#moved a few things around + added a thing

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet

𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k

Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.

Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.

Triple fuck.

Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.

You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.

You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.

This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!

You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.

Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.

Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.

The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.

What a shame it was only a one-time thing.

Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body.  When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.

You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.

It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.

It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.

“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.

Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.

"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."

Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"

“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”

"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker. 

His eyebrows shot up.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.

"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter. 

You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.

It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.

"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"

"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."

“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”

"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."

"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."

You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then. 

It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.

"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."

"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.

"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"

Elle glanced around and shrugged.

"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."

"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.

"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."

"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"

You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.

Elle, who knew you better than anyone.

Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.

Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.

"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."

Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:

"Did you sleep with Reid?!"

"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.

"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."

"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"

"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"

To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”

"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."

"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"

"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."

You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.

"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."

"End of discussion..."

"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"

You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.

"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.

Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.

Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.

You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.

"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."

You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.

"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."

Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.

"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"

"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.

Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."

Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.

"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.

You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.

Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.

"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.

"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"

She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed.  Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.

"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.

"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.

Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.

"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."

At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you �� you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…

"I forgot my phone."

Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...

“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”

“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”

“Right…”

He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.

Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…

The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.

“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”

Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”

“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”

“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.

“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”

“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”

Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”

He widened his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."

"That I’m hot?"

"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"

"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."

"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.

"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."

You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"

"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"

 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."

You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.

You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"

"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.

You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.

Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.

 “Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.

 “Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”

You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…

The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.

With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.

"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.

"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"

"Sorry, It’s just my thing”

You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.

"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."

"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"

“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”

“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”

“The episode is starting.”

“I’ll be back in a second…”

“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”

Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.

 “What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”

You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.

“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”

“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”

“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.

For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.

"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."

"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."

"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.

"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."

Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.

But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…

"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."

You shrugged, forcing indifference.

"Fine, I guess."

You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.

"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."

"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.

Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.

"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"

He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.

Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?

"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"

You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”

"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"

"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."

"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."

Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.

"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"

“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”

“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."

You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.

"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."

"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."

 "Do you really believe that?"

“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.

He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.

“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.

For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.

But was it the same for you two?

Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.

Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.

Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.

"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.

You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.

"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.

He shrugged.

"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.

Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.

"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.

After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.

"You must be joking."

"What?"

"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."

"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"

"True, you got me. Did it work?"

"Not really."

You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.

"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."

He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.

"Don’t..."

"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."

With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.

"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"

"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”

Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.

"I’m focused."

Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.

"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."

Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.

"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”

You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.

“Do you really mean that?”

Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.

“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”

He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.

“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”

He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.

“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”

You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.

“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”

You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer. 

The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.

In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.

It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.

An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.

“Spencer? What is it? “

After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.

“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.

"Spencer, I want you to answer me."

When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.

You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.

“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”

But was it the same for you two? 

You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come. 

You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer 

*

"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."

"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."

Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."

"You just told him that?"

"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"

"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."

Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.

"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"

She sighed.

"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."

You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.

Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.

Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.

“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.

As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.

“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.

You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.

“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”

“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.

“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.

“You still have feeling in your hands?”

“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.

“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.

He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.

“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.

You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of water?”

You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”

“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.

“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”

“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”

 “Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”

 “Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”

 “I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”

After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.

Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.

“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.

The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.

“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”

“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”

“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.

Her question echoed in your mind.

“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.

“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?

“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”

“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.

“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”

Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.

“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” 

His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.

You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.

Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.

“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.

And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.

You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.

“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?

“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.

He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction? 

Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.

“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.

You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.

In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.

It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.

*

You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.

"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."

"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."

"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.

Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.

"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.

You briefly hugged her with one arm.

"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.

Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.

It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.

Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.

"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.

The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.

"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"

"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.

You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.

"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."

You shook your head in confusion.

"Resolve what?" Reid asked.

"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."

You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…

 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.

 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

 "Absolutely none. Never."

 "I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."

You let out a snort.

 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"

 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.

 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"

"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.

"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."

His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.

 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."

You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.

 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.

 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.

[martiniblues]

CUPIDS CHOKEHOLD , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis you decide to visit spencer during his lunch break. unbeknownst to you, the team has been waiting for your arrival since they found out about you and spencer’s relationship.

genre fluff, reader is described with a cheugy/funky kind of style, and just overall teasing from the team lol.

standing in the mirrored elevator, you took in your appearance one last time. your patterned tights, babydoll dress, denim jacket, and colorful accessories were nothing out of the ordinary for you.  you took pride in your sense of fashion, not caring how others perceived you. 

spencer made it known to you almost daily how much he adored the way you styled yourself. your whimsical and girly attire added the perfect contrast to his “grandpa attire” as you liked to call it. 

returning your tube of lipgloss to its desired spot, you heard the faint ding of the elevator, alerting you of your arrival. you took a deep breath before walking up to the secretary at the counter. the building was sleek and shiny, only emphasizing your appearance. 

the brunette welcomed you, asking for your id before you heard your name being called by an all too familiar voice. “she’s with me; actually, no need to call in or anything.” spencer grabbed the visitors badge and clipped it to the pocket of your jacket before looking at you. 

“hey spence,” you giggled, adjusting his glasses that had gone askew from his evident rush to get to you. he blushed as you slid your hand to the side of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek softly. 

he grabbed your hand and led you into what you deemed to be the “bullpen” spencer had mentioned to you before. your boots clicked on the ground, muffled by the sounds of the bau. 

many workers turned and looked, unfamiliar with your presence and even more shocked that you were with spencer. he looked at you, noticing your wondering eyes. “it’s a little hectic right now, sorry.” he pulled you into his cubicle, already having a chair ready for you. 

“its actually really cool seeing this place for the first time. it really is like the tv shows.” he almost laughed at your childlike awe, reaching over to roll your chair closer to his own. satisfied with your positioning, spencer moved a few folders and notebooks from his desk to make room for your shared food. 

you could only get one bite in before a presence appeared behind you. “you invited mrs. genius here, and you didn’t tell anyone?” two hands came to grab spencer by his shoulders, causing him to jump slightly. 

the man smiled at you with possibly the whitest teeth you had ever seen. his broad shoulders, stature, and dark skin made him almost god-like. “morgan-“ spencer began before another head peaked around him.

“the woman, the myth, the legend!” the shorter blonde woman gasped, walking over to you. spinning your chair so that you were facing her entirely, her eyes lit up. “you are literally the cutest thing i have ever seen. boy wonder, why haven’t you brought her in sooner?” the nickname made you laugh, looking at spencer to see the embarrassed look on his face. 

“morgan and garcia, back off before you scare the poor girl away.” a dark-haired woman leaned against the desk behind you. soon after, another blonde and two older men crowed around you. 

they waited eagerly as spencer introduced you, looking between you two as if this were the best thing they had ever seen. “it’s nice to meet you all. spence has told me so much about you guys.” you rose from your seat, shaking their hands so as not to come off as unprofessional in such a serious building. 

even if it contradicted their previous actions…

“she even has a nickname for him, oh derek hold me before i pass out from the beauty of young love.” penelope held her hand to her heart, leaning into the man beside her as he rolled his eyes from her antics. 

“she was nearly this dramatic when she noticed the picture spencer put up of you on his desk.” rossi pointed at the item you had failed to notice as you arrived. 

tucked beside his computer, a small black and white photobooth strip stared back at you. memories of the early bits of your relationship flooded your mind.

you smiled lightly at the last panel, remembering how nervous you had been to kiss spencer on camera. he looked up at you, mirroring your expression.

the team continued to interrogate you, asking about where the two of you met, your first date, who asked out who first, almost as if they were profiling you. 

spencer sighed at the realization, clearly annoyed at your alone time being interrupted. you noticed, sitting back down beside him and looking at him to reassure him that you were fine. 

“glad to see she really likes him and wasn’t paid.” emily nodded towards spencer’s cheek. a light pink kiss mark adorned his skin, making the rest of the team snicker before he wiped it off with the back of his hand. 

“are you guys trying to scare her away?” spencer whined, feeling like a boy introducing his first girlfriend to his embarrassing family. 

“come on, reid, we’re only messing with you.” jj perched her hand on her hip, smiling at you warmly. “we’ll let you guys be for now, but don’t leave too soon. we have to give her a tour!” penelope insisted, turning to the group as they all shook their heads in agreement. 

“that’d be nice, thank you.” you replied before turning back to your boyfriend. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” spencer mumbled, leaning into your side.

you ruffled his hair, “i see why you talk about them so much. they clearly care about you a lot.” you looked over your shoulder, catching them spying from one of the conference rooms. 

smirking you turned back to spencer, kissing his cheek once more before you continued to eat and talk about what you’d plan to do after he got off work. 

after you finished your mostly uninterrupted lunch, you were swept away by penelope as she gave you your promised tour. showing you everyone’s office, the break room, multiple conference rooms, and even the dingy locker room in the very back.

after one tight hug from morgan, a promise for a girls night from penelope, some teasing from jj and emily, and more typical goodbyes from hotch and rossi, you were finally walking back to your car.

you expected spencer to just walk you back to the elevator, but your face quickly lit up when he stepped inside, pulling you flush against him and pressing a button to make the doors close.

“finally have you alone.” he mumbled before crashing his lips to yours. you gasped at his sudden boldness, highly due to the lack of curious eyes, and moved your hands to rest behind his neck.

his hands went under your jacket, yearning to be close to you but having enough sense to not pull anything too risky. “i’ve been wanting to do that since you’ve got here.” he pulled away shortly before the ding of the elevator announced your arrival.

you just grabbed his hand and pulled him along side you. “they were really sweet, spence. i’m happy you work with people that are so much like a family.” as you made it to your car you turned around, your back leaning against your trunk as spencer came to stand in-front of you.

“they’re nosey like one, for sure.” he joked, bringing his hand to rest on your hip once again. you sighed before reaching up to kiss him one last time. “i’ll see you tonight.” you promised, squeezing his hand before it left yours in his return to work.

before you got in your car, you turned around looking up to see six familiar faces looking right back at you.

just something i thought of off a whim because i saw an edit of the bau to 400 lux by lorde and got SOOOOO emotional. like thats my family fr!!!! hope you enjoyed<333

[inthehexcore]

pages and books

summary: The quiet Enforcer stops by your quiet library. Multiple times.

content: STEB! librarian!reader gets sick, fluff, can't think of much else! probably ooc

wordcount: 2.397

a/n: i love Steb so much... inbox/requests open!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The sun in Piltover shone as bright as it always did. It lit up the entire library, and you could not help but hum as you pushed the cart of books around. The warmth of the rays only made the building look more beautiful, something which you were not aware was even possible.

The high ceilings with curved windows and hand-painted images, detailed golden pillars, royal blue seats with dark wooden tables. Not all of your fellow students liked the library. To be fair, there were tons of other stunning places all around Piltover, but yours was here.

You spent so much time surrounded by the books that you just ended up taking a side job as the assistant. It meant pouring coffee and putting back books, but it also meant reading when everything was cleaned and drinking the sweet tea that was technically only meant for the professors.

With the library not being the most popular spot, it also allowed you to brush up on skills and even pick up new things to learn. The history of Piltover, Professor Heimerdinger's autobiography, varieties of plants, but most recently, you found a book about sign language. It was interesting for sure. Every time you put the loaned books back in their spot, another one got added to the stack of other books that you still wanted to read during your breaks.

So, as per usual, you sat at the window near the counter. Even with it being your break, you still liked to be close to your workspace, just in case someone came in.

A steaming cup of tea stood beside your book as you flipped through the pages, admiring the photographs of Piltover's 'ten most beautiful buildings', occasionally stirring the cup of tea and taking a sip out of it. Stuck in your own world, though your gaze moved to outside the window ever so often. From here, you could see the main square - the market, Enforcers, students.

The watch around your wrist kept ticking away, reminding you that your break had already stopped a few minutes ago. A neat bookmark got placed between the pages of the book as you turned around, nearly dropping the hot beverage that you were holding.

Right in front of you stood a tall Enforcer. His face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back. You were nearly jealous of his posture - you must have looked idiotic with how hunched over you were sitting.

"Oh, Officer! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

The man slowly shook his head, his eyes set on you as you moved back to the counter, placing the book that you were reading back on its space. He took a step closer, his arms still behind him.

"What can I help you with today?"

He held out his hand, a small note hidden in the grip of his glove. A short list with some of the most specific books you had seen in a while. Even though you did not dare to ask him why he needed all of these, you could not help but try to theorize.

Maybe he was working on a weapon, or what if he went off into the wilderness and build a house out of nothing but sticks and mud?

"Ha, this might take me a moment to find. Would you like some tea, Officer?"

Quietly, he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. He just had his break - after bringing these books to Commander Kiramman, his day was basically over. Patrol for an hour, and then it was time for him to relax. Finally away from all the loud sounds of the city. But being in the empty library was not unwelcome, either.

"I will be back in a sec!"

It was much longer than a sec.

With every minute, you got more and more anxious. How could you keep an Enforcer waiting for this long? There was no one in the entire library! Your footsteps sounded heavy and you felt like every breath you took was one too loud. But, after fifteen minutes and lots of going up and down ladders, you finally found all the books on his list.

"And... Phew! This should be all," you wiped your hands, "Do you need help bringing it to... your office?"

Silently, the Enforcer shook his head again, reaching for the stack of thick books as he held them in his hands.

"Oh! What name can I put these on? That way I can remember, for next week!"

Next week? Oh, to return the books.

The man looked around him for a moment before his eyes fell on the small notebook next to you. He glanced at it as he looked back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment before going 'aha!', reaching for your notebook as you opened it on a blank page, handing him your pen. If you could have, you would have chuckled. A strong officer writing in your sparkly notebook with a neon-coloured gel pen.

He put the pen back down, nodding before taking one step back.

"Thank you so much. Till next time, Officer Steb."

Even with the interaction being a little under a week ago, you still had not moved on from it. His intense, blue gaze, his straight and confident posture. His handwriting even - it was immortalized in your notebook.

You found yourself looking for him through the windows, and while walking through the square, you would keep an eye out for his tall figure. 'He still has two days to return the books,' you thought to yourself. Most people even turned their books in late. But he was an Enforcer, so you highly doubted that he would.

Humming again as you placed the books back on the shelves, your cart now empty. Except for a few students in the far corner of the library, you were all on your own. You didn't mind - it left you with some time to finish up the essay that was due for tomorrow. So, with a sigh, you pushed the cart back to the counter.

There, in front of the small spot where you always sat, stood Officer Steb. It seemed to immediately lift your spririts as the cart suddenly felt much lighter.

"Officer Steb!"

His ears slightly moved back a little, not expecting your voice to suddenly pop up, but as he saw you, he gave you a nod.

"And, how did you like the books?"

He only nodded in return, placing the stack of books down on the counter. All of them had been put in alphabetical order - he must be an organized man. You pulled up his page, making sure that you had all the correct books as you nodded, scribbling down all the extra information before handing him the handwritten receipt.

"Could I do anything else for you, Officer?"

Steb was quiet - he was quiet often times. Out of his pocket, he fished another note with a few more books on it. The Undercity's History, a cookbook, 'Haircutting for Dummies!', and some more titles. You glanced up at him, trying hard not to let chuckles escape from you.

"Are these… All for you?"

You spot the tiniest shape of a smile as he shook his head. He tapped his Enforcer badge as you nodded, an 'oooh' as you looked back at the list.

"Be right back!"

This time, you found the books much faster. Not that Steb minded if you took a while - he enjoyed the library. He liked the books, the smells, the sun - you. Maddie offered to bring all the loaned books back to the library, but by the time she could even think about standing up, Steb was already out the door. The rest of the Enforcers shrugged it off as the man just wanting to spend some quiet time on their own. It was what he did.

But you.

How… Happy you always were. Cheery, but not overwhelmingly so. A bright flash of the sun through dark clouds. A stark contrast to his stoic demeanour, fire and water.

"There we go," you hummed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you pushed the cart back to the desk, "Can I put it under Officer Steb again?"

Hearing his name coming from you felt new, refreshing. He nodded, reaching over for the stack.

"Well, if you use the haircut book, let me know."

Steb snorted with a smile before clearing his throat, quickly standing back up straight before nodding. He was looking forward to next week.

For months, he came every single Tuesday, always around the same time. It must be during his break, or during his patrol. Only once had someone else shown up, Officer Nolan, as she introduced herself. She was nice and very talkative, so the two of you spent quite some time at the desk, chatting away. The week after that, Steb had written something extra on a note that he had stuck in a book.

'Sorry for Officer Nolan'

It had made you laugh.

Every week, the list of books would be different from the one before. Not only that, but the topics of said books could not be further apart. It was after a month of wondering that Steb answered the burning question that you had in mind. 'They are for the entire squad. They make a list, I get the books.' It made sense. So now, every week, you would try to guess which of the Enforcers would be reading which book. A fun little game, and thankfully Officer Steb would humour you, nodding or shaking his head depending on if your guess was right.

Over time, it felt like a friendship. More details of Steb came to the surface, and he would ask about your day. Favorite foods, hobbies, things you both hated. Officer Steb did not speak much, but he was comforting company. If bringing the book was his last task of the day, then he would stay at the library for a moment, starting the book that was meant for him. The last few times, you also placed a cup of tea next to him when he wasn't looking. It was like a challenge to see if he noticed you sneaking up on him - he did, but he would have never told you.

Today had been a bad day.

You slipped on your way to the library, there was a group of loud kids in the library, your head was pounding and you were not sure if you were feeling hot or cold. With a pack of tissues in your hand, you sniffed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The large windows and bright sun felt like a curse as you wished for nothing more than it to be dark outside. At least the group of rowdy teenagers had finally left.

When you heard the door open again, you nearly groaned in annoyance. If they returned, then you would have had no other choice but to hide in the back, away from the noise.

But after the creaking of the door, there was no other noise. You raised an eyebrow before lifting your head out of your hands, being met with no one other than Officer Steb.

"Oh, Officer Steb," you sniffed, your voice hoarse and odd-sounding due to your blocked nose, "I nearly forgot the date."

While usually dressed in his Enforcer uniform, he now wore something much more casual. You had never seen him outside of the dark blue and gold - the black and dark green suited him. Without his beret or helmet on, you could also see his hair. You wondered if he used the 'Haircutting for Dummies' book for it all those months ago. According to Steb, the book was not for him. His eyebrows creased as he scanned you, squinting his eyes.

"Yeah, not the best day," you shrugged, wiping your hand on your shirt, "But there is no one else to run the library, so… Me it is."

He quietly stared at you for another moment before gesturing to your notepad again. The sparkly cover held many pages of his handwriting - so many that it might as well have been his. You silently hand it over, your head aching with every move you make.

'Stay here, be right back'.

Steb turned on his heels, walking right down the hall and out the door. You only raised an eyebrow before looking over the stack of books and writing down all the information you needed. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back down in your chair, your fingers rubbing at your temples.

The Enforcer came back not long after, a small bag in his left hand. He placed it on the counter - as quietly as he could - which made you look back up.

"You're free."

Steb's voice was so different from what you imagined.

"I-" you frowned, "Excuse me, Officer Steb? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just Steb is fine," he looked away, "Commander Kiramman has contacted the owner of the library, your boss, and you have permission to leave now."

How had he done that?

Your bag was still packed, resting against the side of the counter, almost jumping in excitement that you got to go home.

"You are sick, yes?"

"I mean… Sadly so, I'm guessing."

He nodded, slowly reaching out to you before slightly raising an eyebrow. You breathed in, nodding as his hand made contact with your forehead. Cold, so cold. Your eyes almost closed at the sensation, the feeling of his cool fingers nice against your burning face.

Sadly, the moment ended all too soon as Steb reached into the small bag, pulling out an assortment of different painkillers and medicine.

"Once a day," he held up one of the packets, "Maximum of three a day, six hours inbetween."

He had gone out to get you medicine? You nearly wanted to start crying, your tired eyes and heavy limbs glad that they would almost be able to rest. Not to mention the bursting and pounding of your heart. Despite feeling horrible, a smile still formed on your face.

"I… Steb, thank you. I can't believe this."

He took your bag off the ground, waiting for you to lock everything up before exiting the library, side by side.

"Thank you again," you said, though it came out not nearly as loud as you thought it would have.

"Have to take care of my favourite librarian," his comment nearly made you fall over, though he would not have let that happen, "I bring you home, you take the medicine, and I see you next week?"

[bigbigpushes]

Surprise!

A one night with an absolutely stunning stranger named Nick nine months before had lead Maddie to this moment. She had gone out for some drinks and spent the night with a man she had met at the bar. They had both decided it would be a one time thing and after parting ways the next morning, she really had believed that that would be that. A few weeks later she had been faced with a positive pregnancy test and no way to contact the father.

She was now thirty seven weeks pregnant and checking herself into the maternity ward, Maddie had woken early that morning to contractions and her waters broken. She was taken into a room and allowed to settle in. She was holding her belly and rocking her hips through a contraction when the doctor and a nurse walked in. “Maddie?” She looked up, eyes widening in recognition, it was just her luck that the nurse about to help her through labour and delivery also happened to be the stunning stranger from that very night.

“I had no way to contact you. We never exchanged numbers. Or last names.” Maddie managed to say softly, the pain now passed. She sat herself down on the bed, taking a much needed moment to catch her breath. “Wilson. My last name is Wilson.” It was a shock to him to say the least, it wasn’t everyday your patient was someone you had slept with. “So it’s mine?” She simply nodded, biting her lip. She had been nervous enough about giving birth, to say this was adding to that would be an understatement. “She is, yes. Not that I’m expecting anything.”

Maddie watched Nicks face, noticing he was about to say something when she grabbed his hand before he had the chance. “Ohhh, fuck.” The tighten in her uterus built, the pain growing with it as she squeezed her eyes shut, groaning through it. She could lightly sense Nicks thumb rubbing at her hand as she clung to his, before the contraction faded, leaving her breathless. “Sorry. What were you about to say?” She asked once eyes opening as she tried to catch her breath. “Just that I would like to be involved. If you want me to. We can go over details when you’re not about to deliver. Do you want a different nurse to do this?”

She was surprised by how gentle his question came across, she quickly shook her head in response. It was then her doctor cleared her throat, “if he’s in here, it’s best if it’s not in a professional manner.” Maddie had almost forgotten she was there, sharing a quick look as he nodded in understanding.

A few hours passed and Maddie and Nick had spent the time between contractions getting to know one another better, both laughing at how absurd the situation felt. They were down to ninety seconds apart, the late afternoon sun shining bright through the window, “I chose a name already.” Maddie told him, she was pacing around her room now, sitting making her back hurt too much. “Annie.” She paused in her pacing and leaned forward against the bed, head pressed into the mattress as she let out a loud cry of pain, Nick had jumped up quickly, pressing against her hips and applying much needed counter pressure. “I feel like her head is about to fall out.” She managed with a breathless laugh as the pain passed.

“I’ll get the Doctor in.” A button was pressed and she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, it only took a few seconds for her doctor to come in, doing all the necessary checks. Another contraction built, bringing with it more pressure than Maddie had been expecting, she shifted uncomfortably, almost as if she were trying to escape it. Both Nick and her doctor were talking her through the pain but she couldn’t hear it, trying not to scream until the vice grip on her uterus let go. “You’re fully dilated, it’s time to push.” She was told gently, knowing that the pain was almost over was a relief.

“In my birth plan, I wanted to be on my hands and knees, can I still do that?” She couldn’t shake the fear from her voice, the worry of being told no. Sitting was agony and she had never wanted to give birth on her back. Getting the okay, she wasted no time in shifting, now on her knees, resting against the raised bed head, she felt the pressure building, she gave no warning, grunting with the pressure as she gave her first push, knowing it was what her body needed her to do.

From then on, all she could focus on was the desperate need to deliver her baby. The supporting voices of her Doctor and Nick were muffled as she continued to push through each contraction. Soon there was a burning sensation as her vagina stretched, Maddie reaching out with a shaky hand for Nick. “I can’t. I can’t do this, it hurts too much.” Nick managed to perch on the edge of the bed, his hand cupping hers, it didn’t matter that they barely knew one another, that their reunion had been orchestrated by the birth of their child, in that moment it was as if they had always known each other. “You can do this. You already are. Just pant for a little bit, let yourself stretch and then bring her into this world.”

A kiss was pressed to her head as she panted and cried through the next couple of pains, it was a relief when she was told she could push again, Maddie growling as she bared down once more. “The head is out!” She heard the doctor call out after a few more pushes, she reached between her legs, gasping as she felt a head full of hair, laughing a little as she looked at Nick. It didn’t take long, barely thirty seconds before she had to continue, their daughter refusing to wait as she pushed to bring the shoulders out, the rest of the baby’s body following into the arms of her doctor.

Maddie moved carefully as Nick helped her to turn around and sit down on the bed, their baby quickly being placed against her bare chest, tears of joy falling down her face. The two shared a look between them, a soft smile before their gaze fell to their daughter, their lives changed forever.

[myownwholewildworld]

iv. two inches - acta, non verba

chapter 3 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: will the stars finally align so you can have who you want? a/n: hiii! sorry it's taken me a month to update 🥲 after watching gladiator ii, i knew i had to come back to these two asap. as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings (spoilers): 18+, mdni. smut incoming. sexual tension galore. marcus jerks off to the thought of you. kissing. breast worship. mentions of past sexual trauma/marital abuse. the tip goes in. misogynistic views. infidelity. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin). marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. w/c: ~8.4k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

Niamh’s appearance had startled you, bringing you back to reality. For a second you had let yourself rejoice in the moment, in having Marcus—quite literally—on the palm of your hand. You had not intended on it going so far; on grabbing his manhood with resolution and pumping him with delight. His hardening dick had been so hard to ignore, you just gave in to temptation.

His initial reticence to not be touched was what had spurred you on. Marcus had attempted to reject your advances, although unsuccessfully. Him turning you down only encouraged you more, wanting to prove to him how badly he desired you, even if he tried to conceal his lust.

The sooner he realised he wanted you, the faster your plan would move along.

And by the Gods did he realise, his steely cock living proof of his appetite for you.

What you had not expected though was your own body’s reaction to Marcus’ undeniable desire. Your pussy had been gushing all along, each stroke on his girth unravelling something within you — especially when you hinted at the idea of slotting his cock between your lips to suckle on him. That simple thought sent a warm wave down your spine, your folds wetting almost instantly. In fact, you could still feel the dampness your thighs were harbouring for him.

And it was all part of your scheme, anyway. Eventually you planned on it happening — sooner rather than later, preferably. If you experienced a few orgasms thanks to him in the process… well, even better. The trash sex Iain had subjugated you to for a decade was the only thing you had known in the bedchamber — not once did you climax, yet many a times—if not always—you wailed in pain. Considering how your flesh had reacted to Marcus, perhaps the General would be useful in more than one way to you.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced at him over your shoulder — a quick peek through your lashes, your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

You were riding together on his horse, his arms tight around your shoulders pinning you in place. His bulge was pressing against the soft curve of your ass — no wonder your pussy was still laced with slick.

Knowing Marcus was in hell right now, you wiggled your hips back, the plumpness of your buttocks nuzzling his swollen groin. The General swallowed a groan, his arms tighter around your shoulders, and you smirked to yourself, feeling his erection hard pressed against you. Marcus had found no relief since Naimh interrupted you both and was still at full mast. And understanding that caused your insides to melt.

Truth be told, you would have liked to finish what you started. Not for his sake, but for your own. Making him come in your mouth would have partially put out the hellfire that burnt inside you, wreaking havoc in your seam.

The animosity between Marcus and Maximus shimmered in the atmosphere.

The Commander had only brought his own horse and yours had deserted you, which meant that, if you were to come back, you had to choose between the two Romans. Maximus had gracefully offered you to ride with him, and the mischievous sideways look he shot in Marcus’ direction didn’t escape you.

But before you could accept or decline, Marcus had mumbled something under his breath before ordering you to ride with him. Maximus was delighted with the whole exchange, and you understood that the Commander was actually teasing the General.

A little possessiveness wouldn’t hurt. It meant you were stirring Marcus in the right direction — yours.

You ventured another sneaky look at Acacius, your curiosity concealed by the cover provided by the trees.

His lips pursed in frustration, but his eyes distilled exhaustion. Marcus had lost enough blood to put a man to sleep for a week, but here he was, standing and conscious, away from Dhuosnos’ realm.

You had made sure of that, not only by mending his wounds, but also by killing one of the attackers. That ambush had left a crawling suspicion in the back of your mind, bothering and nagging. There was something weird about it all but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Maximus spoke, filling the silence and voicing your inkling.

“And you’re sure you didn’t recognise them, General?”

Marcus slowly shook his head again, his chest rubbing your back with the motion.

“No. They spoke that barb— uhm, the local language,” he muttered, briefly looking at you sideways, almost apologetic.

You knew how the original sentence was going to finish: that barbaric language. A reminder of who he was after all—your enemy. You shouldn’t lose sight of that, of the true purpose of your actions.

It felt wrong, how your lust awakened for none other than your enemy. Yes, you intended on bedding him, but your previous thought of getting Marcus to make you come now angered you. Your arousal felt like a betrayal to the memory of your family. You shouldn’t wet at the idea of fucking him — if anything, you should feel disgusted of your own reaction.

Straightening your back, you just rolled your eyes with disdain, letting him know of your annoyance.

“I’ll ask around, see what I can find out,” Maximus thought out loud, then glanced at you through the darkness. “Did you recognise any of them? Their accent?”

Slowly shaking your head, you grasped the saddle’s horn.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not sure they were from around here,” you explained, wondering if you were saying too much.

They hadn’t recognised you, which showed they were not your clansmen. But they were pretending to be.

You went quiet, your frown deepening.

“What’s bothering you, my lady?” Marcus’ breath caressed your ear, your skin bristling instantly.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly.

Too quickly.

“I’m sorry you had to defend yourself,” he whispered, his husky voice low so only you could hear him. “I should have paid more attention. I won’t let it happen again.”

Suddenly you realised he thought this was your first time killing someone. Little did he know, you probably had reaped as many souls as he had. You were no stranger to the battlefield — your father had taught all his children how to wield a sword, how to take a life. You learnt how to detach your soul from your body whenever someone’s life was cut short in order to preserve part of your humanity. It was the only way you could live with yourself, because it didn’t matter if they deserved it or not, it still gnawed at your conscience at night.

Marcus, on the contrary, seemed to be oblivious to how much pain his killing had caused. Had caused you.

Another reminder.

But then you realised what he had said. He wouldn’t let it happen again — a fissure in his impassiveness. Was he starting to care about you?

So you played on his protectiveness, on his words. Pouting lips, doe eyes and all, you nodded.

“I… I just wanted to protect you, Dominus. I was afraid he would hurt you,” you mumbled back, faking your fear for him.

The decade with Iain was paying off after all. To survive by your late husband’s side, you had to master the ability of make-believe, to pretend you were feeling ways you truly weren’t — afraid, amused, sad, happy, distraught, content. You had acquired the skills to feign a whole range of emotions, and this would be useful with the General.

He bought it.

“Don’t worry about me, Callie,” his voice was but a whisper, but that wasn’t what distracted you.

His broad—massive actually—right hand had landed on your right knee, squeezing it lightly, as if to soothe you; your suffering for having killed a man. His touch was light and brief, but long enough to leave goosebumps in his wake.

You were not sure which one of you were more taken aback — him because of his sudden show of worry, or you because of how that had made you feel.

“But I appreciate what you did back there,” he quickly added, clearing his throat, both of his hands gripping the leather reins.

“I would do it all over again, Dux Meus. For you.”

Perhaps you were buying it too.

Nay, can’t be.

The whole ride back to Inbhir Nis castle was literal torture. A tempting nymph on his lap, warm and inviting, was the last thing Marcus needed to worry about.

But instead of the last, you had become the first on a never-ending list of concerns. Curbing his desire for you had been a herculean task, one he did not accomplish. Because as soon as the door to his chambers closed behind him, he stripped himself of all his clothing.

The moment the jail of his armour was gone, freed from its heaviness and tight grip, Marcus sighed, just finding a miniscule relief.

The erection that you provoked him was as hard as a couple of hours ago, shaft throbbing against his happy trail. It had been at least two hours since you had worked him to this state of unsatisfied lewdness and now it was just damn uncomfortable to be at full mast.

A warm bath was awaiting him, and Marcus only took a second to dive in. The hot, milky water was welcoming, soothing his strained muscles. There were herbs floating around — rosemary, lavender and thyme, at least the ones his sense of smell recognised.

A scent that had hit him before, when he encountered you getting out of the garderobe a few weeks ago. Why did that aroma remind him of you? Why would you just not leave his mind? This thought of you lingering was dangerous, distracting. But so fucking alluring too — there was something about you, the mischievous aura you exuded, that reeled Marcus in.

It was intoxicating, really. No, you were intoxicating. And he just wanted to drown in it, in you.

Marcus grunted in frustration, one hand sinking under the water to find his heavy balls and massage them gently. His head tilted back, resting on the edge of the wooden bathtub, and his eyes squeezed shut when his imagination took him back to the moment you wielded his cock.

Now that the haze of his fainting had lifted, he should have shown himself some self-restraint to stop whatever this was. But he couldn’t, the memory of your tight grip too unravelling, too compelling.

So, in the privacy and safety of his bedchamber, he gave in to temptation. A last squeeze on his full testicles and then he was pumping his thudding dick to the thought of you doing exactly the same. His hand was your hand, and that was everything Marcus needed.

His thumb pressed on the slit, just as you had done. Then the bobbing of his hand picked up a faster rhythm, his free hand drifting down to hold his balls again, and Marcus jerked himself off while he envisaged you sealing your lips around his plump head, just as you had teased.

That was his undoing — you suckling on him, milking him dry with your mouth. Marcus could envision it perfectly: on your fours between his hairy, thick thighs, hand twisting on the base of his shaft while you sucked in his mushroom head, dick pulsing hard for you. And you glancing up at him with those green orbs — full, hypnotising eye contact, almost too intimate.

A few more strokes on his cock, imagination running wild, and he finally came. His breathing hitched and accelerated, becoming irregular, as his fist clutched harder around his girth. Spurts of white, tacky robes left his slit, his glans just peeking out of the water, and landed on his chest.

It took Marcus a couple of minutes to come down from his high. This was a new low for him, having to masturbate himself to the thought of someone because he was too horny to let it go. Too proud to ask you to finish what you had started. Too loyal to his cheating wife.

The last thought annoyed him, not wanting to think about Livia at this precise moment. He resented her, probably more than what he should. But her betrayal stung like fire licking on his skin, their holy matrimony reduced to a farce. For all he knew, he did not have any children of his own blood now. Marcus loved them equally though, but it still gnawed at him that he had been raising the children of another man unknowingly.

The life he had carefully built seemed to have crush down to its foundations. Marcus truly did not know what to expect upon his return. He had left abruptly, called by the Emperor and Agricola, with no time to discuss his family life with his wife. He didn’t think he could just go back to normal, not after what had emerged.

Being out here in the wild Caledonia, Marcus felt his life on hold, postponing the inevitable. But he couldn’t think about that now, not when he had so many tasks ahead of him.

Absentmindedly, Marcus cupped some water and washed the cum off his chest, watching it swirl around in the tub.

A knock, then the creak of the door as it opened.

His heart jumped and he quickly sat back up in the bathtub, water splashing as he did. He had forgotten to put on the latch.

He hoped to hell it was Atticus, at least.

“Dux Meus?”

Wrong, fucking wrong.

Had he thought of you so hard that he had willed your presence?

Your profile peeked through the crack in the doorframe.

“Can I come in, General?”

Your ask was a mere formality, because before he could say anything, you had already entered the room and closed the door behind you.

Marcus’ back straightened, his relaxed muscles tautening again in your presence. Could he have no moment of respite, when he would not be haunted by bewildering scents and suggestive lips?

For a brief second, Marcus watched you look around, taking in the details of the room. A big, four poster bed with translucent veils hanging from every side; the matching oak furniture; the vivid, colourful tapestries on the bare stone walls telling stories he never heard of; a wonky standing shelf with a small library, books he had flicked through at candlelight before bed; the rudimentary chimney where a fire burnt and crackled.

Because even in spring, the thick walls of the castle kept a cool atmosphere inside. The pyre warmed up the room, but Marcus thought the temperature shot up the moment you stepped closer to where he was.

“What are you doing here?” his question sounded almost accusatory, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub, knuckles whitening.

His wary demeanour didn’t put you off, light feet closing the distance with a smirk.

As you approached, Marcus couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of you. Your green skirt flowed around you, hugging your voluptuous hourglass figure in all the right places. Your red hair framed your delicate features, freckles dotted around your nose and cheeks on your moonlight skin. Cherry lips as plump as figs, reddened and curled up. Some flickering green eyes as fiery as the orange sparks in the flue stared at him with unknown intent. A marble neck that led the path to the esplanade of your collarbone, and then, right underneath…

His mouth watered, and his cock inevitably pulsed again. Your full breasts almost spilt over the low squared neckline of your dress, like sunny hills welcoming him home. Pebbled nipples greeting him. A deep cleavage so inviting, he could imagine pumping himself in between them, his glans just peeking through and kissing the center of your clavicle.

Another twitch in his groin made him steel himself and drawing a deep breath in to calm himself.

You crouched down, squatting right beside the bathtub, and placed one soft hand over his.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Dux Meus. That your wounds were not bleeding, and the stitches were holding up,” the concern tinting your voice felt real to him.

Marcus cleared his throat, tense.

“They’re all fine. My healer certainly knew what she was going,” he conceded, then remembered. “Except for the blunt tip of the needle. That I did not appreciate.”

You laughed and patted his hand a few times in jest.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure an acclaimed General like yourself can withstand a little bit of pain, Dominus,” you joked, long eyelashes batting at him. “But for that I am sorry, I had to work with what Naimh had at hand.”

“Thank you. For saving my life twice,” he whispered, almost solemnly. “I am indebted to you, Callie.”

You waved a hand to dismiss his gratitude, gifting him a crooked smile that quickly reached your eyes.

“You killed two men. I think we are even, Dux Meus,” you muttered back, a low, wicked husk that knocked him off his senses momentarily.

With the smile still painted on your round lips, your eyes slowly drifted down his chest. The milky water was murky enough so you wouldn’t see through it, wouldn’t see how hard he was getting again.

And then you bit and licked your lips, the grin almost fading as a darker, sensual expression transformed your face — a mesmerising gesture that forced Marcus to follow your sight. Then he saw what had caught your attention: his cum floating around, gathering around the herbs that scented the now lukewarm water.

A moment of silence stretched between you, his heart racing up as your gaze lingered on the water, as if you were hoping for his erection to peep its head out above it.

Your fingers reached down into the water; palm cupped to trap some of his wasted seed. It filtered through your fingers until it all fell back into the bath water. Swirling your fingers around, you grabbed a tiny bunch of rosemary, dragging it across the water until the small leaves caressed the exposed skin of his chest.

The summit of your tongue licking your bottom lip as your eyes locked intimately.

So fucking suggestive, Marcus’ breath hitched, close to losing his mind.

“Marcus,” you cooed, your wet fingers dropping the rosemary and lifting up.

Your hand slid to his, wrapping around his wrist, a warm touch that spiked his heart rate.

A thunder crawled under his skin the moment you guided his hand over to your bosom. You squeezed his hand, smoothing it over your lush left breast. He couldn’t help but cradle it, feeling the taut nipple grazing the thin fabric, rubbing his palm.

“Please,” you almost sobbed, moving his hand in circles over your boob.

To hell with everything. He shouldn’t let himself be distracted by the pleasures of the flesh during such an important campaign, but Marcus wanted you so badly — his new erection living proof of the desire that burnt for you.

Just one time, to satiate the caprice, and then he could go back to his duties.

Your mouth was agape, beckoning like a siren. And as he was about to relinquish to the temptation you offered, leaning forward, another knock on the door swept the moment away.

“Dominus, Commander Maximus necessitates your presence immediately,” Atticus forewarned him before his steps faded in the distance of the hallway.

Perhaps you despised Atticus more than you hated Marcus, and that was a feat to beat.

The universe was intent on your plan not taking form at all, otherwise you could not explain all these fucking interruptions. Another person might have taken the hint, but not you. Stubborn as a mule, you would not stop at anything — Marcus would fall in your tangled web, whatever the cost.

You only needed to remember to keep a cool head. Among the hatred, pleasure shimmered, and it certainly bothered you. How your body had a mind of its own and responded to his obvious desire, damp fold hidden away between your thighs.

It’s just an act, you reminded yourself.

But as much as you tried to convince yourself, your drenched pussy agreed to disagree.

Huffing and puffing, you went down the spiral staircase and sauntered towards the kitchens. You were in dire need of some light-hearted jest, and the old cook would help take your mind off things with his banter.

Cormag wasn’t there, just Isla and Brighid shuffling around the hearth, keeping it alive. The smoky smell filled the room, almost suffocating, and you coughed.

“That chimney is close to getting clogged,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Should put the fire out and get one of the helping lads to go in there and clean it out.”

Isla turned around, her head bowing down as a quick curtsy. They all really needed to stop doing that, even when no Romans were around.

“We can’t do that yet, mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, she replied, her hands busy kneading the flour on the counter. “Apparently there is a feast to be had tomorrow, one of the Romans’ birthdays. We’ve been asked to start the preparations for it, so will have to pull an all-nighter…”

Brighid voiced her discontent, crouched down by the fire, feeding it some logs.

“I don’t understand why we are wasting so much food on them. My family’s starving, we barely have any bread left, and these cu…” she quickly looked at you, embarrassed, but you nodded, encouraging, “these cunts eat like gluttons. Last night you were not here, my lady, but some of them even started throwing the food around at one another. Disgraceful.”

“Aye,” Isla agreed. “I had to pick up some unspoilt veggies off the floor. My nan has not had anything to eat for the last two days, she was worried that my siblings and I wouldn’t have enough to eat.”

Their struggles broke your heart. Not only because they were your clan, but because of the injustice of it all. No person should go to bed hungry, and these undesirable guests were forcing people to go without a meal.

You knew both of the maids, their families. Brighid’s son was three and had started to talk; her husband had returned with you from Raedykes and now was an amputee, trying to find a job to provide for his family. Isla’s parents had perished during the battle of Mons Graupius too, serving your father till their final days.

It was frustrating, but it was even more infuriating. Your hands were tied, and you could not wait to break free of your tethers. You looked forward to the moment this all would be over, that you could face a defeated Marcus Acacius and impart upon him the same misfortune he and his people left in their wake.

You stayed with them a little longer, helping out where they needed you to. A couple of hours later, tired and in need of your niece and nephew’s hug, you were flying by the hallways of the keep, heading back to your aunt Bonnie’s crannog, when male voices stopped you in your tracks.

The door to the great hall was ajar, Maximus’ raspy tone filtering through.

“Cassius’ henchman and some of his men went back to the spot where you were attacked. There were patches of blood on the grass, but the bodies were gone,” the Commander husked. “I find it weird, honestly.”

“So do I,” Marcus agreed. “I didn’t want to say it before, but one of them spoke in Latin to me. His accent was… definitely Roman.”

“That makes no sense,” Maximus replied, their voices clearer now. “What did he say to you?”

“Just ‘Die, bastard’. That was all, but I could tell he was fluent.”

“Leave it to me, I’ll see what I can find out.”

Heavy steps approached, and you knew they were close.

Picking up your skirt, you ran down the corridor, mixing with the shadows until darkness wrapped around you.

“What were you fucking thinking, Callie? You could’ve gotten killed!”

Torcall was not impressed with your outing, to say the least.

You rolled your eyes at him, arms folded. You shouldn’t have explained why you had been missing for so many hours, but you were not one to lie to your allies. Especially if they were family.

“I didn’t have a choice, Torcall. He saw me leaving and decided to accompany me. What should I have done? Tell him his gallantry was no longer needed because I decided not to go? That would have been so suspicious,” you reasoned, your own anger flaring. “And I was in no real danger, anyway. They were Caledonians.”

You downplayed that on purpose. They were Caledonians, aye, but they were really intent on killing you. You were still ruminating on that detail.

“And you killed one of them. For him. To protect the fucking General of Rome,” Torcall barked, teeth clenching. “Why didn’t you let them finish him? All of our problems would be over.”

His accusation, although deserved, enraged you. Even more so because you had thought exactly the same thing, and still decided to defend him.

“You’re so short-sighted, seriously. If I did, his entire army would have come hunt me down, ye eejit (idiot)!” You stood up, the legs of the chair screeching against the cobblestone. “Half of the castle saw us leaving together, I would’ve been the first one they suspected. And you know they tend to kill first and ask questions later.”

Torcall scoffed, fury distorting his features. But then a change of demeanour: he got up too and closed the distance between you two. For a moment he doubted, and then his arms wrapped around you, hugging you close to his chest.

The sudden proximity made you feel weird. Uncomfortable.

“I was just worried for you, Callie,” Torcall mumbled, his breath fanning over your ear. He leaned back, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “You’re like family to me. To my children.”

The intensity his eyes distilled caught you off guard. They were soft and pleading now, all his anger forgotten. And then they drifted down, landing on your mouth.

The whole atmosphere shifted, your heart beating wildly. Surely this all felt wrong to the both of you.

“You are family, Torcall,” you remarked. “You’re my sister’s husband, that’s actual family, not ‘like’ family.”

Your words carried meaning, and more than meaning — a subtle warning. A reminder too, of who he was and who you were to him. He shouldn’t forget himself. Torcall was your brother-in-law, and although pain had brought you closer these past weeks, it meant nothing more than that.

At least to you.

Torcall cleared his throat, his arms falling slack to his sides.

“Aye, I guess we are,” he sighed, pinched the bridge of his perfectly straight nose, and sat back down on the chair. “So, were they our brethren? You said they were Caledonians.”

You were relieved at the change of subject, the tension between you fading.

Nodding, you sat too.

“Aye, although their accent was not really from around here. But Acacius seemed to think they were Romans,” you added, your fingers drumming on the wooden table between you. “Think he’s wrong though, you can’t fake an accent like ours so easily. Do you reckon it’s got something to do with the attempt on the General’s life a few days ago?”

Torcall seemed to take a moment, contemplating his answer before he spoke. His eyes flickered for a second, his pupils a well full of doubts, something you thought odd.

“I don’t think so. They were just lads, highly doubt they could pull something like that off,” he commented, almost cautiously.

You frowned, eyes slightly squinting.

“They could be part of a larger group. You said so yourself, people don’t listen to reason when they feel threatened. Perhaps some of them have decided to take justice into their own hands. I never got a chance to speak to my cousins yesterday—”

“I did,” Torcall cut you off.

The wrinkles between your brows deepened.

“You did? You went to Bun Craobh?”

“Aye, had some errands to run,” he didn’t add any further explanation to that. “Ran into them and told them about your plan when I realised you hadn’t spoken to them yet.”

“That wasn’t for you to do, Torcall,” you replied, mildly infuriated at him for taking the liberty to do so. “What the hell did you tell them?”

“Nothing in too much detail, mainly because they’d try to talk you out of it the same way I did,” there was a note of reproach in his voice, one you decidedly ignored. “Just that you were planning on spying on the General to get details of their next steps.”

How you got to Marcus was none of his fucking business. Now you questioned whether you should have shared that information with Torcall or not, if he was going to fucking judge you at every step of the way. What you did and how you got what you wanted was entirely up to you. You hadn’t broken free from Iain to fall under the controlling hands of another man.

“Tiugainn (come on), Callie. I just told them enough so the word would spread that Murdoch’s only living daughter is planning on fighting back. Give the people a reason to hope,” he pleaded, sensing your anger.

“Aye, but next time, ask me. I don’t appreciate you bypassing me in these matters, not when I’ve got enough enemies at my doorstep.”

Marcus did not like all this unwanted attention. He was adamant this had been one of Maximus’ jokes, just to get on his nerves.

The General did not like celebrating his birthday. In fact, hated it. His wife would throw lavish parties back at home, wasting gold on unnecessary decorations and gifts — Livia would use any excuse to show off how full their vault was. Having made himself from nothing, Marcus understood how hard he had to work for each and every denarius to his name.

His most trusted Commander knew this and ignored it completely. He had mobilised the people of the castle to prepare a feast, food filling tables and wine spilling out of goblets in celebration. A fire had been lit in the big chimney presiding the great hall, white flower arrangements hung from the stone walls. There was even music being played in the background, the soft sounds of the lyre accompanied by a female voice who sang in Latin and praised all his conquests.

And what angered him most: there was a good handful of meretrices (prostitutes) lingering around. Most of them were local freedwomen, but others were slaves that Agricola’s men had brought with them. Marcus had not allowed his own army to bring any woman into this new land, needing them focused on the task ahead. Agricola was, on the other hand, very lenient in that respect — encouraging almost.

“How are you this beautiful afternoon, Dominus?” A sensual hum whispered in his ear tightened his muscles uncomfortably.

Looking over his shoulder, Marcus saw the blonde woman who had been eyeing him for a while. She was wearing a white toga, obviously one of the Roman slaves brought from overseas.

Unrequited, she sat on his lap, her round butt cheeks kneading his soft bulge, while one of her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Would you like a taste?” she asked with a bright smile, bringing a cup to his lips.

Marcus shook his head no, one hand stopping the chalice from getting closer.

“No, thank you. And I rather be left alone,” he told the prostitute, rejecting her advances flatly.

She just laughed, putting the goblet back down on the table. Then she leaned forward, her lips brushing the artery on his neck.

“Oh, we don’t really need to play this game, Master,” she whispered in his ear.

Unbothered by the suggestive talk and her pressing onto his lap, Marcus swept the great hall, a burning sensation in his chest commending him to.

Your eyes locked through the observing crowd. The green orbs that stared him down were filled with playfulness. Suddenly, that sensual wickedness transformed into brief anger, then disappointment.

It took Marcus a second to understand why you seemed upset. He had forgotten about the prostitute sitting on his lap, talking his ear off.

You stiffed, chin lifted up with disdain, and turned around with a wooden jug on your hands.

Fuck. Wait, no. It’s not what it seems, he wanted to say.

Marcus tried to get up, almost throwing the woman to the ground in his haste to get to you.

“I won’t require your services,” he politely declined when she looked at him in surprise.

“Oh…” her disappointment was visible, but it wasn’t the one he cared to soothe.

“Don’t worry, love, come here. The General seems in a hurry to leave. Some important matters, I wager,” Maximus extended his arm towards the blonde woman, inviting her onto his lap.

The sneering look Marcus threw Maximus’ way did not go unnoticed, his Commander laughing it off.

Ignoring him, he quickly walked off the dais, following your trail among the crowd. Your fiery red hair was like a beacon, one he followed to the main doors. A second later he was in the hallway and looked around, just in time to see you disappearing into the garderobe storing the wine.

Why he was following you, he was not sure. Why he needed to put your mind at ease, he was not sure either. All he knew was that the crushed expression you had given him stirred something within him.

In a few strides, he was right behind you, his hand holding open the wooden door to the garderobe.

“Callie,” he called you, your name rolling easily off his tongue, like a trained whisper.

Annoyed didn’t cut it, disappointed didn’t either. You were pissed. There you were, breaking your back to get Marcus to yield to you, for a prostitute to easily find comfort on his lap.

The man behind the façade was unknown to you, but you hadn’t taken him for someone who enjoyed his free time in the whorehouse. Judging by how his hand cupped the small of her back and how the blonde was basically licking his neck, you were mistaken.

You were not jealous though. Just pissed, that was it.

Mumbling to yourself, you had walked out of the great hall to refill the empty jug with his favourite wine, not wanting to see such a spectacle unfolding in front of you. The burning sensation in the pit of your stomach would eventually fade, you were sure.

Although the door behind you was open, the inside of the garderobe was pitch-black. Patting blindly in the dark, you found the open barrel.

As you were about to turn the iron tap on, the sound of your name made you jump on the spot. Your pulse accelerated and the jug fell from your hands, clattering on the stone floor. You didn’t need to look to know who it was — considering how your skin bristled and warmth pooled low in your tummy, you already knew.

“Fuck, Marcus!” you exclaimed when you turned around to look at him.

Your heart rate spiked again, for a very different reason this time.

He had followed you; he had left the prostitute behind to come look for you. That had to mean something. Perhaps you had a tighter grip on him than what you originally thought.

And that pleased you immensely, to your dismay. The butterflies in your belly should be fucking dead, not fluttering their wings in excitement. Your heart kept on pounding against your ribcage, even harder when Marcus entered the tiny room and swung the door behind him, leaving it ajar.

A sliver of light flooded in through the crack, just enough so you could make out his features and the hard lines of his body.

Suddenly, the garderobe felt extremely small with him inside too.

“It’s not what it seems. I wasn’t—”

“You owe me no explanation, Acacius. What you do or you don’t do, it’s not my business,” you cut him off with the right amount of bitter venom distilling from your tongue.

The General pursed his lips in frustration. A dose of his own medicine wouldn’t hurt him.

“It’s not like I’m waiting around for you to make up your mind,” you added, lying through your teeth.

But you were such a good liar, Marcus was none the wiser. He believed every word. His nostrils flared and his hands tightened into fists on his sides.

“What do you mean?” his raspy voice came out in a threat.

You cocked a brow, proud chin up.

“You know what I mean. Or do you need me to draw it down for you, so you understand?”

The provocation was, most probably, the last straw for him. Marcus almost snarled at you as he closed the distance. He grabbed both of your wrists with his thick fingers, yanked at them and pushed you into his chest.

The sudden display of anger took you by surprise. A pleasant surprise, especially when you noticed his swollen bulge pressing on your belly. Saliva pooled in your cheeks and slick in your pussy.

“I know that’s not true. You wouldn’t be so desperate—”

“I am desperate?” you laughed, the shaking of your tummy stroking the lump in his white toga. “You can fool yourself, Marcus, but don’t try to fool me.”

Marcus stiffened, pulling your wrists down and around his waist as his head bowed down to you, his lips ghosting over yours.

He was about to kiss you.

“You’ll be missed on the dais. I’m sure that blonde is looking for you. Is she the reason you are so hard right now?” you grumbled, your best attempt to get on the last of his nerves.

“She can go to hell. I want you,” he groaned, his mouth brushing yours.  Your pussy gushing some more. “You are the reason why I can’t get it down.”

Marcus didn’t wait for your sneering reply — his mouth crushed yours, teeth colliding. The tip of his tongue pulled your teeth apart and he laid waste to your mouth. The stroke of his tongue on yours tasted sweet, warm. It swirled around in your cavity, looking for a crack in your determination to remain impassible.

But you were only human. You had wanted this since the moment you came up with your plan to destroy the General — you would never admit it out loud though.

So, you gave in, your tongue responding to his with little whimpers as your hands laced together on the small of his back to push him into you, feeling his erection through the fabric. One you knew how big and curved and thick it was. One you wanted to know the feel of in the most intimate way possible.

Marcus moaned in your mouth, and you breathed him in, bewildered by his taste and the herby smell his skin gave off. Your throat let go of a similar quiet wail, as you stumbled back, your back meeting the cold wall behind.

The General kissed you fiercely, the same way he waged war upon his enemies — relentless. His hips grinded against yours, rubbing his bulge on you to get off while his lips abandoned your mouth to lick the marble column of your neck. He trailed the path of your vein, leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Then he brushed the point where your left breast swelled, and the tip of his tongue skidded through your skin until it found the valley of your boobs. He licked between them, both of his hands cupping them up.

“I need to see them,” he whispered, your skin bristling instantly as his thumbs travelled up and rubbed the visible nipples. “Been dreaming about them since I met you. Can I?”

You did not expect him asking for permission, not when you assumed that, as the conqueror he was, he only took with no consideration.

Nodding with half-lidded eyes, surrendered to your own desire, you let him pull the neck of your dress down until both of your breasts were spilling over the hem.

“Good Gods, you are beautiful”, he muttered, marvelled at the sight of your boobs. His thumb brushed your taut left nipple, and you shivered. “They are perfect, columba (dove). So round and so full and so—” Crouched down over you, Marcus briefly licked it. “So fucking tasty.”

With no warning, his warm lips sealed around the tight button, and you couldn’t help yourself but moan, your hands burying in the nape of his neck and lightly pulling from his silvery curls. Marcus sucked it in, his tongue twirling around the nub. Then the caress of his wet muscle was replaced by his teeth lightly biting on your nipple and tugging.

Perhaps the sweet scent of the wine filling up the garderobe messed with your senses, with how you perceived the intensity of it all, of him.

You sobbed loudly, your cunt drenching and beating in response. Pressing your knees together, you wondered if this was how it was meant to be — how sex should feel every time. Warm, desperate, slick, needy. Because if this was it, if this was how it was supposed to be, you could never have enough.

A rush of wet warmth dripped onto your woollen loincloth, your lower belly inundated with a coiling feeling unknown to you — like a tense bow ready to fly an arrow.

Marcus’ right thumb found your unattended nipple, stroking it slowly as his devilish mouth devoured your other boob like a man starved. His tongue flicked and rippled against the tiny lump between his lips while his hips rutted into you, your dress and his toga impeding the contact you most craved.

“By Mars I swear you’re so fucking perfect,” he managed to say between licks before moving on to your other tit.

The General repeated the same process again and your legs trembled with elation. Tilting your face up, you massaged his scalp, soft moans slipping from your plump lips. His smothering tongue was so persuasive, lapping at you with precision, your mind went numb with pleasure. The coil in your belly tightened harshly, so much so you had to bite down your bottom lip to stop yourself from screaming his name.

Your damp pussy pulsated, another wave of slick wetting the pearly skin between your inner thighs.

“Marcus, oh, God,” you whispered, short of breath — your heart pounding in your ear drums, deafening.

“Let go for me. Come for me, sweetheart,” Marcus whispered before attacking your nipples again, one with his mouth and the other with his thumb.

His clothed cock rubbing low, right between your thighs. The roughness of your underwear abrasing your begging, writhing clit.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The overwhelming sensation between your legs was too much — your leaking cunt wanting to find release. And it did: the coil inside you finally snapped, warmth and dew soaking you. All your limbs went slack as you felt the last wave of your climax washing over you.

Then absolute peace, your brain numb with your first experience of an orgasm. Now you understood what other women whispered about when the men were away.

Speechless, you laid back against the wall as Marcus towered over you, a satisfied grin curling his lips.

“You’ve done so well for me,” his praise fell like sugary water from his lips, the palms of his hands cradling your face as he pressed his erection against you.

His tongue flicked between your lips, coaxing them apart, and you obliged. A soft, almost puritanical, kiss pressed on your mouth before his lingered to your cheek, then your ear.

“Callie, please, I need to fuck you,” the inflection on the word need made you whimper.

Unable to still find the words, feeling all mushy and heavenly, you nodded.

The sigh of relief that bubbled up Marcus’ chest would have made you laugh in other circumstances. But there was nothing laughable about this, about two people chasing the highest of highs.

“Praise be to the Gods,” he prayed at your acceptance, his broad hands landing on your hips to turn you around.

The cold stone wall greeted your nipples, the General pinning you against the wall with your back leaned on his hard chest. Tilting your hips back, your ass sweetly nuzzled his swollen groin, then his hands rode up the skirt of your dress, exposing your loincloths.

You gasped when Marcus pushed your underwear down to your knees slowly, his fingertips dragging along your velvety skin.

“I just know you’re gonna take me so well, mel (honey),” he purred in your ear, cupping your naked buttocks. “So, so well.”

The side of his hand slid across the fold between your ass cheeks until it found the dampness you harboured for him.

Marcus groaned in your ear, and you reciprocated, his touch so welcomed your clit twitched in response.

“Marcus, please,” you implored, eyes shut and mouth agape.

“I know, mel, I know.”

His clothes rustled behind you and knew he was naked from the waist down. Tempted, you looked over your shoulder just to confirm your suspicion, and your knees almost gave way. Pearls of precum topped the plump head of his throbbing cock, his hand holding it from the base.

As beautiful and tempting as last night, his dick twitched in need. Marcus stroked himself in a feeble attempt to calm himself. Leaned towards you, his lips nipping the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your sensitive skin, and you whined in desperation.

Guiding his thudding cock between your thighs, you felt it drag across your seeping furrow, wetting himself with your slick. The warm touch of his shaft along your puffy lips made you moan uncontrollably, back arched and your butt pressing onto his lower tummy.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to feed it to you slowly,” he husked, voice raspy with want.

You wept some more, his cock sliding through your seam easily and freely. His mushroom head hitched on your clit, and then slipped back down to your entrance, catching too. Marcus pushed in ever so slightly, just half an inch, and your head tilted back, resting on his shoulder.

Another half an inch and then you felt it: the trained reaction of your inner walls clutching, not wanting to let him in. Years of abuse had taught your body to put up a fight, to squeeze your hole shut so your late husband wouldn’t hurt you.

You fought with yourself, asking your pussy to let Marcus in, as he intruded another inch.

He felt your hesitation, your inner struggle.

“Relax, columba, you’re too tight,” he groaned behind you, one hand sliding across your hip to your belly and diving between your thighs. Two of his thick fingers caressed your clit, the flick of them over your bundle of nerves softening your body. “That’s it, sweetheart, relax. I got you.”

Your inner walls loosened up ever so slightly as Marcus rocked his hips back and forth behind you, fucking you with just his tip. Easing his way in, helping you calm down as only his throbbing, leaking head pumped in and out of you. He was only feeding you a couple of inches, your pussy hugging him extremely tight as he did.

“Too damn tight,” he whispered, and you knew he was grasping for control, the pulsing of his cock rhythmic with the gentle petting of his fingers on your clit.

“Marcus, I can’t—”

Perhaps the trauma your husband had inflicted upon you reached further down than you thought. What a fucking moment to realise that.

“Shhh, it’s fine, it’s okay, mel. I’m more than happy with just the tip for now,” he reassured you, soothing your nerves. “Anything you give me willingly, I’ll take.”

True to his word, Marcus kept on fucking you with just the first two inches of his thrumming dick while his fingers worked your clit with expertise. Not too long after, your felt that burning, coiling sensation converging in your swollen pussy again, your cunt smothering Marcus’ tip even more.

“Oh, fuck, melculum (my little honey)… Come for me again, yes, come all over me,” he moaned in your ear.

At his command, you let go. A rush of liquid fire lapped at your pussy, then leaked over Marcus’ erection as you shrieked. Gathering your ridden-up skirt around your waist, Marcus wrapped one of his strong arms around you to keep you standing on your feet, rutting into to shallowly so he wouldn’t feed you more than two inches.

His cock pulsed hard in your entrance, a gruffy groan rumbling in his chest, almost tearing his throat apart. Marcus pulled back quickly, leaving you empty, and the tip of his cock rested on your left buttock as he jerked off.

A minute later, his warm white seed sticked to the skin of your round globe, dripping to the floor when it got to the cliff of your ass cheek.

Marcus kissed the back of your neck, both of you breathless and sweaty.

The first time you both found relief, together.

“You’ve done so well, mel,” he lauded you again, pulling your loincloth up.

You felt exhilarated, high and fucked out. Numb and spent. Satisfied.

You hoped he was too. He hadn’t been able to bury himself deep down in you, but you hoped you had been enough.

All the bravado you had showed him so far faded, a carefully built façade, and you felt slightly insecure with what had just happened.

“Marcus, I—”

Suddenly, the door to the garderobe swung open.

Marcus reacted quickly, pressing you against the wall some more and his hand placed against the wall, his arm blocking your face from the sight of the unwanted guest. His entire body along with the darkness shielded you from being recognised.

“Oh, Ò DHÌOL (oh my god)! Tha mi duilich (I’m sorry), General, tha mi cho duilich! (I’m so sorry),” you identified Brighid’s panicky voice and even though you couldn’t see her, you knew she blushed.

Then the door slammed shut.

Both of you started laughing.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[felassan]

Some snippets from DA dev Luke Barrett on the unofficial BioWare forum, cut for length:

DA:I -

User: "I am still convinced that Bioware cut the healing spells and went with barriers instead because of the Multiplayer." Luke Barrett: I can't speak to any other games directly but I can give a bit of historic context for DAI. The game was initially a more dungeon/linear delving - see how far you can get - experience and there was no barrier of any kind. As a side note: healing has always been a hot topic in design because as soon as you include it there are many other conceits you now need take into consideration for the gameplay - one of which I will call 'the Anders problem'. Anyway, as DAI got the date moved and shifted more into the pseudo-openworld the concept of attrition (see how far you can get before having to return to camp) became less relevant and we needed to help the Players have more moment-to-moment agency around their survival. Unfortunately for various reasons (one of which is the sad reality of designing a game with a shifting timeline) the healing couldn't be re-added so we ended up with more of a mitigation strategy in the barrier system. It went through a lot of iterations but eventually landed on what it shipped with which I would call... acceptable (but just barely). Now, I will concede that a part of the reason it didn't return after that shift was an aversion to holy trinity gameplay specifically for MP but it wasn't the core reason. As a side story, trying to balance the game (as that was my job on DAI - and yes, it could be much better haha) we had to all but force Players to take barrier. It is intentionally the first skill in the first tree for the Mage and all the autolevel (I also handled that) is designed to get it right away." [source]

User: "Merry Christmas Luke! Sooo what was the hardest class you had to balance? [DA:I]" Luke Barrett: "I feel like anyone who was around for the post-launch content will already know the answer to this as it was the bane of my existence when I got put exclusively on MP after launch but the Knight-Enchanter barrier absorbing was a pain. Stuff like that is very challenging to feel good without being broken as they are relative to damage so scaling is fairly open-ended. Too little and the casual players won't get use out of it, too much and the character builders will be wildly OP. We actually had a 'no nerfing' guideline for the SP side so it was a hard battle to fix that silly thing 🙃." [source]

"As a fun fact, I did all the logic for autolevel on DAI and the guideline I was given was literally "make functional builds, but don't make something optimal that you'd play"." [source]

DA:TV -

User: "If you can, say thanks to the people making the no die option possible." Luke Barrett: "Done! My team handles this stuff so I let them know 😊" [source]

"Comically, I designed the majority of the items and skills and I am still finding it fun making awesome builds (been almost entirely doing playthroughs lately" [source]

"Was really important to the team that everyone could play the way that felt best to them." [source]

"Each specialization has a focus around a few specific mechanics, some of which are the weapons or damage types but you can go off script and make it work for sure (this was intentional in the designs)." [source]

"I designed all the skills and so they're each enjoyable to me to some extent. I have been playing through the game over and over the last couple months for balance purposes so I've played them all fairly extensively." [source]

User: "Necrotic sounds like it could be either Spirit or Nature." User: "For Rogue, it replace "poison". For Mage, it replace spirit (Spirit bomb). For Warrior, it's more spirit (especially Reaper), but some skills could work as poison too. So basically they merged spirit and nature." Luke Barrett: "Thats pretty close to spot on. They were actually heavily iterated on throughout development - I can't (at least currently) go into specifics as to why though." [source]

"the target for the progression vision is that you can make a viable build out of almost** any aspect of the gameplay." [source]

"As for timelines, We started DA4 in October of 2015 roughly. The entire team was moved to MEA for about 3-4 months to help it ship and I also spent all of 3 weeks helping out on Anthem. But otherwise I've been on some incarnation of DA4 for about 9 years now - pretty ready for it to release 😅." [source]

"yes, years of working on the same thing can cause some burnout but I've played through the full game probably about 8 times in the last few months and it's still fun (though some of the specific levels that haven't changed in a long time I've done 50+ times easily and I could do without ever seeing them again 😂)." [source]

User: "I do kind of feel that at this point the DA team has put so much work into creating and improving their tools and learning the ins and outs of Frostbite [...] But who knows what the devs in the trenches really feel" Luke Barrett: "I will say it does some things very well and some things poorly, relative to other engines. Personally I really enjoy Frostbite but I've been using it since 2012. In an ideal world, many engines would be viable and developers would make games suited to the strengths of a specific engine." [source]

User: "Since this game is much more stat heavy than prior titles, specifically when it comes to skills and gear, there's likely a need for some balance changes to be made post-launch. Does the game being playable completely offline hinder the data capture side for your team (in terms of analytics), or is this a non-factor?" Luke Barrett: "Generally speaking, most people leave data analytics on so we get more than enough data coming in. Additionally, I'll personally be watching several channels for things that are underperforming (relatively speaking) and not have to nerf anything. The rpg side is vast though and I'm sure people will find OP combinations/synergies that might need 'adjustments' but as long as it's fun and not an "I win" button that trivializes combat I'm pretty cool with it." [source]

Luke Barrett: "I can safely say there are many builds for each class that will feel very powerful if you're not on the highest difficulty 😉. What I'm really excited for is when the guides comes out that show people the fastest way to get some of the uniques that unlock 'special' gameplay 😊. Let's just say I love the feeling of rushing to Patches in DS1 and kicking him off the bridge for the Crescent Axe (iykyk)." [source] User: "Speaking of guides. Will there be a guidebook like there was for DAI? " Luke Barrett: "Not that I'm aware of but I'm happy to help feed info to somewhere like fextralife or the dragon age wiki after a week or so to help with those pursuits. Have to leave some time for exploration and discovery before the optimizers streamline the experience 😉" [source]

"Effectively, at least until the game launches (and likely a week or so after), you won't get anything interesting out of any of the devs save Mike Gamble or John Epler. Longer term I hope to be very active, at least for build mechanics and all the combat/rpg nuts and bolts conversations." [source]

"I started "da4" in October 2015 and so after 9 years of effort (minus 3 months on Andromeda) I'm quite excited for tomorrow and the launch week. I don't know if I'd say nervous, I feel pretty confident in the product, but definitely that eager kid before Christmas feeling 😊" [source]

"As the person who did all the balance, I will say that if you are comprehending how to make a cohesive build and understand the combat mechanics, you should play on Underdog. One of the downsides to having a lot of power growth vectors is the difference between people who engage vs those that don't becomes a chasm quite quickly. If you start blowing enemies up rapidly, turn up the difficulty (or play on nightmare where that will not be the case) - basically if it ever feels super easy or like enemies are health sponges you're probably on the wrong setting for your skill level. The custom difficulty settings are there to make the gameplay enjoyable (for whatever that means to you)." [source]

"As a tip from me, the balance is subtly tipped in the players favor until the last fight of the 3rd combat mission. Be warned if it's feeling too easy you may want to wait until after that to decide." [source]

[on DA MP] Luke Barrett: "It was actually pretty fun but very much not what most people wanted us to make (including internally). Also we had, let's say, limited staff who had a passion and background in MP so it was definitely the right call to go SP only. Now, it would have been nice had we just started that way but so it goes sometimes." [source] User: "You still play it yourself from time to time (DA MP), or have you left it be?" Luke Barrett: "After playing variations of DA4 for so many years (9!!!) it's hard to go back to anything with DAI controls/gameplay speed. Even the initial Joplin prototypes I was doing were much more snappy/twitchy - for everything good about DAI the combat was definitely in the middle of two different styles." [source]

[on aiming bows] "we actually used to have separate buttons for ADS and ranged attack but it was wildly overloading the controller. These RPG games need controllers with at least 2 more buttons (fingers crossed for the next gen)" [source]

User: "After the last few games, I'm really surprised by the current skill... tree?" Luke Barrett: "I call it a skill graph - aside from the beginning where you have 3 choices the entirety of it is 2 choice splits and it'll essentially make a build for you. Just go a little at a time and aim for whatever specialization seems most fun to you 😄" [source]

"Loot is not random so theoretically guides with drop locations should appear pretty soon." [source]

"Yep, Spellblade is the only spec that directly impacts fire damage but you can get benefits from most of them and still go fire. As for the specs, yes it would have been nice to support all of them but just wasn't in scope unfortunately. Mage has Mourn-Watch, Shadow Dragons, and Antivan Crows specializations - only the Rogue has a Veiljumper one. Deathcaller left side you can go beam based and use a Fire weapon. Evoker you'd likely need to do a hybrid ice/fire build." [source]

User: "Bit of a side question, but for those who intend to make more characters, is BioWare considering upping the amount of playable character slots you can have (currently at 3)? Or is there a hardware restriction here given the game is offline playable?" Luke Barrett: "Don't quote me as I don't handle the technical side of this but my understanding is we have to allocate a specific amount of HD space on the consoles so we basically have to pick a limit, relative to our save file sizes, and then divide that by number of careers. I'll inquire if this is something we can increase with an optional download or something but I suspect consoles are stuck that way, unfortunately." [source]

[on Patch 1] "It's been awhile since I actually did the content for this patch so I'd have to check but I have a pretty anti-nerf policy for SP games. I know I fixed up a couple enemies that weren't as hard as they were supposed to be and definitely boosted a bunch of synergistic things though. I'll take a look tomorrow but for those that don't know, the turnaround time on these things is about a month of it's not an emergency due to certification process with consoles. Longer term my goal is to keep an eye in telemetry of any underused abilities and items (or enemies with too many kills under their belt) and audit them just to double check if they need a boost or if people just haven't figured them out yet 😉." [source]

"The equippable items are all predetermined with a minor exception*. Some items are class specific (all the weapons, a small amount of armors and accessories, 2 runes) so when you play a different class you'll see your classes 'version' of that item. Things that are random (from a table/pool) are valuables. Exception: Near the very end of the game we do a few checks on what equipment you haven't acquired. A bunch of those final drops, and inventory on the final merchant, simply find stuff you don't have and give it to you. That's basically the only major RNG we have with loot. If you notice even 99% of the skills and item mods employ an effect after a condition is met X times rather than a more traditional 'proc chance'." [source]

[on modding] "Once this starts to pick up, feel free to PM me if anyone needs help 'finding' assets or has questions about how one might mod something. We don't officially support mods buuuuut we don't have any kind of anti-modding stance either" [source]

"To give the high level gist of the resource economy: - each class starts off with minimal ability usage, this is intentional to force people to learn the other combat mechanics as they're a necessary skill and it's easy to lean on a crutch like ability spam and kiting - abilities are designed to feel powerful on use, thus they all have a decent cost and can't be spammed* - weapon attacks generate your resource - in the bottom right of the center skills area is a node to make each class's resource easier to manage - halfway down all starting segments (N, SW, SE) there is always a node that boosts generation - there are +max nodes on all sides of the skill graph for each class, this is particularly important for the Mage as they start each fight at max - each class can build into being ability focused but starts intentionally rounded - loastly, the first ability is always a resource spender and 1 or 2 of the next available ones will be cooldown gated. It is recommended to have at least one cooldown based ability slotted" [source]

"So loosely the rogue momentum works like this: - each ability costs 50 momentum - hitting enemies generates ~2 momentum per hit (base), you get extra for bow weakpoints - when you are directly hit, you lose 15% of your current momentum, this means the more you hold the more you will lose (this loss has a small cooldown so you don't lose a whole bar when you get hit rapidly) - momentum carries forward between combats (compared to warrior rage which decays when out of combat) If youre having issues, make sure you get that skill in the middle section that reduces momentum loss when hit. As a helpful tip, the Quicken buff generates small amounts of momentum each second so it's a good way to get more if you're having issues." [source]

"I highly recommend using the belt that grants Quicken early game until you can generate momentum faster yourself. And yes, the time dilation affects everything in the world except the Player so all your buffs and things still tick at normal speed" [source]

User: "If I knock an enemy off an edge, if they were supposed to drop something will it appear on the edge, or is it lost for good?" Luke Barrett: "It should appear on the ledge. I will say the 'real' loot from enemy drops are all hand placed. The actual random stuff is just valuables and materials." [source]

" The way it actually works is very complicated with a lot of necessary exceptions but loosely - each ability has a base damage and ones that hit multiple times have an offset multiplier. - That value is multiplied by the sum of all your stat bonuses, conditional bonuses, resist and layer modifiers. - We then subtract enemy defense and multiply by 1-resist (with penetration being calculated here). - this new damage then gets multiplied by 1+crit+weakpointpoint (so those bonuses always feel meaty) and then multiplied by a random number between .95 and 1.05 just to give a little range to the floaties (basically just a presentation thing) - we then multiply again for buffs and debuffs so they, again, always feel meaningful - lastly, we take all added damage and add it flat on top" [source]

"Specific enhancements make enemies immune to the matching affliction. For example, Fire Enchanted enemies are immune to burning. Juggernaut enemies are immune to being staggered but otherwise it should work in everything." [source]

[girllblogging777]

Pls pls do something where the reader has lots of friendship issues, and doesn’t manage well and gets upset and stressed and panicky and Mattheo/theo are super calming and know what will help y/n

𝐻𝑂𝐿𝐷 𝑀𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝐸𝐴𝐷𝑌

↳ mattheo riddle/theodore nott x reader (platonic)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.8k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : your life is lowkey shitty but at least your best friends are here for you

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it was one of those nights when the castle felt suffocating. the walls felt like they were pressing against you, the whispers from earlier circling around in your head like vultures. you had been running from them all day but there was no escaping now. not in the silence of the library, where even the dust motes seemed to have something to say.

you were sitting at a table tucked into the farthest corner, your hands trembling as you tried to focus on the parchment in front of you. a transfiguration essay, but the words were blurring, dissolving into thoughts of your friends. well, former friends, maybe. girls who once knew your heart better than you did, but who barely looked at you now.

how had it happened ? one day, everything was fine. the next, cold stares, missed invites, whispers cutting through you like a blade. you had already replayed every interaction, trying to find where it all went wrong. were you too distant? too blunt? did they tire of you the way you feared they would?

“there she is.”

you flinched at the voice, your panic catching you off guard. but it didn’t take long for you to recognise it. low, measured. calming in a way few things are. theo.

he stood across from you, his bag slung over one shoulder and his tie slightly loose. his gaze flicked to your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white.

“you’re doing it again,” he said softly, dropping his bag onto the chair next to you.

“doing what?” you answered with a strained voice, even as you tried to force calmness into it.

“spiraling.”

you opened your mouth to deny it but he raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning your face. there was no point pretending. not with him. not when theo nott has known you since you were children, when scraped knees and shared secrets were all that mattered.

you exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through your hair. “i just… i don’t know how to stop.”

theo didn’t push. he never did. instead, he sat next to you, quiet and steady, like he had always been. the library felt a little less oppressive with him there, like he was anchoring you to something real.

moments later, another presence swept in. louder, more chaotic. mattheo riddle. you didn’t need to look up to know it was him. your other best friend moved with a certain energy that was hard to miss, all storm and smirk.

“i knew you’d be here,” mattheo said, dropping into the seat across from you. “you’ve got that look.”

“what look?” you muttered, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“the ‘i’m-about-to-break-down-and-won’t-tell-anyone’ look,” mattheo grinned, though there was nothing teasing in his eyes. “but we know you better than that.”

he was right. they both were. and somehow, that made it harder to hold everything in. your voice wobbled when you spoke again. “it’s stupid. it’s just… the girls. it’s like everything’s changed, and i don’t know why.”

mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “girls are complicated. too much drama.”

“helpful,” theo muttered back, shooting mattheo a glare. but mattheo just shrugged, his grin softening into something kinder.

“i’m serious, though,” mattheo said. “they’re not worth this. not if they’re making you feel like this.”

“but they were my friends,” you whispered, your throat tightening. “i don’t know what to do without them.”

after a couple seconds of silence, theo spoke up. “you don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

“exactly,” mattheo added, his hand reaching across the table to squeeze yours. “and you’ve got us. always.”

“but—”

“no buts,” theo cut in gently. “we’ve been through worse together. remember that time in first year when you thought you’d failed potions and locked yourself in the broom closet?”

mattheo snorted, his chocolate eyes glimmering. “and i had to break the door down? you were crying about how you’d ‘never amount to anything.’”

“and theo told me i was being ridiculous,” you murmured, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “then you both stayed with me until i stopped panicking.”

“we’ll do that every time if we have to,” theo said firmly.

“you’re stuck with us,” mattheo grinned, leaning back in his chair. “so, how about we ditch this depressing library and sneak out? fresh air might clear your head.”

you hesitated, the weight in your chest still lingering. “we’ll get caught.”

“you worry too much,” he answered with a shrug, standing and grabbing your hand. “live a little.”

“besides,” theo added, standing as well, “you’ll feel better when you’re not trapped in here.”

“okay,” you whispered before letting them pull you to your feet. “let’s go.”

outside, the cool air filled your lungs, washing away the tightness in your chest. theo walked beside you, his presence calming, while mattheo cracked jokes that weren’t funny at all, but made you laugh anyway.

and for tonight, that was enough. with them, it always was.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : quick little drabble for you guys, hope you enjoyed it !

tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list ! @redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp

[earthchica]

Can't Hide Love

terry richmond x black, fem! reader

summary: you're afraid of getting hurt and denying the love you feel for Terry, so you reject him when he confesses his feelings for you, but later, you might regret that decision.

warnings: light angst, jealousy, playing mind games, use of the n-word, explicit smut (18+), dom/sub, thighjob, daddy kink, choking kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, friends to lovers, nicknames (shorty, lil mama, baby, baby girl), words: 2k

note:

sequel to I Want You

-

You and Terry sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, the morning sunlight streaming through the window and casting a warm glow on your plates.

As you both chewed your breakfast, an unspoken tension filled the air, making the clinking of cutlery sound almost deafening. You couldn’t help but notice how Terry's eyes held yours, their intensity unyielding.

After an eternity, you decided to break the silence, leaning forward slightly as you finally said, "Last night was real fun but it can't happen again."

Terry clenched his jaw and looked at you, confused. "Wait, what, why?" He asked, his voice earnest and searching, his eyes trying to uncover the truth.

"I mean… if you think I only want sex, then you're mistaken. I like you a lot, shorty. I've felt this way for a while now and would love to take you on a date.” He added.

His expression shifted as he processed your confession. “I like you too, Terry, but…” Your voice trailed off, thick with hesitation and unspoken feelings.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “I just don’t think I can handle anything more than what we have; let's stay friends,” you finished, hoping to keep things uncomplicated.

Terry's disappointment was noticeable, and he tried to conceal the hurt rising in his chest. He nodded as if he understood, even though every part of him wanted to question your rejection.

“Okay!” he said with a shrug, quickly finishing his orange juice to mask his feelings. He moved to the sink to clean his plate, the sound of clinking dishes filling the silence between you.

You were taken aback by his reaction. “Okay, that’s it?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you crossed your arms, a mix of disbelief and concern surfacing within you.

Terry turned his head slightly, a blank look on his face. “What do you want to say?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in genuine curiosity. You took a breath and shook your head. "Nothing."

The two of you left at that, and a few days went by after you rejected him. You were busy preparing for your art gallery opening, feeling excited and nervous.

When the event finally kicked off, you scanned the crowd hoping Terry was coming to at least to support you. Your heart skipped a beat when he walked in with a bouquet of roses.

“Yo, look who made it!” Terry called out with a broad smile, and you felt a rush of warmth. Terry approached you and hugged you quickly before pulling away and handing you the bouquet.

“These are for you. I’m proud of you, shorty, for real. These pieces are dope.” Terry said, honestly looking around at your artwork and your heart fluttered.

“Oh, thank you, Terry. It means a lot to have you here, I thought you weren't coming after, you know,” you replied, trying to keep it cool despite the knot of mixed feelings in your chest.

"Hey...despite that, we're good!" Terry said, reassuring you and placing his hand on your shoulder. You smiled brightly, moving your eyes away.

You waved your assistant over, who wasn't too far away to take the bouquet to you before going back to Terry. “Come on, I want to show you my favorites,” you said, leading him through the gallery.

As you walked, you pointed out different pieces. “This one is inspired by the culture of New Orleans. I wanted to capture that moment of the people.”

Terry nodded, genuinely impressed. “I see you, shorty! That’s hot!” You smiled and continued to show him your work, each piece sparking a conversation-filled detailed explanation.

Finally, you stopped before a special painting that you had kept hidden. “And this one,” you said nervously, “is for you.” As Terry looked at the painting, his eyes widened.

It was a portrait of him, perfectly capturing his eyes and bright smile. “Wow, you painted me? I don't remember you asking for permission to use my likeness,” he joked, grinning widely.

“But I'll let it slide because this is really dope, girl. You really outdid yourself. You’ve got me looking good!” Terry remarked, studying the details closely.

Your heart fluttered as you replied, “Thank you. I'm glad you love it; it means a lot to me.” Terry nodded and stepped back, admiring the piece fully with a playful smirk.

“You once said you only paint intimate pieces like this when you’re in love. So, what does this mean?” he asked, looking into your eyes, searching for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him. “Terry, this isn't the time or place.”

He stepped a little closer, a teasing grin still on his face. “Come on now, don’t act like I ain't onto something here. You gotta admit, this painting is special—just like us.”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “For real, Terry, drop it.”

“Why you gotta be like that? You know deep down you love me,” he said, his voice earnest but still playful. “I mean, who else you gonna paint like that? You had that canvas waiting just for me.”

You laughed softly, but it was a nervous laugh. “It’s just art, Terry. Ain’t gotta mean all that. You know I paint a lot of folks.”

Terry stepped even closer, leaning in a bit. “Nah, shorty, don’t play me. I see how you look at me when you think I ain't watching. You can't hide the love.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noting your other friends arriving. “Look, Lana and Kayla are here.” You took a step back, creating some space between you. “We can talk later, alright?”

He let out a sigh. “That's cool, and I know you’ll miss me when I move on.” As you walked away, you could feel him watching, his lingering gaze heavy on your back.

You greeted your other friends with a smile, hoping the moment with Terry would fade into the background. As the night went on, you went to look around for Terry.

Your eyes land on him as he chats with a stunning dark-skinned woman who is clearly attracted to Terry. She leans close, laughing at his joke while touching his arm.

You felt a pang of jealousy twist in your stomach. You decided to talk to him, hoping to get his attention. “Terry, can we talk for a second, please?”

Terry barely glanced your way, his attention still locked on the woman. “Yeah, just a sec!” he called, waving you off. You tilled your head, looking at him sideways.

You feel frustrated and a little petty, so you turn your gaze back to the crowd. Feeling bold, you spotted an attractive white guy across the room who seemed interested.

You walked over, flashing a charming smile, and began chatting and playfully flirting with the pretty man named Charles. You could feel Terry’s gaze, but you didn't look back.

You showed Charles some of your artwork, and you noticed Terry following you too closely, as did the woman he was walking to. You had where you just wanted.

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink after this?” Charles asked, leaning closer. You considered it, tempted to make Terry feel what you were feeling.

As you were about to answer with him, Terry finally broke away from the girl and stormed over. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone sharper than you expected.

“Just having fun, Terry, and meeting new people like Charles here,” you replied, crossing your arms as you shot him defiantly. “I thought you were busy talking to some girl .”

“Stop playing with me. You’re just trying to make me jealous, aren’t you?” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “I’m gonna go,” Charles replied.

You and Terry ignored him and he just walked away. “Yeah, only because you started it and completely ignored me talking to that trick?” you shot back.

Your words are laced with a bitter edge. A tense silence fell between you as the atmosphere crackled with unresolved emotions. Terry pulled you into the quiet space.

The tension between you was real, and confusion danced in his eyes. “Why you all pressed about me talkin’ to some girl?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “You turned me down, remember twice?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the heat of his body close to yours. “I know…T I messed up, okay? I’m just scared!” You said, the words tumbling before you could think.

“I didn’t want to get hurt. You know my last few relationships were rough. I thought shutting you out would help me, but it worsened everything.”

His expression softened, but he still looked conflicted. “So, you rejected me twice and then got mad when I started lookin’ elsewhere, then tried to make me jealous. Shit is childish, shorty.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I know, and I'm sorry, but I realize I want to give this a chance; I want you, Terry, and I want to go on a date if the offer is still open.”

Terry stepped closer, his fingertips grazing your dark brown skin, sending shivers down your spine. “It's cool, and hurting you is the last thing I want to do, baby If I’m feelin’ you, I’m all in, no games.”

Your heart raced at his words, the warmth of his body drawing you in. “I want to be all in, too. Show me that taking this jump is okay," You said, you could feel the pull between you.

With that, he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his. All the pent-up tension exploded as you kissed him fiercely. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the world around you fade away.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. “I'll show you, baby, but first, let’s get out of here,” Terry suggested, and without a second thought, you followed him out of the event.

-

The familiar surroundings felt comforting and charged as you returned to the apartment. Both of you didn’t make it to either of the bedrooms.

Terry leaned in and kissed you hungrily in a sudden burst of lust, his lips warm against yours, his scuffed beard tickling you slightly. He gently pressed your back against the wall.

His hands were all over your body, removing your panties as his lips didn't even separate from yours. You pulled away, helped him out of his shirt, and then pushed his pants with his boxers down.

Terry kicks them off before unzipping your dress and taking it off. He cursed, biting his lip at the sight of your exposed breasts. "Terry" You let out a moan.

You grabbed the back of his head, feeling his braids. He twirled his tongue on your nipple like it was a sucker before sucking it into his mouth.

Terry looked up at you with those pretty light eyes of his with so much desire before popping your nipple off his mouth. He kisses you, dancing his tongue against yours.

He crouches with his legs wide out and gripping your hips. He begins thrusting his throbbing dick through the gap of your thighs. "You feel that, baby? You feel how hard you make me," Terry asked.

"Yes, fuck Terry. I feel so good; keep going, please," You moaned in pleasure, feeling him thrust faster through the soaking wetness of your pussy lips.

You throw your head back, loving the feel of his large hands gripping the plump rounds of your ass. "Mmm fuck" You bite your lip, rolling your hips and trying to match his rhythm slightly.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of that pretty pussy, baby." Terry moans, grabbing your hair roughly and pulling you into a kiss. He lifts your leg to hold you on his hip, and you look at him.

You licked your fingers and rubbed your clit before letting him line himself toward your pussy. He thrusts in slowly while looking deeply into your eyes.

You kissed him and gripped his shoulder as he began fucking you against the wall. "Ahhh, fuck me fuck me, Terry, this dick is good," you moaned in pleasure.

"You like getting fucked against the wall, huh, lil mama?" Terry asked, his voice low, watching your eyes roll back in your head, leading it against the wall.

He lifts you fully, grabs both of your legs under his arms, and begins pounding harder. "Oh my goodness, yes....and....you love this pussy don't you, huh?" You asked.

Your eyes seductively, staring into his soul. "Yeah, I fucking love this pussy, lil mama. This pussy is my mine, you hear me, nobody else? You got that?"

"Yes, yes, Terry, I got it, yes." You nodded at him with a light smirk, grabbing his neck as he continued pounding like a damn beast.

"Let me hear you, baby," Terry said, leaning your back against the wall and kissing your neck. You closed your eyes with your mouth in O, trying to get the words out.

"It's yours, all yours, Terry. Oh my goodness, I'm gonna cum." You moaned, feeling tears of joy coming down your face; the pleasure was so freaking good it brought you to tears.

"Cum, baby, cum on your dick because it's all yours," Terry moaned in your ear, and that is all you needed for you to let out the cry of his name, feeling yourself almost coming on down.

Terry puts you down slightly, has a hold on you to keep you steady, pulls out, and flicks his dick against your clit; you gasp, feeling a gushing of wetness coming out of your pussy.

"Ahhhh fucking shit, muthfucka," You cried, seeing the stars and feeling your body begin to tremble. You could feel yourself slowly falling from the wall.

Terry picks you up bridal style, takes you to your bedroom, and lays you down on your stomach on your bed. He lets you catch your breath as you come down from your high.

"Look at you, got you all breathless and shit; just know i'm not done with you, lil mama," Terry said, giving your ass smack, and you whimpered, feeling him hover over you.

Terry wraps his hand around your neck, gently but firmly tilting your head back, forcing you to look up at him. His intense gaze holds yours.

He kisses you passionately and thrusts inside of you harshly, slightly muffling your moans as he pulls away and grabs your lower back to get a different edge to go deeper.

"So fucking big and so fucking deep, fuck me," You moaned, gripping the sheets of the bed so tight you thought you were going to rip with your bare hands.

Terry lifts himself up and smacks your ass while gripping it in his large hand, watching it jiggle with his every thrust. "Shit, lil mama, after this you're gonna be my girl now.

"And I'm giving you what you deserve; you know I ain't like these other niggas. I'mma take you out and treat you right, okay! I know you love me. You tried to pretend, but I see through it," Terry added.

"Yes, I'm your girl; I wanted it and can't hide love anymore. I want it, Daddy, I love you," you cried out, more tears of joy coming down your face, which made him smirk.

His hands wrap around your neck as you let out loud moans as he thrusts faster and harder with force like no other than before, and he pauses his thrusts for a second, making you whine loudly.

"Say it again, say you love me again," Terry says, pulling out and slamming back into you hard, hitting your sweet spot, still holding your neck.

"Ahhh, I love you, Terry, ahhh fuck I loved you ever since we met," you screamed, feeling yourself coming hard. Terry continued to thrust until he had reached his own mind-blowing orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I love you too, baby," Terry said, pulling you into a kiss, feeling his cum spurt into your pussy. He pulls out, watching it drop out of you.

Terry falls against you on the bed a second before flips to lay on his back, and both of you lay there catching your breath. Eventually, you both took a shower.

Terry went to get some night clothes and returned dressed in sweatpants as if you were doing your night routine. You walk out of the bathroom into your bedroom.

You chuckled to see Terry get comfortable under your covers. You walked over to the bed, got in, and snuggled into his chest. You both held each other in a sweet, soft silence.

“You really mean what you said?” you asked, just needing reassurance from him. Terry looked deep into your eyes, his expression soft and beaming.

“I did. You deserve the world, baby girl, and I wanna give you that if you just let me,” he said, being honest. You smiled and said, “I’ma let you, Terry.”

“Good! Um... you meant it when you said you really love me, right? " he asked, and you smiled back and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I really do, Terry. I meant it.”

His eyes lit up with happiness, and he leaned closer, gently kissing your lips. As the moment's warmth enveloped you, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, hoping for the best in the future.

[loserlvrss]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 b. christopher ( 방찬 )

synopsis | you were so stressed out that you decided a midnight walk would be the best thing to clear your head, however so did your neighbor.

pairing : bangchan x fem!reader genre : drabble, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings : language, bit of angst word count : 539 authors note : oh to be validated

The post-midnight air felt crisp as it swirled around you. Your hands shivered as you shoved them in your pockets, shoulders coming up and chin down to turtle further into your jacket.

You’d had a lot of thoughts crossing your mind tonight, tormenting your peace. And the moonlight coming through your window—beautiful and bright…and mocking—somehow made them worse. It’s been a difficult couple of months, to say the least, the last week being arguably one of the worst you’d had all year; from one thing, to another, it’s like the world was against you. And winning.

You thought a walk could clear the echoes. It’s not like you were sleeping anyway, tossing and turning in your sheets all night.

“Shit—” Your hands shot from your pocket, cushioning against a fleshy yet still firm surface. You hadn’t realized you were looking down until you finally leveled your sights on…your neighbor?

You were quick to apologize, “I’m so sorry.”

You refuted, “It’s my fault. I-i’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

You’d only seen him a couple times, never actually talking to him. Not that you'd had the actual chance to, only catching him as he’d round a corner or be halfway through his apartment door. And if you were more outgoing you might’ve called out to him one of those times, prompting an introduction. But you’d always let him disappear behind a wall or a closed door before you worked up the courage to.

“Are you okay?”

You huffed, “Metaphorically or literally?” You didn’t mean to ask—to burden him with your problems. Afterall, you’d never actually talked to him before apologizing.

And what a first impression it was.

“One of those days,” He replied, posture finally relaxing a bit after making sure you were stable. “You’re my neighbor, aren’t you? Moved in like half a year ago? Chris, by the way.”

“Y/n.” You met his eyes, and honestly you couldn’t tell if they reflected yours or if you just wanted them to. “It’s been one of those weeks, Chris.”

He let a tight-lipped smile of acknowledgement spread momentarily, “Yeah…” He mumbled the rest, “Like a car crash waiting to happen, but you won’t pull over?” But through the silence of midnight air you heard him loud and clear.

You hummed, teeth squeezing the skin on the inside of your bottom lip. And maybe it was the acknowledgment that made you teary-eyed, but you choked it down—like you had been all week…month—and let out a deep breath. ”It could be worse,” you remarked, looking past him, eye catching on the small flakes that danced through the air. They landed on his dark hair, disappearing with the residual body heat. It was beautiful, and maybe in hindsight you’d just lost sight of what you needed the most; a little joy in your life. Wasn’t that what the season was about anyway? Your voice barely cracked, “right?”

His breath reached in front of him, the tail end adorned with a small smile, “Wanna walk some more?” You nodded, “We don’t even have to talk.”

And somehow, despite Chris not knowing you for more than a few minutes, he did reflect you. And maybe that’s actually what you needed instead.

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

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back to masterlist !

[starheavenly]

hiii!!! loving your locket comics!!!!!! just wanted to ask a few questions about your process, if you dont mind :D

whats your general process like?

do you do thumbnails, how do they look like?

roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

how detailed are your sketches? do you do multiple?

do you have any specific techniques for lineart?

do you typically use references for your comics?

generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

do you have any advice for drawing comics?

sorry for for the absolute bombardment of questions, lmao. just really enjoy your art and comics and very interested in the behind the scenes!! feel free to skip any questions (or this whole ask) well wishes and salutations!!! :D

Hello! I'm so glad you enjoy my comics, and I totally don't mind breaking down the process!

For a normal comic page, I would likely actually write a script since it's much easier to keep track of dialogue and actions. But since these are short, I just write it into my thumbnails.

Step 1: Thumbnails. Easily one of my favorite parts, since I get to throw all my ideas down. I do these comics on a 2-panel grid, so I don't have to worry about actual paneling, and it allows me to focus more on the setup of each shot. Think of it like storyboarding!

Step 2: Add cleaner thumbs if needed. I actually made 3D models of Deadlock and Ratchet's chest in Blockbench, so I often trace them to save myself some time! (It might look insane, but I promise, for me, it's not.)

Step 3: Lettering! I actually like to get the lettering out of the way right away since it can take a while. Ever since I started treating lettering as its own form of art, my skills have gotten better, but it also takes much longer.

Step 4: Clean sketch! I'm just now finding out that people think I’m doing lineart for these? I am not… these are all just clean sketches. Maybe doing the blackwork gives the illusion of lineart?

Step 5: Color! Most of these comics are in black and white to save time, but it also lets me focus on values and shot framing again. I add my glow overlay to the eyes, and boom, done!

Roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

It really depends on how complicated the panels are. I like to step out of my comfort zone. I know the Grimlock and Misfire one took longer because of how many panels there were and the fact that I was drawing characters I’d never drawn before, but I’d say it usually takes around 5-8 hours for a whole page.

Do you typically use references for your comics?

I'm literally the reference GOD- we all know this. But yes, I love using references and doing character studies. I have yet to do a study on LL Drift, but I have a few references of him that I’ve made.

Generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

I mean, I wouldn't say I don't put in a lot of effort? I put in enough. I don't know… there's a point in the clean sketch process where you can kind of just turn off your brain. I'm passionate about comics, but we can all agree there's a point in a drawing where you just zone out.

Do you have any advice for drawing comics?

I think being able to balance dialogue and visuals is super important. I don't know if you guys have picked up a graphic novel from Barnes & Noble recently, but if you open a page, you'll see a character sitting with the biggest bubble you've ever seen, filled with paragraphs of text. While I get it—being a novel as much as it's graphic—I personally like to visualize emotions more. If it means adding two more panels to make an interesting dialogue setup, I don't mind doing it. Another thing to remember is that not all panels need to have details or 100% effort. Sometimes you need to simplify and move on, and that's okay! Those two extra panels that are giving you a better stage setup might be the ones that need fewer details and less time. I would consider my comic page work and my 4-panel work very different. One is about paneling, setup, and visuals, while the other is very much like storyboarding. Both are skills you learn with practice and study.

[azuhrasims]

A Little Mod Showcase

Mods created by @janesimsten and @littlbowbub that add flavor to old fashioned game play. You should check out both of these awesome creators though, they have more mods than I'm showing you here!

Archery Skill by JaneSimsten. This mod comes with multiple bow options, three different target ranges, and options to compete with your fellow sims. Kids can practice their bow skills too.Also, its a 10 level skill! This is just a fun flavor to add to any country living save.

Of course if you are into archery, maybe your sims also want to go hunting? You can do that with:

Marksmanship Skill by JaneSimsten. This mod brings your sims rifles, pistols, and 3 different lengths of shooting range to practice their marksmanship. For funsies, you can also get into duels with other sims with this 10 level skill.

The cool part for archery though? This one comes with a hunting spot that works with both guns and bows! Once you reach skill level 3, you can start the hunt. Hunt for multiple critters. These animals actually show up in your inventory and your sim can place them in the world if you need something a little more gruesome for your story telling. That said, you don't actually see any animals killed with this mod - a shot is fired and an animal appears in your inventory.

If you want to use these animals that you've hunted for meat, you can do that with:

Medieval Cookbook by Littlbowbub. This one is so much more than a cookbook - but I will always stand by Jess's recipes and craftsmanship. If you have the medieval cookbook mod installed, you can click on the animal you've hunted and carve it for meat that can be used for cooking.

If you don't want to deal with hunting by marksmanship or archery, the medieval mod has a nifty sign post that comes with it that allows you to do SO MANY rabbit hole activities! Really. You can go to a rabbit hole for fishing, hunting, gathering herbs and plants - which LBB has added some custom herbs for cooking that can be gathered!

You can also go search for firewood, which you want to keep in mind if you get the add-on for this mod that requires firewood for all fireplaces and fire places to light them. You can also download a couple of fun options for custom cooking fireplaces. Using the actual cookbook then, find a variety of medieval dishes to pick from!

Going for hard mode in your sims game? Install this mod with LBB's Homestead Helper and related homesteading mods to be forced to make very part of every food item your sims want to consume.

The Functional Spinning Wheel by JaneSimsten. The spinning wheel looks awesome and the animation is flawless. You get the option to spin thread or pull yarn. With this mod installed, that thread and yarn are required for knitting and cross stitch. Fun side note, if you play as a spell caster, they can cast a spinning wheel curse on a newborn like Sleeping Beauty and isn't that just the neatest thing?

Rideable Dragons by JaneSimsten. Guys, I was not prepared for this little fire starting, flying lizard to amuse me so much. You purchase the egg and hatch the dragon yourself. They start out as manageable smallish sized child dragons and grow up into great big dragons. The dragons have behaviors attached to them like Cottage Living animals, so you can pet them, clean them, feed them, give them gifts. They stay in one spot and do not move around on the ground though. That;s a good thing, Until you train them not to start fires, these guys are hazardous to your lot!

This comes with a 10 level Dragon Rider skill. At level 5 you can begin to take your adult dragons for flights. Its fun. Watch them in Tab mode if you really want to see how far your dragon and riders are going.

Climbeable Tree by JaneSimsten. This one is a little thing that is lovely for screenshots. It will take your sims a few tries to learn how to climb the tree the first time. It appears to be related to the fitness skill though.

Blacksmithing Skill by Jane Simsten. This one is cool. The blacksmithing skill is another 10 level skill. You mine the ore you need to craft from rocks that come as part of the mod (their in the rock category in landscaping!) Then you make that ore into ingots. The ingots can be made into swords, maces, pole arms, sword racks, suits of armor, and more! This would make for an awesome way to make that medieval weapons shop that every town needs. It takes some serious time and effort to get started though!

Lute Skill by Jane Simsten. Its a lute, with custom lute noises! 10 level skill, options to write and license songs and romance other sims are here. Our bards can have lutes!

Playable Harp Skill by Jane Simsten. Guys, the animations and the custom sounds on this are so lovely. I feel like I've stepped into a lovely wonderland when my sims are playing the harp. It just feels magical. 10 level skill.

There are more and I may get to them in the future, but this is what I played with today and it was lovely. Thanks to Jane and Jess for all of their hard work to make our games more magical!

[unofficial-writing]

Sunlight

✵ Pairing: Elrond / f!reader

✵ Word Count: 1.1k

✵ Summary: You always had a fondness for the sun, for it reminds you of your lover

✵ Warnings: None, just fluff

✵ a/n: I love this sort of writing style but haven’t taken a shot at it until now so bear with me

There were many things you loved about this world. Little things that filled your heart with a certain flicker of Joy. On this particular morning, it was the gentle glow of the sun on the trees, seeping through and spilling onto the forest floor. The warm sensation it created crawled across your skin, leaving you to attempt at soaking up as much of it as you could.

The fabric of your dress draped behind you, picking up golden leaves that had departed from their former home in the trees above. They were not unlike the leaves that so effortlessly decorated your hair, wrapping around the crown of your head to hold the pieces out of your face that would otherwise fall in the way.

The warm breeze of summer blew from the edge of the trees to swirl around you, disturbing the lightest of leaves on the forest floor. The ones that had fallen the most recently. The feeling persuaded your lips into the gentlest of smiles. One that could only be seen when observed closely.

It was here, at the tree’s edge, where you found your lover. Elrond rested at the base of a shining tree, surrounded by soft grass and every manner of flower one could imagine. He held in his hands a leather-bound book, overflowing with a messy array of pages that had been aged and weathered with time. His eyes traveled with care across the opened page, soaking up every bit of what the words spoke to him. Your smile found itself a little wider than in the moments past.

Your hands took hold of the soft fabric that clothed you, lifting it just enough to free your feet and your pace. The moment you stepped out from the cover of trees, you were engulfed fully in the sunlight and all its warmth. It comforted your heart and quickened your feet.

You reached Elrond swiftly and dropped down beside him, feeling any tension leave his body upon your arrival. “I had hoped to find you here.” You told him, watching his eyes find yours without delay. He appeared especially fair to you today. His brown curls had grown to a wonderful length, reaching down to meet his brow and curl under his ears. It complimented the rest of his face.

His eyes softened lovingly, admiring you as if this were the last time he could look upon your face. “I hoped you would as well, starlight.” Elrond took your hand in his own, placing a delicate kiss there. You wanted to melt at his touch, his lips against your skin. The feeling spread across your body in the same way the light of the morning had.

You settled in next to him, his body moving instinctively to cradle you in his arms. Elrond picked up his book once more, now shifting to read its contents aloud to you. His voice moved through your ears like a song. Its melody reaching the very depths of your soul and coaxing your body into a state of peace.

You studied his face, which seemed to glow under the bright kiss of sunlight. He was the only being in this world that you found to resemble that light so closely. His warm smile and kind nature carried to you the same comfort as the golden rays that peeked through the leaves to greet you. You had grown rather fond of the feeling.

The subtle rise and fall of each breath in Elrond’s chest returned you to your senses after your thoughts had led you astray, pulling your attention back to his reading. Each word fell off his lips smooth as silk, having you wishing he would never find the end of those pages.

Without disrupting, you gathered up a few flowers that resided in the grass beside you, protecting them in your palms. A hand reached up with a bright golden one to weave into your lover’s hair, only further adding to the thought of comparison of your Elrond to the morning’s sun. His near perfect telling of his story faltered momentarily, and you could feel warmth travel to his face. Even after all the time that had passed, the smallest act could still so easily distract him. An airy giggle escaped your lips at this thought, which did not go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, how you tease me,” Elrond spoke, turning his head to press a long kiss to your temple. He almost made you falter right alongside him.

“Do not pretend it is only I who does. I can recall several occasions where it was you, Elrond.” You returned, your words accompanied by a smile. His shoulders shook with subtle laughter, beckoning you to continue on your task of flowering his hair. After a few more had been added, Elrond was able to return to his book, allowing you to weave your fingers gently through his curls.

Despite your previous wishes, Elrond’s soft eyes followed the final line of the page, and his lips formed the shape of the final word. Soon enough, the book had been abandoned in the grass, freeing his other hand to caress your face.

You gazed up at him, his tidy brown curls were now disheveled, having become home to the forest’s golden flowers. Your smile slid back onto your face, bringing with it your gentle laughter. Elrond practically melted, adoring the sound in the same way you adored hearing his voice utter the words to a story; spoken in a way you believed even the original teller could not achieve.

He peppered your face with kisses, each one like little butterflies beneath your skin. “I want to stay here with you as long as time will allow us.” You told him, watching his lips curve into his own smile.

“My dear, time will allow us eternity.” He spoke in return, planting a kiss to the bridge of your nose. He could not resist another opportunity to feel your skin beneath his lips. “And I would want nothing more than to spend every last moment of it with you.” His smile lit up his entire face, almost seeming to you to be its own source of light and warmth. You wanted to absorb as much of the sight as your eyes could manage.

✵

There were many things you loved about this world. However, there was only one that filled your heart and soul with such an immeasurable amount of joy, longing, love, and everything in between. From the moment your eyes first fell on him and for the rest of your days it is and will always be Elrond. And nothing is a better reminder for you than these mornings spent under the touch of sunlight.

[ecargmura]

Dandadan Episode 9 Review - Aliens And Nessie

TW: Nudity

I think ‘unhinged’ is the best word to describe Dandadan, especially with this episode. It’s a very wacky episode that involves a lot of Okarun butt shots, a cluster of enemies, and a lot of yellow and green filters (The green filter hurts my eyes). It’s crazy how we went from heartwrenching backstories to chaotic alien fights in a span of two episodes.

It was cool seeing what Aira can do now that she can transform using Acrobatic Silky’s powers. She’s flexible and agile. I love how she moves in battle and that she also uses her hair as a weapon in addition to her added flexibility. However, I do think that her biggest weakness is the fact that she lacks fighting experience. Okarun and Momo are able to fight easily as they’ve got so much experience, but this is Aira’s first fight against a paranormal creature, so she does get clobbered often. However, her debut fight is against multiple enemies rather than a singular one like before.

The fight with the enemies is very crazy. The Serpoians felt as if they got stronger. However, since they have a weakness in that they cannot fight when using their powers, that’s where their new hire, Mantis Shrimp (Is that his name?) comes in. I do like that the fights are a mix between serious and comedic without being too out of place and off-putting. The Mantis Shrimp alien is silly, but his punches are brutal. It was interesting that he also had a more grotesque form underneath, like the Serpoians. Though, can someone help me answer this question I have? During the part where Nessie arrived, did the Serpoian and Mantis Shrimp alien fuse with Nessie? If so, then Nessie was heavily underutilized as a villain as it got no character other than being a creature that fires green laser beams.

Now that the group is a trio, their dynamics became a lot more livelier and funnier. Momo and Aira have an antagonistic, vitriolic relationship with each other with the two getting on each other’s nerves. While Momo and Okarun bicker, they have a solid trust towards each other. I love how these two communicate in that Okarun wants to talk to Momo about the misunderstanding with Aira. These two trust each other to the point that Momo can use Okarun as some sort of jet ski. Okarun isn’t that tall, yet he can still have two girls around the same height on him.

I honestly love the animation for this fight, especially towards the end where the aliens fuse with Nessie. The way the camera angle rotates and spins was really good. I also liked the animation at the final bit where the gang return to the real world but naked. The way they ran is reminiscent of the floppy animated style from the first episode, which amps up the comedic aspect of it. Aira running like a Titan in Attack on Titan was hilarious (also hilarious given that her VA Ayane Sakura and Okarun’s VA Natsuki Hanae were in that show as Gaby and Falco)

Speaking of which, I remember that there was an outrage regarding the final scene because one Anituber posted a picture of the scene in the manga when the anime first aired with the intent of being anticipated for how people, fans and anime-only viewers, would few the scene, but it went viral for negative reasons, which led to the anituber getting doxxed. I didn’t think too much of that panel at the time since I’m already used to crude shounen humor, but doxxing someone over manga panels is never an okay thing to do. When I looked at this scene in the anime, I just thought “very shounen humor” and that was it. I think the outrage was mainly due to how sensitive people are towards media these days. All I can say on the matter is that I hope that humanity can change back into the days where people could differentiate fiction from reality.

Since there are twelve episodes, this means that there are three more episodes left. I wonder what’s left for the rest of the story. I think the red-haired boy has yet to show up, so I assume the last few episodes will revolve around him? I’m also curious about the event so fate next episode as a cow gets abducted by a UFO. What are your thoughts on the episode as a whole?

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It was weird to be home. Thankfully, neither his parents - who were kinda absent, so he never really thought it would be a possibility -, not his siblings - in all honesty, Shen Yuan had been prepared for his kidnapping and atticsiblinging - insisted that Shen Yuan had to move out of his home. His siblings fretted, for sure, and he could see that his meimei and da-ge had to keep back er-ge from saying something, but it was okay. Shen Yuan even agreed to the “nanny” his siblings paid for to make sure he survived living alone. It didn't matter; he could continue to live alone! That was one hell of a relief.

Still, it was weird to be home. He kinda got used to the comings and goings of the nurses, the smell of disinfectant, the low murmurs of life outside of his room. And his meetings with Hospital Guy, but he was not thinking about Hospital Guy. Hospital Guy who?

The point was, he was kinda… just maybe a tiny bit… lonely. After his siblings went home, he felt relieved, but after a few hours of complete silence, it became…

Overwhelming. Lonely. 

His thoughts were too loud. 

Sighing, he switched on his phone. A message awaited him; he didn't notice it even after his siblings left. He just didn't have enough energy to look at his phone.

Fall: Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, it's always wrong?

Shen Yuan blinked at the screen, caught off guard by the question. He frowned; the message had been sent six hours ago. Shit.

Hoping Fall didn't resent him for not responding, or think Shen Yuan was deliberately avoiding him, he wrote, “Yes, but I think everyone feels like that. Every choice you make has negative and positive sides - so you just have to concentrate on why it was right to do the thing you did.”

He thought about it for a second, then added, trying to lighten the mood:

Shizun: Except if you wrote a 1000-chapter-long porn with no redeeming qualities, no plot, no world-building, no great characters, nothing. Then, I have to confess, my friend, there's no save for you. But see? There's no such thing as “everything you do is wrong”. Even Airplane has done something right!

There was a long pause, and Shen Yuan was left wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. He should have looked at his phone sooner. He should have been more compassionate. Maybe he shouldn't have sent the last message. Maybe-

Fall: Yeah… ig your ribht. Its just hard to shake sometimes…

“Oh, shit,” Shen Yuan swore. His friend never was as grammatically correct in their messages, as he had been, but this? This was a cry for help.

His fingers were hovering over the screen, but his mind was empty. He wasn't sure how to comfort somebody, especially through text, especially someone he'd never met in real life. But Fall was his friend. He was there for him, and Shen Yuan wanted to be there for his friend too.

Shizun: For what it's worth, I don't think everything you do is wrong. You are a great friend. You are supportive and fun, and so easy to talk to! I don't know what you are going through right now, but you have me, if you want to talk about it. And you have me if you don't. 

A few seconds that seemed like .minutes passed before Fall's next message came through.

Fall: Thanks. It means a lot

It wasn't much, but… it was something. Shen Yuan hoped he was helping. And if their messages took on a slightly different tone from there on, it was met with relief. They were still joking around, ranting about things, talking about fanfiction and PIDW - but they were talking about other things as well. Not just surface level things; about their deeper emotions and thoughts as well.

It was great.

Shen Yuan still thought about Hospital Guy from time to time, wishing they could have a similar relationship like the one he had with Fall, but… it was okay. He had Fall.

And strangely, Airplane.

The banters between Peerless Cucumber and Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky have always been something like a spectacle for other readers, but ever since Airplane actively responded to his comments, instead of just passively adding things to his chapters just for shits and giggles, it became something entirely different. Other readers would watch their back-and-forth with amusement, and more often than not, their interactions would turn into petty insults, while the other readers egged them on.

Peerless Cucumber: Another chapter, another “surprising” plot twist. I never would have guessed the protagonist would survive this near-death experience. Nor that he would fall from the cliff, straight into the bed of a demoness. What a creative genius you are…

 Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: It’s called dramatic tension. Not that you’d know anything about it, even if it bit you in your ass!

Peerless Cucumber: Sure, if by "dramatic tension" you mean rehashing the same tropes over and over again. Ever thought about trying something new? Or are we just going to keep watching Luo Binghe fall to his doom and survive everything by fucking more and more uninteresiting maidens until the end of time?

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: Look, maybe if you wrote something instead of whining, you'd understand. Oh, wait - I'm sorry, do you actually write? Or do you just complain? Or you could just leave PIDW to people who can appreciate it, and just read anything else

Shen Yuan’s fingers froze over his keyboard. Was Airplane... goading him? Was he really upset by his comments, or was it just to stir shit? Was he really-

Shen Yuan didn’t know what possessed him at that moment, but he typed something out before he could stop himself.

Peerless Cucumber: Maybe I do write. And maybe it’s better than the endless trainwreck you’re passing off as a novel. Maybe one of my chapters has more emotions and sense than all of your chapters all together!

There. That should give him some satisfaction. If Airplane wanted to humiliate him for not being a writer, he has another thing coming!

But, strangely, when Airplane didn’t respond right away, Shen Yuan felt an odd twinge of... regret? Maybe he went a bit too far? He shook his head. No way. He wasn’t going to feel bad for Airplane, of all people. Airplane was the one constantly dishing out subpar writing. It was Airplane who baited him with his little digs in his chapters and notes and his replies!

Still, the silence stretched on longer than usual, and Shen Yuan started to wonder if maybe - just maybe - he’d gone too far this time.

It was a shitty feeling.

Almost as shitty as being ignored by Hospital Guy.

-*-*-*-

When Airplane did reply, it was short and almost... despondent. It is hard to really know how somebody was feeling through text but… Yeah. Airplane was clearly Not Okay.

Fuck.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: Well, if your writing is so much better, maybe you should just stick to that. Or maybe you should stick to reading fanfic. I heard there's one that's “way better than PIDW could ever dream of”. Probably less painful for both of us.

Shen Yuan blinked at his phone. That was... not the kind of response he was expecting. For the first time since their banter had started, Airplane didn’t sound defensive or snarky; he just sounded tired.

Tired and so fucking sad.

That was not what Shen Yuan wanted. He knew he was an asshole. But not this much of an asshole! He actually liked PIDW and Airplane! That's why he was so frustrated all the time! He wanted the story to be better! To be as good as he knew it could be!

But it seems his complaints were seen as…

Bullying.

He was a bully.

Fuck.

Peerless Cucumber: Hey, calm down. Just because I critique your work doesn’t mean I hate everything about it. I mean, I did read over 600 chapters, right? You’re clearly doing something right. You have to know you are doing something right.

There was no immediate reply, and Shen Yuan stared at his phone, wondering if Airplane had ever been doxxed before and if yes, where he could find his address. He needed to shake some sense into this idiotic author!

For all its flaws, PIDW had its moments, and it was those moments that had kept him reading despite his frustrations. The story itself wasn't a masterpiece, that's for sure, but Airplane was a creative genius and it was a shame he didn't realize how much potential he had. Besides, even if Airplane’s writing could be infuriating, it took a certain level of dedication to write a story that long.

Shen Yuan typed another message.

Peerless Cucumber: Listen, some fanfics might be better at some things, like world-building or avoiding the... uh... gratuitous papapa scenes. But at the end of the day, they are still just fanfics. Your story is the foundation. Without PIDW, they wouldn’t exist at all! My - and others' - writing wouldn't exist if it wasn't for you!

This time, the silence dragged on for so long that Shen Yuan began to wonder if Airplane had just decided to ghost him entirely. A strange pang of disappointment bloomed in his chest. Maybe he’d pushed too hard after all. Maybe-

But then, Airplane finally replied.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: ...Thanks.

That was it. Just one word. But somehow, it felt like the heaviest response Shen Yuan had ever received from him.

-*-*-*-

Shen Yuan didn’t usually get caught up in his feelings, or at least, he tried to pretend he didn’t. He had a system for dealing with the world: sarcasm, avoidance, and pretending that everything rolled off his back. It was a good, working system. It didn't break when he finally accepted that he would never be his parent's perfect (nor the preferred) child. It worked when his first (and last) interned boyfriend broke up with him for being Too Much. It was a perfect system when he dropped out of college, when he realized no company would ever hire him because of his health issues.

But sometimes, it all caught up to him. Like tonight.

The hospital had been exhausting. Not physically, but mentally. Ever since he’d been discharged, he couldn’t shake this strange heaviness that had settled in his chest. Maybe it was the way things had ended with the guy in the other room - the one he’d developed a little crush on. Shen Yuan had tried so hard to be there for him, to make sure he had everything he needed while he recovered. But in the end, the guy didn’t seem to care. He never asked Shen Yuan to visit, didn’t seem to notice all the little things Shen Yuan did to help him out. And when Shen Yuan said goodbye, all he was left with was rejection.

The previous days were exhausting; his fretting siblings, moving back to his apartment, getting used to being alone again, Fall’s bad mood… all of those were emotionally taxing.

And then there was Airplane.

The snarky banter between them had been fun, sure, but when Shen Yuan had complimented PIDW - genuinely, for once - Airplane had gone silent. Completely ghosted him.

At first, Shen Yuan had brushed it off. It was Airplane, after all. He could be moody, and maybe he just didn’t know how to handle praise. But the longer Airplane stayed quiet, the more Shen Yuan started to feel like maybe he was the problem. Maybe he’d gone too far, even when he’d been trying to be nice for once. Maybe everyone found him too much.

Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, the weight of it all felt unbearable. The hospital guy, Airplane..

Even Fall failed to message him much today. It was like everyone in his life was drifting away, and Shen Yuan couldn’t figure out why.

He grabbed his phone, his heart pounding, and opened his chat with Fallingfromsky1. It wasn’t like him to vent like this, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Maybe he really was Too Much. Bothering somebody with his emotions… he really was greedy, wasn't he?

Shizun: You ever feel like… no matter what you do, it’s never enough? Or like you’re just too much for people? Like… everyone eventually gets tired of you?

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, immediately regretting it. This wasn’t the kind of thing he usually talked about, especially not with someone he hadn’t even met in person. But the words were out there now, and all he could do was wait for Fall’s response.

He watched the three little dots appear on the screen, then disappear.

Then reappear.

Then disappear again.

He guessed, he had his answer. He didn't really know what exactly he was expecting. Comfort? Reassurance? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt hollow inside, like he was sinking. 

Several minutes passed before Fall finally responded. It was one question: �� "Are you okay?"

Shen Yuan stared at the message. He didn’t even know how to answer that. Was he okay? No, not really. But that felt like too much to dump on someone, even if they were friends, even if Fall had always been kind and understanding.

But Shen Yuan was too far gone to hold back now. The dam had broken.

Shizun: I don’t know. It’s just… things keep happening, and it feels like I can’t do anything right. I tried helping someone in the hospital, you know? There was this guy I met, and I thought we were becoming friends. I even… I don’t know, I liked him. He was awkward and didn't really talk to me, but I thought he appreciated my ramblings. But maybe he didn't react to most of the things because I didn’t even exist to him. When I was discharged, he didn’t even care. Didn’t even ask me to visit. I just feel like… like I was too much, or not enough. And then Airplane… I tried to compliment his writing for once, and now he’s completely disappeared. Just… nothing. I guess I complained too much that now he doesn't even believe me when I'm not berating him for once. I think I messed up again.

Shen Yuan closed his eyes after sending the message, feeling sick and embarrassed. Why had he sent all that? He’d just dumped a whole mess of insecurities onto someone he didn’t even know in real life. 

He really was too much.

There was a long stretch of silence after that, and Shen Yuan’s heart began to sink. He stared at his phone, wondering if he’d just ruined things with Fall too. Maybe he’d pushed too hard, said too much. He always did that, didn’t he? Overthought everything, expected too much from people, and then got hurt when they pulled away.

But just when he was about to put his phone down, the screen lit up with a new message.

Fall: Shizun. I don’t think you’re too much. You’re kind. You care about people, and that’s never too much. Maybe the hospital guy didn’t realize what you meant by all the things you did, and that’s on him. But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. And Airplane… well, maybe he’s just not great at dealing with compliments. Some people aren’t. But I know it’s not because of you.

Shen Yuan read the message over and over again, his eyes stinging for reasons he would deny to his death. He was not crying, okay?!

The words were so simple, but they hit him harder than anything else had in a long time. He wasn’t used to people being kind to him, especially when he felt so… raw.

Shizun: Thanks. I’m just… tired, I guess.

There was another pause, and then Fall’s next message lit up his phone. It wasn’t what Shen Yuan expected.

Fall: Can we meet?

[blightowl]

Oh thank goodness I'm turning the question hose on full blast get ready

I'm once again putting under the cut because why say in a few words what I can blabber in many!

Cretaceous Kate might be my favorite combination of words ever. I immediately love her. I know trilobites are nowhere near the cretaceous period but I thought Katherine might appreciate my trilo-angle

How does Kate travel back in time? Does she have any particular bird friends? Do any prehistoric avian birds live with her in the 19th century? (If so, do they have contemporary bird costumes in case of unexpected visitors? Or perhaps can the ancient bird friends hold really still and pretend to be models?)

What is Kate's go-to lunch food? What does she do if her quill breaks while she's out sketching? Is her notebook loose leaf - and if so have her note pages ever gone exploding everywhere - or is it like a journal? Did it start out dummy thicc or has she added c's paper over time?

(May I call her Kate? Or does she prefer Katherine? I like that she spells Katherine with a K. I'm watching Anne of Green Gables (again) and as Anne Shirley says, Katherine with a K is so much more alluring.)

What is Kate's favorite bird of prey? How does she feel about spiders? Has she ever seen a live penguin?

Pick one of your ocs. (It can still be Katherine "Cretaceous Kate" Fleet :) ) That oc makes a sandwich. What do they make?

> Maybe one of your ocs does not know what sandwiches are, so they make their best guess. Maybe one of your ocs is like "I love sandwiches but how?? make????" because they've always had their food made for them. Sandwich fun >:3{

Toli Toli ravioli. I'm not sure what species of snake he is yet. I've been looking around Wikipedia now and then at different snake species, but it's not been a great way to narrow it down because I start out with focus but the hyperlinks are so shiny and blue and next thing I know I'm learning about agglutination.

But the fact that you introduced Katherine Fleet in return is like full on serendipity because one of the birds I think of for him is Apsaravis ukhaana! Another bird is the Western Parotia bird-of-paradise! The way they create a whole umbrella collar of feathers is exactly what Toli would do. Bobbing from side to side with his neck feathers fanned out. Looking like a big ol satellite dish snake goofus.

I don't think Toli is venomous, but he's a relatively new oc so I have much more to discover yet! I keep envisioning him as more of a constrictor so when he morphs back into a snake from a quarterstaff (re: being thrown at bad guy), bad guy suddenly has to deal with 300+ lbs of big muscly feather rope coiling around them (not to mention a good solid bite from one end).

Toli is a bit of a troll so when he's hanging out on Morwenna's body, he loves to mess with people. When one of Morwenna's friends noticed for the first time her tattoo moving, they tried to poke at him. So he turned off her skin and poked back.

As a tattoo, he's maybe three feet long, and about three to four inches wide. When he's out and about, he's beeg. Still haven't figured out how big, but big enough to be a menace to any mid-sized sedan.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't love chin scritchies. He would jump out of a plane for chin scritches. And that says a lot because first he'd have to learn how to jump. He would do big snuggles. All the scritchies plz

Okay uh this reply is getting really long. Speed round.

He and Wenna work together well now, but they've been together a long time. At first they butted heads and sucked eggs. Now they goo. He can talk to other snakes but he's so big and feathered (is bird??? but is snek???? what is???) that other snakes generally are too scared. Fun fact: when he's in tattoo mode, Morwenna can talk to snakes.

I'm in the mood to introspect, does anyone wanna play OC telephone? Send me a fact about one of your ocs, and then ask a question about one of mine (can be a specific chatacter if you know any or generic if you don't) then I'll answer and add a follow up question, and we see how long we can keep the thread going!! Someone please play w me I'm boredddd.

[avoicebehindthestars]

Why 90 minutes are not enough

As a hyperfixated fan, I will never believe 90 minutes will do Good Omens 3 justice.

The Second Coming storyline was intended as something of similar complexity to the Armageddon - and that took 5 hour-long episodes to tell. People who claim that many good films only take 90 minutes should consider that those production were always intended to last 90 minutes - that's the way they were plotted. Frankly, I can't think of a single satisfactory book-to-screen adaptation that would fit into this time restriction. Other STP books adaptations (Colour of Magic, Hogfather, Going Postal) are over 3hr long each. Stardust is over 2hr, and has a much simpler plot.

Added to that is the entire Aziracrow storyline that - let's be fair - is the main thing we all want to see done well. I'm afraid I'm not in the "just kiss and fuck off to South Downs" camp. That ending never held much meaning for me, because we all know how it ends. What I cared for was the path there - healing the heartbreak, becoming an "us". A simple apology dance, or "whatever let's just stop the world from ending" won't cut it. They're lovestory has so far been told through the fluffy, casual, seemingly unimportant details. The kiss isn't evidence of their love. It's the "don't go unscrewing the cap", "three tones of voice", "our car/our bookshop", it's the way Aziraphale's hand remains upright when Crowley's almost wraps over it, or how Crowley gives up the whole argument the moment he learns Aziraphale might be in danger. And through the flashbacks and minisodes now almost certainly lost.

And then there's the whole intellectual side of Good Omens. The show is often praised for being a wonderful queer representation, but not enough is said about it being autistic representation. Most ethereal and occult characters on GO are autistic-coded, but contrary to such productions as House MD, Sherlock, or Atypical, the plot doesn't revolve around them being ND. Instead, we, the neurodivergent recognise ourselves in tiny details - when Shax suddenly asks about hot water, when Muriel doesn't realise the Metatron has just offended them. But that isn't all. We, the ND people are drawn to the whole meta side of the show. The tarot card parallels, the mirror structure, the bloody camera filters! We are treated while being represented - this show is about us and for us. Have you read any of the mindblowing metas on tumblr…? Many people say that Good Omens is full of fillers that are easily omitted, but those parts are simply the ones whose significance the less invested audience didn't recognise.

Nothing of that will be left in 90 minutes. It can be a pleasant experience, an entertaining narrative of stopping the end of the world with, hopefully, a few sweet moments stolen away by Aziraphale and Crowley. And that's all. No nuance or riddles to be tracked over the next years, no grandeur of an epic story told with patience and no compromise. No narrative legacy to leave a mark in contemporary storytelling, the way season 1 did. No satisfying return on everything season 2 discreetly hinted (and how ridiculous that what was basically a backdoor prologue to the final arc will now be 3 times longer than the story itself!). And, above all, no carefully planned and slowly delivered healing.

Just. A 1.5h fantasy comedy to consume on a winter evening before moving on when they're gone forever.