#i guess the key for learning how to do backgrounds is not drawing for over four months cause idek how i did that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grailfinders · 3 years ago

Text

Fate and Phantasms #14P: Atalante

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re makin kitty. I mean Atalante. Obviously. She’s a Flurry Ranger to rain down a silly number of arrows on her enemies, but we also hop into Monk to make her all speedylike and Cleric for flavor. I was going to use Cleric to get a big AoE effect for her NP, but it turns out ranger is actually kind of good in PF2E so it’s just kind of here now.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Euryale- it’s like Oxyale, but for… um, nevermind.

Ancestry and Background

Atalante was a human, but then she got turned into a lion, so now that she’s a servant she’s a Beastkin Human. This gives you a boost in Dexterity and Wisdom, and you can Change Shape as an action to swap between your hybrid and human shape. This also gives you a bite attack that can do a little piercing damage, plus an expanded ancestry feat list.

This gives you feats like Animal Senses, so now you smell good. I mean, now you can smell things good. Shut up.

At level 5 we’re popping back into Animal Senses for some Low-Light Vision. Not quite catty yet, but it’s getting there.

Finally, at level 9 we pick up our last edition of Animal Senses for some Darkvision. ..Yeah, the ancestral feats for this build aren’t super out there.

At level 13 you can enter your hybrid form as soon as you roll initiative thanks to your Quick Shape. By this point you do just about everything quick!

Finally finally, at level 17 we can get Animal Swiftness, adding 5 feet to your movement speed and giving you a climbing speed too. If you weren’t able to climb you’d get an extra 10 feet instead, but I guess that’s for your alter.

Atalante is technically a noble but she got kicked out, so instead she’s a Hunter now. That gives you another boost in Dexterity and Wisdom, you get trained in Survival, and you learn how to Survey Wildlife, so you can spend 10 minutes checking out an area, using a survival check to recall knowledge about animals nearby.

Class Levels

1. Atalante is a hunter, which is probably why she’s a Ranger. Her key ability is Dexterity, which gives her another +2 to that stat and bases any class abilities that require saves off of that stat. The archer is going to be very dexterous, no surprise there. She’s also trained in Nature, Religion instead of survival since you have that already, Will saves, your Class DC most Attacks, and Unarmored, Light, and Medium armor. You also get trained in Acrobatics, Athletics, Stealth, Intimidation, and Medicine. You also get expertise in a few things, namely Perception and Fortitude and Reflex saves. You see good, you fast. Like a cat or something.

You get yet another Ability Boost right off the bat, giving you a boost in Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, and Wisdom. This is your only intelligence boost, which is why I didn’t bring up the whole “learning skills as you get brainier” thing, since you get all your training level one.

Speaking of training, you’re trained on how to Hunt Prey pretty good, spending one action to single in on a target you can see, hear, or are tracking, giving you a +2 bonus to seek and track them. You can also make ranged attacks in your second range increment without a penalty, so you can effectively hit up to 200 feet away for free.

To make killing that prey easier, you can unleash a Flurry upon them, reducing your multiple attack penalty against them.

Speaking of multiple attacks, you can make a Hunted Shot once per round against your hunted prey, combining damage to pierce through resistances. Or launch them into the sky for style points, either or.

2. At second level you’re fast enough to perform a Quick Draw, drawing your weapon and attacking with it with the same action.

You’re also fast enough to perform a Cat Fall, reducing your falling height based on your acrobatics training. Right now, you treat falls as 25’ shorter-that increases as you train, up to complete negation of damage at Legendary.

Finally, since we aren’t buff enough to monk, we’ll grab the Cleric Dedication instead. This lets you cast and prepare two divine cantrips, and trains you in divine spells which use wisdom. Finally, you have to pick a deity to worship, and you become bound by their anathema. While there isn’t a perfect representation of Artemis in PF2E (yet), we get pretty damn close by worshipping Fandarra, the Mammoth Lord Goddess of the life cycle. She allows neutral evil worshippers like Atalante, and her domains include death, family, knowledge, and nature, most of which fit Atalante to a T! Her anathema forbids you from breaking the cycle of life by making undead or the like, spoiling the earth, and killing juveniles. I’m sure none of those will come back to bite you in the ass later.

You would get trained in Nature and Religion as a part of this multiclassing, but we’re already trained in both so we’ll grab Arcana and Diplomacy instead.

3. I don’t think we’re fast enough yet, let’s make you Fleet. That’s another 5’ of movement! You also have an Iron Will, making you an expert in will saves, and we’ll bump up your Survival too for more rangering.

4. Now I wouldn’t call Atalante a sniper, but I still think picking up Far Shot to double your bow’s range increments is a good move- tabletop games tend to undersell archers’ range just to keep everyone on the table. Now you can hit most creatures up to 200’ away, or your prey up to 400’, with no penalty.

You also become a Wilderness Spotter, improving your alertness in the woods for better hunting. Now you can always use Survival rather than perception to roll initiative. You can also use survival now to detect and disarm traps. To be fair your Perception’s already great, but we’re never getting into thievery this build, so there’s still a reason for it.

We also get some Basic Dogma from your cleric class, making you a Family Domain Initiate. I’d’ve loved to go nature, but I think the focus spell Soothing Words is more in character, letting you spend an action to add bonuses to an ally on will saves and emotional effects, and it also can counteract an existing emotion effect. You like keeping the kiddos calm, and now you can. Once per long rest, or after 10 minutes of focusing.

5. At fifth level we get buff enough to multiclass again thanks to your Ability Boost bumping up your Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom. You gain Ranger Weapon Expertise, increasing your weapon proficiency to expert and giving you critical weapon specializations while hunting prey.

We’ll also bump up your Athletics for better races, and your Trackless Step lets you automatically cover tracks without losing speed.

6. At sixth level you get just a tiny bit faster by firing a Skirmish Strike instead of a regular attack, letting you step and strike with the same action. This is also a flourish though, so that means you can’t do this and your Hunted Shot in the same turn. Choose carefully!

For more explosive movement, your Powerful Leap increases your jump distances by 5’ when jumping horizontally, and they increase to 5’ when jumping straight up.

Finally, for our last feature from Cleric for a while you can Emblazon Armament over the course of 10 minutes, sanctifying a shield or weapon for a year, turning it into a divine focus, and also adding +1 damage to all attacks. This works best with firing off as many attacks as possible, and that’s kind of your whole deal, so it’s a good pick.

7. Seventh level monks get Evasion in D&D, but you do too. Here, it increases your reflex training, and your successes are always critical.

You also become an Experienced Tracker, so you can track while moving at full speed, though you take a small penalty to your check to do so. Once you become a master, you can ignore the penalty, and when you become legendary, you don’t have to re-roll every hour.

You also become an expert in Acrobatics and a master in Perception, plus your Weapon Specialization means you deal even more damage with weapons you’re skilled with. Like, say, a bow? Or really any sort of non-advanced weapon, though we like bows the best.

8. At level eight you become a Monk! Now you have a d6 for your fists, and you can make lethal unarmed attacks with no penalty. you’re also trained in occultism since w’ere running out of skills to give you.

Speaking of unarmed attacks, you also pick up the Animal Feature warden spell, which uses (and expands) the same focus pool as your clerical focus spell. You spend an action to gain an animal body part. You can get low-light vision (which you have), claws for stronger unarmed attacks (the reason we’re here), powerful jaws which are okay I guess, owl eyes for darkvision (for the one level we don’t have darkvision naturally), or wings/ a fish tail for a flying or swimming speed, respectively. We’re just here for the claws, but if you want to grab something else I won’t tell on you.

If you’d rather climb trees the hard way, Rapid Mantel might help you out, letting you pull yourself up for free whenever you grab an edge. You can also use your athletics to grab one instead of your reflex save, though you’re pretty good with those.

9. at level nine you gain nature’s edge over your enemies, making them flat-footed when they’re in difficult terrain or a snare. team up with robin hood; it’ll be fun, we haven’t built any lancers yet. you also get good at stuff, thanks to your ranger expertise and another boost in acrobatics skill, giving you mastery.

10. tenth level rangers get another ability boost in four skills like dexterity, constitution, wisdom, and charisma. we have the multiclassing minimum, we’ll never need strength again.

you also become a hazard finder, giving you a +1 bonus to find traps and hazards, plus a +1 bonus to your ac and saves against their effects. you can even find traps you’re not searching for! you can’t win a race if you keep slipping on bananas. learned that one the hard way from the mean streets of mario kart.

you can kip up as a free action to stand up from prone without triggering reactions. regular catfolk get to land on their feet anyways, but this is the next best thing. plus they don’t get to star in monk movies, so really- sorry, i meant to say they don’t get monk moves, so they don’t get a +10 bonus to their movement speed. ya go fast, it’s kind of your thing.

11. an eleventh level ranger can speed up their hunting with an expeditious search, letting you search an area in half as much time, or four times if you’ve got legendary perception. (you will)

you also become the juggernaut, queen, giving you mastery of fortitude saves and they’re always crits if they succeed.

your medium armor expertise does exactly what that sounds like, though to all armors you had training in before. you’re also a master of survival, and your wild stride lets you ignore difficult terrain, even reducing the effects of greater difficult terrain.

12. at twelfth level you can enter a Monastic Archer Stance as an action. while in this stance, you can only make attacks with bows, but your arrows will be able to use any monk attack features if they’re within half your bow’s first range increment, so 100’. This is one of your slow burn features, it’ll get better later.

for even more speed, you can use terrain transposition to literally teleport yourself 90 feet with two actions and a point of focus (and your focus pool is at its maximum of 3 points now btw). why roll a check when you can just hop around for free?

your assurance in survival makes you an even more formidable tracker, letting you ignore all penalties and bonuses and instead take a roll of 10+ your training modifier, so you never have to fear a natural one again!

13. at thirteenth level you become a master of Athletics, and your Weapon Mastery makes your bow and punches a bit more accurate.

14. more interestingly, at level 14 you can use the focus spells Hunter’s Vision and Ki Rush from your ranger and monk levels respectively. the former makes it so your hunted prey is always visible to you as long as they aren’t straight-up behind a wall somewhere. the latter lets you spend one action to move two strides and/or steps, while also making you concealed until the start of your next turn. now not only are you stupid fast, you can stride six times in a single turn if you really, really want to.

also, you have some Environmental Grace, a protective barrier from your gods against extreme environments. if you end up spending an hour in severe cold or heat, you become protected from that environment until you leave it. I know Alter’s the one that ends up in the lostbelt, but that’s just you in a different outfit so I’m counting it.

15. level 15 is more of a self-care level, but it’s a good one. you get an Ability Boost in Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom, and you become an Incredible Scout, giving your allies a +2 bonus to initiative while you’re scouting. You also get Greater Weapon Specialization and Improved Evasion, boosting stuff we already have. That’s double the extra damage, and you ignore critical failure on reflex saves, instead taking half damage on regular failures. You’re also legendary in reflex saves, as well as perception. and Acrobatics too, why not.

16. at level 16 you can use Ephemeral Tracking, giving you yet another focus spell to track down creatures even through the air or water. you’re sensing their… mana… signature? I guess? it’s FGO, if you want to do it, you can probably make up a reason for it. the DC is always 30, and it’s possible to cover your air tracks, but you’d have to know it’s possible first.

You can also Water Sprint to move across water without getting wet. Ironically, this is actually a feature your giant move speed makes worse, since you have to move half your speed on dry ground first, so you need more runup space. once you’re legendary at athletics you can use your full movement over the water.

finally, you can use a Monk’s Flurry to attack twice in the same action with a flurry of blows, and this does work with your bow in its stance. you might have noticed already, but that’s awfully similar to your Hunted Shot attack from level 1, but it takes more time to set up and also prevents you from making unarmed attacks. and you’re right! it’s still bad. but it gets better a little later, you just have to trust me on this one.

17. now it’s time for some fun. at seventeenth level you become a Masterful Hunter, further increasing your flurry bonus for multiple attacks, increasing your no-penalty shooting to 600’ against your hunted prey, and giving you a +4 bonus to seek and track them. also your ranger class dc is set to master now, just in case you didn’t have enough cool toys.

while we’re here, might as well make you legendary at Survival, right?

18. at level 18 you finally get your NP, the Impossible Volley. Now you can launch an attack at every enemy in a 10’ radius area in one go by spending three actions, really maximizing the bonus damage from your bow and weapon specialization.

you also become a Legendary Survivalist, letting you survival indefinitely without food or water, and survive extreme temperatures without taking damage. technically all servants should be able to do this, but not everyone’s going to be a great hunter first.

finally, we can make flurry of blows actually a good thing with Pinning Fire. if you use both flurry of blows attacks to hit a single target, you can pin them to a nearby surface, forcing a reflex save against you or they become immobilized until they pass an athletics check to break loose. It won’t hold most servants long, but that should be just long enough for Lancer to show up and skewer that idiot berserker.

19. at nineteenth level you can use a cloud jump to triple your long jump distance, and you can now use the long jump calculation for your high jumps as well! So with your monk training and powerful leaps, you can make a 30’ long jump with a DC 0 athletics check. If your jump would move further than your speed, you can spend additional actions to complete your jump.

your armor becomes a second skin, making you a master in ranger armors, and if you’re wearing those armors you can sleep in your armor now.

you become fast enough to find swift prey, letting you hunt prey as a free action at the start of your turn. you’re also legendary in Athletics now.

20. last level, let’s end it on a high note! you get one more ability boost in strength, dexterity, constitution, and charisma, and you can now track your pretty To the Ends of the Earth. when you hunt a prey within 100’ of you, you can follow that creature’s exact movements to know its location no matter where it goes. sadly this doesn’t work through teleportation or planar travel, but I doubt a giant pig will be able to do any of that.

you can Wall Jump as well, letting you jump again mid-jump if your previous jump ends next to a wall. since you’re legendary in athletics, you can even do this several times in one turn!

Finally, we’re going to pick up one last feature from cleric, Premonition of Avoidance, which uses your reaction to give you a +2 bonus on any saving throw. even more evasion baby!

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You are the ultimate tracker. You don’t need food, or water, you can’t be stopped by walls or distance, and even without your funky magic tracking you’ve got legendary proficiency in survival and assurance. if you hunt something, you will find it.

On a semi-related note, you’re incredibly mobile, with 45’ of movement, a climb speed, frankly silly jumping power, the ability to run on water, and straight up teleportation, it’s really hard to escape you, or for melee fighters to get within range. that’s not even touching the ki rush shenanigans!

you have extra attacks pretty much since level 1. more attacks means more consistent damage, as well as having extra effects thanks to your Hunting Shot piercing through thick hide and your flurry of blows forcing an enemy to waste an action snapping arrows. That also makes you really good at taking down crowds of smaller enemies, too!

Cons:

You still have issues dealing with melee fighting, and while you’d think being a monk would help there, it actually makes you worse since you can’t use monk arrow stuff and punch at the same time. If someone can keep up with you, it’ll be a hassle.

You also don’t have burst damage, so trying to take down a big target might take a while. Sure, if you’re hitting something that can’t hit back you’ll win eventually, but it’s not gonna be a fun time.

You have way too many focus spells. You’ve got cleric stuff, ranger stuff, and monk stuff, all working off the same three focus points. This means you can’t run too fast without weakening your tracking ability, and vice-versa. Just make sure you don’t go all-out, that’s your berserker’s job.

#fgo #Fate Grand Order #Pathfinder 2nd edition #PF2E #Atalante #Ranger #Monk #Cleric

29 notes · View notes

shokobuns · 5 years ago

Text

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐨?”

your irritating step brother likes to come in your room during your zoom classes.

PAIRING: stepbro!gojo satoru x f!reader

GENRE(S): smut, quarantine!au (au? LMAO), college!au, taboo

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNING(S): darkish, smut, drug use (weed), high sex, stepcest, taboo, slight dubcon, slight manipulation, exhibitionism (if you squint), sensory deprivation (blindfold), degradation, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), squirting, dacryphilia (if you squint)

(A/N): this rly do be my first time using proper capitalization huh, anyways all characters, SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD THE READ MORE I FIXED IT

More.

One thing you easily learned about Satoru was the fact he wasn’t easy to satisfy. He’s demanding, cocky, all the while being nonchalant. He rarely exerts effort, but gets the desired results. He’s arrogant, but it’s nearly impossible to point out a flaw to counter it at all.

It makes your head hurt. It makes your teeth clench.

When you make eye contact, you make sure to stare back daggers. When you’re forced to talk to him, your voice stays monotone and expressionless. When you’re in a room with him for more than five minutes, your earbuds are already out, drowning out the sound of his voice. But it’s all difficult when you’re under the same roof.

Knock. Knock.

You roll your eyes at the sound of your step brother knocking your door, wondering what the hell he wants now. At this point, he’s probably just trying to annoy you, poke at your sides until he gets attention, any kind of attention, all just to satisfy his boredom.

Your calm demeanor and sharp tongue has always contrasted with Satoru’s teasing attitude. He’s always seemingly trying to provoke you, trying to pry apart the walls you’ve barricaded yourself in. His personality never rubbed you in the right way from the day your dad surprised you with a dinner with your new brother and your new mom. It didn’t matter anyways, you thought. You’d be going off to university soon enough.

The pandemic ran over all of your plans like a truck.

Better yet, your parents still had work without the option of staying home, leaving you and Satoru home alone for a little over eight hours a day. When he wasn’t in class or tutoring his juniors, he was knocking at your door, most likely red-eyed, though you can’t see it, and relaxed. Despite his persistence, you rarely let him in no matter how insistent he is in “getting to know his new lil sister.”

“Go away, Satoru.”

Behind the door, he pouts while you scribble down notes from the screenshared presentation. He comes in anyways, reeking of marijuana and cologne, half of his shirt buttons undone. You steal a small glance before once again glueing your eyes to your computer screen. The voice of your professor bores you, but you’re hyper aware of Satoru’s presence as he makes himself comfortable on your bed. “Get the fuck off! You stink!” You yell, turning off your camera before throwing a pencil right at him.

He catches it mid air with ease, relaxing his head on your pillows while fiddling with one of your many Sanrio plushies. “Can I have this?” he asks, holding one up as you contemplate its value in your head.

“If it gets you out of my room, then sure.” you reply in a monotone voice, turning back to your notes.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles, rolling over to lay on his side with the plushie in his arms, “Is that organic chem?”

“Yeah, can you go now?”

“I’ll be quiet, princess. Don’t worry about me, just wanna know what my lil sis is up to.” He waits for a response, but is only rewarded with a huff.

It stays like that for the next ten minutes, him watching your professor’s lecture, you scrambling to write all of the information on the slides as he continues the fast paced lesson. You’re hyper focused on your class, putting in your effort to absorb the entirety of the content. In your mind, the only people in your room are your and your computer. “You know, you don’t have to understand everything all at once,” a voice speaks up from behind you, causing you to purse your lips in annoyance, “It’s easier to learn when you’re actually paying attention to the lecture instead of focusing on trying to get everything down.

“We get it, Satoru. You have straight A’s and you’re naturally good at everything.”

“Hey, you’re getting advice from an aspiring teacher. Don’t need to use that tone with me, Princess.” He mumbles, rolling to his back on the bed, “Just tryna help you out in my free time.”

“I don’t need your help.”

He stays silent while you go back to drawing some of your basic compounds. Ethanol, methanol, propane, all of it. Your scribbles are messy and they progressively fill out the page in your notebook. You hear a tsk behind you, rolling your eyes as you prepare for another criticism from Satoru. Sure, he was probably right, but you refuse to feed into his ego. “Does he not link the slides to you guys or something?” he asks, this time with a friendlier tone.

“He does.” you reply, swiveling your chair until you’re facing him. He’s laying on his side again, his shirt spilling off his shoulder as your breath hitches at the sight. The blindfold is snug against his face, his hair pushed up. You’re sure that the stink of marijuana has rubbed onto your sheets and you make a mental note to wash them after class. “Then get high with me.”

“I’m in the middle of class, dumbass.”

“But you can always look at the slides later.” he suggests, “Plus, you’ve looked super stressed lately. Wonder why.”

Because of you, you want to say, but you stop yourself, opting to stay silent while pondering the offer. “Sure.”

He excitedly walks back to his room, returning to your bed seconds later with a joint between his fingertips. “This your first time?”

“Nah.”

“Ooooo,” he hums like a child, “That’s what you’re up to when we’re not around, huh?” he teases and you shake your head with a smile forming on your face.

“I guess.”

He shrugs, holding the joint up to your lips and lighting up the tip. You suck in the smoke into your lungs, holding it in, before exhaling out the screen door of your window. He takes a hit, opening his mouth and inhaling through his nose then passing it back to you. Your professor’s lecture fades into background noise as you fixate on Satoru, finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for weeks. He makes a mental note to offer you weed the next time he’s overcome by boredom.

The high hits you almost immediately. You’ve never had anything this strong and it’s liberating. You feel weightless, but your eyelids feel heavy. Your face is awfully warm and lifted and your vision gets more and more blurry by the second. The intoxication is pleasant, the present worries in your head being cut off as you focus on what’s right in front of you.

Satoru.

Satoru, your dear, irritating step brother who was kind enough to share the weed he stashes in his drawer. It’s getting harder and harder to hate him and you can’t reason why you felt so many negative emotions that you projected onto him at all. Sure, your room reeks and it’s all because of him, but the sight of him laying on your bed in a shirt that barely covers up his upper body makes your underwear feel uncomfortable. You don't know where it’s coming from, but shutting it out was easy when you’re sober. Key word: sober.

You stand from your desk, making your way to your bed and laying next to him. Both of you face each other, easily getting comfortable, warmth radiating off his body. It feels oddly intimate and your thighs press together in order to suppress the lustful feeling that takes over your body. Your arm comes around to the back of his head, tugging on the fabric that covers his eyes. “Can I take it off?”

“Sure.”

He lifts his head, allowing you to pull on the knot until it becomes undone. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe a scar or something, but you’re in awe of the blue orbs that make you feel like you were staring into infinity. They’re bloodshot and half lidded and it’s when one fact you really didn’t want to accept hits you.

Satoru Gojo is one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

And he’s your step brother.

Uneasiness stirs in your lower tummy and you curse at whatever higher power that decided to give you this type of luck, but a hand on your hip trails to your back, pulling your closer and closer until your faces are at a dangerous distance. You can feel your cheeks becoming alarmingly hot and you hate that you can’t blame it on the weed. His hand comes up to your cheeks, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “Thought you wanted me to go away?”

“Changed my mind.” you whisper, eyes slowly closing, lips parting open as you wait for him to lean in and close the gap.

“Hmm? What’s this?” he sneers, causing your eyes to shoot open and your body to jolt up from your bed. The hazy feeling on your head still remains, making it hard to stand completely straight. “Get out.” you sternly demand, leaning back on your desk chair and pointing towards your door.

“Why should I? I don’t think you really want me to leave, babe.” He props his head on his hand, leaning his elbow onto your mattress.

“It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong? We’re just two people hanging out on a bed. Unless you were trying to do something else, dirty girl.”

“I- I wasn’t! You’re my step brother!”

“Step brother.” He repeats, justifying your actions.

You’re shaking, guilt occupying your mind keeping you distracted. It’s the perfect time for Satoru to get comfortable in the space between your legs, pulling down your loose shorts and taking you by surprise. Before you have a chance to protest, his nose brushes against your sensitive core, making you let out a squeak. “W-We can’t do this!”

“Didn’t you want this?” he questions, looking up at you with wide eyes, “Wanted me to take care of this pretty little pussy, right?”

You know you should be refusing. You know you should be pushing him out your door. But it’s so hard when his pupils are dilated and the grip on the sides of your thighs feels so right. At this point, you’re not thinking, only nodding along to whatever he’s saying, anticipating his next actions.

“So wet.” He mumbles, pulling down the flimsy fabric and throwing it off somewhere in the room. He licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, sucking softly on the pearl while holding you down as the pleasure causes you to jolt upwards. He sucks and slurps like it’s his last meal, making your empty walls pulsate and little whines along with to leave your lips. Looking down, your eyes meet his, the lower half of his face immersed in your cunt.

The wet muscle fucks into you, curling and pressing against your walls, while his thumb rubs against your little clit. He hits all the right spots that make you squirm, pushing your legs wide open to see more of your ruined pussy. The wetness collects on his mouth, his chin, and his cheeks, filling him with a sick sense of satisfaction. “Such a whore, aren’t ya?” he pulls away to comment, but your fingers thread through his hair, pushing his head back where you need him most.

The action is assertive, something he usually hates dealing with. Though this time, he’s filled with a sick sense of pride at the fact that he was able to turn you, someone who seemed to hate him with a burning passion, into a moaning mess with just his mouth. He hums satisfactorily, sending vibrations into your sensitive core that make your thighs shaky.

You’re already cumming in an embarrassingly short time, gushing all over his face while he laps up all the juices you have to offer.

Before you can process anything else, his lips capture yours, lifting your body and dropping you onto your bed. You look at him with half lidded eyes, still sensitive from your last orgasm, while he pulls off his own clothes. His length rests on the inside of your thigh and he’s huge, so huge that it feels heavy against your skin and it scares you. “Satoru, I don’t think I can take you-”

“Shhh, princess,” he reassures you, “You started this. You have to take it.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, taking the fabric of his blindfold and covering your eyes, tying a tight knot on the back of your head. This isn’t right, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it because Satoru treats you so well. He keeps you company, gives you some of his weed, eats your pussy without you having to ask him.

The only thing you can see is black and you whine. You so badly want to see Satoru’s pretty face, his chiseled body, his thick cock, but your thoughts are interrupted by the fat tip prodding at your tiny hole. “Too big..” your voice trails off as your mind is lifted, only the feeling of him splitting you in half remaining. You’ve never felt so full and it feels so dirty, yet your slick says otherwise, betraying any rational part that still resides in your body.

“I got you, Princess, don’t worry.” He slurs, drunk on the sensation of your snug walls. The stretch strings, whimpers spilling from your lips, but his cock hits every spot like no other. By the time he’s fully inside of you, it feels like he’s actually in your guts and it’s all intensified by the isolated feeling, not being able to see him at all. Every bite on your shoulder, every kiss on your open mouth, every delicious drag on your gummy walls is amplified.

You’re already cumming around him, a ring of cream forming on his cock as he gazes down at your bare body, wrapping his lips around a sensitive nipple. You squeal, your breath hitching at the same time you clamp down around his throbbing length. “Already? Such a sensitive little princess, aren’t you?” He mutters in your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders, piercing the pale skin. Tears spill from your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face.

His teeth sink into your shoulder and you want to tell him to stop, but the words don’t quite leave your lips. Only babbling noises accompanied by the wet sounds of your cunt and skin slapping against skin. He’s still pounding into your cervix at a relentless pace, in awe of how your slick drips down his balls and onto the white sheets.

Every time he hits that sweet spot, there’s an odd feeling that forms, like you’re about to make a mess. And when your next orgasm washes over you in intense waves of euphoria, a clear liquid spurts from your cunny, coating his lower stomach and your inner thighs. “Who knew my little princess was such a messy girl?” he taunts, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“S-shut up-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he leans in close, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I’ll clean it all up.”

His smooth voice causes you to squeeze around him, almost like you don’t want him to ever leave your cunt, and it gets harder and harder for him to move. “Fuck, baby you’re so tight, need you to loosen up,” he mumbles, his own orgasm finally approaching, your little cunny milking him for all he’s worth.

He’s rambling little praises, hot pleasure elevated by the high, his hips stuttering and his cock stuffing you to the brim with his warm seed. You both lay there, still intertwined and his body resting on top of yours.

“Ms. (L/N)! Did you have any questions about my lesson today?”

Your face drops in horror, your hand immediately pulling off the blindfold, as you push Satoru away from you and press the leave button on Zoom. A mix of your juices drop onto the floor and he chuckles, pulling you back to bed. “This isn’t over.”

He pins you back onto the mattress, his cock twitching at the sight of your leaking cunt, pulling your thighs until you’re close and pinning them to your chest. In one swift movement, his entire cock is shoved into your cunt, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass with every thrust, fucking his cum back into your womb.

Gojo Satoru would never be satisfied.

2K notes · View notes

race-week · 4 years ago

Text

So you want to start learning about the technical side of F1?

Where do you start?

Well here I guess.

This has been something in the works for some time; I’ve had a few messages about people asking for recommendations and thought that I would compile everything into one document. I’ve tried to provide links where I can as well.

‘Free’ Resources

- The first thing I’d recommend is the technical and sporting regulations but I wouldn’t recommend you trying to read them end to end as they’d be very dull but whenever you see one of them referenced in a stewards document look it up and try to get an understanding of the background. You’ll soon have a pretty solid understanding of all the main infringements.

- Free Practice Sessions; I know they aren’t technically free but…

Genuinely if you can find a stream for a FP session there is usually quite good information about the track characteristics as well as the tyre strategies, who usually goes well here, etc (depending on your commentators)

- Youtube; for technical information I would recommend ChainBear and for motorsport history CYMotorsport both are absolutely incredible and really accessible for new viewers. Also on Sky Sports F1’s YouTube they often post the Sky Pad clips and I would recommend watching these if you don’t get them in your feed as they can bring a really good insight about the different lines that drivers take into a corner amongst other things.

- Podcasts; F1Nation - they usually do really great race previews and race reviews which let you know what to look out for, not super technical but good background knowledge. Also Autosport have a very good podcast called “F1 and More” where they do a similar thing but also have practice and qualifying reviews.

- F1 Website; honestly it sounds simple but take a look at some of the articles on the F1 website if you have time, especially the Tech Tuesday ones, as well as their Tech Talk series of videos. They actually have a lot of really interesting analysis videos and articles on there. They also usually go through the strategy options before a race. There is also a glossary of all the key F1 terms here. Also keep an eye out for whenever Ross Brawn does an article.

F1TV; yes another one that isn’t technically free but I’m sure you can find these elsewhere. Jolyon Palmers analysis, honestly these are so great post race where he looks back over the key moments and is able to give both a drivers insight as well as a more technical insight. I especially love it when he shows the telemetry data. There is also more in-depth Tech-Talk videos on here and they are really interesting.

- Reddit; I know F1 Reddit can sometimes be quite gatekeepy but its actually getting better; there’s the main r/Formula1 page and there’s also r/F1technical which is really interesting and also has a lot of technical discussions but they aren’t overly complex and people there are a lot more willing to explain things. This is where I often get a lot of news about upgrades and stuff from as I rarely use Twitter.

Books

This is where I actually started and a lot of the books I read were quite old as I either bought them second hand or borrowed them from my dad, but here we go

- Adrian Newey “How to Build a Car” this is one of my favourites as it’s part autobiography, part technical book and it goes through his years working for different teams and the regulation changes that took place. If you don’t know Adrian Newey is Red Bull’s chief aerodynamicist and helped design all of their cars for many years.

- Steve Matchett “The Mechanics Tale” less technical but this tells the story of an F1 mechanic through the years, and gives more background into the world of F1 as a whole.

- David Tremayne “The Science of Formula 1 Design” and “The Science of Speed” his books on F1 are really incredible and informative but not in a stuffy way; they are easy to pick up and read.

- Giorgio Piola “Formula 1 Technical Analysis” there are so many of these books, they used to come out annually but it’s the illustrations in these books that make them so special. Real photos are never used and instead there’s incredibly realistic drawings of all the cars as well as that years regulation changes. I’ve got the year that all the cars had the proboscis noses (the dick nosed cars) and yet he’s made them look beautiful and the information is so helpful if you are interested in a particular year. He actually does a lot of work with motorsport now, on technical analysis still creating beautiful illustrations

- Ross Brawn “Total Competition” this is a real interesting look into F1 strategy and creating a championship winning team but also looks into the business side of F1 as well.

- Derek Seward “Race Car Design” a little more like a textbook, I’ve read extracts of it and it has been really interesting. This one is more engineering heavy though.

- Haynes Manual “Red Bull Racing F1 Car” this takes an in-depth look at the Red Bull RB6, it’s so interesting but it’s not really dumbed down but it’s still a relatively simple read. I think this is one of the first ones I acquired and it’s still one of my favourites.

#f1 #f1 resource

306 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest.

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically.

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat, “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N’s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

#the witcher x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill

589 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

2K notes · View notes

aro-comics · 4 years ago

Text

Aro Culture (Part 4)

Part 4 - so this was originally going to be a shorter update but I realized I couldn’t fit what I needed to say into three panels haha 😅 I honestly have a lot of complicated feelings about everything I’ve talked about here haha. To clarify on the last panel - I want all of these things explicitly WITHOUT the romance. I feel the need to clarify b/c a lot of people may want similar things, but it’s just assumed that unless you explicitly state you don’t want to fall in love people just assume that is *of course* a part of your plans 🙄 I guess that’s just amatonormativity for you. I once was like “yeah I just ... can’t see myself getting married” when we were talking about our future plans and a girl literally told me “OMG!!! No that’s so sad!! Why??” 🙃 so yeah, that’s been my experience with not wanting romance. What about you guys? What makes you happy???

Also another Note: My friend had been helping me type some of these descriptions up until now (she’s an angel, shoutout to you RK <3), and I took over from around here on out, hence the permanent change in describing each image from panel to slide 🙃 Small detail, but just thought I’d clarify in case it seems like things are different!

[Image Descriptions:

Slide 1: Celia standing in front of the submission bowl again, holding another piece of paper. She says “In terms of general experiences aros seem to have, I think most of us can relate to the following …”

Slide 2: Title slide. Text reads: “#2: Never thinking that you "need" a partner in life to be happy”

Slide 3:

“I’ve always loved writing stories - ”

Drawing of young celia drawing on the floor (an arrow points at her, which reads “me, a lot younger”). The child-like drawing appears to be two stick figures on hill, one of them raising a sword. A speech bubble coming from her says “... and they became adventurer best friends!”

Slide 4:

“ - which as a kid, I would use to project what I wanted in life. Dinosaurs and cool swords aside, my key themes were friendship and devoting life to exploring and learning about the world.”

Drawing of young Celia kneeling over a pile of papers which she had drawn more on. A speech bubble: “The base’ll be a lighthouse”.

Slide 5:

“I wanted to be like my characters.”

Celia from the back, staring at a bunch of coloured pictures she has posted on the wall. Speech bubble: “ … it’d be so nice to do stuff like this when I grow up!”.

Slide 6: A pure text slide set against a green background with stars and wavy lines. The text says: “I know, a lot of people might say ‘yeah, every kid’s like that. You don’t think about romance when you’re young.’”

Slide 7: Another pure text slide like the one before. Text says: “But lots of kids also think about the kind of person they want to marry, and imagine their wedding. The thought of being married has always made me feel confused. It was never a part of the life I imagined for myself. And that never changed.”

Slide 8:

Celia sitting at a table with her friend, talking in university. Her friend says: “So, where do you see yourself as a ‘real adult’ - like what do you want?”

Slide 9:

Celia responds: “I guess … to work everywhere. Explore, learn how to really design for sustainability … maybe a kid one day.”’ ]

#RegularComic #AroCulture

71 notes · View notes

ithebookhoarder · 4 years ago

Note

Could I get something for valentines day to do with the Shelby gang? I really don't mind what or who. I just feel like I need a little love for the day...

Valentines Day Head-Canons for the Shelby Family

A/N: Of course you can, anon! Hope you have a great day, whether you’re celebrating or not. It’s just a day, really, so I hope this cheers you up ;) Sending so much love x

Masterlist:

Arthur:

This man would be nervous as hell that he’d mess up valentines day with you. He’s not exactly known for being the romantic of the family, nor does he have the sophistication of his younger siblings. In fact, he’s sometimes surprised you’re even with him at all.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, though. Oh no, this man is going all out for the day and nothing is too much for you. He’ll have asked everyone, and I mean everyone, for advice about what to do to make the day special.

He’s not a many of many words so he lets his actions do the talking for him, giving you a massive bouquet of flowers as he comes to collect you for the evening.

“Arthur, they’re beautiful. You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for me. I mean, you even got orchids - my favourites. How did you know?”

“I remember you told me before, eh? When we were at that place down in London. The one with the fancy window displays.”

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

But that’s Arthur. He’s utterly head over heels for you, which is probably why he turns bright red as you kiss him on the doorstep before hurrying back inside to put them in some water.

He’d also make sure to open every door for you the entire night, refusing to let you even lift so much as a finger.

In fact, he even pulls your chair out for you in the restaurant he’s taking you to, glaring at the waiter who was going to do it, in a clear sign to back away if he wants to escape with his life.

“Arthur. I saw that. Behave.”

“I’m on my best behaviour, love. Promise.”

“Oh really? What a shame, as I had kind of hoped you wouldn’t be, considering that I’m wearing your present underneath this dress.”

Arthur almost combusts there and then.

Screw dinner - he wants to devour you and only you. Maybe that’s why he practically drags you out of the door at the end of the night, making you laugh as you hurry after him, the two of you fumbling with each other like horny teenagers.

Needless to say, you spend the rest of the night wrapped in a tangle of limbs, lost in an haze of pleasure as you gift one another with your bodies.

John:

Now, considering his kids and the fact they are more than a handful, he knows just how important time spent with just the two of you is. That would be his first and biggest gift, getting one of the family to agree to watch the hell spawn long enough for you two to spend some time alone together.

It’s just you and him for 24 hours of uninterrupted bliss, with no crying children or screaming babies to think about.

True, it would be weird at first to have the house so quiet, but that’s exactly what you need for you and John to just talk to one another about anything and everything you’ve missed over the past few weeks. After all, he’d probably have been so busy with work he feels like he’s hardly seen you recently.

He’s also remarkably in-tune with you and knows exactly how to spoil you rotten.

“You do so much for me and the kids, it’s the least I can do, right? You deserve the world, but I guess I’ll have to do, eh?”

Who knew John Shelby was such a softie?

He’d have the day mapped out down to the finest detail: Breakfast in bed? check. A hot bath with wine and candles? Check. That new dress you had your eye on when you last went into town? Check. Making love for hours on every surface of the house? Triple check.

He knows how lucky he is to have you and would spend all day making sure you knew.

“At this rate, we’ll be having another little one to be bribe Polly to watch next year.”

“John Shelby! I swear to god I am not having another baby-“

“So you want me to put my clothes back on and not fuck you again?”

You wisely say nothing and kiss him instead.

“As I thought.”

Tommy:

Considering how busy he normally is, the only gift you could ever want from him was that of time. Time away from the stresses of the company or his family and their never ending messes.

It’s why you’re eager to subtly remind him about the date every chance you get in the weeks preceding it.

Little do you know, he’s perfectly aware of the day. In fact, he has plans of his own cooked up for the both of you… you just didn’t need to know that yet.

It makes the surprise all the more satisfying as he wakes you early the morning of, peppering you with kisses and encouraging you to get dressed.

“I thought people usually tried to get people undressed on Valentines day?”

“Patience, love. It’s worth it, I promise.”

You laugh and trust him, unable to deny him anything when he looks genuinely happy for once. That in itself is a gift, as is the chance to spend the day riding with him around the estate you called home.

Tommy is happiest on horse back, and you grin as you eye him clambering on his horse out front.

You’re quick to follow, not surprised to see he’d had your horse readied too. He really had thought this out, down to the route you take.

“This way, there are no phone calls or fucking distractions,” he explains, relieved at the utter delight in your eyes. “Not unless one of the staff want to grab a horse and come find us. Good luck to them.”

“They’d need it, especially if they’re stupid enough to risk me shooting them for disturbing us. They’d be idiots.”

Tommy laughs.

Eventually, he’d stop you both, just on the edge of the woods, revealing the next surprise as he pulls out a blanket and basket (prepared with Frances’s help, of course).

“A picnic, Tommy?”

“I told you it was a surprise.”

It’s the best surprise as you both sit there, drinking and laughing as the sky turns dark.

That’s when he lights a fire for you both, letting you huddle close by the flames, eyes gazing at the stars above you.

You listen to him telling you all about the constellations and the stories he learned as a child. The sound of his voice is heavenly and you could easily listen to him all night.

So much so, you’re quick to wish the night would never end, letting you two stay like this, wrapped peacefully in each other’s arms forever.

Finn:

This literal angel is sweet as hell. Like, you better be prepared for the hand made card he’ll have made you… with Polly’s help, of course. He isn’t a hundred percent sure his spelling would have been right otherwise, but for you he’s willing to make the effort to try and write it for you. After all, you’ve more than likely been trying to help him learn to read and write since you started seeing one another.

“Aunt Pol… is heart spelt with two t’s or one?”

“One, Finn.”

“And does angel have a j in it?”

“No, Finn.”

Everyone else thought it was adorable and proof that he truly does love you. They’ve never seen him work so hard on anything in his life.

Your own card is much simpler, because you wanted to make sure he could read it without too much difficulty. You also may or may not have got a bit carried away with drawing hearts and other sketches to fill it instead of trying to use long and complicated words about how much you loved him.

However, neither one of you seem to care. You’re too happy with the cards you receive to care about your own possible mistakes.

You’re also too busy admiring how much of an effort each of you made with your outfits for your date. Sure, it was just drinks and dancing with some of the other teenagers in Small Heath (basically Isiah and his girl) but you’d both gone full out for the occasion.

“Is that suit new?”

“Maybe… John helped me pick it out. Why? Does it look stupid?”

“No, Finn Shelby. You look incredibly handsome,” you beam, toying with his lapels before linking his hand with yours. “I’ll be the luckiest girl there tonight.”

“And I’ll be the luckiest man.”

Oh yeah, you two are reals saps, just as most young lovers are. You’re all nervous glances, laughs and touches as you two dance the night away.

It would also be the night Finn kisses you for the first night, summoning the courage to do it as he drops you off back at your house, just a little after curfew.

It’s worth the risk and as you kiss him back he swears he’s flying the rest of the way home.

Micheal:

Micheal has had his plans in place for weeks, making sure every little detail would be perfect for the two of you. He’s honestly looking forward to it, enough to welcome his mother’s advice as she throws suggestions and tips at him the week before.

“Women like to feel special, Micheal. What about getting her a necklace? Or some chocolates? Fancy ones from France or something.”

“Mum, thanks, but I’ve got it covered. Promise.”

“Are you sure?”

Micheal laughs and tries not to be offended at her obvious doubt. Then again, he’s not always had a track record of being the most romantic or thoughtful with women. Still, he really cares about you and he’s determined not to mess this up.

It’s why he’s chosen the perfect place for you two to spend the evening together: your place.

He’s determined to spend the time just the two of you, and what better way to impress you than cooking dinner for you?

With the bottle of champagne he brought and your favourite records playing in the background, you’re quickly at ease, grinning as you watch him effortlessly chop, dice and season the dish he’s chosen.

How is peeling a potato so sexy when he does it?

It’s honestly impressive, but also because he’s putting so much effort into it which is a nice surprise. As is the way he dances around the kitchen with you whenever there’s a pause in the recipe or a particularly good song comes on.

You’re surprised at his soft singing voice as he holds you, humming along. It’s rare he allows himself to be seen in such a way, relaxed with no one to judge him for being soft or a little off key. In front of the other Shelbys he’s normally desperate to impress them, trying to be tough and nonchalant.

However, you know deep down he’s still the country boy you fell in love with when he first arrived in the city.

By the time you’ve finished dinner, the candles have almost burned out and you know where the evening is headed as you both start to scurry off to your bedroom.

Ada:

Ada is probably the most relaxed of all the Shelby bunch when it comes to special occasions. This is Ada we’re talking about. She’s also probably the most sane of the bunch, so she knows how to act like a normal person.

She doesn’t need anything big or fancy as a gift or some elaborate plan to make her fall head over heels.

A day in the park, with Karl holding both your hands as you walk to the duck pond, is enough to make her look at you with utter adoration in her eyes. She loves how well you both get on, becoming a little family of you own.

It’s why it’s no surprise you all have dinner together, with Karl helping to serve you as your two favourite people spoil you rotten. You normally eat together most days, even if Karl doesn’t normally wear a suit or call you ‘madame’ every time he passes you something like a mini waiter.

Ada smirks at the sight, informing you it’s all Karl’s idea - as is the card he thrusts upon you.

“I made the card myself!”

“You did? Wow, Karl. Look how amazing it is. I love the glitter on the heart.”

“I knew you would. Mum didn’t think so but I won.”

The look Ada gives you makes you want to laugh until you cry as you clearly sense the frustration she must have suffered in the pursuit of Karl’s artistry. It also explains why you’ve been finding glitter everywhere all week.

“Well, I love it. Thank you - both.”

You press kisses to both of their cheeks, grinning as Ada purred something about giving you her card later once Karl’s in bed. You’re eager to return the favour, impatient to give her your own card and gift.

It’s a framed photo of you all, taken one day when you’d all been at the local fair.

The sight of it is enough to make Ada watery eyed as she gives you yours, watching as you unwrap it and gasp in delight.

The book is the next in a series you’d recently started and fallen in love with. However, you were pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be released yet.

“What can I say? Perks of having a librarian girlfriend with exclusive access to advanced copies we’re supposed to be holding on to until next month. I borrowed one and I’m sure they won’t notice.”

“Ada Shelby. You stole a book for me?”

“Borrowed. Not stole.”

You don’t care, too overwhelmed to do anything other than kiss her passionately.

77 notes · View notes

futuristicballoondream · 5 years ago

Text

Thoughts on the last chapter:

- Mo woke up early and had to decide whether or not to wake He Tian up. He got his clothes, changed, and probably hovered awkwardly hoping/expecting He Tian would wake up and wondering whether or not to wake him. Did he run off to the bathroom to get changed then come back and quietly fold the sheets and pjs careful not to make any noise? Did he patter over to see if He Tian was REALLY asleep? Was he dithering around, tidying up (he’s neat anyway), waiting for him to wake up and when he didn’t, Mo didn’t dare and just left? - When did Mo get his jacket back? Did He Tian fish it out for him last night before they went to bed, or was Mo rooting around in He Tian's wardrobe and draws looking for it (because, correct me if I'm wrong here, but I didn't see it out at all around the apartment). I wonder if he found anything else interesting...

- Jian Yi and Xixi sharing a wrap with no words needed. They are so in sync with each other. Also taking the mickey out of Guan Shan for being early, because he got told off for being late yesterday haha

- That script! Where did he get it? Did he write it? I thought only He Tian knew the story - so did he commission Jian Yi, did He Tian give it to Jian Yi the day before to read through, or are they doing a different script from school (so no maid Mo)? I bet He Tian will insist on Mo 'participating' in it regardless.

- He Tian's on the student council, of course he is. I bet the girls begged him to do it. For a second when I saw that key I thought it was a car key lol, I was like ‘Mo is deffo too young to drive!?’. I love his little cartoon, even in the pic Mo is frowning! And I love the way he draws his undercut.

- Bless Mo thinking it was some trick/that something would jump out at him. He's so brave going though life such a scaredy-cat, but he never lets it stop him.

- He Tian is so smart, I think it's interesting that he drew himself giving Mo a sandwich. He knows Mo loves sandwiches, so he's hinting that that's what is in the locker in order to get him to open it (otherwise Mo might not bother-he thought it was a trick even after a hint that is was a nice gift). But it’s clever because sandwiches are perishable, so he knows Mo will open it immediately. He was probably already thinking 'I hope it's not meat or something that should have been refrigerated and is now gross'.

- He Tian hasn't arrived at school yet. Will he come in? If not will Mo go to find him on break/after school/beforehand? What will Mo say/do, will he go to find him before class? I assume he won’t want to carry the guitar around all day (although I can imagine that happening from a plot perspective, everyone would be asking him to show it off, especially Jian Yi - I bet he wouldn't shut up about it ‘Xixi why won't you get ME a guitar?! So romantic’)! So maybe He Tian will think he hasn’t got it yet. I guess he’ll know for sure when Mo eventually gives his keys back. - What next? Mo looked SHAKEN so maybe he won’t be able to handle it. I bet he blushes every time he looks at He Tian now. Will Mo ask He Tian for lessons like he wanted? Did He Tian actually learn much in that week? Will he get a tutor at school (could he afford that?) or maybe he will stubbornly try to teach himself. I want to see He Tian skype him again and see the guitar in the background, or better, Mo holding it and He Tian begging him to ‘play me a song Momo’

- That picture, and the message! Was so not expecting that. Adorable. I wonder when He Tian took it, and how long he's had it. I hope he kept a copy for himself. Do you think he got one of the girls to take it for him ?

Safe to say, I think Mo will turn up tomorrow in the studs firmly in his ears.

#19 days #19天 #he tian #mo guan shan #tian shan #tianshan #old xian

120 notes · View notes

baronessedcheese · 4 years ago

Text

The Narrative Art of Nathalie’s Absence

Now with some Miraculous Ladybug spoilers out which diminish the clouds of uncertainty around Nathalie’s absence from the first episodes of Season Four, I would like to celebrate the writing team’s decision to create content I can analyse by taking the time to actually analyse it. Credit should be given where credit is due after all, and I’m offering it with both hands.

Warning: Season Four spoilers up until the sneak peek from Optigami

The key is the power of repetition. Repetition means that a feature (in literature, in music, in visual media and who knows where else) is repeated several times, to emphasize a certain idea. It’s a narrative device used to hammer something into the head of the audience.

Is that too boring? It might be. But how about letting the basics sink in and then turning it around to hit the audience in the face? When used effectively (to build up to a surprise, for example), repetition becomes a wonderful narrative tool. And I think the writers of Miraculous Ladybug had exploited it amazingly.

For a long time, Nathalie was the background character whose role was very repetitive: she had to be where Gabriel was supposed to be, ensuring that Gabriel was there, even if virtually. So her defining characteristic was to hold a tablet which had a video connection with Gabriel.

Using this structure over and over meant that the image of Nathalie holding a tablet (and Gabriel’s fais) inevitably became iconic to her character. So much so, that when Marinette did something similar (holding her phone while on a video call with Adrien) in Anansi, the fandom jokingly compared Marinette to Nathalie. This was the first time (I know of) when the connotations produced by repetition were seen at work.

After the concept made its nest in the audience’s consciousness, a writer can decide how to play with it. In Nathalie’s case, the writers turned away from the good old "usual," diverging form the expectations and creating disturbance by changing what the audience perceived as normal.

This is the narrative power Season Four was playing with up until Optigami (or more likely up until Gabriel Agreste, but we have no way of knowing that). Gabriel was only virtually present during the advertisement’s shooting in Mr. Pigeon 72, and he will be only virtually present in Queen Banana too. But it’s Bob Roth and Adrien who are dealing with the tablet in these two episodes, not Nathalie. This new setup breaks repetition and draws attention to Nathalie’s absence.

To spice up Nathalie’s absence even more, the writers combined it with the fear of the unseen (the fear of those who care about her character of course). The second to last time we have seen Nathalie (in Miracle Queen) she had been very ill, and the last time we have seen her (New York Special) she had been confined to bed. And the last time we have heard of her, she had created a sentimonster which destroyed half of the city. Knowing these facts without seeing the outcome, immediately followed by the show altering a returning element, creates suspense. And when there is suspense, there are questions. Did the transformation in the New York Special strain her? Is she recovering? Is she very sick? Is she in a hospital? Did the coma catch up to her?

And when the suspense is built up, it’s time for the punch to be delivered. And the punch in this case is that it was all a deception. We learn that Nathalie’s genius was the real threat in this season so far (and hopefully will remain to be). She was not truly absent during the first third of Season Four like we thought she was, she just seemed to be. All the while, she was spying on Ladybug’s friends, using every opportunity Shadow Moth gave her. Her glorious reappearance after her suspicious absence is the exact opposite of what the audience was manipulated to believe, and heavy suspense turning into a praise of how badass Nathalie actually is carries the narrative power repetition has.

So if we look at it like this, I think that Nathalie’s lack of screen time was a good decision on the writers' part. Breaking the habit of her carrying the tablet for Gabriel and showing others do it in her stead brought uncertainty, and playing with that must feel awesome. But being on the other end also has its rewards, I guess. I for one felt goosebumps yesterday, when I learned about what Nathalie was up to, because this is how you use repetition effectively. Nicely played, writers of the show! Shame that the Competition of TV Channels ruined the surprise.

#nathalie sancoeur #ml spoilers #ml season 4 #ml meta #d'Cheese bullshits #I have no idea if the writers are actually this artistic #it was a fun idea that's all #and I can't shut up about narrative techniques #am I an authority on the subjet? NO!#also: I'm totally fine with the weird faces the characters make on the screenshots

34 notes · View notes

bright-whump · 4 years ago

Note

hey you have irl nsfw blogs listed as a dni category but a fair amount of the art you reblog comes from or has attached comments from bdsm/fetish blogs and i have some honest confusion about where the boundaries are. is the difference that it’s illustration as opposed to photography? /gen

There's a near 0% chance this is actually genuine after the little friend group that bonds over harassing people the last few days, but it's not completely 0 I guess so sure, I will answer as genuine.

Is the difference that one is a drawing of a fake guy (I think almost exclusively from animes) who was created from nothing out of lines and shadowing with a digital brush, and one is a real human actual person who exists in the real world and had emotions/feelings during when this photo was taken?

Yeah.

One is "this is a drawing and consent isn't needed for them to be drawn like this nor do they, you know, actually exist or have any possibility of being hurt by being drawn like this because they have no being, they're not real" and the other is "this is a real person, I don't want to look at this because I personally am not comfortable with the fact I cannot possibly know if this very real person consented to either the act the photo is of OR of the photo being taken/posted online".

The ONLY time I'm okay with irl nsfw of anyone is when it was in a movie or tv show, when these people obviously consented to it beforehand and were 100% okay with people seeing, and even then I really don't like seeing it because it's just fuckin yucky!

I also don't like irl kink in text. It makes me extremely uncomfortable the more kinky it gets. Same reasoning. Kinky fanfic of fake characters vs a blog that talks about how they want to do shit to irl people/have those things done to them.

The exception I have to this art is ok rule (which includes written fic) is anything involving minors or kid/adult "ships", as would probably be expected, also in my DNI as "even if it's only implied" as in I instablocked an account and would again that tagged "sfw" art of cartoon characters that have never existed ever and don't even mildly look like real people with the ship name where all they were doing was standing next to each other.

But hopefully it's probably pretty obvious that I'm also not going to go through years of posts from everyone who posted + everyone who ever interacted with it to make sure no one's ever touched it who ever posted anything I don't like. I would literally never be able to reblog anything, ever, and mostly because it would just take too much time. I go through a few posts when people follow me and search key words I've learned will show up pretty quick if I want to block or not, and sometimes I click the op of art to look for other posts to reblog (like the most recent one I reblogged only reblogs anime, that I'm good with, and I queued other posts from them) but I'm not doing that to every single post I ever reblog from other whump blogs. I don't know how anyone could expect someone to, or even worse, use the content/actions of someone they don't even know to accuse them of something.

"You know the truck driver that delivered the apple you're currently eating right now to the store you bought it from went to jail for crime once right? Don't you do background checks on every single person that comes anywhere near anything you've ever bought? So you're a crime apologist? You support crime?"

Come the fuck on.

4 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

The Escape

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: mind control ooooo, general violence, description of stealing a car that is wildly inaccurate bc ive.... never stolen a car, dues ex machina

A/N: some background about the reader! this one takes place before the last chapter of the original series, way before anything with bucky. this oneshot kinda recounts her prison escape 👀 not a lot of bucky in this one, but kind how the reader got to where she is and stufffff i love a good origin story

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

You didn’t sleep the entire night. How could you? How were you supposed to sleep when you know you’re waking up to your inevitable death?

You refused a last meal a few hours ago. What was the point? You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

All you could do was count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until the footsteps would sound down the hall, arriving at your cell, the guards would stare at you through the bullet-proof glass wall, the only wall of four that wasn’t made of thick concrete.

They’d take you down to the observation room, they’d strap you down in the chair before asking for your final words. You’d stare out into the window of the observation room, unable to see through to the otherside, but knowing there’d be witnesses there. Maybe the families of people you killed. Maybe government officials, the ones who worked as hard as possible to get you this ending.

First, the sodium thiopental would be injected into your veins to sedate you. Then, the vecuronium bromide will be given that will send your body into paralysis. Finally, the potassium chloride will stop your heart. And your life will be over.

What a shame.

Too soon, your life was wasted. And too soon did the guards feet sound down the hall. And too soon did he arrive in front of your cell, ordering you to get up from your bed to shackle you.

He’s alone, you notice. Perhaps they don’t expect you to put up much of a fight.

Something snaps in your brain and before you realize you’re even doing it, you’re tapping into the young guard’s poor brain. He was a cop. A cop turned prison guard to spend more time at home, less time out in the world trying to catch bad guys. Never really bad guys, though, always just some unlucky soul caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Open the cell.” You tell him, finally through to his head. The keys jingle as he unlocks the three complicated locks attached to the side of the door.

You’re suddenly grateful for the hundreds of times they called you crazy, they called you a psycho, they told you you didn’t have powers, that that was your sad and sorry excuse of the reason for your crimes.

“Take off your clothes.” You order next. The young man begins to strip, taking off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear. White briefs with a blue waistband.

Once his uniform is on your body, you take everything he has, leaving his pistol with him.

“Shoot at everybody that comes in here.” You tell him, and he stares at you blankly, no longer in control of his actions as you take over.

You take a moment, closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on what the prison looks like, where the exits are, and where the guards are. You peek an eye open to glance at the man’s watch that now sits on your wrist, eight minutes until the shift changes.

Eight minutes for you to not fuck this up.

You close the cell door behind you, locking it, and making your way down the hall. You need to time this perfectly so that you’re slipping out as the other guards are leaving.

Just keep your head down, and get out as quickly as possible. Don’t talk to anyone. Just get out and start walking. You’ll get to the city eventually and you’ll hide out until you can keep making your way through New York. Maybe you’ll go to Jersey. Or up to New Hampshire.

Yeah, you’re just going to walk to New Hampshire, aren’t you?

Not a priority right now. Focus on getting out. A deep breath until you unlock the gate at the end of the hall, making your way out into another hallway. You visualize the map in your head once more and keep making your way down. You walk with confidence, head still slightly tilted down, but steps quick and light. Another guard turns the corner at the end of the hall and you make sure your steps don’t falter, and he walks right by you without a second thought.

You’re still unsure about the whole mind control thing. You don’t want to question it, because it seems to be pretty useful right now, but you don’t want to abuse it either, knowing your luck will eventually fail you.

It’s not long before you hear a gunshot ring out in the distance and you glance at a clock on the wall to see the shift change happening now.

You need to get out of here, now. Soon the guards will realize it’s you who’s missing from your cell and the search will begin. They’ll start with the entire grounds of the prison, which will hopefully buy you some time to make it to the city, if you sprint.

You finally make it to a more open area, exit signs now posted at the tops of doorways. You finally find a group of other men, some with bags or coats and you slip into the crowd, hoping that these are the guys leaving from their shift.

“Hey, have a good one, man. Tell the family I said hello.” A rough hand pats your shoulder before brushing past you.

Your stomach drops at the fact that these men are so unaware. So unaware that their real friend is in your cell, probably having a shootout with the new guards who just began their shift. The fact that these guards showed up to work today and the first thing they encounter is another guard in his underwear shooting at them.

Push it back. Push it back. Push it back.

As you’re huddled in between bodies, a bright light suddenly washes over your face. Sunlight. Your eyes burn at the feeling, a feeling so foreign having not felt it in months. You force them open though. You need to separate quickly, because not only do you not know where the parking lot is, you don't know which car is yours, you don’t have keys, and even if you did, you don’t know how to fucking drive.

Why did you never learn this! You never thought you’d need to since you decided you were going to join the military at sixteen, but you still should’ve fucking looked into it!

You don’t think you’ll make it walking. It’ll draw too much attention. The prison is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you’re just going to walk home? What would be worse is if someone offers you a ride.

New plan: find your car and hope it’s unlocked so you can sit inside until everyone leaves.

You know Hydra made you break into things before; houses, cars, etc. But you’ve tried to repress so much of that time that you can’t remember if you ever hot wired a car before.

You hope your luck doesn’t run out anytime soon.

Men arrive at their cars and the options quickly narrow down between an orange SUV and a black, fancy-looking car. You take your chances on the SUV.

It’s unlocked. It’s fucking unlocked. You shut the door and heave, feeling so hard to breath in the small space, but feeling relieved at the chance to finally make some noise and express your stress outside of that group of people you were stuck around.

“C’mon. C’mon! Fight or flight, c’mon, just make me know how to hot wire this.” You close your eyes, as though that will suddenly make the knowledge appear in your head. It doesn’t, surprisingly.

Until you look in the cupholder to see a dozen bobby pins. He probably has a daughter. “It’s going to have to do.” You mumble to yourself.

You quickly straighten them out and shove them into the small spot where the key goes. You twist and turn, holding a bunch of pins together to simulate an odd shape of the key, until finally you hear a click.

That’s gotta be good! Right? You go with it, continuing to twist until you hear a sputtering and crunchy sound of the engine starting.

This guy drives a piece of shit car. But it’s fucking on! You waste no time in putting the car into the drive before pulling out the lot. You make yourself extremely nauseous at your own driving, or rather, attempt at driving. You see in the rearview mirror the lights on the prison flashing, the bright red signaling that they’ve realized you escaped. You give yourself twenty minutes before they ditch the search of the prison grounds and look for you in the city.

Down the road you alternate between driving fifteen miles an hour to sixty, finding it so difficult to get a steady control of the car. But you’re doing it! You only need to make it to the city. That’s it.

“How the fuck do they make sixteen-year-olds do this shit?”

Eventually you get the hang of it. Still a terrible driver, but you at least don’t feel as scared driving among other cars.

The longer you drive, the more it catches up to you what you’ve done. Soon enough, the tears come and so do the sobs. Until you stop a red light and let out a yell of agony, the stress and sadness washing through your body.

It’s hard, wanting to break down completely but having to keep your eyes open for the light to change, and having to pay attention to your surroundings. You find a small alleyway to pull into and you put the car in park before ditching it.

No time to cry, you can cry later. You peek around at the name of restaurants and stores around you, not recognizing any of them. You look at the street signs not recognizing those, either. You haven’t been around society in almost ten years, and you feel hopelessly and utterly lost.

You look around the alleyway and see a big dumpster. Just for a little while, you think. You lift the lid and climb inside, shutting the lid above you.

It’s dark, greasy, and the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, but it’s somehow better than where you were. You don’t know how much time has passed, but the noise outside the dumpster grows, and you make a guess that it’s around six or seven in the morning.

If you want to blend in with the crowd, you need to change your clothes. A prison guard outfit will most definitely make you stand out to people, especially when news breaks that there's a prison escapee on the loose.

When you finally lift the lid to stand up, you look to your left to see a teenager, probably not older than seventeen, staring at you, frozen, key in hand, seemingly to open up some store that you’re in back of.

He’s tall and lanky, and what makes him stand out to you the most is the spiky black hair he sports on his head and the thick black eyeliner around the rims of his eyes.

“You… okay?” He asks, clearly confused as to why a random woman in a prison guard outfit is hanging out in the dumpster behind her place of work. But you’re frozen. You don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine the last twelve hours I’ve been through, it won’t make much sense.

“Are you… hungry?” He asks when you don’t answer. “I’m, uh, opening now, but no one will be here for another hour or two when we actually open. I can make you something if you like?” He offers.

He thinks you’re homeless. Which, you are, technically. But he doesn’t recognize you. Perhaps you haven’t made the news yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

You finally nod, climbing out of the dumpster bin and walking over to where he holds the door open for you.

You devour the sandwich he makes you, a simple ham and cheese on white bread, but it’s the best thing you’ve eaten in, well, a decade.

“How long have you been homeless for?”

“Are you from New York?”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“What’s your favorite band?”

So many questions come from the curious kid, kindness radiating from him. Casual conversation ensues, and you’re careful not to give too much away.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you swallow the last bit of sandwich.

“How do I get to Brooklyn from here?”

“You’re in Brooklyn, silly.” He responds and your eyes widen a bit, not thinking you’d get this lucky.

“Sorry, that came out kinda insensitive,” He apologizes, picking up your plate, “It’s not like you have a GPS or anything. Anywhere you’re trying to go in particular?”

You have a flash of a vision, Bucky sleeping soundly in his apartment, as the sun shines through in orange cracks in his blinds. Your mind envisions the building, where it is, what it looks like, and how you can get there. Why is your mind and body wanting to lead you to where Bucky is? If you’re trying to lay low, why does your vision want you to go to what’s the third most recognizable government figure in the country, after the President and Captain America?

“Uhm… to see a friend. I guess I wasn’t trying to go, but I have a lot of… free time now, so. Just don’t know what I’d say to him.” You tell the boy, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You’re not looking forward to the rest of the day, or week, or month, or life.

“Why don’t you write a note? That’s what I do; when I don’t think I can say the right thing, I write it instead. I can give you some paper and an envelope.” He offers.

This kid has got to be my guardian angel personified, you think. What are the fucking odds?

“You should take it with you, though. I gotta open up soon, and I’m sure you don’t want to experience the morning rush of this place.” You read my mind.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes, too. Where’d you get that, anyway? Do you hang around dumpsters often? Is that one from a Halloween store?”

“Okay, that’s too much. You’ve already been so kind.” You refuse, ignoring the curious questions that shoot out of his mouth.

“Then don’t take it as me being kind, take it as me being mean. You smell like shit from that dumpster.”

You can’t help but laugh, and oh how good it feels. You never thought you’d laugh again, and here you are, giggling at being told you smell bad by some goth teenager.

Soon enough, you’re walking through the backways of buildings, in a crisp white t-shirt that smells of the cologne of a teenage boy, and note and envelope in hand. It takes you about forty five minutes to make it to Bucky’s apartment building, and it was only slightly less stressful that your walk out of that prison.

Through the glass door, you don’t see anyone at the front desk, so you open the door and step inside.

To your left you see a wall of mailboxes, and one large one at the bottom overflowing with letters and gifts. You take a wild guess and say that that one belongs to Bucky. You’ve heard he’s a pretty popular guy, along with the company he keeps.

You take the stairs to the eighth floor and the fourteenth room, hoping the 814 on that mailbox wasn’t random. You scribble out on your piece of paper, tearing it off and keeping the rest in case you need for another note in the future, or a snack. You bite at the blue bracelet on your wrist before it breaks and stick it in the envelope, tucking in the flap to close it.

You place it on the ground and silently press your ear to the door. You don’t hear him, but you hear the sound of the television, announcing your missing presence and the manhunt around the city. You take that as a cue to leave quickly.

Why you feel such a draw towards Bucky, you’re not sure, but for some reason, you have a feeling that leaving him this gift of sorts won’t come back to haunt you.

Perhaps it’ll even lead to the opposite.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #badass queen who can't drive

118 notes · View notes