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krysmcscience · 6 months ago

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It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

#fanart #comics #cult of the lamb #cotl #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl shitten #cotl mystic seller #cotl aym #cotl baal #aym and baal #this is why i have been especially quiet lately XD #even just the bonus stuff took several days to finish because i don't know the meaning of DOODLE anymore apparently #everything must be fully inked and colored with backgrounds I Fukken Guess #at least using medibang's sumi brush keeps me from focusing on making my lines perfect :\#and yeah i copy-pasta'd a lot of my own backgrounds don't at me bro #if you're on desktop and want to full view but don't know how: right click the image - open in new tab - zoom in as needed :)#feel free to ask questions about the AU if you want - but uh - this is basically the extent to which i've thought it through LOL #edit: oh right - aym and baal really out there assuming narinder already put the lamb's soul to rest so the body's just fodder now lmao #last edit i hope: fixed the transparent cult certified freak image 8|#nope - one more edit: there is one (1) loophole for how living mortals can be in the afterlife without dying #that loophole is currently narinder XD #'sorry universe but the god of death says i can be in here so back off with your rules and regulations'

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aliteralsemicolon · 5 months ago

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. ��I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

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d4yl1ghts · 7 months ago

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enjoyment

colin bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: after colin and yourself find yourselves bored at a ball, he decides to cheer you up

warnings: nudity, semi-public sex, p in v, expeditionist kink, breeding kink, praising kink, fingering, orgasm, breast play, switch!reader, switch!colin

A/N- Colin needs some more love, his character is so underrated

You and Colin had to go to another ball. As a member of the Ton, you are expected to attend almost all of the balls in the social season. Despite this, it didn’t change the fact that you hated them. You were never a social person. Colin also never really found them much fun anymore; they were repetitive and he would rather stay home with his wife.

That is what lead you to being sat opposite Colin in your carriage. Colin had your hand in his hand and was gazing at you sneakily. You were looking out the window and so he thought you wouldn’t notice him. “What are you looking at, Lord Bridgerton?”, you teased as you turned to stare at him. “Just a beautiful lady.”, he playfully stated.

You groaned as you sighed: “Balls are so pointless. I don’t understand why society makes us go.”

“Well, as members of the Ton, it would be seen as wrong if we didn’t attend a few.”, he placed a delicate kiss to your cheek. “I guess so.”, you responded in an unbelieving tone. He simply chuckled.

The carriage then pulled to a stop and Colin gracefully guided you out of the carriage as he always does. You slowly walked into the beautifully decorated ballroom. You glanced around and admired it in silence. “I have to say they have outdone themselves this year.”, Colin stated matter-of-factly.

You nodded your head in agreement before continuing further into the vast room. As you cast your eyes around the room, you spotted Anthony with Kate and Anthony finally noticed you and called you and Colin over. “Brother. Y/N.”, Anthony welcomed. “Anthony.”, you reciprocated. “Have you been on any new travels, brother?”, Anthony questioned. “No, I don’t intend to go on any for a while. I have my duties as a husband to tend to.”, he smiled as you blushed. You turned around and saw Kate talking to Violet.

“Kate. Violet.”, you greeted. “Y/N, how are you?”, Violet asked kindly. “Good, thank you, how are you?”, you replied. “I am great. The ballroom is so elegant and beautifully decorated I must admit.”, she stated. “I would have to agree. Look at the gorgeous paintings.”, Kate added. “Mhm, I do quite like the chandelier. It is so detailed.”

Violet nodded her head in agreement. You looked past Violet and recognised Colin’s eyes boring into your figure. You stared at him in concern as he made his way over. “Mother, I hope you do not mind if I steal my wife.”, he said in acknowledgment of his mother. “Of course not.”, she smiled at her son’s happiness.

Colin had a steady grip on your arm as he lead you outside. “What are we doing out here?”, you asked. He ignored you as he gently pushed you against a wall, careful to not hurt you. Fortunately, there were no windows and you were covered by a pillar. “Darling, you didn’t expect us to stay in there for the whole ball, did you? I know how much you despise these events.”, he says confidently. You gazed up at him with innocent eyes. He sighed as he attached his lips to yours with such a passion.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and explored the crevices. He pulled away and moved his calloused hands to the back of your corset and looked to you for consent. “Yes.”, you muttered, still out of breath from your lengthy kiss. He hastily undid your corset, occasionally tightening it instead of loosening it.

You then tugged on his shirt, asking him to remove it. He instantly removed it and locked his lips to your bare chest. He gazed at your hardened nipples and glanced at the rest of your body. “You are perfect, my love.”, he confessed. He quickly reattached his mouth to your breasts and sucked on your nipples. You whimpered at the feeling. He placed his fingers against your other breast that wasn’t getting any attention and began kneading his hand on it. You were so wet for him already. He then decided to plunge two fingers into your slick and pumped in and out of you until you had adjusted and he then took out his fingers.

As you stared at him hungrily, he knew what you wanted and so he took off his breeches and exposed his hardened cock. You gazed into his eyes lustfully. He grabbed his cock that dripped with pre-cum and lined it up with your folds. He rubbed his length up and down your folds to gain your slick on his cock. His length twitched as he made contact with your pussy.

He allowed you time to adjust before he slowly thrusted in and out of you. Colin then moved closer to you so your hips were in contact with each other. He wanted to reach the deepest spot he could. “Fuck, Colin…”, you moaned as tears brimmed in your eyes. He whimpered quietly at your moans. He moved his large hands to feel his bulge in your stomach. “Taking it so well, Y/N.”, he praised. He sighed in pleasure.

You cautiously moved off Colin’s cock to which he grunted in disapproval. You then shoved him against the floor carefully. You looked at his irritated and dismissed length before lowering yourself over it. You then grinded against Colin and he moaned in response as you gripped his hair. At any point, anyone could walk out and see the two of you but you were too euphoric to care now. You let out quiet and gentle moans as you bounced on his girthy cock. Colin sighed contentedly as he felt your walls clench around his shaft.

You released your juices all over Colin’s cock as you came down from your high with tears streaming down your face from the pleasure. Colin then hold you in place with his big and tender hands as he hip-thrusted into you and felt his cock twitch before he shot his load deep into your pussy.

You waited for a few minutes with Colin’s soft cock still in your pussy as you gained your breath back. Both of you then glanced around and after seeing no one, you both let out some quiet laughs. You hastily attempted to lace up your corset and Colin ended up helping you after he had put his shirt and breeches on. “Thank you.”, you kissed his red lips sweetly. “We should head back in before anyone notices we’ve been gone.”, Colin replied.

You slowly walked back in (with the assistance of Colin’s sturdy arms) and looked around before making your way over to an empty corner. “That was such a lovely way to spend the ball, Colin. We should do it again.”, you admitted. He hummed in agreement as he smirked at the state of you. Red lips and wobbly legs.

Suddenly, Violet was walking toward you two and you grabbed Colin’s arm and wrapped it tighter around your shaking frame. “Where have you two been? The Queen wanted to see you both on the dance floor as you are a newly married couple.”, she whispered worriedly. “Mama, we were just outside. We enjoyed our time outside much more than we would have in here.”, he said with amusement in his eyes. “Hmm, okay. Next time, you have to dance though, okay?”, she questioned. Colin just nodded along. She then walked away.

“Next time, we are not dancing. I know how much you dislike it, Y/N and I believe that we have found a much more enjoyable activity.”, Colin chuckled. You sighed as you flushed slightly.

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x female reader #fem!reader

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hauntingrabbits · 3 months ago

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Happy Batman day! Went back and finished the last batch of the MLP AU I had sketched way back in May.

Part 1, Part 2

More info under the cut!

Enigma/The Riddler (Edward Nygma)

Intelligence and puzzle-solving are deeply valued among sphinxes, and those who fall short of their standards are often ridiculed and cast out. Among some (prejudiced) Sphinxes, other sapient, non-Sphinx species such as ponies are looked down-upon or seen as fundamentally inferior for not putting as much stock in puzzles and the like as sphinxes do.

Enigma, though considered a prodigy for his remarkable intelligence and skill with puzzles even among his fellow Sphinxes, was ostracized when a pony unfamiliar with Sphinx culture (a younger Sundown traveling Equestria for his training), humiliated Enigma by unraveling a puzzle of his that was meant to be judged as his final submission in a prestigious event, permanently staining his reputation and wounding his massive ego.

After years of quiet ridicule from his peers and his own growing obsession over the event, Enigma eventually snapped and fled to Gotham for revenge. His contempt has since spread far beyond that of the original pony he wished to prove his superiority over, and he now makes all of Gotham the target of his obsessive schemes, constantly trying to prove his superiority and feed his ego by putting ponies through his elaborate puzzles and riddle-based traps. He sees Batpony’s skill and determination in foiling him as both an inherent challenge to and a slight against his own abilities, reminding him far too much of that original pony from so long ago.

Other notes:

-Apparently sphinxes in MLP have pony heads instead of human heads which makes sense I guess but it threw me through such a loop man.

-Whilst traversing the wiki I ended up with the same problem I had with chimeras in the first post where only one ever shows up in the series and there's no other info on them. So I made stuff up again.

- I imagine Sphinxes live a very long time, so the event Enigma was embarrassed at would probably take a long time to roll around again and he'd be forced to stew with his anger and wounded ego for far too long. I'm not sure what the puzzle was exactly or how Sundown dismantled it, but I imagine he did something extremely simple that a Sphinx would never have thought of (a la that software engineering joke), making it feel far more unfair and humiliating than if he'd solved in the intended way.

-His naturally crooked tail settles into the shape of a question mark, and the pattern on his arm is meant to look like a stylized question mark wrapping around his forearm (the "dot" is the white of his paw).

2. Miss Friday (Miss Tuesday)

Enigma’s teenaged assistant, Miss Friday seems to be the only pony the sphinx enjoys (or perhaps simply tolerates) the company of. Beyond her having met Enigma in Tartarus during their simultaneous imprisonments, the exact origins of her relationship to and exceptional status with her boss are a bit of a riddle in of themselves. Regardless, the two seem to have something of a mutual understanding, and Miss Friday’s mental prowess and dubious moral code are more than a match for Enigma’s own.

Other Notes:

-Yes this is a "The horse's name was Friday" joke. I'm sorry it was just too good to pass up.

-Miss Tuesday already sounded like a MLP name, but the horse named Friday thing was just too perfect for somebody who works under a guy who's whole thing is riddles. Also I relistened to the BTAA episode where she's introduced while coloring her and I noticed they reference His Girl Friday several times, so fun coincidence?

-The candy-striped leg patterns are based on her canon costume's striped pants & are meant to mirror the Riddler's wrapped leg pattern. The dark patterns on her face are supposed to be reminiscent of eye bags.

3. Mania (Bat-Mite)

Bat-Pony’s self-proclaimed biggest fan, Mania is a Draconequus embodying the spirit of obsession. Normally he watches the hero from his own dimension, but at times he tries to insert himself into the narrative or help Sundown fight, both to varying degrees of success. Though he genuinely adores Bat-Pony, Mania is usually more of a hindrance than a help, and can even be directly antagonistic at times when his obsession goes too far.

Other notes:

-Similar issue to Chimeras and Sphinxes, only two Draconequuses (Draconequui?) show up in the series, one being Discord (embodying chaos), the other being a comics-only villain known as Cosmos (embodying malice), but honestly what little we're given worked super well for the character anyway. Discord seems to come from his own unique plane of existence/dimension and Cosmos has similarly strange origins; both have penchants for causing mischief with incredible reality-warping powers; and both embody non-physical concepts. Bat-Mite being a reality warping 5th dimensional creature obsessed with Batman was surprisingly easy to adapt.

-He has the head of a pony, a ferret-like body, two front rat paws, mite antennae, an insectoid wing, a bat wing, a pigeon foot, a chevrotain (mouse deer) foot, and a monkey tail. I tried to have him mostly made up of animals that were very small, seen as mischievous, and/or seen as pests.

4. Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley)

Said to be more plant than pony, Poison Ivy is the self-proclaimed princess of the Green. Though once a regular Earth pony, she began to spiral after receiving her cutie mark and fully coming into her powerful natural attunement to plant life. Fleeing into the nearby forests on the outskirts of Gotham, she wasn’t seen again until many years later when Gotham’s city refurbishment and expansion efforts began to encroach on the forests borders, where she reemerged with strange new powerful magic and retaliated violently.

Though she isn’t recognized politically or physically as an alicorn, plants grow from the flesh of her body in the pattern of a horn and wings characteristic of those born into or bestowed with royalty, and the strange natural magic that accompanies them seems to almost rival that of a true alicorn’s.

Other notes:

-I dont really have anything to add to this one I just thought a false alicorn would be a cool concept.

-the whole alicorn royalty thing is very strange to think about isnt it? I feel like the ruling class having such insane amounts of physical and magical power probably has much more pressing ramifications than ever was, would, or should be addressed in a kids show but they are fun to think about.

-Her actual name is Poison Ivy, yes. It sounded like a pony name. I don't know what that says about her parents.

-The leaf wings are folded down in the graphic but I think they are flighted, or at the very least useful for gliding and expressing emotions.

5. Saltbrine (Oswald Cobblepot)

Short, stout, and flightless, Saltbrine’s moniker of “The Penguin” has its origins in the taunts of his peers from his youth. Though the title has persisted into the current day, it’s often spoken with far more fear and trepidation throughout the alleys and backstreets of Gotham than ridicule. Saltbrine owns two of Gothams most well-known businesses, one being the luxurious, high-class Iceberg Lounge…and the other being the organized crime syndicate the former acts as a front for.

Other notes:

-Again don't have much to add to this one. One of my favorite designs though, I love the giant beak face.

-The bird half is actually based on a puffin, because a penguin felt too on the nose for Oswald and too strange for a hippogriff (I couldn't get the wings or face to look right at all either). I feel like the title being an insult works a little better if he's not literally half-penguin.

-he's the same color my club penguin avatar used to be (RIP)

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insertdisc5 · 1 year ago

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✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨

it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO

I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,

1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.

2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.

3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.

Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.

I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.

Now. Questions time!

✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?

Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.

✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--

I will not answer those. It's your turn.

✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES

Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.

-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.

-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.

-A wish made everyone forget the Country.

I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.

✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(

Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3

✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?

There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.

✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?

It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.

✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?

Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.

✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?

What makes you think Siffrin does?

✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?

It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.

✨ Who was the King, before?

He was just a guy!

✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?

That's a fun idea. Maybe!

✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)

Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.

✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?

I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.

✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?

In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3

✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?

That's artbook content <3

✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?

Flew away. It's gone now.

✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?

Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code

✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?

Pretty good!

✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

Both were teens.

✨ How old IS everyone?

Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!

✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?

Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!

✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?

The Country got cold at night.

✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?

They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3

✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!

They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3

✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?

Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.

✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.

Odile just smiles.

✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?

I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.

✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...

Dunno. It's your turn.

✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...

I have some idea. But it's your turn!

✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?

No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.

✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?

During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.

✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(

Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???

This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.

✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?

(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,

✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?

Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself

✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease

oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!

✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.

FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny

Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)

✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?

Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.

The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.

✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?

Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me

✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?

Some of them I do, some of them I don't!

✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!

Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine

✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.

Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!

✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!

Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.

✨ What will you work on next?

I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers

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4milly · 4 months ago

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why can i imagine zilla doing a sex tape.😭

18+

“yea, baby lemme see…” he sighed as he moved the old VHS camera over your face, urging you to stick your tongue out to the lens and show tonight’s events.

his un-swallowed cum laid in a pool on your tongue as his dick rested on your chin—you cheeks stained with tears. “y’doin so good fa me tonight, ma. took it all in that pretty mouth. i knew you could do it.”

zilla eased his dick back onto your tongue rolling his cum around, pushing all the way towards the back of your throat. you let out gagging noises as he held his dick there—tears forming once again in your eyes.

although the didn’t intend on overusing your throat, he moved in and out of your mouth for a few strokes before pulling out with a pop. you close your mouth and take a large gulp as he moved from sitting on your chest, to between your thighs.

“open them legs, baby. yea, wet ass fuck, bae. open her up for me.”

you moved your hands to your pussy spreading it open, as he zoomed in on the camera towards your hole leaking it’s arousal onto the bed. he moved a thumb to your clit, rubbing in circles causing squelching noises to bounce off the wall.

“pretty ass pussy. you want daddy fuck you? hm?”

you nodded and let out a small “yes.” which was more of a plea for him to stick his fat dick into you and take away the ache that was now forming, “speak up,” zilla’s voice hardened as the camera was once again in your face—his thumb still moving on your clit.

“yes!” you make eye contact with the camera “I want you to fuck me, z. please, fuck me, baby.”

“I always take care of my, baby. give her what she want.” you widened your legs making space for him to move between. sitting on his heels, he slapped his thick angry red mushroom tip onto your clit before pushing into your pussy whole. it beginning to stretch to accommodate his size and thickness. “play with that clit fa’ me. she want some attention.”

you rubbed slow circles on your clit. his dick lodged tightly into your pussy. the flashlight pointing directly at the connection, his attention completely focused on the small rectangular part; making sure every moment was captured.

he let a glob of spit fall before speeding up. your broken moans being captured at the stimulation from your clit, him fucking you, and brushing against that spongy spot inside of you. each thrust causing your pussy to futter and jump around him. you let out a string of whines; spreading your legs towards your chest. the new position creating a more snug fit.

“ohhh fuckk. gonna cum in you, baby. fill this pretty pussy with my cum. you want that, mama? have you leaking wit’ me?”

your pants growing louder as zilla stopped thrusting and swiveled his hips in a sensual motion making your eyes roll in the back of your head. prolonging yourself from releasing, so sweetly.

“let go, ma. cum on your dick.” zilla zoomed in to watch your pussy spasm on his dick. the sight of it jumping having him bite his lip. your orgasm triggering his own release, his cum spraying inside of you. he waited a minute before pulling out and zoomin in further. he spread your lips, watching his cum dribble out of you.

“we ain’t done yet, turn over baby. put that pussy in the air. y’know the drill.”

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linopls · 1 year ago

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kinktober day two

titfucking seungmin x fem!reader summary: seungmin's biggest pet peeve is when you forget plans warnings: warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, humiliation, manhandling, use of color system 0.9k words

“seungmin, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean-”

“ground,” he commands. you comply, not wanting to piss him off more than he already is.

“i’ll make it up to you! i promise! whatever you want-” tears are streaming down your face and your grabbing at his legs, begging him to forgive you.

he grabs your chin in one of his big hands to cut you off. “i want you to shut the fuck up. since you want to act like such a slut, i’ll fucking treat you like one.” he forcefully releases his grip on your face, in a throw-like motion. “take your shirt off to match your fucking cunt.”

you quickly take your shirt off and throw it god knows where. you sit on your knees, hands in your lap, waiting for seungmin to make his next move. you had forgotten that seungmin said he would come over after his schedule today and he caught you playing with yourself. he had previously said that this event would probably stress him out so he wanted to come to your apartment and make love to you before falling asleep.

“i’m already fucking exhausted from today,” he says, walking over to your nightstand and opening one of your drawers. “and i expected to come home to my beautiful lover that i could make sweet, romantic love to. but no.” he turns around, a small bottle of lube in one hand and he’s unbuckling his belt with the other. “i came home to a slut, who couldn’t even wait for me to come home to make her feel good.”

he grabs you by the chin again and lowers himself to eye level with you. “i was going to be so sweet and gentle with you today, i was thinking about it the whole way home. but now i don’t think you deserve it.”

you gulp, too scared to respond, seungmin picks up on this. normally you would have a snarky remark or would continue to beg for forgiveness, but today you’re too disappointed in yourself to do so.

“color?” seungmin whispers, lightening the grip on your jaw.

“g-green,” you whisper back, lowering your head.

“good,” he says, as he stands up fully.

“c-can i say one thing?” you ask meekly.

“yes,” he answers, standing above you looking down at your solemn figure.

“i’m very sorry, i-i had mixed up what days y-you said y-you’d be o-over and i,uh, thought it was ‘morrow.”

“shouldn’t be so forgetful,” he laughs, pulling his belt off and throwing it onto your bed.

“i know. you can do whatever you need to me tonight and i’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

“i intend to,” he spits. he pulls his slacks down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the sight makes your mouth water. “sit up,” he commands.

you do as he asks and sit up on your knees, you’re face to face with his stomach and you look up to him. he looks so handsome like this, telling you want to do and holding this power above you.

“push ‘em together,” he says, removing the cap from the bottle of lube. he doesn’t have to explicitly say it, you know exactly what he’s talking about.

you knew that seungmin was a tit guy, the way he always groped at them or stared at them no matter what you were doing. a couple months ago, you were having a similar scene but you were allowing him to face fuck you. he stopped suddenly and asked if it would be okay to use your tits to get off. ever since then he had become addicted to it and would do it any time you misbehaved.

you pushed your breasts together and he prepared his cock and placed it between your tits.

“good?” he asks. everytime he checks in, it makes your heart swell. you nod in response.

he slowly begins to move back and forth between your soft breasts. “fuck,” he groans.

you nod. you feel yourself dripping all over your hardwood floors and you adjust yourself to close your legs and stop any further leaking.

“sitting nice and still while i use you is the least you could do right now.” he says through gritted teeth.

you try to move again but seungmin grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to look at him.

“why the fuck are you moving?” seungmin yells.

“d-don’t want to make a mess on my floor,” you whisper.

“speak up slut. you were so loud earlier begging for my forgiveness. where is that now?” he taunts, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“i’m making a mess on my floor, d-don’t want to leave a puddle.”

“oh my god,” seungmin erupts into laughter. “you are such a fucking slut aren’t you? i can just use your tits for my own pleasure and it has you gushing all over the place, hmm?”

your face turns red and tears threaten to spill over.

“gonna cry, hmm? save it.” seungmin grabs both of your shoulders and begins to fuck your tits faster.

“push ‘em together further, slut.”

you push your breasts together as hard as you can and seungmin moans loudly in response.

“gonna come all fucking over you,” he spits before releasing his load. he paints your breasts, neck, and jaw white and you sigh in relief. he takes one of his fingers and slides it over a pile of is cum and holds it to your mouth,

“suck,” he commands and you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth.

once you wipe them clean, he ponders for a moment. “push ‘em back together,” he says, stroking his cock back to its full length. “i’m not finished yet.”

seungmin simps please rise !!

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#linopls: seungmin #linopls kinktober 23 #kinktober #skz kinktober #stray kids kinktober #kinktober 2023 #linopls #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagine

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milswrites · 9 months ago

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The bonds that tie us

~Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Azriel accept the mating bond.

Warnings: Smut! 18+ MNDI, p in v

Azriel’s golden eyes stayed locked on yours. His intense gaze piercing your own until you could feel his searching presence in your very soul. Each heavy breath which escaped from his lips sent delightful tingles down your spine.

The sweet scent of his growing arousal permeated the air, causing you to slightly shift in your seat at the anticipation of the events to come.

“So?” You ask impatiently, tearing your eyes away from Azriel to look to the chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table.

The cake which you had spent the past few hours baking. Pouring your love into the mixture as you did so, making sure everything was perfect for your mate.

It was a masterpiece. Your proudest work. And yet the shadowsinger never spared it a glance, not even as he entered the room. Instead he had walked in, burning gaze never failing to leave you as he sat down in the chair opposite. Failing to give you any other reaction except his heady scent of want which filled the room intoxicatingly.

He gulped deeply at the sound of your voice, finally moving his hazel eyes to the food before him. Face drawn black as he allowed the realisation of what this meant to settle deep into the marrow his bones.

“It’s for me?” He asked, voice thick with tension as he took in the cake before him, his eyes briefly closing as he inhaled the delectable smell of the fresh sponge.

“Yes Az” you replied, lips stretching into a smile as you watched the trace of glee wash over his expression. You pressed your thighs together, searching for some relief as you noted the darkness which crept into his passionate stare.

“This is what you want?” Azriel questions, the low rumble of his voice reverberated through your chest, tugging lightly on the taught strings of your heart.

“It is,” you confirmed, leaning your torso forward to enable you to reach the cake in order to cut the male a slice, “And you? Is this what you want?”

“Unquestionably” he replied, watching the way you delicately sliced through the layers of the cake before placing it on the plate before him. Settling back into your seat as your expectant eyes fell onto him.

But instead of eating, he began to speak. Forcing himself to say what had to be said before he’s too consumed by his feral need to devour you whole.

“I spent five hundred years waiting for you” he started, slowly running his tongue along his lips to wet them as he thought of exactly what he wanted to say, “And I would have waited five hundred more if it meant I got to be with you at the end of it.”

Your eyes began to water at the truth which laced his words, his honest eyes coming to meet your own.

“I always thought you were too good for me. The horrors of my past, the grim nature of my job. I couldn’t see how I could deserve you.”

He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. You allowed him to assemble his words in silence, your time to speak would come. This confession he needed to get off his chest alone.

“You are my other half, my soul belongs to you. I see that now. And I’m ready for it, I am. I do deserve you, and I will spend the rest of my life knowing that. You are my mate. And the stars will sing our song forever.”

Azriel made no move towards the cake. So you took this as a sign that it was your turn to speak.

“I love you Azriel. I have for a long time, and not just because the cauldron intended for it to be so. My heart is yours to keep, and for as long as I shall live my love for you will know no bounds nor have any limits. I’m yours Az, I always have been.”

A rough growl broke from his lips at your final statement, his sharp jaw locking into place as he resisted the urge to jump on you then and there, cake be damned.

His fiery gaze remained on you as he lifted the sweet cake to his lips and began to eat. His chest heaving with the effort it was taking to finish the entire slice, the outpour of desire which flooded into his system was almost too unbearable to deny.

Finally he put the last remnants of the cake into his mouth, taking the time to deliciously lick the rich chocolate from his long fingers. Amber gaze still unwavering.

The atmosphere was electric. The overwhelming scent of your joint arousal was becoming too difficult to ignore and so you allowed your instincts to take control. Leading you from the rickety wooden chair across the room, until you were stood between the open legs of your lover. Of your mate.

His tender hands came to rest at your waist, the heat of their teasing touch burning and you had to resist the urge to hiss at their devastating presence. Lowering your face until your lips tantalisingly brushed against his own, you plucked on the newfound bond which had settled in your chest as you finally spoke to him through the golden thread.

My gorgeous, handsome mate.

Azriel closed the gap between you, sealing his soft lips against yours as they danced together in a passionate embrace. His rough hands tugging you towards him until you were comfortably sat in his lap, your legs splayed open on either side of his firm thighs.

It was as though you were a feral beast chasing after its prey. Devouring your mates lips as your tongues entwined, teeth occasionally clashing together at the messy intensity of the kiss.

Your control had vanished, leaving no trace behind until all that remained was your profound need to take Azriel in every possible way that you could.

Your desperate hands tugged wildly at his clothes, begging the male to remove them. The overpowering need to feel his bare skin on yours was blinding.

Understanding your needs Azriel briefly broke the kiss, allowing you to pull his constricting shirt from his body, uncaring as you tossed it across the room before connecting your lips against him once more.

Able to now feel the soft warmth of his bare skin, you raked your nails along his abdomen, drawing a long deep moan from his throat. His eyes squeezed together tightly as though in pain, as though your teasing touches weren’t enough to satisfy him.

He needed more.

Azriel wanting to feel your enthralling heat wrapped around his cock as he pounded into you. Each deep thrust signalling his claim over you. Over his mate.

And so in his need and impatience, the male stood. Holding you tightly in his strong arms as he made his way to the bedroom, lips never once straying from your own.

Entering the room he softly laid you upon the silken sheets, stripping you of your clothes as his sultry gaze was finally able to look upon your naked form.

His scarred hands having a mind of their own as they travelled the expanse of your skin, drawing sinful sounds from your lips as he lightly traced your nipples before connecting his mouth to your breasts.

Taking turns in worshipping each one, leaving purple pebbles in his wake as he gently bit and sucked at the tender skin, before trailing up your body to show the same love to the sensitive skin of your neck.

All the while your hips bucked up against his own in desperation, your aching core pulsating with its need for relief.

Ever the attentive lover, Azriel slipped his hand down the contours of your body until his skilled fingers met the area where you were most sensitive. His long fingers lazily tracing circles onto your clit as he turned his smirking lips to your face.

“What is it you need princess?” He goaded, fingers continuing their circular motion, “my fingers?” He brushed them lightly against your core, “my tongue?” He traced his tongue along the line of your neck as he spoke, drawing a whiny cry from your lips.

Bucking your whips against him once more, your fingers began to grip the sheets of the bed as you begged, “your cock Az please. Give me your cock.”

“Is that what my mate desires?” He growled lowly against the sensitive skin of your neck, “For me to pound her to completion with my cock?” He slipped his fingers inside you as he spoke, pumping them to the rhythm of your moving hips as he continued to speak, “Is that what you need princess?”

Unable to speak you whined in response, eager hands unbuttoning his trousers as you longed not to waste another minute.

Compliant, Azriel removed his soaking fingers from your core. Aiding you with removing his trousers and undergarments until his aching cock stood to attention before you. Red tip already leaking from the intensity of his desire.

“I want you to fuck me like you own me Az” you breathed, locking your black eyes with his own, “show your mate how you would worship her.”

Groaning at your words, Azriel lines himself up at your core. His teasing head brushing along your folds until he finally gave in to his longing and began to push himself in.

Satisfied moans tearing from both your mouths as he continued to enter you until he was fully sheathed. Stilling for a few moments as he allowed you to adjust to his large size.

Finally, you signalled him to move by thrusting your hips upwards towards his own, begging for the male the fuck you.

And Azriel did. Pounding into you forcefully, guttural moans slipping from his lips as his hips met yours again and again. Powerful cock thrusting in and out of you repeatedly.

The bond - the newly established golden thread which tied the two of you together - glowed brightly. Its presence creating an overwhelming intensity that drew you closer and closer to your completion with an unexpected ferocity.

The delicious sensation of your mates cock slipping in and out of your soaking core was enough to start to tip you over the edge of bliss, stars entering your vision with every thrust your mate delivered.

“That’s it” Azriel panted, the rhythmic movement of his hips never faltering, “You��re doing so well baby. Let it take over, show me you’re mine.”

You came undone with a pleasured cry, body spasming at the sensation as Azriel continued the brutal pace of his thrusts as he chased his own high. With your vision clouded by satisfaction, the only tell of him finding his completion was the strangled cry which tore from his throat as his thrusts finally slowed, the male delivering the last few twitching thrusts before he came undone inside of you with a groan.

Carefully, he withdrew himself from your core, moving so he was laid next to you. A gentle hand coming to caress your slightly sweaty skin, finger trailing the curve of your hips up to your ribcage before repeating the action.

“That was perfect” you hummed in contentment, pleased with the calming sensation that had settled in the wake of your high. Tired breaths still escaping from your lips.

“You think that’s it?” Azriel asked with a smirk, “My love that was just the beginning. I’ve yet to bring you apart with my tongue.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat at the promises which rolled from his lips.

“My darling mate,” he crooned, “you’re sorely mistaken if you think you’re leaving this bed before the end of the week. I’m going to explore every last heavenly inch of your body.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ummmmm if you read this no you didn’t 🫣🫣🫣 this was only my second time writing smut so I’m sorry it’s bad and let’s all forget this exists ok?

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger

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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 year ago

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“I don’t think that is what God wants. And I don’t think you want it either.”

This line of Aziraphale’s in the Job minisode keeps sticking out to me. Because this is the heart of the problem, right? This is how Aziraphale can see Crowley so completely and also not at all.

Because yes they suck at open communication and yes it’s because they had to hide their relationship for thousands of years and have so so so much trauma and fear to work through. But ALSO they actually do have a profound difference in how they see the world that keeps coming between them, and it’s not just theoretical but deeply personal to both of them.

Because Aziraphale still wants to believe that God is good. He can’t let go of that because his whole identity is wrapped up in being an angel of the Lord, and if God’s not good then what has he been doing for his entire existence?

And so when bad things are happening he falls back on This cannot be what God wants. The whole of season one, he refuses to believe that God could really want the world to end—even though we now know he knew this was a possibility before the world even started. He keeps going up the chain of command, trying to find someone to intervene. “That’s why I’m going to have a word with the Almighty and then the Almighty will fix it.” As if God doesn’t have all the information or hasn’t been paying attention.

And really, the events of season one reinforce this worldview for him. Because if the Archangel Fucking Gabriel isn’t sure what God wants, then maybe God did want them to stop Armageddon. Maybe it was Aziraphale and Crowley who were doing God’s work after all.

He’s gotten as far as realizing that Heaven’s orders are not the same thing as God’s will, but he still hasn’t detached the concepts of Good and Right from God in his worldview.

Crowley is a good person who does the right thing so he must still be an angel deep down. “I know the angel you were.” The only way Aziraphale can conceptualize Crowley saving Job’s children is, “Come on, you’re a little bit on our [God’s] side.” So Crowley’s fall was a mistake; Crowley belongs in Heaven, where he was so happy before the Fall. Why wouldn’t he want to be an angel again? And yeah maybe Heaven sucks now but God is still good, so there’s hope that the system can be reformed with a change of leadership, and Heaven can be made to actually do good, the way God always intended.

But that’s not how Crowley sees the world at all. He is operating with an entirely different understanding of reality. Because he figured out a long time ago (at least by the time of the Job job, but probably long before that) that you can’t base your sense of morality on what you think God wants. Not just because you don’t know for sure, but because sometimes God’s plans are fucking awful. God in Good Omens is not kind to Her creations. She doesn’t tolerate questions or doubts or disobedience. She’s capricious, turning on the creatures She made and killing a bunch of them when She’s in a bad mood. She punishes indiscriminately and disproportionately. She wagers human lives like gambling chips. The kids were supposed to be dead no matter who won the bet.

I think it’s interesting that Crowley is the one who introduces the idea in season one of “What if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning.” That’s probably a comforting thought to Aziraphale, soothing his anxieties about going against Heaven right when he is feeling acute distress at the idea of no longer having a side. (And, in that particular moment, no longer even having a bookshop.)

But it’s not a comforting thought to Crowley. Have you seen what happens when God has a plan for you? It fucking sucks. Woe betide you if you’re the Barbie God decides to play with today. (At bare minimum, you’re coming back with some burn marks and a weird haircut.)

I’ve brought up the line “There are no right people. There’s just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us” before, and I tend to focus on the “there are no right people” part. But also, there’s just God.

Aziraphale tends to draw a distinction between God’s will and Heaven’s orders when it suits him, and collapse that distinction when it doesn’t. Crowley almost never differentiates between God and Heaven. There’s just God, and She’s not going to explain why this is happening or listen to pleas for mercy (although Crowley still tries). You can’t trust Heaven or Hell, and you can’t count on God to show up and make everything all right. Sometimes God is in fact the reason that things are not all right. You’re on your own.

(And. Look. Crowley is right on this one. There are certainly aspects of their relationship where they’re both equally responsible for things being a shitshow, but the text is pretty unambiguous about Crowley, a demon, having the most accurate read on the nature of God in the world of Good Omens out of any of the metaphysical characters.)

Crowley rebuilt his entire sense of self, alone, after the Fall. He created himself anew and developed his own moral compass and sense of identity independent of both Heaven and Hell. “The angel you knew is not me.” When Crowley does the right thing, that’s not his angel-ness shining through; that’s just Crowley.

And from a like, trauma recovery point of view, it’s actually very healthy for him to have the realization that sometimes God’s just kind of a dick. He didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out of Heaven. None of them did. Just God messing them about because She didn’t like being questioned, or She wanted to see what would happen, or She needed two sides for Reasons and didn’t much care who was on one or the other, or She’s playing some fucked up little game for Her own amusement. (And if there was some Great Plan that required Crowley to fall…well, that is also fucked up. Because it doesn’t matter if there was a reason. It still hurt.)

And while Crowley in general is extremely patient with Aziraphale and his slow, halting journey away from Heaven…it’s gotta sting, every time Aziraphale doesn’t want to believe that God could be cruel, when Crowley is standing right fucking there. It’s gotta hurt when Aziraphale refuses to see something that Crowley knows to be true through his own lived experience. Because it should be enough. What happened to him should be enough to make someone who loves him walk away from Heaven and never look back. And it isn’t.

But of course Crowley is one hundred percent not going to talk about this, if he is even fully self-aware about having these thoughts, because it’s far too painful and vulnerable. (He talks to plants, goats, God, and no one in a bar at the end of the world, but never to Aziraphale.) And so he says “Tell me you said no” and “I think I understand a lot better than you do” because he can’t say Choose me. Just this once, choose me and he can’t say Believe me.

And Aziraphale is not going to think about all this and work it out for himself, because he has a massive lump of denial centered around exactly this thing, that sometimes God hurts people who didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’m sure he’s thought about the Fall in abstract terms, enough to be afraid of it, but not in terms of this is a thing that happened to a person I love. And he has certainly not allowed himself to draw any conclusions about the nature of God from it, because that is far too scary a prospect.

And so they’re stuck. Until they can figure out how to remove this massive landmine from the center of their relationship, they are going to keep having the same fight over and over again, and they’re going to keep hurting each other without fully understanding why.

#do you know HOW HARD it is to write genuine ideological conflict that also feels deeply personal?? and they did it SO WELL #i am in awe tbh #good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #heaven #hell #god #the god in good omens is not nice and you can’t convince me otherwise #is a tag i have from s1 and i’m sticking with it #fall thoughts

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punkpandapatrixk · 4 months ago

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⛩Lion’s Gate Portal to Xxx ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Happy Lion’s Gate Portal to Xxx…! From X (infinite possibilities) to hyperspecific manifestation of things, events and people that are meant to inspire, excite and serve your Highest Intended Good! What collective do you belong to? What timeline of Humanity are you on?

Laced with the aenergy of the last Full Buck Moon in Capricorn/Aquarius (21 July), this Lion’s Gate Portal is ushering in a general sense of excitement like you’ve just graduated an important chapter of spiritual education~\`★_★`/

From here, you’re in a brand-new Reality offering brand-new sensations, experiences and opportunities. There is a mega-influx of high-vibe money, non-slavery work opportunities, spiritually-inclined connections and mutually-beneficial friendships for those who have taken it upon themselves to transcend above silly ego-driven drama default to this Matrix of misery. From here, Integrity is your Key to creating a perfect existence.

Enter the Neo Reality. Let the day begin!

SONG: Let the Day Begin by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

DOCUPUNK: Punk: Attitude | Full Documentary | Qwest TV

deck-bottom: 5 of Swords, Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman), Priestess of Integrity

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Opened a Whole Portal to a Perfect Existence!

‘Listen. I’ve got this dream. I never told anyone and it acquired dust. But I can’t ignore it anymore. I’ve decided not to look away from the innocence that is myself!’ – Get No Satisfaction! by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – Page of Wands

Of all the Piles, I feel the most ‘orderly’ aenergy from you. In spite of passion and motivation, there’s a strong sense of ‘control’ and order in the way you’re creating your new Reality. This sense of order and control isn’t of the egoic control-freak variety; rather, it is a result of your having complete trust in the flow of Divine Timing.

You’ve entered this Reality where everything you’re able to perceive is nothing but a possibility. So yes, as long as you want it, it can be possible for you. You’re now in a flow state of choosing only those possibilities that serve your highest good whilst contributing something meaningful to your immediate surrounding. In essence, I think you’ve become a true spiritual master!

From this chapter onwards, your stories and events and rendezvous will serve as a mirror to reflect back how much you’ve grown as a spiritual being in a Human body. You will be serving your purpose more closely to your original Blueprint. Many of you will find yourself being a teacher, healer or guide of some sort in many of your daily interactions.

cells full of Light – Knight of Pentacles

And yet, here you are teaching and guiding others, but you’re also gaining even more new perspectives from the people you’re helping. So you’re both nourishing and inspiring and amplifying each other. The people you’re guiding and helping are truthfully also on their own way of learning how to teach and guide others beyond your scope.

So this is the kind of Neo Reality you’ve stepped into. An almost immaculate circle of good souls empowering and teaching each other. You’re actively building a more positively-oriented Reality that on a spiritual level goes far beyond what can be seen on the physical plane. This is your Soul Work, in essence.

From here, I see that money and other ‘types of abundance’ that will make Life easier on a material level will naturally trickle down your Reality in tandem with how you’re redefining your ‘sense of place’ in this new world. This new world where most of us are wired towards healing and becoming a much more joyful, psychologically-liberated versions of ourselves~

shifting straight into Xxx – 7 of Cups

There’s a sense of needing to choose your Reality. I should say, a sense of needing to choose certain elements and aspects of your Reality. At this point, you don’t have to worry about choosing wrongly. There’s practically nothing you could choose wrongly. Everything is a possibility, of which purpose is to be manifested and experienced.

Whatever happens, that’s for your highest enjoyment in this theatre of a Human Life~ Many of you will soon or probably has realised that quite nothing in this Universe is as serious as it seems. It’s all a play. This world is an illusion just like movies aren’t real. Just like video games aren’t real. We’re playing in it just for our Soul’s pure enjoyment.

The moment you become crystal clear about this is the moment you become absolutely clear about your manifesting abilities. And from there, you’re Doraemon. You can literally call forth any kind of experience or a sense of adventure by reaching into the pocket of your subconscious mind~

What’s contained in the subconscious often comes through in daydreams and fantasies, right? ;) Those are all your possibilities. You can entertain whichever you want and it’s yours!

DESIRED REALITY🔻🧡

collective dharma – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Fertility

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Held on for Dear Life, Now, You Can be Happy, Shorty~

‘I want to have more faith in myself. Someday, just like a flower… I want to offer a prayer to my future self. May you be happy.’ – Remedy by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – King of Swords Rx

This collective is one that has had to learn to tackle the shackles of their logical minds hahah Too much logic means little to no magic! You got it? I’m reminded of this idea that ‘you can’t plan around Luck’. Luck comes to your aid when you have complete faith in your endeavour. Lady Luck loves those who are confident and courageous.

That’s been one of your biggest life lessons in terms of your spiritual evolution. At the present time, I’m getting that you’ve pretty much managed to let your logic take a backseat. Of course, it’s still there and it’s very necessary for rational reasoning! But your logic is an observer who tends to counsel you when you need to be realistic about your next steps.

At this present time, I see that you’ve managed to let your higher heart—your intuition—take the wheel of your physical fortunes. You may be seeing a lot of angel numbers and other signs of SYNK. You’re in sync with your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides. Your faith in them—and in where you’re going—is actively opening many pockets of Luck in your current timeline!

cells full of Light – 6 of Wands Rx

Part of why you clung to so much logic before was that you lived amongst super judgemental bitches. Basically, society. Society for the most part comprises of very small minded, jealous fucks who don’t get happy when someone they know is met with fortune, right? That’s why society has a tendency to mock or underestimate those they deem ‘lucky’.

Society hates ‘lucky’ people; they instead LOVE those who struggle and suffer. I think in many ways you’ve had to deal with so much difficulty because you either let those types of mindsets affect your flow of manifestation, or, you yourself wholeheartedly believed that your manifestations and visions and goals could only be worthwhile if you crawled and worked under immense duress to get them.

That’s all in the past now. You’ve let all of that silly mindset become part of a dying paradigm. You ain’t playin’ like dat no mo. And those who can’t understand your level of chill can also die in that old paradigm. You aren’t the least bit concerned about what’s ‘normal’ anymore. From here, your Life is magick! And those who can understand you, will only find you inspirational, if not aspirational😉

shifting straight into Xxx – 7 of Wands

So there’s a sense of having ‘worked so hard’, but you understand that this is mainly your having worked so hard on shifting your internal paradigm. You held on for dear Life! Now, you’re in a completely different bandwidth of Reality. Upon finding this PAC, you may still be dealing with a feeling of always being ‘close’ to your goal. Just about there… Or, not enough effort yet… Not quite there yet…

But literally, this is just an echo of how you used to think about when and how your manifestations should come to your doorstep. Sooner than later, you’ll find yourself not caring anymore about the when or the how things are going to be presented to you. You’ll simply have the faith—the knowing—that what’s meant to be yours will never miss you.

Right now, if this is your main pile, you’re being advised to take it easy and plan little by little. Take as much time as possible to recover first from the stress of survival before you push yourself towards your goal again. From here, it’s not a warzone. It’s no longer you vs the world. From here, it’s Animal Crossing’s flower gardens LMAO Enjoy where you are. Enjoy this Reality you’ve worked hard to arrive at!

DESIRED REALITY🔻💜

collective dharma – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Stepping Out into the Open Sky, It’s A Brand-New World of Comfort

‘Blessings flowing over me, glowing, rolling over and over. Never want to go back to the way it was before. I hear someone whisper into my ear. I turn around but find nothing there. Until I look up and see colors of love raining down on me.’ – Colors by Sakamoto Maaya

chapter of triumph – King of Cups Rx

This is the Pile that previously dealt with an insane amount of psychological drama, karma, and trauma. It’s possible that you’ve indeed been given so much trauma by this world—this disappointing, disappointing world—but the main thing I’m getting is how you’ve triumphed over so many different streams of crazy in your head. I hope that illustration makes sense to you ^^

You’ve calmed down a lot. You’re no longer slave to your intense emotions that had often caused crippling anxiety. You had a lot of fears. You were possessed by so many demons. None was your fault tho. The world had given you so many reasons to be doubtful, and that made you incredibly fearful about some certain things that people take for granted.

But dang, you’ve simplified, haven’t you? You’ve learnt to do less. You’ve learnt to expect not so crazily—from yourself and others and even the Universe. You’ve truly learnt spiritual detachment, or soon to master it. You’ve realised now that you’re only responsible for how peacefully you can live your day to day every day~♪

cells full of Light – 6 of Swords

I see that you’ve left a lot of things, people, situations and places in the past. Do you feel somewhat lonely? It’s only normal but just so you know, you’re sailing above calmer waters, and by the end of this sailing, on some new land you will be meeting your Soul Tribe, and possibly even your romantic Destined Person ^^ So this is really only temporary no matter how long you feel you’ve been sailing in this ‘isolation’ mode.

‘Feel the world around you. Feel the world surround you,’ I think my music is saying that XD (I think it’s Ciggies After Sex) Truly a lot of things have changed and that you’ve become much stronger both in faith and your conviction. You jumped a fucking timeline and you’re not even existing in the same bandwidth of frequency as those things and people that used to scare you so much.

Just like The Fool in major arcana, you’re crashing and falling into this stream leading you towards true spiritual happiness and abundance~ There is nothing from the past that can follow you because the frequencies are simply different. And when you look up you’ll see the colours of Love raining down on you ^^ All is a shower of blessings from your Higher Self, Spirit Guides, Ancestors and Soul Tribes, as well as your Destined Person ♥︎

shifting straight into Xxx – Queen of Pentacles

For all of the spiritual work that you’ve done on yourself—which really echoes throughout the ages back and forth, affecting the past and the future positively—material abundance is yours to access. Some people who don’t truly understand ‘spirituality’ may think it’s funny how spiritual work is rewarded with money and other material possessions, but I’m sure you know better that we live in a material world XD

Having an abundance of munny, of currency, is proof that you’re living peacefully in the currents of chi. There is not so much resistance now between you and the whole of the abundance of Gaia. Best you do is maintain balance so you don’t fall out of the currents, right? Yes, as long as you maintain balance, in everything that you do and think, this material abundance is always going to be yours. Just…don’t go insane like those overnight millionaires who’ve ended up bankrupt in just 2 years. YKWIM?

I’m sure you already know how to strike a sane and sensible spiritual-material balance now and that’s the reason you’ve shifted into this prosperous paradigm. I see that you’re now able to afford whatever whenever you want. Keep reminding yourself of this: ‘My money bags refill faster than I can spend.’ Being financially abundant is such a beautiful thing because when you have more, you have more to share as well ^o^/

DESIRED REALITY🔻💗

collective dharma – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

unmatched charisma – Priestess of Enchantment

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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The Fall from the Heavens (37)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, attempted murder, descriptions of wounds and their effects, descriptions of the fight ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

Remember to read Alys POV before this chapter: click

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Jace's presence in Harrenhal was making him furious – although he was staying in his chamber, offended apparently at the whole world, he was irritated by the very fact that it was unclear when he intended to return to Dragonstone. His wife noticed his sullen mood and, to his satisfaction, decided to speak with her brother. What he heard when she returned to their quarters, however, shocked him more than relieved him.

"What?" He asked, hearing that this fool intended to take Alys Rivers with him.

"He fucks her?" He sneered, raising his eyebrows in amusement. His wife sighed heavily, burying her face in her hand, exhausted.

"I don't know. He didn't refer to her as his mistress, just his relative. Which in our family, unfortunately, leaves a lot of room for interpretation, as you know, uncle." She muttered, stroking her slightly rounded belly as she walked slowly to the window. He involuntarily chuckled at her words, shaking his head.

One of the things he had treasured about her since childhood was the irony she was able to frame with her own characteristic gentleness.

"He was seeing her without your permission?" He asked lowly, looking down at his fingers. His niece sighed heavily.

"Yes."

"Are you going to leave this insult unanswered?"

"I don't have the strength for it, Aemond. Let him do what he wants. He plans to leave for Dragonstone tomorrow morning."

He hummed under his breath, spreading out comfortably in his chair, satisfied.

"Wonderful."

They both shuddered as one of the guards walked into his chamber without warning. The man bowed before them.

"What is it?" He asked coldly.

"Your Grace. We have come across the trail of Larys Strong."

He got up from his seat and nodded at the man to come closer, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"Speak."

"Lord Strong was seen an hour's ride on horseback from Harrenhal. Someone noticed people moving around in the ruins of the old fortress at night and recognised a man limping on one leg among them." The man replied.

He pressed his lips together in contentment, thinking that the moment had arrived when he would finally be able to cut off the head of this viper and throw it to his wife at her feet.

"Assemble the troop. We leave at nightfall."

His wife watched from the sidelines as he and his commanders discussed how to plan their expedition.

He decided he would fly on Vhagar to raze Lord Strong to the ground.

"What if it's a trap? Doesn't that seem too easy to you?" She muttered uncertainly, stroking her lower abdomen in a nervous gesture with her trembling hand, looking up at him with her big eyes. He stared at her wordlessly, fastening the buckles of his leather coat, changing into his riding attire.

"I'm sure it's a trap. Nevertheless, it won't be much of one if I burn them alive." He hummed, grasping her face in his hands, placing a lingering, wet kiss on her forehead. He heard her swallow hard, stroking his shoulder.

"The fire won't reach him if he's hiding underground. Perhaps it would be better if I flew with you?"

Her suggestion made him boil with rage.

"I think you have completely lost your mind." He said coldly, his pupil narrowing dangerously in frustration.

"I will assign you my most trusted guards to look after our quarters. You are not to leave them until I return. Do you understand?" He asked drily, impatient.

She nodded her head.

His hands cupped her warm cheeks as he leaned in to place a comforting, tender kiss on her sweet lips, but he stopped in mid-motion when the door to his chamber opened.

He turned over his shoulder, frustrated, and saw Jace before his eyes. His nephew was breathing heavily, looking at him with wide eyes.

"I fly with you."

He snorted at his words, dropping his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

Gods, give me fucking patience, he thought.

"Don't make me laugh. Take your whore back where you came from, and get out of my sight." He growled, his wife lowered her gaze in horror and embarrassment. Her brother clamped his mouth shut at his words, furious.

"He wanted to kill my sister."

"Then stay with her and protect her as befits a man."

"I'm not going to stay here while you fight!" Jace exclaimed.

"So this is as always about your pride? Hm?" He hissed, dimly recalling the day he, Aegon and Luke had brought him a pig, finding it amusing that they could humiliate him so easily.

It was always about making him feel better at someone else's expense.

He walked towards him, towering over him, wanting to show him who was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world, who had the last word.

"You are our guest, nephew, and you are straining my patience. I tolerate you only for the sake of my wife and my child in her womb."

"My aunt saw a sea of blood in her dream. She thinks something is going to happen there. I want to take revenge on the man who tried to poison my little sister and her child. I ask you, uncle, to let me fly with you."

He looked at him for a moment, hesitating.

The witch's words made him feel uneasy and he didn't know what he thought about it himself.

"Aemond. Please." His wife mumbled, looking at him pleadingly, her fingers clenched on her stomach.

He licked his lips impatiently, sighed heavily and nodded.

The guard who had informed them of Lord Strong's location had shown his troop on the map where the fortress was, so he ordered his nephew to simply fly after him.

Soaring into the skies on the mighty Vhagar, he felt shivers, cold and discomfort running along his spine, some premonition and anxiety from which he was all tense and vigilant.

My aunt saw a sea of blood in her dream.

On the dragon's back they would have reached their destination faster than his soldiers, so they simply circled above them, adjusting their flight speed to maintain the effect of surprise.

After many minutes, he spotted a small, abandoned fortress, or rather its ruins, in the distance and pressed his lips together at the thought that fire couldn't do anything here – the stronghold was made of stone and they, according to his wife's words, were probably hiding underground.

They wasted no time and landed, heading inside immediately with they troop and torches – he ordered his soldiers to search thoroughly all the rooms of the fortress, himself with his nephew and his commanders descending into the underground, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

There were no signs of anyone's presence, the keep looked like it had been abandoned for years.

Something was wrong, he could feel it, and after a moment he heard the voice of one of the men behind him.

"Long live King Aegon!"

He only had time to turn around when he heard the sound of blades being drawn, one of the commanders swinging a dagger, intent on slitting his shocked nephew's throat. Jace lowered his torch, terrified, taking a few steps back.

"NO!" He shouted, furious, sliding his sword out, wanting to step in front of him and shield him, however, the other soldier stepped in his way.

"Do not protect this traitor, my Prince."

Without thinking about what he was actually doing, with one sweeping swish of his sword he decapitated the man, whose head fell with a loud thud to the ground. Not looking at his inert body, he rushed to the aid of his nephew, who drew his sword and tried to defend himself, pale and trembling with fear.

"UNCLE!" He called out in despair like a small child, trying to push one of his opponents away – there was something in his expression, in his dark eyebrows arched in terror and fear, in his bright eyes that reminded him of her.

He thought they resembled each other when he pushed him away and felt someone's dagger thrust into his back – he drew in a loud breath as he looked at his face full of disbelief, thinking he should have listened to her.

"NO!" He heard Jace shout, throwing himself towards him as he fell to his knees, his soldiers moved away, horrified, looking at him in disbelief.

"Gods, what have you done?" Shouted one of them, the other began to run away, followed by the others, throwing their torches to the ground, clearly afraid of what would befall them for what had happened.

The stab of that blade was not meant for him.

He clutched at his wound and hissed, feeling immense, burning pain, his warm blood beginning to run down his back. He heard the neighing of horses in the distance and then someone's screams as his nephew knelt beside him, trying to lift him up.

"– fuck – fuck,fuck,fuck,FUCK! –" Cursed Jace on the verge of crying, clamping his hand over his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

He thought, breathing heavily, terrified and shocked that he would die here, abandon her even though he had promised himself he would never leave her again.

"– I want to see her face one more time –" He muttered in a trembling voice, afraid of what could come, afraid of death, afraid of what his family would do with her when he was gone.

If they believe it was Jace who killed him, that this was all a trap set for his life.

"– you'll, uncle – come on – just don't fall asleep –" Jace gasped, throwing his arm over his neck in an attempt to rise with him. He shuddered and drew in a breath as a stocky, bearded man rushed in, panting heavily, his palms in blood.

He looked at them with wide eyes as if he had seen a ghost, holding a torch in his hand.

"Good gods." He muttered.

He couldn't remember much of what happened next – he felt the man helping Jace lead him outside, all around him the screams of men being butchered like animals on the orders of the man who had come to their aid.

He felt it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open, his head was humming, warm blood running down his leg.

"– just a little more – don't fall asleep, uncle – don't fall asleep –" He heard Jace's voice as if in the distance.

He closed his eyelid, praying to the gods to protect his wife if they decided his time had come, to let her give birth to his child without pain, to let her see Essos as he had promised her.

He hissed loudly as someone picked him up and then began to pull him onto something rough – he felt someone slide him into the saddle, and then someone's figure sat behind him before rising into the sky a moment later, the crisp, chilly night breeze cooling his hot face.

"– don't fall asleep, uncle – hold on –" He heard his nephew's pleading voice and hummed sleepily under his breath, remembering her face.

When he closed his eyes, he saw her standing in front of him, terrified and flooded with tears then, when he lost his eye.

He felt a similar pain, though not in his face, and had trouble concentrating, her words seeming to him to be mere mumbles coming from afar.

"– I'm with you – you won't die – you won't die –"

He shuddered and opened his eyes, a loud hiss came from his throat as he felt a stinging, deep pain in his back. The sound he made woke up the person who was apparently lying next to him – she had risen, but in the darkness of the chamber he could not see her face, however, he immediately recognised her scent.

Vanilla.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, trying to lift his hand towards her, but he was unable to and it fell numbly to the bedding.

"– I am here, my beloved –" He heard her whisper beside him, her gentle, soft hand touching his hot cheek.

He sighed quietly, feeling a squeeze in his heart and throat at the thought that she was not disgusted by him, that she still loved him despite the fact that he would forever be crippled.

"– I knew you would come –" He said quietly, seeing her silhouette leaning over him as if through a mist, her puffy, moist lips placed a kiss on his forehead.

"– do you still want to marry me? –" He asked with difficulty, breathing hard, feeling that through the fever his eye were closing again, but he needed to hear it.

He needed to be sure that the great scar he would have on his face from now on and the absence of his eye did not cross him out as her future lover and husband.

Her figure froze, her thumb stroking his jaw.

"– uncle – we are married – I'm expecting your child –" She whispered in a trembling voice, gently grasping his wrist, guiding his hand to her slightly rounded lower abdomen.

He swallowed hard, furrowing his brow, and then looked at her, suddenly understanding, feeling tears burning under his eyelids, involuntarily smiling.

"– I have married you –"

"– yes, my love – I am your wife and you are my husband –" She said softly, leaning towards him, her sweet, moist lips pressed against his in a warm, tender kiss, from which his heart thumped harder in his chest.

"– you promised me that you would take me to Essos – you can't leave me now –" She mumbled out in a breaking voice, nuzzling her forehead against his, her gentle hands stroking tenderly his heated, sweaty cheek.

"– never, my sweetest – never –"

He whispered, feeling calm, and after a moment a quiet, warm darkness enveloped him.

When he woke up again, he was blinded by the brightness; he hissed and raised his hand, trying to cover his face. He heard someone get up from a chair and walk over to the bed, sitting down next to him on the sheets.

"– Aemond –" He heard his mother's voice and blinked, running his hand over his face, wondering if it was a dream. Her familiar fingers caught his wrist, squeezing it tightly, as if she needed to make sure he was really awake.

"– my son –" She muttered in a trembling voice. He lowered his hand and saw her face, pale and swollen from the tears she had clearly had to shed over his bed for days.

He could not remember what had happened and why he felt such a terrible pain in his back.

"– where am I? –" He choked out, sighing heavily, tilting his head back, feeling like his skull was about to burst.

"– in Harrenhal – you had a fever for days and were delirious –" She explained, taking his hand in hers, stroking it affectionately. "– I arrived as soon as I found out – Daemon is here too –"

He swallowed hard, memory after memory regaining his awareness of what had happened, Jace's terrified face and the blade stuck in his back.

Don't fall asleep, uncle.

He looked at her in horror, looking around.

"– where is Rhaenys? –" He asked, tense and concerned that she was not by his side, that perhaps someone was trying to hurt her while he lay in bed, unaware of anything. His mother furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"– who? –" She asked, as if she didn't understand what he meant.

He felt a cold sweat on his back at the thought that her silhouette lying by his side was merely a figment of his fever-ignited imagination.

"– my niece –" He muttered. His mother nodded, and it was only then that he realised that no one but him had called her by that name.

"– she sleeps – she stayed by your side for days and nights, but we feared it would harm both her and the baby – her brother persuaded her to rest –" She explained, stroking his hand with hers.

He closed his eyelid, feeling incredibly, wonderfully relieved at her words.

"What happened?"

His mother pressed her lips together, lowering her head.

"Your wife sent a letter to your brother-king. It appeared that Lord Strong, in consultation with your grandfather, wished to deprive Rheanyra of her two children and her dragons in one fell swoop. While Jace was to be murdered away from the fortress, your niece was to be abducted so that your grandfather could pact with you for you to join the war, but with the help of Alys Rivers she hid in her chamber."

He stared at her with wide-open eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat and discomfort in his stomach, a cold sweat running down his back.

Your niece was about to be abducted so that your grandfather could pact with you for you to join the war.

"They wanted Daemon and Rhaenyra to believe that it was you who betrayed them. That you had such a plan all along, to take revenge on her for your eye."

She whispered, looking at him with a sad, tired look.

Only after a moment did he realise that his mother's gown was black.

"Your brother-king sentenced my father to death."

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