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dyingswanpavlova · 3 months ago

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"Your girl" - Part 4 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Are you really his girl? He needs to test you to find out. All the while you're slowly slipping deeper into your trauma and his world.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, mentions of murder and rape, threatening, choking, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, hinting at depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, gun usage, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Something was really fucking wrong with him, but what was far worse, something was really fucking wrong with you.

Obviously you had known that and you could tell, it wasn't all your fault. Your mother had played a great part in messing with your mind, your character, your self-perception. Then there was the man whose hands you still felt sliding up your waist.

God, you hated when someone touched your waist.

And then there was the bane of your existence. The nameless motherfucker with the soulless eyes and the briefcase.

You weren't particularly angry, like he was.

You weren't especially cruel, like she was.

Most of the time you were simply afraid.

Sometimes it were small tasks that ended up overwhelming you. Saying hello to a cashier or putting gas in your car. Getting up to brush your teeth. Eating. On some days, all these things felt entirely impossible.

On other days, you gathered your belongings, sat down in the aisle seat of a plane and flew all the way to South Korea. Just like that. Like it was nothing.

So you never really understood how your mind worked and how someone could be so broken, yet still function in some way. After all, you went to work, earned money, got at least a few things done.

The thing you hated about yourself the most was your constant fear of everything. But the thing you were most ashamed about was that other thing.

His calm voice forced your thoughts away.

"How did you sleep?"

You slowly looked up, your expression guarded as you thought about the question.

How did you sleep?

After your dramatic, almost romantic declaration that you belonged to him, he did nothing. No torturous experiments, no water bowls on the ground, no apology cakes. He simply got up, wished you a good night and went to sleep.

You lied awake all night, expecting at least some kind of reaction. Of course you didn't expect him to believe your words. So far he hadn't. Why would he now?

"I didn't sleep." You said truthfully.

He hummed softly while he poured a cup of white tea and handed it over to you. You held the cup so tightly that your palms burned against the heat of it.

"That explains why you look the way you look."

How charming.

He smiled, almost teasingly. He seemed so awfully...content.

"Can we talk about yesterday?" You murmured.

"What was yesterday?"

You felt your own expression darken, something that didn't happen often, especially not in his presence. But somehow you couldn't help yourself. You felt like he was making fun of you.

"Well, I..."

What was yesterday? How were you supposed to answer that question?

You looked down at the tea cup in your hands and stayed silent. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you again and nothing had indeed happened yesterday.

You slowly looked up and saw the shards of the shattered vase on the floor. The sight made you frown.

"I want you to do something for me today." He said matter-of-factly, while he adjusted his tie.

You looked up at him, your expression questioning. Then you slowly set the cup down on the coffee table.

"I want you to call your work and tell them you moved back home. To England.”

You froze. He couldn't mean that.

"I...What?"

"You heard me." And with that, you were forced to catch the phone he tossed your way. It was your phone. Your fucking phone. Had it been here all along?

"I can't do that." You gasped out.

Instead of answering, he slowly pulled out the gun he kept with him and looked down at it. The sight made your heart clench.

Maybe something did change. Maybe today was your last day on earth.

"I can't hear you dialing." He said calmly, as he played with the gun in his hands.

You looked down at the phone in your hands. They were shaking as you carefully unlocked it. Three messages, all from work. Just like expected.

You swallowed thickly. If you did this now, there was absolutely no hope left for you. Your life - or whatever you might want to call it - was over. He'd have his alibi and you'd be gone. Buried under a pile of dirt in some Korean forest, so many miles away from where you were actually home.

Tears stung your eyes and you slowly looked up at him, but he still wasn't looking at you.

You knew if you didn't call, you'd die anyways.

Any way.

You'd die anyways.

You choked back the sob that threatened to escape and dialed the number of your workplace. After a few seconds, you heard the voice of your boss pick up. "Hello?"

You took a shaky breath. If you just screamed your name, gun, gun, he's pointing a gun at me, maybe then at least your death wouldn't be so pointless. Maybe it would be investigated further and maybe, with all the little hope you had left, he'd get caught. You had to hope. It was all you could do. He’d get caught.

And fucking executed.

But before you could say anything, you felt his weight press you down into the couch. His weight on top of you and his gun pressed against your temple.

It cost you all your strength not to gasp. Your phone was still tightly pressed against your ear, with the difference that your hands were sweaty now.

"Hello? Who's this?" You heard your boss's impatient voice ask.

He pressed the gun harder against you, his expression furious.

"Me." You croaked out. "It's me."

After a tense silence, then the voice finally snapped: "What on earth is going on with you? Where are you, girl? Do you think you just get to stay away like that? Don't you know the goddamn rules?"

You choked back another sob while he slowly slid the barrel of the gun down along your jawline, pointing it up at your head.

"I went back home." You whispered. "I'm back in England. And I quit."

After another long, confused silence you heard your boss's voice again, but before you could make out what he was saying, he snatched your phone back and hung up.

"Good girl." He purred, before he pushed the phone into the cup with searing hot tea.

"No!"

The moment your lips parted in a desperate plea, you suddenly felt the cold metal of the gun press against your lips, demanding entrance. Your eyes widened and your chest heaved in rapid breaths.

"Keep being a good girl. Open up for me." He whispered.

When you still hesitated, he pushed the gun forward even harder.

"Don't make me say it again. You won't like what will happen then." He said between gritted teeth.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you slowly parted your lips and teeth. God, this was it. You had made a mistake, a grave one. Maybe the fact that you pushed him away last night. Maybe he was still angry about your outburst the other day. Whatever it was, now you were going to pay the price for it and the price was your life.

A quiet sob escaped your lips when you felt the gun push forward into your mouth. It felt cold against your skin, making cold sweat break out on your back. You tried to push it back using your tongue, but he only ever pushed harder. So hard, until you ended up gagging against it. That was when he stopped and held it still.

"Are you still my girl?" He hissed.

You tried to swallow, but the gun in your mouth made it impossible. Only then you realized how hard you were shaking. And all the while you never took your eyes off him. Tried to memorize him. Maybe, if you were lucky and got to Heaven after you died, maybe you could tell them who he was and what he looked like. Maybe you could beg them not to let him in.

"Are you?!" He nearly yelled and bruised your throat with the gun when he gave a rough push forward.

You coughed up another sob and nodded. A frantic movement.

He kept staring down at you, his eyes wide and crazed.

He would pull the trigger. He would kill you.

But instead he did something else.

You had no idea what was going on, all you felt was how you could suddenly move your jaw and tongue again, but instead you felt your fingers curl around something. The gun. He pressed the gun down into your hand and pulled it up against his temple. His expression was even more crazed than before and all you managed to do was watch in a mixture of indescribable fear and something like horrified fascination.

"Kill me." He hissed.

You stared at him, your eyes wide, frozen in fear.

"I told you to fucking kill me!" He yelled. "You will never get out of here, never and if you don't shoot me, I'm going to break every fucking bone in your body, before I kill you myself!"

Your fingers clenched around the gun, but nothing else changed. Your index finger, shaking like a leaf, didn't even come close to the trigger.

He growled in fury and wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing hard. Hard enough for you to immediately gasp out in horror.

"I will make your life a living hell." He growled lowly. "You will spend every waking moment wishing you were dead. I'll fuck you so hard, you'll never stand up straight again, I'll punch you so bad, your organs will give up at once, I'll break everything there is to break and before all that I'll cut your fucking tongue out, so you can't even scream! Kill me!"

Every word made your chest tighten more. You could already see it. Already feel it. You could tell he was capable of these things. You knew something just wasn't right in his mind. You knew. But something still held you back.

Was it the fear that you wouldn't get out, even after you killed him? That maybe you needed a code oto leave? Was it the fear of what would happen if you got out? That people wouldn't believe you and you'd end up in Korean prison? Or even worse, back home?

Whatever it was, you lowered the gun.

With a frustrated growl, he yanked the gun back and pressed it against his temple. He gritted his teeth. And pulled the trigger.

"No!" You screamed in such a desperate manner, that your voice cracked and your body gave in. He might as well have shot you. The pain that struck your body was the same.

But, oh God, it wasn't loaded. It wasn't loaded.

Your body was shaking and you were covered in sweat, your eyes glistening with tears and sobs dying on your tongue. You held your breath. And he stared down at you with a look that almost mirrored your own.

After the insane, tense silence stretched out above your heads for what felt like eternity, he finally lowered the gun. With a soft thud it landed on the carpet. His hand shot out and he held your cheek. His touch wasn't cruel. It was a soft caress. The gentlest touch you had ever felt.

"Don't cry." He breathed.

Were you crying? You couldn't tell.

In your mind, you were dead. Unable to process that you were indeed alive and...no, probably not all too well.

"God." He whispered. His brows furrowed in thought and he slowly, carefully trailed his fingertips down until they met your neck. Soft red marks covered it where his fingers had tightly squeezed before, cutting off your air supply. You had hardly even registered them, until you felt his gaze and fingers following the marks in quiet contemplation.

"It was a test?"

Your voice didn't sound like your own. Not even human. Just a soft breath of the wind, barely audible, if there had been anything louder than your breaths mingling in the air.

"Yes." He whispered. "I needed to know."

God, you wanted to be angry. You were angry. You wanted to fight him, punch his godforsaken, pretty face, beat him to a pulp. You wanted to hit him with the gun and make him swallow a bullet. Or ten.

But all you really did was release a soft, shuddery sob.

He seemed just as exhausted as you were, because he collapsed on top of you. His harsh breaths fanned over your neck, while he buried his face in your hair, his body on top of yours pulling the remaining air from your lungs. But that wasn't what you felt.

What you felt was his body on top of you, warm and almost comforting. What you felt was his skin against yours, a mixture of salty sweat and perfume and also something that was uniquely him.

You wanted to scream. Shriek. In anger, frustration, fear and disappointment.

But what you did instead was even worse.

Your hands, soft and careful, moved to his back and remained there. Your arms, weak and exhausted, wrapped around his form and embraced him. You didn't care that you could hardly breathe. You felt him.

You hugged him.

And you felt him stiffen on top of you. Of course, you were sure, had you hit him, his body wouldn't have gone as tense.

But that didn't make you stop.

Instead you simply tightened your arms around him and buried your face in his chest, breathing in his scent and trying to calm your nerves. And to your great surprise, he let you.

"The rules are simple."

Of course there were rules.

"When you're outside, you don't talk to other men. You don't even look at them. If I catch you doing that, I'll cut off your hair."

You nearly scoffed. As if you would ever come back to him, if you ever made it out on your own.

He seemed to read your thoughts, because he narrowed his eyes and smiled slowly.

"Don't worry, sweet girl. You won't go out until you're ready. And when you are, you'll come back to me. You'll always come back."

You tried to school your expression, but the unease was obvious.

He leaned closer and whispered: "And if I find out you're deceiving me or betraying me, I'll cut off far more than your hair."

A shiver ran down your spine and not the good kind. You nodded.

"Anything else?" You whispered.

He hummed softly.

"The foundation of our relationship stays the same, my sweet, darling girl." He murmured as he gently played with a strand of your hair. "You'll get punished when you step out of line and rewarded when you're good for me."

Of course. What else did you expect?

"As for the physical part..."

You stopped breathing. And you were sure you could hear your own heart, pounding in your chest like it was begging you to stop it from beating. To rip it out.

He hummed again and ran his fingers down to your shoulder, where he absentmindedly fidgeted with the straps of your dress.

"I have needs, sweet girl. Many of them. And they're not easily satisfied."

You stared at him.

When he didn't continue, you forced yourself to whisper: "What kind of needs?"

That made his lips curve up into a predatory grin, baring his teeth in the process. One of them was slightly crooked, you suddenly realized. Not much and it didn't do anything to his attractiveness. He was still the most handsome, soulless monster you had ever met. But something about that tiny little imperfection comforted you.

Reminded you that he was still human, instead of the devil, trapped in human form.

"You can't tell?" He purred and you shook your head.

Then he sighed softly and leaned close enough that you felt his hot breath against your ear.

"I think our needs match quite well, yours and mine."

That made your face flush in a deep crimson. No. He wouldn't use that against you, would he? Not even he could be that cruel.

He had used every mind game he played with you to find out more about that shameful thing you hated so much about yourself.

Of course he was pushy about it.

But at some point, whenever he tended to get ahead of himself, he suddenly stopped and the game was over. And he always called you a good girl afterwards. Something that made your insides tingle in a way that was pleasant and unpleasant all the same.

"Don't look at me like that." He said calmly and took a sip of his whiskey. "Did you think I wouldn't catch on that, huh?"

You averted your gaze. Yes, he was cruel like that. You didn't know why you expected him not to be. Especially after he used every opportunity to prove to you how twisted he really was.

He wasn't capable of feeling. You knew that. Except for maybe anger. And satisfaction. But that was it. No sympathy, no love, no compassion.

Pure malice.

"What I need to know though, why does a sweet girl like you have such twisted fantasies?"

You nearly choked on your water. You hadn't told him about your fantasies. Not per say. All he knew was...

"Being used."

"Used for one's pleasure."

"Not caring about my own."

Was that enough for him to know what the hell was so messed up in your head? And if he knew, could he maybe explain it to you?

It was your deepest, darkest secret.

Yes, you had mentioned it to the psychiatrist once and he had half-heartedly told you that you weren't the only one.

He had also given the tiniest hint of an explanation, why you were the way you were. But you had shut him off, before he could finish.

You quickly pushed the thoughts away. You couldn't think about that.

That had never happened. It wasn't reality. Your mind agreed with you, which was why it suppressed all the memories from back then.

"I don't want to talk about it." You nearly hissed out. That earned an amused look from him and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Calm down. And don't forget your place again. Did you forget what happened last time?”

You sighed deeply. "Will I always have to fear for my life when I speak up my mind?"

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look.

"It depends." He said calmly. "Some things you say will merely annoy me and I can try to keep myself from punishing you for your sake. And the sake of your pretty face. I do tend to get ahead of myself sometimes. Other words could get you killed, sweet girl. So, try not to gamble too much."

You swallowed thickly. Sometimes you'd forget who he was, what this was and that you had no rights here. That you were no one, except for maybe his little pet, his toy, his...his girl.

"Okay." You whispered.

"Now, now. Don't be so timid. There's no fun in that." He raised a brow and smirked.

You took a long, shaky breath. Maybe the conversation could end here and you'd finally call it a day and-

"Were you abused?"

You froze. It felt like the worst, the lowest hit he'd ever thrown at you. You didn't feel uneasy, you felt straight up nauseous.

"What?" You whispered quietly.

He nodded. "Did someone touch you? Against your will? Except the little fucker at the train station."

"Aside from you?" You clenched your jaw.

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask if somehow hurt or hit you before. I know that your bitch mother did. I'm asking if someone touched you."

As much as you wanted to scream at him or jump out of the window - It's locked, honey. Don't bother. - all you could do was sit in silence and feel as the ability to move and speak left you.

He sighed. "That explains your desires. I should have known."

He took a breath and took another sip of his drink, blissfully unaware of the way your body slowly froze solid. The way you couldn't breathe. Just enough to keep you alive. But not enough to live.

After a moment he seemed to realize that something was off, because he did something that he normally didn't. He frowned.

"Are you well?"

Your throat felt tight. Suddenly you realized, while he was choking you, you could still breathe easier than whenever this feeling came up. This chokehold. The way it pulled you under the cold water surface. The way the hand slowly slid up your bare waist and...

You gasped for air and wrapped your arms around your torso, trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

"What the-"

You hardly even recognized him or the way he gripped your arms tightly, trying to shake you back to your senses. You were slowly drowning. The light was fading. All you saw was that one spot on the wall. You couldn't look away. It was your safe haven. Your lighthouse, your beacon. You couldn't cast your gaze away, even after he cupped your face in his hands and spoke to you.

His frown was deep. He seemed genuinely confused. Confused. Was that the right word? He was in a frenzy, almost desperate to bring you back. Get through to you.

"Look at me, goddamn it, look at me." He hissed and grasped your chin tightly. He considered slapping you, but for some reason he seemed to fear that would only make you dissolve deeper into yourself. So, instead he did something else, Something that was so not at all like him, it was nearly ridiculous. It was hard to believe. It was...

"Please." He whispered. His palms gently caressed your cheeks. "Please. Come back to me."

You blinked slowly. You were still under water, but instead of the wall, you could make out his face. Under lots and lots of pain and disgust, resentment and hate for yourself, there was his face. And his eyes were soft. So much water and you still saw it. His eyes were soft as he looked at you.

"It's okay." He whispered again and nodded.

The tightness in your throat slowly gave way to a few, slow breaths.

In. And out. In. And out.

And least you could breathe again.

You briefly closed your eyes. Everything came back to you very slowly. The train station, the handsome stranger. The way his eyes darkened. And suddenly they were soft.

After a minute or so, you slowly blinked your eyes open and the sight before you was confusing as hell. He looked...so...

Concerned.

But no, that couldn't be.

It were your mind games again.

You wished so badly for someone to love you, to care about you, to be kind to you for once, that you started making up scenarios.

As if on cue, he quickly forced his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"Here. Drink." He held your water glass to your lips and slowly tilted it up until you felt the wetness of the water wash over your dried-out mouth.

You were sure. You had imagined it.

You tried to focus on your breathing and that's why you missed that he didn't look at you again. The whole evening, his eyes avoided yours like a pest.

At least you could breathe again.

Tags: @ayieayee @eviebuggg @fictionalmen-dilflover

If anyone else wants to be tagged in Part 5, let me know 🤍

1K notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

Note

hi! love your fics so much <3 i was wondering what do you think of sunshine!reader and post-prison spencer... like that man is so wary about everything after what he'd been through and sunshine!reader was just being the goodness incarnate, breaking down his walls one by one 🙏🏻

sunshine — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer having a cut on his forehead , mention of spencer having nightmares , mention of germophobia a/n: hiii !! this made me realize how much i love writing sunshine!reader x postprison!spencer <3 hope you like this

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you laughed with Penelope, your bright energy filling the room like a warm sunrise. The corners of his mouth twitched—just barely—but as soon as he felt it, he forced himself to look away, focusing on the coffee he was pouring.

But then, like clockwork, you shattered through them.

“Spencer!” Your voice was light, cheerful as you entered the breakroom. “Hi! Good morning! I haven’t seen you all day.”

You stepped closer, your shoulder brushing against his in an innocent touch, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through him. He straightened slightly, tightening his grip on the coffee cup.

“Morning,” he murmured. “Yeah, I woke up a little late today.”

What he didn’t say—what he never really said—was that the nightmares had stolen his sleep again, twisting through his mind until exhaustion finally won out, making him oversleep.

You tilted your head. “You know, my alarm clock is pretty amazing. Hasn’t failed me once,” you said, watching him take a sip of coffee. Then, almost as an afterthought, you mumbled, “Except maybe once or twice…”

A sheepish grin spread across your lips before you perked up again. “But I can totally give you the brand name! You should definitely get one.”

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The way you stood there, all warmth and light, as if the world hadn’t touched you with the same cruelty it had touched him. A part of him wanted to let that warmth in—just a little.

Instead, he gave you a small, wary smile. “No, it’s fine… but thank you.” You flashed him a bright smile.

“Okay,” you said simply, turning to grab a cup and start making your own coffee.

Spencer lingered for a moment, watching as you hummed softly to yourself, completely absorbed in your task.

He exhaled quietly, forcing himself to turn away. But as he reached the doorway, something pulled at him.

So he glanced back.

Just for a second.

You, still oblivious, stirred your coffee, completely unaware of the way his gaze softened—just barely—before he shook his head at himself and disappeared down the hall.

He wasn’t sure why he looked back. Maybe that was the part that scared him the most.

That wasn’t the first time moments like this had happened.

Like that one evening on the jet.

The case had been brutal. He sat in his usual spot, silent, lost in thought.

And then there was you.

Sliding into the seat next to him, your knee brushed against his, a casual, fleeting touch that sent a ripple of awareness through him. You didn’t pry or push—you never did.

You simply pulled a small Sudoku book from your bag and flipped it open. A quiet invitation.

Spencer wasn’t sure why he kept sneaking glances at you as you worked through the puzzle, pencil tapping idly against the page. Maybe it was the way your lips quirked in concentration, or how you absentmindedly twirled the pencil between your fingers when you were thinking.

You were stuck—long enough that he finally caved.

“Four,” he murmured, tapping his finger lightly against the empty square, his arm brushing against yours in the process.

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his, and then came that smile—the one that made something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.

“Thanks,” you said. For some reason, that made him feel lighter. You bit your lip surpressing an even bigger smile at the realization that your plan was working.

At some point, you shifted the book between the two of you, an unspoken offer to let him join in. He could have filled out the entire page in seconds—he already had the answers mapped out in his head—but he waited, watching you work through each number, patient in a way he rarely was.

And when he saw it—that telltale little pout, the way your lips puckered just slightly when you were stumped.

Without a word, he would lean in again, pencil grazing the page.

“Seven,” he murmured.

Your smile was even brighter this time. You always had a way of brightening his day, even when he least expected it.

Some mornings, Spencer woke up convinced that smiling was out of the question. And yet, somehow, you always managed to prove him wrong.

Like today.

He stepped into the bullpen, his eyes catching Emily and JJ standing by a small pink bakery box, happily grabbing donuts from inside. By the time he walked closer, the box was already half-empty.

Typical.

Spencer barely had time to process his disappointment before your voice chimed in from behind him.

“Spencer!”

He turned just as you appeared, a small box in your hands. Without hesitation, you pressed it into his.

“Here.”

He blinked down at it, fingers curling around the edges. “Hi. What’s this?”

“Open it,” you urged, practically bouncing on your feet.

Lifting the lid, he found a single chocolate-sprinkled donut inside. His favorite.

“I knew the team would finish them all,” you said, nodding toward JJ, who—right on cue—grabbed another donut with a sheepish grin. “So I thought I’d get you one in a separate box.”

You smiled, and Spencer found himself just… staring.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” he said softly, offering a small but genuine smile before taking a bite.

You and he both knew why you’d gone out of your way to do this. It wasn’t just because he was often late these days, dragging himself in after nights spent wrestling with his own mind. It wasn’t just because the team had a tendency to wipe out the treats before he even got a chance.

It was because you’d noticed.

Noticed the way he hesitated before grabbing food that others had already touched. Noticed that, despite his insistence that prison had forced him to overcome his germophobia, old habits still lingered.

But neither of you said anything about it.

Instead, you just smiled at each other before heading to your desks, like this was normal—like it wasn’t something small and kind and significant.

And maybe, for the first time in a long while, Spencer started to believe that kindness didn’t always come with a catch.

That's when things started to shift.

One morning, as you were settling in at your desk, a cup appeared in your line of sight.

You blinked, looking up—only to find Spencer standing there, his expression unreadable but his gesture speaking louder than words.

“Oh.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face before it melted into a bright smile. “Thank you.”

You took the cup carefully, warmth seeping into your palms, trying to pretend like this wasn’t a big deal. Like your heart hadn’t skipped a little at the thought of Spencer Reid going out of his way for you.

Spencer shifted slightly on his feet, glancing away as if regretting the decision to linger. “I, um… You always bring everyone else coffee. Thought I’d return the favor.”

Your fingers curled around the cup a little tighter.

“Oh, so you do notice,” you teased lightly, taking a sip. It was exactly how you liked it. Of course it was—Spencer noticed everything.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible huff of amusement, shaking his head. “I notice a lot of things.”

Something in the way he said it made your stomach flip.

But before you could respond, he cleared his throat and tapped the file on your desk. “We have a briefing in five minutes.”

And just like that, he was walking away, as if this was nothing. As if he hadn’t just let his walls slip, even for a second.

You watched him go, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

Little by little, he was letting you in.

And he probably didn’t even realize it yet.

The next instances were small, almost imperceptible, but to anyone paying attention, it was clear Spencer was letting his walls down bit by bit.

He’d consistently choose the seat next to you in the bullpen, even if there were other open spots. He’d find himself working alongside you—no matter what the task was.

And it wasn’t just in the office. Spencer’s schedule seemed to align with yours more often than not. He’d find himself finishing up work at the same time as you and walking out alongside you.

The way he would stand near your desk, leaning in just a bit to hear your voice, was becoming something he almost looked forward to.

There was no grand moment of confession, no flashing neon sign that screamed, Spencer is letting you in, but it was happening in little gestures, in the softening of his gaze when he looked at you.

Maybe he wasn’t fully aware of it, or maybe he was too guarded to admit it, but it was happening, and that was enough for you.

But one particular day, the usual rhythm shifted. The case they’d been working on had taken its toll on everyone, but Spencer had been especially distant.

No one had missed the way he’d brushed off the slight injury to his forehead, a thin cut from the struggle during the case.

It was barely noticeable at first, but under the harsh lighting of the bullpen, it was impossible to ignore.

“Spencer.” Your voice was soft but firm. He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

You were already reaching into the drawer of your desk, fingers brushing over the familiar cool metal of your first aid kit.

It was instinct, really—an automatic response to someone else’s pain.

“Come here,” you said, motioning toward the chair beside your desk. Your smile was warm and reassuring.

“I’m fine.” His voice was quiet, dismissive. A reflex, more than anything.

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Spencer Reid,” you said gently, and something about the way you spoke his name made his resolve waver. “You’re not fine. Come here.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. You saw the conflict flicker across his features, the instinct to withdraw battling against something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like longing.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he relented.

You resisted the urge to let out a relieved sigh as he sat down, watching as he brushed his hair back from his face.

“You should’ve taken care of this before we got on the jet,” you murmured, pulling out disinfectant and a clean cotton pad. Your hands worked steadily, but your heart was another matter entirely.

It always seemed to race when he was close like this.

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. “There were more important things to worry about.”

You frowned. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to take care of yourself.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you stepped closer, standing between his legs without thinking twice about it. It wasn’t until your fingers tilted his chin gently upward that you realized how close you were.

Your breath hitched.

Spencer, for his part, remained still. If he was aware of the proximity, he didn’t say anything. But you saw the way his lips parted slightly, how his gaze flickered from your hands to your face like he was memorizing the details of the moment.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“This might sting,” you warned softly.

He gave a small nod, but his eyes never left yours.

The moment the antiseptic touched his skin, he barely reacted. But you felt the sharp intake of his breath, saw the slight twitch of his fingers where they rested on his lap.

“You’re really bad at this whole ‘letting people take care of you’ thing, you know that?” you said, attempting to lighten the air between you.

Spencer exhaled a small chuckle, and the sound made your chest feel warm.

“I’m aware.”

You smiled despite yourself, shaking your head as you pressed a bandage carefully over the cut. “Yeah, well. Lucky for you, I’m stubborn.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something almost too vulnerable to name.

“I’ve noticed,” he murmured.

Your fingers lingered against his skin for just a second too long before you forced yourself to take a step back, clearing your throat.

“There,” you said, suddenly feeling breathless. “Good as new.”

Spencer didn’t move right away. He just sat there, watching you in a way that made your stomach twist into knots.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Thank you.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Anytime.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, Spencer did something that surprised you.

He stood up and reached out, hesitating only for a second before his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The contact was fleeting—just enough to make your breath catch—but then, in a single motion, he pulled you forward.

Before you could fully process it, you found yourself wrapped in his arms.

Spencer was hugging you.

It wasn’t a quick, polite embrace. It was full-bodied, desperate in a way that made your heart ache. His arms tightened around you as if he was afraid you might slip away, and when you felt his lips rest against your shoulder, you thought you might actually break.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around him in return. You felt the tension in his frame, the way he held onto you like he didn’t want to let go.

One of your hands moved up, fingers threading softly through his hair in a soothing motion. You felt him exhale against your skin, the tension in his shoulders melting little by little as he leaned into your touch.

When he finally pulled away, it was slow—like he wasn’t entirely ready to let go. His hands lingered at your waist, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of your shirt.

His eyes, usually guarded, were soft in a way you rarely got to see.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of it.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupted gently. “Not for that.”

He blinked at you, something unreadable passing through his gaze. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded.

And then, to your surprise, he lifted a hand, hesitating for only a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was barely there, fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of just how close you still were.

“I should probably—” Spencer started, but he didn’t move, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered, but you didn’t move either.

Neither of you did.

Not yet.

And in that moment, you knew.

The walls he’d spent so long building were finally beginning to come down.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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kiss4tell · 2 months ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐏✩𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒, task force 141.

happy valentines day to everyone who daydreams about getting dicked down by their favorite 141 boys ₊˚⊹♡

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ༝༚༝༚ after a long, exhausting day that left simon sweaty and sore, all he wanted was to come home to his sweet angel, to hold you in his arms and let the weight of the world melt away. so when he walked through the door and saw you in the kitchen, making his favorite dinner in nothing but those pretty little panties and his shirt slipping off your shoulder, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. he pulled you into the bedroom, taking his time, making sure you felt every inch of him inside you, letting you know exactly what you do to him.

𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 ༝༚༝༚ johnny never had much luck in relationships—either his emotional baggage was too much, or his… passion in the sack was a little overwhelming. so when the prettiest bird he’s seen in a long, long time comes up to him at the bar, hitting him with brain-melting pickup lines that leave him weak in the knees, he knows he has to take you home. he has to show you exactly how much he appreciates the ego boost, and he does it in the only way he knows how—with his cock, making damn sure you know just how wanted you are.

𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 ༝༚༝༚ as much as john would love to drive you into the mattress the second he comes home from a three-week-long deployment, he knows you deserve more than that—you’ve been waiting so patiently for him, after all. so instead, he takes his time, worshipping you with his hands, tracing them over every inch of your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, pressing kisses to your heated skin before finally pumping his fingers inside you, watching the way your pretty face changes with every curl, every stroke, every sweet little noise that slips from your lips.

𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞 ༝༚༝༚ there’s nothing kyle loves more than watching every expression you make as he takes you in missionary, his dark eyes drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every parted gasp, every way your body reacts to him. he times his thrusts just right, keeping his pace deep and calculated, watching the way your tits bounce with each one, unable to resist pinching them, suckling them, cupping them in his hands just to see you squirm. his lips stay close to your ear, whispering praise after praise, letting you know exactly how much you mean to him, exactly how good you feel wrapped around him, exactly how fucking lucky he is to have you.

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cherrysweets-world · 3 months ago

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Eyes of the Gods IV

series masterlist - part III

Pairing - Geta x fem!reader x Caracalla

Summary - Geta and Caracalla force you further into their world.

Warnings - 18+, unedited, forced proximity, power imbalances, future dub-con, period typical sexism, mentions of domestic violence, masturbation, lonliness, dondus is a girly

Word Count - 2.5k

The majority of your morning passed in a similar fashion. You'd stand against the wall, leaving it on occasion to fetch Geta wine or do whatever else he bid you, which wasn't much. In the light of day and alone he seemed glaringly human. He flipped through the papers on his desk, offering the occasional scoff or scowl, and sometimes even appeared bored.

That was, of course, when he wasn't staring at you. You felt his eyes burning into the side of your face for minutes at a time but stood still, unwilling to meet his gaze. Geta would look down and then quickly up again as if determined to catch you in the middle of something. It would have been amusing if he was not the Emperor.

After several hours of this game, he sat back in his chair and let his pen fall to the table. "Tell the guards outside the door that they are to bring some food."

You bowed your head dutifully but stopped several paces from the door.

"Is there an issue?" he said mockingly.

"I. . .believe that would be my job," you said slowly, turning to face him. "I should fetch whatever it is you request."

Geta seemed to think about this for several seconds. He picked his pen back up and began tapping it against his desk. Tap tap tap.

"Ask them for whatever you want as well," he finally said. "I suppose you have not eaten?"

Your cheeks turned hot. True, you had not. You had been in such a rush this morning that you hadn't had time to stop by the kitchens for your usual morning meal. Geta had kept you so distracted that you had hardly even registered your own hunger.

"I do not believe it is appropriate for me to eat with you," you tried, tapping your nails against your palms.

"Is it appropriate to ignore the orders of the Emperor?"

"No - "

"Well, then."

His eyes dared you to argue further. Swallowing your words, you went to the door and spoke with the guard. You requested fruits and bread for Geta and a bowl of porridge for yourself. The guard's brows raised at the porridge and you shrugged, gesturing behind you as thought that was enough explanation. The guard seemed to think so and you watched as he disappeared down the corridor.

Your purpose here was a mystery to you. It was unusual to have a cupbearer who did only that. You had assumed you would fetch his meals, perhaps tidy up after him too. Instead you had stood at the wall for almost the entire morning. The biggest task was avoiding the Emperor's wandering gaze and it was by far the most exhausting.

"What would you usually be doing at this time?" he asked.

"Uh," you stammered, confused by the question, "I would be in the kitchen, I suppose, Emperor."

Geta tilted his head. You allowed yourself to look up and meet his eyes, desperate to read his mood. Every question felt like he was trying to slip you up, though for what purpose you did not know. Like that night in the entertainment hall, his tongue traced along his top and bottom lip. You found yourself watching the movement and forced yourself to look away.

"I am sure this is preferable, then," he seemed to decide to himself.

You blinked and couldn't help but ask, "My apologies, Emperor, but what is my purpose here?"

It was the most you dared ask but you wanted to know. If you did not then it was more likely you would make a mistake, take a wrong step in this dance he was forcing you through, and the consequences could be deadly. You had assumed you would take up all the responsibilities of a cup-bearer or maid but you were wrong. Now you were left floundering, wondering what to do next. You could not leave yourself any more vulnerable than you already were.

At that moment there was a knock at the door. Grateful for the interruption you rushed over, gladly relieving the guard of the tray of food and whispering a quiet thank you before letting the door fall closed.

Geta still had not answered your question but you carried the tray over to him, sliding it gently onto his desk. You pushed some of his papers aside to make more room and then stepped back, clasping your hands in front of you so as not to look so clueless.

Geta picked out your porridge from the rest of the food and scowled as if it was a personal offence. He pushed it toward you. "Take it. Sit. Eat."

Cautiously you walked away, picking out a chair furthest away from Geta's desk. You pressed your lips together and stared down at it, put off by the elegant craftmanship. You had never sat on something so expensive before.

"Sit,'" he ordered again, popping a grape into his mouth. He was watching you closely as though curious about what you might do. As if you had any other chance but to obey his commands.

You did as he bid, angling your body so that you would not have to face the full force of his stare. Never had you had such a little appetite but you spooned up a mouthful of porridge anyway. It clung to your teeth and was near impossible to swallow. You ate it mechanically, one spoon after another.

It was odd; you felt perhaps more bare now than when you had been forced to dress in front of Geta. Powerful people could demand anything in this world but there were a few things you had been able to rely on with your work in the palace. Food and sleep were two of them.

Caracalla had slipped into your room last night like it was nothing. The Praetorians had not questioned it. They could not and would not have stopped him. Now Geta insisted upon you eating in front of him and you could do nothing but force the food down and pretend that you were in the kitchen, alone, planning the rest of your afternoon.

The door opened once more and you paused. Caracalla shuffled in, Dondus perched upon his shoulders. The monkey spotted you before Caracalla did. She clambered down from his clothes and towards you, using your skirts to pull herself up onto your lap.

You offered her your fingers like before and she greeted you, chattering noisily. Perhaps you and her were not so different; both of you were there for the amusement of the Emperors and not much else. All the wine serving was a pretence but for what, you did not know.

This was the first time you had gotten a good look at Caracalla in the light of day. He seemed much brighter, more awake. The shadow of his illness lingered around his shoulders like a shrugged-off cloak.

Caracalla approached you, swiping his fingers along your bare shoulders as he passed. You almost squeaked as he forced himself beside you, giggling at your tense reaction.

"You should eat something, brother," Geta picked up a bowl of fruits and came over to hand them to his brother. The room felt unbearably hot with both of them in such close proximity. Geta spoke much more softly to his brother than he had you.

Caracalla accepted the bowl with little interest. He picked up a single berry and rolled it between his fingers. A smile tugged on the corners of his lips and he held it up.

"Open up," he demanded.

Flickers of mirth danced around Caracalla's face but his eyes were deadly serious. Last night you had been able to sway him into doing your bidding but you could see that was not possible now.

Geta lingered in front of you, waiting to see how the situation would play out. It felt like a test.

You parted your lips and Caracalla pushed the berry past them, swiping his fingers across your lips as you chewed. There was no humor now. This was something heavier, warmer.

Caracalla pulled his hand away from your face. He absentmindedly traced those same fingers across his own lips, eyes fixated on your mouth.

You tried to focus on your porridge. It was now stone cold. Caracalla let out a whine and demanded your attention back on him, pressing another grape to your mouth and watching hotly as you ate them.

"Good girl," he praised.

It felt like your blood was vibrating. The berries varied between sour and sweet, not unlike the man in front of you. Nonetheless you chewed them and swallowed them down. Your eyes danced across Caracalla's chest, unsure on where to settle.

You were not entirely prudish. You knew the contours and folds of your own body well and had even fumbled around with several boys in your time at the palace. You tended to find more satisfaction with your own hand.

This, though, was unlike any of your previous experiences. Bells were sounding in your mind. There was something oddly erotic about it. Part of you wanted to lean away, divert Caracalla's attention to something else, yet you found yourself leaning in, tilting your chin and letting Caracalla feed you.

It wasn't until Caracalla's hand began to slip between the folds of his own gold-embroidered toga that Geta stepped in. You averted your gaze and coughed, wiping the purple-pink smears from your mouth.

You could not read Geta. He pulled his brother from the chair and lead him to his own desk, away from you. Flustered, you poked your spoon around in the remains of your porridge. There was little point in eating anymore. You were full.

The afternoon trickled by. Snatches of conversation caught your attention but you made yourself turn away. They were not for your ears.

"Acacius has returned, victorious of course," Geta said. "He does not seem to enjoy it."

Caracalla cackled. "I know someone else who does not enjoy bloodshed."

You looked up. Both stared at you expectantly. "I. . . I am sure the general and I could not be more different."

"Hmm," Geta's mouth twisted in thought. "He has requested time to spend with his family."

"You have granted him this?"

"No."

You could not hide the disapproval on your face quick enough. Geta barked a laugh, surprised. "What are you thinking?" he leaned forward in his chair. "Really, I must know."

"I am thinking I am not fit to advise an emp -"

"Not advice, then," Geta dismissed your concern. "Amuse us."

This could get me killed, you thought. Then again, was there anything that couldn't? They could have you taken out and thrown to your death if they felt the slightest inclination. Your mind wouldn't let you forget it.

"I think," you said slowly, "that the general would appreciate the rest. His lady wife, too. Perhaps if you let him have this he would be more amenable in the future?"

The brothers shared a look and you clenched your teeth. Was this it? Your death? Your palms were sweaty as you slid them together and rocked on your feet.

"I do not see why we should let him have anything," Caracalla's face twisted. "He and his wife have been given privileges that no-one else has. They have been honored!"

"It wouldn't be for them," you said quickly, "it would be for you. Both of you. You are young; there is plenty of time for conquering. Some rest now means nothing. But it might get you things you want in the future - and rather than having to take them, they would be given."

You stopped, too nervous to continue. You were no advisor. You did, however, have an understanding of most people. Everyone except them.

If you gave something you were likely to get something in return. That, you understood. You had heard things about the general and his feelings towards the conquering he did for the emperors. Rome was already delicate enough. An uprising would shatter whatever fragile ground you stood on and, perhaps selfishly, you did not want that.

"Given," Caracalla echoed, fingers tracing the edge of some papers. "I like to be given things. Sometimes I take them too."

You thought back to the berries, his fingers on your face. He had taken something from you then but you were not sure what.

They did not address you again for the rest of the afternoon. They were entirely focused on their work. This time their voices were lowered enough that you could not quite hear them. It was better that way. You let your mind drift.

You took your meals with the emperors, wolfing them down and avoiding their leers. It could have been your imagination but the food tasted better than what you were used to.

The room had darkened considerably by the time you were dismissed.

"One of the guards will escort you to your new room," Geta tapped his fingers on the desk, "I expect you ready tomorrow morning."

There was an implication in the way that he spoke; you were to go to your room and remain there. No visiting friends in the kitchen or wandering about. They would know if you did.

Geta held out his hand expectantly. You took it in your own, tilting it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. These were hands that had never seen a hard days work. Hands that were gradually squeezing you tighter and tighter into a position that you did not want to be in. You cleared your throat and stepped back.

Caracalla stuck out his and you did the same. When you tried to pull away Caracalla tightened his grip on your hand. It took several tries to pull away.

As Geta had said, there was a guard waiting to take you to your own room. It still sounded strange in your head. Your own room. You’d never had your own space but you had never needed it more.

The room was distressingly close to the quarters of the emperors. In was just a nook in the wall, really, but more room than you'd ever had before. There was no windows; only a small wooden side table and a straw mattress atop a wooden frame. The guard let you in and then left you.

Your fingers traced the frame. It was simply crafted but unlike anything you had had before. It was sturdy. You sat on the mattress. Comfortable, too.

You stuffed your old tunics and the carving into the side table. Then you noticed a wooden peg jutting from the wall. A place for your new clothes. You hung them up reluctantly, wishing there was somewhere you could shove them out of sight.

This was it, then. You lay back on the bed and smoothed your hands over the sheet. You had thought you might be glad for the privacy. Instead, you were lonely. You longed for Alba and the faces of familiar servants. She was probably somewhere below you, settling down for her own night.

You gritted your teeth and pushed your face into the mattress. There was no telling what tomorrow would bring. You could feel yourself being propelled towards it and braced.

Authors Note - please leave likes, asks, comments & reblogs if you enjoyed, they keep me going!!

As you can probably tell, the emperors will not be getting assasinated in this one. They're still shitty leaders but the events that lead up to their deaths in the movie will be different.

taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @t6gse370 @merrymunsons @europixie @prestinalove @malfoycassimalfoy @jovial-cowboy

#emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla #joseph quinn #emperor geta #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader x geta #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla x you #banners by enchanthings

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yaseraphine · 5 months ago

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pick a card 3 - something you need to hear right now.

Last day where the Sun is in Scorpio. First day where the Sun enters Sagittarius.

The month of November is always a tough month for everyone. This pick a card is aimed to give some guidance through these dark times. Scorpio energy can be sometimes overwhelmingly intense and gloomy, but it holds great power. Use this energy to die peacefully, and shed your old skin. Like a phoenix, we will all rise from our ashes.

Words of encouragement, healing messages and a tiny bit of reality checks are what this reading will bring you. Hope it resonates.

Pile 1

The World, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords, 10 of Swords (Rx), Queen of Pentacles (Rx?)

Top of the deck : 8 of Cups

Bottom of the deck : 2 of Swords

Life path 7 / Life path 11

“You don’t drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there.”

“Do what makes you fucking happy”

additional quote : “Do what makes your soul shine <3”

Right off the bat, there is a sense of urgency in walking away from something and making a firm decision. I think you have been in denial about something in your life, avoiding it by trying to live a “normal life”. You’ve been focusing on your day to day tasks as a distraction but something has been at the back of your mind for a while now. And when I say for a while, I mean at least two years, or one year. It is something that you have, overtime, subconsciously suppressed because at the time this thing, career, job, creative endeavor,.. was important to you, but you did not have (or thought you didn’t have) enough knowledge and resources to take methodical practical steps towards it. I am picking up that this might have been something that happened slightly before or during the pandemic (2019/2020). The World fell out of the deck, and this card indicates the completion of a cycle, an ending. After it, the 2 of Wands fell, which indicates future planning, progress, decision and discovery. I feel like the message you need to hear is that now is the perfect time to start this project of yours, or at least plan the practical actions you need to take over the course of the next few months to accomplish it. Don’t overthink over certain details and possible technical issues. There is a fire inside of you that you consistently turned off, thinking and hoping that the embers would eventually die out. The problem you are currently facing is that they never did. You might have an Aries North node. Being assertive and independent doesn’t come easy to you. Starting projects and following your instincts without second guessing yourself is hard. You tried to manage your truest and deepest desires but I feel like this past year, the desire to let it all out, probably influenced by the Lunar nodes being in the sign of Aries and Libra, urging you to just go for it, intensified to the point of suffocation.

Your spirit guides are urging you to take this leap of faith, to walk confidently towards that goal like The Fool, without worrying if you run the risk of falling from a ravine in the process.

They’re telling you to start slow, to take a step by step approach while still keeping a strong mindset. You will come out victorious only if you’re able to keep pushing through the obstacles. What awaits you is a slow and steady marathon and growth. You can do it !

Oracle cards from the Green With Oracle pulled for you :

16 - Memory / Rosemary => Leo energy

“Deeper levels of connection with people, concepts and plans are all areas that Rosemary works with. You are reminded to ensure you are in touch with your inner wisdom, paying heed to the past, and have cleared what needs to be released. Listen to your intuition as it is calling to you at present, but be wary of gossip or becoming tactless or too forceful.”

5 - Grounding / Potato => Virgo energy

“Explore the deepest, innermost areas of yourself and situations, as potatoes indicate energies that are calling you to look again at what you may have once missed and will help to bring stability. If you are looking for an answer, try pulling back a little to let things settle on their own first. Challenges at the moment may include ignorance, self-centeredness and forgetfulness, so make sure you are compassionate and focused.

You are called to use all the knowledge you acquired overtime to finally take action. You’re currently ending a cycle. You have enough wisdom to make a plan that will lead you closer and closer to tangible success. Trust your intuition and inner guidance. Don’t make rash decisions, but be decisive.

Just realized these two cards have the same message in the guide book ! This is a crazy coincidence. I used it many times and never paid attention. I didn’t even know two cards could have the same message. This is crazy lol. Let me share the quote with you :

“When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden”

Pile 2

2 of cups, 3 of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Ace of Wands, The Star, 2 of Swords, Page of Pentacles 10 of Pentacles

“The same light you see in others is shining within you too.”

(there are a lot of references to light, stars,shining,;. throughout the reading. Are you drawn to space ? or the galaxy ? You’re probably a huge astrology, and/or astronomy nerd. You are probably also a huge dreamer. Maybe drawn to the idea of being a starseed. You might have strong aquarius placements, or a populated 11th house. Pluto finally going in Aquarius this week is going to grant you so much luck and recognition ! You are about to step into your power for the next 20 years. Like a rocket, you are about to fly towards the stars. Are you ready for the take off ?

“Don’t let the ugliness of others kill the beauty in you”

Something you need to hear is that you are about to be blessed by the universe ! Shooting Star by XG just started playing !

“Babe, if I give it my all, will it pay off?

Workin' overtime, no days off

All these shootin' stars in the dark (Yeah)

All these shootin' stars in the dark, make a wish (Yeah)

Takin' off from the ground, it's amazin'

So outta this world, I'm in space

Now I'm goin' up, headin' to the stars

Wouldn't trade it out for another life, no

Yeah, we ridin', ridin', ridin' on up (Woo)

So shinin', shinin', shinin' for sure

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish (Shinin', shinin', yeah)

Ooh, ah, put in work like it's a habit (I'm lookin' so lavish)

It's a big move, every day's like a dream

Makin' big moves as I should 'cause I'm a queen (Ooh)

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish

Ooh, ah, yeah, I bet you can't imagine (Oh yeah)”

You are shining on your way towards the stars. You are currently in your Queen of Wands and Ace of Wands energy, (Million Dollar Baby just started playing, you’re really sure of yourself and goal oriented right now).

You are bursting with confidence and assertiveness. You are determined towards your goals. You are in a “work hard, play hard” type of energy. If it’s not currently happening, you are about to have a huge burst of popularity on whatever you’re currently working on. Could be any project, a youtube channel, a business : there are a few people that are well respected in the industry you're aiming for that are eyeing you right now and that are about to offer you a contract/ a deal/ a collaboration. They have been probably on a hunt for someone like you for a while now and they were probably starting to lose hope until they came across your page/work/profile. They see you as a Star, you’re unique and like The Star in the tarot, you represent hope and faith to them/to their business/ association/school/company. They see your raw potential and they are going to help you refine it.

Right now, you’re probably more focused on your work/ career/ school and nurturing your friendships, going out. You’re basically active in your social circles and this is benefiting you a lot !

An additional message you need to know is that you’re attracting a soulmate! It’s not necessarily a romantic soulmate, could be a friendship, a mentor.. Whatever the nature of this relationship is, it is going to fill you up with even more joy and hope! Your spirit guides are so proud of you and of all the work you have been putting in lately. Even though it was hard, you stayed patient and worked diligently towards your goals and desired reality. You did a lot of shadow work, tried your best to let go of the limiting beliefs that were holding you back. The Universe wants to tell you they are about to reward you.

Oracle card from the Green With Oracle pulled for you :

40 - Positivity / Marigold : Leo energy (again you are shining and radiating confidence! Your solar plexus chakra and sacral chakra might be in overdrive currently! You are the main character in the play that is your life.)

“A better understanding is indicated and a reason to be more optimistic about outcomes and the roads to get there. There are opportunities for nurturing encounters and a general aura of happiness pervades. Marigolds help us focus on the positive aspects of even the most difficult events. Your inner child may need to come out for a play, and be sure to take creative invitations. Be wary of not having all the facts and of emotional blockages.”

Pile 3

TW : this pile is a bit sad and angsty.

Before I pulled any cards for you, I already felt your energy overlapping in Pile 2’s reading. Your energy was really intense, deep and melancholic. Sad songs started playing, which completely contradicted pile 2’s energy (which was overwhelmingly positive). You are probably going through a really tough period right now and your soul is desperately crying for help, praying for a hand to come and save you. You have been having really painful realizations regarding your past, especially your childhood. You’ve recently realized that the child inside of you was buried alive. You’ve recently realized that you lost your essence. While growing up, you accommodated to the world around you, what people expected of you, what was “normal”, what was acceptable. By bowing down to other people’s expectations, you let your true self die slowly. You’ve been on autopilot for a while now, completely numb and empty. There is a bit of mirroring between this pile and pile 1 of suppressing one's authentic self and desires.

Right now, you feel that your heart has been almost rotting inside. You lost all of your passion and your spark of life. But, don’t worry, what you need to hear now is that this painful realization is what is going to set you free. It is the first step towards a really deeply healing period where you are going to reconnect with your inner child. I heard : “The truth will set you free, but first, it will piss you off”. Did you read my last reading by any chance ? I am getting the energy that you chose pile 2 and 3, both or just one, or that you would resonate with those two piles for some reason. Don’t hesitate to check it out, you might find some comforting messages I heard !

Now, let me pull some cards for you. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to use different decks than the ones I used for the first two piles. So, your pile will have different messages (no message from the Green Witch oracle for you)

[took a little break before going to your pile. You probably need to slow down on your day to day tasks. I know it’s really hard in the productivity obsessed capitalist world we live in, and it is a huge privilege to be able to have enough time and energy to spiritually reconnect with ourselves, but this is what your spirit guides are urging you to do. You’ve got this.]

For you, I used the Occult Tarot and the Heavenly Bodies Astrology deck.

I only pulled 2 cards, one per deck (it was supposed to be like that but more cards sneaked in while shuffling haha) I feel like you need just a simple check up.

Cardinal - Instigation, Bravery and A pioneering spirit => your lost spark and childlike innocence will soon be reignited by a deep healing period. A new beginning is coming for you, but it will take some hibernating time before it comes.

Sagittarius - Optimism, Exploration and Freedom

Trine - Angelic Support, Harmony and Perfect Flow

Reconnect to your higher self and spiritual side. Disconnect from the direct, yet understandable, dissatisfaction you feel towards life. Your embers that were slowly dying will relive, just trust the process, enter the deepest parts of yourself and keep exploring with positivity : your angels will guide you. There is a team of spirit guides and angels that are proud of your progress. Even if you don’t see it, they do and they want to tell you : There is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on walking.

The Hermit and the Ace of Swords : The truth about your past came out, now is the time to meditate on those realizations and integrate them. Alchemize the pain in wisdom. You are about to come out stronger than ever. Isolate yourself, or at least try to keep your peace and have a lot of alone time (without completely stopping socializing altogether, humans are social creatures, connecting with people is important for our wellbeing) to ponder, analyze, decrypt all the patterns that you’ve been repeating. Reconnect with your inner child, look at photos of yourself when you were younger, delve deep into your childhood and childhood wounds. Maybe try to find what your attachment style is, anything that stems from your childhood that has been making you stuck in a rut these past years. Maybe, if you can, try to heal the relationship you had with your parents/parent or primary caregiver. Try to understand the nature of you guys’ relationship to see how it affects your self worth now. You've got this, trust me.

here is a link to my ko-fi.

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #divination #tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards

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yoru-exe · 3 months ago

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PHAINON ۫ ꣑ৎ woe of a hero

"we were just about to leave marmoreal market when the big bad guys blocked our path. they were everywhere!", the boy recounted his story with so much vigor. thankfully, your young patient didn't move too much for you to attend to his sprained ankle.

under your makeshift medical tent, the wounded were resting as they waited for the heirs to provide their needed assistance managing the damage left by nikador's titankins. a lot of building and materialistic goods were affected, but so far, you've only observed minor injuries.

"but then mr. chartonus came and helped us! i wanted to go back but now that my ankle is sprained..".

"chartonus is in a good state, you have nothing to fear", phainon suddenly appeared behind you, and the boy's eyes widened with delight.

"lord phainon!".

you kept your composure but truth be told, you're as delighted as he was, if not more. you've been waiting all day for your lover to stop by with no avail. part of you were happy that perhaps he's not in any urgent need for your care. another part of you were worried sick if something had happened to him.

the boy and his mother excused themselves right after you completed your treatment to find their savior to thank him. now that you had your attention undivided on phainon, you moved to inspect him. but before you get to do anything, phainon grabbed your face by the chin and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"i wanted to come by sooner. but the market was in a bad shape and i can't just turn a blind eye. tribbie told me you're unharm, but still, i apologise for making you wait".

your legs felt weak. if it wasn't for his strong arms wrapped around your body, you would have fallen. but you managed to shake your head, "i'm glad you're alright".

when you caught what you just said, your attention was pulled back to his state, "did you sustain any injury?". the hero chuckled. he loved how attentive you were to your responsibility even though you could've just bask in each others' presence and forget about the world for a moment.

"i received a few, although nothing too serious. i've patched them up, but it'd be great if you could have a look at the ones on my back. i can't quite reach them by myself". you nodded and rushed to gather a fresh supply of medical equipments. when you returned, your lover was halfway stripping the top part of his clothes, making you jump.

he tilted his head with an unspoken question, and you mentally kicked yourself to recenter your focus on the task at hand.

as you fell into the rhythm of your work, you noticed how phainon had been uncharacteristically quiet. you decided to give him a moment. after all, the holy city that ought to be the safest haven just received a heavy attack. he must be shaken to an extent.

your worry resurfaced when his silence persisted even after you finished. he didn't even notice you've moved yourself to stand in front of him.

gently, you cupped his face in your palms, caressing his skin, careful not to startled him.

"o-oh, hey".

"hey yourself. is everything alright?".

he forced a smile, trying to reassure you that it wasn't concerning enough for you to worry about, but knowing you, you'd probably see pass his deception. he looked away, sighing, "just a few things on my mind".

he stopped himself there, and you took it as a sign that he's not ready to open his worry up to you, yet. it's something you've grown to respect. you couldn't begin to imagine the burden he carries as the prophesised saviour of the world. the least you could do was comfort him, even if just a little bit.

you closed the gaps between the two of you, embracing him close to your heart. "you can confine in me when you're ready. i'll always be here".

he was unresponsive for a moment, letting your words sink in. then, he wrapped his arms around your body. the tightness didn't hurt in any manner, but it's apparent how desperate he was, as if trying not to drown in his own dark thoughts with you as his anchor.

there were a thousand things he could say in reply. he could even began to sing an ode to your love or recite a romantic poem or two (you know by experience he would), but he simply said, "thank you", pressing his face deeper into your embrace. you could feel his lips stretching to form a smile, a peaceful one this time.

your slowly swayed with him still in your hold. relief filled your system to the sound of his laughter which made you smile yourself.

"do you know how much i love you?"

"do enlighten me, if you'd be so kind", you leaned down to meet his lips halfway. this time, he took his time to savour it with only you in his mind.

"i wish i could just stay here", he exhaled. "do you think aglaea will be mad if i'm not out there playing hero?".

"oh i think she'll lose her mind". to that, the both of you shared a laughter.

he excused himself when an elderly women seek your medical assistance, but not before he promised to stop by again later. you watched his wide back, the hero so strong-bodied, yet his heart was so tender. silently, you sent him a prayer for a safe return.

✿ AUTHOR'S NOTE ✿

boy oh boy, this man sure YAPS. anywho, i only managed to watch bits and pieces of the playthrough as of now so please forgive me for any canon details that i missed. i also would like to note that i do not think our beloved snowy is tired of being a hero, just a little overwhelmed at times, so please don't take this too seriously

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #phainon #phainon x reader

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arabella0001 · 4 months ago

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this took way too much to write

Unspoken chains

Pairing: Aizenx Sosuke x Reader

Anime: Bleach

Synopsis: When Aizen discovers you’re immune to his power, obsession takes root. He’ll stop at nothing to unravel the connection between you-seeing through your resistance, determined to make you his.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: power control, soul bond, God complex, teasing, rough sex, fingering, comfort, oral receiving (female, in part 2)

Your capture is no accident—it’s a move as calculated as it is unsettling. Aizen has been observing you, drawn by the rare and unfathomable force stirring beneath your exterior. There is something about you—something intangible—that calls to him like a forbidden secret waiting to be unearthed.

Ulquiorra, silent and unyielding, carries out the task with chilling precision. He takes you swiftly, his presence as cold and unfeeling as the shadows that consume your world. Your fate, sealed before you even realized it, delivers you directly into Aizen’s hands. His gaze lingers on you, steady and calculating, as if peeling back the layers of your very existence.

Aizen hasn’t laid a hand on you, but the weight of his intentions is impossible to ignore. His voice, calm and deliberate, brims with curiosity, though an unsettling edge lies just beneath. He moves without urgency, every glance and word a deliberate step in a game only he knows how to play.

To him, you are an enigma—your power elusive as a half-forgotten dream. Each moment in his presence tightens the tension, a silent game of wits and will that leaves you teetering on the edge of something you don’t yet understand.

Aizen has yet to lay a hand on you, yet the weight of his intentions hangs heavy in the air. His voice, soft and purposeful, drips with curiosity, but there's something darker behind his words. There is no urgency in his actions, only an unnerving calm.

"Oh Y/N," he says with amused tone, "I must say, I'm quite confused how to feel about the mystery you present," he smiles predatory.

"W-what do you want, Aizen? " your voice trembeling with anger and fear. “I will not stay in this place”

He chuckles softly, his brown eyes gleaming with intrigue as he regard you. A faint smile plays on his lips, belying the dangerous intent behind his gaze.

“What do I want?” Aizen repeated, as if amused by your question. “Isn’t oblivious, Y/N?” he made a pause “To uncover what makes you… different. Call it curiosity if you like, but it’s far more than that. There’s something in you I can’t ignore.” He takes a step closer, his tall frame looming over you.

“Your resistance—your immunity—it’s not something I’ve encountered before, it intrigues me”

Aizen reaches out, gently cupping your chin with his hand, tilting you face up to meet his intense stare and you try to step out. "Consider yourself fortunate - not many get the chance to be the subject of my personal interest. "

You look angry at him even though his gaze makes you intimidated "Fortunate? Are you joking? I rather die. You are fucking psychopath, you kidnap me to be a fucking subject? Do you think people will not come here after me?"

His smile widens slightly at your defiant words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He doesn't seem perturbed by you anger or the harshness of you language.

“You call me a psychopath,” he mused, his gaze sharp but detached. “That’s an easy label for someone you fear, isn’t it? But I assure you, Y/N, I don’t waste my time with meaningless experiments.”

He chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing along you jawline. "As for your friends coming to rescue you, well... let's just say I've taken precautions to ensure we won't be disturbed. "

Aizen leans in closer, his breath ghosting over you ear as he whispers, "No need to wait for them, Y/N. You're mine now, to study and unravel as I see fit. "

"Yours? Are you insane…thats no other way. You repulse me. I’ll end myself before you can do anything."

He pulls back slightly, studying your face with a mixture of fascination and mild disappointment. His grip on you chin tightens ever so slightly.

"End yourself? How delightfully dramatic”

Aizen's free hand comes up to caress you cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "Repulsion? Anger? You’ll find those emotions fleeting in my presence. And as for this idea of being ‘mine,’” he said, leaning slightly closer, his voice soft yet cutting, “it’s not about ownership. It’s about what you represent—a piece of the world I’ve yet to uncover.”

He leans in again, his lips barely brushing against you ear as he murmurs, "Resisting is futile, Y/N. Embrace your new purpose. Serve me willingly, and I promise a great collaboration… "

You try to pull away from his touch, disgusted by his words and the implications behind them. Your heart races with fear and revulsion, but also an unsettling curiosity and drawning despite yourself.

"And do you think i will not fight back? That i will submit to you or your twisted experiments? You dont know me, Aizen. But I’ll tell you, you’re wrong." Your voice trembles with anger.

A slow, appreciative smile spreads across Aizen's face as he observes the fire in your eyes, the trembling of you voice laced with anger and defiance.

He seems utterly unfazed by you threats, instead appearing intrigued and even pleased by you spirited resistance.

"Oh, but I do know you, Y/N. Perhaps better than you know yourself.’’ his gaze intense and unwavering. "I anticipate your resistance. That’s the entire point. It’s that fire, that refusal to bow, that makes you worth my time."

Aizen's hand slides from you chin to cup the back of you neck, his fingers tangling in you hair. He applies just enough pressure to assert his control without causing pain. "You say you won't submit, that you'll fight me every step of the way. And I believe you. Now.”

"I fucking hate you." you grit your teeth, trying to ignore the confusing sensations of his touch, to fight back against his control. But something in his eyes, in the calm certainty of his words, gives you pause because he feels almost…human.

"You speak as if you've already won,’’ You say through clenched teeth, your voice low and strained. ‘’As if your fate is somehow sealed just because you've dragged me here. Well, let me tell you something, Aizen... "

You lean forward, getting right in his face, your own eyes blazing with determination. "I am not some prize to be claimed or experiment to be studied. I am a person, with your own thoughts, your own will. And I swear to you, I will find a way out of this shit place”

Aizen's eyes glitter with amusement and dark approval at your fierce declaration. He doesn't flinch or pull away from you aggressive proximity, instead leaning in even closer until your faces are mere inches apart. His breath ghosts over you skin, cool and measured.

"Such passion, such conviction, he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. It's truly inspiring, Y/N. You speak of your will, your determination to break free... but don't you see? That fire in your eyes, your spirit - it's precisely what drew me to you in the first place, it’s a gift without a doubt."

His thumb bruyous along you jawline, a feather-light caress that belies the intensity of his gaze. "You are no ordinary person, Y/N.”

You jerk your head back from his touch, a shudder running through you at the contact and you feel a chill down you spine, a mix of fear and reluctant shocking leaning. You take a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart and anger inside you.

"You think this is a gift? "You scoff bitterly, your voice shaking slightly. "Being immune to your twisted illusions, to the manipulations of a monster like you? "

You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under his penetrating stare. " I'm just another pawn in your sick game, aren't I? Another piece on your chessboard to be moved and maneuvered as you please. "

A faint smile plays at the corners of Aizen's mouth, equal parts amused and intrigued by your words. He shakes his head slowly, brown locks swaying with the motion.

"Oh, Y/N-chan, " he says softly, almost tenderly, "you give yourself far too little credit. You are so much more than just another pawn."

He reaches out, fingers ghosting along the curve of you shoulder, tracing the line of you arm with a touch that is both comforting and unsettling. "Your immunity, your resilience, the strength of your spirit - these are not the qualities of a mere chess piece almost exceptional, unique."

Aizen's eyes bore into yous, dark and fathomless. "I do not seek to maneuver you, Y/N. I wish just to understand you.’’

You tense as his fingers trail along your skin, every nerve ending seeming to come alive at his touch.You want to recoil, to put distance between you, but find yourself rooted to the spot, caught in the web of his words and presence.

"Understand me? " You laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and grating even to your own ears. "You think you can comprehend someone by subjecting them to endless tests and torments? By keeping them prisoner in this hell? Don’t try ro manipulate me, Aizen, because it won’t work."

You lean in close, your face inches from his, eyes flashing with defiance and barely contained anguish. "I was exceptional like you just said not just because of my immunity, not just because you decide it."

A slow, appreciative smile spreads across Aizen's face as he listens to your impassioned words. He seems to revel in the fire in you eyes, the passion behind you accusations. Leaning in closer, he matches you intense gaze, his voice low and hypnotic.

"My dear, fiery Y/N, he murmurs, his breath ghosting over you lips, "you misunderstand me. I do not seek to comprehend you through control or manipulation alone. Being immune to my powers is just one aspect of the compelling enigma that you embody.”

“No, what draws me to you goes far beyond that singular trait. Its your spirit, the way you cling to your convictions even in the face of adversity. " You feel a shudder run through me at his touch, at he cold calculation in his eyes.

"Spirit? Convictions? " You scoff, but there's a tremor in your voice that betrays your uncertainty. “What would you know of such things, Aizen? You who would reshape the world according to your ideas, crushing anything that doesn't align with your grand vision?”

Despite your words, you find yourself leaning into his touch ever so slightly, your traitorous body craving the comfort of contact, no matter how dangerous its source. "If you truly wanted to understand me, to appreciate who I am, you wouldn't keep me here against my will."

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and enticing despite the circumstances. His other hand comes up to rest on the small of you back, pulling you ever so slightly closer. "Ah, but Y/N-chan, " he purrs, his voice a silken caress, " everything I do serves a greater purpose. Even your... temporary captivity there is but a means to an end."

His eyes gleam with an inner light, ancient and knowing. "The world we live in is broken—chaotic and dictated by the desires of insignificant beings. I aim to change that, to bring order and perfection. And you, with your intriguing complexity, might just be the key to advancing this vision. "

Aizen leans in, his lips nearly brushing the shell of you ear as he whispers, "But perhaps we can come to an arrangement, hmm? " You swallow hard, your heart racing at his proximity, at the dark promise in his words.

You know you should pull away, should reject his offer outright, but some twisted, unknown part of you yearns to hear more of his twisted logic.

"An arrangement? " you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "And what exactly did you have in mind, Aizen? More tests? More... experiments?" Bitterness creeps into your tone. You place your hands on his chest, intending to push him away .

He catches you wrists gently but firmly before you can push him away, holding you hands against his chest. "Now, now, Y/N-chan," he says softly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the inside of you wrists "let's not dwell on past unpleasantness."

Aizen's eyes glitter with intrigue and something darker, more primal. "No, I propose something far more... mutually beneficial. An exchange of knowledge, shall we say. You share with me the secrets of your immunity, the depths of your unique being, and in return..."

He pauses for effect, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "I'll offer you a glimpse beyond the curtain, a hint of the power and purpose that lies ahead in your new world."

His words catch your breath, the tempting promise hanging before you like a forbidden fruit. A buried, unspoken part of you yearns to reach out, to surrender to the pull of his vision, his power. Yet the voice of reason rises sharply.

"And what of your free will in this 'new world order', Aizen? "You challenge, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to maintain composure. You lean in closer, your voice drops to a husky whisper. "If you wanted just that by my will, you wouldn’t kidnap me in the first place."

A slow, wicked smile spreads across Aizen's handsome features as you challenges him, clearly relishing the spark of defiance in your eyes. He leans in closer, erasing the distance between you until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yous.

"Free will, Y/N-chan? " he muses, his warm breath ghosting over you skin", Such a simple, human notion. But tell me... "

One hand lets go of your wrist, gliding slowly, deliberately up your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "...Isn’t the lack of choice just another kind of freedom? A release from the trivial worries and moral dilemmas that weigh down weaker minds?

Aizen's other hand slides down to the small of you back, pressing you flush against him as he murmurs, you gasp softly as he pulls you close, your body molding against his firm contours despite your best efforts to resist.

His words, honeyed poison dripping from his tongue, send conflicting signals through your mind and body but you recoils at the thought of surrendering to him, to become just another pawn in his grand design.

"You're utterly infuriating, Aizen" Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

He chuckles lowly at your annoyance, amused by you feisty spirit even as you finds youself drawn to him physically.

Aizen's hand at the small of you back tightens possessively, holding you captive against his lean, powerful frame. "Irritation is but a step on the path to obsession, your dear Y/N” he purrs, his lips brushing your earlobe.

His free hand comes up to cup you face, thumb stroking along you cheekbone with deceptive gentleness.

"Your body betrays you, even as your mouth protests. Can you not feel the connection between us? The way we were meant to be entwined - in purpose, in pleasure, in power?"

Despide his words, Aizen find himself drawn to a real connection between you two where he quickly adapt, he nips playfully at you earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue, his voice a sinful rasp.

You shudder at the sensation of his lips and tongue on your sensitive skin, a moan escaping your throat before you can bite it back.

You try to pull away again, but his grip on your face holds you still, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. "What connection?"

Despite your words, your body remains pressed against his, craving the heat and hardness you can feel even through your clothes. You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks with desire. "This isn't real. It's all just tricks and illusions."

Aizen's eyes gleam with triumph at your confession, his fingers tightening around you chin as he tilts you head back to expose the slender column of you neck.

"Ah, but what if I told you that some of the most potent magic lies in the realm of the heart, Y/N? " he whispers, his hot breath fanning over you pulse point.

With a flick of his wrist, the fabric of you shirt parts, revealing your upper body. Aizen's palm glides over the smooth skin, tracing the curve of you ribcage as he continues, "These cravings, these desires - they're not mere tricks. They're the raw, primal urges that drive us all, stripped bare of societal constraints."

Leaning in, he nuzzles the hollow of you throat, his lips grazing the sensitive flesh. You whimper as his lips brush your skin, your resolve crumbling beneath the onslaught of his touch. Your body arches instinctively, seeking more contact.

But even as you succumb, a part of you resists, clinging to the last shreds of your independence. "No...this isn't right. " you manage to gasp out, your voice strained with desire and anger. "You're just fucking using me"

Aizen chuckles, low and rich, as he trails open-mouthed kisses along the side of you neck. "Using you? Perhaps, in the beginning, I did manipulate events to bring us together, Y/N. But now, I find yourself drawn to you in ways that transcend mere strategy. "

His hands slide down to cup you hips, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against you belly. “You see, your unique properties have sparked something within me - a hunger, a fascination, a deep, primal need. "

Aizen's fingers dig into the supple flesh of you behind as he grinds his hips against yous, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your joined bodies. " So, tell me, my dear Y/N... do you truly believe you can resist the allure of a god when his gaze is fixed upon you?”

Your legs tremble, threatening to buckle as he grinds against you, the pressure building an inferno between your thighs, almost making you surrender, to submit to the dark desires he awakens within you.

"Aizen, stop.... " You hiss, your nails digging into his shoulders asyou struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

"You may have manipulated our meeting only, but i don’t believe you" you look at him with your mouth slightly open, panting heavy.

Aizen's grip tightens, holding you firmly in place as he silences you protests with a searing kiss. His tongue delves deep, claiming your mouth with ruthless dominance, swallowing your words whole.

Breaking the kiss, he gazes into you eyes, his own burning with an intensity that makes you knees weak. "You don't believe, Y/N? Then let me show you the depths of your conviction. "

With a swift motion, he rips away the remaining fabric of you clothing, leaving you naked and exposed before him. Aizen's eyes roam hungrily over you curves, drinking in every inch of you bared skin. You feel so exposed, but you freeze, his eyes makes you tremble with need.

He reaches down, teasing your thights making you moan, his fingers slowly, teasingly, finding the slick heat between you thighs. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he feels how wet you is, how ready for him.

"Your body tells a different story, Y/N-chan.”

You cry out, your head falling back as his fingers stroke through your dripping folds, the sudden intimacy overwhelming. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction.

But even as pleasure coils tighter within you, a thread of resistance remains, a stubborn refusal to admit. "Its not—‘’ struggling to speak.

Aizen's thumb presses against you clit, circling the sensitive nub in a maddening rhythm that has you panting and squirming beneath him. "Not what, Y/N-chan? "

He leans in, his breath hot against you ear as he whispers, "Is it not desire? This ache between your legs, this yearning for your touch? You can deny it all you like, but your body betrays you."

Aisen's fingers delve deeper, pumping in and out of you slick channel in a steady, driving pace. "Let go, Y/N. Surrender to the pleasure. "

His other hand slides up you torso, palming a breast and tweaking the nipple between his fingers. "You're so close already, aren't you?... "

You moan, your voice a desperate whimper as his fingers work magic inside you, stroking that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. "N-no... I won't... "

But the words dissolve into a gasp as his thumb finds that sweet spot again, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your walls clench around his invading digits, trying to hold onto him, to keep him buried deep.

When his palm closes around your breast, you arch into the touch, your back bowing off the ground as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

The dual assault of sensations threatens to shatter your resolve, to reduce you to a puddle of quivering need.

"I c-can't..." you manage to choke out, your hips rocking frantically against his hand as you chase the crest of climax.

Aizen's smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he feels you body start to tremble on the brink of orgasm. "Oh, but you can, Y/N. You will. "

He redoubles his efforts, his fingers pistoning in and out of you at a relentless pace while his thumb works overtime on you clit. The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it's almost unbearable.

Just when you's teetering on the edge, Aizen slows his movements, dragging out the anticipation until you's writhing in frustration. "Don't fight it, Y/N"

As soon as the words leave his lips, he plunges his fingers deep and curls them just right, striking that magical spot inside you that sends you careening over the edge.

Your scream rips from your throat as the climax crash over me, waves of intense pleasure washing through every cell of your being. You convulse beneath him, your vision blurring at the edges as your body is wracked with the force of it.

Through the haze of bliss, you dimly register Aizen's voice, urging me to let go, to surrender. And as he strokes that perfect spot inside me once more,you feel yourself plummeting into the abyss, unable to resist the tidal wave of sensation.

Aizen watches intently as your body shakes and convulses through you climax, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. When you finally collapses back onto the ground, panting and spent, he withdraws his fingers from you dripping sex with a soft pop.

He brings his slickened digits to his mouth, licking them clean with a relish that makes your stomach twist with a mix of revulsion and unwanted desire.

"Mmm. Your taste is exquisite, Y/N. "

Aizen leans down, his warm breath fanning over you ear as he whispers, "Now, aren't you glad you came to me? I've only just begun to unravel the secrets of your immunity."His hand trails down you side, coming to rest on you hip possessively.

As you lay down, trembling and gasping for air, your body still humming with residual pleasure. Aizen's words send a chill down your spine, despite the heat coursing through your veins.

The way he looks at you, like you are some exotic delicacy he's eager to devour, makes your skin crawl. Gods help you, but you find yourself wanting more of his touch after the orgasm he gave you, your connection palpable.

"S-shut up"

Aizen chuckles low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, don't be like that, Y/!. I merely stated the obvious. Your body responds so beautifully to mine " He shifts position, straddling you hips and pinning you to the ground with his weight.

Leaning in close, he murmurs against you lips, "Admit it, you crave the pleasure I give you. The way I can make you lose yourself with just a touch... "

Aizen's other hand cups you breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak as he coaxes another moan from you throat. "You're addicted to it, aren't you Y/N ?To the feeling of being completely consumed by me?"

His lips ghost across you, not quite a kiss, but enough to leave you breathless and yearning for more.

You whimper, your body arching into his touch despite your mind screaming at you to resist again. The sensation of his lips so close to your again, the warmth of his breath mingling with your own, is almost too much to bear.

"You are insane ..."your voice is barely above a whisper, laced with denial and desperation, beneath your protests, you can feel yourself growing wet again as your core clenching in anticipation of what he might do next.

The rational part of your brain knows this is wrong, that you should fight him off, but your body seems to have a mind of its own, drawn to the dark allure of him .

"If I’m addicted, you are too ..." you manage to gasp out accusatory, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders, holding him close even as you try to push him away, sensing our strong connection.

Aizen's smile widens, a glint of triumph in his eyes as he hears your admission. "No, Y/N. I am simply aware of your desires and unafraid to indulge them. "

He captures you lips in a searing kiss, deep and possessive, his tongue delving into you mouth to claim every inch. As they break apart, panting, he whispers, " And yes, I am addicted... to you. Your taste, your scent, the way you respond to me like no one else ever has."

Aizen's fingers trail down you side, slipping beneath the hem of you shirt to caress the warm skin of you belly. "You're so responsive, so receptive to your touch. It's intoxicating. I could spend eternity exploring every curve and crevice of your body."

Your head spins from the force of his kiss, your lips throbbing where his mouth devoured yours. You are drowning in the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his words seeping into your very soul.

"Why this have to be you…" you whisper, slight anger in your shaken voice.

Aizen tilts his head, a thoughtful smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Why, Y/N-chan? Maybe it's because we are reflections of one another, drawn together by forces greater than either of us. Two contrasting elements, yet somehow bound in perfect harmony."

He steps closer, his gaze darkening. "Or perhaps it’s because we both seek power, in our own ways. You try to fight me, but deep down, your body knows its place. You can resist all you want, but there’s a part of you that yearns for what I offer—control, surrender, a pleasure that only I can awaken within you."

Aizen leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Face it, Y/N. You were made for me. Every cell in your body sings when I touch you, when I claim you as mine, as my possesion."

You moan softly, unable to suppress the reaction as his hand kneads your breast, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Your resolve crumbles further, torn between the desire to submit to him completely and the desperate need to maintain some semblance of control.

"N-no... That's not true..." You protest weakly, even as your hips press against his thigh, seeking more friction, more contact. You know you should be horrified, fighting against this twisted attraction, but instead, you find yourself leaning into him, craving the sensation of his skin on you, craving you.

Aizen chuckles low in his throat, a sound rich with satisfaction. "Oh, but it is true, Y/N. You can deny it all you like, but your body tells a different story.”

He shifts, pressing himself against you, letting you feel the hard length of his arousal. "See how much your touch affects me? How much I want you? It's only natural, given our connection."

Aizen's hands roam you body, mapping every curve, every dip and swell. His fingers dance along you spine before slipping beneath you hair to grip the nape of you neck. "Surrender to me, Y/N. We both know its inevitable, become mine, completely and utterly."

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel his hardness pressed against you, the evidence of his desire fueling your own growing need. Your hands fist in his shirt, tugging him closer, craving more of his touch, despite your mind hating him, repulsing by him.

"Oh my-..." you breathe, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart as you arch into his caress, a gasp escaping you as his fingers tease the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

Aizen's eyes gleam with triumph as he feels you surrender, you body yielding to his touch despite you protests. He tightens his grip on you neck, just enough to assert his dominance, to remind you of who holds the power you.

"That's it, Y/N. Give in to the pleasure. Let me show you the heights of ecstasy only I can reach. " His mouth descends upon yous in a burning kiss again, claiming you lips with a possessive hunger. His tongue delves deep, exploring every inch of you mouth, tasting you sweetness and savoring you submission.

Meanwhile, his hands continue their exploration, sliding down you back to grasp you ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. He lifts you easily, encouraging you legs to wrap around his waist as he walks them backward toward the nearby bed.

Your mind reels from the intensity of his kiss, overwhelmed by the force of his passion. You melt into him, your body pliant and eager, craving more of his touch, more of his taste despide your anger at him, your repulsive attitude towards him and what he represents.

When he lifts you, you instinctively wrap your legs around him, holding on tight as he carries you to the bed. As soon as you fall onto the mattress, he is between your legs and you look at him intense, feeling the deepest of your connection, your mind spiraling with want.

Aizen is panting heavily as he gazes down at you sprawled beneath him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, you chest heaving with each breath, you looks utterly ravished, ready to be devoured.

"You’re even more breathtaking when you submit to me completely. "With a deft motion, he shed his clothes, revealing his chiseled physique, honed from centuries of power and control. Then, he leans down to capture your lips once more, his hands roaming you body as he positions himself at you entrance.

Slowly, deliberately, he push inside you, relishing the feeling of you tight heat enveloping him. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation, before beginning to move, thrusting deep and steady. "Ah, yes... "

You moan into the kiss as he enters you, your walls clenching around his thick length. The sensation is overwhelming, both pleasurable and painful as he stretches you open. You cry out softly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he begins to move.

"Aizen….." Aizen groans low in his throat as your walls grip him tightly, you cries of pleasure music to his ears. He sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

"That's it, Y/N... let go. Surrender to the pleasure I give you. "

He captures you wrists, pinning them above you head as he hammers into you, his hips slapping against you with each powerful stroke. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, mingling with both of your ragged breathing and muffled moans.

"You were made for me, Y/N. Your body, your soul... they belong to me now.”

Your lost in a haze of pleasure, your body arching off the bed as he takes you with unrelenting intensity.

Each thrust sends shockwaves through you "Aizen! Oh God, Aizen... you feel so good" you tremble so hard for the pleasure, your connection so strong it shocks your being about how you feel around him.

As your cries reach a fever pitch, Aizen's fingers find you sensitive nub, rubbing and circling it in time with his relentless thrusts. He can feel you trembling on the brink of climax, and he knows just what you needs to push you over the edge.

"Yes, that's it... say my name and reveal the depths of your desire."

His words are a husky whisper against you ear, his hot breath sending shivers down you spine. With a final, deep plunge, he presses firmly against you clit, sending you more and more into ecstasy.

You throw your head back, a loud wail tearing from your throat as the intense pressure finally releases inside me. Your whole body seizes up, convulsing wildly as waves of pleasure crash over me

"AA-Aizen!!! " your pussy clenches rhythmically around himas you ride out the aftershocks. Tears stream down your face from the overwhelming sensations, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him desperately .

Aizen watches your face contort in rapture, you screams of ecstasy music to his ears. He savors the feeling of you clenching around him, milking his length as you ride out you orgasm.

"Beautiful, Y/N... so beautiful when you surrender to me. "Still buried deep within you quivering heat, he begins to move again, slowly at first, then picking up sped. He can feel his climax building.

"Give yourself to me completely, Y/N. Let me fill you with my seed, mark you as mine forever."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his own release exploding through him in torrents. He holds you close as you both shudder and gasp, riding out the aftershocks of your shared climax.

You feel limp and spent, your body still twitching with the lingering effects of your intense orgasm. As Aizen's warm seed floods your womb,you can't help but whimper softly, overwhelmed by the sensation.

You look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, a mix of post-coital bliss and something darker, more complex swirling in both of your depths. Your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with emotion.

"What have i done? " A single tear rolls down your cheek as the gravity of our situation sinks in, you feel so ashmed, vulnerable and angry at yourself.

Aizen's expression remains calm and collected, but there's a flicker of sadness in his eyes at your emotional reaction. He hadn't expected you to feel such vulnerability after their intimate encounter.

"Ah, Y/N, don't be ashamed. What we share is natural, a union of two powerful beings. " He strokes you hair soothingly, his touch gentle despite the intensity of your previous activities.

"Your immunity to your power is a mystery, but perhaps it's because our souls resonate on a deeper level. It's not uncommon for certain individuals to be drawn to each other, regardless of the circumstances. "

Aizen pulls back slightly, gazing at Y/N with an unreadable expression. There's a hint of curiosity in his voice as he continues.

"Tell me…how do you feel about what just transpired between us? "

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and shame as you avoid Aizen's gaze, unable to meet his piercing brown eyes. You are too anger to yourself for letting you enjoy this.

"I...I don't fucking understand it. How can I be so affected by you, yet remain immune to your powers? It's confusing... " you swallow hard, trying to find the right words to express the turmoil inside you.

Your voice trembles slightly as you continue. "And what we just did...it felt wrong, yet so right at the same time. "

Aizen listens intently to Y/N's words, a thoughtful expression on his face. He reaches out to gently tilt you chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Wrong yet right, you say? That's an intriguing dichotomy, Y/N-chan. Perhaps it's because our connection goes beyond mere physical attraction or the manipulation of spiritual energies. "His thumb caresses you lower lip with an intense yet possessive gaze, his touch sending a shiver down you spine.

" It’s possible that our souls share a connection that runs deeper, one that surpasses the limits of our roles and purposes. After all, I’ve never felt such a profound bond with anyone else.”

Your breath hitches as Aizen's thumb traces your lower lip, the sensation sending sparks through your body. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception or ulterior motives, but all you see is genuine interest and fascination.

"How did you know? That you might have this connection to me? "Despite the danger and uncertainty surrounding Aizen, I find yourself drawn to him, craving to understand the enigma that is Sosuke Aizen. Aizen's smile widens, revealing a glimmer of pride and satisfaction."

”It’s quite simple really. I am Sosuke Aizen, the former captain of the Gotei 13 and the mastermind behind the Hollowfication project. Your intellect and strategic prowess allow me to perceive patterns and connections that other miss. "He leans in closer, his warm breath ghosting across you ear as he whispers.

"From the moment I laid eyes on you, I sensed something extraordinary about you. Your resilience in the face of adversity, your unyielding spirit... these qualities resonated deeply within me. "

Aizen pulls back slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. "But it wasn't until our initial confrontation that I realized the full extent of our connection. "

"So even the great Aizen, the former captain and mastermind, didnt realize exactly the full extent of our connection…" You let out a teasing laugh, almost incredulous. You can't believe you're even here with him, and yet, you're joking around with him.

Aizen chuckles, clearly amused by Y/N's teasing remark. He strokes you cheek affectionately, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"Indeed, Y/N. Even someone as perceptive as yourself can be surprised by the complexities of fate and the human heart. But now that I've acknowledged the depth of our bond, I intend to explore every facet of it. "

His fingers trail down you neck, sending tingles through you skin.

"Tell me, what do you think of our connection? How does it make you feel, being so intimately bound to someone like me?"

"How about we just stay quiet for a moment?" You rest your head against his chest, allowing yourself to relax in his presence.

Even though you still can't fully accept the connection between you two, there's an undeniable comfort in being near him."You are still infuriating just so you know…" you murmur, feeling sleepy.

Aizen's chest rumbles with a low, contented laugh as you nestles against him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

"I'm glad to hear that, my dear Y/N. It means you still retain some of your fiery spirit, despite the circumstances." He gently strokes you hair, savoring the warmth of you body pressed against his, your submission to him.

"Rest now, your dear. We can continue our discussion later when you're more refreyoud. For now, simply enjoy the comfort of your embrace. "Aizen's voice is soothing, lulling you into a state of relaxation as you drifts off to sleep.

"Aizen…sleep with me this time please " you ask anxiously while Aizen's expression softens, a rare display of vulnerability beneath his usual composed exterior.

"Very well. If it brings you solace, then I shall join you in slumber. " With a gentle caress, he guides you to lie down on the soft ground, then settles beside you, pulling you close once more.

"Let us rest together, your dear. May our dreams be filled with pleasant visions and our hearts remain entwined, even in the realm of unconsciousness. "

Aizen closes his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the allure of sleep, his arm wrapped protectively and possessive around you as you both drift off, almost seeking refuge in each other’s embrace.

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dixons-sunshine · 5 months ago

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Big Sister | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With your second child on the way, you and Daryl are tasked with breaking the news to your daughter. Thankfully, your daughter was more than ecstatic at the prospect of a little sibling.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post bridge explosion.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: Requested by @banshees-martin. I literally have no good reason why it took me so long to write this request. I’m so sorry for the long wait! I hope this is somewhat okay to make up for it.

Parenthood in general was not always a walk in the park. Parenthood in the apocalypse especially definitely was no leisure stroll. Raising a child before the end of the world came with its own set of challenges, but the challenges only multiplied due to the harsh world you were now forced to live in.

However, despite everything, you never, not even once, regretted embarking on the beautiful journey that is motherhood. You never regretted starting a family with Daryl. And you certainly did not regret your daughter. She was your pride and joy. She was the reason why you felt confident enough to bring up wanting another child to your husband, and why you were currently carrying your second bundle of joy in your stomach.

However, you had yet to tell Hazel about becoming an older sister in the near future, trying to think of how to approach the subject. Thankfully, Hazel—ever the curious little girl that she is—noticed your little baby bump when she clambered onto your lap a few moments prior, and she was the one to bring it up.

“Mama, why’s your belly getting so big?”

You could not help but laugh at your daughter’s innocent question. Daryl, who was seated next to you on the couch, let out a small chuckle as well, his ocean-coloured irises locking with your eyes. Should we tell her? he asked you without even needing to speak. You could read the archer like the back of your hand. Many years together provided you with that ability, an ability that very few people could say they had regarding the usually unreadable Daryl Dixon.

You nodded at him and turned back to Hazel. “You sure you wanna know? This is big girl stuff,” you began in a teasing tone, your eyes widening slightly to dramatize the situation.

Hazel nodded eagerly and pushed herself to sit upright in your lap. “I’m a big girl!”

“I don’ know,” Daryl chipped in, copying the playfulness you used earlier. “She’s only three, after all. Seems like she’s still a lil’ girl.”

Hazel gasped and shook her head, as if deeply offended by what her dad had ‘accused’ her of being. “No, I’m a big girl!” She reached forward and cupped your cheeks in her small hands, urging you to look at her. “Tell Daddy, Mama. I’m a big girl.”

“She makes a pretty convincing argument, Dar,” you ‘reluctantly’ agreed, trying to contain your laughter at your daugher’s exasperated expression, one that practically screamed at you to tell her the big secret she so desperately wanted to be a part of.

Daryl scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, a small, albeit nervous smile on his face. He did not know how Hazel would react to the news that she was going to have a little sibling, but despite whatever reaction she was going to give, there was no changing the outcome. There would be a second baby regardless of how she felt about it, although it would be a relief if she was as ecstatic over the baby as the two of you were.

You carefully transferred Hazel from your lap and onto Daryl’s. With the small weight now off of your—well, technically Daryl’s—shirt, your hands carefully began tugging the fabric up, revealing the small but noticable bump there. Hazel looked at it in wonder.

“You wanna know what’s in there?” When Hazel nodded, you continued. “Your baby brother or sister.”

“A baby sissy or bubby?” Hazel asked in surprise, her eyes widening as she looked up at you. “I’m a big sissy?”

You laughed lightly and nodded. “Yes, babygirl. You’re gonna be a big sister.”

“Like Jude is to RJ?” she asked again, this time turning to Daryl for an answer.

Daryl confirmed her question with a nod of his head. “Yes, Hazelnut. Just like Jude s’to RJ.”

Hazel giggled and leaned forward to touch your belly with her small hands. Daryl steadied her to ensure she did not fall, although he could not help but chuckle fondly at her eagerness to inspect your stomach in the hopes of finding out what fluttered beyond the skin of your slowly growing stomach.

Hazel frowned adorably after a few moments of running her little hands over your abdomen. “How does baby fit?”

You smiled at her question. However, before you could even attempt an explanation, Daryl cut in. “All the mommies that have babies are superheroes. When they have a baby, their bellies get the powers needed so that the baby can fit. They keep the babies safe in their bellies while the babies grow nice ‘n strong, and when they’re ready to come out, the mommies help ‘em.”

“Is that what happened with me?” Hazel asked in wonder, her eyes sparkling up at her dad.

Daryl nodded. “Exactly what happened with you. Your mama’s amazin’, huh?”

Hazel giggled. “Mama’s a superhero!” She turned back to you with a chubby, dimpled smile. “When can I see the baby?”

“Soon, Sweetheart. They still need to grow a bit bigger and stronger though, okay?”

“Can I talk to the baby?”

“Of course you can,” you replied, leaning back slightly so that Hazel could have better access to get closer to your baby bump.

Hazel hastily leaned forward and pressed her cheek against your bump, and instantly began talking away. “Hi little baby! I’m your big sissy! Mama said you still need to grow big and strong. I hope that’s soon. I can’t wait to meet you!”

Your heart practically melted at the little interaction between your first baby and your second one in your stomach. You just knew Hazel would be the best big sister ever. She had so much love in her tiny body and she loved sharing it with the world. She was an amazing little human being.

You looked up from your daughter and locked eyes with Daryl. The archer had a small, soft smile on his face, and you could not help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when you noticed the look of pure, unadulterated love on his face. It was the moments like these that made all the challenges that came with parenting worthwhile. Amidst all the chaos in the world run by the undead, these small, precious moments with your family was what you lived for, and you would never stop fighting for it.

You got pulled from your thoughts by Hazel sitting back up. She turned to Daryl, and the question that left her mouth had you doubling over with laughter.

“Daddy, how’d the baby get in there?”

Daryl’s eyes widened at that. He looked towards you, then back at Hazel, before looking back at you again. His eyes were begging for you to intervene, but you shook your head as if to say “you’re on your own”.

Daryl cleared his throat. “Well, uh… Um, y’know how when you wanna plant somethin’, and ya gotta… Uh…” Daryl shook his head and stood up from the couch, picking Hazel up as well. “Y’know what I think? I think s’time we get you to bed. You’re gonna need all the rest ya can get before the baby gets here. They’re gon’ wanna play with their big sissy all the time.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hazel nodded and rested her head on Daryl’s shoulder, thankfully dropping the uncomfortable subject. You sent him a mischievous smile, and he simply rolled his eyes, before beckoning you over.

“C’mon, Mama. S’time for a bedtime story.”

Smiling to yourself, you got up from the couch, adjusted your shirt, and followed your husband up the stairs. In that moment, you felt like the luckiest person alive, and it was all because of your little family.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (Let me know if you want to be added/removed).

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto's commandments

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catssluvr · 9 days ago

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒏, spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader (923 words)

in which you and spencer talk outside the bar on a night out with the bau

warnings: none :)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You stand outside the noisy bar, the nice music coming from inside and the breeze of fresh air brushing your cheek being enough to bring ease to you.

It would be a lie to say you´re a fan of this type of going out, but it is nice to spend some time with the team outside of work and you're more than happy to sit quietly and sip on your soda while they do shots.

But tonight the building feels louder than usual, too loud. Not really enough to make you feel anxious, but definitely enough to make you crave the fresh night air, away from all the sweaty bodies.

You see Spencer approaching you from the corner of your eyes, an awkward smile plastered on his lips. Warmth spreads across your chest, leaving you unable to stop the smile from appearing on your face too.

"Hey, can i join you?" He asks, sitting next to you as soon as you nod in agreement, "Here, i got this for you." He hands you the soda in his hand.

"Thank you." You reply quietly, hand grazing his for a moment longer than it should. You scan the paper cup that he's now holding between his hands, a frown etching your face once you realise what's on the inside.

"Spence, why are you drinking coffee at eleven pm?" You question with raised eyebrows.

"Oh- uhm- i just thought that since i'm usually in bed by this time and i want to drive you home i should make sure i'm very awake. You know, just to make sure." Spencer rambles, cheeks pink and head cast down in a way that makes you sure that he wasn't expecting you to notice.

“You really don’t have to do that for me, Spence.” Though your smile is really just grateful.

“I do.” He answers as if it’s the most obvious thing.

You're both silent for a moment, the same familiar and comfortable silence that you're sure he enjoys just as much as you. You can't help but subtly look to admire his enviable jaw, his nose the nicest shade of pink from the cold.

"Wait, you're actually freezing." You're too concentrated on the task at hand to notice he's reached to hold your hand in his, pulling away too quickly to start taking off his sweater. "Here, you should've told me."

"I don't want it- i mean i do, but you'll get cold too." It's hard to try and be calm when he's so close and the temptation to reach for the sweater that you know is very comfortable is very big.

"'Course not, my coffee will warm me up. Your soda is cold so you don't have that." It's a quite made on the spot excuse but it's also enough to convince you just a little bit.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, S." Playing hard is fun when you get to see him flustered over the simplest thing.

"Just take it." Spencer practically shoves it in your arms, "Please?" And god, the baby doe eyes.

A huff escapes your mouth, a defeated one that makes his smile widen, mouthing a small 'thank you' to you. As if he's not the one doing something for you.

Spencer steps in front of you, helping you into the sweater without having to be asked to. You fight the urge to tell him he doesn't have to baby you as he untucks your hair, pulling it behind your ears before unfortunately siting back down.

He clears his throat, "I was thinking, do you want to spend the night at mine?" He continues before you get to answer, "I won't be able to sleep too soon, anyway. We could watch a movie- if you'd like, of course."

"Can we watch Juno?"

"Rewatch, you mean? And no, not happening." He teases.

"Oh, come on. You chose last time." You feign sadness, forcing a pout onto your lips and turning away to persuade him into having it your way

"Don't do that- we can rewatch it, i promise." He thinks before saying, "But you can't cry when Paulie visits Juno at the hospital again, okay? I really don't have any comforting methods left." Even though he knows he'd go to the ends of the world to find a way.

"And we can get a blueberry slushie on the way to your house?" Okay, maybe you really don't mind getting babied by him. It does feel selfish, Spencer isn't really your boyfriend. You're not sure what he is, neither of you are, but you can't exactly just call him your best friend either.

"And we can get a blueberry slushie on the way." He confirms, nudging your shoulder before pulling you closer to him and giving you the perfect excuse to rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You're very nice to me, S." You all but whisper.

"You're very easy to be nice to." Spencer replies, again like it's the most obvious thing. His lips ghost over your forehead, stopping at your temple to press a tentative kiss there.

"I'm gonna tell the other we'll get going, yes?" He says gently after a moment.

"Course." You smile, slightly hazy with a pounding heart.

It takes him a moment more than it should to let go of you, pretending to adjust his sweater that's now on you so that you're 'extra warm' before squeezing your shoulder and going into the bar in a hurry.

You nuzzle against the fabric of his sweater, the comforting sent making you forget all about the cold weather. And you definitely don't regret not bringing your coat outside.

When Spencer comes back with your bag and coat, he definitely doesn't make a fuss to get his sweater back either.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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reasonsforhope · 6 months ago

Text

"As a Deaf man, Adam Munder has long been advocating for communication rights in a world that chiefly caters to hearing people.

The Intel software engineer and his wife — who is also Deaf — are often unable to use American Sign Language in daily interactions, instead defaulting to texting on a smartphone or passing a pen and paper back and forth with service workers, teachers, and lawyers.

It can make simple tasks, like ordering coffee, more complicated than it should be.

But there are life events that hold greater weight than a cup of coffee.

Recently, Munder and his wife took their daughter in for a doctor’s appointment — and no interpreter was available.

To their surprise, their doctor said: “It’s alright, we’ll just have your daughter interpret for you!” ...

That day at the doctor’s office came at the heels of a thousand frustrating interactions and miscommunications — and Munder is not isolated in his experience.

“Where I live in Arizona, there are more than 1.1 million individuals with a hearing loss,” Munder said, “and only about 400 licensed interpreters.”

In addition to being hard to find, interpreters are expensive. And texting and writing aren’t always practical options — they leave out the emotion, detail, and nuance of a spoken conversation.

ASL is a rich, complex language with its own grammar and culture; a subtle change in speed, direction, facial expression, or gesture can completely change the meaning and tone of a sign.

“Writing back and forth on paper and pen or using a smartphone to text is not equivalent to American Sign Language,” Munder emphasized. “The details and nuance that make us human are lost in both our personal and business conversations.”

His solution? An AI-powered platform called Omnibridge.

“My team has established this bridge between the Deaf world and the hearing world, bringing these worlds together without forcing one to adapt to the other,” Munder said.

Trained on thousands of signs, Omnibridge is engineered to transcribe spoken English and interpret sign language on screen in seconds...

“Our dream is that the technology will be available to everyone, everywhere,” Munder said. “I feel like three to four years from now, we're going to have an app on a phone. Our team has already started working on a cloud-based product, and we're hoping that will be an easy switch from cloud to mobile to an app.” ...

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence. "

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024. More info below the cut!

To test an alpha version of his invention, Munder welcomed TED associate Hasiba Haq on stage.

“I want to show you how this could have changed my interaction at the doctor appointment, had this been available,” Munder said.

He went on to explain that the software would generate a bi-directional conversation, in which Munder’s signs would appear as blue text and spoken word would appear in gray.

At first, there was a brief hiccup on the TED stage. Haq, who was standing in as the doctor’s office receptionist, spoke — but the screen remained blank.

“I don’t believe this; this is the first time that AI has ever failed,” Munder joked, getting a big laugh from the crowd. “Thanks for your patience.”

After a quick reboot, they rolled with the punches and tried again.

Haq asked: “Hi, how’s it going?”

Her words popped up in blue.

Munder signed in reply: “I am good.”

His response popped up in gray.

Back and forth, they recreated the scene from the doctor’s office. But this time Munder retained his autonomy, and no one suggested a 7-year-old should play interpreter.

Munder’s TED debut and tech demonstration didn’t happen overnight — the engineer has been working on Omnibridge for over a decade.

“It takes a lot to build something like this,” Munder told Good Good Good in an exclusive interview, communicating with our team in ASL. “It couldn't just be one or two people. It takes a large team, a lot of resources, millions and millions of dollars to work on a project like this.”

After five years of pitching and research, Intel handpicked Munder’s team for a specialty training program. It was through that backing that Omnibridge began to truly take shape...

In order to achieve that dream — of transposing their technology to a smartphone — Munder and his team have to play a bit of a waiting game. Today, their platform necessitates building the technology on a PC, with an AI engine.

“A lot of things don't have those AI PC types of chips,” Munder explained. “But as the technology evolves, we expect that smartphones will start to include AI engines. They'll start to include the capability in processing within smartphones. It will take time for the technology to catch up to it, and it probably won't need the power that we're requiring right now on a PC.”

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence.

But it is more than a transcription service — it allows people to have face-to-face conversations with each other. There’s a world of difference between passing around a phone or pen and paper and looking someone in the eyes when you speak to them.

It also allows Deaf people to speak ASL directly, without doing the mental gymnastics of translating their words into English.

“For me, English is my second language,” Munder told Good Good Good. “So when I write in English, I have to think: How am I going to adjust the words? How am I going to write it just right so somebody can understand me? It takes me some time and effort, and it's hard for me to express myself actually in doing that. This technology allows someone to be able to express themselves in their native language.”

Ultimately, Munder said that Omnibridge is about “bringing humanity back” to these conversations.

“We’re changing the world through the power of AI, not just revolutionizing technology, but enhancing that human connection,” Munder said at the end of his TED Talk.

“It’s two languages,” he concluded, “signed and spoken, in one seamless conversation.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024

#ai #pro ai #deaf #asl #disability #translation #disabled #hard of hearing #hearing impairment #sign language #american sign language #languages #tech news #language #communication #good news #hope #machine learning

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 3 months ago

Text

An Angel - Part 2

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Female Medic

Warnings: Injury, shouting, emotional tension, fear, protective behavior, slow-burn romance, soft moments.

Author’s Note: The boys love hard, and that love sometimes comes out as frustration when fear grips them. But love always wins in the end. I’m not crying you are-

Masterlist | Part 1

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

She didn’t belong here.

That’s what the whispers said. The wary glances. The tension whenever she passed by soldiers who only saw her as the enemy turned ally.

And maybe, once, she would have believed them.

But now?

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Not when Soap slung an arm around her shoulders, his presence a shield against the murmurs. “Ignore them, lass. They don’t know a damn thing about you.”

Not when Gaz always sat beside her in the mess hall, his knee brushing hers in silent reassurance.

Not when Price made sure her gear was just as well-maintained as theirs, his gruff voice always reminding her, “You’re part of this team. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

Not when Ghost—silent, brooding Ghost— always seemed to be there, lingering in doorways, walking a step behind her, his watchful gaze never straying too far.

She wasn’t alone.

She was theirs.

And they were hers.

They were in this together.

---

It started small.

Soap always lingered. An arm resting on her waist a second too long, fingers brushing against her own when passing a cup of tea, a cocky grin whenever she called him out on it. “What? You like it, don’t lie.”

Gaz had a way of seeking her out when the world got too loud.“Come on,” he’d say, leading her to the quiet of the rooftop, sitting beside her with their shoulders pressed together, the stars above them. “You need a break too, yeah angel?”

Price watched over her.Not just as a soldier under his command, but as something more.A steady hand on her lower back when they walked through camp, a firm squeeze on her shoulder when doubt crept in. “We take care of our own.”

And Ghost—God, Ghost—Ghost never let her go unnoticed.

He wasn’t loud like the others. His touches weren’t as obvious. But his presence was constant. A gloved hand at the small of her back when crowds pressed too close. A steadying grip on her wrist when exhaustion threatened to take her down. A quiet, gruff “Rest. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t luv.”

He never let her forget—he saw her.

And she never wanted to forget that either.

——

She wasn’t supposed to be in the field.

But when the mission turned sideways, when Soap was bleeding and Ghost was roaring for cover, she ran.

She slid beside Soap, hands pressing hard against the wound in his shoulder.

His face twisted, breath hitching. “Y’always comin’ to my rescue, huh, lass?”

She forced a smirk, but her hands shook.“Someone’s gotta keep you idiots alive.”

Gunfire roared. Gaz’s voice cracked in her earpiece. “We need an exit—now.”

She didn’t let go of Soap.

Not when Ghost and Price cleared the way.

Not when Gaz hauled her to her feet.

Not when the chopper finally lifted them out of hell.

She didn’t let go.

And neither did they.

---

The moment they were back on base, it started.

“What the hell were you bloody thinking?!”

She barely had time to catch her breath before Ghost’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His mask was off, his expression carved from fury and something deeper—something closer to fear.

Price was pacing, jaw clenched. “You were supposed to stay back. That was the plan.”

Her stomach twisted. “I wasn’t going to let Soap die.”

Gaz hovered near Soap’s cot, silent, eyes flicking between them. Soap, still wrapped in fresh bandages, shifted uncomfortably but didn’t speak.

Ghost took a step closer, towering over her. “You’re not a soldier.”

She squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “You’re right, I’m not but that doesn’t mean I don’t fight for the people I care about.”

Ghost’s eyes burned. “You could have been killed.”

“So could all of you!” she snapped. “But I don’t see you yelling at each other for risking your lives.”

“That’s different.” Price’s voice was rough, strained.

“How?”

Silence.

She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. “I saved him. That’s all that matters.”

Ghost’s fists curled at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Her pulse pounded. “Get what?”

Price exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not just about the mission.” His voice lowered, rough with something too raw to name. “It’s about you.”

Her breath caught.

Ghost turned away, running a hand through his hair. Price shook his head, muttering under his breath before following him out.

The door slammed.

Silence settled like a heavy weight in the room.

She swallowed hard, turning to Soap and Gaz, who had stayed quiet through the whole thing.

Soap sighed, giving her a half-hearted grin. “They’re just scared, lass.”

Gaz nodded, voice softer. “They don’t know how to handle almost losing you.”

Her chest ached.

It had never been about doubt. It had been about fear.

---

Later that night, a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it—

And found them.

Price. Ghost.

Both looking… worn.

Price sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were out of line.”

Ghost’s voice was quieter than before. “We shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

She crossed her arms, still feeling the sting of their words. “You think I should’ve let Soap bleed out?”

Ghost flinched. Price shook his head. “No. Never.” He met her gaze, voice softer. “But you’re not just some medic to us.”

Ghost swallowed. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Her breath hitched.

Ghost? Scared?

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, but there was something fragile in them.

Price exhaled. “You mean more to this team than just your skills, love.”

Ghost nodded. “More than you realize.”

Her chest ached.

She reached for Ghost’s gloved hand. Squeezed.

He squeezed back.

Price exhaled, relief softening his features. “We’re sorry.”

And for the first time since the mission, she relaxed.

She wasn’t just their medic.

She was theirs.

And they?

They were hers.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy.

Not after the mission. Not after **everything.**

So when a knock came at her door, she wasn’t surprised.

She opened it—

And found all of them.

Soap, already grinning. “Scoot over, bonnie. Need your touch, aye?”

Gaz, lips quirked. “You know you’re stuck with us, yeah?”

Price, arms crossed, eyes softer than usual. “Get comfortable, make some space.”

And Ghost—Ghost, who didn’t say a word, but stepped inside and sat on the bed’s edge. His gloved hand found hers. Squeezed.

She knew that in the moment, with the boys around her. Things were changing. Things were growing between them and it would never stop. Regardless of the fights, the arguments, the missions, the looks. They knew that the 5 of them belonged with each other.

Nothing would change or separate them.

They belonged to each other and with each other. Not just as a team but as something more.

Something worth fighting for, something worth saving.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Taglist: @2bdamnedmadnesscombat

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