#god I love his expressions in this gif/scene

[zer0pm]

Imagine the reason why you failed to meet up with Leon and Ashley was because Luis kept leading you both into trouble.

You should have left this man in the sack.

You knew the moment he opened his mouth that you should have slapped the tape back on and turned around. Because he looked like trouble, more trouble than he was worth. And so far for however long you’ve been stuck with him, he hasn’t proven you wrong. Luis Serra is unequivocally the most insufferable man you have ever met.

“Remind me again how we got ourselves in this situation,” you huffed, the weight of your back pressed firmly against the door. The Spaniard is beside you, also using his weight to help keep the door closed. More accurately, to keep the monsters outside from forcing their way in and tearing you two to pieces. You can practically feel the wood splintering under each aggressive push and you both were struggling to keep hold.

The man’s face contorts to a slight wince, grey eyes cast down to the ground in mild guilt. “You know, my friend, everything happened so quickly. To recall every causal detail would be-”

“It was a rhetorical question!” you snap at him with an exasperated glare, your patience completely run thin. A violent jolt of the door nearly splits the wood off its hinges, raising the tension. “We can’t stay here forever, we got to do something.”

“De acuerdo.” Luis nods, quickly scanning the room for an exit. The dimly lit space was enclosed with no other obvious doors leading to another area but his eyes fall upon a tall wardrobe that looked hardly big enough for two people. He makes eye contact with you with a telling glint in his gaze and you immediately catch onto his plan. An unenthusiastic groan reverberates from your throat before you throw him a committed nod.

He adjusts his stance and waits for you to follow suit while you both were still supporting the door on its weakening frame. “On my count… ¡Uno-!”

Your whole body surges forward as you’re suddenly ripped away from the door by a strong hand around your wrist and practically dragged to the wardrobe. Luis pulls you into a tight embrace before hurriedly backing you both inside the enclosed space, using his free hand to seal the opening behind you shut.

You were about to yell at him asking what the hell happened to “two” and “three” but thought better of it at the terrifying sound of wood thunderously breaking from outside.

Booming footsteps stomp by your hiding spot and ominous mutterings in Luis’ native tongue fills the room. Judging by the varying noises, you deduce that there were at least a handful of plaga hunting you. To take them on in such tight quarters would be suicide so the best that either of you can hope for is that they eventually leave with the impression that you and Luis miraculously disappeared into another part of this godforsaken castle.

As you wait anxiously for your pursuers to give up their search here, you finally realize your close proximity to Luis. The space within the wardrobe was so tight, every inch of the front of your body pressed his. His spicy musk fills your nostrils, making you go dizzy. His breath fans against your lips and you subconsciously breathe it in, tasting his air upon your tongue. His body heat wraps around you with a warmth so inviting that you felt yourself tempted to lean into him. Being so close to this man was dangerous, he is standing still and yet already he’s overwhelming your senses effortlessly, ensnaring you in a mesmeric daze.

Luis feels you shudder and instinctively snakes the hand that was on your back to your shoulder, squeezing gently in a considerate attempt to ease your tensions. The comforting gesture makes you relax and you unwittingly fall into his hold. In the darkness, your noses bump. You immediately feel the muscles of his body stiffen, realization also clicking in his mind of your shared closeness.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you moved. The sudden stillness causes your heart to pound in your chest harder than the looming dangers just a few feet away, survival becoming a mere afterthought and discarded in the back of your mind. Then finally, as if you are in a trance, you make the first move.

Your hands on his shoulders glide to his thick neck, thumbs curiously caress along the quickening pulse throbbing beneath the skin. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs heavily under your soft touch. His warm breathing falls shallow, mingling with yours and turning the air between you two hot, thick, and heavy. You wished then that you can see his eyes, know what he was thinking. But the darkness obscured your vision and it was imperative that you two remained quiet while enemies lingered nearby, so every mood and intent that you can possibly think of can only be speculated by physical cues. But there were none. Aside from the hand on your shoulder, Luis remains completely stagnant.

Another expectant moment and still he does nothing. Disappointment slowly creeps into your heart and you began to remove your hands from his neck. The sound of rough scratching along the floorboard makes you twist your head in attention.

And that is when you felt it. The unmistakable softness of lips pressed upon the lobe of your ear. If you didn’t turn your head to the side-

Shivers tingle down your spine, sparks set off across your entire body. A sharp intake of breath escapes you and you thought for certain that you have forsaken you both. However, the steps and voices outside the wardrobe have receded, followed by the familiar scratching on the ground. Then all fell into silence.

Is it safe?

“Hueles bien,” his husky voice whispers absentmindedly, but you didn’t catch it over the sound of your blood pumping.

You whisper back, “What?”

Luis stutters, “I-I said that I think we’re good now.”

You’re fairly certain he wasn’t being truthful but didn’t press the matter. As carefully as you could, you place your hand behind you against the wardrobe opening, pushing slightly to peak outside, grateful that it did not creak. You don’t see anything in your immediate field of vision and no suspicious shuffling can be heard. Deciding to press your luck, you open the door further and was met with relief to find that the plaga are completely gone from the room. You leave the tight space first and newfound anxiety washes over you when you turn to meet Luis who also steps out of the wardrobe and is now meeting your eyes.

A lit torch that hung on the stone wall beside you illuminated his handsome face, giving his skin a nice warm glow. But his expression was neither warm or cold. In fact, it was unreadable, just like his eyes right now which are focused solely on you. The memory of his lips on your skin comes back burning to the forefront of your mind and you couldn’t help but reach up to touch the spot with your fingertips. His grey eyes follow your movements, lingering on the spot, and they seemed to glint anew under the flame’s light. The cracks in his stony expression giving way to emotions that you recognized immediately. They were familiar to you, because you wore them as well.

Anticipation and desire.

They still ran through you now and pumped your burning hearts with deep want. But again, you both do nothing. Simply locked in a perpetual state of longing.

Luis clears his throat, effectively breaking the spell. “I should, uh-”

“-check if the coast is clear.” you finish for him.

He nods, “Sí, sí.” And with that, he steps away from you, almost regretfully so, striding over to the shattered doorframe and ducking his head out in search of any further potential dangers. As soon as his back was turned, you sigh out all of the tension that you were holding inside your lungs.

A million thoughts ran in your head and they are all about Luis. Yes, the Spaniard had a way of getting on your nerves. The man was practically an expert in raising your blood pressure. But at the same time, there was no denying that you are helplessly charmed by him. And from how Luis was acting just now, it seems you affect him the same way as if you both are drawn to each other like magnets. This growing attraction makes things very complicated. And now is not the time for complications. You have to reunite with Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham.

Mentally, you slap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. While Luis was still keeping a lookout, you took the time to observe your surroundings and notice scratches along the floor. Your eyes follow the marks all the way to the stone wall across from you. Driven by curiosity, you approach the wall and feel alongside the cracks, catching a distinctive line that runs around, making a large shape. In the middle of the shape is the torch that serves as the only source of light in the room, burning brightly in its sconce. The holder hangs awkwardly on the stone, angled in a way as if it has been disturbed. Your eyes flash wide in understanding. So this is where your infected hunters disappeared to. Ingenius. You wondered if they were still on the other side searching for you and Luis but decided not to even entertain the idea by touching the torch. Luis’ voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Okay, no plaga around. We’re good to go,” he says assuringly, returning to your side. “It’s dark out there, though. So we’re going to need a light.”

His grey eyes follow your gaze and perk up at the sight of the torch. “Esto. This will do nicely,” his hand reaches for it.

Alarms go off in your head. “No, wait-!”

But it was too late. The moment he grabbed the sconce with one hand in order to pull the torch out of it with the other, the support shifts under his weight and somewhere within the wall, foreboding clicks of a mechanism triggering fills the air.

Oh no.

The wall gives way. You and the dark-haired man quickly jump away from it and behind the space it once occupied, more torches came into view, illuminating the darkness- all held by a pack of familiar infected cultists. All who now had eyes dead set on you both. For the umpteenth time in this room, palpable tensions run high. And once again, your companion tries to breaks it.

“Uh, hehe. Hola, mis amigos,” Luis greets nervously, donning a charming yet shaky grin before pretending to look around in bewildered embarrassment. “¡Esto no es el baño!”

You didn’t even have time to reproach him, flight instinct immediately kicking in. “Run!” you yell and the two of you sprint out of the room through the broken exit, murderous growls and vehement shouts trailing close behind.

Running frantically through a series of corridors, dodging hatchets and crossbow bolts, the both of you shove through a set of double doors and found yourselves in what looks to be the remains of a grand ballroom. Luis throws the torch down one of the large holes on the floor and ducks inside an inconspicuous pile of rubble with an evidently spacious interior, dragging you down along with him. Sweat poured down your faces as you sat in the small space in fearful anticipation. Your relentless hunters enter the ballroom, running past the both of you and lingering around in pursuit. There were small openings in the rubble that allowed you to observe their movements with bated breaths. Thankfully after a few minutes, they were all far away.

You whisper to Luis, “We’re going to need some help.”

Wholeheartedly agreeing with your statement, the man grabs the communication device from his person and presses a series of buttons. He muffles the rings from the comm in his hands and after a few seconds, the other line picks up.

“Luis, where are you two?” It was Leon’s voice that came through the static, his face lit up on the small screen. He did not seem happy. Makes sense as you were supposed to meet him and Ashley with their suppressants ages ago.

“Sorry,” Luis frowns. “We, uh, we screwed up-”

“We?!” you hiss under your breath.

“Come to our rescue, Prince Charming.”

“Give me that!” you snap at him through gritted teeth, ripping the comm from the Spaniard’s hand. “Leon, we’re trapped in the ballroom past the courtyard. Place is crawling with monsters.”

Upon seeing the genuine distress on your face, Leon’s expression changed to that of determination, “Standby. We’re heading your way now.”

“Don’t be late to the dance.” Luis chimes in, leaning over your shoulder to look at the blonde in the comm.

You narrowly catch the annoyed glare in Leon’s eyes before the man pressed to your side ends the call with a push of a button. Too exhausted to express your frustration for his behavior, you opted to make yourself comfortable in the new hiding spot. It was hardly better than the wardrobe as you were forced to be seated, but at least you weren’t packed against each other like sardines, touching only by the shoulders this time around. And you were able to move your arms and legs freely too.

Still, you found yourself missing Luis’ enveloping warmth, missing his protective arm around your body, missing his soft lips upon your skin. You felt the temperature in your cheeks rise again.

“This one is on me,” you hear him say lowly, his tone apologetic.

You shake your head, willing your desire in check in favor of attempting to alleviate his guilt, “At least this spot is a little more spacious.”

The man hums thoughtfully. “Sí. Pero… I’ll be honest, my friend,” he muses aloud, “I preferred the wardrobe.”

You turn your head towards him when he said this. He didn’t meet your curious gaze, seemingly intent on keeping watch for the plaga through the openings of your shared hiding place. It gave you a moment to look him over, attentive eyes wandering from the thick locks of his dark hair, to the butterfly lashes of his eyes, to the attractive shape of his nose and cheekbones until they stopped at his thick neck and broad jawline. The sight brings you back to when you touched him, your hands itching to reach up to him again but your seated position didn’t allow you to do so. Instead, you brush the back of your hand against his. He reflexively twitches upon your subtle caress. Luis still isn’t looking at you, but you can hear his breath hitch. These are the signs you were looking for.

“Well, as long as we’re both being honest,” you sigh, putting your head on his shoulder, secretly relishing in your closeness to him. “Me too.”

For a moment, you thought he would say and do nothing again. But then his hand lifts to intertwine his fingers with yours, clasping your palms together. A new kind of warmth washes over you as the pad of his thumb softly strokes across your skin. Another hand grasps your chin gently, guiding you to look up at him.

You expected anticipation and desire to return to his eyes, but something much deeper, much fiercer, and much more intimate burns within those magnetic grey irises. His head dips down towards you, your noses bumping into one another again, and his mouth lingers over yours. This time, you won’t turn away.

“¿Es cierto?” His low voice is barely above a whisper, dripping huskily with tender yearning.

Luis Serra is trouble. He makes things complicated. But right now as you two close the distance between your wanting lips- complications be damned.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #resident evil 4 #luis serra imagine #re4 luis #re4 remake #resident evil imagines #gender neutral reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 remake #god I love his expressions in this gif/scene #there was an opportunity #for a naughty closet scene #oh well #¯\ (ツ) /¯ #maybe I’ll write it if people read these tags #my writing #zer0pm imagine #bit of a long one #please enjoy

[lemonworldmp3]

"what do you even know of godhood? in your lifetimes, has anyone ever worshipped you? ever prayed to you? can you even imagine that kind of love?"

GOD OF WAR RAGNAROK, 2022

#kratos #god of war #god of war ragnarok #gowedit #godofwaredit #gamingedit #dailygaming #god of war ragnarok spoilers #gif #* #this scene got me good. im still sobbing about it #i'll never get over the amount of care and detail that was put into each one of kratos' expressions #his movements. that stumble. the tentativeness of his hand. #the tears. #chris judge i love you

[pinkyjulien]

Mitch Anderson | 256/?? 🚬

#Cyberpunk 2077 #Mitch Anderson #Aldecaldos #Screenshot #Gif #TEEHEE YEAH I used to make Gif too 😳👉👈 this an old set #I should get back to it- I mean... I been doing some but these are NSFT ghfhgf #ALSO ALSO... Lemme scream about the way CP77 animates the characters's eyes #cause it makes them look so damn realistic?? Y'know? It gotta be one of the hardest thing to get right #those movements- eyes don't exactly move smoothly y'know like we look at things by 'jumping' to them its not Smooth #AND THEY GOT IT SO RIGHT #every single micro expressions fucking Send me #I've spent HOURS sitting looking at Mitch during every scenes he's in ghfhgfhhgf #I'm obsessed- you can tell his brain is full ghfhgfh full of thoughts #god I love him so much 🤡🤏

[aitogi]

[戦国無双] ~四国遠征の章~ [Sengoku Musou] ~Shikoku Ensei no Shou~

#samurai warriors #sengoku musou #chosokabe motochika #akechi mitsuhide #gif set #butai #stageplay #translations by me #this is one of my favorite scenes from the stageplay the heaviness the slow pacing of the dialogue the expressions the TEARS #motochika is as strong as steel like the love of your life just asked you to just let them die and he just said o k #the instant understanding between the two of them at that moment is also so well done #and then chika had to WATCH mitsu die my god the moment he loses his composure and yells his name and throws himself to the ground AHHHfkgm #and then just to destroy him further mitsu says the sea line I SCREAMED #all the raging grief and hopelessness chika feels for the rest of the play is so well justified #a thousand praises for chika's actor i mean wow

[todayisafridaynight]

welcome back to I Obsess Over Mine’s Face Too Much And The Subtle Way He Expresses today’s episode This Shit

#snap chats #i remembered i can make gifs so if i ever do this shit again i can provide my evidence <3 #ANYWAY NO PLEASE I JUST. I JUST LOVE THE WAY HIS EYES SHIFT AND HOW HIS EYEBROWS TWITCH #god say what you want about Y3 but it really was phenomenal with body language and expressions #like you can just FEEL mine's hesitancy and his hurt here #GOD even his outburst to kiryu after this is so good #like obviously he's enraged and pissed but he's also hurt by the fact he knows kiryu's right- he just doesnt want to admit it #UGH so good rooftop scene really was Peak wasnt it #definitely worth the hell of playing the rest of the game-- #anyways yeah i was taking a break from drawing mine to gush about mine wow what else is new #ill have that doodle finished in a sec ima just eat real quick

[cobragardens]

My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 1601 #good omens microexpressions #good omens headshake #angelfish #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fanalysis

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Parallels in Unknown Episode 9

God I love the physicality in this show.

I will preface by saying once more that Kurt is doing a great job in his role as Yuan, especially lately with all the pushing and prodding Yuan has been doing to Qian, but I once again find myself having to highlight the masterful performance of Chris Chiu.

Wei Qian is a very tense and quiet character in a show that uses voice overs sparingly. This means that Chris has a very difficult job in conveying Qian’s inner monologue through body language alone. Without uttering a word we know what Qian is thinking; what he’s feeling; we understand the depth, the weight of his care for the people he loves.

For Episode 9, I want to talk about parallels. Parallels and how effectively Unknown is able to use them to bring maximum emotional devastation:

gif by @ueasking

We open with a flashback to Lili and Yuan as kids, to Lili trying to get out of going to school because she is worried the world is going to end. We open with a line from Qian:

“Even if the world comes down, I’ll hold it up.” 

Y’all. That line hit me like a 16 wheeler, holy fuck. This is the summary of Qian’s life, of his goals, of his struggle. Qian’s never had the luxury to live in a world that wasn’t falling apart. But he’s spared Yuan and Lili (especially Lili) from the trauma and the abuse and the pain he has suffered. He is already holding everyone’s worlds together, and that line struck me as the deepest and most beautiful profession of love. And of course, because he is acting as a parent to these kids he has to follow it with an empty threat.

The kids head off to school, but before the door closes behind Yuan he turns around, he looks Qian right in the eye and he says

“Ge, if the world comes down, we’ll hold it up together.”

gif by @ueasking

Double homicide. A perfect expression of Yuan’s devotion to Qian, Qian who very rarely experiences reciprocity. Qian spent a large portion of his life being uplifted and supported by the people around him: Le-ge, San Pang and his family, Xiong this is true, but for Qian most of those feel like or literally are debts to be repaid. He said it to Le-ge in this episode “I will pay you back everything I owe”, in Episode 1, Qian tells San Pang he’ll pay him back when San Pang covers his bills, Xiong helped kick start Qian’s career, but he’s in business with Xiong now so Qian’s success is Xiong’s success. Yuan is the only person to whom Qian owes nothing, and Yuan is the only person who is trying to care for him back without being owed.

Because this show has been looping in my head, I’ve been thinking a lot about trauma. The first scene we see of Qian and Yuan together, Yuan holds out a metal pipe in defense and Qian has an immediate flashback to his own childhood and the abuse he had suffered. Qian immediately establishes a connection to Yuan that he never will with Lili because Qian was incredibly successful in shielding Lili from the harshness of the world. We don’t see the trauma Yuan must have experienced as a kid, but we get the snippets, the ties in to Qian’s experiences, the illness, the hunger. Yuan has suffered, and Qian has saved him, and Yuan understands the burden that comes with care. Yuan is devoted to Qian, Yuan does not want Qian to hold everything he’s carrying all by himself.

Yuan has always been like this, and will always be like this for Qian.

Despite the overarching structural problems I had with this episode, I do think there was a strong thematic thread in paralleling space and physical touch all the way through.

The Letter

Qian discovers this letter in a box under Yuan’s bed. 

“In my life, I’ve been driven by a deviant and sharp obsession” 

Qian tenses up, taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandering away from the page. He literally has to mentally prepare himself to continue reading Yuan’s words 

“Looking back, there’s nothing else. But if my life were to cease all of a sudden-” Qian barely moves his head to finish reading, instead just casts his eyes downward.

“-not seeing you one last time would be my greatest regret” 

Qian moves the paper downward, and he looks away. Legitimately, Qian looks at that letter for as short a time as he physically possibly can. 

I’m mentioning the letter because the face that Qian makes when he is reading it is a recurring character throughout this entire episode. Because we see that face again almost immediately when Qian is at H.O.T.. That man is fully dissociating in his meeting, his mind is not at work at all. He is a statue sitting there with exactly the same face he was making when he read the first few words of Yuan’s letter. And it is not until everyone else but San Pang has walked away that he breaks from that thought paralysis and turns to get San Pang’s opinion. Dissatisfied with San Pang’s response and knowing that Yuan was hiding something from him and has not responded to his phone calls, Qian seeks additional answers. 

Rescuing Yuan

In Episode 1, Qian figures out Yuan is in trouble because he gets a phone call from Yuan’s teacher saying that Yuan applied for a leave of absence, he freaks out and goes straight to the pool hall where he barges in yelling and fighting his way to Le’s door. The second he gets in the room, he barrels straight towards Hu and grabs him by the collar. Qian has to be held back by multiple people in order to stop him from laying waste to everyone there, and the second Le-ge tells his people to let Qian go, Qian starts running straight to Le to fight him and has to be held back once more. 

While Qian is being detained, he is looking around wildly, face a perfect picture of rage and desperation. When Yuan is brought out and Qian is released, he runs straight to Yuan and pulls him in to a hug and they start to walk away, arms linked to each other’s backs in support and connection. 

And it sticks as such a vivid memory in my head that I had a visceral reaction to seeing how Qian has changed over time. Because in Episode 9 he knows something is wrong, you can see the worry behind his eyes when he tells San Pang that Yuan hasn’t answered his phone. And San Pang leaves him sitting there, still mulling over everything. When Qian enters the restaurant to talk to Le he appears calm (though there is very clearly a storm brewing inside him), he enters slowly. He is tense, and frustrated, and trying to contain it all. He is trying to keep himself calm. This is a very political conversation. He pours beer for Le-ge, he drinks with him, but you can feel it in the way that Qian sits that his every thought is like a clock just ticking away until something bad happens to Yuan. 

“Le-ge can I ask a favor of you?” 

“What favor?”

“Help me find Yuan,”

“Are you asking me to help you find him or hand him back?” Le asks bemused and we get a jaw twitch from Wei Qian. Qian is seething, but he knows how Le operates and he’s older and wiser now so he can’t just enter the scene beelining towards Le with his fist ready for a face. As a child he was willing to fight Le, as an adult he has recognized Le more as an unfortunate ally who has all the power. Le and Qian roll up to the scene and we get a far more familiar Qian the second he exits the car and starts sprinting towards Yuan and immediately decks Hu right in the face to get him away from Yuan.

Again he tries to fight everyone that comes between them, again he is detained, being held back by multiple people, again Le and Hu fight while Qian is waiting to be released so he can run to Yuan. Again Le puts an ultimatum on their freedom, before it was a boxing match, now it is Russian Roulette.

When they are set free, Qian immediately runs to Yuan and grabs him like he did when they were running away. The way he looks at everyone when he has Yuan in his arms is exactly the same way he looked at everyone when he was reunited with Yuan the first time Yuan was taken from him by the gang. 

It’s all the same, the way they walk out together, the way they are made to pause, the way Qian’s face is snarling when he’s trapped. It’s all there.   

Russian Roulette

Now, we are all about reciprocity here so we get another really tragic parallel between the boxing scene in Episode 1 and the Russian Roulette scene in Episode 9. 

In Episode 1, it is Qian that is made to play Le’s game alone: win three boxing matches, he and Yuan get to leave the gang. But Le doesn’t let Yuan off scot-free here either, forcing him to stand there and watch Qian get beat to shit over and over and over again for Yuan’s sake. And we get Yuan being the one to call out to Qian. 

“Ge, stop fighting, let’s go home!” Yuan yells, and when Qian wins we see Yuan wiping tears away, and then screaming after Qian when his opponent sneaks up behind him. When Qian and Yuan are alone together after the fight, Yuan is crying and when Qian tells him not to cry he says: 

“Sorry. You wouldn’t have been in this fight if it hadn’t been for me,” which in this case is true for reasons outside of Yuan’s control. The things Qian has done for Le are informed by the care he has for Lili and Yuan, but Yuan is not himself the cause of the problem. 

In Episode 9 however….he walks right into the gang as if that is going to do anything, and has to be rescued by Qian. This time, though Yuan does not (or at least has yet to) say it, Qian would not have been in this fight with Hu and the rest of the gangsters if it wasn’t for Yuan. 

Similarly to Episode 1, Le-ge gives an ultimatum to their release, Russian Roulette. Where before we had three boxing matches, now we have three bullet chambers. And Yuan is old enough to protect Qian now, so Yuan volunteers to go first, and we get a role reversal. Before, Yuan had to watch, crying, as Qian fought and bled. Now, Qian is the one sobbing, having to watch Yuan get a gun to the head. Yuan looks at him and mouths “wo ai ni” and Qian immediately closes his eyes because cannot look at Yuan when the trigger is pulled, just as Yuan tried to look away when Qian was getting his skull bashed in in the boxing ring. 

Yuan gets tortured right back though when it is Qian’s turn to have the trigger pulled, all we hear over the background music is this desperate and broken pleading scream from Yuan to let Qian go. When the game is over and Qian is released he runs straight to Yuan and pulls him up stating “Let’s go home, we’re going home,” another direct parallel to Episode 1. 

THE HUG

Alright, my favorite devastating blow of the evening, the hug in Episode 9 and how it parallels the hug in Episode 1. Because there are two levels to this: 

photo of the photobook that @thisonelikesaliens was kind enough to send me. gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

The hug that Episode 9 more explicitly parallels, in my mind, is the hug that Qian gives Yuan right when they are reunited. He has that boy tucked in his arms, and is holding the back of Yuan’s head with his hand. It’s a very quick moment, but the intensity of Qian’s motion, the strength of his hug, the emotional core of that hug is evident in just the briefest of seconds and matches the intensity, the strength, and the emotional core of the hug in Episode 9. 

gif by @ueasking

Then you get a secondary parallel with the hug between Qian and Yuan after the boxing match, though it’s not as much of a 1:1 visual as the brief hug above. This is mostly in the changing heights, Yuan and Qian are on relatively the same level here. And you get the hand to the back of the head as a comforting thing which Qian is also doing to Yuan in today’s hug. 

In Episode 9, they are walking back home, it is dark, it is quiet. Qian stops dead in his tracks, the same look on his face as when he read the letter. He turns to face Yuan and clenches his fist because he needs that extra strength, it is taking everything in him to follow through on what comes next and then he just grabs Yuan and pulls him into a hug that parallels the hug they shared when Yuan was younger. Qian hugs Yuan like he is that small, scared boy even though Qian is now so much shorter than Yuan and Yuan is so much braver than he used to be.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

But unlike the hugs in Episode 1, I don’t think this one is intended to comfort Yuan. I think this time, it is Qian reaching out to Yuan for his own comfort. Because in Episode 1 it is Yuan who cries in to the forehead touch, in Episode 9 it is Qian who burrows his face into Yuan’s neck as hard as he can while his face contorts in sobs. This is not necessarily a parallel, but it is the moment of the episode that ruined my life so I needed to make sure that I took you all down with me with a reminder of this scene and a gif. Oh also, they hug in front of a giant pile of wood like they do with the forehead touch in Episode 1 because they HATE US. 

Fishing Conversation v. Letter Conversation

The two big conversations that Qian and Yuan have this episode are really interesting to me because of how they play with space. When Yuan and Qian are out fishing together, Yuan places himself directly in front of, directly next to Qian for the whole length of the conversation where he asks Qian his feelings. Here they are with allllll this space around them, the water, the earth, the air they can sit wherever, they can stand wherever, they can exist wherever they want and they sit half a breadth apart. 

“Four years ago you turned and left, four years later we’re back here. This is enough.” Yuan states

“Can you stop staring at me then?” Qian asks.

gifs by @ueasking

And that in itself is a parallel to Episode 6 and Yuan begging, pleading, clutching at Qian’s knee for him to look at him. Qian could not look Yuan in the eye from the second Yuan told him he was suffering until the moment he returned home, and now Yuan refuses to break eye contact. (And as an aside, it is a very good indication that Qian is warming up to Yuan’s feelings because he says this in a very light, almost joking way. And he follows it with an empty threat, like the empty threat he gave to Lili when she said she didn’t want to go to school, one that Yuan calls him on immediately.) Yuan moves back to his seat, but even then he does not keep any physical distance from Qian, immediately reaching over to grab Qian’s rod ;-)

At the end of the episode, we get a very differently blocked conversation. It starts with the camera focused on Qian as he ices the back of his head, a place we know has caused him continual problems since the boxing match. Yuan knocks before he enters (which he did for the first time last episode), gives Qian a glass of milk (which they’ve definitely done in this show before), and in response Qian (rightfully imo) yells at Wei Zhiyuan for being dumb, then confronts him with the letter. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Qian asks, and it’s the first time he looks at Yuan in the exchange and Yuan takes it, turns around, and walks away without a word. Yuan puts the letter away and goes to sit on a chair in his room, looking across the hallway at Qian. And this is one of my favorite parallels in the episode, because of what it is doing with distance. 

gif by @ueasking

Earlier in the episode Yuan and Qian were fishing together and engaging in very intense conversation about their feelings and their relationship to one another (or rather, Qian was undergoing an interrogation about his feelings and hearing once more Yuan’s feelings for him). With all that wide open space at the river they were essentially joined at the hip the entire time. But here, when there is another very intense conversation about to happen- one where Yuan is breaking some news to Qian that is almost guaranteed to make him feel all the more guilty for sending Yuan away and going no-contact -there is as much space between them as possible.

So despite the fact that they are in their house, in a much smaller space than the river, despite the fact that they started the conversation in Wei Qian’s room, one of the few places Qian has been vulnerable in front of his family (especially when intoxicated, triggered, or experiencing symptoms of his chronic health condition), one of the few places that Qian has allowed Yuan to be completely carefree, cuddly, and affectionate with him (even sharing a bed), this space Qian has fought tooth and nail to make safe for his family, Yuan does not tarnish it by being in the room with him for the conversation. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

No, instead Qian will get this information with as much physical and emotional distance between them as Yuan can muster. 

“...some people started writing their last words” causes Qian to break eye contact with Yuan, but his posture, his breathing, all the rest of his physicality remains the same. Until…

“Everything I own is yours, whether you want it or not,”

That is what breaks Qian. Throughout the conversation as he is hearing about Yuan getting trapped, as he is hearing about Yuan thinking he was going to die, he is stoic, he is stone faced, the most movement you see from him is his eyes looking Yuan up and down in concern and his breath getting slightly quicker with each word, the turn of his head. But here he closes his eyes, he looks down at the ground, he releases his breath. It hits him so hard, the knowledge that he could have sent Yuan away and never seen him again, he sent Yuan away and Yuan could have died, where Qian was not around to protect him. 

It is just such a good mirror to the fishing scene, I love it so much. 

#unknown the series #unknown #taiwanese bl #qian x yuan #unknown bl #unknown episode 9 #unknown meta #unknown analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown the series analysis #wka long post

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT "HE'LL MAKE IT BACK"

Special thank you to @mmobiuses, @starrose17, and @stevenrogered whose gifs make-up the lion's share of this post. Thank you to all the other amazing gif artists as well, without you, my metas won't be possible.

This might come as a surprise to a lot of people, but I actually wasn't big on Lokius until Season 2. I thought Loki and Mobius made a cute ship in Season 1, but that was the extent of it. In truth, I lost interest in the Loki series by the S1 finale and had 0 interest in watching S2. I didn't give the series another try until I saw positive reviews on Tumblr. I therefore started watching S2 when S2E4 dropped.

LOKI SEASON 1

Enjoying the potential love story between two characters is a deeply personal and subjective experience. So take what I say as my personal experience observing Loki and Mobius's relationship.

I fully believed Mobius loved Loki in S1 in the platonic sense. Tom Hiddleston has given a few interviews on Loki's and Mobius's relationship and seems to believe in this sentiment as well [see 5:30-7:30 and 10:57-11:00]).

That is to say, in S1, I didn't feel, "Oh, my god ... he loves him." It was more, "Yes, he loves him", there is no question, his actions prove it.

There is wiggle-room for unrequited love in the S1E4 interrogation scene, but the jealousy Mobius exhibited could have just as easily been a combination of anger on behalf of his murdered colleagues and platonic jealousy.

However, I felt the first hint of unrequited love from Mobius occurred during his goodbye scene with Loki in S1E5. Specifically, this look:

I had no expectations for that look to pay off in any way. Season 2 surprised me.

LOKI SEASON 2

S2E1 is amazing episode because, through subtext, it reframes how Mobius's S1 emotions may be interpreted with stronger evidence for romantic motivation. In this episode, there appears to be a subtle, gradual build-up to the moment that Mobius's love for Loki may be viewed as fully romantic. Let's break down the episode and look at the progression:

First, learning that Loki is at the TVA: *sigh* I can't find the "Loki's here?" gif.

Second, and perhaps the most infamous, the reunion and whole-body support Mobius provides Loki in the TVA War Room (physical comfort):

Third, Mobius bringing Loki somewhere safe and quiet, assuring him that "it's okay" (emotional comfort):

Fourth, Mobius insisting that Loki's condition must be fixed, not once but twice, in two different scenes. A third (writer's magic 3s!) instance occurs in the Heart of the TVA, just before the gangway scene (prioritizing the other):

Fifth, Mobius's admission that Loki's timeslipping looks horrible, and he can't look at it anymore. He repeatedly stresses to Loki how serious this is (emotional and physical empathy):

Sixth, Mobius taking Loki to exact right person who can help. This is particularly significant, because Mobius is the only person in MCU canon who has verbally expressed concern for Loki's physical well-being and took immediate action to stop the pain (act of service):

Seventh, the third time Mobius prioritizes Loki's wellbeing. He scolds Loki and reminds him they have only one shot at getting his timeslipping corrected before the temporal radiation becomes too high (prioritizing the other):

Eighth, Mobius interrupting Loki, insisting that he will make it back. The subtext here is that no other outcome is acceptable or thinkable for Mobius (emotional comfort):

Finally, Ninth, the clincher: "He'll make it back." (self-comfort)

This scene is everything to me. Moments 1 through 8 build-up to this singular moment. Let's do a micro-analysis on it.

After Loki timeslips, the camera stays on Mobius. It tracks him as he kneels down to pick-up the time sick, the last thing Loki touched. The camera then pans up as Mobius rises.

@stevenrogered, THANK YOU for this gifset. It's literally the only one I could find that captures the camera tracking Mobius after Loki disappears, and this is my all-time favorite Mobius scene.

Mobius stands for a moment, motionless, and the camera holds on his facial expression. He's staring at where Loki WAS for extended period of time (keep this in mind for later). He's holding his breath. He's worried, scared, and hopeful, not for himself and the danger he faces on the gangway, but for Loki.

Finally, he exhales as he says to himself, "He'll make it back".

This entire sequence--particularly the moment when Mobius picks-up the time stick and holds it in silence--made me feel, "Oh ... Oh ... he loves him."

The camera stays with Mobius, capturing his reaction to this high-stakes situation for a significant amount of time (@loki-us, maybe you can get this timed starting from the moment Loki disappears and Mobius starts to kneel to pick-up the time stick?). Cinematographers don't do this type of hold unless they want to illicit a strong emotion from the audience regarding the character we are focusing on in the moment.

My insides swooped, which rarely ever happens when I view film or television.

And this camera hold, this pregnant pause, is mirrored by Loki's stare in S2E5:

#loki #mobius #lokius #loki series #loki season 2 #loki meta #my meta #loki analysis #my analysis

[altsvu]

Congrats on 200 bunny!!!! You deserve it 🌸

Can I ask for a Hotch request pls? You can literally write anything you want, any prompt, but pls do the classic ‘we’re barely friends and oops there’s only one bed in this hotel room’ bc it’s my fave trope ever!!

“there’s a first for everything”, they say

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!black!fem!reader

prompts used: 40) “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” 58) “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.” 93) “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” from the 100 smut prompts!

summary: hotch invites you and the rest of the BAU on a vacation to the Bahamas, but his demeanor changes when he sees you and interacts with you outside of the professional setting for the first time.

wc: 1855

tw: pining (mentions of it), teasing, dirty talk, oral sex, p in v sex, mentions of sex, smut in general

a/n: i literally could not find a good gif for this so this will do! also this is a combination of another fic idea that i had so i kinda put a bit of a twist on this, i still hope you enjoy marley!! ❤️ @angelhotchner

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

The BAU had finally gotten vacation time, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep for 24 hours. But when Hotch invited you and the rest of the BAU to the Bahamas, it was hard for you to say no.

You wondered how it would go since you never really interacted with Hotch outside of cases, but maybe he might actually talk to you on a different level.

Then again, you were barely friends with him, acquaintance at most.

When the time finally came to pack for the trip, it was much harder than expected. After about 3 hours, you finally had your suitcases and your carry-on packed and ready to go.

Finally, you and the rest of the team were on the plane. To your luck, you and Hotch were sitting next to each other, with you at the window seat.

“Hey.” he smiled after settling down. You turned and smiled back at him and said hey back.

You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. Like really good. His polo was doing him justice showing off his buff arms and chest, and his hair was fluffed to perfection. God, even his hands caught your eyes. His hands were big and veiny and you had recurring thoughts of him putting those hands to work.

On you.

Stop it, you told yourself.

You and Hotch were quiet the beginning of the flight, but you soon engaged in intriguing conversation with him. From expressing feelings about taking a break from all the gore that was part of working at the BAU, to sharing favorite scenes of movies that the both of you watched, that was the first non-work related conversation you’ve had with him.

And it felt amazingly natural, despite the bits of awkwardness in between.

The flight had a 55 minute layover in Miami, which you didn’t know about until you heard on the intercom, which woke you up from your rather comfortable nap.

That was when you noticed you had been napping with your head resting against Hotch’s arm. You quickly sat up and made sure he didn’t notice.

So much for barely friends.

During the layover, you curled up in a chair doing some digital art pieces on your iPad while eating lunch. You made it clear that you didn’t want to be bothered by anyone by putting in your headphones.

Hotch included.

You felt too embarrassed to talk to him after finding out you slept on him.

And didn’t even do anything about it.

He probably felt some type of way.

Or not.

You didn’t even bother figuring out his feelings, instead you spent the rest of the flight making mental notes of what you would do when you finally arrived.

✯✯✯✯

Bikinis were Hotch’s weakness. Well bikinis on you.

How did you know that?

You noticed that he couldn’t help but stare at you from the moment you took off your coverup, and when you walked past him at the beach, when you were resting on your beach chair talking with Penelope and Spencer, or alone reading a book, when you were playing beach volleyball with him, Morgan and JJ, and even when you were sipping on martinis with Rossi and Emily. Other people were checking you out too, but it seemed like Hotch was checking you out the most, admiring how beautiful the baby pink bikini looked against your golden chocolate skin.

So much for barely friends right?

The beach outing with the whole team was fun and you enjoyed your time there but you left the beach earlier than expected, spending some time alone shopping in nearby areas around the hotel. There was no reason in particular, you just liked spending time with yourself any chance you could.

You got back to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch due to availability reasons, and quickly rid yourself of your clothes besides your bra and underwear and prepared to shower.

Until you realized that you forgot to bring your robe. bonnet and shower cap with you in the bathroom.

Hotch just so happened to walk in just as you were looking for it.

“Y/N, are you sleeping in that?”

“Oh shit!” you yelped, scrambling to cover your body. He came over to you after dropping his stuff on the ground. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“Hey.” he whispered. “It’s just me.”

You felt yourself calm down instantly, but it just increased the level of awkwardness between you and him. After your shower, you got dressed for the night, which consisted of an oversized shirt and a pair of boy shorts, and relaxed in bed reading a book.

Hotch laid down next to you about 30 minutes later and you fell asleep moments after.

✯✯✯✯

Waking up in the middle of the night, you felt a warm body lean against you. You turned and gasped in fear until you realized it was Hotch.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Hotch asked, turning around and placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah sorry, I forgot I was sharing a bed with you for a moment." you breathed.

"I'm sorry I scared you out of your sleep."

You shook your head and turned back around. "It's not your fault."

It was silent between the two of you for a bit, and then Hotch reached over to massage your shoulders. It felt nice, you haven't had a massage in a while, if not ever. It was as if Hotch knew what you needed, what you were thinking about. A slight moan escaped your lips from how good it felt.

"Is that turning you on Y/N?" Hotch chuckled.

"No, it just feels really good."

Liar. It’s turning you on.

"I can make you feel good in other places, if you want."

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing now?” you said, turning to face him with a smile on your face.

Hotch didn’t reply, instead he pulled you a bit closer to him and caressed your cheek.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

“I do, but please remind me.”

He went into specifics about how he’d been admiring you from a distance and how he was scared to become close friends with you and screw it up.

“Y/N, you truly faze me.” he said at the end.

You felt your cheeks burning up at Hotch practically confessing his love to you. Without notice, he pressed a kiss on your lips. You went back in for more, and next thing you knew, you were on your back with Hotch’s hand lifting up your shirt. You helped him take it off, and there you were, almost naked again in front of him.

“Suddenly you don’t seem so shy to be naked in front of me.” he smiled.

“That’s because before, I was pretending that I didn’t like you.”

“Oh, so you like me.” Hotch murmured in between kisses to your clavicle.

You wanted to respond, but Hotch’s fingers were inching to your boy shorts and you felt yourself clenching up by his touch, so a smile was the best you could have done in the moment.

And next thing you know, they’re off.

You helped Hotch out of his clothes and the two of you were both naked.

In a hotel bedroom.

In the middle of the night.

You never thought you’d ended up this far with Hotch, let alone just being friends, or almost friends, with him. This was going through your mind as he was on top of you, kissing all over your body.

His hand was slowly trailing up your leg, then to your folds. He reached your clit and rubbed soft circles on it, all while pushing his pointer and middle fingers inside you.

With your past experience being intimate with other men, none of them ever made you feel this good with just their fingers. In fact, it was much different than you’ve ever experienced before.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you,” Hotch whispered, looking up at you.

You shuddered in pleasure when he said that, it felt reassuring.

He continued doing this through your first three orgasms. It got even more intense when he pulled his fingers out, devoured your juices and smashed his tongue on your opening. At this point you wanted to just grab fistfuls of his hair and moan at the top of your lungs.

Hotch being the profiler he is, knew exactly what you were yearning for.

“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” he said, looking up at you again with a quirky grin on his face.

Your hands were now full of his soft black hair, reaching the climax of your fourth orgasm.

Before you could reach another one, Hotch stopped what he was doing, laid down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“I want to feel you,” he whispered. “Can I do that?”

“Yes, please.” you pleaded.

He adjusted himself to your opening, and to say you were in shock would be an understatement. The initial thrust almost had you crying out for mercy the way it felt so good. A throaty groan escaped Hotch’s lips.

“You must be enjoying this,” you said.

“I am. You’re so good to me.”

That made you blush as you loved words of affirmation.

It was like Hotch knew everything about you. He knew all the right things to say, and all the right places to touch you. In a way, his job as a profiler never ended.

He switched positions so that he was on top of you, passionately looking into your eyes while doing so. He was the one with the mastery in eye contact.

At this point, you already knew the bonnet was off and the knotless braids you had in would get a bit frizzy at the top. But you didn’t care. Hotch was making you feel better than ever, filling that certain void in your life.

He had your legs up and thrusted into you with everything in him, and it made you moan in a way you never imagined you could do.

Another climax was approaching and you could feel it. You came faster than expected with Hotch in your ear whispering for you to do it for him. Short moments later, he was right there with you with his high.

“So much for not even being friends.” You laughed softly.

Hotch pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “So much, huh?”

“What do you think the others are gonna say when they find out? I know one of them heard us.”

“I’m glad they heard. Maybe they’ll talk about how loud you got for me.”

That made you giggle.

“Anyways, my special agent, we have to sleep soon. Or there might be more rounds.”

And surely enough, the two of you slept in each other’s arms after cleaning up, and you slept way better than you did before being woken up.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @mstrinnyb @will-on-the-internet @mrshadeelharingtonmadden

#criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron #cutie aaron #aaron hotchner #altsvu #hotch #gaga hits 200! #altsvu oneshots #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotcher #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds

[awogga]

i wanna say something about crowley’s monologue in this scene (condensed into gifs, thank you @michaelsheens) right before the kiss because god. GOD.

first of all bravo to david tennant for one of the most convincing line deliveries i’ve ever seen, second of all there’s something here. i couldn’t really put my finger on it before but i was thinking about the choices in dialogue and i almost feel like crowley is trying to defend himself even as early on in the conversation as this. he’s about to tell aziraphale (read: try to tell aziraphale) that he’s been hopelessly in love with him for several millennia, and he’s already steeling himself for rejection and explaining why he’s in love with him. so that if and when that rejection comes, hey, at least he demonstrated rationality. he’s not weak and he’s not dependent and he’s not any of the things that he’s so deeply afraid of being. he fell in love with aziraphale because how could he not? it was natural. here’s the timeline. here are his reasons. and it’s so heartbreaking that he feels like he has to do that, and i’m fully convinced that had aziraphale not dropped the news about the metatron moments before, crowley’s approach to the situation would have been wildly different. he would’ve been more self-assured for one thing, but his confession would’ve also come from a more optimistic place. this crowley is scared. this crowley can’t find his words. this crowley knows that everything is coming down around him and he’s desperate not to be alone. he’s trying to reason with aziraphale through the confession, and that’s why it comes out sounding so stilted, because it’s more an expression of fear than love. this isn’t how crowley wanted it to happen but he’s already gotten this far, he can’t back down now. he just needs to convince him that what they have is worth saving—or better yet, embracing and cultivating. he’s trying to be fully transparent, but in his transparency is all of his crushing uncertainty and the confidence of a cornered animal

#i’m going insane #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen

[halsteadlover]

Night Struggles

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your daughter has to sleep in her bassinet but Jay isn’t on the same page.

• Warnings: none.

• Word count: 785.

• A/N: so I had this in the draft for a while and decided to post it since I was craving some dad!Jay. I got this idea from a tiktok so here it is lol. I hope you’ll like it, let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog if you want ❤️ Thank you so much for your constant support, love you all xx

“Babe! Where's Isabel?”.

You walked into your bedroom while your husband was lying in bed, pretending to be focused on his cell phone and not hearing you.

You stood in front of him, hands on hips and eyebrow raised as you waited for him to look at you.

“Huh? What did you say darling?” he asked dumbly, finally looking at you and flashing you one of the most charmed smiles he was capable of.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You heard me, don't play dumb Halstead.”

“I don't know what you're talking about babe, Isabel should be in her bassinet,” he feigned a hint of concern. You pulled back the blanket that was partially covering his chest, revealing your little girl in his arms who wouldn't stop waving her little arms and giggling as soon as she saw you.

“Jay! She should sleep in her crib!” you scolded him and pointing your finger at him as you tried to hold back a smile at the sight of that wonderful scene. She was lying on his bare chest, her little head resting on his shoulder as he stroked her back.

“No she doesn’t!” he exclaimed with an almost offended expression as his arms spontaneously squeezed his baby, as if he was afraid you might take her away from him. “She wants to sleep here with her dada, don't you princess?” he asked her, however aware she wouldn’t be able to answer him. He lifted her into the air as she kept waving her arms and legs, giggling and screaming as she watched her father. “Oh yes she does. You always want to be with your dad, right? You're still too little to be alone. You’ll sleep with mama and dada.”

You chuckled as you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing he'd never give in. “But she has to start sleeping in her bassinet baby, or she’ll get too used being with us.”

“She has to sleep with us, she told me that and I can’t say no to this little pretty face. No, I can’t,” he replied using his baby voice, but always keeping his eyes on his daughter who was drooling as she had his little fingers in her mouth and babbled with her little voice. He pulled her closer to her and left kisses on her cheeks. “She won't go anywhere without me and she’ll sleep here tonight, from tomorrow she’ll stay in her bassinet I promise.”

You knew this would never happen but you didn't respond, instead sitting on the edge of the bed as you continued to watch Jay's love for his little girl with a huge smile on your face.

There was no doubt he was madly in love with her, from the moment she let out her first breath as a newborn. You had never seen him like that, so happy. Of course, he had always been sweet with you, so thoughtful, attentive in everything he did and everything that concerned you, but the way he looked at Isabel, God, that little girl had him wrapped around her little finger.

Jay would’ve never believed how such a tiny creature could turn his world upside down like that and yet there he was, his heart bursting with joy as he hugged his little girl.

“Come on baby, how can you say no to this face?” he asked, placing his face next to Isabel's and turning to you. You alternated your gaze between one and the other and still almost couldn't believe how much they looked alike. There would’ve been no need for a paternity test, you had birthed Jay's twin.

You sighed, unable to pretending being mad any longer. It really was impossible, not when the loves of your life looked at you like this. “I hate you Halstead,” you muttered.

He laughed and opened his free arm, as an invitation to join them. “Come here my love.”

You didn't make him repeat it twice and you lay down next to him, leaving a kiss on his lips and on Isabel's forehead who extended her little arms towards you, eager to be held by her mother.

“I love you two so damn much baby,” he whispered in your ear as he kissed your cheek, his hand caressing Isabel’s little head.

This was all you wanted, all you wished for. Your beautiful little family and, God, you couldn't be happier. You had a wonderful husband who loved you and his little girl with all his being, and a wonderful daughter, full of joy and life, and even though it was difficult sometimes and there were moments where you thought you couldn't do it, you wouldn't have it any another way.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs

Jay Halstead tag list: @burgstead, @bebataylor84, @ares-kelani-wayne, @ixna-mikaelsn, @sande5098, @smoothdogsgirl, @withakindheartx, @jess2013, @maddu-oliveira, @lovemesomepietro, @onechicagodrawings, @jinxfan18, @ready-hit-it, @rainroo2, @tinfoilhat2719, @upsteadlovingheart, @secondaryjob, @nevaehstreater18, @sophiatellerrhodes, @dedlund82, @kellykidd, @rippi3s, @stephanie708, @annahargrove, @smutlOver, @kuroe-san, @caroldanverwife, @baby, @nosy09, @luvreading67, @danielmarie, @saiyuo12, @nachodaze, @waywardhunter95, @fighterkimburgess, @ephemeral314, @mads-weasley, @itskellysev, @lovemedlife, @atarmychick007, @amazedbyitall, @glodessa, @xeleni-dutchnurse, @ossypooh, @itriedtoexplain, @randomwriter1021, @averyhotchner, @ellavanderberg, @mrshalsteadxx, @junevoidzombie, @nocturnalherb16, @croissantthief, @jayhalsteadsbadge, @youngblood199456, @dreamss-wavess, @halsteadloversworld, @laaaauuraaaaa, @firerusher, @itserickalove, @23victoria, @slytherlight, @goingwiththewind, @notanordinaryprincess95, @mel0809, @cadyfanninger, @acewritesfics, @iloveest, @instantpizzacat, @wickedlovely121, @hart-kinsella

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Main Masterlist

Jay Halstead Masterlist

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[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Avarice and Arrogance (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Aemond Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist 

Synopsis: Aemond was always confident that he could protect you and his family from any threat, but the Gods had to dole out a lesson for his impunity, and a particularly cruel one at that. 

Warnings: TW! Character death, violence, torture, angst, Aemond being somewhat toxic?? 

Word Count: 2.6K words 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for the reader. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: You guys asked for angst, I delivered an overdose. I hope you enjoy, although I’m not very proud of this one shot. Inspired after overplaying the epic version of Aegon’s Coronation theme. Ramin Djawadi is my true King of the Seven Kingdoms 

wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics

“He whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him!” 

To anyone, Prince Aemond seemed the portrait of composure: his arms clasped behind his back, his expression cool and disinterested. Yet if one looked closely enough, they would see the tension in his jaw, his teeth gritted, his posture bordering more on stiff than of calmness. His lone violet eye glittered as he observed Aegon walking under the raised swords of the knights, looking as recalcitrant as always. 

‘Had that been me…’ he thought bitterly, ‘I would’ve carried myself with pride. The smallfolk would’ve took one look at me and trusted that I had the greatness, the capability, to lead House Targaryen into the apex of our power.’ 

‘And yet,’ Aemond mused to himself as his mother kissed Aegon on the forehead, ‘reality is often disappointing.’

His fists clenched at his sides. It was unfair, his brother was naught but a wastrel, a fool constantly drunk in his cups and oft found buried in the tits of some common whore. What right had he to rule, save for being the firstborn son? How could someone as useless as him be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Even with their grandsire by his side giving him counsel, when his half sister received word of the coronation, and of their father’s death…Aemond dreaded to think what would happen. Would Aegon be able to rise up to the defence of their family?

Aemond took a deep breath to steady himself, when suddenly, he felt a warm hand grasping his, gently unclenching his fingers from his tightly formed fist. Surprised, he looked over to the unexpected source of comfort. His lady wife stood next to him, an indifferent expression on her lovely face as she kept her eyes fixed on the smallfolk. He noticed that she was holding his sweet sister, Helaena’s hand in her other hand, and his mind halted in its baleful, raging course to settle on her instead, admiring her. 

My beautiful, brilliant lady wife. 

She would’ve been the most wonderful queen, he thought, and the wave of resentment began its course once more. As if sensing the switch in Aemond’s thoughts, she squeezed his hand lightly in hers. Aemond marvelled at his wife, amazed at how she always could sense the slightest shifts in his moods, even when her eyes were not on him. And just like that, the worry and the resentment fell away, and his envy for his brother became a little easier to bear, even just for that moment. 

But…he felt a sense of strangeness creep over him as he took in his wife’s features. Her face was impassive, but it was hard and cold, as if she did not approve of this very scene. As Aegon raised Blackfyre and rallied the crowd, and his wife squeezed Helaena’s hand tighter, Aemond realised that mayhaps her gesture was not done solely out of comfort, but for anxiety.

For fear. 

You were chewing on your bottom lip, Helaena’s hand still in yours as you both stewed in contemplative silence, each engulfed with thoughts and worries of your own. Aemond frowned as he watched his sister and his beloved. Aegon had ridden in a separate wheelhouse with their mother and grandsire, and mayhaps it was for the better, given the gloomy atmosphere. 

When they were back in the safety of their apartments, Aemond followed his wife’s every movement in rapt attention. You began unravelling the tight updo that your hair was in, running your hands through your long locks pensively. It was done now…you were true traitors to the Crown. You sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that this was nothing but an unpleasant dream. 

Suddenly, you felt warm arms engulfing you from behind. Aemond dropped his chin onto his beloved’s shoulder as he embraced her, breathing in her scent. “Tell me what troubles you, my love,” his voice husky. 

You shook your head slightly, trying to mask your thoughts. “Tis nothing, my love. I swear it.” 

Aemond chuckled, a dark and soft sound. “Liar.” 

He spun his beloved round to face him, taking note of her expression. “I know you are worried,” his voice was soft, “We are husband and wife, my love. Whatever troubles you hold, I want to know all of it. We swore before the Gods, did we not? To share each other’s burdens? We will honour our vows, do we not?” 

Your lips twisted slightly, trying not to grimace. “If vows were of any matter to us, then we would not have committed such a grave sin.” Aemond frowned, the reasons for his wife’s anxiety suddenly becoming apparent to him. “Aegon is the King now,” he reminded her, “My father named him so.” 

You let out a humourless snort. “He was an old man, half senile and drunk on the Milk of Poppy.” Aemond opened his mouth as if to protest, but you continued before he could. “The late king had named Rhaenyra as his heir. Even when the Stranger drew close, he had forsaken his health and braved through his pain to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim during Vaemond’s speech. Does the Hand expect all of Westeros to believe the King changed his mind all of a sudden on his deathbed? It is insanity, and even a deaf fool would know better.” 

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice was low, tinged with warning. “You will not insult my grandsire like this. It is done now, and that is the truth.” You persisted, however. “Putting that aside, Rhaenyra will seek to have all our heads when the news breaks. How can your grandsire be as foolish as to put all of us in danger like this?” 

Aemond arched a brow, “Is that what you’re worried about?” “Are you not worried about that?” Aemond laughed, “We have dragons, my love. I should think Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are enough to defend us. That whore on Dragonstone will soon realise that she can get angry, and she can spit and curse all she wants, but she cannot match against our might.” 

You looked unconvinced, which irked Aemond a little. Why was she so worried? “Do not tell me,” his voice was low with menace, “That you are loyal to Rhaenyra. That you are sympathetic to that whore’s cause.” You kept mum, but your eyes told Aemond everything he needed to know. He snarled, moving to pin you against the wall. 

Your eyes widened with panic, your hands moving to push Aemond away, but he held your wrists in a vice grip. You had never seen him so angry with you before. “You are my wife,” he hissed angrily, “Your priorities should lie with me, with my family. Our family. In keeping us safe from that accursed whore and my uncle.” “And making Aegon king, usurping the rightful queen, is supposed to keep us safe?” You argued, unintimidated. “Have you lost all your senses, Aemond? We are traitors! Usurpers! You claim protecting your family is your priority, but yet you allow your grandsire to risk our lives for his mad grab for power!” Aemond’s grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince and fall silent. Aemond took notice of that, but he couldn’t let you go. Not just yet. He needed to make his point. 

“I said, do not speak of my grandsire in that manner,” he seethed. “He is my family, and I will not tolerate you insulting him.” He took a deep breath, letting go of his wife’s wrists, and she took the chance to push him away before fleeing to their bed. He sighed and sat down next to her, but she only moved away and folded her arms, turning her back on him. He heard a soft sniffle, and he realised with horror that she was crying. He had made her cry. 

A pang of guilt shot through Aemond’s heart, and he tentatively reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, dismayed when she flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, my love,” he said quietly, “I got carried away, and I hurt you. I apologise for that.” He saw her shoulders lose some of their tension at his apology, and a glimmer of hope shone in his violet eye. Mayhaps he could make her see his viewpoint after all. He knew of her house’s loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim, and how she might be swayed to support Rhaenyra’s claim, but she had to see. That this was the best for their family. 

“My love…” he bit his lip, “I know my words were harsh, but it is true. What is done is done. Even if I dislike Aegon being on the throne, he is my brother. If Rhaenyra had taken the throne, she would’ve had us executed. She would not suffer any presence that could be a threat to her claim to the throne. Even if she did not, there is no doubt Daemon would.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Rhaenyra is impulsive, violent and reckless. You saw how she took off Vaemond’s head when his only crime was speaking the truth. Her son blinded me when we were naught but boys,” Aemond’s voice became hard. “If we allow her to ascend the throne, that means that the Strong bastard, Jace, would ascend the throne after her. Do you really think the realm would really bow before him?” 

Your hard gaze softened a little, and Aemond saw a window of opportunity. “Think rationally, my love,” Aemond pleaded softly, “My father may have named Rhaenyra the heir, but it is an irreplaceable fact that the lords of Westeros would never bow before her. The Seven Kingdoms would plunge into chaos, do you really want that?” Aemond raised her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “I know you’re afraid of Rhaenyra’s wrath, but I ask of you to trust me. Trust that I will keep us safe, no matter what.” 

“...I’m not sure if you can, Aemond.” Aemond’s heart dropped, “Whatever do you mean?” You finally turned to face him, and he was alarmed when he took note of the tears glistening at the corner of your eyes. “Aemond…I’m with child. For nearly three moons now.” 

Aemond swore his heart stopped at that very moment. But his shock only lasted briefly before he pulled you into his arms, voice filled with excitement and wonder, “You’re with child? Our child?” When he broke the embrace, you were surprised to see the corner of his violet eye wet. Aemond dropped to his knees in front of you, stroking his hand over your stomach reverently, in disbelief almost. “We’re going to be parents…” he murmured, “I’m going to be a father.” 

But even in Aemond’s joy, you could not find it in yourself to smile. Not with the threat of the impending succession war. Aemond noticed your discomfort, but nothing could take away the happiness he felt at the moment. “My love, you don’t have to be afraid,” his voice was reassuring, “I swear on my honour, on the Old Gods and the New, on the Seven and all my ancestors, that I would burn the world to ashes on Vhagar before I let anyone lay a finger on you or our child.” He took your hand, cradling it in his, tilting his head upwards, a pleading look in his eye, for you to believe in him, to trust him to keep you safe. 

“But even all the dragons in this world will not keep us from reaping the fate we sowed,” you said quietly, eyes never leaving Aemond’s. “The gods will strike us down for our treason.” 

Aemond rolled his eye, exasperated that his wife just didn’t seem to grasp the true extent of their power. “We are Targaryens, my love,” Aemond said self-assuredly. “We possess dragons, the largest, most dangerous and powerful creatures in the world. The gods may try as they might, but they can never strike us down. Seven hells, I would dare say we are the gods, my love,” Aemond chuckled at how your eyes widened at his brazen words. “For what other than a god can mount a dragon, and command it?” “Don’t say things like that, Aemond,” you were aghast, “The Seven will-” 

“Fuck the Seven,” Aemond said bluntly. “When men pray, the Gods never answer. Why should we fear the consequences inflicted upon us by some unknown higher power?” He resumed his seat on their bed, pulling you back into his embrace and gently stroking your hair. “We need not fear the Gods, my love,” he murmured softly. “You will see soon enough, when war comes, and the Gods do nothing to interfere, then you will come to revere them less. In the meantime, you will come to see who the true gods are, when our dragons raze the earth and win this godforsaken war.” 

It was known to all that the gods despise hubris, and perhaps they were watching that evening, when you laid your head on Aemond’s chest with a sigh and allowed him to soothe and comfort you, making promises that he would keep you safe no matter what. 

Aemond had been so sure in his words, so confident in his beliefs and in his abilities, and blinded by his ego. Mayhaps this was what drove him when he bade Vhagar prowl around Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax in the stormy skies of Storms’ End, shouting for the Strong bastard to repay the debt he owed. 

Mayhaps his pride was what had blinded him to the possibility that he could never keep his family safe after his act of kinslaying. 

But he knew for sure that he had regretted making an enemy of the gods when he saw you, eyes wide with fear, a sharp dragonglass blade to your throat as you were held hostage by some cutpurse. An eye for an eye, a son for a son, the cutpurse had grinned, before slitting your throat and lodging the dagger into your stomach. 

It mattered not how much Aemond had howled with grief as he held your lifeless frame in his arms, begging for you to wake up. It mattered not when Aemond personally tortured your assassin with the most vicious methods he could devise, flaying every inch of skin from his body until he had expired. Even in death, he was not spared of Aemond’s wrath. His body was marked with incisions when it was finally fed to Vhagar, courtesy of Aemond cutting out his heart and crushing it with his bare hands. It mattered not when Aemond had sworn to avenge you no matter the cost, to cut down Daemon Targaryen and give him the same treatment he had for the cutpurse. It took the combined efforts of the Queen Dowager, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the Hand, and many other lords and knights of the Kingsguard to prevent him from mounting Vhagar upon the cutpurse’s death to fly to Dragonstone. A fool’s folly, they called it, but Aemond had drawn his sword and snarled at them to get out of his way, lest they wish to be the recipient of Vhagar’s flames. It was only when Alicent motioned for Ser Criston to deliver a blow that rendered Aemond unconscious that they could restrain him at all. 

A part of Aemond had died that day, and he rained curses upon the Seven, on his uncle, on his wretched half-sister as he took his seat in the Small Council, being the advocate for absolute and brutal violence against the Blacks. And yet he did not repent for looking down upon the gods, not even till the day when he faced his uncle Daemon in battle and died in the cursed halls of Harrenhal. Another casualty of the Dance of the Dragons. 

After all, even the Valyrian dragonlords of old had not been able to escape the Stranger’s clutches when death came for them. And Aemond Targaryen was no different. 

...i’m very sorry :( but I swear, happier Aemond one shots are coming 😭

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy​ 

Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) thank you for reading! 💗

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[suggs444]

Bad For Buisness, Part 2: William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader.

Synopsis: Bad for buisness part two. You get bored of William’s lack of appreciation and attention toward you. You get reckless. William doesn’t like that.

TW: swearing, sexual tension, f1ngering, degrading.

authors note: loved writing this! some of william’s dialogue is from a Tarantino movie. it fitted the scene and i think it fits his character too. <33 anyways pls enjoy, i’m open for any feedback & requests !

Gif by brotherdusk

…

Being William’s coworker had it’s perks when it mattered. The secret of your sexual benefits between one another only made the job bearable. More exciting. Needless to say it was becoming more than just the intimacy, for you anyway. You thought about him more than you should. You wonder if he felt the same.

He’s a closed man. Sharp and abrupt. A man who is straight to the point and knows what he wants. Takes what he wants. Nothing goes by in the office without William’s say so. You liked that. You weren’t just fucking some guy. You were fucking the boss. Your boss. You had wondered whether he was just using you for his benefit but you quickly realised that you didn’t care. Anything from William is everything. You learnt to enjoy the scraps of attention. But god, you wanted more.

..

Your head was buried in your desk. Papers and folders relentlessly invading your space. A mess. You huff.

A tsk draws your attention upward.

It’s William. Standing over you on the other side of your desk. He’s holding a steamy mug of coffee. Probably black, no sugars. Just how he liked it.

“You know, they say the tidiness of your work space reflects your mental state.” He drawls, his tone more nasal than ever. Cockier than usual too. He always enjoys demeaning people, even you. And frankly? You like it.

But today?

You’re not in the mood.

You glare at him. This is the first time he’s spoken to you properly in days. And that is what he has to say? A prod. A tease. Such pointless information. You grind your teeth to bite back anything harsh.

Any ounce of humor slips from William’s expression as he sees you’re not reciprocating the same energy he is. You weren’t responding. Only glaring.

“Thank you for that, sir. I feel so enlightened, sir.” You bite, your tone sharp and stern. Almost as if you spoke the words through bared teeth. Irritation always gets the better of you. This felt like injustice. You’re always so good for him. Making him coffee, tending to his needs - keeping his secrets. And this is what you get?

“Though if that’s true then it’s a fucking miracle how your desk stays so tidy,” You spit, and then pause to take a breath.

“-sir.” You finish, offering a false smile.

William, shocked, stares.

His silence slowly worry’s you. You can almost feel yourself sinking from the instant guilt. He sees it plastered all over your expression. He only locks his jaw, peering sternly as he leans over your desk to you.

Dread consumes you. Regret. You gulp.

He leans right over your desk. His face inches from your own.

“My office.” Is all he says.

“Now.”

Shit.

..

You lead the way, entering his office first. He closes the door behind you as he steps in.

“Sir, I-”

“Plant yourself on that desk.” He interrupts, pointing at his desk. His expression is cold. His tone isn’t any better.

You look behind you at his desk. It was tidy. You look back at him just as fast in protest,

“Mister Afton-”

“I said plant yourself. Plants don’t talk.”

You pull a face of regret as you back up, not wanting to make him ask again. Wearily hoisting yourself up to sit on the desk. You press your legs together, tight.

He stands there for a moment. A hand on his hip and the other bringing his cup to his lips to take a gulp of hot coffee. The drink steams up his glasses for a second. You bite down hard on your lip to prevent a smile.

He notices and sighs, putting his mug down and taking off his glasses.

“Tell me, y/n,” He begins, pausing for a second as he takes his purple tie, using it to wipe the steam from his glasses.

“-why you think it’s appropriate to talk to your superior like that?”

He puts his glasses back on, scrunching his nose to push them up properly.

You gaze at him.

He cocks his head to the side, impatient and expecting. You don’t reply soon enough.

He walks up to you. His large hands falling onto your knees as he pries them apart. He settles between your legs, palms gliding up to rest on your thighs.

“Answer me when I talk to you.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“What’re you sorry for?”

“Not answering-”

“Wrong.” He cuts in.

“I’ll ask again. What’re you sorry for?”

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. The anticipation is killing you. Your core throbbing. You try to close your legs. He tightens his grip on your thighs in response. One of his hands gliding further up your thigh. You tremble.

“I’m sorry for speaking to you the way i did.” You manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

He hums pitifully, “I can’t hear you, y/n. Speak the fuck up.” His palm abruptly occupies the warmth between your legs. You jolt. He sneers.

You grind into his palm, “I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did!” You say again, louder this time.

His fingers press against your clothed folds, collecting the wetness that seeped there. You mewl, he grins.

“Yeah,” He mutters, “Is that what this is? Huh? You’re just needy?”

Your head falls slack, dazed from the overwhelming lust. You press your forehead against his shoulder. His lips ghost your ear.

You feel his stubble scratch and prick your skin. You shiver, wincing but leaning into him. Intoxicated. His fingers push aside your panties, delving into your wet folds. A squelch noise welcomes him. He groans.

“What a fucking mess.” He grits, using his spare hand to twist into your hair and yank your head back. He wants to see that pretty face.

He pushes a finger into your seeping hole. Then another, twisting them in unison as they sink into you, curling and pumping.

“There. How’s that feel, huh? Was it worth it?”

You’re in heaven. Moaning so blissfully. The pleasure so intense that you can barely compose yourself. He grimaces and pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty. The lack of makes you whine, clutching him. He brings his fingers to your mouth, pressing their way in.

“Clean them.”

You oblige, eager. Sucking them so hard as you taste yourself. He’s glaring at you, his teeth slightly bared.

“You’re gonna earn my attention, y/n. Got it?”

He tightens the grip in your hair and he moves your head up and down so it looks like you’re nodding yes. You’re mouth to busy accommodating his fingers to reply. You hum instead.

“First step,” He says, pulling his fingers from your mouth and hoisting you off his desk and onto your feet.

You look up at him.

“Clean your fucking desk:”

..

#william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf movie #fnaf #steve raglan #matthew lillard #five nights at freddy's

[societeysmenace]

I really love, ADORE how Angel Crowley's feathers get legit ruffled when he gets the news of the universe, the nebulas and stars getting destroyed in 6000. Like, I can't bloody frickin' find a gift of it, but his wings along the edged puff up as he's telling Aziraphale that "They're not there just to twinkle!" Like, holy shit, Crowley just LOVES his work and stars and he gets so MAD ABOUT IT.

Pls give me more of him being annoyed, I love the way they animated his wings, they puff up and I love that.

If this has been addressed/pointed out, pls LET ME KNOW I WANNA AKSBWJAJWIIAJS ABOUT IT ALL GOD HES SO PRECIOUS

I FOUND FUCKIN GIFS OF HIM BEING POOFY

I can't FRICKIN ZOOM IN but LOOK AT HIS WINGS!! HES ANGY LET HIM HAVE HIS STARS DAMN IT. I feel like his lil wings aren't talked about enough and I'm still here, just watching how expressive his wings are, and I just. I could watch them and the first scene of s2 ALL DAY. UGH.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #antony j crowley #crowley #angel crowley #holy shit he hates ppl using stars as wallpapers #his feathers actually PUFF UP #id commit warcrimes for him

[itsthestutterforme]

Who Loves a Party? 2/2 (Soft!Dark!Rafe Cameron x Pogue!reader)

Summary: When you finally get home after spending the day with Rafe, you come home to a bloody scene.

Warnings/Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Heyward!reader, violent themes (assault, throat punching, threatening with a knife and a gun), dark!reader, dark!Rafe

Prompt credit @writing-with-emy : “Why are you staring at me like that?” “I think I just finally understood you.”

And just like that, everything went to shit. That day you fell back asleep with Rafe, you returned home at sundown. You were met with judgmental stares from Pope and JJ.

They must have spent all this time waiting for you. “Were you really with Rafe all this time?” Pope questioned.

“That’s not any of your business, Pope.” “I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Why was your phone off, huh? We needed you.” JJ scolds. “I must have put Do Not Disturb on- wait, what do you mean you needed me?”

“Look in the kitchen,”

You rolled your eyes at your their childish antics when you saw your father in the kitchen with a bag of ice pressed to his forehead and dried blood on his face.

“Oh my God. What the hell happened?” You rushed into the kitchen and gingerly took the ice away so you could get a better look at his face.

“Everything’s okay, sweetie.” He reassured with a pained groan.

“No, you’re not okay.” He had a busted lip, and some bruising on his left cheek and the corner of his forehead, which indicates he was struck with something. Mostly likely metal.

Judging by the dried blood, he has been like this for at least two hours. He must have fell unconscious from the injuries.

“He was like this when he got home last night,” Pope says, walking into the kitchen from the living room.

“Then why haven’t you taken him to the hospital yet?” You scold.

“I tried to convince him but he refused. We would have had better luck if you were here instead of-“ “Now is not the time, Pope.” You warn, sending him a serious look.

“You could have at least clean him up, dude.” “He woke up just now. He’s been sleeping most of the day and he’s barely been talking to anyone.” He explains and you held onto your Dad’s shoulders to steady him while you continued to ask him questions.

“Who did this to you, papa?” You asked, taking note of his eyes moving in circles like he was dizzy.

“Papa?” You repeat. “I’m okay, honey. Did you have fun at the party, sweetheart?”

You furrowed your eyebrows when he stumbled over his words. He groans and covered his ears with a pained expression.

With your mom attending a business summit and your father in this state, it was your responsibility to take care of things now.

“I think he has a concussion. We need to get him to the urgent care.” You deduce, slinging one of his arms around your shoulders.

You looked to Pope and he does the same with the other arm.

“Wait but what if they call the police and want him to file a report?” JJ questions, following you and Pope down the hallway.

You opened the door before cautiously walking down the stairs and towards his truck. “Then we’ll file a report, JJ. This is my dad we’re talking about.”

You instructed your dad to climb into the car and he follows what you said. “Pope, I need you to grab a paper bag from inside the house.” You commanded.

“Why?” “Because if it is a concussion, he’s going to puke any minute.” You round the truck to the drivers side but JJ stops you.

“I know he’s your dad, okay? I get it. I just.. what if the guy who did this finds out and comes back?” He justifies.

“Then I’ll be waiting for him with my daddy’s shot gun.” You pushed past him and hopped into the drivers seat, honking the horn for Pope to hurry up.

**

You were fuming.

Your father was driven from the urgent care to the hospital so they could keep them for observation.

One day turned into three days. The first day was exhausting between the paperwork, the MRIs, CTs and Deputy Shoupe coming by to collect your statement, you barely had any time to think.

But it was your job to hold down the fort when your parents weren’t there. So that’s exactly what you were doing to do.

You spent the night in the hospital with him for the first night and the nurse didn’t allow you to for a second time.

She reassured you and you would be her first call when he wakes. And although a part of you felt bad about it, you were waiting for the nurse to step in so you can start your search.

It wasn’t until the fourth day that he was up and talking. You sent Pope to the hospital to keep an eye on him while you did some research for your own.

You logged into the security camera your dad installed a few months ago and scrubbed the video until you came across a rugged looking man with blonde hair and a beard.

From the looks of it, he was 5’10 and had a stocky build. And he looked oddly similar to the man you saw Rafe talking to in the Square when you were on your usual morning run.

Rafe had something to do with this. He was the one you needed to talk to. And it was going to be nothing like the last time you hung out.

“Rafe!” You knocked on the door harshly.

You wondered why he was so far away from Figure Eight at a of the house a few minutes away from the Cut.

“Rafe, opened the door.” “Who the hell is that, man?” Barry asks Rafe. He thought it sounded like you but there was no way it was you.

How would you know where he was? Rafe asked himself.

Barry grabbed his gun from his bedroom and rushed to open the door with the gun outstretched.

“What the fuck is that?” You asked with a gasp, pointing somewhere in the house.

When he looked over his shoulder, you grip the barrel of the gun and pulled back to extract the bullet from the chamber.

You punch Barry’s throat and he drops to his knees. He cradles his neck and gasped for air when you took the gun from his shaky hands.

Rafe was standing by the couch when you entered the house, removing the magazine the gun and tossing it out the window.

He was stuck on his quickly you disarmed Barry. Where did you learn to fight like that?

“Y/N? How did you know I was here?” He asks, taking a step towards you.

“I found that little app you downloaded on my phone to track me. Then I reverse engineered it to track you instead.”

“Shit,” he bows his head in disappointment.

“Yeah. You forget that I’m a Heyward too.” You set the empty gun on the table and brought out your switch blade.

“Whoa, whoa. Come on, Y/N. Talk to me.” Rafe raises his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Did you know what your buddy was going to do? Is that why you brought me back to your place? To distract me?”

Rafe’s confused expression started to made you think that maybe you didn’t recognize the guy on the CCTV.

Or maybe that’s exactly what Rafe wanted you to think.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“When I spent the day with you after the party, my father was attacked by the man I saw you talking with in the Square, Rafe. The fucker put my dad in the hospital.”

“Oh my God- wait, you think I had something to do with this?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. Sit down.” He complies and crosses his arms as he stares at you pacing back and forth.

“Did you know?” You asked slowly, desperate for answers. “Of course not. I.. I would never do that to you. You know how I feel about you.”

“No, I don’t actually. For all I know, you could be saying that to every girl from here to Figure Eight.”

He nods at your words, tongue in cheek and leans his back into the couch. “What do you want to know?”

“Who is he?” “He’s Carla Limbrey’s half brother. A veteran. He’s been doing Carla’s dirty work since he got here.” He explains.

“Where does he live?” You asked, smoothing your thumb over the flat part of the blade.

“No, Y/N.” “Answer the question, Rafe.” “I said no. He’s unhinged and he’s dangerous.” “

“My dad has a concussion Rafe. He been asleep for two days. Someone needs to pay for that in blood and it has to be him.”

“It’s more than just him, okay? He’s brought in buddies he was in the service with. And while I’m sure you’re capable of taking down one guy, you can’t take down four of them.” He stands up from couch, not paying the knife in your hand any mind.

“Whatever fantasy you’ve made up about me isn’t real, Rafe. I am a Pogue. I’ve done some Pogue shit to survive and I’m about to do some Pogue shit to him. It’s in your best interest if you just get out of my way.”

“Look, I respect your father. I respect you. You think I would find out what his plans were and not tell you? You really don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” you take a few steps toward him.

“I would never hurt you, okay? Just put the knife down.” He raises his hand and slowly took the blade from your hand.

You watch him click the knife closed and set it down next to the empty gun.

He stares at you with soft eyes and you shake your head at him.

“If you won’t tell me where he is, I’ll find out myself.” You rushed out of the house, knowing that Rafe will try to stop you.

Barry is sitting down, leaning his back against the wall in the hallway still regulating his breathing.

But you didn’t have to heart to hurt Rafe. Your threats were empty and you both knew it.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he repeats, running after you and wrapping his arms around you before you could reach for the car door.

He holds you flush into his chest, resting his head on nape of your neck.

“I’m sorry about your Dad. He didn’t deserve that. He’s a good man.” He consoles and you released a shaky breath.

He rubs the sides of your arms, you could feel the tears threatening to brim in your eyes. Your hands loosely wrap around his forearm but you didn’t pry him away from you.

“What’s this really about, Y/N?” He pulls away when you turn around to face him.

“It’s the only thing I have control over.” You said in defeat.

“My dad’s in the hospital and even though he’s awake and talking, they’re still keeping him for observation in case things get worse. My mom is barely home so I’m the one who has to take care of the house and the business and the boys. I have to act like I have everything together so Pope doesn’t panic but I’m just barely holding on. And I don’t know how much of this I can take, so taking this son of a bitch down is the only thing I can control right now.” You rant, your shoulders visibly relaxing the more you spoke.

You finished your rant to find Rafe staring at you intensely as if he was trying to read your mind.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You asked slowly, a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I think I just finally understood you.” He said after a long pause.

You find yourself resting the side of your face against his chest letting out a satisfied sigh when he cups the back of your head.

“Let me take care of you. And let me handle him.”

“How will you take care of it?”

He contemplated his response for a few seconds.

“Do you want me to kill him?” He asked nonchalantly, silently hoping that he hasn’t scared you off.

“You would do that?”

“Of course,”

A tired expression took over your face and you nodded, smiling when he kissed the tip of your nose.

“Thank you,”

#black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader

[ingravinoveritas]

I saw someone mention this on Twitter and absolutely felt the need to write a post about it, because...dear god.

This moment is from episode 3 of GO season 2, where Crowley is demonically fibbing to Muriel about humans and how best to ascertain whether they have fallen in love. In this gif, David as Crowley is saying "Don't hesitate to ask me if you have any other questions about love, Inspector Constable" and Michael as Aziraphale is...doing that.

The that in question isn't just shamelessly looking David up and down, or the breathy exhale that follows--both of which would be more than worth talking about as deliciously delightful acting choices on Michael's part. What really caught my attention here is that in this moment, Michael's pupils are noticeably dilated.

"Why is this important?" You may be wondering. Well, it's important for two reasons: 1) That dilated pupils signal a change in emotion, most notably arousal and attraction to someone; and 2) That it is an involuntary response to stimuli:

Actors can do many amazing things. They can convey a myriad of emotions with vocal tone, gestures, and even the tiniest of microexpressions. But one thing you categorically cannot act is unprompted arousal. Michael is a brilliant actor, but there is no possible way for him to have summoned an involuntary biological response on command. In short: This is not Aziraphale reacting to Crowley. This is Michael reacting to David.

The same thing occurs in the aftermath of The Kiss in episode 6, where we again see that Michael's pupils are absolutely enormous:

Obviously, this is a very emotional scene, so it would make sense for Michael to react to it on a deep level. But the fact that his pupils are this big right as he's touching his lips and thinking of David kissing him is too powerful to ignore.

As I have said before, I will never tell anyone that they have to ship Michael and David. I do ship them myself, and have for the last four years now--despite the pushback/occasional hate Anons I have received--because I have noticed so many little things like this over and over again. But what I would say to folks who are anti-RPF or folks who have noticed similar things but are afraid to say so out loud is: Isn't it time to maybe consider acknowledging what Michael has been telling us (both in words and very clearly with his body/expressions) about his feelings for David? To put aside the rationalizing and the qualifying just for a moment to look at what is actually in front of us? There are a lot of terrible things in this world, but someone falling in love with his Scottish best friend--even if said Scotsman is married, even if it is complicated, or messy, or inconvenient--shouldn't be one of them.

Michael has said that so much of what is on screen in GO season 2 is the result of his relationship with David off-screen, and everything that has happened between them since season 1. Nowhere is that more evident than in the two moments above, as well as countless other little moments (even wordless) between Aziraphale and Crowley. I'm just so grateful that Michael and David have shared that love with us, in whatever form it may take...

#good omens 2 #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #i think we already knew Michael gets turned on by David #but just knowing his body involuntarily responds to David is quite something #i need to lie down #also please tell me when his pupils have ever been dilated with AL like that #because the answer is never #amazing #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse #gif by me