#and there's something extremely comforting in that. IDK what it is but <3 <3 <3 Spirk is family to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arachine · 2 years ago

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— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?

ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k

— playlist :: spotify link

“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…”

There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her.

Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.

For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight.

Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.

“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort.

The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from.

“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?”

There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you.

Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”

“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?”

“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again.

That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).

“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.

“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent.

A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him.

And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.

Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end.

The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only.

It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it.

Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them.

Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little.

Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat).

The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do.

He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest.

He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed.

From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away.

You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied.

When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?

“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!”

“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him.

“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs.

“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him.

“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son.

“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment.

“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”

With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel.

Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig.

No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident.

You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time.

By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering.

Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually).

Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it.

Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is.

“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body.

It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot).

“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.”

At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings.

It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack.

As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber.

Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…

“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out.

Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother.

“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.

“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.

“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.”

“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?”

“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together.

“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes.

“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you!

“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.

“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”

Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.

“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully.

“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”

Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.

“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd.

Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him?

You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him.

“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”

Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family.

He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success.

Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him.

“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf.

“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”

“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks.

“Do you have an idea where she might be?”

Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion.

“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.

“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”

With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence.

Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode.

This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would.

He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time.

“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden.

“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack.

That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?

Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot.

Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—

“(Your name)?”

You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway.

“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack.

“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk.

“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches.

“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting.

“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs.

“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.”

“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now?

Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him?

You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”

Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again.

You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart.

“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”

“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”

“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.

“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”

You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible.

It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“

“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each.

The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces.

“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.”

“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—

“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream.

But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.

“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly.

“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.”

“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.”

His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations.

He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones.

“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin.

“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds.

A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty.

“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?”

And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to.

The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.

“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve.

A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think.

Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face.

You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb.

Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring.

The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you.

“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—

The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you.

“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.”

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is.

You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours?

The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…

Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity.

Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force.

Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching.

It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you.

The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—

Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers.

And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it.

“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to.

“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man.

His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty.

The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you.

There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack.

Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides.

“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls.

It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy.

“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically.

“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile.

“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?”

The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him.

“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground.

It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…

“So pretty.”

Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness.

“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side.

“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess.

There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length.

The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.

For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable.

“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired.

Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you.

“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement.

The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds.

Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement.

He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.

“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons.

You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace.

You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks.

“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart.

“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains.

“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.”

A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam sully x reader smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #neteyam smut #avatar the way of water #atwow #awow #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut

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sundrop-writes · 11 months ago

Text

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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harmoonix · 8 months ago

Text

Love you like a love song

🌹 (Astrology Observations) 🌹

~ Music to my heart that's what you are

A song that goes on and on ~

🌹 - Eros (433) in Cancer/4th house or at Cancer Degrees (4°, 16°, 28°) can indicate your partner brings you a sense of home, they can be your comfort

🌹 - Eros (433) in Taurus/2nd house or at Taurus Degrees 2°, 14°, 26° can indicate your partner can be very abundent and passionate

🌹 - Eros (433) aspecting the ascendant makes the native erotic, beautiful, charming while aspecting the Midheaven (MC) makes the people as a whole to see them like that

🌹 - Eros in Gemini/3rd house or at 3°, 15°, 27° degrees can indicate your partner must have a very erotic voice/good at communicating/good at flirting

🌹 - North Node in Aquarius/at 11°, 23° degrees indicates the native's life path is to start something new/unique to the world

🌹 - Lust (4386) in the 1H/Aries/at 1°, 13°, 25° degrees can indicate a very lustful person, naughty, mischievous, very controlling of their desires

🌹- Cassanova (7328) in Aquarius natives might use a different or an unique tactic when flirting, they extra communicative at this

🌹 - Karma (3811) in Libra/aspecting Venus or in the 7H can bring you karmic partners/karmic relationships

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You are beautiful, like a dream come alive

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🌹 - Karma (3811) aspecting South Node indicates karma being brought up to you in this life from your past life 💖 but hey you have the chance to change it (Karma conjuncting my SN im done with life)

🌹 - Lust (4386) in Sagittarius/9H or at 9°, 21°, the native wants to be set free, to try all their lustful ideas with their partners, idk how to say this, but natives with these placements like to experience and try new things, literally giving switching the "positions" for you...

🌹 - Venus in the 6H/Virgo Venus/Venus at 6°, 18° get enemy -> lovers partners, people don't like you at first but somehow end up crushing for you...like girly ..didn't you hated me 2 seconds ago??

🌹 - Baddies with Gemini Venus/Venus in the 3rd house and 3°, 15°. 27° always spill the tea about their past relationships, like they love to tell stories about their exes

🌹 - Juno (3) in Air Signs natives are extremely charismatic, they charm with their words, these type of people who like text you at 3 am and finish the conversation in the morning

🌹 - Mercury aspecting Juno in good aspects make the natives to have a good communication between them and their partners (tense aspects can show that you don't always understand eachother)

🌹 - Vertex aspecting Juno can indicate a certain relationship of yours will change your life/faith/destiny but depends on the circumstances

🌹 - Scorpio/Aries/Capricorn/Taurus Sidereal/Vedic Risings can act more tough/dominant while on the inside they're the sweetest

🌹 - Juno aspecting Saturn can indicate an older spouse, like yasss you attract more older/mature/respectful people

🌹 - Pisces Juno/Juno in 12H/12°, 24° can indicate having a compassionate spouse/relationship, being affectionate can be a really good thing between you 2

🌹 - Vertex aspecting Sun can indicate that your faith/destiny/future all depends on you and you are responsible for your own future

🌹 - Venus in 2H/Taurus/2°, 14°,26° love gifting. They will always make gifts for people they love! Especially surprises!! This placement also indicate expensive taste

🌹 - Sun/Leo in the 7H have a vibrant energy, that's why people can be into them so much, their nature is charismatic makes them to attract desirable people

🌹 - A high aspected Mercury or Venus will indicate artistic talents, being into music/arts/drawing/acting

🌹 - Sun aspecting Midheaven will attract attention whenever they go. It's something they can't hide

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There's no way to describe what you do to me

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🌹 - Lust (4386) in Pisces/12H or at 12°, 24° will indicate a native who fantasize a lot about their sexual desires/lustful dreams/they have a very naughty imagination

🌹 - Lust (4386) in Scorpio/8H/ or at 8°, 20° will indicate a very intense native, they'll get addicted to you or vice versa, you by them, they have a mesmerizing aura

🌹 - Ceres (1) in Scorpio/8H or at 8°, 20° can nurture themselves with doing love, as corny as it sounds, it's kinda true if you think about it, Scorpio rules over the reproductive organs and Ceres is a nurturing point

🌹 - Ceres (1) in Libra/7H or at 7°, 19° can indicate nurturing through relationships, self beauty and admiration, is a very beautiful placement to have in your chart

🌹 - Ceres in (1) in Capricorn/10H or at 10°, 22° indicates a native who has a soft yet long nurturing term, when is in the 10H you can heal through your career/job/public, your nurturing process can be seen by people/public

🌹 - Lilith in Sagittarius is possibly a place where Lilith feels the wildest, because she doesn't give 2 apples about Adam in this energy

🌹 - Lilith in Taurus is a very luxurious place for Lilith to find herself in, she develops a sense of a big self - value/worth here and builds her confidence

🌹 - If your Sun has little to no aspects, you have an easier time to be yourself/without having to hide yourself from others

🌹 - Moon in Aquarius/Moon in the 11H/Moon at 11°, 23°. The native has a charismatic energy, they love to make new connections/new friendships with people and in general they're very loyal towards these

🌹 - North Node in Gemini/3H or at 3°, 15°, 27° degrees indicates a life path where you learn to express yourself/your personality/your aura in the right way, discover yourself through arts/music/writing etc...

🌹 - North Node aspecting Lilith indicates a life path where you have to embrace your shadow self/your bad side, to embrace and to understand that you have both good & bad sides

🌹 - Moon aspecting Lilith especially in harsh aspects are not to joke about, Lilith transforms into a venomous snake when is in harsh aspects with the Moon and it can be from powerless to dangerous to powerful and so on..

🌹 - Having a sidereal/vedic Sagittarius Sun is not that bad. Actually not at all, I have this placement at 20° in my vedic chart and it helps me being optimistic in my life

🌹 - GUYS remember how I did a post saying how much i love Pisces Venus and that I'll trade my Scorpio Venus for it? Well the Universe heard my prayer and after I found out my right birth time I actually found out I have Pisces Venus in my D9 chart (vedic astrology) which for me is still a win because I love this placement so much!!😭🌹 I literally started jumping when I discovered

🌹 "A song that goes on and on" 🌹

- Harmoonix

#astrology #birth chart #astro notes #astro observations #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #venus #astro blog #asteroids #astro #astro.com #astro seek

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iid-smile · 3 months ago

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what they call you

gojo, geto, nanami, shoko, toji, shiu, ino

if they were dating you series.

gojo

baby, chimichanga, pookie

baby is simple, and he calls you that regularly. also uses it when he's whining and sulking, trying to persuade you do fo something or forgive him. if the two of you are just starting off in a relationship, then this is where he starts off.

i'm still on my gojo as deadpool saga </3 chimichanga would actually be cute though. chimi for short, ninja if he wants to tease you, 'chimi cha cha slide changa' if he's feeling silly, or some variation of that. at some point, he'd actually want to try chimichangas with you.

pookie seems so gojo... i can't even explain it. if he has instagram but keeps the identity of you private, your codename would be pookie.

geto

angel, beloved, lovely

angel because he would believe you're saving his life. or maybe it's the other way around idk... you'd be there to comfort him when times were extremely low, it's like you're a blessing to him.

to geto, you're definitely a number 1 priority, which applies to every category known to man. you're his beloved because he protects you and never wants you to get hurt.

lovely would sound so lovely from him </3 his voice is smooth, so every time it comes out of his mouth is just heaven.

bonus!!! even him just saying your name holds so much love and value, so sometimes it may even feel a little weird having him say a nickname instead.

nanami

darling, love, dear

the holy trinity of course. honey or sweetheart may or may not pop up here and there, but not as frequently. i can't even make them separate because they all have the same reasoning anyways. all of them just sound perfect. nicknames that show how precious you are to him >>> nicknames that highlight your beauty. i don't make the rules.

actually!!! nanami uses love when he's comforting you. subtle way to remind you that he does love you, no matter how you're feeling or what you think about yourself.

bonus!!! wife. just "my wife." husband nanami is so real for this. we all get it.

shoko

cherry/loosie, pretty, babe

cherry and loosie are cigarette references. it would sound so nice coming from her until you ask what it actually means or why she calls you that. they're usually said when you talk to her on her smoke breaks.

UGH i can just imagine pretty rolling off her tongue when she calls you before doing an operation. i think she'd call you pretty daily too, both noun and adjective, and especially over text.

i don't think she'd really use overly cute nicknames, so babe is just right. mostly used in casual conversation, or if any coworkers are around.

toji

girl/woman, mama, sweet/sugar

toji is a sassy man. if you just nagged or scolded him, would say "okay, girl?" with no regrets whatsoever. says it as if he's innocent too, doesn't even blink an eye, or even care when you (pretend to) get annoyed or offended.

no he doesn't want any(more) kids, but he does call you mama. kinda comes from the time when he would do sneaky links, but you don't need to know that. when you're doing domestic activities like cooking or doing chores, this one frequently slips out. it's on impulse and he can't help it.

not sweetheart, just sweet. if we're basing this off of post mamaguro toji, i think sweet would come from "bittersweet", because he'd probably feel that way after getting into another relationship. sugar just sounds right as well. get it? because it's sweet.

kong shiu

darling, princess, missy/mrs kong

he's a darling guy for sure. the right amount of formal, but he can make it sound like a tease when he wants to. mostly used when the two of you are at home.

shiu would make you his princess whether you like it or not. you're his passenger princess, so it's natural he just calls you princess on it's own. feel free to decorate the seat as well because he'd actually let you.

mmm... mrs kong. he'd start saying that a few months before he proposes to you, and you wouldn't pick up the hint at all. makes an emphasis on it when he says it as well, just because. when you guys knew each other only for a bit but nicknames seemed okay, missy was a top pick. imagine shiu's driving you somewhere and he does a lil glance and calls you missy while talking... mhm...

takuma ino

bubs, sunshine, queen

ino definitely calls you cute things, and this applies to all of the above. bubs, however, is on another level. when he gives you headpats (canon because i said so) he'd drop a compliment and call you bubs on top of that.

would say it when he wakes you up in the morning with a call or text. "good morning sunshine!" hello??? get me a man that would say that to me every morning WITHOUT FAIL (that's also canon because i said so) you'd be the light in his life and he won't let you forget that.

umm.. i have no solid explanation for this, but it feels right yk? ino would treat you like a queen honestly... in his eyes, you'd be at least ten levels above him and he means that.

bonus!!! he always uses loml over text. there's definitely multiple strings of you calling each other loml and seeing who can keep it up for longer in your messages.

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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 year ago

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Can already tell the scene where Crowley and Gabriel talk about memory loss is gonna be this season’s Plant Scene, in that it’s the scene I get weirdly obsessed with and read a lot into. But it’s just…so tonally strange and kind of disconcerting. It’s not just me, right?

It feels weirdly…secretive? Yes Aziraphale just told Crowley to go over and talk to Gabriel, and it’s not the only time they’re alone together, but it’s just the two of them, in a back room, no Aziraphale, and it has this kind of foreboding tone to it?

It seems very clear that Crowley has not told Aziraphale all the details of the attempted execution in Heaven and this is part of why he wants the secrecy.

Crowley is clearly furious at the beginning, but seems kinda disturbed when Gabe seems ready to follow his instructions to jump out the window. (EDIT: TO FALL idk why I didn’t pick up on this before.)

Crowley has his glasses off almost the entire scene. He takes them off so Gabriel can see his expression clearly when he’s at his most angry and threatening. But then he keeps them off for the whole rest of the scene, which just does not seem like something Crowley would be likely to do around Gabriel. He was just talking to Aziraphale about how he doesn’t feel safe/comfortable in the bookshop with Gabriel around. (What does it meeeaaannn)

“I feel like an empty house. A house where someone lived for a very long time, but now they’re gone, and the house can sort of tell where the things used to be” is such a raw fuckin line, and after the memory loss plot mostly being played for comedy it really stands out.

“It hurts to remember.” “I know. Do it anyway.” WHAT

The fact that Crowley seems to know that if pushed, Gabriel can remember bits and pieces (which he does). WHAT DOES IT MEEEAAAANNNNN

”If it happens again, it’ll make it seem like an institutional problem” being one of the 2-3 specific things Gabriel remembers.

“I know. Looking at where the furniture isn’t.” WHAT

Crowley, clearly extremely annoyed about his impulse to do so, offering Gabe a hot chocolate

#this scene is weird right??#once again i say #what does it meeeeean #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 spoilers #crowley

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soapyghostie · 9 months ago

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I love all these slasher posts✨ especially the Sawyer brothers ones ❤ can you do one where when sleeping on their bed their S/O literally falls off in the middle of their sleep and what their reactions will be?😭 idk why i feel like that would be hilarious <3

Here’s the request I promised y’all earlier. Another one that’s been in my inbox for months. Enjoy!

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a heavy sleeper: working all those long hard hours in that Texas heat results in extreme exhaustion for him by the end of the day. Once Bubba is asleep, he initially doesn’t even notice when you, unknowingly due to you also being asleep, roll off the bed onto the floor.

When he eventually wakes up and feels that your side of the bed is empty, Bubba panics through squeals of distress, thinking something terrible has happened to you. He’ll scramble out of bed to end up finding you fast asleep on the floor. This makes Bubba feel so much better, knowing you're okay. However, sleeping on the floor just won’t due and he must get you back on the comfy bed so you can get more comfortable rest.

Bubba bends down to pick your sleeping form off of the floor and back onto the bed. Then he rearranges the bed around you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between the both of you (just in case he accidentally pumps you off), fashioning a makeshift barrier of pillows to prevent you from rolling off. Bubba will also wrap your sleeping form in one of his homemade blankets he crafted in his freetime when doing one of his “hobbies.”

When he’s satisfied with tucking you back in, Bubba will crawl back into bed and drape an arm around your figure to secure you from rolling off the bed again. From that night forward, Bubba will train himself to become a light sleeper, allowing him to become subconsciously aware of your movements to prevent you from falling off the bed again.

Nubbins Sawyer

Nubbins would initially sleep through your unfortunate sequence of events of you falling off the bed until he hears a loud thump. He’ll wake up to the sound, sitting up abruptly, blinking in confusion before realizing you're nowhere on the bed anymore and breaking into a mischievous grin.

Nubbins will pull out his camera and start taking pictures of your limp sleeping form twisted in the weirdest and uncomfortable sleeping possible you’d ever see. Once he had his fun, he’ll shake you awake as hard as he can, ending with you probably getting angry at him and chewing him out for waking you up. When you realize you are laying on the floor, Nubbins will most likely start teasing you with playful remarks, joking about your “gravity-defying escape” from the bed.

However, underneath the playful banter, Nubbins is genuinely worried about you, checking to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself on the way down to the floor. He’ll even offer to help you get back onto the bed. Nubbins will also use this opportunity to recount some bizarre bedtime stories of his brothers to lighten up the mood, helping you forget the initial embarrassment of your fall. His laughter will echo through the room as he regales you with tales of sleepwalking or bed-flipping mishaps from his experiences.

Once you're all tucked in, Nubbins will settle back into bed, cuddling up to you with a twinkle in his eye and that goofy grin he always has, ready to take more peculiar adventures with you tomorrow.

ChopTop Sawyer

ChopTop jolts awake to the sound of your body hitting the floor almost immediately, his wild hair standing on head as he assesses the situation. When he realizes you fell off the bed, rather than showing immediate concern, ChopTop will burst into a fit of laughter, finding the situation highly amusing and entertaining.

You’ll wake up to him right next to you poking you. Once ChopTop notices that you're awake, he’ll start teasing the hell out of you, making crude dark and twisted jokes. He’s trying to push you over the edge to try and get a reaction out of you. It’s like him encouraging you to punch him at this point: I wouldn’t blame you if you did though.

Deep down, he would be worried about you. ChopTop checks you for any bruises or injuries while making more jokes showing both concern and amusement. He’s really trying to hide that softer side of himself that he has for you. He needs to be manly and not all soft and mushy like a little girl. God Damnit (Y/N)!

Once he knows you're alright and don’t have any sort of injury, ChopTop will go back to his normal self and brush off any sort of concern he had for you. He’ll even suggest turning the accident into a funny story, weaving a narrative about the legendary “bed diver” in his signature storytelling style. His laughter lingers in the air as he gently helps you back up into the bed. Is that a hint of nervousness that I hear in that laugh ChopTop? As you both settle back down, he will continue to try and entertain you with bizarre anecdotes and offbeat humor as he wraps a protective arm around you as you fall soundly to sleep. wink

#slashers #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer #nubbins sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer #sophi ghostie writes

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 month ago

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[11:20 PM]

summary: you know suguru loves you—but do you really know suguru loves you?

tags: geto suguru x you; pining; SO MUCH pining; love confession; can this be called 'hurt/comfort'? idk; you're a goner for suguru; suguru too is a goner for you but he's a cult leader here, so tread with caution, y'all; you & suguru co-parent mimi-nana; both of you are sooo... terrible in love *mwah mwah mwah* (no hate nor disrespect meant for online college courses btw <3)

wc: 2k+ (this was supposed to be a drabble T-T)

series: to fall in love is to create a religion (that has a fallible god)

love is stored in the eyes—

you never quite realise this before suguru.

every morning when he hands you your cup of tea just the way you're fond of it; every time he sets out for the cult headquarters with a hug for the twins and a soft smile for you; every evening he returns home, once again wrapping the kids up in a warm hug, and sometimes even pulling you in; every time you bump into him while tidying your house up after you both have successfully put mimi-nana to bed—

no matter the hour of the day, whenever your gaze meets his, you can never fail to understand that suguru loves you, how much suguru is in love with you—

something that never quite fails to leave you breathless.

something that never quite fails to leave you whirring and wondering.

you have always loved suguru.

you loved him then when he was a sweet kind boy, untouched by the grimy nails of the real world. you loved him then when he was a mere shell of the said boy, cracked and crumbling away at the edges. you love him now when he is no longer a boy but a man exacting revenge on the society and all those in it who have wronged him; a man doing what he deems is needed to correct a world that is already tainted at its core.

you reckon you have loved him since before you knew exactly what 'love' entails. you believe you will always love him so; he's the cause, after all, why and how you've learnt the meaning of 'love'.

but, but, but... why does he love you?

had it been before, it would have made sense.

the eldest scion, the only daughter of a prestigious clan. features not the most stunning but charming enough to draw people's eyes when entering a room. gentle and mild, cultured and graceful—albeit not without a mind decently sharp plus a tongue barbed enough to hush any stinging comment. sufficiently good in academics, besides being the owner of a cursed technique so strong, it has oft been compared with the techniques of the zenin's and the kamo's—

long story short, you were assuredly a catch then.

it would have made a hell lot of sense if suguru fell for you then—but he never looked at you then in the manner he regards you now.

even though you have nearly nothing to offer the man now.

what with having been disowned by your parents, disowned by your clan, since the moment you decided to cut your ties with the jujutsu world and support suguru in his efforts. yeah, true, you still possess your good looks, refined upbringing, quick wits and an even quicker tongue—but you've also seen the curse users flocking round suguru. you don't think you can hold a candle to many, so many of them...

and as to the matter of your cursed technique?

geto suguru is the strongest, quite possibly the scariest curse user in recent history. your cursed technique pales when contrasted against the brilliance of his—there is a very slim chance he would cherish you for it. plus, you've seen the curse users flocking around him—there is an extremely high probability of few, if not many, of them having way more intriguing cursed techniques than yours; ones that would catch his eye much more certainly than yours—

you don't really hold any significance in his life other than taking care of nanako and mimiko, and occasionally putting in your two cents on the affairs of the cult... things, you're certain, suguru can easily find a far more suitable person for—

oh.

oh, oh.

does he actually love you?

you aren't reading the man wrong, are you?

said man merely blinks when you vault this ask onto him one night.

it takes him a beat before he questions back, "what?"

"you heard me, senpai," you hum a breezy reply, fighting your urges to look away and at the laptop open before you; the college you go to might be online but the assignments are in no way any less difficult—but then again, how can you wrench your gaze away when it is your dearest geto-senpai?

good or bad, you don't know, but you've always been too too weak for him. and now when he is standing before you, face crumpled up in an adorable frown while his eyes—those coal-black pools of gravity that are still telling you he loves you—they stay focused on you, and solely on you, not even granting a glance to the fact that his sleeves are not rolled up any more and are getting wet in the tap water—

"senpai," you start, your worry for his well-being eclipsing all the other concerns—suguru barely glances away from your face as he turns the water off and leans against the sink, turning entirely to face you. your ears feel warm under the weight of his unwavering gaze, but you vow not to pay them any mind.

not tonight.

not now.

"i know i've been a tad too busy these days," suguru explains, a weary sigh underlining his soft syllables, and making your heartstrings twist and twinge, "but that doesn't mean i don't love you or the twins—you three are my family—"

confused, you frown, trying to understand just what suguru is talking about... only for the realisation to dawn upon you a beat later.

you crack a smile, the words leaving you drenched in an undeniable fondness, "i know you love us, senpai. you're very much a family man; there's no doubt about it—i was just wondering if you love me or not."

"but didn't you just say you know—ah."

a muscle cramps behind your ribs. you realise you've never been this forthright before.

you've never loved anyone before.

those stifled urges of looking away and ducking under the too bright glow of your laptop screen surge once again, yet you suppress them more easily than then—but your heart doesn't prove to be as easy to tame, skipping and cramping and stuttering as you stare at the man before you. mentally drinking in the sight of him standing in the dim kitchen lights, dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of pyjamas with the sleeves soaking wet from washing dishes, and most notably, a novel but so very endearing flush creeping up from the little which can be seen of his chest, crawling up into his neck before the vivid red hues perfuse into, settling beneath the smooth skin of his cheeks—

you suck in a sharp breath, barely perceived but very much felt, when your gaze finally meets his. and those eyes, you find—those beautiful, wretched, wretchedly beautiful eyes—they appear to be drinking you in; inescapable black holes of the universe condensed into those thin sharp eyes you have grown to adore so much—

"i do," he offers quietly, voice so soft you might have mistaken it for a breeze outside had your five senses not been focused on him—solely on him—"i love you... the way you want me to... the way you've always loved me... i—i love you."

were you anyone but you, you would have been nursing a giggle now, seeing the oh-so-eloquent, oh-so-charming geto-sama falter, repeat and fumble with his words and sentences.

were you anyone but you, you would have been sporting a blush now, grasping the fact that you haven't been as guarded with your feelings for your former senpai as you have always liked to think you have.

were you anyone but you, you would have opted to bask in the sweet warm afterglow of being confessed to by the man you've been loving since seemingly forever—not everyone is so damn lucky in love, after all; not everyone gets to hear those three words, eight letters by geto suguru, after all...

it is one thing seeing the love for oneself in the eyes of one's beloved. it is another thing hearing them lend voice to that love.

but you aren't anyone but you.

which is why you can't help but make a sour face, tone bitterly baffled as you ask, "but why would you?"

"why would i?"

you nod your head in reply to suguru's echoed question, deciding not to pay any mind to its terribly dumbstruck tenor. "mmhm! why would you fall in love with someone like me, senpai? i've got nothing to give you in return; you won't get any sort of benefit falling in love with me. why would you ever choose to love such a person, senpai?"

suguru doesn't say anything for a while.

he just keeps staring. too too quiet, he cuts quite an imposing figure as he leans against the sink and keeps looking at you—it would have been creepy, you think, were it anyone but him. but it isn't, he's your geto-senpai, so you don't deem it to be creepy. just a little terrifying, and a lot alluring, if you ought to be honest—

"do you love me?" the man asks suddenly.

you waste not even one breath to shoot back, "i do. you know i do."

"but why would you?"

"wha—" you start, thrown off-kilter by this abrupt swerve suguru has made your conversation take. he merely smiles, not leaving you even one square inch space to wedge a foot in, "let alone advantages, i've brought you nothing but disadvantages, love—had you not fallen for me, you would have been living a comfortable posh life at your clan's estate"—no—"most probably promoted to the rank of a special grade sorcerer by now"—no—"or perhaps, attending a reputed university"—no—"and not have been stuck here, in some cheap two bedroom flat, with the words 'curse user' tainting your pristine image and a bounty on your head so high that you have to sit at home and take an online college course—"

"will you please shut up?"

in hindsight, you'll reckon that you should have kept your voice down lest the twins wake up and start crying in the next room. in hindsight, you'll also reckon that you should never have talked in such a tone to the man in front of you—but in this moment, you do not really reckon anything.

barely restraining your anger as it threatens to spill over as acid from your words, as tears from your eyes.

"so what, senpai? so what? i am in love with you!! i haven't decided to do business with you, that i must be aware of the possible risks, and profits and losses, and all that bullshit—i've decided to love you!! and i'll keep loving you because of and in spite of everything that you are, no matter wh—"

oh.

oh, oh—

oh.

your laptop lets out a faint beep.

one room away, you hear mimiko call for you then her adoptive father.

despite the maelstorm of emotions—enlightened?relieved?mortified?—wrecking havoc in your chest, you tear your gaze away from suguru and get up, a stripe of regret settling in your messy palette of feelings when the little girl's voice reaches you once again, much more frantic than the last time—

only to be pushed back into your chair by a large, slightly damp hand over your shoulder.

"stay here," suguru says, eyes crinkling and lips curled in an effortless smile; quieting you when you move to protest, "and while you're here, teach yourself to be a bit more kind to yourself, yes? my patience can only last for so long when someone insults me or what belongs to me—" he pauses, smile falling a bit as his eyes abruptly dip to the hollow of your throat, thumb brushing a gentle stroke over your collarbone—

your breath catches in your throat.

precisely at the spot suguru has trained all his focus on.

his eyes rise to meet yours, as swift as they fell then—

and you return a distracted nod—too occupied losing yourself in the abyss inside those obsidian pools of love; too blind to the sharp little tilt of his lips, when the object and subject of your adoration croons.

"you do understand what i'm saying—don't you, my love?"

early twenties cult leader suguru is the freakiest of all the suguru's, i believe ^_^

divider by @/cafekitsune

#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #kit posts 📝

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spiffysoultarot · 7 days ago

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What do you need to know? Pick a troll:

Pile 1: wheel, ten pent, 5 wands, empress. Whoa, talk about good fortune coming your way! We have both benefics represented here with the wheel (Jupiter) and empress (Venus). Something you once thought was totally out of the realm of possibility for yourself could actually be working out… but not without a fight. It is worth fighting for. It’s not underhanded, nasty, manipulative type fighting— it’s more like a healthy competition that makes you want to get better or just be a better person in general. I’m getting like an auto ski rope that you grab onto to get to the top of the ski hill— it’s like that, you just have to hold on tight and maintain your balance of self-love and nurturing to get there (financial abundance awaits at the top💵). Maintain a comfortable pace— don’t stand on your tippy toes all the time trying to be extra bc that’s not sustainable— know your limits/talents. Honor your natural workflow. Overall very positive— good for you, pile 1!

Pile 2: temperance, 8 swords, queen pent, knight cups (R). This one was kind of all over the place, 8 of swords always brings chaos and murkiness to readings for me. Multiple things here so bear with me. I got that someone here may have been very patient in achieving a material goal but are now feeling trapped or extremely emotionally unfulfilled or doubting if they even deserve it— like what are you so sad about? You got it. Idk, lol, I’m sorry if that’s blunt. But also— YES you deserve it!! Like maybe the material is balanced but now your mental/emotional state is out of whack. Someone may have burned you and made you doubt your judgement.“Never trust a salesman.” Keep him blocked, girl. Another thing was a successful self-made person uncovering material/physical proof that confirmed their suspicions someone was lowkey a goldigger. Then feeling hopeless as if they will never find someone who can match them in all the ways they desire. This sucks and I’m sorry that happened— you can move on a bit wiser now but also do you even really need anyone? Or do you just think you do bc you “should”? Something to ponder on bc the Queen and temperance upright are pretty balanced on their own. Animals are great companions. 🐈

Pile 3: star, ten of wands, judgement (R), 8 cups/10 pent (R). Finally seeing your own skills/strengths/talents and embracing them which will lead to positive attention, a win, recognition! ⭐️Possibly online. ORANGE & PURPLE. With the purple, yall are intuitive af and possibly saw it as a burden before but are now embracing your natural talents without shame. You’re not afraid to be seen. You’ve walked away from that which no longer serves you and certainly didn’t bring financial fulfillment. Wishes are granted here and new opportunities are abound— but they could be draining and will require hard work but I don’t see that being a problem for this pile at all. This win/oppurtunity is a long time coming. Leaving the status quo behind, finally stopping trying to fit your square self into this circular peg of typical life that you never fit into and probably never will. You’re here to help lead the way for others by simply being yourself. This new path has its own challenges but at least you’re doing something authentic, feeling inspired and emotionally fulfilled. In living authentically, you’re actually inspiring others to do the same. Keep doing you pile 3– you rock, and it looks good on you.

#pick a card #tarot #pick a card tarot #pick a troll #tarot reading

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freyaphoria · 4 months ago

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Hii i love your yandere seongjoong fanfics alot!! i hope you continue writing them. I was wondering if you could about seonghwa getting punished by hongjoong? Idk where the reader would be involved in the punishment but it would be great to see joong punishing hwa

Here is a fic that I wrote with the help of the best writer I know @matzrionette and where I experienced writer's block at its extreme! Again, tumblr doesn't save anything I write; I think it actually blocked me. Also, all the yandere seongjoong fics I wrote are related to each other, so if you are reading this for the first time, it will be easier for you to understand the relationship between them if you read the other yan!seongjoong fics in my masterlist♡♡♡

From Passion to Punishment

tw: yandere!hongjoong, blood (were you surprised?), violence, shouting, tools mentioned, hwa is naked, punching, implied (or not?) sex, I'm not good at writing this part, a little bit angst

wc: 2294

taglist: @aim-blossom

Part II ->

When the door to your room suddenly opened, you both jumped. Judging by Hongjoong’s eyes, you were in trouble. Of course you were in trouble. He was really going to kill you this time. “Hong-” you were cut off when he approached the two of you and grabbed the covers over you. He didn’t expect to see you both naked and wrapped around each other when he quickly removed the covers.

He only looked at you both for 3 seconds; you thought he was going to grab your arm and drag you away, but he ripped Seonghwa away from you without saying a word and started dragging him away. He took his boxers that were taken off next to your door and threw them on Seonghwa. You had pulled the covers up to your head and you thought that if you didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice you or forget about you. While Seonghwa was awkwardly trying to put on his boxers on the floor, Hongjoong got tired of waiting and continued to drag Seonghwa, one leg is in his boxers, and he left your room and slammed the door so hard that its voice echoed for a long time.

It happened so fast that you couldn’t even process what was happening. The whole thing had only taken 30 seconds at most. You still nervously pulled the covers over your face and waited for Hongjoong to take you too.

Why did you have sex with him? It was one of those things Hongjoong would definitely not accept. Why did you have to...

It all started when Seonghwa tried to comfort you after your punishment. He had gotten permission from Hongjoong to you to not to stay in the basement and carried you to your bed. And you two had gone a little too far in comforting and had sex for the first time. Seonghwa was reluctant at first, but when you insisted, he couldn't help it.

Even though you were hurting everywhere because of your punishment, Hwa was very gentle with you. He started by kissing all your wounds and you hadn't felt this happy in weeks. For the first time, you had felt truly loved and felt like there was a different bond between you. But did you think that Hongjoong wouldn't realize something was wrong when Seonghwa didn't make breakfast in the morning? Okay, you thought, but what about Seonghwa? Why did he still have sex with you even though he knew this? Maybe he thought Hongjoong wouldn't notice or he would fall asleep.

Waiting nervously while your thoughts were running through your mind revealed the pains you hadn't noticed from yesterday. You just wanted to take a shower and after breakfast like every day, send that devil off to who knows where and build legos with Seonghwa. But now you had no choice but to wait for Hongjoong to grab your arm and drag you to the basement.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but you woke up with the growling of your stomach. You fell asleep while waiting and strangely Hongjoong hadn't picked you up. Since Seonghwa hadn't come to your room for breakfast, something really strange must be going on.

Got out of bed, put on your clothes that were in a ball on the floor without taking a shower since you couldn't take a shower unless Hongjoong allowed it, and you peeped out the door. You waited for movement, but everything was as still as if frozen. There was no sound. You left your room, went downstairs, and looked in the kitchen, but there was no one there either. "Hwa?" You called out to Seonghwa, thinking that Hongjoong wouldn't be home at this hour. But you didn't get an answer. Then you thought he might be in the Lego room, so you went upstairs again and looked there, but he wasn't there either. "Hwa!" There was no sound. This time you were going to look at the terrace that was forbidden to you, but you heard a thump. It didn’t take long for you to realize where it was coming from; usually these kinds of sounds came from the basement. You didn't think to Hongjoong to punish Seonghwa, you thought that he just took him away and he was going to punish you. That's why you hadn't thought of looking in the basement before.

You ran halfway up, went down the stairs and went down to the basement. When you pushed the large metal door, you came across the last sight you wanted to see. “Seonghwa!” Hongjoong was on top of Seonghwa, hitting him in the face with all his might. Seonghwa was moving but couldn’t do anything. On the floor were Hongjoong’s favorite tools, a hammer, knives of all sizes and metal bats. They were all covered in blood; you didn’t know which one he used, but Seonghwa's body covered in blood said that Hongjoong used all the tools. Even though he was naked, there was so much blood that creating a bloody suit for him.

"Hongjoong, please don’t!” Hongjoong was still hitting him as if he was in a trance, not even noticing you coming. You tried to push him away from Seonghwa, but he didn’t move. “I’m sorry! I started it! It was my fault!”

“Did he make you feel good?” Hongjoong asked you, still focused on Seonghwa as he hit him, not taking his eyes off of him. You didn’t want to answer. Of course he did. “Did he make you feel good when he touched you before I could even touch you!?” Of course he did. He took all the pain and gave me pleasure. But if you said that, he would probably kill you both with one punch right then and there. “Hongj-” “Did he make you squirt? How many times did you cum? I bet he doesn’t even know how to kiss-” “Stop it!” pushed him hard and lowered your head. You were red, either from embarrassment or anger. That’s what he wanted, to embarrass you. He came to his senses and leaned towards Seonghwa. “You broke my trust. What a shame, you worked so hard to get here. Now everything is gone. I'm taking away all your freedoms, Park Seonghwa. You've disappointed me so much. I never expected it from you." After Hongjoong was satisfied that Seonghwa had been beaten enough, he got up from him and turned to you. He wiped his bloody hands on your clothes and grabbed your chin, pointing at Seonghwa. "Do you see? This is because of you. My once precious Hwa is in this state because of you. He is like this right now because you can't help your own pleasures. I trained him so well that if you told him to stop he would stop like a trained dog. But you chose to be a whore and satisfied yourself." He held your chin tightly and shook your head. Your cheeks were pressed together and there was a sharp pain, but you didn't care.

You looked at Hwa lying on the ground covered in blood. He was still conscious. Hongjoong let go of your cheek and slapped you hard, headed towards Seonghwa and plunged a kick into his crotch. "If you can't control your dick, there's no point in having it.” He left the basement without saying a word to you.

Now, you were left alone with Seonghwa, who writhing with crotch pain added to the pain dominating his entire body. "Hwa, I-"

"Shut up." His voice was very clear and harsh for someone covered in blood. You didn't know what to say. The fact that Hongjoong had hurt Seonghwa so much scared you; and Seonghwa was still breaking Hongjoong's rules and still not being a toy like he wanted made your stomach turn. The uneasiness that came from realizing that even if you stayed here for 2 years like Seonghwa or more, you were still stuck in a life full of pain and tears like when you first came was growing in your stomach. "Wait, let me help you." As you grabbed his arm and tried to lift him up, Seonghwa pulled his arm away from you harshly, and move a little away. “I don’t want your help.”

Why was he pushing himself away? Sure, it was kind of your fault that he got punished, but you weren’t the one who did this to him. You didn’t hurt him. Since having sex was mutual, you were both "guilty" of it.

“Hwa, you’re bleeding. You can’t go upstairs like that. Let me help you.” “I’m not going upstairs. Leave me alone.” His tone was getting louder, but you didn’t care. You wanted to help him just like he helped you with your punishments.

“Seonghwa, let me at least take a look at your wounds-” "I told you to leave me alone! Why can't you do even the smallest thing? Can't that stupid brain of yours take commands? Did Hongjoong hit you on the head so hard that you've become a brainless idiot! He should have gotten rid of you a long time ago, you can't train a disobedient idiot! I said I don't want you! Go away!"

Wow, that hurt. It really hurt. You never thought Seonghwa would blow up at you like that in your life. When his voice echoed throughout the basement, you realized the truth. He was just... someone. He wasn't your friend. He was a victim too. He was Hongjoong's victim and there was no connection between you. What you did yesterday meant nothing to him.

Before you could process what he said, you experienced a second shock with the tears falling from his eyes. Have you ever seen him cry before? No. Seonghwa always looked strong. Or so you thought, but he had never cried in front of you.

Without a word, you got up and went to the basement door; after giving him one last look, you opened the door. Outside, as you had guessed, Hongjoong was smiling at you with the most annoying smile you had ever seen. What was there to laugh about in this situation? Your friendship or whatever had been ruined because of him and now you were alone. If he hadn't punished him and hurt him, this wouldn't have happened. Your friend who had been with you for 3 weeks and who truly cared for you was gone, now turned into a stranger who hated you, and Hongjoong found this situation amusing.

"There are little arguments in relationships. Don't worry about it. Oh, or are you worried that he won't be able to fuck you for a while-" his voice was cut off by the punch you threw at his left cheek. You didn't expect to be able to hit him this time, whenever you tried to hit him you would definitely fail, so you were very surprised when you punched him with all your might and succeeded. While you were expecting a blow from him in the same way, nothing came. You only heard his creepy chuckle. He was chuckling. Maniac. "Son of a bitch" you were probably going to regret it. But there was no turning back now. His lack of reaction gave you more confidence and you passed him and went up the stairs. You didn't know if he was coming after you, but you came to your senses when you went upstairs, went into your room and slammed the door hard.

Tears were flowing non-stop; what were you crying about? The fact that Seonghwa got punished because of you, or he shouted at you for the first time and implied that he wanted to get rid of you, or the punch you threw at Hongjoong and you swore at him, or the fact that Hongjoong didn't react and left you on edge?

Probably all above. As you expected, there was a knock on your door. Wait, was there a knock? Was it Seonghwa? "Yes?", answered excitedly.

Your heart ached when the door opened and you locked eyes with the last person you wanted to see right now. Hongjoong would never knock on your door, you thought maybe he came to apologize. But the red mark on his left cheek that you caused showed that it wouldn't be like that at all.

"Do you want to go to the punishment room yourself like a good girl or do I have to drag you by your hair like a bitch?" You weren't going to escape the punishment, as you expected. There was enough chaos in the house and you didn't want to create more chaos by resisting, so you nodded and left your room. As you were going down the stairs, you suddenly realized: Hongjoong was going to give you a cruel punishment, and there wouldn’t be Seonghwa coming to comfort you. But what would you do? Could you do it on your own? You were never alone after punishments. Seonghwa would always come to tend to your wounds or distract you by patting your head and talking to you, and he would never leave your side. Right now, you were all alone, and you didn’t know how much harm this demon would give to you.

Anxiety was gradually filling your veins as you skipped the last step and crashed to the ground. Hongjoong grabbed your arm roughly, trying to pull you to your feet, but you threw yourself back, freeing yourself from his grip. “Please! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again-” the burning sensation on your face preceded the sound of the slap. “Just like Hwa said, you really are a stupid whore who can’t take any orders. But don’t worry, contrary to what he said, I won’t get rid of you. Now, stand up and go to the punishment room before I make you.”

Part II ->

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