#and just one more side note backtracking to the fan expectations discussion and feeling like you're owed viewership for being on the dsmp
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Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]
Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.
But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.
Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]
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There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.
Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.
The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.
Ignore the comments.
Keep moving.
You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.
Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.
He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.
You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.
“I make what I’d like to see.”
The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.
Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.
And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.
Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.
“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.
You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.
“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”
Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.
“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.
He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.
It made sense.
“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”
You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.
“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.
“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”
Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.
“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.
“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”
You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.
“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”
For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.
“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”
He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.
“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”
“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”
“You are smart, don’t give me that.”
You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.
“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.
“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”
“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”
“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”
Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.
“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.
He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.
He was one in a million, that was for sure.
“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”
“Do! Any time. Actually…”
Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.
“Get yourself a nice dinner.”
You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.
“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”
He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.
“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”
You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.
You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.
He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.
As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.
“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.
Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.
Tom cleared his throat.
“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”
You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.
“We’re shooting tomorrow?”
“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”
It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.
“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.
“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”
You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.
“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.
“I missed that, love?”
“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”
He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.
“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”
Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.
“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.
“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”
“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.
You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.
“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.
He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.
“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.
“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”
“Perfect.”
He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.
“Bye, Tom!”
“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”
He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.
*
You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.
Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.
Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.
As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.
You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.
Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.
He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.
“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.
You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.
“Morning! What have you got for me?”
The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.
There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.
“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”
You bit your lip.
It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.
“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.
Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.
Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.
“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”
You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.
He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.
“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”
You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.
There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.
“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”
You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.
“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.
You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.
“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.
“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”
He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.
He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.
You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.
And then both of you waited.
It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.
“White sheets?”
“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.
“I was thinking white sheets.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.
In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.
Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.
You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.
Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.
You felt sick to your stomach.
“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”
“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.
“Right.”
He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.
“Are you okay?”
Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.
Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.
“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”
“Did you not sleep well?”
“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”
His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.
“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”
“Sweetheart –”
You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.
“Let’s get this over with!”
He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.
“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.
You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.
Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.
He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?
“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”
Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.
“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”
“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”
You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.
As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.
“Do you want those in shot?”
You shrugged.
“Might be hot?”
He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.
As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.
Fuck.
Why was this so different to a regular shoot?
You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.
You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.
“Speak?”
“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.
Then there was nothing else to do.
He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”
You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.
“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.
You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.
It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.
“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”
He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.
“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.
“I’m serious.”
For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.
“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”
You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.
“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”
“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”
You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”
“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”
Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.
And that was enough for you to perform.
Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.
You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.
Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –
The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.
“Enjoy yourself.”
With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.
It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.
You needed to touch yourself.
One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.
You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.
One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.
You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.
More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.
Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.
There.
There.
You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.
This was what you wanted.
That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.
You felt empty.
Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.
Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.
Needed it.
Needed to feel full.
You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.
It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.
Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.
On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.
Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.
But you needed more.
Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.
You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.
With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.
And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.
You wanted to cry.
He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.
You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.
God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –
Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –
“You’re doing amazing.”
You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.
“Another one?”
His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.
You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.
The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.
You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.
Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”
Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.
Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.
“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.
Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.
When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.
“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.
“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”
Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.
“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.
The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.
Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.
“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
*
Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.
Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.
*
When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.
You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.
Processing what had happened yesterday.
In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.
You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.
As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.
You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.
#lord forigve me for i have have rpf x reader#13atoms#fic#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston fic#tom hiddleston imagine#this is a weird one#i think 2 more chapters maybe#lmk what you think!
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Study Sessions
Calum’s always wanted to go back to school and it’s the first midterm that makes him realize just how long it’s been since he’s been in a class. Thankfully, Noa’s nice, albeit a little too organized, and more than happy to help.
Who asked for a 21 page long fic about Calum, Valentine’s Day, smut, and poetry? Bc I got one hot off the presses.
There is 18+ content in this fic. Please, no one under the age of 18 interacting or reading. Thank you!
You can support me on ko-fi. I’m saving up for graduate school.
____________________________________
Noa really wants to kick herself. She always left her pencil pouch in the front zipper of her backpack. Everything had a system; everything had a place with Noa. The placement of the full-length mirror in the corner of the dorm room, the cleaning supplies, the rotation of who cleaned what, making sure her books were always in the same spot, and always, always putting the pencil pouch in the front zipper of her backpack was important to Noa. She was sure it drove her roommate up the wall in their dorm room. But Brooklyn, Noa’s roommate, could be just as anal retentive about the trash and boxes from their addictive online shopping, and keeping the room free other people past 11 pm. Their crazies matched. So things worked out well.
Maybe Noa was panicking a little too much about a pencil pouch. That didn’t really matter though. Her system was out of whack and she would have to backtrack to the science building on the other side of campus before making a loop and going to the library after class. Her printer refused to print properly and while it was annoying having to go to the library at the end of the day to type up and print out her notes to study later, it made catching group dinner with her friends easier on Thursday’s because she didn’t leave the west side of campus to go to her dorm. This did, however, mean that when Noa was going to get a lot more steps in today. Not bad, but not ideal.
This also means that she’s going to have to use a laptop. She hated using her laptop because it meant she’d have to rewrite her notes so there were no gaps in her notebook. Noa could see that it was a very contrived system--at the end of the day, all she needed were the notes. That’s it. But it mattered to the deep recesses of her mind. It had to flow from handwritten notes to her laptop, no matter how she had to backtrack
“Here, I have an extra.”
Noa blinks at the hushed voice. A black pen slides in next to her open notebook. The hand is tan and tattooed. She knows those initials anywhere. Calum. She smiles and looks up to him, even if the shadows cover his face thanks to the bucket hat. It’s a staple she’s noticed over the course of the semester. “Thanks. Promise I won’t steal it,” Noa grins.
Calum exhales his laughter. “I’d be a little upset but they are really good pens to write with. So I’d understand.”
“I’m a woman of my word, though. So you won’t have to chase me down.” Noa dates the top right corner of her blank page and then pulls out her book. She hates the book. She wasn’t able to get a copy to rent and had to kick out 50 bucks for the anthology for class, one she never really use again either.
Calum gives a hum in response, his own pen twirling around his fingers. The professor, a man in his late sixties at the youngest, with thinning white hair and thick circular glasses walks in through the doors. There’s still five minutes before class starts and the chatter amongst students quiets just a little but doesn’t stop. Calum looks to her notebook, the way she’s written the poet’s name at the top of the page, her handwriting is tight together with a lot of width for each letter. It’s pretty with a little mess to it.
He’s noticed that she normally uses purple ink for her notes and part of him feels bad for not having a purple pen for her. “Sorry it’s not a purple pen,” Calum states turning to face her.
How the hell did Calum notice that? Sure she had a color for every class she took each semester. But surely no one else would’ve noticed that. It had only been three weeks of the semester. No one could’ve known that besides her group of friends and her roommate. “No, no, it’s okay. I forgot my pencil pouch in my last class so you really saved me from having to use my laptop.”
“Don’t like it?”
Noa shakes her head, feeling some of her Senegalese twists falling from the bun she put it up into on her walk across campus. Though this part of campus was walkable the heat of summer was dry and it took no prisoners some days. “I remember everything better if I write it down in my own words instead of just typing everything down the professor says. It’s like I’m not learning anything.”
He gives another nod. Though Calum studied for his high school diploma on some late nights, on tour buses, hell even in the studio, he liked sitting in class. He liked processing things and attempting to get the right words together to understand the core of things. He liked the sense of normalcy. It was nice to be learning not just from a textbook but from everyone else in the room. Sure this is just a poetry class, and sure he hadn’t really known what to expect with a title like “Modern Poetry from 1920” but he was straddled in and was surely going to see until the very end.
Before Calum can respond, the professor clears their throat. He fishes his book out of his bag too and flips to the poems that he read the night before. “Hope everyone’s having a great day,” the professor starts. Even from the fifth row of the tiny room, Calum notices the shakes in the older man’s hands. The room is full of three to four gray rectangular tables pushed together to create rows. They sit two at each table comfortably. Each row sits about forty students comfortably.
“A quick reminder, your first midterm is next week. All the poets we’ve discussed including today’s poet is going to be material that I will pull questions from. I’ll be providing the excerpts if a question calls for it. I’m saving about ten minutes at the end of class for us to discuss it more in-depth.”
With a quick dab to the corners of his mouth, he finds a volunteer to read the first poem up for discussion. Once the first reading is concluded, the professor looks around for another person to read. Noa lifts her gaze and she locks eyes with the professor. A fucking rookie mistake. Something she knew better of in her eighteen years of being in school. But here she is making it. They smile at her and point at her. “Miss Noa, right? Why don’t you read for us?”
With a nervous habit of biting her pens, Noa puts Calum’s pen down and picks at her nails underneath the table. She nods and lets her eyes drift down to the page. “When over the flowery, sharp pasture’s/ edge, unseen, the salt ocean/lifts its form.” Her voice is a little shaky and though William Carlos Williams's poem is short, she becomes more confident by the end.
Calum watches her reading more than he listens. In the three weeks classes have started, she’s never read. Neither has he. But it’s already a little awkward to walk around campus, being in a classroom isn’t too bad but it’s a confined space. He knows people are looking. He knows that they know who he is. He does what he can do just blend in and even hide. He likes listening to her reading. Her insights in class have always kind of blown Calum away too, now that he thinks about it.
As discussion opens up, Calum finds himself taking fewer notes than usual and waiting for Noa to speak again. She doesn’t say much about the first poem but the second about the death of a cat she cuts in to make reference to Robert Frost’s poem. “I know there’s a literal connection of fire and ice in each poem but there’s death in both pieces too. Frost and Williams’ are on opposite ends of the same spectrum in a way. Williams is talking about fleas that couldn’t escape death and Frost mentions that nature is powerful that if it doesn’t take you with the sweeping fire then it will swallow you up with water. Williams's titled his piece, ‘Complete Destruction,’ and he details the destruction of a pet, of maybe even memories. While Frost is more metaphorical with some religious undertones too about the destruction of society and earth.”
Calum grins a little, watching the way she shrugs at the end of her thought. As much as if she weren’t so sure of herself. When she glances over to him, he nods at her, writing down a condensed version of her thought. The class goes on and the professor ends early like they stated. There are a few questions about the style of the midterm but not too many about the content. So the professor pulls up a small canvas bag. “Before you leave, feel free to grab a piece of candy. I know it’s Valentine’s Day and you guys may or may not still have classes after this. So I hope it helps your day just a little. I have chocolate and non-chocolate options.”
He upturns the bag gently, shaking the wrapped candies onto the table next to the podium. Laptops are shut, people get up to venture to the candy. Noa slides the black pen across the gray table to Calum. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Without much thinking, in the shuffle of packing up belongings, Noa lets what she intends to be just a thought fall over her lips. “I haven’t had a Valentine’s in so long, candy from a professor feels special,” she jokes.
Calum laughs a little, pocketing the pens and stands. “What’s your poison?”
Noa looks up at him, the cut of his jaw and the soft smile on his lips, puffing out his cheeks. “I’m a dark chocolate fan. But anything chocolate is fine.”
He nods and shuffles, backpack thrown up over one shoulder. Calum gets to the table and picks up what he estimates to be the two biggest Hershey's kisses on the table. He picks up one for himself too. Noa finally gets her backpack zipped and she slides out from between the tables. Calum drops the kisses into her hands when she pauses at the door to the classroom. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Her heart shouldn’t flutter like it does when Calum smiles at her. She pulls the twists down and slips the silk tie around her wrist. “I’m sure you’ve got someone to get too. But thanks, though.”
Calum pushes open the door to the English building and holds it open for her. “See that’s where you might be a little wrong on your analysis.”
Noa scuffs, attempting to bite back the smile. The kiss doesn’t last long before she’s biting into the candy. She shakes her head. The joke is cheesy but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t like it. “I won’t be won over by academic pickup lines.”
They pause at the end of the pathway that leads up to the building. Students are carrying on around them, to and fro they scuttle across the asphalt and brick. “Do you have another class after this?” Calum asks.
“No, it’s my last one of the day.”
“Since we’re both lonely on Valentine’s Day, do you mind if we study together? For the midterm? It would really seal our fates.”
Noa nods. Who is she to say no to Calum Hood? She could say no of course and it’s as the breeze kicks up another heavy and slightly stale pocket of hot air that she’s reminded of her misplaced pencil pouch. “Shit, I have to go to the science building. I left my pencil pouch there. I have no clue if there’s another class in there and like I need that.”
“I-I can walk with you. If you’d like. I don’t get to see much of the campus.” Calum keeps his schedule to Monday, Wednesday, Friday. He’s here from about eleven to four most days and then he heads back home. Hanging around campus would only serve to get Calum caught but he knows it might be awkward to offer his place to study.
“Are you sure? It’s kind of far and I’m not a slow walker.”
Readjusting his hold on his strap, Calum nods. “Lead the way.”
Noa ties her hair back. “Less scenic route to get there. More scenic route on the way back.” When she steps, it’s more like a run. Noa cuts straight across, over the grass and dodging the bushes. Calum wasn’t sure what he was expecting but her power walking like his mother when they go to the grocery store wasn’t it. He keeps up though, regrettably passing by the dogs playing fetch without cooing at them.
They cut behind buildings. A less-traveled path Calum can tell but it’s well known amongst though that have to use it to get to and from classes. He watches the others power walking past him and he’s glad he was able to keep most of his classes in buildings close together. Though parking was terrible and required him parking sometimes a block away, it was better than this walk, especially on the short time they had between classes.
His thighs start to burn just a little when they reach the towering brick building. It looks almost like every other building on campus, minus the sign hammered into the ground--it’s the only thing that denotes its uniqueness. Noa takes the front stairs two at a time. “Holy shit, how do you do this every other day and still live?” he huffs once they enter. The lights are bright against the sterile white tiles and marble. Another marker, he notes, the older buildings on campus have dimmer light, less white. This has a more modern feel to it.
“I don’t. I die about three minutes into the walk.”
He’s laughter leaves him in bursts, as he attempts to get his breathing back. Thankfully she stays on the first floor. Any more stairs and Calum’s sure he would’ve just opted to wait at the doors for her. The room she stops at does have some students piling in but she doesn’t stop for too long. When Noa ducks her head inside, she notices her pencil pouch sitting on a folding chair at the back of the lecture hall. Not where she left it. But she’s glad she doesn’t have to go sifting through some three hundred seats in the classroom.
She’s quick to grab it. She can feel the eyes of the other students looking at her. Because she doesn’t raise a ruckus, the stares don’t last long and she closes the door quietly behind her. “You all good?” Calum asks.
She holds the black pouch with roses up and grins. “All good. I just hope I didn’t kill you with that trek.”
He watches her slip into the front pocket. “I mean, I died about two minutes into it. But I’m okay now.”
Noa sucks on her teeth, a tsk falling over her lips. “Gotta keep at it. You’ll be a pro at it in no time. Is the library cool? Doubling seal our fates?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The walk back is less intense. They take the asphalt paths and go the long way around in front of buildings. They stop for a moment to just watch the dogs running on the green. They loop back around to the English building and continue on down past it. “So are you getting a degree or auditing classes?” Noa asks.
“Auditing. I thought about going back full time but it works better for me to just audit them. The whole getting grading thing still kind of gets to me.” Calum likes to fulfill his curiosity. He just didn’t want the fear of failing to hinder him. And while he had loaded his schedule at nine credits, which was only three classes, it was more than enough. He was tempted to drop one of his classes and though Calum wasn’t super fond of the intro to psychology class, he wanted to tough it out. Prove to himself that he didn’t have to avoid the obstacle but could instead tackle it head-on.
Noa gives a hum. “Gives you time to still work on music?”
“Yeah.” He isn’t shocked that she knows. He is glad though that she doesn’t treat him differently. That she hasn’t made a huge deal of his fame. He wishes he could cloak that, at least here at school. “What about you? What are you studying?”
“I was Community Health Sciences. I switched to Public Affairs last year. So I have another semester tacked.”
The trek to the library feels somehow too short and too long at the same time. Calum’s sure it��s his thighs still angry at the stairs to get inside the science building. He learns she has an older brother and that’s she the first one in her family to go to college. She worries about the extra semester and the finances but her parents have encouraged her to keep going. Noa finds out that Calum has a dog and if he had to pick something to study it would probably be in English. He could see himself in Religious Studies. Calum’s not sure though and he’s glad he doesn’t have to be sure. He can just take whatever for the moment.
Inside the library, Noa goes to make a beeline for the open computers and then stops. “We can book a study room? I’m not sure if you just want to be, like out in the open?”
Calum looks around. It’s nearing about 5 in the evening. No one is really in the library. Most people have plans. There’s no reason to sit inside the library on Valentine’s Day when one can drink in sorrows or be out celebrating. “Whichever you prefer.”
“Let’s just get a room. I doubt anyone’s going to be hanging out here on a day like this. But I doubt you’ll be back here at all. So why not go for the full experience? The only thing you're missing is final’s week and hunkering down in a study room where you pull an all-nighter and show up to your class in your pj’s and with your pillow in your backpack.”
He doesn’t want to believe that actually happens. But she says it so matter of factly. “You’re kidding right?”
“I am speaking from experience.” She walks one of the open computers and pulls out her laptop. She logs into both of them and then pulls up the scheduling system for the various study rooms located throughout the library. “We can only technically schedule in thirty-minute blocks for up to two hours. But there’s a trick around that.”
Calum logs in as he’s instructed to do on her laptop and they agree on a room. She books it, for every hour and when the blocks show up gray for Calum on his refresh, he goes in and books it for every half hour so that they have the room from 5 to 8. “So the library has pretty strict rules about noise. Generally, the higher the level you are the quieter you have to be. The second floor is as far as I go. You can talk inside the study rooms but nothing super chatty unlike the ground floor,” Noa explains on their ascent. “I have my notes from the other classes printed out. And I was going to type up the notes from today before working on a study guide. How does that sound?”
“Anything sounds good right about now because I literally have no clue how I’m supposed to study for this at all.”
Noa grins, cracking open the door to their room. It’s tucked towards the back of the floor, in a corner. It’s behind the bathrooms and not too far from the stairs so it’s not hard to navigate to and from for bathroom or snacks located in the vending machines on the first floor. “Trust me that’s my entire college experience. You kind of figure out what works best for you as you go along.”
The room isn’t big by any means. The white table sits in the middle of it with two trash cans near the door and a whiteboard that holds the left behind lettering of study sessions past is the complete setup, not including the four chairs pushed into the conference length table. Noa drops her bag into a chair and finds her pencil pouch, she pulls out a couple dry erase markers and an eraser in a plastic bag.
“Do you want to write down the different poets we’ve studied on the board? Start there at the very least.”
Calum, putting his bag down in the free chair, nods. It’s when he glances down at his phone just to check the time that he worries for a moment that he should get home to Duke but after shooting a quick text to his roommate he confirms that someone is there to take him out and feed him. Noa opens up her laptop, notebook and pulls the textbook out too from the depths of her backpack.
Calum’s handwriting is mostly uppercase and narrow. But it’s mostly neat. The markers thankfully don’t squeak on the board. He draws columns for each poet, thinking that will at least help contain the guaranteed mess of ideas during this window. He even goes a step further and creates squares for each poem, scribbling down the titles into corners
The room’s not even that hot, while Calum browsing through his notes. Noa’s been typing for a while since he finished setting up the drawing board. But suddenly from the walk around his jacket is too warm. He knew he shouldn’t have worn it but out of some sort of habit, out of routine, Calum snagged the extra layer and now he was regretting it. It’s like his body finally caught up and he slips out of it.
“I thought we were studying, not getting a show,” Noa teases. The thought slips through her lips with a grin. She’ll admit that she does find Calum attractive. Most times he didn’t really flaunt his body or even his status in class and that made him even more attractive. But she didn’t think she’d ever have a shot. She didn’t really think she had one now all things considered but he was the one that asked her for help. But he had started it and she was just going to see if it would continue.
Calum feels the heat immediately flooding his cheeks. “It’s just warm, is all.”
“Kidding, sorry.” Her gaze flicks up from her screen. Her fingers are still going, the taps echoing amongst the silence of their room.
Calum recognizes that gaze, the smirk that tells him she is joking, but she is also not joking if he’s willing to take that step. Calum goes back to his laptop, he’s on nothing right now just staring at a blank google doc. But he makes the initiative to break the tension and ask her what her school email was. “We can just use a Google doc to make things easier.”
As she rattles it off, Calum adds her. Maybe Noa completely misread this. Maybe he really only wanted to help to study. It definitely was a hit to her pride. She almost felt like a deflated balloon as she typed down the last bullet point in her notes. “I’m going to print these out. I’ll be right back.”
Calum nods, watching her leave with her laptop in hand. His brows knit together. She sounded hurt and Calum feels like he could absolutely kick himself. Of course, he found Noa attractive. He would’ve made a move and even though he wasn’t technically getting a grade for this midterm he wanted to at least feel confident going into. God, he was an idiot. Even after all the partying, and all the girls before, Calum still finds a way to fuck something up--even innocent flirty.
Standing at the printer, Noa exhales. Just a hit to her pride, a hard hit too. But she wouldn’t chicken out. That’s for sure. She’d march back up there and she’d see this study session through. She could do that much. Maybe she could convince the girl to her left to switch seats come Monday. That way at the very least she wouldn’t feel awful going to class. She couldn’t drop the class now--not without a Withdraw showing up on her record. Professors weren’t too keen on adding students this late into the semester. Withdrawing, would thankfully, not hurt her graduation credit hours.
She almost wants to laugh. Just because some guy rejected her does not mean she had to drop a class. All she had to do was keep a level head about all of this. Even though asking to switch seats would be blasphemous, she still enjoyed the class. It was one of the few classes she could take each semester that were just for fun. She would not give that up just because Calum turned her down. As the last of the pages spits out from the printer, she grabs her stack. All she has to do is go over the notes. They don’t even have to stay in the room until 8.
The stairwell is stuffy as she ascends back to the second floor. She’s always hated them in the summer, the way the air clung to the sweat and humidity of the temperatures outside. Noa wasn’t sure who designed it but it was only ever the library stairs that felt so awful in the summer and even the early fall. She can see Calum with his head in his hands from the glass walls that separate open library from the study room. For half a second, she wonders if something is wrong--like with his dog. If that were the case, he could’ve just left.
“You alright?” she asks opening the door.
Calum, not even hearing the door, pops his head up. His heart thunders in his chest. He was wallowing in his own misery a little too deeply. “Yeah-yeah, I’m good.”
With a nod, Noa pulls at the silk tie around her twist and stares up at the quadrants on the whiteboard. “So the best place to start studying is just as the beginning of the coursework. Lame I know. But professors usually start there for a reason.”
There goes his window. Gone all within two minutes to print notes. He nods and flips to the starting poet. “So we have Frost,” Calum starts, the blue dry erase marker semi firmly gripped between his fingers.
“Start with basics. The year he was born, maybe what his life was like, his most famous works.”
Calum spins his chair to face the whiteboard, attempting to recall some of the biography from memory. It’s when the lulls hit that Noa steps in. He hears the table creak but he doesn’t turn. He can almost feel her leaning into it. He can see just how the tops of her exposed thighs, not dared to be hidden by her denim shorts, would squeeze and smush against the end of the table. The weather is still warm. It’s still perfect weather for shorts and skirts.
He turns his attention back to the task at hand though, listening to Noa speak behind him. “I’ve had this professor before. He’s a kind of lenient grader. But he wants to make sure you can back your shit up with context from the poem. You can’t say someone’s trying to talk about rainbows in their poem when they’re clearly allusions to chickens.”
Calum snorts at her point but nods. “Understood. Now this is going to sound dumb--”
Noa’s quick to cut him off. “No such thing as dumb questions.”
Calum turns, seeing her leaning on her hands on the table. One knee is resting on the chair she once sat. Her gaze is stuck on the whiteboard. For a brief second, Calum lets his gaze fall. The jade green of her top nestled against her dark skin and the way her breasts are almost threatening to spill over the flimsy material almost makes Calum forget his question. She was not wearing that before. She wore a white shirt, tied in the front. There was something green underneath it--he knows that. He clears his throat. “I assume you don’t mean illusions like magic tricks and I’m a little confused.”
Noa finally brings her gaze back down, pushing back upright realizing the position she’s in. “Allusions, they’re like indirect references. So you’re talking about a thing without actually stating what it is.” She picks up a different colored marker and writes the word down in the corner of the whiteboard not holding any information.
Calum watches the way her undershirt rises a little as she stretches up to write but flicks his gaze to the floor. “Think he’ll ask about those on the midterm?”
“He could,” she says and then leans against the table again. Calum stands. She’s too close and he’s at a bad angle to keep his focus on the material at hand.
Facing the spread of her notes, their laptops, and textbooks, Calum looks out over the sea without really seeing any of the details. He wants to make a move that shows he’s interested without it being too subtle or too brazen. Resting his weight onto his palms, he shakes the thought from his head. It’s probably too late now. “So, like, for example, a question could be what are allusions in whatever poem of his choice?”
“Yeah, but he’ll probably ask something more like compare and contrast.” Calum nods. He definitely feels a bit better about going into this exam than he did before. But he still feels like an idiot with Noa.
Noa turns her head just a little. Not a lot. Just enough to see the bucket hat still on his head and the way his face is almost entirely hidden. She knows though. She knows the cut of his jaw and the way his lips are a little chapped but mostly plump. As she stares at him, she does feel the urge to apologize. At least just to let him know that she didn’t mean to cross any lines and that she hopes there are no hard feelings. She can feel her heart thumping in her throat as she gently rests a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry about earlier,” she whispers. His head never raises and she drops her touch before going back to the whiteboard. “That was a poor taste joke.”
Calum’s breath hitches. It catches right on his inhale and he nearly chokes on it. “You don’t have to apologize.” His voice is soft, so much so that she barely catches it before turning to grab her phone to take a picture of their notes on the board.
“What?” She’s not believing her own ears. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I thought--I was sure I had crossed a line.”
“No, it didn’t make me uncomfortable.” His gaze is soft when it lands on her. Her brows are pulled together and he has to stop his hand from raising to smooth them over with his thumb. He feels the twitch, the pull to take her hand and he lets himself to that. Just gently brushing his fingers over her hand pressed into the table next to his.
“But-what?” She could’ve sworn the way he diverted the topic was a sign that she was pressing her luck.
“Really, I didn’t mind. I don’t mind.”
Noa shakes her head, the twist slipping over her shoulder a little. “I know I’m not a math major but this isn’t adding up.”
Calum really can’t tear his gaze away from her lips. They glisten a little, dark brown and a hint of pink from the saliva on her tongue as she licks them. It’s really lame, he thinks, that he’s this hesitant to make a move on her. But she hasn’t pulled away from him just yet so that must mean something. Maybe he could show her what he meant. “Is-Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Fuck. Oh fuck. Noa nods, she’s sure her eyes are blown wide. She’s not sure however that she’s breathing properly until the whisper of “Yes” falls from her lips. They inch closer together. Like stuttering traffic that stops and starts and soon there’s no more space to be hesitant. Their lips brush, slightly parted too. He can smell the chocolate she had earlier and it’s so sweet in his nose. Before the first kiss truly ends Calum reaches for her waist, turning her into him. He leans into the table, his back facing the door, and she leans into him.
Her arms loop around his neck, nails trailing at the edge of his t-shirt and his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine when her nails scratch at his skin. Calum encases her waist with his arms, pulling her into him. Her kiss tastes like the Hershey kiss and her skin is so soft beneath his fingers. When he breathes in, his nostrils are lined with the smell of coconut. An intoxicating scent if he’s going to associate it with her at all.
The sounds of their kisses, lips meeting and pulling apart before meeting again echo slightly around the room. She reaches up, pulling away from his lips just a little. Calum stretches out for her though, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth. She laughs, mostly from her chest before she gives in and recaptures his lips.
His cologne isn’t too strong. It’s got a hint of musky to it with some more floral overtones and Noa thinks she has to figure out the exact scent because she would love to just bathe in it. She doesn’t stop her previous movements though and pulls the hat up. Calum ducks his face into her shoulder and chest.
She didn’t expect a buzz cut but it looks good and she runs her hands over the back of his head. “Can’t kiss you if your face is buried in my shoulder.”
“But I can kiss you,” he counters, gently capturing the juncture of her neck and shoulder between his lips. The touch is so feather-light, almost as if her skin were made of glass. But it makes her hot and her heart strums steadily in her chest. It’s almost sad how the softest touch is turning her own. She’s glad for the moment Calum can’t see what effect this is having on her. It’s shameful how wet her underwear is.
Noa lets her head go as Calum kisses across her throat too, his tongue trails after the places his lips have touched first. Her hair brushes over Calum’s fingers, as they start to travel down to her ass, cupping her over the denim shorts. They hardly do much to stop the imagination from running wild. His fingertips run across her skin, digging into the crevice between the line of her ass and the tops of her thighs.
A moan escapes her. Noa doesn’t even feel the shame anymore. Not as her hand reaches between their bodies and trails up his chest. She cups his throat and pushes him up. His grin is lazy on his face, eyes heavy with lust. “So I see you really didn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” The vibrations of his voice tickle her palm but she doesn’t drop the hold and Calum doesn’t duck away from it. Would Noa let herself go? She could attempt to bring Calum back to her dorm though she’s not sure if Brooklyn is in the room. If so, that’s definitely an awkward shuffle to text Brooklyn and then walk all the way back to her room.
She drops her hand from his throat, before running it up under his shirt. He tenses for a moment at her touch but grins. Noa decides not to think too much about where things go and where they wind up at the moment. Instead, she kisses at his neck, running her tongue over his adam’s apple. Calum has to bite his lip just a little to keep the groan from escaping him so loudly. He knows she knows just what she’s doing as her nail scratch at his lower abdomen right along the band of his boxer briefs.
“I have another question,” Calum asks, a soft sigh escaping his lips when she kisses up to his ear.
“Which is?”
“I can only assume we’re not studying poetry anymore. But I just want to make sure it’s okay if I study your anatomy?”
Noa snorts, her laughter shaking her shoulders as she presses her face into Calum’s chest. “I told you I wouldn’t be won over by academic pick up lines but I’ll be damned if you don’t keep trying.”
“They seemed to work,” Calum takes the sides of her face into his hands. There’s still a grin on her face when she lets him pull her upwards a little. “Is that a yes though in all seriousness?”
“That’s a yes,” she sighs, enjoying the slight roughness at the tips of his fingers as he brushes them over her cheeks.
“How likely are we to get caught in here?”
“If we don’t make too much noise, pretty low. I mean, who else is coming to the library on Valentine’s Day?”
Calum presses her in close before pushing up with his hips and spinning them around. He clears away a spot before hoisting her to the table. “I must admit, I like the sounds of those odds.”
Calum stands between her legs. She spies a set of chains around his neck and pulls them out, gently holding the gold and silver chains in her palms. She’s not sure what they mean, the symbols on the black enamel or the gold plate but they look good hanging around his chest. “Sentimental?”
Calum runs his fingers over the strip of skin just under the edge of her green tank top and the top of her shorts. “Yeah.”
The subject is dropped rather quickly and she kisses the underside of his jaw. Her fingers find the hem of Calum’s t-shirt. He pulls the black tee up without much thought and she lets her hands wander of the expanse of his chest. She lingers at his tattoos. She doesn’t question those either. Just admires them and the way the black ink stands out on his golden skin. There’s a moment, in the back of her mind, that she’s acutely aware of how much darker she is compared to him. It's a thing she’s always been aware of for sure, it’s a general fact about herself that is generally inescapable. But she’s not sure why it matters now.
Calum can see her mind wandering and he tips her chin. “You can always say no. It’s okay.” He doesn’t want her to feel pressured. It won’t hurt him at all if she backs out of this. He’d rather her protect herself than worry about him.
“It’s just--a thing, a small thing. Nothing to do about this.”
“You sure?”
Noa nods, flicking her twists over her shoulder. Calum raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question. “I’m very sure,” she says, tugging at the band of his pants.
There’s a soft chuckle he gives and nods, satisfied with her answer. “I was going to break out another taboo pickup line.”
Noa gets a grip around his neck and brings him down. Her kiss is soft and slow before she pulls back just a little. Their lips brush as she speaks. “As much as I hate those, they are effective. So I hate that fact a little more.”
Calum dares to bring his hands down, under the shorts and underwear. What he finds makes him groan into her lips. She’s dripping onto his fingers. “Very effective,” he whispers, teasing her heat with his fingers as he collects just a little taste of her onto his fingers. She watches through slightly hooded eyes as Calum licks his fingers. “God,” he huffs.
He goes back to get yank the shorts and panties. She pushes herself up to assist and Calum wastes no time slipping down to his knees. Noa reclines back, hands pressing down into the table and the edge of a notebook. Calum takes a generous lick from her. She’s sweet on his tongue and all he wants is to drown in the arousal she drips.
Noa shudders at the first touch and she’s glad she’s facing the whiteboard and not the window because the look on her face, of pleasure and also desperation is a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone. Her breakup sophomore year kind of scorned her. She’s had the offers at parties or even out at bars, but never took them. Right now, the way she’s responding to Calum should be embarrassing but it’s the last thought on her mind.
All Noa wants and can think about is how Calum’s tongue flicks against her clit, the way his lips wrap around it to give it a gentle suck before planting a kiss. “Shit,” she heaves, trying to keep from being too loud. It’s not lost on her that too much noise will get them caught. But god is her rock shaking at the feeling of Calum’s tongue working at her. It’s going to be the end of her, she thinks, staring up at the ceiling attempting to keep her breathing under control.
Calum feels her thighs starting to shake and he throws them over his shoulder. She falls deeper into her recline. Every lewd slurp echoes. The first finger into her is all too easy to get inside and he works the second one in while teasing her clit with his tongue. It’s a moment, with a breathy instruction of “Back and up,” before he’s brushing over her g-spot. Her vision spots for a moment and she presses her lips together to swallow down her own moan.
“Fuck,” she whines when Calum sucks at her clit. The knot in her stomach grows, she can feel the heat radiating from the top of her head to her toes. She’s going to make a mess. She can feel it bubbling in her lower stomach but she can’t find the words to warn him as she works to keep her cries in her chest.
It’s evident though when she finds the edge and falls over it. Her legs close in around Calum’s head. He works her through the orgasm, gentle licks. Calum kisses over her inner thighs before pulling his fingers from her. She’s spent above him, panting. But she stops him-- a hand tight around his wrist and brings his fingers to her mouth.
“You wouldn’t?”
Noa says nothing before licking her own arousal from his fingers. Calum shouldn’t be so turned on by her tasting herself but he swears he could nearly come from just the way she hums around his digits. It makes him wonder for a moment what else she can do with that tongue. She grins when she releases his fingers from her mouth with a lewd pop. “I would.”
Calum stays on his knees, watching carefully as she slips off the table and back into her underwear and shorts. She taps at the chair. “Take a seat.”
He pushes up and into the chair. “You really could’ve just left those off.”
Noa bites her lip at the thought. “Even though I’m young, I’m not dumb. I never re-upped on condoms in my backpack and unless you have some. I think you’ll be pleased with my compromise.”
Calum mimes zipping his lips shut and tossing away the key. He nearly forgot about that and that’s not a risk he wants to take either. No matter much the idea seems tempting he knows that the potential consequences are not worth it. Noa doesn’t waste any time, to tie her hair back or get Calum’s pants and underwear down either. She’s not really sure what she expected but he’s more than he lets on and her mouth drools at the thought.
She kisses his tip, the tip leaking just a little. Calum sighs, dropping his head back on his neck. He doesn’t really want her to tease him like this. But it does feel good. How gentle she’s being. The way she’s slow to coat him with her saliva. He exhales harshly when he slips into her mouth and when she doesn’t stop but continues on Calum groans. “Fucking hell.” It’s as if she could just swallow him whole and her mouth is so warm too.
Noa hums a little at the taste and weight of him. She looks at through her lashes and keeps her eyes nice and big, playing innocent at the way Calum huffs above her. He blinks his eyes just enough to see her batting her lashes and he’s so tempted again to pull out of her mouth and just fuck her right here. He’s sure her pussy is just as good as her mouth, if not better. Another moan is crawling up his chest and Calum inhales to keep it from falling over his lips. She pulls back from him, swirling her tongue just around the top. Her fist pumps at him. Calum knows he won’t last. His head is starting to float and he’s reaching out for anything and everything to keep ground.
He finds Noa instead, the very thing lifting his consciousness from his body. But it’s all he has to attempt to ground him. Calum lets one choked moan fall over his lips. “God,” he heaves like he’s been underwater for too long and is getting the first gulps of air again. His eyes screw up as she takes him back down and bobs her head along his length. The sounds of her slurping up her excess saliva are a little loud but he prays that they don’t echo too much before he cums.
That’s all he wants. Just release. That bliss of orgasm. His toes are curling and he’s holding a little tighter to Noa he knows. But he can’t help it. His hips raise up from the seat, bucking into her and she has to readjust her angle to keep him down. But Calum’s so fucking close. He can feel it. His thighs are tensing and he’s nearly in tears with how badly he desires to cum. She’s toying with him, speeding up to build up that pressure--that need, but slowing down just enough to keep it far enough away.
“Oh, please, please,” he begs. There is definitely a prickle of tears. Noa knows she’s playing with fire but she pulls back one last time, watching the way his jaw tense and he hisses, the air sucked in between his teeth. “I wasn’t-I wasn't this mean to you.”
Noa winks at him. Calum knows he’s going to have to do something to wipe that smirk off her face somehow. “Wanted to see how much you could take.” She says nothing else and finally takes him back into her mouth, hand and mouth pumping at him. He goes barreling towards his orgasm. He halfway expects her to pull away again when he finds his hips bucking again but she doesn’t. Calum holds her head tight and pours down the back of her throat.
Noa brings him over the edge and she’s gentle, slightly suckling to get down every drop. When she finally brings her head away, she does leave a small kiss. The air is thick and Calum exhales, attempting to bring his vision back into focus. He nearly has to make sure that it’s actually his soul that comes back to him. Noa hands him a tissue and then excuses herself for just a moment to the restroom.
When she returns, the table is clearned for the most part. Her books are neatly stacked and her laptop is sitting on top of the sleeve. The dry erase markers and erasers sit at the top of her pile too. Calum is dressed again, leaning against the table with the bucket hat back on his head. He watches her open the door with a tiny smile. The whiteboard’s been erased too. “Did you get a picture of the--” Calum nods before she finishes the full question.
She’s not sure if she should move from the spot at the door but Calum’s gaze is intense so she waits. “I’m not going to bite unless you ask for it,” he grins. “How far away do you stay from here?”
“I live on campus actually. It’s like a fifteen minute walk to the other side.”
“I’m parked not too far from the English building. How about a ride and a round two?”
“For studying poetry or anatomy?” There’s no hiding her grin as she asks the question.
Calum’s impressed at the wit. “I would say, after what I’ve seen and tasted today, I would call it poetry.”
She has to cast her gaze down. Because if not, she’s going to explode at delivery of the compliment. “Just don’t make any joke about tasting desire twice or I might nickname you Frost and I don’t think you’d appreciate that.”
Calum laughs and reaches out a hand. She takes it, stepping into him. She gazes up, the shadow of the bucket hat making the moment seem more private. “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Of course you are.”
The ride over is nerve wrecking. But the gentle pressure of Calum’s hand on her thigh keeps her just enough on the string that it doesn’t matter. Brooklyn agrees to give her the room until 10. It’s a little after six currently. Plenty of time but still. It’s not fun being sexiled. Noa makes a mental note to grab a few snacks on her next grocery run as a thank you to Brooklyn. The AC blasting in Calum’s car is Noa’s saving grace. The slight chill is welcomed to the warmth still radiating from her body.
She directs him to turn right at the next intersection. “It’s pretty out here,” Calum notes. The buildings follow the same brick patterns as most other buildings on the campus. But there are some trees that stand tall and it feels a little cozy. Noa hums and she directs him down to a parking lot. It’s not that far down from her actual dorm. The walk feels longer though for Noa, feeling Calum right behind her. Calum follows with quick glances the way her ass shakes a little with her gait. The shorts are definitely higher than they were before and he’s sure that was done purposefully.
Noa fishes out her keys and swipes into the building before directing Calum up the flight of stairs on the side. Their shoes echo as they ascend. Her room is the first one once they step outside from the stairwell. “I apologize now if it’s a mess,” Noa says with her key in the door. She’s praying that Brooklyn’s side isn’t a disaster.
Thankfully at the first crack, the room is cool and clean. She carries past one bed to the second pushed against the wall near the window. Calum notes the white and black comforter and the posters decorating her wall. There are string lights and after a moment they twinkle off the white plaster of the walls.
“Putting on the full works, huh?” Calum drops his hat and bag next to her desk. They shed shoes. Her bed is raised so she pulls out a step stool.
“Something like that.”
Calum cups her jaw. “I’m flattered.” Their kisses are still heated but less desperate. Both of them are aware of what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Calum pulls at the knot of her white shirt and pushes it off her shoulders. Maybe it was a little insane. Maybe it was the fact that Calum was a little tired of being lonely on Valentine’s Day even though he hated the whole institution of the holiday.
Whatever it was that brought him here to peeling Noa out of her shirt and revealing her breasts to him didn’t really matter. Because he was okay with it. He cups one of her breasts, teasing the bud with his fingers and he kisses along her neck. He feels her heart races with his tongue. “Love it don’t you?”
Noa hums, pulling around his shoulders. “Maybe.”
He laughs into her skin. She climbs up onto the bed first and Calum sheds his shirt before climbing up behind her. On the corner of her desk near the bed, he spies the box of condoms. Multiple boxes actually. He reaches over her to one of them. He’s going to drag this out just to have her begging like she did with him. “This is quite the collection.”
Noa knows part of this is payback but she reaches up running her hands over his sides to get him to come back to her. Calum resists the temptation to look down and kiss her again. If she does all his resolve will break. He studies another box and she lifts her head from her pillow finding one of his nipples and sucking it into her mouth. Two can play this game. And Noa knows that while she’s aching for me, she might have a better chance of riding this game out than Calum.
Calum drops his head for a moment, letting the electricity of her touch travel up his body. One hand creeps up to his crotch, putting just enough pressure onto his growing erection. He’s so fucking screwed. Noa kisses across his chest, soft ones that barely make contact with his skin. “I’m going to be giving a pop quiz about the varieties I have. So study up,” she jokes before pulling her hand away.
His laughter is soft above her. “I won’t be won over by academic pickup lines.”
“You were being stubborn and I had to try something.”
“You teased me. Don’t dish out what you can’t handle.”
“I can handle plenty,” she retorts pushing at his shoulder.
Calum straddles her lower legs, popping the button on her shorts yet again. “Is that so?” The question is punctuated by him pulling her shorts and panties off. His fingers waste no time to part her and circle her entrance. Her back sinks into the mattress and her hips rise. Calum catches the small hard exhale of all her air leaving her lungs.
Calum hovers over her, one arm keeping his weight steady while he teases her. His lips brush over her jaw. “What was that?” His question is answered by a moan that falls over Noa’s throat. He kisses down her throat, sucking just a hair too hard at the thin skin. It doesn’t leave a bruise but when Calum pulls way, there’s a red spot for sure on her skin.
Noa lets herself be consumed by the way his stubble scratches over her skin. Calum kisses down the valley of her breasts. His teeth graze over her nipples. Maybe he’s better at the game than she thought he was. She liked to think she was tough, but Noa knows deep down the softest touch can turn her into putty. She doesn’t find it within herself to care when he flicks her nipple with the tip of her tongue.
Calum drinks in every sound. She sounds so good beneath him at the mercy of his whims. Though he knows he’s going to give in soon. Soon his own tough act will dissolve and all he’s want is her to be thoroughly fucked. Calum carries down her body, kissing over her stomach before finding her heat again. All it takes is one lick, bottom to the top and Noa shakes, her thighs quiver and Calum knows he has her.
Her hands find his neck though. She pulls him up before pushing up and Calum falls into the mattress. She works his pants down and kisses over his thighs as she goes. Her teeth are sharp when she takes a bite, nothing too hard, but it’s enough. It’s enough for Calum to know she’s serious. He’s serious too. His arm hooks around her neck once the pants are fully disrobed. “Come here,” he murmurs and she settles on his lower torso.
Noa could lose herself in Calum’s kisses and never want to find a map out. Calum traces at her skin with the tips of his fingers as if trying to etch the roadmap of her into his memory. Noa reaches behind and strokes Calum’s length, almost too leisurely, like she knows she can just take her time with him. He lets her too. What else does he have to lose? What else does Calum have to do on such a bullshit holiday than just having some fun?
He does enjoy that this isn’t rushed. He’s also glad he’s not tipsy and neither is she. There’s something about alcohol and sex that never quite worked for Calum, though he’ll admit to some days waking with hickeys and blaming the vodka almost immediately. He likes the intimacy that they share, as crazy as it sounds. Like the way Noa looks at him after they break away from a kiss. She doesn’t look crazed or greedy, her eyes cradle him almost. She traces over his tattoos.
The questions linger on her lips. Like what does ‘Choose Life’ really mean to Calum? Who was Mali? To whom did those initials belong too? But Noa knew those were questions she couldn’t ask. And she kind of liked the mystery of it. She liked knowing Calum but not getting the full picture. She had the frame. She has the beautiful man in front of her but she didn’t have his mind. She saw bits of it in class for sure. When he finally decided to speak. But that was a piece that would always linger behind the curtain.
It was still a game for sure. Calum giving away what he wanted to give of himself but keeping everything else. Noa knew better than to think she could win that game. She knew better than to assume she could even be a player. It seemed cliche to think that maybe just maybe she could be the one to change that. That had to be loneliness talking though. It always crept in on days like this. At least for the moment, she was having her own fun.
Her own fun--that’s all she needs to focus on right now. Noa reaches across Calum’s body to her desk and he uses the moment to bring the nipple and even part of her tit into his mouth, to tease her for just a moment longer. She barely keeps her grip on the box of condoms at the shiver running through her body. “Fuck,” she breathes.
Calum hums at the praise and pinches her right nipple between his fingers. “You know,” he starts, tracing the swell of her breast with his fingers. “You do this thing when you’re thinking, where you bit the inside of your lip and you kind of zone out.”
Why is Calum so fucking observant? Why did he have to go and say that? He was really digging her grave. He might as well go and build the casket for her too. “I’m not backing out of this.”
“I was just saying,” he hums.
“When you’re thinking you tend to play with whatever is in your hands,” Noa returns and then glances down her nipple, the way his fingers roll it and pinch. A moan builds in her chest--she can feel it. Calum immediately pulls his hand away. “I never said I didn’t like it.”
The grin that takes over his face is shy. Noa kisses his nose before tearing a condom from it’s foiled package. “How about a ride?” she grins.
Calum has to laugh at the smirk and corny joke. But he agrees. “I hope I’m tall enough for it.”
“More than tall enough,” she laughs, rolling the condom done him. It’s the first sink, the stretch that makes Noa’s eyes nearly roll back into her head. Calum finds her hips, exhaling hard too at the squeeze and warmth of her.
“Fuck,” they both exhale. Her pace is slow to start but Calum brushes everything inside of her, even parts that she didn’t even know could be brushed. It’s a little painful but the adjustment happens and all Noa’s concerned with is watching Calum fall apart beneath her. His fingers curl into the fat and muscle of her hips and thighs.
The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo about the room and Noa releases the hiss, the only thing she can do at the feeling of Calum buried so deep inside of her. It’s true bliss when her pace picks up and Calum watches her tits bounce in time. “Fuck, just like that,” he encourages.
It’s not easy work Noa will admit but it’s rewarding to hear how strained Calum’s voice is. How much he’s tittering closer and closer to the edge. Calum brings his fingers to her clit and her yelp, part surprise, part an exhalation of arousal, he hums. “That what you needed? Just a little attention for a greedy clit?”
Noa sighs, holding herself upon his chest. “But you like it, don’t you? You’re coming to cum for me and my greedy clit, aren’t you?”
He is. Not right now, but soon. It’s creeping up on him and god, will it be sweet. He brings her head down to kiss her, to swallow down every filthy sound she makes and save it for later in his chest. Calum plants his feet into the mattress and meets her bounces with his own thrust. “Oh, shit,” she whines, her voice straining at the added sensation. Time starts to lose its grip. They are just feeling bodies.
It’s soon her face down into the mattress though, curling the sheets into her fist as Calum drives into her. “God, please,” she groans, feeling the twinge of her orgasm knotting at her lower stomach.
Calum brings her up, her back into his chest with a hand tucked around her throat. It’s not tight and soon it drops to her nipples again. “Tell me what you need.”
“Just you,” she exhales. “Just you, Calum.”
His fingers dance over her sex. She clenches once, a sign of the impending orgasm that will be crashing over it. Calum kisses along her shoulders and across her back, the twists in the way don’t even matter. Not when he can feel her occasional spasms. He’s not going to last much longer. But he wants to get her there first. With a little more pressure at her clit, Noa grabs Calum's thigh. Another whine falls over her throat and she again lacks the warning.
She cums with a heavy grunt scratching over her throat. Calum bites down onto her shoulder. His orgasm follows soon after thanks to her spasms. After they clean up, she falls into her sheets and Calum lays for just a minute. Just to catch his breath and he traces over the still red marks of his teeth. “Is it too much if I offer to buy pizza?” Noa asks, curled up into his chest. “Does seal the fate on Valentine’s Day as well when you’re single?”
Calum laughs. “It’s definitely sealed the fate on many of them for me in the past. But I should probably get home. Be an adult, even if I don’t want to be.”
Noa nods. It’s a little awkward when Calum has to crawl over her to climb down off the bed but all she does is giggle before kissing his cheek. Calum finds his shirt and she tosses him his underwear from the sheets. “I should write a personal note to Calvin Klein for that underwear. Your ass is ten out ten in those.
Calum shakes his head, his laughter loud. “And out of them?”
“Seven out of ten.”
“I should be offended.”
Noa shrugs, holding the sheets to her chest. “Alas, you don’t seem to be though.”
With the bucket hat situated back over his head, Calum shrugs. “Guess I’m not if it’s coming from you. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
She nods. “Sure.” Calum’s hand doesn’t quite reach the door before she calls out her next question. “You remember how to get out of here right?”
“Something tells me it’s like the same way I came in? But I’m not too sure.”
“Smartass,” she grumbles.
Calum chews on his lip for a moment to hide the smile. He was worried him leaving would be awkward. But he finds himself not wanting to go really. He thinks he could split a pizza with her. What would be the worst that would happen? But he doesn’t want to push any more boundaries or piss off her roommate.“Bye, Noa.”
“Bye, Calum.”
***********
Now Noa is definitely worried after not seeing Calum on Monday that he freaked out about their hookup. She didn’t have his number and emailing him was out of the question. Emailing wasn’t the format to have the ‘what-happened-and-why-are-you-avoiding-me’ conversation. Everything seemed fine when Calum left. He even sent a thank you email when she sent him the notes she typed up from their study session. He had included the blowing a kiss emoji. That had to mean something. It had to. Even Brooklyn said it meant something. Sure Brooklyn was no expert. But who sends that kind of emoji unless they mean something behind it?
Though when Monday rolled around, Calum wasn’t to be seen. Today was Wednesday, the day of their midterm. Noa books it from her class in the science building but because of some rain, there is a mud spot and she slips. She doesn’t fall, thankfully catching herself on the edge of the brick wall but she knows the feeling of her pants splitting literally anywhere.
Her shirt is most definitely not long enough to cover it and she can’t be late for the exam. So she carries on, wishing she had grabbed an extra layer to help save her from the embarrassment. First Calum ghosts her and now her pants rip. Today’s really not her day. Not that she needed it to be her day, but she would’ve liked it.
Taking a quick moment to assess the damage, Noa feels behind. The hole is mostly towards her inner thighs but it does gape a little to the back and she’s mortified that half her ass is hanging out. She hopes this is the icing on her cake. She’d really rather not have too much else to her shit cake. This was more than enough shit for any one particular day.
Just a few minutes before class starts, she opens the door to the classroom. The professor stands at the podium, exam in hand. Her eyes scan the room briefly and there’s Calum. His head down and she’s sure that he had to have heard the door opening but he doesn’t look up. There’s nowhere else to sit either, except for her spot right next to him. And she’s not going to cause a scene on midterm day either.
She’s careful as she sits, to avoid further splitting, and slips off her backpack. She keeps her back turned and fishes out a pen, black ink this time. Just as she faces forward, a Hershey’s kiss and peppermint are placed in front of her. Calum grins, pulling the wireless headphones from his ears. “My mum used to give me peppermints before a test. She said it was supposed to help. I don’t know the exact science.”
Maybe Calum didn’t hate her? It definitely is a shock for him to be talking so casually. She’s happy though. She’d rather not have to shun Calum. She liked his stupid ass jokes and maybe, just maybe, she was letting herself get a little too close. That was a disaster she’d deal with later though. “Were you sick on Monday or something?” Something was going around and if Calum had caught it, she did worry that she would too,
He shakes his head. “A gig ran late Sunday. I just emailed my professors that I wouldn’t be able to come in on Monday. I realized I needed the notes from Monday but I didn’t want it to seem like I was just using you. So I’m sorry about you not hearing from me after I said I would.”
Noa reaches into her backpack and pulls out a small bag of peppermints. There was just a misunderstanding. She can handle that. “My mom used to say the same thing.” She situates the bag between them. “In case you need another one during the exam. Also, I can give you my number.” She finds a scrap piece of paper and writes it down. Calum saves it fast and sends her a text too so she has his number.
As the professor starts to hand out the exam, only a list of four questions of which they’ll pick two to respond too, Calum feels the slight jitters coming back. Noa notices and slides her piece of chocolate over to him. They lock gazes for a brief moment and smile, both reminded of the last time chocolate was involved.
The questions aren’t too hard. The practice ones Noa came up with fall right in line with what she said the professor would ask. She finishes first between the two of them and leaves the bag of peppermints. Calum notices her awkward shuffle and the hole in her jeans. He can’t use his phone to tell her to wait up but he’s almost done himself. So he scribbles down the last few sentences for his question and quickly gathers his things.
From the pocket of his backpack, he feels his phone vibrate. He hands over his exam and slips out of the front door. Noa’s not in sight so he digs out his phone, stepping out into the bright sunlight. She’s not even halfway down the path, stopped by someone else as they chat for a moment. He thinks it’s her roommate, she looks familiar and the two laugh before going their separate ways.
“Noa,” Calum calls out to her and she turns. These stairs aren’t as steep and he’s quick to get down them. Calum reaches into his backpack, revealing a sweatshirt and hands over her bag peppermints. “You can use this until you get back to get new pants.”
“I have a meeting with my advisor and then a club meeting. I was just going to tell them I’ll be a few minutes late to our meeting.”
“No, no, keep it. It’s okay. I don’t want you to be late.”
“I won’t be able to get it back to you until Friday.”
“I could come to pick it up too before then?”
Noa knows that look, the glint in his eyes as she ties the sweatshirt around her waist. “My last class tomorrow ends at 2.”
“I’ll pick you up from class. Just text me the building. We can study. I heard it’s Valentine’s Day.
“That’s about a week late.”
“I was always bad at math,” Calum jokes. “You think I should sign up for one next semester?” Noa laughs as she steps backward from Calum. Of course, he would make another joke. They get her every time too. “Is that a yes though?”
“That is a yes. To Thursday and to you needing a math class.”
“Ouch.” He holds a hand to his chest, faking pain.
She twirls before throwing a wave over her shoulder. “Bye, Calum.”
“Bye, Noa.” He wipes out his phone, watching her walk down the bricked over paths. Next time you don’t have to split your pants to get my attention.
She stops and spins around, fingers flying over the keys. I can and will take this hoodie hostage.
“That’s my favorite hoodie,” he shouts at her.
“Not my problem, sweetheart.”
“It absolutely is your problem.”
“My problem is that I’m going to be late.”
___________
Tagging: @irwinkitten @5-secondsofcolor @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @glitterlukey
#calum hood#calum hood fanfic#calum hood fic#calum hood fluff#calum hood smut#calum hood x black oc#calum 5sos#5sos#5 seconds of summer#5sos fanfic#5sso fic#5sos imagine#calum hood imagine#5 seconds of summer fanfic#5 seconds of summer fic#luke hemmings#ashton irwin#michael clifford#valentine's day fic#h writes
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With Time: Chapter 5 - 2 Truths, 1 Lie, and Many Puns
Author’s Note: Hot off the presses! I typically have these finished a day or two before I post them to give me ample time to edit them, but I've had a busy last few days. I wanted to get this chapter done though so that I can get to the next one, so I powered through it. This is one of the longer ones (page-wise) though it's got a lot of dialogue (which isn't my strong suit).
Finally got them all posted.
Chapter summary: The Quantic kids and Adrien get to know each other.
First | Previous | Next
There is an awkward silence for a second. Those at the couch were not expecting Marinette’s reappearance and are not about to tell her what they had just been discussing.
Claude, ever the actor, is the first to recover, “We were about to get to know each other! All we know is each other’s names and that we all are friends with you! Do you have any ideas on games for that ‘Nette?”
Marinette pauses, thinking, “Um… I guess… Two truths one lie? Or never have I ever? Are those okay?”
“Ooh! I haven’t played those in a while! Okay, we all know how to do those right? We’ll start with two truths one lie, then we can move on to never have I ever. Does anyone have anything to add or that they’re worried about?” The group glances around at each other Allegra shakes her head slightly, but Adrien cautiously raises his hand.
Marinette notices, “Adrien?”
“I’ve never heard of either of those before. What are the rules? How long do they take?”
There is a shocked silence from the group, but Marinette just sighs,”Right, okay. Um, I can explain them. But, um, do you guys want to head to my room first?” With everyone looking at her now, she panics, backtracking, “Not that we have to! Of course! I just, um-”
“Sure thing, ‘Nette.” Allan offers her a calm smile, and everyone nods, standing to follow her into her room.
Marinette goes first, holding the trapdoor open. Adrien is next, plopping down nearby on her case. As the others entered, she grew anxious, she liked her room, but they probably thought it was dumb, so pink and probably very immature looking, they would hate it, they would hate he-
“Ooooooh! I love your room Marinette!” Claude sounds as excited as ever. He and the others are looking around her room.
“I like it!” Allegra declares. She gestures toward the chaise, “Can I sit here?”
Marinette nods, and Allegra sits on one end of the chaise, Allan sits at the other end, cross-legged.
Felix sits, leaning against the side of the ladder leading to her bed, “It is certainly befitting of you.”
As Marinette sits against the case that Adrien is on she says, “Thanks. I’m glad you guys like it.”
Wheeling her desk chair to move it closer to his friends, Claude says, “Like it? I love it!” As if to emphasize his point, he spins in the chair, throwing his arms in the air.
“So, uh, how do we play these games?”
“We can explain them as we go. We’re starting with two truths and a lie, right?” Marinette pauses, double-checking.
“Yep!” Claude is slowing now, looking faintly dizzy.
“Okay, so, um, it’s pretty straight-forward. We take turns listing three things. Two truths, one lie, and everyone has to try to guess the lie.”
Adrien nods. “Okay, that makes sense. Who’s going first?”
“I can.” Allegra raises her hand slightly, then pauses, thinking, “Um, let’s see… I play the flute, I have 3 siblings and I do calligraphy.
Claude excitedly opens his mouth to answer, but she raises her hand, cutting him off, “Nope, sorry Claude, but I think Adrien should answer first, then Marinette, then the rest of you. We’ve known each other longer and these are pretty simple starter ones. You’ll all know the answers.”
Claude gives an exaggerated ‘harumph’, but turns to Adrien, who is thinking.
“Umm, I think the lie is… the calligraphy?”
Without a word, Allegra turns to Marinette, who is considering all of the statements. She knows the first one is undoubtedly true, as for the second and third… she isn’t as sure. Calligraphy is pretty specific, so that could go either way. Siblings… she knows Claude has three siblings, but Allegra only has two little brothers - at least to her knowledge, so, “Is it the, um, siblings?”
“Yep!” Claude and Allegra say in unison. She turns to him and he shrugs sheepishly, “Sorry ‘llegra. I just got excited.” She rolls her eyes.
“I have only two siblings, little brothers.”
Felix speaks up, “Perhaps to even this out, we should alternate between Adrien and Marinette having turns, and one of the four of us having turns. Otherwise there will be several rounds where many people know the answer.”
“Alright! I can go next.” Adrien thinks, “Okay. I play Ultimate Mecha Strike III, I take fencing, and do fashion design.”
“Fencing.”
“Ulimate Mecha Strike III”
“Fencing?”
“...you don’t do fashion design” Claude is the last to answer, but he seems the most certain of all of them.
Adrien nods, grinning, “Yep! As Mari here will be quick to tell you, I know nothing about designing clothing.”
“He really doesn’t”
If the others thought it odd that the heir to Gabriel Agreste’s company knew nothing about fashion design, they kept it to themselves. After a brief pause, Allan spoke up,”Let’s see… I bake, I have a little sister, and listen to Jagged Stone.”
“Is it the little sister?”
Marinette is pretty certain about Allan’s lie. She knows he has a little sister - she’s seen pictures - and is well aware that Allan is just as big a Jagged fan as Adrien as herself, so that leaves only one option. “I’m pretty sure you don’t bake… right?”
Allan nods, “Mhm. Pretty sure you’re the only baker here, ‘Nette.”
Claude claps his hands together excitedly, “Marinette’s turn!” Everyone turns to her.
“Oh!” Right. It was her turn now. Should she try to stump them? It could be fun to reach out to her more far-fetched interests, and come up with a more complex li- no. She would keep it simple. Her lies didn’t need to be big, only what was necessary. “Um… I knit, I love hamsters, and I’m a terrible runner.”
It’s part of the game. Why do I feel bad about lying to them? It wasn’t like she was lying for the same reasons as Lila did, but the guilt still burned through her, a familiar feeling from all the excuses she made for her alter-ego.
“I think it’s the last one!” Claude is the first to speak, drawing her back.
“I’m with him.” Allan jerks his thumb at Claude, and Felix nods.
“Same here. I mean, have you seen her when she’s running late? She looks like she’s an aspiring olympian!”
Adrien laughs, “It is impressive.”
Marinette nods, and Claude cheers before turning to Felix, “Felix! Your turn!”
“Alright. I do calligraphy, I have a dog, and I enjoy poetry.”
“You don’t have a dog do you?”
Marinette nods in agreement, Felix does not have a dog- to her knowledge.
“Indeed. However, I do have a cat, his name is Pluto.”
“ Felix , that was so easy .” Claude whined, “You gotta’ challenge him! I’ll go next, because I haven’t gone yet, and I shall be challenging!”
Allan raised an eyebrow at him, and Claude concedes, “Okay, not that challenging. Here we go! I am a thespian, I have a golden retriever, and I do origami.”
This was easy - for Marinette at least- Adrien, on the other hand, “Uhh, definitely not the first one… the origami?” He didn’t seem certain.
“Nope! I lamentably lack a pupper pal in my life. It’s tragic .”
Allan and Felix both give him a look. The latter says, “Claude. You do not have space for a dog. Not only that, but your father is allergic.”
“But it’s so ruff without a doggo in my life.”
After the proper groans and eyerolls from most of the group, Claude shouted, “Speed round! Allegra go!”
“What?”
“List three things, quick go! Then Adrien will guess, you’ll correct him if necessary, then we move on in the same order, going as fast as we can! Speed bonding! Go!”
“Alright, fine. Bullet journaling, I used to do gymnastics, and ballet when I was little.”
“Ballet!”
“Nope, gymnastics, your turn.”
“Um, I understand Morse code, I speak chinese, and I play the violin.”
“...Morse code?” Allegra is cautious, Allan nods in agreement, and after a moment so does Felix.
Claude on the other hand, confidently declares,”You don’t play the violin!”
“Yep! I do piano.”
“Okay, so it’s my turn now?” Allan speaks,“Well lets see, I’ve got a goldfish, I cook, and I cosplay.”
“Goldfish?”
“Nah, I don’t cosplay, that’s more Claude’s thing, if any of us.” The boy in question grins.
“Okay, um, my turn now?” Marinette thinks, “I have a fear of wasps, I do embroidery, and I love horror movies.”
She seems to have managed to stump most of them, except for Adrien who, after spending a good amount of time with her over the summer, knows the red herring. Claude seems fairly confident, but again waits for the others, who agree on the wasps being the lie.
“I disagree with my friends here, I believe the lie to be the horror movies!” Claude is once again correct and does a victory spin in his chair at Marinette’s nod.
“So, wasps, huh? Get a scare when you were little or sumthin’?”
Marinette hesitates at Allan’s question. What is she supposed to tell him, that her magical earrings make her feel like the wasps are going to eat her? As if . She feels the guilt bubble up again as she lies, “Yeah, uh, something like that.”
“Felix go! Remember, this is a speed round!”
“Hmm. Okay, I know the meaning of many common flowers, I prefer nonfiction books, and I am an only child.”
“The flowers?” At Adrien’s incorrect response, Felix gives a small smile.
“Actually, I prefer fiction books.”
“Aaaaaand now it’s my turn! Okay! I have two brothers, I am the youngest and I know the passwords of two other people’s phones in this room.”
For whatever reason, Allegra groans at that. Adrien seems to miss that, as he says,”the passwords?”
“Nope! I have two sisters, and one brother.”
The game continues for a few more rounds, Adrien and Marinette can’t help but notice that Claude gets every one right. Finally, Adrien caves,”Claude, how are you so good at this?”
Claude smiles mischievously,”I have become very good at reading people. Facial expressions are a good thing to be familiar with - especially when you can’t speak.” at Adrien’s confused look he adds, “I act, but I also do a lot of miming.”
Eventually, the game ends when Adrien says,“I have never told a bad pun, I can speak Japanese, and I’m a morning person.
“Adrien.” Marinette said flatly, “You’re only supposed to tell one lie.”
“I did.”
“I believe him Mari. There is no such thing as a bad pun!”
Marinette shakes her head, “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“We’ll just have to prove it to her then! Guys, I’m putting the game on hold, Adrien and I must do a pun-off! Dad jokes are acceptable as well.”
“I like the sound of that!”
Other than Adrien and Claude, only Allan seems to be enjoying this. The other three are rolling their eyes and groaning in preparation for what’s about to happen.
“The new clock was the tock of the town.”
“What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh!”
“Lumber companies have many board meetings!”
“Shepards are sheepish people who don’t like staff meetings!”
“What do you call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!”
“Hey, do you know why a nose can’t be 12 inches long
“No, I do not. Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”
“Because then it would be a foot!”
“Of course! Hey, I decided to sell my vacuum cleaner - it was just gathering dust.”
“What do you call an elephant that doesn’t matter? An irrelephant.”
“What do you call a pampered cow? Spoiled milk!”
“The first carpenter to sail around the world took his screw with him.”
“A comedian stopped at a fabric store on his way to a gig - he was looking for new material!”
“If I had a nickel for every bread pun, I'd have a pun per nickel.”
“Some puns are so corny they hurt your ear.”
“Seven days without a pun makes one weak.”
“Wanna’ hear a joke about paper? Nevermind - it’s tearable.”
Claude holds up a broken pencil from Marinette’s desk, “Hey, Adrien, want to borrow a pencil?” He glances at it,”Nevermind, it’s pointless.”
This is the last straw. Marinette starts laughing, at first she tries to cover it up, but is unsuccessful - her glee overtaking her. Adrien looks over to her in surprise, then his face softens and he laughs with her.
Allegra smiles,”Felix, I think we’re the only ones here with a normal sense of humor.”
“Indeed”
Claude looks delighted, in between his own laughter he throws his arms in the air and proclaims, “I have won the pun-off!”
Marinette’s laughter eventually dies down, but a trace of a smile remains on her face as she asks, “Okay, what’s next? Do we want to continue ‘Two Truths One Lie’, or do we want to move on to ‘Never Have I Ever’? Or, um, if you guys wanted to do something else…?”
“‘Never Have I Ever’ works for me!”
“Alright.” Marinette turns to Adrien, “So, um, there’s a few ways to play this one? It can vary depending on who you ask? But I don’t know what rules you guys play by…?”
“I do not recall when I last played this game, however, considering our purpose is to get to know each other, we could simply move in a circle and list things we have never done before.”
“And then! If you have done it we can hear your cool story!” Claude excitedly adds onto Felix’s suggestion. “I’ll start! Never have I ever… been outside of France.”
“Really?”
“Yep! Never left!”
“Well it looks like you’re the only one Claude…” Allegra comments, “I’ve been to England.”
“As have I.” Felix adds.
“I’ve got family in Canada.” Allan looks to Adrien and Marinette, “What about you two?”
“Uh, I’ve been to China a few times? For, um, family.”
“I’ve had photoshoots and fashion shows in other countries before, but Father has me there for work, so I never really get a chance to look around or explore.” he shrugs, “But I can typically see some landmarks, so it’s not all bad.”
“That sucks dude,” Allan looks at Adrien sympathetically, “Your Pops should really lighten up on ya’.” It’s such a Nino thing to say, Adrien and Marinette share a look that the others can’t quite decipher.
“Allegra, your turn!” Claude startles them out of their thoughts.
“Why me?”
“Because you were first in the last game, and we should probably follow the same order.” he shrugs.
“Right. Me then. Okay, never have I ever… had a cat.”
Marinette and Claude raise their hands in agreement. He pouts dramatically though, mumbling something about allergies. Adrien looks down at his overshirt in an annoyed manner, and Marinette hears something that sounds like ‘lag’.
“Uh, we live in a bakery, so pets are kind of a no go…”
“Obviously I have Pluto.” Felix hold up his phone, displaying an all black cat with green eyes.
“We had one when I was little.” Allan says, “I’ve only got some blurry memories.”
“Uhh, same here! It wasn’t very well behaved though… it also got into our cheese a lot .” Adrien says the last part as though directing it at someone in particular, the others were confused, as was Marinette. She wondered if Adrien was still mad at the cat about the whole cheese-stealing thing. In the time the two had really known each other, Adrien always seemed to have Camembert on him. Maybe it was a habit he formed to protect it from the cat. Strange, but whatever, she wouldn’t judge.
“Uh, anyways! Is it my turn?” At the others’ confirmations Adrien nodded, thinking, “Okay, so never have I ever been to an amusement park.”
“Really?!” Claude seems horrified, “Even our resident grump has been to an amusement park!” Felix rolls his eyes at the moniker.
“I take it I’m the only one then?”
“I’ve been to one, though not for a while because of-” Marinette cuts herself off, because again, she can’t just say ‘because I’m Ladybug’, adding a (hopefully) nonchalant shrug she continues, “it’s just been a while.”
The others are seemingly too distracted to question her slip-up, Allan questions Adrien first,”So why not? Ya’ not like heights or sumthin’?”
“Father says that I must maintain ‘a prestigious image’ at all times, and that amusement parks and their attractions ‘do not allow for me to adhere to such a standard’.”
“I don’t think I like your father…” Allegra has the same face she did when she saw Marinette’s bruise, and Marinette still hasn’t figured out what it means, having only seen it twice now. Is it bad? It looks bad, it probably means Marinette messed up, though she isn’t sure how she managed it this time around.
“It’s fine, I’m pretty used to it anyways-” he is cut off by Allan.
“That really doesn’t make it any better…”
Adrien laughs dryly,”You sound like Ni-” he cuts off abruptly, glancing at Marinette who has stiffened almost imperceptibly, he puts an arm on her shoulder gently, trying to draw her back. “-one of my other friends.” He says the last word like he isn’t sure of it.
The whole interaction was short, honestly rather quick, but certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the other four. They cataloged it in the back of their minds, they may discuss this later. They tried to keep track of things that seemed to upset Marinette. While they may not know quite what happened, they still didn’t want to upset her and did their best to avoid things they thought might… remind her of whatever it was.
The game moved on and they made it through several rounds before Claude says,”Never have I ever met Ladybug!”
Adrien immediately lights up, “I have! She’s so cool!” No one notices Marinette’s light blush at this. She’s heard Adrien rave about her alter-ego before, but compliments will always fluster her.
“So have I, or at least I’ve seen ‘er in person.” Allan’s comment surprises Marinette. “Happened to be around near the end of an attack.”
When did that happen? Did she honestly miss one of her few fri- one of the few people she knew at an akuma attack? She was supposed to protect them, not miss them! What kind of a hero was she?
“Lucky! I’ve never seen her except on the news and stuff.” Allegra interjects, and Felix nods in agreement.
“Same here.” Marinette shakes herself out her self-critiquing. At her comment Adrien looks confused.
“Yeah you have!” Now Marinette is confused… what? He continues,”Remember when A- Timebreaker? When there were two Ladybugs and two akumas?”
Oh. Huh, she’d forgotten that Marinette and Ladybug had both been spotted together before. Thank you Adrien for that, it could be handy for protecting her identity in the future.
“Oh… yeah, I forgot about that.”
“How do you forget meeting Ladybug? ” Claude seems appalled.
“Well, we didn’t really meet. Also, um, I like Chat Noir better.” It was only natural, he was the better hero after all. Paris only favored Ladybug for her ability to clean up the damage.
Adrien’s face lit up even more, but he didn’t add anything.
Claude nodded, satisfied, “True, he’s pretty cool.”
The group continued to discuss (or gush in some cases) the two main heroes. Suddenly, Adrien’s phone beeped, and after glancing at it, he sighed. Marinette knew that face.
“Sorry guys, I have to go. Father is having me practice extra piano for a musical competition that’s in April.”
Allegra frowned at this, her face seeming to begin to stray towards that expression, though her voice betrays nothing as she asks, “Concours d'arts musicaux?”
“That’s the one.”
“I hope to participate too. I wish you the best of luck.”
“You too!” Adrien leaves and everyone settles back into their spots.
“So what should we do now?” Claude is spinning in the chair again.
“Homework.” Felix and Allan speak in unison, and Claude groans dramatically, but nevertheless plops down on the floor to begin work. After an hour or two, Felix glances at his watch.
“It may be best if we head to our own homes now. It is rather late and we would not want to intrude.”
Allan frowned, “It’s not that la-” he glanced at the time,”Nevermind, we should be going.”
Marinette nods and helps them pack up their stuff. As they head outside, her parents stop them.
“Oh, Marinette, are your friends going home?” her Maman asks as she finishes ringing up a customer. At her daughter’s nod, the woman says, “Wait one moment dears.” She heads into the back.
She emerges with four bags presumably filled with various pastries. “For you.” She distributes the bags to Marinette’s new friends, “ Thank you.”
“Ma’am, this isn’t necessary, at least allow us to pay.” Allegra is the first to recover from the surprise, but Sabine isn’t having any of it.
“No payment is necessary. Especially for you four, and any friends of our daughter.”
“... Uh, well thank you.” Claude and the rest give various thanks to the woman, who shakes her head again.
“No. Thank you. ” She turns and goes back to tending to customers. Marinette walks the rest of them out, and they say their final goodbyes as they head in their respective directions.
Marinette headed back to her room and lays down on her bed. She and Tikki talk for a little bit, but Marinette is exhausted mentally - today was quite the day - and she wants a moment to just think. After about 10 minutes she’s about to get up when her phone goes off. Glancing at it she sighs.
Akuma Alert:
Type 1
Eiffel Tower
More information and updates available.
“Tikki, spots on!”
---
Author’s Note: For anyone that's wondering, "Concours d'arts musicaux" is French for "Competition of Musical Arts" (according to Google Traslate, I don't know French).Some of the puns probably make more sense for an American setting, forgive me.Next chapter we've got our first akuma attack - at least the first one that we actually see. It's pretty clear how Marinette has been dealing with (and how she was affected by) the whole incident, but how is Ladybug doing? That should be the focus of the next chapter (hopefully).
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#miraculous ladybug#transfer#with time#fanfic#chameleon#salt#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#quantic kids#ml felix#puns
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Update
Hi to anyone who still follows this blog!
I graduated from high school over a year ago and honestly forgot to update this blog at the time (Whoops). But I was going back through my tumblr blogs (my main and the few side blogs I have) and decides to jump back on this one for a brief moment to discuss my IB results and my life since high school.
So, let's get everyone's first question out of the way: I passed! I received my diploma, and few things are as satisfying as the first time I held the paper proof of my diploma. It was confirmation that all my hard work paid off and that thing's getting framed asap lol.
But let's backtrack. Exams. My senior year I tested in: History HL, Chinese AB, Philosophy HL, and English HL (Lang A). And since I'm pretty sure I didn't ever discuss my junior year exams, I'll talk briefly about them here: Math SL and Biology SL.
So let's begin with Math and Bio. I received a 5 in both. I was nervous for my math exam since test prep in class was not going well for me. I kept getting 3s on cumulative exams, which was difficult to see in the weeks leading up to the exam. For those of you who may not know (I didn't before my first exam), there is a short reading period when the exam starts where you cannot write anything. Just read. And I remember flipping through the exam booklet and finding that I had a good idea on how to go about solving most of the problems. For the problems I wasn't sure about, I at least had an idea on how to start them. Math is one of those exams where showing your work can get you partial points, and I highly recommend attempting each and every problem. Two points can make the difference between a 4 and a 5, which increases your chance of getting that diploma overall. Biology, however, was a breeze for me, if I'm honest. I am actually continuing my education as a bio major, since it was something that I pick up on quickly. I still spent a lot of time studying, though, since the human biology portion was not something I was as familiar with as my school combines the AP and IB bio students (due to there being very few of us IB kids) and the IBO places much emphasis on anatomy than AP does. For those who find biology a daunting class, I highly recommend teaching the concepts to a friend/classmate. Have your notes with you and reference them as need be. If you feel confident discussing the ideas, then you can explain the ideas on paper. While this won't help on the multiple choice as much, this will help you sweep up those points in the written sections.
Moving on to my senior year exams. I received 4s in Chinese and History, a 5 in English, and a 6 in Philosophy. I took Chinese as an Ab Initio course because I didn't take a language my first year of high school. My teacher had done her best to get me up to speed, but nothing was more sobering than opening up that exam booklet and finding that I didn't understand much on that first page (and reading is definitely my best skill in the language). And I still had 4 minutes and 30 seconds left of the reading period. So how did I manage that 4, you may ask? Well, page 2 wasn't nearly as terrifying. I did recognize some of the characters on the first page, so I used what I had to infer what the questions were asking. Before the exam, I spent my studying time to practice characters, which helped when writing my essay as it had brought to mind some characters I had nearly forgotten about (though, to my horror, I found that I had repeatedly wrote a character wrong in my essay, but not terribly so, so I hope it wasn't a huge issues lol).
History was interesting. I was honestly shocked to see that I had only gotten a 4, since I received a 6 or 7 on every exam in class. But, I'll chalk that up to either my teacher having been a gracious grader or the prompts not being in my favour. (Not to mention that one of the days was the same day we tested in English, so writing was miserable after 6-7 hours- I swear I have carpal tunnel or something due to it since I still have mysterious wrist pain to this day from activities that never bothered me before like bowling). I wish I had some advice for how to get through history, but I'm not quite sure what I should have done differently to prepare.
Alright, English. I have to say, I am most proud of my IOC (though, I hear they're altering that aspect of the curriculum). We had rehearsed examples often in class, and I was lucky enough to have gotten a passage from the reading I loved the most and unpacked well. However, what benefitted myself, and my class overall, was that my teacher had selected books that were enjoyable to read and had clear themes to exploit in my essays. Thorough discussions in class allowed us to add to our notes, and soon my books were covered in writing in the margins. So, my best advice of this class is to turn it into book club. Get together with your friends, share your thoughts, and add on to other's. It may give you the idea you need to connect them together and write about in your exam.
Finally, philosophy. I actually had the same teacher for philosophy as I had for English. First things first, don't do what I did and finish your independent reading less than a half an hour before the exam. Though it was fresh in my mind, I probably shouldn't have procrastinated as much as I did. I read the prescribed chapters from Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex. 10/10 would recommend. I am a huge fan of existentialism (shout out to Albert Camus), so I found the concepts easy to navigate. If you're not a fan of existentialism, don't pick this book, by all means. For the rest of the exam, I highly recommend making a chart of philosophers and what they theorized. Use anybody and everybody's ideas as evidence or counterarguments in your essays. Having a good idea of how these philosophers used their claims helps you immensely. I would also recommend that when you practice philosophical writing, you create a chart with the elements (implications, relevance, critiques, etc.) you need with bullet points of your claims. Do this with your IA. I also did this with my EE since that was also a philosophy paper, but more about that in another post. Make this ideas as transparent as you can make them. You will thank yourself for it.
Alright, I know I implied that I'd discuss everything in this post, but it turned out to be much longer than I expected. So, I'll make separate posts about EE, CAS, IAs (if that comes up), getting my results, and how it compares to college life (and what the hell is going on with that now). Thanks for reading this far and don't be afraid to reach out to me for advice, as always. Just because I've graduated, that doesn't mean that I stopped supporting IB students and the struggle of going through it. My habits as a student in the programme still affect me as a college student and give me much to reflect on now. I will try to be more active from now on so as to give you all someone to go to with your questions!
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Side note: For me, it feels a bit strange that Alex barely talks about how it was working with (one of his) best friend(s) Scott Caan. I expected some more insight. In none of the interviews, he gets candid about that. Maybe it’s just me who noticed it...
Alex O'Loughlin is adding another title to his all-encompassing Hawaii Five-0 resume.
The 41-year-old star, who has valiantly led the Five-0 team as Steve McGarrett, makes his directorial debut with Friday's season eight episode of the CBS action drama, stepping behind the camera for the first time in his career.
In the installment, titled "E Ho'Oko Kuleana (To One's Duty)," the ex-wife of the man who shot Danny (Scott Caan) in an early season eight episode finds her way to Oahu, kicking off a slew of flashbacks to a time when the actions of a younger Danny, living in New Jersey at the time, helped save her life. While Danny's past comes back to roost, Tani (Meaghan Rath) and Junior (Beulah Koale) patrol the island, providing levity to an action-packed hour, and Adam (Ian Anthony Dale) is framed for the murder of the crime boss he's been hot on the heels of.
Ahead of the episode's premiere, ET jumped on the phone with O'Loughlin for a candid conversation about his directorial debut, why he's backtracking on comments he made about his desire to step away from Hawaii Five-0 after the current season and the "trickiest" part about directing himself.
ET: Friday’s episode of Hawaii Five-0 marks the first time you’ll be credited as a director in your career. How would you describe the experience stepping behind the camera versus being in front of it?
Alex O’Loughlin: It was super exciting. It was very different in the sense that when I’m in front of [the cameras], I try to make all the cameras disappear and all the strange people holding things around me just go away. That suspension of disbelief that’s required as an actor to live truthfully in imaginary circumstances is different to what needs to happen as a director, in the sense that you are the master of all the moving parts. You create the world in every detail. But it was thrilling. It was fantastic. It’s something I really hope I can do more of in my life because I enjoyed it very much.
You’ve been working in the industry for a while. Why did now feel like the right time for you to take the directing plunge?
I think my career is still a work in progress. There are many things I want to do, so many people I want to work with, so many different opportunities out there as an actor. It’s a really good question. Fundamentally, on this show, it took me years and years and years to get my workload down to a point where I could even conceptualize doing something like directing, because it takes a lot of time and a lot of energy. I know myself -- I don’t do anything half-a**ed -- so I think I did a hundred prep hours on this thing, almost like a bit of a psycho; I was a little OCD with it. It was by chance that [the opportunity] came this late on this show. When I started, I don’t think I was ever a good actor -- I’m not saying I’m a good actor now, but this show has been a master class in acting. I think I’ve grown as an actor on this show, [and] I wanted to do that first.
What was the most challenging part about directing?
The trickiest thing for me was dealing with myself, to be totally honest. I didn’t do as much acting preparation as I would’ve liked to or as I always do, so I was a little frustrated as an actor and also as a director. I was sort of racing back and forth from when I’d act a scene and then I’d call “cut” and then I’d race back to the monitor to watch the playback of my work, which I didn’t really care about. I just wanted to get me out of the way so I could focus on all of these great actors I was working with. I was annoyed at and with myself. [Laughs] But everything else was great.
This may be a difficult question for you to answer, but how is Alex the director different from Alex the actor?
That's an interesting question. There are some big differences. When I'm working as an actor, I want to be left alone and I have to go inward to get to the work that I've done, if that makes sense. But as a director, I'm much more gregarious and running around [on set] -- "Hey, I'm so glad we're doing this!" -- fiddling with all the cameras and lights. It's not that I feel more like a collaborator when I'm directing, but I feel like the collaboration when you work as an actor is more unsaid, it's more unsuspecting. You are a cog in the machine and you just focus on your part. As a director, you're focusing on all the cogs and on all the sums of the [whole] part.
You had the opportunity to direct major emotional beats in the episode, as well as a big action sequence and flashbacks with Scott. What was the most difficult for you to execute?
The action's second nature to me. I know how to do action and make it action-y. [Laughs] The thing that was most exciting to me was working with actors. Working with [guest stars] Joanna [Christie] and Daniel [Kaemon] was great. To have the permission to climb down into the foxhole with these actors where they live and do all their hard, dirty, emotional work and sit with them quietly and go, "Hey, listen, how do you feel about this? Do you trust me to take this [scene] this way?" That sort of stuff was really beautiful because I've had that relationship from the other side with a handful of wonderful directors over the years who care about the human condition. I care about story, man. I care about the human journey. To have these amazing actors give me the encouragement to be a part of what they're doing, to help them make choices, that was really, really amazing and very fulfilling.
We also see McGarrett playing the guitar early on in the episode, which is a nice nod for fans of the show, and you get to share the scene with Jimmy Buffett. Talk me through filming that moment.
Oh yeah, that was rad! [Laughs] It's funny, that Portuguese guitar -- I've played guitar my whole life, but that was impossible to play. So someone had to come in and string it like a normal guitar because none of us [had experience playing it]. I cheated a little bit and had them restring it so I could play it like a human. That was fun. It was a bizarre, funny little moment to have Jimmy Buffett with his bare feet up in McGarrett's office. It was nice. For the most part, it's a pretty dense, serious episode, so those little parts are deeply important relief moments.
In the April 13 episode, McGarrett's ex, Catherine, comes back into the fray. What can you tease about Michelle Borth's return?
It was great to see Michelle and it was cool to pick up where we left off. It's a great action, travel-y episode with McGarrett and Catherine. It's also nice to see these two sharing the same space for a minute and to explore how they feel about each other, how everything is cool [between them]. It was weird for a minute, the way she left -- somebody who's about to get proposed to and they choose an allegiance to the government and national security. It was a big blow for McGarrett. I think this episode served as a gentle closure and reinstated the friendship between the two of them, which was really important.
Last time we spoke, you were adamant about Hawaii Five-0 season eight being your last. We're now approaching the end of the season. Do you still feel the same way about your future on the show?
I'm opening the door a little bit. A big part of this is that my back injury is doing a lot better after my stem cell treatments. It's a big deal when you hurt your spine; it's one thing to get your teeth knocked out or have torn ligaments and tendons, but that injury really scared me. A couple of years ago, part of my reality was if this stays this way, I can't [do this anymore]. What are going to do, Ironside? Put me in a wheelchair? That sort of shifted a little bit. It's the end of a very long season and we're almost at 200 episodes. It's tough for me to think about coming back to work right now, but I'm open to negotiations. I haven't heard much but yeah, I'm open to it.
Could there be a situation where former stars Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park returned at some point for a final farewell? Has there been any internal talk about that?
I haven't listened to any talk about any of that stuff. All I know is they left and we got two new fantastic young actors who want to be here. It's sort of made a massive difference on the show. We had a long relationship with those other guys and they decided they didn't want to be here anymore and now we've got two people who want to be here. I don't know what it's like on the outside and I don't read all the news either, but from the inside, it's been a charming adjustment. That's probably part of why I'm more open to coming back as well.
So you'd be interested in discussions for a potential ninth season? (Note: CBS has yet to renew Hawaii Five-0.)
I'm way more open than I used to be but again, I don't know if we're even close to making a deal so it still might not happen. So we'll see.
Hawaii Five-0 airs Fridays at 9 p.m. ET/PT on CBS.
#alex o'loughlin#Alex O'Loughlin director#Alex O'loughlin direct#H50#h50 episode 8.18#h50 season 8#Steve McGarrett
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Since my Fates fan fiction is going down an entirely different path I really wanted to share the original plan. Clearly not all every detail is here, but the key stuff is.
A few things to note that applies to all routes a lot of this still remains true to the current fan fiction, so slight spoilers.
Mikoto is the mother of Takumi and Sakura
Azura is not all-knowing. As much as I like her I could make a drinking game with all the plot twists she spews that comes straight the fuck out of nowhere
Scarlet and her rebellion are a joke. I hate the Cheve chapters because, what the fuck are the rebelling against exactly?! Raised taxes? The equivalent of police brutality? What?! At least the Ice Tribe has justification with Flora and Felicia.
Izana has himself a lady named Mine, who is with child. Whether or not Izana and Mine are married, or if their child is born depends on when he’s met in the route (he’s married and his child is born in Conquest, but not Birthright) At the end of Conquest and Birthright they’re likely married though.
Lake travel is tweaked a little in order to keep traveling somewhat consistent. To get to Valla via lake you need to be from Valla, to get back from Valla it’s… not necessary, but helps to have a Vallite with you. Or at least someone who used to lake travel, for no other reason than keeping calm.
There’s no Deeprealms. Birthright and Conquest take place over the course of ten years.
Birthright
Almost after the battle, the repricautions of Vaiana’s choice hit hard. Not helped by Hinoka treating it as a victory for Hoshido, which leads her and Sakura to have an argument over it (probably not the worst out there, but still jarring considering it’s Sakura). Jakob is the only one Vaiana wants to see. A day or so later there is a bit of discussion about Jakob’s presents in Hoshido, but Vaiana lays down the law, either he stays, or they go.
Shortly after Vaiana is relocated into an empty fort, with the only other people living there with her being Sakura, Tsubaki, Hana, and Azura. She’s kept there for about three years and the fact that she’s gone from one gilded cage to another is not lost on her. Vaiana even outright says that Garon was never cruel enough to tease her with the size.
Vaiana decides she’s had enough when she hears about a border village under the attack of Faceless. Gathering anyone willing to go with her Vaiana marches to the village only to find they’re too late, there are no survivors. Mozu’s dismembered body joins the rest of her village in the funeral pier.
Throught the route Iago (and later Garon) express disappointment in Vaiana and her apparent understanding of the situation. And the meeting with the Rainbow Sage happens far sooner. Throughout Azura is not treated with the same respect as she does in-game, making it clear that she was never really considered a part of the family.
The Chevios rebellion is treated as an utter joke. As Jakob and Vaiana are quick to point out, they have no reason to rebel. As it would turn out, the ‘rebels’ are just a bunch of bored, untrained, over privileged children, who are very much aware that if Scarlet agrees to Ryoma’s alliance, they’re going to march to their deaths. Because of this, a few members of the Chevios rebellion abduct Vaiana with the intent of weaponizing her dragon form. All this earns them is a rogue dragon the Hoshidan army has to subdue before Vaiana loses herself.
The ordeal leaves Vaiana bitter and no longer feeling safe. When Scarlet tries apologize, she makes the mistake of saying she had no part in her attack. Vaiana, using her partial transformations, nearly causes the building they’re in to collapse during her beat down of Scarlet. Scarlet’s soldiers abducted Vaiana because they were afraid of dying because they were untrained. As their leader Scarlet should have done better, she was just as much responsible for Vaiana’s attack as her actual attackers.
Around the same time, Jakob, furious that Hoshido has hurt Vaiana far more than Nohr ever did lays down a mighty Reason You Suck Speech (in the vain of Last Midnight from Into the Woods). It’s because of this that Ryoma refuses an alliance with Scarlet he goes on to lead the frontline while Vaiana tries to recover from her physical and mental injuries from the ordeal. It’s mentioned that the Nohrian armies put an end to the Chevois rebellion and Scarlet was killed via public hanging. What’s left of the rebellion disbanded and went on to live quite lives.
After a slight time skip, Vaiana is still left rather jaded and is only just beginning to feel safe around strangers.
After Kaze dies Vaiana is screaming at Saizo to take it out on her. He doesn’t, only saying Kaze went above and beyond the call of duty, something Vaiana feels is worse than had he actually yelled. It’s not helped at all when Kagero explains that the ninja are taught not to get too attached, or show outward emotion.
Jakob has no sympathy for Flora, calling her pathetic, and a coward. Vaiana realizes just how much he hated her. Jakob sympathies do go to Felicia as she had lost everything and has little means to take care of herself because of it.
In the Woods of Forlorn Niles goes as far as to claim that Vaiana has done worst than he could ever do to Leo. He even applauds her talent. The backtrack to the Rainbow Sage doesn’t happen as it happened during the intial cross to Nohr. Nor dose
Camilla and Leo are very much aware that just talking things out isn’t going to work. Far too late for that. But both decide it’s something Vaiana and Elise need to learn for themselves. They both expected Elise to live, though. After Elise dies Xander’s far more blatant about his suicide attempt, taking things into his own hands when Vaiana refuses to fight. Xander’s passing leaves Vaiana a shell of her former self and adopts the mentality of ‘I’m going hell, might as well get ready for the take-over.’ Laslow and Peri were also killed.
Azura’s husband is present for Azura’s death. (Well, okay, obviously not Kaze but you know…) Despite the pain she’s in Azura both wants to see her children one last time but doesn’t want them to see their mother die in front of them.
As opposed to Ryoma’s coronation, the Hoshidan’s witness Leo’s coronation. Takumi always thought Nohr wasn’t picky when it came to gender. And they’re not, but Camilla claims that a vengeful queen is the last thing Nohr needs as she would surely drag Nohr and Hoshido to hell after everything they’ve done. All with an unnerving smile. Hinoka awkwardly states that she always thought Camilla had no sense of humor. According to Vaiana, Camilla wasn’t lying.
It’s noted that Odin resigned as Leo’s retainer and explained that he was old friends with Laslow and likely returned to their unknown homeland. The implication being that Owain returned to Ylisse to inform Olivia and her husband (in this case Lon’qu) of what happened to Inigo. It’s also mentioned that of the Awakening Trio, Selena’s staying in Nohr, even after Camilla abdicated her royal title and essentially reclassed into a Witch. Camilla is essentially roommates with her old retainers.
When meeting Azura at the lake Vaiana’s convinced she was just imagining things. To her, it’d make more sense for Azura’s ghost to stick around her children. It’s also noted that Vaiana’s holding on to the pendant. She and Azura’s husband will later decide who to give it to.
Vaiana, broken by war, stars dulling her pain by drinking. It’s implied she’s also gone to self-harm. The people of Nohr have started pressuring Leo to retaliate against Hoshido for that they’ve done in the war. The subject of marriage has come up in an attempt to ease tensions, however, Hinoka is already married with a child on the way. Leading Vaiana to suggest she offer herself.
Ryoma and Yukimura talk about it in private. Yukimura mentions that, though it’s through marriage, Vaiana is still a princess of Hoshido. And he would not have been surprised it Sumeragi and Mikoto discussed the idea. However, Vaiana, looking to talk to Ryoma about her suggestion, suddenly appears inside asking what Yukimura meant when he called her a princess through marriage. Slowly, her reeling mind figures it out herself, she’s not Sumeragi’s child.
Both men try to explain it, no she’s not Sumeragi’s daughter, but he was there where her real father wasn’t. He was there since she was born. Vaiana, however, demands to know when they planned on telling her. Neither Yukimura nor Ryoma has an answer for her. Not only does Vaiana realize Ryoma had absolutely no intention of ever telling her, she get’s it in her head that Mikoto was never going to tell her either (having no proof, either way, muddles it just a bit).
Realizing she had no more obligation to Hoshido than she did Nohr finally pushes Vaiana over the edge. She puts her all into destroying her dragonstone, and like steam released from a pot, her troubles are gone. Vaiana’s mind deteriorates, consumed by one thought alone; the continent was not worth saving. Allowing the beast to completely take over, Vaiana sets her sights on bringing an end to Hoshido and Nohr.
Conquest
The earliest changes in this comes in Jakob essentially taking Silas’s place when explaining things to Vaiana. And, skipping ahead a little, there is a bit of discussion between Silas and Vaiana when Vaiana made Kaze her second retainer over Silas. The fact of the matter is, Vaiana really does not like how Silas refuses to acknowledge that things have changed, and REALLY doesn’t like how he’s essentially using her to make himself feel better. She’s had enough of that with both sets of siblings.
Unlike Birthright, Mozu is actually saved by Leo. When they do meet, Vaiana offers to take her in. And when Garon and Azura do meet, Garon ends up having something akin to a heart attack
After defeating Hinoka in Notre Sagesse, Kaze switches sides, noting that Mikoto was very much aware that Vaiana may want to return to Nohr, and only asked her children to respect it. The only one doing that is Sakura. Meanwhile, Rinkah, realizing that Vaiana’s been avoiding deaths, and having warmed up to her while bringing her to Hoshdio, informs Hinoka that the Flame Tribe will no longer cooperate with Hoshido.
A little later Vaiana and Kaze have their talk about what happened the night she was taken, something they never had until the last moment in Hoshido.
Elise and a few other members of the group end up getting sick. Vaiana is far, FAR angrier with Ryoma for the tact he’s using, even saying he would fit in pretty well in Nohr just to get a rise out of him. Meanwhile, Kaze tries to explain his reasons for defecting to Saizo, and Kagero. Kagero is a bit more willing to listen.
A reoccurring theme is that Vaiana will not allow herself to be bullied into feeling guilty for leaving Hoshido. Especially since she barely knew them. Takumi was unwilling to give her a chance, Hinoka was unwilling to get to know Vaiana as she is now over the girl she was then, and Ryoma was busy. The only person who get’s any guilt out of her is Sakura, the only one she really bonded with and the only one who really has Vaiana’s happiness in mind.
As is the case with Birthright Scarlet’s rebellion is a joke, and Garon’s finally had enough for their mischief and the people coming to him about raising taxes because of their actions (property damage, wasted food that could be harvest). And as is the case with Birthright Scarlet ends up being put to death in a public hanging. This time, however, Vaiana get’s to see the public reactions, and she does pity Scarlet slightly as no one’s going to miss her.
In Cyrkensia Azura dose her ritual in an attempt to purge Garon of Anankos’ influence. When that fails, rather than ordering the performers killed, Cyrkensia is searched for the singer. Unfortunately, some maidens who bare a passing resemblance are also brought in for further questioning.
When Vaiana follows Azura into Valla Azura starts to suspect that Mikoto may have been from Valla. But before she can dwell on it too long they’re met by Gunter, prompting Azura to explain that she struggled to get him out without the risk of getting them both killed. Then there was the issue of finding the lake. In private Azura explains that she has when she looks at Garon. And the fact that the castle healers couldn’t find a definitive answer to what was ailing Garon when he had his ‘heart attack’ which further causes unease. She had hoped that she could find something of use in the surviving archives of Valla, but she decides not to push her luck for the time being.
Beruka finds the three shortly after they return to Cyrkensia. Garon was attacked while they were gone, the only thing witnesses could agree on was the assailant has short, vibrant red hair. While the princesses follow Beruka to Garon, Gunter stays behind and mentions that things were going according to plan.
All of Cyrkensia is on alert after Garon’s attack, the king himself is in the infirmary with Iago, leaving Xander to lead the search parties. Vaiana asks if it was really Hinoka, and while Xander agrees she fit’s the description, he chooses to believe that she isn’t stupid enough to do something like this without covering her most promenade feature. Meanwhile, Iago starts muttering to himself, wondering why Hinoka hasn’t been caught yet. Garon, speaking quite clearly for someone who was just attacked, isn’t all that concerned. The last thing Iago smells is death before an ax flashes.
The search goes on for hours, and it’s only after the royals regroup do they hear one of Cyrkensia’s healers scream. The scream in question came from Garon’s room. Xander and Leo find the healer dead on the floor beside Iago, and Slime Garon standing above them. Whether or not Garon’s attack put a sort of enchantment over him is unknown, but Garon starts attacking without rhyme or reason. It’s noted in the description that the stench of decay follows Garon wherever he goes, and in certain lighting, one could swear they can see bones under the slime. Though the royals try to talk sense into Garon, Xander is forced to realize that it’s a losing fight and kills Garon in the hopes he’s released of whatever claimed him.
As an ‘epilogue’ of sorts it’s revealed that Garon’s real attacker was the late Queen Ikona as a Vallite Soldiers and that the recently deceased Iago has been resurrected as one such soldier. Some bits of Iago’s original personality remains, as he’s giddy as soon as he realized what Anankos’ plan was. With everyone thinking Hinoka was the one responsible for Garon’s attack and subsequent madness Xander will be pressured into retaliation.
Sure enough, sometime after Xander’s coronation the people of Nohr are demanding Hinoka answer to her alleged crime. Xander, however, is not so quick as to call for Hinoka’s head just yet and tries to set up a meeting with Ryoma to talk things out, he refuses every time until Xander is left with little choice but to invade.
From then on what happens for a while happens as it dose in-game. Sakura is captured, but Elise tries to explain that they initially just wanted to talk things out with Ryoma and Hinoka, even get an alibi. But Sakura counters with the fact that it’s too late now. Nohr’s people are convinced.
I’m going to have to cut this part short as I’m actually reusing it for the revised version.
Revelation
I actually never got around to writing an outline for this one, but I do know of some points that were going to be in it.
While it’s true for the other two routes, Vaiana suspects she isn’t Sumeragi’s daughter as she realizes she did not inherit anything from him. Likewise, she figures out her relation to Anankos on her own.
Izana dies, and Mine takes over until their child comes of age. The child is born by the time of Vaiana’s corrination
After the battle with Xander and Ryoma’s forces in Nestria Azura and Vaiana return to Valla to talk freely, but as it turns out, Takumi followed them. Vaiana realizes that Mikoto had to have been from Valla because of it.
The Rainbow Sage is confirmed to be Vaiana’s paternal grandfather (likewise the case with Lilith, who already knew).
This is the only route Scarlet scurvies, ironically, because she doesn’t go along on the adventure. The one who takes her place to die however is either Yukimura or Flora. I hadn’t fully deiced either or, both work, and both wouldn’t have been so painfully obvious.
Fuga and Flora would have had a Big Damn Heroes moment, arriving during White Flames.
Ryoma and Vaiana actually talk about what happened when she was taken. And during Ryoma’s support with Xander he decides to put his trust in Xander by revealing Vaiana’s true origin to him (or at least what he knows).
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Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol.2 Review
Confession: I was hesitant going into this film.
I know I’m probably in the minority there, but it’s seemed to me, over the last couple of years, that Marvel has been trying and failing with their sequels (or threequels) to outdo their predecessors. I first noticed it with Thor 2; a cycle of unbalanced/inappropriate tone and only partially resonating character arcs. Don’t get me wrong, each movie is entertaining in its own way, but much like Pixar’s long-standing record for fresh and original, Marvel has this knack for presenting comic book movies in unusual ways. However, it’s been running for so long and so frequent now their ‘unusual’ has become ‘expected’ and it’s rare I’ve gone into one of their movies lately with more than half-hearted enthusiasm. Doctor Strange was the exception, but that’s purely because I’m partial to his character. And I did enjoy that movie, even if I would have liked a little more ground and a little less quirky. For me, personally, Guardians of the Galaxy 2 raised the bar again, and that’s not something I’ve really felt in a sequel since seeing Winter Soldier.
The beginning of the film felt a little disjointed, in both tone and scene transition. I’ll say right now I’ve never read a Guardians comic, I knew nothing about them before going to see the first film so I went into each one, blind. The tonal shift wasn’t as smooth as I personally would have liked between the flashback sequence and the fast-forward. Admittedly, the film as was such a ride as a whole that I’ve forgotten the exact details but: that first sequence with the Guardians began with an urgency that felt a little forced, even with the abrupt ‘time-transition’ card or whatever it’s called. It transitioned into something more humorous and light-hearted which did better match the opening scene, but for a little while there, I worried I was in for another Thor 2.
Speaking of the opening, I loved the decision to show the sequence from Groot’s point of view. Another unusual approach, just like the first film, and like the first film I think it did a pretty decent job (I say decent because again, they opened its predecessor with a similar stylistic approach.) Plus, who doesn’t love a pint-sized Groot?
From an aesthetic perspective, the Sovereign race fascinated me. So simple, yet I was completely drawn into their golden look. Made me think back to James Bond and an old story I heard about one of their movies (which in turn left me wondering what kind of makeup was used.) Speaking of makeup, I’m almost always more impressed by the practical vs computer generated ratio. Being a fan, as I am, of the old Hollywood era, I’m in awe of the sort of creatures artists can create with their own two hands. It’s literally giving life to a fantasy. Computers produce a cleaner effect but I don’t know…it just isn’t the same.
Also, and more from a nerd than critical perspective: I couldn’t take their battle methods entirely seriously, and I’m not sure I was supposed to. The set-up, the way they crowded around the one Sovereign pilot, even the battle sequence itself reminded me of an old-school arcade. I loved that. Strange, but it worked because it wasn’t overly emphasized.
Jumping ahead a bit (because it’s late and I can’t remember every detail) the only casting I found questionable was Stallone. I hate to say that because I grew up watching Rocky, I still go see Rocky movies, I love Stallone as an actor but I just don’t know if I was really feeling anything from him. I’m sure he tried, but that spark I saw in so many other character’s eyes wasn’t in his. His lines didn’t register deep within his character’s heart, because they were just that, lines. I haven’t seen Stallone in really anything else other than the Rocky movies, but I’m wondering now if he’s the kind of actor who’s good at one thing (the underdog athlete, the soldier) and nothing else. I hope that’s not the case. His appearance was a nice, nostalgic little surprise. I’d like to see more, but I want to feel it, too. So here’s hoping.
Now let’s talk about Kurt Russell. Damn, where’s he been hiding? That’s how you deliver a performance. I love loved his character, it’s so rare these days to find villains who not only don’t believe they’re villains but genuinely think they’re in the right. I guess X-men’s Apocalypse was a little like that, but his presentation came off more sinister, as opposed to Ego’s sincerity. I was discussing this with my family: Ego never lied to Quill, not once. He merely chose to partly answer and explain things. At least, that’s what I think. Unlike Apocalypse, or even Thor 2’s Malekith, Ego didn’t spend thousands of years in suspended sleep: he lived it. His age and disconnect mesh so well with his not-villain villainous plans, and Russell was so honest and genuine he captured that perfectly.
Yandu was actually my favorite surprise. From his killer montage-escape sequence to his heart-breaking confession at end, he definitely wins as the award for best highlight in my opinion. I can’t remember much of what he did in the first film, minus the backstory but I thought that carried over well to where we see him, when he’s first introduced in this one. We also, at least, I also, saw a little more, that defeat and stubborn streak when confronted. I always had this feeling, even in the first film, that he sort of saw Quill as his son, but it was so subtle before I wasn’t actually sure they were going to go that route. As the plot progressed and Yandu’s role increased I thought back on an earlier conversation between the Guardians of the Galaxy, and how Drax thought Yandu was Quill’s father earlier on. That’s definitely foreshadowing at its finest, yet I didn’t find it too obvious and I think that’s because of what I remembered of Yandu’s relationship with Quill from the last movie. That, and Drax tends to be the outrageous one used for outrageous humor; that little moment could have easily been used to capitalize on that, taken as a way to highlight Quill’s leftover rage towards Yandu for kidnapping and ‘ruining’ his childhood.
I actually cried when he died, which I never would have expected from a Guardians movie. The bond between him and Quill, as well as Chris Pratt’s ability to channel emotion through his eyes (a feat I’ve only seen a couple actors do with such intensity) made for a heartbreaking send-off, yet satisfying, at the same time. From a viewer perspective, I would have liked him to live, but looking critically, his character arc was complete by the end of the film; there wasn’t anywhere else to go that felt deserved. If anything (because I’ve seen this happen before) further development might have hindered his progress and tarnished this performance going forward, so I think, overall, death suited him.
What a death it was…I’m reminded, loosely, of It’s a Wonderful Life: there are glacier-wide differences between Yandu and George Bailey but they’re the same in that they’re the one man kicked around most of their life, forced to make the tough decisions despite the consequences, but in the end they’ve touched the lives of more people than they’ll ever know. I think Kraglin’s reaction to the funeral sums up Yandu better than I could. Side note though, I felt his relationship with Rocket definitely helped both characters.
Rocket on his own, though, I almost felt he backtracked from where we left him at the end of the first film. It could be that I’m misremembering but I felt like his gruff attitude (and likewise reception to it) didn’t feel as natural as it did the first go-round. I liked that characters weren’t just okay with it, because even close-knit families have limited tolerance towards insult. It just needed a bit of refining, or perhaps more build-up in order to really appreciate his character evolution. I do like that there was, and as the movie progressed, how he seemed to gradually accept that he cared about this group, and that was okay. I did think, those few “asshole” encounters aside, Rocket maintained a balance between that exasperated sarcasm and earnestness. Especially with Groot.
Backing up for a second, I’d just like to note I was pleasantly surprised by Kraglin’s character as well. I do want to go back and rewatch the first movie; when I do, I’ll look for his character. I wasn’t expecting someone with so minor a role to play such a large part in this film. I’m really glad he did. That doesn’t happen as nearly as often as I wish it did—it reminded me very vaguely of Galaxy Quest, and the “red shirt” character, there (because it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen that movie as well.) Minor characters experience their own share conflict: it’s nice we got to see that. I hope Kraglin sticks around for a third film.
Other character notes: Mantis was adorable. Her innocence and relationship with Drax, however strange, was touching in its own way. Loud and clunky Drax is the one the delicate Mantis bonds with and chooses to trust her secrets to I loved that. It’s unexpected, in true Guardian fashion. Nebula, too, I felt for much more in this movie. I’ve seen so many violent, angry characters claiming/with tragic backstories over the years, especially when it comes to the super-hero genre, it gets a little tiresome. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot to be said for that and I understand why the way they are (Magneto is one of my favorite characters) it’s just I’m usually more interested in the characters who appear more put together but who you can tell have suffered as well, even if they choose not to outwardly display it. That’s in part because I can relate to that but also because it’s almost more interesting to me. That said…I really felt for Nebula. Hearing what Thanos did to her, there’s no way I can ignore that and seeing her come undone was hard to watch. Maybe her confrontation and turnaround happened a bit quickly but she was forced along with them for most of the movie at different points. I suppose that would chip away at her rage eventually. That, and a crumbling god-planet. I’ll also say that, as opposed to Erik Lehnsherr, who I wish would just stay with the X-men, I’m glad Nebula wasn’t dissuaded from killing her father. She turned around, but not completely, and felt fitting for her state of mind. All that rage directed at Thanos now, it’ll be interesting to see when she next appears.
Gamora too, I’m glad had a lot more development, and I’m equally glad she expressed it indirectly, with the exception of her confrontation with Nebula. There was so much pain between them, so much shared pain despite coming from different sides. The scene itself was a bit expected, even Nebula’s confession she only wanted a sister; it worked for them, though. Without it, I don’t think there could have been any headway, especially because their entire arc is a very relied-on trope for siblings in conflict. On another note I’m so relieved to see an organic, slow-building romance in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It’s there, it’s real but it’s not the most important part of their relationship. Family first, everything else comes with time. I’m so tired of people thinking one needs a romantic-interest in order to better sell a movie. I’ve seen so many super hero films bogged down by forced sub-plots and no chemistry, Gamora and Quill are a breath of fresh air.
I haven’t mentioned Peter Quill yet because, as the main character there’s a lot to say, and a lot that’s already seen on screen. As one of the most expressive characters you know and hear a lot of what he’s thinking as the story goes, more than anyone else, I’d say. His familial conflicts weren’t the most original, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it approached in a way that didn’t feel cliché or undeserved. Even his rage upon learning Ego killed his mother—which I’ve seen before (Anakin in Star Wars, Magneto in First Class, even Sasuke in the Naruto franchise—it felt so raw, but not the ‘bordering-on-villianous-transformation’ raw. Maybe that’s why it left a different impact. As I said before, Chris Pratt is incredibly gifted at displaying his emotion through his eyes. You really felt Quill explode inside, and because, maybe, he was the hero, you cheered a little when he charged at Ego. The same can be said for later in the film, when he tapped into his godly abilities. Yandu’s “I don’t control the arrow with my head” advice. That also made me think of First Class (the point between rage and serenity.) It didn’t matter though, because at this point, at least I think, you care enough about these characters and their bonds that you want Quill to win, even if he’s going to do it through a recycled trope. You want this human to pummel his all-powerful father, a father who’s caused so much death and destruction and you want this family to remain intact because dammit, they aren’t perfect, they aren’t all the best people but they deserve to belong.
Stepping away from the characters for a moment, my favorite sequence by far was Yandu and company’s escape. I’ve never seen so much death in a Marvel Studios movie. Maybe Age of Ultron, but nothing explicitly shown, and while that led to Civil War, no one died in that movie either. I’m not saying I want to see a death count, because I don’t, but you can’t call a movie Civil WAR and have no one die. The stakes were just so sub-par in that movie. So when Yandu killed what, two-hundred people with a single arrow, I was shocked. I’d gotten so used to the Cinematic Universe’s quirky humor buddy-buddy ‘let’s-sell-merchandise’ mantra I never would have expected that. Or the cavern of skeletons. This movie felt far more like a legitimate science fiction film than it did a super hero one, and I suppose in many ways, it is. I would like to mention though that this scene did not earn a favorite’s declaration because of the death. I don’t go see a film to watch characters die, as I said. The way this montage was shot and edited convinced me to hope for the rest of the film, that maybe it would be more than ‘trying too hard.’ I mean I enjoyed it, but that sequence made me believe this movie could stand on its own. I’d like to go back and see this movie again so I can better describe it. I will say I remember not only being entertained by the off-beat choices, but impressed by how seamless transitions were, how on par with the music; it was a montage, but it was a slightly manic montage, and those tend to succeed, or come across far too chaotic and messy. Or again, trying too hard.
I’d like to make one small note at the end of the film, and it is a small thing. There are a couple of tonal shifts in this movie that don’t work as well as they could (such as Mantis falling unconscious during the climactic battle—I appreciate what they were trying to do and I know I can be a sucker for the traditional that way but I just felt like it dampened the seriousness when you needed to feel it.) The ending of this movie, the jump from Yandu’s death to the credits, felt the same way. It was very abrupt, and really each time it happened felt as though the creative visionaries weren’t respecting the characters, or rather, downplaying their emotional significance. I’d have to see the movie again to say for sure, but I remember feeling as though not enough time was given to appreciate Yandu’s impact.
There were a lot of post-credit scenes as well. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie, especially a super hero one, where the post-credit scenes don’t take away from the movie’s tonal impact. Doctor Strange, for example; both scenes felt far too rushed, I would have liked to see them at the end of another movie, despite how little time there is until Ragnarok. I don’t particularly like feeling as though I MUST BE EXCITED RIGHT NOW, when I already was for this origin movie. I digress, all of Guardians’ scenes felt appropriate, and the easter eggs blended in. Even the ones I didn’t personally understand (simply for not having read the comics) I was able to figure out—from Stallone’s original Guardians to Adam’s loose introduction. I guess Marvel has plans beyond Infinity war after all. Oh, and teenage Groot! Totally unnecessary, but a lot of fun. I wonder how long it takes tree-creatures to grow up. Will we see Groot at that age when the Guardians return? Or perhaps he’ll finally be an adult again…I rather liked small Groot. Humorous, adorable, but not at all over the top. And the small and different ways the Guardians ‘parented’ him.
If I have anything left to say, I suppose it’s about Mister Stan Lee. Only in a Guardians movie could they get away with such an outrageous cameo, and I loved it. Fourth-wall-breaking seems to be a building trend; let’s hope no one gets carried away with it, however well it worked here. I do think the second appearance at the end was a little slow-moving, and that, hm…I’m not sure it worked as well as it could have, but is it really my place to critically analyze a Stan Lee cameo? The man’s ninety-four, and there to entertain us fans. I wanted to mention it but I’m fine with the way it turned out.
So yeah, I think that’s it, over all. If I see the movie again, I may write a follow-up, but for now, this sums up my thoughts pretty well. I do need to watch the original again, but as it is now I think I prefer this one. Don’t go in expecting the same thing, though, to anyone who hasn’t yet seen it; there’s more heart than humor, and it helps the movie stand out on its own.
#guardians of the galaxy#guardians of the galaxy volume 2#gamora#peter quill#starlord#rocket#groot#drax the destroyer#yondu#ego#guardians of the galaxy volume 2 review#returnedtothecrypt
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