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heliosunny · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I wasn’t sure if you’ve played the older genshin events/have an interest in him, but if you do could I request something for yan! Albedo? His long awaited return has been causing me crazy brainrot lol I’d love to hear your thoughts on him

Rest assured, I've been one of the players since the game's release and only stopped playing after Fontaine. It was a magical game back then, but I lost interest later on and dropped it. Hope u enjoy reading this!

Contractual Affection

Yandere!Albedo x Reader

Albedo sat in the dim glow of multiple screens, his sharp eyes scanning the profiles in front of him. His fingers tapped idly against his desk.

"This one."

The assistant beside him marked the chosen candidate.

You had heard the rumors.

The Kreideprinz Corporation paid exceptionally well—better than any other company in Teyvat. But there was a catch: employees never lasted long. Some said the work was grueling. Others whispered about the CEO’s particular standards.

Then, the real surprise came.

"You’ve also been selected as his partner in marriage."

Wait—what? You're here for work though.

Before you could protest, you were ushered into his office.

"I’ve been waiting for you."

You checked the email notification on your phone again and again.

"Congratulations! You’ve been selected as the personal assistant to Chief Albedo Kreideprinz. Additionally, you are hereby formally engaged to him under a provisional contract."

You blinked. Then read it again.

…What? How did you miss the second line?

Sure, the job posting had mentioned "unconventional benefits" but this was not what you’d signed up for. You were thrilled to get the job, maybe that's why you didn't even bother to finish reading the mail.

Albedo’s office was pristine, much like the man himself. He didn’t even glance up when you stormed in, waving your phone like a white flag of confusion.

"There’s been a mistake!" you insisted. "I applied for a job, not an—an arranged marriage!"

Finally, he set down his pen. His gaze was glacial, but there was something beneath it—amusement? Annoyance?

"No mistake," he said. "It’s a temporary arrangement. My family has been… insistent."

Alice—his adoptive mother, a whirlwind of chaos, and Klee, his little sister (bless her explosive heart), had apparently decided that Albedo’s "workaholic iciness" was a cry for help. They’d misread his quiet dedication as loneliness.

"They believe I lack 'human warmth,'" he deadpanned. "This was their solution."

You crossed your arms. "So I’m your..."

"For appearances only. The salary, of course, will reflect the additional role."

…Well. That was a staggering number. And, not that it mattered, but Albedo was unfairly handsome.

"Fine," you sighed. "But no weird demands. We keep it professional."

"Naturally."

Breaking News! The announcement hit the tabloids: "Kreideprinz CEO ENGAGED to Mystery Partner!"

Speculations ran wild. But your identity remained sealed under airtight confidentiality—for your safety, the contract stated.

…Which meant you now had to dodge paparazzi, side-eye strangers in cafes, and resist the urge to throat-punch anyone who whispered, "I heard they’re a gold-digger."

The pressure was on.

Surprisingly… Albedo was chill about it.

He treated you with the same detached politeness as before, just with added "my dear" in front of the board members.

"This isn’t working," you admitted one evening, slumping into his office couch. "People think you hired an actor. Look at this."

You shoved your phone at him. A gossip forum’s top thread: "Albedo’s ‘partner’ = paid PR stunt??"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! If this fails, your family will just set you up again. And I’d like to keep my lucrative job." You hesitated. "We should… go on dates. Public ones."

Albedo finally looked up from his notes.

"Very well. Dinner at La Lumière tomorrow."

You should’ve known the universe would punish you for trying to help.

The photo splashed across every gossip site by dawn: "Albedo’s Future spouse Caught in Scandalous Rendezvous!" The caption screamed betrayal, but the reality was pathetic. You’d just been asking an old friend for café recommendations while Albedo took a phone call.

You’d explained. He’d nodded calmly. "I trust you."

…Which somehow made it worse.

Now, holed up in his pristine townhouse (a temporary safety measure, he insisted), you stared at the latest headline: "Heartbroken Kreideprinz: Is the Engagement Doomed?"

You groaned into a couch cushion. "I’m going to strangle the press with their own camera straps."

knock knock knock.

Albedo hadn’t mentioned visitors. The paparazzi wouldn’t dare approach his private residence… right?

Cautiously, you peered through the door’s stained glass and saw a tiny figure in a red hat, bouncing on their toes.

You cracked the door open. "…Hello?"

"Hi!!" The girl beamed, clutching a backpack that rattled suspiciously. "I’m Klee! Big brother Albedo said I could visit, but.." She leaned in, whispering loudly, "he forgot, so you gotta let me in before the monsters find me!"

…What.

Five minutes in, you learned three things:

Klee was Albedo’s sister (and a walking explosion hazard).

She adored her brother (and was thrilled he "finally got a friend!").

She had the energy of a thousand suns (and zero respect for "boring adult rules").

By the time Albedo’s immaculate living room resembled a rainbow bomb site, crayon murals on the walls, Dodoco plushies staging a coup on the sofa, and something sticky on the ceiling, you were ready to collapse.

Klee, however, was just getting started.

"Watch this!!" She brandished a handful of glitter. "Sparkly Boom—"

"NO—" You lunged.

The door clicked open.

Albedo stood in the doorway, gaze sweeping over the chaos, the overturned furniture, the glue-streaked floor, Klee dangling from the chandelier (how?!) before landing on you.

"…I was gone for two hours."

Klee waved. "We bonded! Your friend's fun, Big brother Albedo!"

"Did you now?"

You thrust Klee toward Albedo like a live grenade.

"Here. Please."

He took her without comment, though his eyebrow twitched at the glitter smeared across his sleeve while you scrambled to salvage his ruined home.

"Leave it," he said, catching your wrist as you tried to scrub crayon off the wallpaper. "I’ve already called a cleaning service."

"You—what? Then why didn’t you—"

"You seemed… invested."

Was that amusement in his voice?

With the house uninhabitable and no food in sight (RIP, the exploded kitchen experiment Klee swore was a "snack"), the three of you fled to a quiet corner of Mondstadt’s tavern.

Peace, at last.

"Big brother Albedo," Klee chirped around a mouthful of sticky honey roast, "do you like your friend?"

You choked on your water.

"Of course."

"But like-like? Like how Mom likes Dad before he went poof?"

"Klee—"

"Because if you like-like them, you gotta hold hands! And kiss! And—"

"We are engaged." Albedo interjected smoothly. "That means I care for them deeply, and we’ll be together… indefinitely."

Klee squinted. "That’s boring. Prove it."

"It’s inappropriate to do such things in front of children."

"Liar." She puffed her cheeks. "Mom kisses people all the time in front of me!"

With terrifying calm, he turned to you.

"Apologies."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Your face burned. Klee giggled. Albedo sipped his wine like nothing happened.

"Happy?" he asked Klee.

"Mmm… barely pass." She grinned at you.

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate both of you."

-----

The moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew something was wrong.

A man you’d never seen before suddenly blocked your path, grinning like a wolf who’d spotted easy prey. "Hey there, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here."

You sidestepped, but he grabbed your wrist. "Come on, don’t be like that. Let’s chat—"

Camera flashes erupted.

Shit. You’d been set up.

The paparazzi lurked just out of reach, snapping photos of the "scandalous encounter" they’d orchestrated. Your pulse spiked—this would be everywhere by sundown.

"Remove your hand."

You didn’t even have to turn to know Albedo was there.

The man scoffed. "Or what? You gonna fight me over your little—"

Albedo’s fingers dug into the man’s shoulder, forcing him back with terrifying ease. "I won’t repeat myself."

The cameras went wild.

You expected him to drag you away. Instead, Albedo cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek where the stranger had nearly grazed you. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head.

Then, in full view of the paparazzi, he pulled you close, one arm locking around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Let’s go home," he murmured, loud enough for the cameras to catch.

The crowd erupted.

Once the authorities dispersed the paparazzi, Albedo didn’t let go. His grip on your hand was just shy of painful, his strides too fast as he led you through backstreets.

"Albedo—"

"Quiet."

Only when you were safely inside his car did he finally look at you.

"It won’t happen again."

--Days before the actual selection--

The stack of personnel files sat neatly on Albedo’s desk, each one meticulously reviewed and annotated in his precise, angular script. He had no patience for incompetence, no interest in those who might disrupt the careful order of his work. And yet, when he reached your file, his pen hovered.

He didn’t believe in fate. But something about you, the way your credentials aligned so perfectly with his needs, made him pause.

A practical choice. He circled your name in red ink.

But just to be sure, he'll look up for more information.

At the time, it was nothing more than that.

He hadn’t expected you to be good with Klee.

Most people weren’t. Either they coddled her like glass or scolded her recklessness without understanding the sharp mind behind it.

You handed her bandages when she skinned her knees, humming distractedly as she chattered about her latest "experiment." You packed her lunches with the same precision you applied to his reports, slipping in a handwritten note now and then ("No sparkling bombs today, okay?").

And when Albedo worked through the night, he’d find a fresh pot of coffee at his elbow, a blanket draped over the back of his chair.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

-------

The sky had been clear when you left headquarters. Albedo remembered this distinctly because he had noted the weather in his daily log—72% humidity, minimal cloud coverage, optimal conditions for outdoor testing.

And yet, by mid-afternoon, the clouds rolled in like spilled ink.

He was reviewing soil samples when the first raindrops hit the windows. A flicker of movement caught his eye—you, darting across the courtyard below, arms raised uselessly over your head as the downpour soaked through your clothes in seconds.

A logical man would have returned to his work.

Albedo found himself at the door with his coat in hand before he'd fully processed the decision.

You nearly collided with him when you burst inside.

"Oh—!" You skidded to a halt, blinking water from your lashes. "I didn't think anyone was—"

"Take this." He thrust the coat at you.

"But you'll—"

"I dislike repeating myself."

"...Thank you."

He watched, inexplicably fascinated, as you shrugged it on. The sleeves swallowed your hands whole.

"You look ridiculous."

You laughed, shaking rainwater from your hair. "Well, it's not like I had much choice. Unless you wanted me tracking mud through your—"

"The third floor lavatory has a hand dryer." He turned on his heel. "Try not to electrocute yourself."

You returned the coat folded neatly on his desk, still faintly damp at the cuffs.

Albedo picked it up. The scent hit him like a poorly calibrated reaction. His grip tightened.

Across the room, Klee bounced on her toes. "Big brother, are you listening? I said—"

"Later, Klee."

The coat went into his desk drawer.

---

A late night in the lab, the winter chill seeping through the windows. You rubbed your arms absently, fingers numb from sorting through stacks of his research notes.

A shadow fell over you, then the weight of his coat across your shoulders.

You startled. "I’m not—"

"You’re shivering." His fingers lingered at your collarbone, adjusting the lapel. "It’s inefficient."

The fabric was still warm from his body.

You didn’t have time to protest before he was back at his desk, scribbling equations like nothing happened.

Then there was this other time.

"You’ll freeze."

The winter wind howled through the streets as Albedo looped his scarf around your neck.

"I have my own—"

"Not thick enough." He tugged the wool tighter, his breath fogging in the air between you.

When the paparazzi snapped photos of you wrapped in his colors, he didn’t correct the headlines.

"Kreideprinz’s Future Spouse Spotted in His Clothes!"

"Stay close."

Albedo’s hand settled at the small of your back as you navigated the ballroom. This was something you didn't expect to do. Dancing and all at a party.

"We agreed—no unnecessary contact in public."

"Mm." His thumb stroked your spine. "But that reporter from Fontaine has been staring. Credibility demands consistency."

Then his lips were at your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe.

You gasped.

"Paparazzi expect them at events like this." he murmured, pulling back to admire the mark blooming on your neck.

Your face burned. "That’s..."

"Shall I add another?"

The office knew.

How could they not? Their boss is definitely not good at hiding his true intention.

But the worst part?

You were starting to like it.

The way his gloves caught in your hair when he "fixed" your hood. The weight of his coat. The thrill when he glared down people who dared to flirt.

----

It was just another ordinary day.

You were delivering a stack of reports to Albedo’s office when a loud crash from the hallway startled you. The papers in your hands slipped, scattering across the floor. With a sigh, you knelt to gather them, only to freeze when you realized what you were looking at.

A list of names.

His original selection of candidates.

Each one was meticulously annotated—appearance, qualifications, personality traits. All of them were stunning. All of them were brilliant.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

"Wow, look at these people. Gorgeous, talented.. Why am I even here? I should’ve quit ages ago." you joked, shuffling the papers back together.

You looked up.

Albedo stood in the doorway.

"You’re not leaving, are you?"

"I—It was a joke." you stammered, quickly standing.

He stepped forward, his fingers curling around your waist. "Humor is subjective. That wasn’t funny."

"I wasn’t serious."

Just as he leaned in, his lips parting to say something far from professional.

"OH MY, IS THIS A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT?!"

There she was—Alice, Albedo’s adoptive mother, back from her latest trip.

Her eyes darted between the two of you, Albedo’s hand still gripping your waist, your face burning crimson, and she grinned.

"Awwww! My little chalk prince finally found love!" she cooed, clapping her hands. "And you! You’re adorable! Oh, we have to start planning—"

Before you could even process, she had whipped out a detailed baby-naming guide from god knows where and was flipping through it excitedly.

"Hmm, if it’s a girl, ‘Lumine’ has a nice ring!"

You were mortified. Albedo, however, looked completely unbothered.

"Mother," he said calmly, "this is Y/N L/N."

"I KNOW! I SAW THE HEADLINES!" Alice squealed, grabbing your hands. "You’re staying for dinner. We’re celebrating! Klee! KLEE, GET IN HERE!!!"

The "celebration" lasted three full days—three days of Alice’s increasingly unhinged wedding plans, Klee’s sugar-fueled energy, and Albedo watching it all with the quiet amusement of a man who had already accepted his fate.

By the time you finally returned home (Alice having vanished mid-party with a "Be back in a year or five! Love you!"), you were exhausted.

Klee, somehow still buzzing with energy, had insisted on a "sleepover!"—which meant she now lay sprawled between you and Albedo in the bed, her tiny limbs taking up an unreasonable amount of space.

"Hey," Klee piped up, rolling onto her side to squint at you. "Hypothetically… if Big brother Albedo turned into a dragon and kidnapped you, would you be mad?"

"What?"

"Like, a big dragon. With scales and fire and stuff. And he carried you away to his super-secret dragon castle and said you could never leave." She grinned. "Would you stay?"

You shot a glance at Albedo, who was watching you with far too much interest.

"Well," you mused, playing along, "if he was nice about it… and maybe let me redecorate the dragon castle… I guess it wouldn’t be so bad."

Klee giggled. "He’d definitely be nice! He’d give you all the books you want and never let anyone else take you!"

Albedo’s fingers twitched against the sheets.

You yawned, your eyelids growing heavy. "Mmm… then sure. I’d stay."

Klee opened her mouth to ask another question, but before she could, you were already asleep.

Albedo waited until Klee’s breathing evened out—until she, too, finally succumbed to sleep, curled up like a little firework ready to explode at dawn.

Carefully, he shifted her to the side, tucking the blankets around her before turning his attention to you.

His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

He had made the right choice.

Not just in selecting you, though that had been flawless in its own way, but in keeping you. In letting you carve a space into his life, his routines.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, murmuring something unintelligible.

The peace lasted exactly two hours.

The bedroom door burst open with enough force to rattle the walls.

"GOOD MORNING, FUTURE GRANDBABY FACTORY—"

Albedo’s arm shot out, catching Alice by the collar before she could leap onto the bed. Klee snorted in her sleep, rolling over like a tiny, bomb-happy burrito. You jolted upright, hair sticking in every direction.

"Mother," Albedo hissed through gritted teeth, "they’re sleeping."

Alice pouted. "But I have blueprints for a nursery! And a list of explosion-proof baby names!"

Without breaking eye contact, Albedo reached for his desk intercom. "Security."

As they hauled Alice away, her voice echoed down the hall:

"FINE! BUT I’M MAILING YOU THE CRIB ANYWAY—"

The door slammed.

You stared at Albedo.

Then, slowly, he pulled the blankets over your head.

"Five more minutes" he muttered.

----

You woke in a cold sweat, gasping.

"Albedo—Albedo—"

He was already awake, "Hm?"

"I just dreamt you were a dragon," you panted, "and you...you swallowed me whole—"

Albedo laughed. Not a polite chuckle, but a deep, unhinged sound that vibrated through his chest.

"That’s not funny!" you hissed, swatting his arm.

"It’s hilarious," he corrected, wiping his eye. "And biologically implausible. Unless," he added thoughtfully, "I shrunk you first."

You gaped at him.

He kissed your forehead. "Go back to sleep."

You did not.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo x y/n #yandere albedo

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leejenowrld · 2 months ago

Text

‘heart to heart’ moodboard and teaser

— story three (final) of the ‘love and games universe’ can be read as a standalone

synopsis

when chief pediatric surgeon na jaemin finally faces the surgery he’s been avoiding, an intricate follow-up on his six-year-old daughter haeun’s rare cardiac condition, he’s forced to confront every layer of fear and guilt he’s buried. he can’t bear the thought of losing his baby girl, and hospital policy bars him from scrubbing in. into that void steps you: meticulous, unflappable, and obsessed with finding solutions. a chance misfiled scan reveals your quiet brilliance, and when you tentatively offer to help, jaemin’s brusque “stay out of it” nearly shuts you down—until circumstances thrust you into haeun’s care, forging a bond at the bedside no amount of professional decorum can contain.

as you navigate grueling late-night case reviews, cross-reference experimental techniques, and treat ha-eun’s pre-op jitters with bedtime stories and gentle hand-holds, jaemin watches through the glass, torn between dread and gratitude. when the attending surgeon stumbles on a critical complication, it’s your daring proposal that turns the tide and jaemin must decide whether to relinquish control and put his daughter’s life in your hands. on the day of surgery, he slips into the shadowed observation gallery, heart hammering as you steady ha-eun’s trembling hand and whisper, “your dad’s rooting for you.” the procedure is a triumph, and as the team celebrates, ha-eun reaches for your scrubs, her small voice asking, “will you come back tomorrow?”—proof that healing can spring from the softest touch and bravest leap of faith. just as you kneel to answer, a doctor calls in urgency from the hallway, panic tucked beneath the calm. there’s an anomaly on ha-eun’s post-op scan. small. unexpected. enough to halt the celebration mid-breath.

in the quiet aftermath, you and jaemin find yourselves tethered by something deeper than duty, something steadier than adrenaline. he sees, in your unwavering calm, the kind of trust that doesn’t need permission—just presence. you see, in him stripped bare, the man who can’t repair what aches inside him until he lets someone else reach in and hold the pieces. together, you learn that not all operations require scalpel or suture—some demand only the kind of courage that stays when the lights go dim. you learn that some operations don’t need hands in sterile gloves but hearts brave enough to open.

comment to be added to the tag list, coming in july

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thewritingfairy · 4 days ago

Text

↪ 00. An encounter created by fate

Trigger warnings: medical emergencies, talks of neglect, thoughts of death, self-deprication main m.list series m.list

You’re a college student, you’ve moved out and you got a stable job as a teacher’s aide. It’s all you could ever ask for, truly.

You’ve left the family that neglected you your whole life, you left the family that let your older brother beat the shit out of you and you left the family that was never yours. And now your name finally bears your mama’s maiden name again. It finally bears the name you love the most.

For that’s the name your soul sings and embraces.

Your classmates calling you by her name heals you in a way, yet it cannot heal your body. It’s why you’re in a hospital once more, it’s why you’re are in the emergency room as you pray your insurance will cover it all. Even if you don’t believe, when it comes to insurance hope is needed.

Sometimes you wish your mama was still here, you wish she could still hold your hand as doctors deliver you terrible news or send you home. You wish she was still there to shout some sense into them, as you are tired and no longer wish to fight.

So you just close your eyes as a nurse puts some medication in your IV. You know it won’t help at all, but at least they don’t think you are a drug addict simply searching for their next fix. So perhaps today it will be a good visit, a visit without cutting eyes and fake smiles.

But you’ve always been someone who’s too hopeful for their own good.

The doctor that came to see you doesn’t doubt your diagnoses, she doesn’t doubt the pain you experience. But she cannot do anything, for there is no solution to your pain. There is no solution to the ache that resides deep within your bones, there is no solution for the closing of your throat. As it isn’t there, you are imagining it as your pain takes over your body. Yet she doesn’t judge you, she doesn’t discredit what you feel.

You wish all doctors to be like her, you wish for this all to leave soon. You need to start on your essay, you have no time to lose as it’s due in two weeks and you still have a presentation to finish.

Yet when you open your eyes once more, it isn’t the nurse’s pitying eyes that catches your attention. No it’s Conner.

Your brother’s best friend.

Your breath hitches, your eyes scanning your environment as you beg to who ever controls Fate to not let Tim be here. It had taken great measures to make yourself untraceable, you had been lucky that your first job connected you to Penguin in a legal way. And you had been even luckier in the fact that he liked you. In a professional sense, he liked you enough to fake trails to little Easter eggs of your mama.

The Wayne family doesn’t deserve any thoughts, they do not deserve your hopes and dreams. They don’t deserve your anger, but you know your mama. If she had the power to haunt Bruce and his children, she would haunt him like it’s her full-time job. She would make his life a living hell, so this is the Penguin’s and your way to make that happen. Sometimes you have to help the death out, you know.

How pathetic would it be if your family found you due to a medical emergency? It’s not as if they are actively searching, now that they know you left willingly. (At least that is what you like to believe, but don’t worry they’re high on your tail and ready to take you home before you can even shout for help.)

Yet relief floods your body as your posture becomes less tense. You don’t relax, not at hospitals, you’ve never done so. Today won’t be any different, but at least you don’t have to be on guard and ready for a fighting match. At least you hope so, you know Conner must be hurt from you disappearing.

Yet you didn’t expect him to look this torn, for his eyes to water as if he saw someone he believed to be death. So you don’t say anything when he turns around and leaves, you just close your eyes once more as you let your mind and body be succumbed by pain.

You let your mind be consumed with thoughts of meeting your mama in the after life. For not only are you unlovable as a child, you are also romantically unlovable.

Seeing Conner doesn’t only unlock your anxiety about your family finding you, it unlocks all the feelings you used to have. Is it truly used or do you still feel that way? Yet it also unlocks the peace you felt whenever Conner was with you.

You regret ghosting him, truly. However it was the best course of action, something that’s painful but must be done.

It’s better for him to ignore you, otherwise it would just unlock Pandora’s box.

NEXT PART the prologues are always short when it comes to my writing, this will be a fun romantic practice fic. However some parts aren't ‘romance’ but emotional abuse ect. Please be mindful of that while reading this fic.

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mercy-burning · 5 months ago

Text

(3) the trilogy. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor finds the landlord's favorite missing trilogy of books on a quiet, snowy day... content: strong language, allusions to sex, kissing, fade to black fingering) word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist

NOTE: Lots of fun stuff to come with these two soon! They're my favorite <3

———

On the days where Spencer is snowed inside, the perfect remedy should be a couple of books by the fireplace, but the fireplace is quite frankly impossible to keep up with (he never knows how much wood he actually needs and despite how many times he's tried, he swears the matchbook he has is faulty. It never starts.) And, he's read through all of the books he brought with him. Three times each.

The library is an option on a normal day, but the snowfall is so extreme that Stanton had called his house earlier in the morning to inform him that everyone had been requested to hold off on getting sick or injured until the Doctor was safe to leave his home. Sardinia is locked down for the day, he went on to explain, until the crew he'd called in to plow the roads with their heavy and capable machinery could tend to them.

For a town as small as this one, Spencer had just assumed everyone would have figured out how to manage heavy snow without calling in reinforcements. It's human nature, after all, to adapt to your surroundings and make do with what you have if not to develop a solution.

And then he looked outside, and he understood. He couldn't even see white. It was gray—the most snow he'd ever seen, caking every window and blocking him inside.

He spent a solid two hours scraping what he could off the windows and away from the door, until he created a pocket of light from the window above the couch and gave up on the rest. The wind at least had died down, the only noise available to him being his breathing and the creaks of the floor as he walked around. The sun was bright and it was above freezing, so he figured that should help melt what little bit he couldn't manage to scrape away. He showered, fought with the fireplace for another twenty-minutes out of pure boredom, and then gave up on that, too, thankful that the house had electric heating and the fireplace was merely for aesthetic purposes if nothing else.

And now, he sits on the couch, mindlessly thumbing through a book he's already read and wishing he had something else to keep him busy. Boredom only leads to wandering thoughts, and whenever he allows them to, they veer off into the inevitable direction of his landlord. Which only makes him more restless.

The very moment her beautiful, swollen and kissed-out lips enter the periphery of his brain, Spencer pushes himself off the couch and forces his legs to do the wandering instead. He doesn't even care where, he just needs to walk.

She'd been avoiding him since then—until she came to visit to have her stitches removed, and then she avoided him again. Their meeting then had been professional and straightforward, she jokingly handed him a ten-dollar bill for his trouble, and then she went home. He'd debated bringing up the kiss, maybe apologizing, but he also didn't want to risk poking the bear when, in the moment, the bear seemed relatively mollified. It was safe to assume they could silently move past it and remain civil, if not friendly, so that's what he did. He never brought it up, and they simply existed in each others' lives as background characters. No harm, no foul.

It admittedly saddens him a little, that familiar glorious fire in his body slowly dying out day by day without her spark to feed it, but... it's also safe. Given his temporary arrangement, that is exactly what he needs; Zero complications.

Still, it hadn't completely prevented his thoughts from wandering... He can't help it.

But damn it, he tries so hard.

Like now, as his feet pace back and forth along the hallway connecting his living room to the two little bedrooms on the opposite side of the cabin home. His eyes scan the oak paneling on the wall, finding it odd that one board is out farther than the others. It's not a vast difference, and to anyone walking down the hallway, it wouldn't stand out at all. But since his eyes are scanning everything with intent, something that small is impossible to unsee once it's been seen.

Spencer comes closer to inspect the wood, running his fingers along the grain when he feels the board shift a little. He presses harder, then tries with both hands to wiggle it out of place as he inspects the entire board from floor to ceiling. Eventually, he notices that the nails holding it in place are extremely rusted and barely holding the board upright.

"She has to have a toolbox hidden in this place somewhere..." he ponders, turning to search.

After finding no luck in any of the cabinets, under the kitchen or bathroom sinks, or in the coat closet, he walks back to the guest bedroom and rummages through all the knitted blankets he's collected. For a while it's like he'd find one every time he entered a new area of the cabin that he hadn't explored. A few of them lay draped over the living room furniture now, but to keep the place organized to his liking, he just haphazardly folded and piled them into the guest bedroom closet, not thinking to see if there had been anything else in there.

Sure enough, once the shelves in there are completely clear of fabric, Spencer looks all the way on the highest one and can see a small pile of something shoved in the back. He reaches for it, hoping for something useful but finding only a stack of—

Books!

Not what he'd come in here for, but he isn't about to complain. Especially since he'd really just been so bored that he went in search of a tool box to fix the most negligible problem this house could possibly have.

He flips one over and sees the words, "Agent of Seduction," embossed over a couple in embrace. There are two more, "Agent of Passion," and, "Agent of Retribution." Their covers are worn and well-loved, pages yellowed and creased, the spines barely readable. As he quickly fans through the pages, expelling the dust from its home between them, he wonders how there are even pages left. It looks (and smells, to be quite frank) like it should be falling apart at the seams.

It doesn't look like what he'd typically reach for, but... It's new. And since he really has nothing else to do...

Spencer sits down on the floor of the closet, nestled between piles of blankets, and opens to the first page of Agent of Seduction.

———

Dear Mom,

Today I might have stumbled onto the scariest story I've ever read. Not because it contains ghosts or horrors so intense that it gives you nightmares, but because of how accurately one major aspect parallels my current situation, as if I don't already feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't entirely believable, especially where the crime-solving aspects are concerned. In fact, it seems like the author had merely watched something on TV and thought, "That doesn't look too hard to make up!" and thus, "Agent of Seduction" was born...

However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get spooked by just about everything else.

The basic premise is that FBI Agent Samuel Stern must go into hiding to protect his identity from one of the most dangerous criminals the Bureau has ever encountered. In creating this brand new life for himself, he meets a woman named Rachel West, who he falls in love with. She's feisty and quick-witted, and when Samuel's past comes straight towards them like a freight train, she refuses to jump out of the way (much to Samuel's annoyance). Their relationship is built solely on fire—mutual attraction and nothing else—but while they're on the run together throughout the three books, they learn to open up and be vulnerable in a way that only enriches their feelings and the desire to truly love and be loved in return.

By now, you already know about my very own Rachel West, my landlord and the woman I can't stop thinking about... A lot of Samuel's inner monologue about her was extremely close to, if not exactly the same as, my inner monologue about Y/N. At one point near the end of the second book, Rachel gets kidnapped, and the final installment follows Samuel's journey to find her and finally exact his revenge on the criminal who has taken everything from him.

Inevitably, this journey leads Samuel to the grand realization that he's in love with Rachel, and after they finally reunite, the two of them live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, it was rather riveting.

Given the obvious major parallel here, you can also probably understand why it's spooked me. The details behind Samuel's "vacation" aren't necessarily the same as my own, but the mere fact that he works for the FBI and is protecting his identity far away from home... That in and of itself is far too much of a coincidence.

I know it's fiction. I know that real life is different from Samuel's... But I saw something in his story and in his relationship with Rachel that filled that hole of misunderstanding deep in my gut, and while I enjoyed myself for the most part, I also, unfortunately, have come to realize that I can never let myself pursue the fire and fall in love with Y/N.

I won't let her be tainted by my real life. Because if evil does, somehow, penetrate the snowy, magical borders of Sardinia and dig its claws into the purity within, there's no telling what I would do.

I can't let it happen.

———

Y/N loves snow days. Surprisingly, Sardinia doesn't see a whole lot of them— not like this anyway. It's rare that the entire town is on standby, but on the occasion that it is, she locks herself away on the back porch and watches the snow fall through the glass. It's cold, but she doesn't mind. She prefers it— hasn't known anything else, nor has she ever longed to.

The sun has started to set, and with the promise of oven-ready lasagna in just a couple of minutes, there isn't anything that could possibly dampen her perfect Sunday.

She only wishes she could figure out where she left her favorite trilogy. On snow days like these, especially back when she was in Junior High (the act of hiding them from her grandmother making the lure of the story even better, of course), reading Agent of Seduction was her favorite pastime. She'd read the entire trilogy back-to-back at least twenty times by this point, so she probably could have had it memorized. In fact, there are scenes that she has memorized, though nothing ever compares to reading them word for word.

At one point a few years ago, she'd accused her grandmother of stealing and selling them, though the woman denied it with a howling laugh. "I never gave a shit about what you read. Hell, if only you knew some of the books I hid from my mother when I was a teenager..."

At the thought of her grandmother, Y/N sighs, wishing she'd had the courage to ask her about them. The memory of cringing and quickly changing the subject is standard and funny, sure, but she hadn't known there wouldn't be much time left to even think about asking those questions.

Now, she doesn't have her grandmother or her favorite trilogy, and all she's left with is an emptiness that she hopes soon to fill with noodles and cheese.

Instead of the oven chime, three loud knocks sound at the front door, jolting her out of her reverie, and Y/N sighs again.

So much for a perfect Sunday...

Who the hell could possibly be knocking on her door today? The whole town is on lockdown... Only an idiot would be brave enough to—

"Doctor?"

Spencer's figure, sure enough, stands before her in a backdrop of golden, glittering white. His coat is caked in snow and he seems to be drowning in layers and layers of scarves, a plastic bag hanging from his hand as he manages a stiff smile; He's freezing.

"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know the entire town is o—"

"On lockdown, yes. I know. But I brought you something."

Her instincts are telling her to usher him inside, but there's a fear that freezes her instead. Once she lets him inside on a snow day, there's no telling how long he'll stay. And those are consequences she would rather not discover today.

"Oh?" is all she can manage.

Spencer holds the bag out and she takes it. "I found these in your—er, my closet. I don't know if they belonged to you or not, but I figured it was a safe bet since it was your house... Anyway, I just... I thought I'd return them."

Opening the bag, hearing him explain, and seeing the familiar tattered cover of her favorite book all at once is like a fever dream. She almost can't believe it. In a whirlwind of emotions, she grabs the doctor by the jacket sleeve and tugs him inside without a sound, and he stumbles through the door with a start.

"What's wrong?"

"You're a fucking wizard."

"Excuse me?"

Her shaking hands gently retrieve the paperbacks from the plastic as he shuts the door behind him. She doesn't even care that he's technically been invited inside now.

Unbeknownst to her, as she fans through the pages just as he had when he found them, the sight brings a gentle smile to his lips.

"I was just thinking about these books a few minutes ago... I used to read them every snow day, over and over again to keep my mind occupied..." Then she laughs, shaking her head. "I thought I'd lost them for good. They were in your closet?"

"Mhm. Guest bedroom, all the way on the top shelf, in the back. I was looking for some blankets, a—"

"You didn't read them, did you?"

Her head snaps up and Spencer blinks at her for a moment before carefully answering, "No."

Something about it feels off to her. They stare at each other now, and suddenly she realizes the gravity of the situation, which is that he stands in her house, claiming not to have read her favorite books (which are sexually explicit in nature), even though his face clearly claims otherwise. He had brought them to her house during a weather lockdown of all days, right after she'd just been thinking about them, and she felt so grateful in the moment that the thought of kissing him on the mouth seemed like the perfect gesture of gratitude.

Obviously, there is only one outcome.

He needs to leave, now, before she does something stupid.

"You probably wouldn't like them anyway."

"Oh?"

The beguiled look on his face practically begs for elaboration, but she's not currently in the business of giving him one.

"Thank you for bringing them to me," she says, hoping to suggest finality and get him out the door. "I haven't had an entire night with no obligations to sit down and read these books in years. I'm way overdue."

He only stares back at her, his gaze unwavering in intensity. If he's disappointed at all, he doesn't show it in the least. She's afraid he might try to banter or take off his jacket, but in the end, the doctor only gives her a gentle nod.

"You're welcome."

A flood of different sensations come racing through her body then, as Spencer turns to leave; Relief that he's relenting, excitement to finally have and hold her favorite story again, hot tension under the residual potency of his staring, and the nagging feeling that whatever wildfire the two of them seem to have made together isn't actually anywhere close to being extinguished.

The door opens, swallowing the doctor in a halo of light, and just before he closes it behind him, he calls over his shoulder, "Enjoy yourself, my dear."

The paperbacks suddenly feel heavy in her hands. She almost drops them to the ground, cursing his name.

------------------------

"Go away!"

Samuel's heart nearly shattered at the crack in her voice. He couldn't bear to witness his dear Rachel and her burning flame slowly dwindle under the suffocation of his true identity. His real life, once again, had attempted to take away everything he held dear to him, and he would be damned if he let it succeed this time.

"Rachel, please! You have to have to understand, I hated having to lie to you!"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" she screeched, whipping around and snarling in his face. Alas, her fire remained, though it was unmistakably fueled by scorching pure rage and not the low-simmering wicked desire he's come to crave and adore. The pain in his heart worsened as she jabbed his chest, a fragile reminder of the new life she's breathed into him and the steady ache to protect it at all costs. "You're just like every other man I've ever met, except you might actually be worse! You put me in danger, and then spared me the details! And for what, so you could play the savior and 'protect' me? Huh?"

"You don't understand..."

"Then make me understand!"

The truth was that he couldn't let her go. No matter how annoyingly stubborn she proved herself to be, Samuel could not resist the warmth that settled in his bones when she touched him. He could not sit back and tell himself that she meant nothing to him when every time she quirked her eyebrow, he felt the overwhelming need to know everything she's ever felt. He wanted to know her. He wanted to experience her, in every single facet.

But he also didn't want his life to destroy her.

"It is killing me... Every day it kills me to know that the man who took everything from me and ruined my life is out there, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it... It kills me to be away from home, and it kills me to have to pretend like I'm not filled with unbridled rage every time I wake up... It kills me to know that I've let myself get attached to someone else, because it just means that's one more thing for him to destroy. But... God, Rachel, you've fucking set this fire in me that I can't put out. You're so sharp and strong and funny and beautiful, and you're so fucking stubborn... You're breaking down every defense I have, piece by piece, and for both of our safety, I should just let it go... But I can't..."

Her hardened stare hadn't eased, but her hands started a slow, gentle ascent over the planes of his stomach, up and up until they rested on his chest.

Samuel pressed one of her hands firmly to his heart. "Do you feel that, Rachel?"

"Your heartbeat?" she asked sarcastically through her teeth, her eyebrow quickly flinching upward.

"Yes. What you're feeling there is your work, and your work alone."

Unsurprisingly, Rachel snorted. Still, her fingers flexed over the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer. "It's not healthy to put all that credit onto someone, you know. It could do irreparable damage."

It was true, but she was being snarky, as always. Which meant she must not have hated him as much as she was letting on.

Samuel took that as a good sign, deciding to allow himself to be cocky. He stared deep into her eyes and brought a hand to her throat, gently grazing it with the back of his knuckle. "So? Tell me I haven't already ruined you beyond repair..."

Rachel hummed and leaned into him, never one to turn down a challenge. "Says the man who just bared his soul out to me with tears in his eyes five seconds ago... Sounds like I'm the one who's ruined you."

Their breaths were so close together now, noses barely touching, Samuel didn't have time to process the look in her eyes before he said, "And now you understand," relenting and kissing her deeply.

She clutched his shirt so hard, he thought she might literally tear it to shreds in front of him as her devilish mouth battled him with a strength of its own. Rachel was fighting, even now, desperate to hold onto that power and control. And that was all fine and good, usually, but Samuel felt it in his bones that this time it was different.

Things between them now were different, and they always would be.

Whether he could put a name to that difference he didn't know, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to really truly understand how important she was to him, without the fight.

She had complete control over him, but she didn't need to prove it.

Samuel could do that on his own.

He backed her into the wall and brought her hands to her sides, inching languid, wet kisses down her jawline. Never in their time together had he been so gentle in control, so slow... Fire left no time for meticulous passion, only quick, sharp lust.

"What are we doing?" she breathed, rolling her body into him. "What is this?"

"I meant it, Rachel," Samuel vowed into her neck, his hand deftly undoing the button of her pants. "You're changing me... Giving me something to live for again..."

A soft gasp escaped her as he slid his hand smoothly down the front of her pants, and he reveled in the sound. The moment his fingers breached her entrance, she melted into him, crying out in a whimper.

"That's right," he sighed into her neck. "Enjoy yourself, my dear..."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #mercy after hours

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rootedinrevisions · 9 months ago

Text

The Tribal Pull: Part 3

SUMMARY: What happens when there is a mix up with your hotel reservation and you're left without a room? Well the Tribal Chief insists you stay in his suite for the night.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

WARNINGS: SMUT (Spanking, Fingering, P in V Sex)

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks again to the person who sent the request for this entire series. It was meant to be one fic but it kind of got carried away from me so I had to break it up! Hope you enjoyed it! xx

The lights of the SummerSlam arena still flicker in your mind as you step through the sliding doors of the hotel lobby, exhausted but exhilarated. It’s been a whirlwind of a night—chaos, excitement, the kind of energy that keeps you on your toes. You had barely managed to grab a bite between assignments, running from one task to the next.

All you want now is to crash in your hotel room, kick off your shoes, and let the tension of the night fade away.

You head to the front desk, handing over your ID with a tired but polite smile. The clerk scans it, typing into the computer, and then frowns.

“I apologize, ma’am. We don’t have a reservation under your name,” she says, her voice uncertain.

You blink, thrown off by her words. “I’m sorry, what? There should definitely be a reservation. WWE booked the room.”

She clicks around on the computer again, muttering something under her breath before looking back up at you, apologetic. “It looks like there was an error with the reservation. We’re completely booked due to the event, so we don’t have any more rooms available.”

You feel your stomach drop. The exhaustion from the day suddenly hits you harder, frustration bubbling up. How could this happen? You’re stuck in a packed hotel in the middle of a major event weekend, with nowhere to stay.

Taking a deep breath, you try to keep your composure. “Is there another hotel nearby that might have a room?”

The clerk shakes her head, her expression apologetic. “I’m afraid not. Most of the hotels around here are fully booked for the weekend. I’m really sorry.”

You run a hand through your hair, mentally going over your options. There aren’t many, and none that seem particularly appealing. You could try calling someone from the WWE team, but it’s so late, and most of them are probably already settled in for the night.

Before you can come up with a solution, a voice cuts through the quiet of the lobby. “Problem with your room?”

Your head snaps up, and your heart skips a beat. Roman is standing just a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you with that same steady, unreadable gaze. He’s in casual clothes—dark jeans, a fitted black shirt that hugs his broad frame—but even dressed down, there’s an undeniable presence about him. The kind of presence that makes people stop and look. And right now, all his attention is on you.

You clear your throat, feeling suddenly flustered in a way you’re not used to. “Yeah, there was a mix-up with the reservation. Mine got lost apparently. And there’s no rooms available.”

Roman looks at the clerk, then back at you. His brows knit together slightly, as if he’s weighing his options. Before you can say anything else, he steps forward, his voice calm and direct.

“I’ve got plenty of room in my suite. You can stay with me.”

The offer hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. The rational part of your brain is screaming that this is a terrible idea, that accepting his offer would blur every professional line you’ve worked so hard to keep in place.

But then there’s the other part of you—the part that’s been aware of Roman’s lingering gazes, the brush of his hand on your shoulder, the way he stands just a little too close. The part that can’t ignore the electric current between you, buzzing just beneath the surface.

You open your mouth, then close it again, hesitating. “I don’t know, Roman. That might not be a good idea.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying you, his expression unreadable. “It’s just for tonight. The suite has plenty of space, and you’ll have your own room. No strings, no pressure.”

It’s a simple offer, said in his usual calm, confident way. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your heart race.

You glance back at the clerk, who is watching the two of you with a hint of curiosity, and suddenly the idea of standing in this lobby any longer feels unbearable.

“Okay,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. “Just for tonight.”

Roman’s eyes flicker with something—satisfaction, maybe, or something deeper—but he doesn’t push. He just nods, gesturing for you to follow him.

As you walk with him to the elevator, the silence between you feels heavier than it ever has before. You can feel the weight of his presence beside you, the heat radiating from him as you both step inside the small space.

The doors close, and for a moment, the two of you are alone in the quiet hum of the elevator. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the sharp lines of his profile, the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly.

Roman presses the button for his floor, and the elevator begins its ascent. The silence stretches out, thick with unspoken tension, until finally, Roman breaks it.

“You’ve still only used my number for work things.”

The statement catches you off guard, and you look up at him, unsure of what to say. “Well… it’s for work, isn’t it?”

He turns to you, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming. “That’s one use for it.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the weight of his words—and the way he’s looking at you—is making it difficult. You try to play it off, forcing a lightness into your tone that you don’t feel. “What else would I use it for?”

There’s a pause, and Roman’s lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. He takes a step closer to you, closing the already small distance between you. His voice drops, low and smooth. “I think you can figure it out.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Roman steps out, leaving you momentarily stunned, rooted to the spot as his words echo in your mind. It takes you a second to recover, to remind yourself to breathe.

You follow him down the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with the weight of what’s just been said—and the unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

The door to Roman’s suite swings open with a quiet click, and he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. You hesitate just a fraction of a second, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. This is it—the line that, once crossed, will change everything. But there’s no turning back now.

You step inside, and your breath catches in your throat. The suite is enormous, more like an apartment than a hotel room. The ceilings are high, the décor sleek and modern, with massive windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline. It feels grand, luxurious, almost unreal.

You can’t help the words that slip out, your disbelief evident. “This is your room?”

Roman chuckles softly behind you, closing the door with a quiet thud. The sound seems to echo in the room, making you hyper-aware of how alone the two of you are. “Perks of being the Tribal Chief,” he says with a smirk.

You glance around again, taking in the plush furniture, the expensive art on the walls, the kind of space that screams power and influence. And suddenly, you feel out of place. Like you don’t belong in a room like this—or in this moment with him.

But Roman makes no such judgments. He moves with the same easy confidence, walking ahead of you, his presence filling the space effortlessly. “Come on,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

You follow him through the suite, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface. He walks past a small kitchen area, a spacious living room with a massive flat-screen TV, and finally, to a hallway that leads to two separate bedrooms. He gestures to the door on the left.

“This one’s yours for the night,” he says.

You step inside and can’t help but feel like this bedroom alone is bigger than your entire apartment. The bed is king-sized, with soft white linens, and the room smells faintly of something clean and expensive. You set your small overnight bag down, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and unease. You’re about to thank him when you turn to see Roman leaning casually in the doorway, his arms crossed, watching you.

His gaze is intense—just like it always is—but there’s something more there now. Something unspoken but heavy, lingering in the air between you.

Your heart starts to race.

“Roman…” you start, but your voice trails off as he pushes away from the doorframe and takes a step toward you. The distance between you feels charged, electric.

“Can I be honest with you?” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the words hit you with the weight of everything you’ve been ignoring, everything you’ve tried to keep professional, distant.

You nod, your throat suddenly dry.

“I want you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy, undeniable. Your breath catches, and you take a small step back, feeling the bed press against the back of your legs. He closes the distance between you slowly, purposefully, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the room.

Every nerve in your body is screaming, warning you that this is the moment where things could go too far. Where everything professional about this relationship dissolves, leaving only the raw chemistry you’ve tried so hard to ignore.

He leans in slightly, just enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “All you have to do is tell me to stop.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat deafening in your ears. You know you should say it—that you should pull away, maintain that careful distance you’ve been trying to keep. But the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his breath so close to your skin, the weight of his gaze locking onto yours—it’s all too much.

You don’t say a word.

The moment stretches out, an eternity of tension and unsaid words, until Roman moves. He closes the last of the space between you, his hand coming up to gently cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushes your cheek, and you hate how your skin tingles beneath his touch, how easily your resolve crumbles.

Then, without another word, he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow at first, deliberate. His lips are soft, warm, and the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you. You can’t help it—the second you feel him, everything else falls away. The worries, the hesitations, the fear of what this might mean. It all dissolves, leaving only this moment, the taste of him, the feel of his hand on your skin.

You hate how easy it is. How easily you lean into him, your body responding before your mind can catch up. Your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, and a soft groan escapes him, vibrating through you.

You don’t know how long the kiss lasts—minutes, hours, days. Time seems to blur, every sense focused on him, on the way his other hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you against him.

When you finally pull away, you’re breathless, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Roman’s forehead presses gently against yours, his breath coming in slow, measured exhales. His hand still cradles your face, thumb brushing over your cheek as if he’s reluctant to let go.

“I hate how easy I made that for you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Roman chuckles softly, a deep, low sound that vibrates through his chest. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You bite your lip, torn between the electric rush of the moment and the flood of reality that’s starting to creep back in. You’re here, in his hotel suite, kissing him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But nothing about this is natural. Nothing about this is easy.

You step back, putting just enough space between you to catch your breath, your mind whirling with everything that’s happened. Roman watches you, his gaze intense but unreadable, his lips still curved into that knowing, confident smile.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice still low, still soft. “All you had to do was tell me to stop.”

The words hang between you, a reminder that you had a choice. That you still do.

Roman’s eyes lock onto yours, a gleam in them that sends a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he leans in again, his lips crashing into yours with a new urgency. The kiss is deeper this time, more consuming, like he’s trying to make up for the time you both spent dancing around this moment. His hand slides into your hair, gripping it just tightly enough to remind you of who’s in control.

And then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, his voice rough with desire, “I’m going to show you what it’s like being with the top guy tonight”

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him crawl onto the bed, his powerful frame sinking into the pillows as he leans back against the headboard. He’s completely in control, his confidence radiating off him in waves. With a lazy smile, he lifts a finger, beckoning you toward him.

You hesitate, still in the pencil skirt and button-up shirt you’ve been wearing all day, feeling the sudden rush of heat at the intensity in his gaze. Your breath catches, torn between the want building inside you and the uncertainty of taking this further.

Roman notices your hesitation. His smile deepens, and this time, his voice is commanding. “Come here.”

Something about the way he says it—so sure, so authoritative—sends a thrill through you. He pats his lap, letting you know exactly where he wants you.

You open your mouth to protest, pointing to your skirt with a faint laugh. “My skirt makes that… a little difficult.”

His chuckle is deep, amused, but there’s nothing playful about the way his eyes darken. “We’ll fix that.”

Without missing a beat, he reaches down, his hands rough against the fabric as he pushes your skirt up your thighs, inch by inch, until it’s gathered around your waist. You can feel how exposed you are, how dangerously high the skirt has been pushed. The thought of him possibly seeing your underwear sends a flush of heat to your cheeks, but it also ignites something inside you—something you can’t control.

Roman pulls you onto his lap, his hands firm on your hips as he positions you exactly where he wants you. The moment you’re settled, he captures your lips again, this time more demanding. His kiss is intense, like he’s claiming you, leaving no room for doubt.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is low, husky, as he whispers against your lips, “I’m going to undress you and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

Your pulse races, the sheer dominance in his words sending a bolt of desire through you. And then he gives you an out, his breath warm on your skin as he murmurs, “This is your chance to say something if you don’t want this.”

But you can’t say anything. Not when you want it more than anything in that moment. Your silence is all the permission he needs.

Roman’s hands move to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it free from where it’s tucked into your skirt. His fingers make quick work of the buttons, one by one, until your shirt is hanging open. With one swift movement, he pushes it down your arms, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Stand up,” he orders, his voice like gravel, rough with want. “Take the skirt off. Real slow for me.”

Your heart pounds as you follow his command, rising to your feet. You turn your back to him, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for the buttons of your skirt. You try to move with purpose, unbuttoning it slowly, hoping to make it as sensual as possible, though part of you isn’t sure if it’s working. You push the skirt down your legs, feeling every inch of skin as it’s revealed, until it pools at your feet.

You take a deep breath before turning back around, standing there in nothing but your bra and underwear. The tension in the room is palpable, every second stretching out as Roman’s eyes rake over you. The air between you feels heavy, charged with something that’s been building for far too long.

And then you see it—the undeniable hunger in Roman’s gaze. His whole demeanor shifts, his posture tensing, his pupils dilating as his eyes darken with desire. There’s no hiding it now. He wants you.

“Come here,” he murmurs again, his voice softer this time, but no less commanding.

You take a step toward him, feeling the heat of his gaze on every inch of your exposed skin. The moment you’re close enough, he pulls you back onto his lap, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding up your back. He kisses you again, hard, his lips bruising against yours as he claims you with every movement.

His hands explore your body, every touch igniting your skin. There’s no going back now. The line has been crossed, and all you can think about is him—how his touch makes you feel, how badly you want him.

Roman’s lips leave yours, and he leans down to your ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “You want this right, baby girl?”

You don’t say anything, but nod, letting him know he has your consent.

Your heart races as you sit in Roman’s lap, the heat between you nearly unbearable. His hands are still on your hips, his grip firm but not painful, grounding you in the moment. You break away from another kiss for a second, your breathing shallow as you look down at him, your eyes roaming over his broad chest. The black t-shirt he’s wearing stretches over his muscles, and for a moment, you can’t help but imagine what’s underneath.

Your hands move before you can stop them, resting on his chest. The fabric of his shirt is soft beneath your fingertips, but what you really want is to feel him—his skin, his strength. You run your hands over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath, and Roman’s breath hitches slightly in response. His eyes are on you, intense and knowing. He’s fully aware of what you want, and the thought makes your pulse quicken even more.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans closer, his voice low and filled with that commanding edge that sends shivers down your spine. “Take it off.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you swallow hard. You hesitate for just a second, but the look in Roman’s eyes—dark and unwavering—tells you that he’s not asking. He’s telling. You want this. You want him.

With trembling fingers, you reach for the hem of his shirt. Slowly, you begin to pull it up, revealing more of his skin inch by inch. As the fabric lifts, you’re met with the sight of his sculpted abs, the hard lines of his torso making your breath catch in your throat. You push the shirt up further, and Roman raises his arms just enough for you to pull it over his head. You toss it to the side, the shirt forgotten the second it leaves your hands.

Now that he’s shirtless in front of you, it’s hard to think about anything else. His skin is warm beneath your hands, his muscles flexing slightly as you explore his chest. He watches you, letting you take your time, but there’s a tension in his posture, like he’s holding back.

Roman leans forward, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you like what you see?”

You can only nod, your throat too tight to speak. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and all you can think about is how much you want him. How close you are to giving in completely.

His lips graze your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin as his hands move to your hips, pulling you closer. “Then keep going.” His voice is a low growl, and the command in his tone makes your stomach flutter.

With a deep breath, you lean into him, your hands tracing every inch of his chest, your fingers brushing over the hard ridges of his muscles. You’re mesmerized by him, completely caught up in the way he feels beneath your touch.

Roman’s hands tighten on your hips, and when he kisses you again, it’s deeper, more insistent, like he’s finally letting go of the restraint he’s been holding onto all night. There’s no more hesitation, no more boundaries. Just the two of you, tangled together, the heat between you impossible to ignore.

“You’re going to regret how easy you’re making this for me,” Roman murmurs against your lips, a teasing edge to his voice. But the truth is, you don’t care anymore. You want him, and there’s no use pretending otherwise.

This is what you both want.

You meet Roman’s gaze, the heat between you palpable, but something stirs inside you—a playful defiance that you hadn’t expected. He’s used to being in control, used to people doing exactly what he says without question.

But something about the way he commands you, the confidence in his voice, makes you want to push back just a little. You want to see how he reacts when you don’t play by his rules.

He leans in again, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and commanding. “Take off the rest.”

For a moment, you stay perfectly still, your heart racing at the authority in his voice. But instead of obeying like he expects, a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, and you lean back slightly, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. “And if I don’t?”

Roman’s eyes darken instantly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping his throat. It’s a sound that sends shivers down your spine, but you don’t break eye contact. He’s not used to being challenged, and you can see the surprise flicker in his gaze for just a second before it’s replaced with something more dangerous—something that sends a thrill through you.

He shifts beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he straightens up slightly, his face mere inches from yours. His voice drops even lower, a velvety growl that makes your pulse race. “You think you can defy me?”

You can feel the tension radiating off him, his dominant presence filling the room as he watches you, waiting for your next move. You know you’ve crossed a line, one that you can’t come back from, but there’s something thrilling about it, something intoxicating about pushing the limits with him.

When you don’t respond, when you keep that same challenging look on your face, Roman’s expression shifts, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his lips.

He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You can either do what I say, or I’ll make you do it.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, the promise in his voice clear. Roman Reigns isn’t a man who takes defiance lightly, and the idea of him taking control, of him making you submit, has you breathless. You’re caught in the moment, the chemistry between you crackling like electricity in the air.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze burning into yours, daring you to defy him again.

“So, what’s it going to be?” he asks, his voice a low, dangerous growl that makes your stomach flip. “Are you going to be a good girl, or do I have to show you what happens when you’re not?”

You swallow hard, the tension between you unbearable. Part of you wants to keep pushing, to see just how far he’ll go. But the other part of you—the part that’s aching with need, that’s craving his touch—knows exactly what you want.

But you’re not going to make it that easy for him. Not yet.

You hold Roman's gaze, still feeling that spark of defiance flickering inside you. Instead of giving in and doing what he commands, you lean back slightly, crossing your arms in a way that feels both deliberate and provocative. “I think I’ll take my chances,” you murmur, your voice teasing.

Roman’s eyes narrow, and that dark smile only grows wider. There’s a flicker of amusement there, but also something far more intense—a promise that you’ve pushed him exactly to where he wants to be.

Without a word, he slides off the bed and stands, his imposing frame towering over you. The air in the room shifts, thickening with an energy that makes your breath hitch. He’s calm—too calm, even as his dark eyes glint with something dangerously seductive.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Roman mutters, stepping closer, his hand slowly reaching out to tilt your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, the touch deceptively gentle, but his voice hardens. “You’re going to regret that.”

Before you can respond, he pulls his hand away and gestures for you to stand up. You hesitate for a second, the tension mounting, but the way he stares at you—like he’s in complete control—has your pulse racing. Reluctantly, you rise from the bed, the space between you now charged with a dangerous kind of anticipation.

Roman takes his time circling you, like a predator stalking its prey. He stops behind you, his chest so close to your back that you can feel the heat radiating from him. Slowly, he leans down, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks, “You wanted to challenge me... now you’ll see what happens.”

Before you can process what’s coming next, Roman’s large hand lands a firm slap against your backside, the sudden sting making you gasp. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, sharp and unexpected, but Roman’s presence keeps you anchored in place.

“That’s for not listening.” His voice is low, vibrating with authority as he delivers another swift smack, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. “You think you can challenge me without consequences?”

He continues, each word punctuated by another sharp, firm slap, his dominance growing with each strike. You bite your lip, struggling to hold back the small whimper that’s building in your throat. The mix of pleasure and pain is intoxicating, your body betraying your mind as you start to feel the heat pooling between your legs.

Roman doesn’t stop until he’s sure he has your attention, until your breath is ragged and you’re completely at his mercy. When he finally does, he steps around to face you again, his expression calm but commanding, his eyes dark with desire.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Now,” he says, his voice low and dripping with authority, “are you ready to be a good girl, or do I need to remind you again?”

You can’t hold back the soft, breathless whisper that escapes you. “Yes.”

Roman’s grip on your chin tightens, just enough to make your heart race. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, but just before he pulls away, he whispers against your mouth, “You’re mine now.”

His hands then moved to your waist, turning you around so you were facing away from him. His hand moved up your sides to your back before he placed a hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down onto the bed. You got on all fours in front of him as you felt his hand moving along your ass.

His hands then grabbed your hips and pulled you back against him. You could feel his bulge through his denim jeans, and you let out a soft moan at the thought of him inside you.

One of his hands ran over the curve of your ass before he slid a finger in between your folds.

“S-shit,” you moaned.

“So wet for me, baby girl,” he said as you felt him slide a finger into you.

He pumped that finger in and out a few times before sliding another one, and then a third. His thumb moved to your clit. Soft whimpers left your mouth as he began edging you closer to your climax.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop the moans from coming out. The last thing you needed was a colleague to over hear your little rendezvous with Roman.

“Uh uh. Don’t bite that lip. I want to hear you, baby girl.” Roman said from behind you.

You let go of your bottom lip and Roman pumped his fingers into you again, the tips brushing against that spot inside you. A load moan came from your lips as you closed your eyes.

“That’s it, let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You felt the bed dip as Roman crawled onto the bed behind you. You glanced back and noticed he had taken off his jeans and underwear and was now completely undressed. Your eyes didn’t have nearly long enough to admire him before he placed his tip at your entrance.

He pushed himself slowly into you until he was filling you up.

“Jesus, you’re fucking tight,” he groaned before he pulled out. He then thrust back into you, causing a cry to leave your lips. “Mmmm that’s right baby. Let everyone on this floor know how good I’m making you feel.”

His grip on your hips tightened and he started pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, causing him to go even deeper inside of you.

“S-shit!” You cried out as you felt a knot in your stomach beginning to tighten.

“Don’t do it, baby girl. You hold it.” Roman said in an almost growl as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. “You don’t come until I let you.”

You began to clench around him as you tried to hold off your orgasm, but you knew you wouldn’t last long. You were so close.

“F-fuck…gonna come,” Roman grunted. “So close.”

Finally he gave you permission and you whimpered as your orgasm washed over you and your walls clenched around him. A thrust or two later and you felt him finish too, him pulling out at the last second and his seed going onto the white duvet on the bed.

As you and Roman both took the time to catch your breaths, the energy in the room and between you and Roman shifts. The intensity that had been driving the night so far fades, replaced by a calm quiet.

“Let’s head to the other room. Can’t have my girl sleeping on a dirty bed.”

You groaned, not wanting to get up. Roman chuckled before picking you up and carrying you out of the room. He makes his way into the main room of the suite–his room. Your eyes take in the room that is somehow bigger than the one he was loaning you.

He gently lays you down on the bed, your head quickly finding comfort in the pillows. He then make his way around the bed before crawling into the other side beside you.

Roman's breath is steady beside you as he reaches for the blanket, pulling it up over your body with a tenderness that catches you off guard. His dominant persona, the one that had commanded the room and your attention just moments before, is nowhere to be found. In its place is someone gentler, someone who’s taking his time to make sure you’re okay.

“You good?” he asks quietly, his voice deep but softer than before. You nod, still catching your breath, but Roman doesn’t seem satisfied with that. He sits up a little, scanning your face, making sure you’re truly okay. “You need anything?”

You shake your head, still processing the change in him, the tenderness you weren’t sure he even had.

He leans over the side of the bed, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you. “Here. Drink this,” he insists, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he passes it to you.

You take a sip, and his eyes stay on you, watching carefully, as if making sure you’re well taken care of.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, sounding almost parental in his concern.

You hesitate, not really wanting to admit you haven’t, but he catches the slight shake of your head.

Roman sighs, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Of course you haven’t,” he teases, though there’s warmth in his tone. He reaches over for his phone. “What do you want? I’m ordering you something.”

You protest half-heartedly, but he’s not having it. “No arguments. Just tell me what you like,” he says, the assertiveness back in his voice, though not in a way that feels controlling—more like he wants to take care of you, and he’s not letting you stop him.

You murmur a response, listing off a few of your favorite foods, and he nods, scrolling through a delivery app. “I’ll get a few things,” he says, glancing at you again. “You need to eat something.”

The whole interaction leaves you feeling a little stunned. The Roman Reigns who had dominated every interaction before, both at work and tonight, is now gently fussing over you, making sure you're comfortable, hydrated, and well-fed. It’s a side of him you hadn’t expected, and it leaves you with a warmth spreading in your chest that’s different from anything you’ve felt before with him.

As he settles back into the bed beside you, you can feel the weight of what just happened, but also the surprising softness in the way Roman is treating you. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest, his fingers trailing lightly along your arm in a soothing gesture. The shift from dominance to care is seamless, and it’s clear he’s not just putting on an act—he genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay.

"Anything else you need?" he asks again, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead.

When you shake your head, he pulls you in even closer.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice deep and warm. "Just relax. I've got you."

#Roman Reigns #Roman Reigns Fanfiction #Roman Reigns Fanfic #Roman Reigns x reader #Roman Reigns x you #WWE Fanfiction #WWE Fanfic

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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These days, when Nicole Yelland receives a meeting request from someone she doesn’t already know, she conducts a multi-step background check before deciding whether to accept. Yelland, who works in public relations for a Detroit-based non-profit, says she’ll run the person’s information through Spokeo, a personal data aggregator that she pays a monthly subscription fee to use. If the contact claims to speak Spanish, Yelland says, she will casually test their ability to understand and translate trickier phrases. If something doesn’t quite seem right, she’ll ask the person to join a Microsoft Teams call—with their camera on.

If Yelland sounds paranoid, that’s because she is. In January, before she started her current non-profit role, Yelland says she got roped into an elaborate scam targeting job seekers. “Now, I do the whole verification rigamarole any time someone reaches out to me,” she tells WIRED.

Digital imposter scams aren’t new; messaging platforms, social media sites, and dating apps have long been rife with fakery. In a time when remote work and distributed teams have become commonplace, professional communications channels are no longer safe, either. The same artificial intelligence tools that tech companies promise will boost worker productivity are also making it easier for criminals and fraudsters to construct fake personas in seconds.

On LinkedIn, it can be hard to distinguish a slightly touched-up headshot of a real person from a too-polished, AI-generated facsimile. Deepfake videos are getting so good that longtime email scammers are pivoting to impersonating people on live video calls. According to the US Federal Trade Commission, reports of job and employment related scams nearly tripled from 2020 to 2024, and actual losses from those scams have increased from $90 million to $500 million.

Yelland says the scammers that approached her back in January were impersonating a real company, one with a legitimate product. The “hiring manager” she corresponded with over email also seemed legit, even sharing a slide deck outlining the responsibilities of the role they were advertising. But during the first video interview, Yelland says, the scammers refused to turn their cameras on during a Microsoft Teams meeting and made unusual requests for detailed personal information, including her driver’s license number. Realizing she’d been duped, Yelland slammed her laptop shut.

These kinds of schemes have become so widespread that AI startups have emerged promising to detect other AI-enabled deepfakes, including GetReal Labs, and Reality Defender. OpenAI CEO Sam Altman also runs an identity-verification startup called Tools for Humanity, which makes eye-scanning devices that capture a person’s biometric data, create a unique identifier for their identity, and store that information on the blockchain. The whole idea behind it is proving “personhood,” or that someone is a real human. (Lots of people working on blockchain technology say that blockchain is the solution for identity verification.)

But some corporate professionals are turning instead to old-fashioned social engineering techniques to verify every fishy-seeming interaction they have. Welcome to the Age of Paranoia, when someone might ask you to send them an email while you’re mid-conversation on the phone, slide into your Instagram DMs to ensure the LinkedIn message you sent was really from you, or request you text a selfie with a timestamp, proving you are who you claim to be. Some colleagues say they even share code words with each other, so they have a way to ensure they’re not being misled if an encounter feels off.

“What’s funny is, the low-fi approach works,” says Daniel Goldman, a blockchain software engineer and former startup founder. Goldman says he began changing his own behavior after he heard a prominent figure in the crypto world had been convincingly deepfaked on a video call. “It put the fear of god in me,” he says. Afterwards, he warned his family and friends that even if they hear what they believe is his voice or see him on a video call asking for something concrete—like money or an internet password—they should hang up and email him first before doing anything.

Ken Schumacher, founder of the recruitment verification service Ropes, says he’s worked with hiring managers who ask job candidates rapid-fire questions about the city where they claim to live on their resume, such as their favorite coffee shops and places to hang out. If the applicant is actually based in that geographic region, Schumacher says, they should be able to respond quickly with accurate details.

Another verification tactic some people use, Schumacher says, is what he calls the “phone camera trick.” If someone suspects the person they’re talking to over video chat is being deceitful, they can ask them to hold up their phone camera to their laptop. The idea is to verify whether the individual may be running deepfake technology on their computer, obscuring their true identity or surroundings. But it’s safe to say this approach can also be off-putting: Honest job candidates may be hesitant to show off the inside of their homes or offices, or worry a hiring manager is trying to learn details about their personal lives.

“Everyone is on edge and wary of each other now,” Schumacher says.

While turning yourself into a human captcha may be a fairly effective approach to operational security, even the most paranoid admit these checks create an atmosphere of distrust before two parties have even had the chance to really connect. They can also be a huge time suck. “I feel like something’s gotta give,” Yelland says. “I’m wasting so much time at work just trying to figure out if people are real.”

Jessica Eise, an assistant professor studying climate change and social behavior at Indiana University-Bloomington, says that her research team has been forced to essentially become digital forensics experts, due to the amount of fraudsters who respond to ads for paid virtual surveys. (Scammers aren’t as interested in the unpaid surveys, unsurprisingly.) If the research project is federally funded, all of the online participants have to be over the age of 18 and living in the US.

“My team would check time stamps for when participants answered emails, and if the timing was suspicious, we could guess they might be in a different time zone,” Eise says. “Then we’d look for other clues we came to recognize, like certain formats of email address or incoherent demographic data.”

Eise says the amount of time her team spent screening people was “exorbitant,” and that they’ve now shrunk the size of the cohort for each study and have turned to “snowball sampling” or having recruiting people they know personally to join their studies. The researchers are also handing out more physical flyers to solicit participants in person. “We care a lot about making sure that our data has integrity, that we’re studying who we say we’re trying to study,” she says. “I don’t think there’s an easy solution to this.”

Barring any widespread technical solution, a little common sense can go a long way in spotting bad actors. Yelland shared with me the slide deck that she received as part of the fake job pitch. At first glance, it seemed like legit pitch, but when she looked at it again, a few details stood out. The job promised to pay substantially more than the average salary for a similar role in her location, and offered unlimited vacation time, generous paid parental leave, and fully-covered health care benefits. In today’s job environment, that might have been the biggest tipoff of all that it was a scam.

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plurapony · 6 months ago

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alright so there's a lot!! of talk about diagnosis and doctor's in syscourse recently! and some of y'all are just sucking the dick of every doctor that's ever existed im ngl /hj

i had a doctor appointment today with a new doctor and i had an appointment that put a lot of shit into perspective. see i have chronic back pain that doctor's can't really figure out, it's been a year and a half!!!! since my injury and since ive been trying to find a solution. ive done xrays and SO many appointments with no clear solution and just to be told i need to do psyhio.

like. i am in so much fucking pain on a daily basis. i just want doctors to help me find a solution!!! my doctor today immediately asked why i haven't had a CT scan and that my previous diagnosis of lower back scoliosis wasn't even a proper diagnostic term!!!! so tell me why the fuck i go to the doctors and even though i am doing everything im told to by the professionals im doing it wrong, because i was given the wrong information.

doctors are not martyrs and some of them are really fucking bad at their jobs!!!! if someone says they had a bad experience with a doctor or any medical professional don't fucking side with the doctor??? be more skeptical guys pls. everyone deserves to be properly listened to and they don't deserve to be treated like shit just so some asshole with a degree can get their paycheck without doing any work.

there's nuance to diagnosis, there's a story behind every opinion regarding pro educated self diagnosis, there's experience and there's REASONING. if you're gonna be an ass and dismiss all of that then you're part of the problem tbh!!!

#syscourse #did system #did #did osdd #system #actually did #actually plural #osdd system #osdd #syspunk #systempunk #pluralpunk #cdd #cdd system #cdd community #polyfrag #psych critical

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moonsaver · 1 year ago

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Wahh I'm back haha, don't worry about messing up the request it happens! I still loved it the other way around!

Im so sorry anon, im delirious from lack of sleep and didnt read your request right. I hope this will be okay, <33

Sunday is usually busy, so when on this specific day, when you insist on meeting up with him in the middle of his schedule, he's a bit irked.

He imagines its most likely something important, or you needed something that only he could provide (which could only be done in private, behind doors).

So he's very sure to clear out people from the vicinity of his office, telling them he'll be alright and hastily shoo-ing them away in the most professional manner.

And then.. you show up, with a cheeky grin and a heart-shaped box. Curious.

And you set down the chocolate on his desk, almost humorously contrasting to his very well kept desk. You explain Valentine's to him and he understands, mainly because it's a bit of his duty to keep tabs on festivities, even of other planets.

And he offers you to sit down, asks you about it in more detail, while curiously scanning the box. He doesn't realise you made it yourself until you drop it in the middle of conversation, and he stays still for a moment, deep in thought, before a loving smile breaks out on his face.

Sunday appreciates any effort from you so much. He knows he's not exactly easy to love, especially because you have to do it from a distance most of the time. So he appreciates it so so much. He's already thinking of all the ways he wants to pay you back – not because he sees it as a transaction, but rather he wants to let you know he sees your efforts and wants to return them, too.

Lovingly guides you to sit you down beside him, and feeds you a piece of chocolate first, and then eats it himself. Very neatly picks it up, careful to make sure it doesnt melt on his gloves, and it doesn't get on your face. Wipes off any excess bits on your face and compliments the flavors, tells you about how popular they are, flavors that are particularly favored from certain worlds, and all sorts of things. He wraps up the box neatly and insists you wait for a bit outside his office, tenderly kissing your forehead.

After a few moments of quiet shuffling, his door clicks open, as he gives you a very beautifully sealed letter. He says it was supposed to be for another occasion, and he had to rush the writing a bit at the end, but most of it was completed, and stamped perfectly. The letter is about 3 pages long, and full of well-wishes, and feelings Sunday probably wouldn't be able to tell you directly face to face. He kisses your hand and tells you he'll make some time for you another day, and make up for the time he couldn't spend today.

He listens to your quiet footsteps shuffle down the hallway, further away from his office, and once he's sure you're gone, he sighs, sitting down in his office chair. He sits deeply in thought, and anyone walking in would have thought he was in deep trouble, trying to find a solution for an extremely multifaceted and complex issue.. when really, he's thinking about just how dangerously he's wrapped around your finger. Perhaps he prefers it that way?

#moonink #hsr #hsr sunday #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #hsr x you #hsr sunday x y/n #hsr sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday hsr

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quirkwizard · 11 months ago

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Hi! Since you’ve done a list of Quirks good for doctors with Quirks of the manga, how about what Original Quirks of yours would be great for a doctor/nurse/medic aside from the healing Quirks of yours.

To expand on the no healing Quirks caveat, I won't include Quirks that can heavily influence the body, such as with "Needle" or "Intradermal" Once again, "Sleepless" is going to be the best options for any and all medical professional.

Aside from the amount of healing Quirks I've done, there are plenty of ways you could go at it. "Stabilizer" could help someone who is about to die and to keep them from dying. "Throw Pillow" can keep people clam and help them rest to help them recover. "Lie Detector" make sure that every patient is being honest with you. "Gene Study" could help the doctor under not only their patient's body, but their family's history of health as well. "Placebo" could work as a temporary solution to problems or to ease people's worries about their condition. "Pixies" helps in figuring out what people have the worst condition and helps the user monitor them at all times. "Director" could perform complex tasks like surgery with perfect precisions with less risk of human error. "Polymath" works to cover the immense number of knowledge and skills that are required to work in medicine. "Hazmat" can clean infections and keep anything sterile no matter where the user is. "Deep Think" could help them consider all potential options and outcomes in life or death moments. "Check Up" could cover the various scans and tests could do with need without all that equipment. All that being said, "Surgical" is obviously the best one since gives the user total control over medical equipment.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Original Quirk

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yellowf1nch · 3 months ago

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Warning: discussion of heavy topics related to the military, consumption of alcohol/tobacco

John Price/reader

Note: this iteration of you works for a tangential organization to the military, like MI6, Interpol, or CIA/FBI, and you have been working alongside a number of units, such as the 141 for about a year. Your relationship with everyone (mentioned or not) is professional.

It never got easier, your line of work. Taking up manhunts was sometimes the better part, almost enjoyable, compared to the undermining of particular officials or sorting through social media data. And that's not considering the thousands of files of missing persons, or the Jane and John Does you have yet to identify from where they ended up as unidentifiable victims far from home. But you aren't alone, only one of a sizable number of coworkers just like you. Trained to use the handgun stuck on your hip, but confined to mostly desk work and staring at a computer screen for the better part of the day. But the work you do is important, seeing that the worst of the world is dealt with as much as possible; global problems that require global solutions. Sometimes you feel like a hero, and sometimes you know the "terrorists" you're tracking down are trying to take a stand against their own oppressors.

Nuance is a word you have become far too intimate with, and you do your best to keep your head above water.

An upcoming operation has pushed you and your cohorts to scanning text chains that some third party corporation had no qualms handing over. It wouldn't be taking so much time, if it weren't for the thousands of pages you have to scan, just to find mentions of the people and places you need to find, to then take those mentions and work backwards through the username and their online presence. Thankfully, though, you started keeping a sharp eye on the clock and as soon as it was time to punch your card, you packed up ready to leave.

You make your way down the hall, a few stops on the way for clerical purposes, most officials and officers elsewhere this late in the evening. You pass light bleeding out from under the door of-- Capt. John Price as the placard dictates. A fair man, pragmatic. Not one to waste time, and certainly not one to allow it from others. At least, this is what you've understood of his character from what little interactions you've had. Honorable comes to mind. You've heard odd mentions of his name in passing, from merits of skill or discipline to... well... with your job consisting mostly of paperwork, you know that for all he seems to be business first, the man has quite the reputation of not doing things by the books. And given how bureaucratic most larger militaries run, bending around the paperwork (regardless of intention) makes many people's lives harder. Like yours.

But you make yourself likeable, mostly without trying, by not stepping on anyone's toes. Not to the point of being a doormat, but you just don't bother anyone. Keep to yourself. For as much as you find loneliness creep in, the payoff is you don't have to deal with the people who think this kind of work is fun. The people who enlist so they have an excuse to be violent. The people who get their badge so they can collect information on whoever they want. The people who climb the ladder of success so they can keep their friends out of trouble. Often, you know, the people you should be locking away are the ones looking over your shoulder.

Your hand raises, as if to knock, but is held there-- you don't want to bother him. Maybe he wants to be alone. But he isn't usually here so late. No, you're not sure where he goes off to but you're sure he's got people to go for drinks with, or crosswords to complete. He seems like the kind of person who would like a challenging crossword; though you know he was all military, never went to university. Your knuckles hit the wood softly, shocking you but you think it was soft enough to not have been heard. A few moments pass, and you decide to knock more firmly this time, still soft but noticeable. You hear a raspy voice call you inside.

Opening the door, taking stock of Captain Price's office in the dim light of his desk lamp, the man himself sat at a worn leather chair behind his desk piled with papers, books, files, pens, notepads, his reading glasses and other office supplies. His forearms rest on the desktop, hands loosely curled around a pen and paper respectively, eyes glancing up at you once you peek around the door.

"I don't mean to bother you, sir," you're not sure your voice carries, the quiet of the room and hallway feels like something you shouldn't disturb.

"Do you need something?" His voice isn't exactly curt, but the tone doesn't invite you further into the room.

"You aren't usually here so late, is there anything I can help you with before I leave?" His gaze somewhat softens, and drops back to the paper in front of him.

"No, thank you."

"Alright," you start, moving back out the door before pausing. "Are... are you sure? Do you, sorry, I don't mean to overstep, but, do you need someone to talk to?" His eyes drag upwards to yours again. Brow raised in a silent question, but his mouth doesn't move. "I- sorry- if you want to be alone, I understand, but," slowly, you make your way to the front of his desk, "you aren't wearing your glasses," and once up close, you eye a glass with some kind of liquid-- alcohol, you presume-- behind one of the stacks of papers. "I just... wanted to offer, y'know. Uh- I swear anything I'm told stays with me. I'm very good at keeping things off the record."

"Off the record, eh?" John huffs, eyes scrutinizing you as he leans back in his chair.

"Well, I mean, if it's something really personal. If it's work related I would throw in a disclaimer that I would only spill the beans if I felt something you said could cause significant harm to somebody. But again, if you want me to leave, if you want to be alone, or if I'm drawing the wrong kinds of assumptions, I'm more than happy to go. Just say the word." John sighs, then reaches for his glass. His eyes crinkle as he regards you, and he gestures subtly to one of the chairs on your side of the desk. You take a seat.

"Care for a drink?" He says.

"No, thank you, I'll be driving myself home, so,"

"Hm."

A moment passed in silence, you try not to stare at him waiting for him to speak, instead looking around his office with more attention than your previous cursory glances during work. You notice frames with older pictures inside.

"Who's that picture, there?" You point at the photo on a bookshelf against one side of the room. John looks over to where you point, then takes a sip from his glass.

"Grandad. That's him with his mates on base, 1940."

"Hm, so military runs in the family?" He chuckles softly at your question.

"Guess you could say that. Dad served, too."

"And now you?" He gives you a small smile, which you return. "Y'know when I was younger I was the kind of kid who hated the military," you cast your eyes down, staring absentmindedly at his glass that now sits in front of him, his hand loosely holding it. "I was just mad, I think, like most kids are at a certain point. And you learn about all the bad things the military has done, especially from a country that has a history of doing bad things. And a lot of the time people who think that those bad things are the right thing to do place the military on this high pedestal. Everyone who is military becomes venerated...

...And over time, my distaste for the institution spread to all the soldiers. Didn't hurt to hear about the kinds of things soldiers do to prisoners of war, or what they do the people in the places they're stationed at. It took me a while to fix that. Random conversation I had one day with someone, and I realized how unfair I was being. I still hate the institution, but, I've corrected myself that not all the people are bad," you look up, and meet John's eyes. He doesn't wear any noticable expression, but he looks intently at you. "Your turn," you supply gently. John considers you for a moment, thumbing at the lip of his glass.

"Lost a good man today," he starts, "one of the best." You don't say anything, just gently place your hands next to his, upturned but otherwise still. "Lost a lot of innocent people, too. Can't really be helped sometimes, cause if you don't get the target they'll do worse. Feels like I'm the bloody lesser of two evils."

You try to think of something to say, but, you can't even think of anything in particular. John seems to be done speaking at the moment, lifting his glass before your hand wraps around his wrist. He looks almost offended at you, brow creasing in confusion.

"Sorry," shame washes the back of your mouth, "I grew up being taught you shouldn't drink when you feel bad," you let go of his wrist, "that was inappropriate of me to do."

A heavy sigh releases through his nose, some papers lifting from the force of his exhale. John drops his head, the hand with the glass roughly brought back to the table, the other brought up to wipe his brow. You hear his breath stutter, and the sound of small taps which you realize a moment later are tears hitting the desk. You hesitate, not anticipating this to happen, but decide on standing and rounding the desk, directing both of his arms around you and bending so his head is tucked into your neck. One of your hands stays firm on his upper back, the other runs up and down his spine to soothe him. His stutters turn to sobs, and though they are muffled by your shoulder, they are kept at a low enough volume.

Many moments pass like that, time irrelevant to the both of you as you embrace. Eventually, his breathing slows, stabilizing enough for you to pull back and look at him. His eyes, red and puffy meet yours. Snot and drool get caught in his whiskers, he looks for a box of tissues that you spot on a shelf behind him, handing them over and earning a small "thank you" under his breath.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, which he seems content to leave for the moment. "Sorry about your shirt," he grumbles, eyes fixed on the box of tissues he fiddles with.

"It's just a shirt." You absentmindedly rub his shoulder, still standing beside him. "I could stand here and rattle off all kinds of thoughtful, philosophical things, but at the end of the day- uh- Captain Pri--"

"John, is fine."

"John. At the end of the day, John, you're just as human as anybody else."

"Mm, just as bad as everyone else?"

"No. But not as good either. It's not about bad or good, just doing the next right thing."

"Hm. Well, I think I owe you for your company." You look up at the clock on the wall.

"I think there's some ice cream places open still, if you'd like? It's not like you're going to do your work for once," you gesture down at the piles of paper, smirking to yourself when John looks up at you, almost cross, before his lips purse trying to hide his smile.

#john price #john price x reader #cod mw2 #light angst #maybe military inaccuracies #maybe hot takes on the military

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lyatudor · 4 months ago

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The story collector

Chapter 10 - Remembrance

A story inspired by real events, dreams or more.

Warning 🔞⚠️: Dark horror stories with elements of death, decay, sex, drugs, alcohol, suicide, religion and overall spook factor for your reading pleasure.

Pouring a drink into an empty glass, eyes cast across the room, people sitting in pairs talking away, small groups here and there. Some sit, a couple leaning against a wall, but your ears do not quite catch the conversation being had, however the man takes out his phone and types away, both going “AH” as if they were trying to remember something and the only solution after multiple failed attempts was a quick browse on the internet to solve the mystery.

Outside you can see the smokers through a window, chatting away with a drink in hand, stifling laughter as they converse, but try to not be too loud as to bother the people close by who just came out for a breath of fresh air.

The open door lets in a cool breeze before it shuts again, sounds from the chatty smoker group sounding muffled.

Taking a sip, attention is drawn to a group of friends to the left, barely able to contain laughter, one shorting loudly before saying “I forgot how crazy we used to be, damn.” Body turned to them, a smile is offered as they continue, taking it as encouragement “Do you remember that one time we left for the mountains. What was it?”

“The grand birthday party?” someone else chimes in and the person telling the story claps their hands together.

“That one. We had two fridges filled with alcohol and the music singing until four in the morning and that was just on the first day.”

Another group close to them smile as well before turning back to their conversation. It is about work and their faces match the tired slightly slurred words, most of them sounding foreign as they use specific terms, but their conversation is still animated and somewhat heated as they cover multiple subjects, jumping from one to the next without wasting a breath. There’s talk about a big meeting and how impressed they were, how so much professionalism was exhibited, how the person leading the meeting did not allow for others to trample all over them. Control, etiquette but also a good person to have on your side.

Someone else draws your attention, asking if the chair next to you is available, so you just nod, inviting them to sit as you scan the room again, blinking slowly. It is late and as much as you wish to go to bed, you know you cannot.

“Do you want me to bring you a coffee?”

“No thank you.” You’re always jittery from all the caffeine ingested which is probably the only thing keeping you upright. You offer a small polite smile suddenly remembering your manners and they nod politely back at you.

You should be making conversations with the people in the room, but then again you can barely form a full sentence without feeling the need to yawn. So you just observe, a particular silver brooch pinned to a shall catching your eye. It’s unique, swirls creating an intriguing design, but no matter how hard you stare, you cannot make out what it is exactly. Perhaps it’s not meant to be anything really, just something. Still nice though.

A sigh leaves your lips, slow and as silent as possible as conversations left and right continue, but it feels despite the people talking and talking, that each time you lift your eyes to the clock on the wall, only a few minutes at a time go by.

Getting up to stretch your legs you grab a mini eclere from the tray of sweets, a small boast of well needed energy.

“You did good with organizing everything.” A friendly familiar voice startles you and you know you’re so jumpy from the lack of sleep. You nod, hand stretching towards the handle of the door, opening it to let some clean air inside the stuffy room.

You cannot handle a moment more of the different types of perfumes and aftershaves mixing together with the hot smell of wax and formol. It makes your head dizzy and your nostrils sting, but you try as much as possible to ignore everything. Ignore the different flower arrangements, ignore the glaring icon that cost a fortune because it’s plated in silver. Ignore the voices inside the room just because they are all telling funny and upbeat stories, going down memory lane.

So you force another smile and say you tried your best.

But try as you might to ignore everything, you cannot ignore the large coffin in the middle of the room.

#the story collector #original story #original writing #original character #writting #writeblr #writers on tumblr #Lya Tudor

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monmelia · 8 months ago

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Monmelia Analysis Part 5: Stepping Back to Move Forward (21x02-21x06)

Okay this blog took way longer than planned, but it does bring us up to date with all of the current eps at least, because I thought it made sense to tie together all the Season 21 Monmelia scenes so far (since, admittedly, they’ve been pretty limited). Let’s start with 21x02, where our girlfriends girlies are reunited. Amelia has been reinstated and we can assume that it’s Monmelia’s first interaction since Amelia asked Monica to go out. The first thing I noticed when I watched this scene was how Monica instantly directs her attention from her patient’s scans to Amelia. She’s literally mid discussion with Levi and Mika, but as soon as she hears Amelia’s voice, she’s distracted. It’s as if everything else fades, giving serious “I’d know that voice anywhere” vibes. On Amelia’s side, her body language reads as awkward and perhaps a bit nervous, at least until her professional demeanour kicks in when Monica asks her to take a look at the scans.

The scene, however short, further highlights Monica's trust in Amelia's expertise and subtly reinforces their dynamic as equals who complement each other professionally. Monica clearly respects Amelia’s skills to figure out the right approach when she can’t herself. For a character as composed and confident as Monica, admitting uncertainty—and asking Amelia for help—is significant. It not only shows her professional humility but also hints at the personal comfort she feels in Amelia’s presence. This brief exchange is layered: Monica deferring to Amelia suggests an unspoken acknowledgment of her talent, while Amelia’s willingness to shuffle her plans to help hints at her continued interest in Monica, even if it's veiled in professionalism.

This is further explored in the next scene. Amelia’s suggestion of a coordinated dual approach is a bold, innovative solution, and her turning to Monica to gauge her opinion underlines their collaboration and trust. By asking Monica directly if she thinks the surgery is too risky, Amelia isn’t just seeking approval—she’s inviting Monica to weigh in as an equal partner in a complex and high-stakes decision. They have the balance of Amelia offering a solution and Monica making the call to proceed.

This scene not only moves the medical plot forward but also continues to build the subtle undercurrent of their personal dynamic—one based on mutual admiration and respect and their growing comfort in working closely together.

The seamless teamwork between them continues during surgery where they successfully remove the tumour on Cal's spine. Their joint collaboration achieves a challenging goal, and we see once again how well they work together. How many times can this show reinforce that fact but not have them date or at least kiss, come on! When they later discover that Cal has a malignant tumour in his brain and doesn’t have long to live, the devastating reality of their work hits hard.

This revelation sets the premise for their final scene of the episode, where Monica and Amelia find solace in each other. And should I mention the fact that the song playing in the background of this scene has the lyrics "I see your face, and then I am okay. So pin me to the floor, give me something to long for." Sharing a quiet moment over Chinese food, their interaction becomes a way to process the day’s events together. It’s not just about the loss of Cal, but also about how they subconsciously lean on each other for strength. We see Amelia willingly opening up about her personal life, talking about Meredith and her family life alongside her professional challenges.

Amelia’s line about catching two interns kissing in the elevator is a light-hearted attempt to shift the mood, but her reflections on their days as interns reveal a deeper vulnerability. She’s yearning for a time when things felt simpler, when the future seemed full of possibility. Her honesty about feeling directionless after everything that’s happened—both professionally and personally—shows how much she’s struggling, especially with the upheaval in her department. But fear not Amelia, because for every case your department reassigns, there’ll be a case of Monica’s that she trusts you enough to collaborate on.

It could also indicate a deeper significance in that Mika and Jules, the interns in question, are unapologetically embracing their relationship, diving headfirst into the risks and rewards of being together (at this point anyway). This stands in stark contrast to Monica and Amelia, who are holding back, cautiously navigating their connection. While Mika and Jules symbolise spontaneity and seizing the moment, Monica and Amelia seem weighed down by their personal histories and fears of vulnerability. Amelia’s reflections on being an intern herself—when “everything was possible” and life felt brighter could also hint to a longing for a relationship as bold and carefree as Jules and Mika’s. She can remember being in relationships like that when she was younger, but now she is in a dynamic that is full of potential, yet held back by timing and the weight of past experiences.

This isn’t a personal reflection on Amelia’s relationship with Monica, but rather a natural trajectory of being older, where decisions are often more cautious and considered. Unlike the carefree intensity of youth, Monica and Amelia’s connection has the benefit of maturity, allowing them to approach each other thoughtfully. In the long run, this measured pace could actually be a good thing, creating a strong foundation built on understanding, respect, and shared values rather than impulsivity. Taking the time to move slowly allows their relationship to grow organically, and it may ultimately deepen their bond, providing a more lasting connection.

Monica’s response, while brief, is meaningful. When she hands over her food and says, “I do,” it’s not just about knowing what to do next—it’s a quiet affirmation of her steadiness and willingness to be there for Amelia. It’s a simple gesture that speaks volumes about the comfort and understanding they’ve found in each other. Monica’s calm, grounding energy contrasts with Amelia’s uncertainty, reinforcing how they balance one another.

And can we talk about the food sharing in general? Because I don’t know about you guys but, I don’t share my food with just anyone. I love my food, so I have to really like someone to share it, so either Monica is just way nicer than me or she really likes Amelia (let’s go with the latter). Sharing food is a universal gesture of care, and in this moment, it becomes a quiet but powerful way for Monica and Amelia to connect. After an episode filled with weighty decisions and emotional strain, this moment strips away the professional layers, leaving just two people finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Ultimately, this gesture encapsulates the quiet intimacy that defines Monica and Amelia’s relationship at this stage. It’s not flashy or overtly romantic, but it’s meaningful, showcasing their shared respect, understanding, and willingness to be present for each other in the moments that matter most.

My point here is that as much as the little screen time between them this season has been frustrating, and the slow burn is burning a little too slow, their dynamic still continues to build in meaningful ways through their brief moments together. Each interaction, no matter how small, adds another layer to their relationship, whether it’s through their impeccable teamwork, shared vulnerabilities, or quiet moments of connection. These subtle developments reinforce that their story is steadily unfolding, laying the groundwork for something deeper and more significant over time.

Or I’m just delusional.

But if you want to carry on being delulu with me then let’s talk about 21x05, an episode where they did actually get a good amount of screen time, and my favourite Monmelia episode so far. We begin with a Winston scene, but as far as those scenes go, I’m going to call it a win for us (no pun intended). It’s just yet another example of how Winston is purely a plot device for Monmelia. His role isn’t about building his own story but rather highlighting the unresolved feelings and growing complexities in Monica and Amelia’s relationship.

This scene also reinforces again, the fact that Winston and Monica’s relationship is casual and non-committal. The first thing that highlights this is Winston’s comment about not seeing Monica in a while, which suggests they haven’t hooked up recently. This shows that their dynamic lacks consistency or depth—it’s more of a situational relationship, convenient and light. The discovery of the lingerie, which doesn’t belong to Monica, adds another layer, implying that Winston is hooking up with multiple people. However, the way Winston and Monica laugh off the mix-up without any jealousy or tension further solidifies their casual connection. There’s no possessiveness or emotional investment, indicating that neither of them sees this relationship as serious.

The scene shifts, however, when Amelia enters, and we see an entirely different dynamic. Amelia’s facial expression—a mix of what appears to be confusion and hurt—suggests she’s caught off guard. It’s possible she feels awkward and unsure of how to process the situation, especially given her growing feelings for Monica. Her hurt expression likely stems from interpreting the scene as something it’s not. To Amelia, this interaction may read as Monica being closer to Winston than she actually is, leading to feelings of rejection. When Amelia asked Monica out, Monica’s justification for not pursuing it was that she was going through a divorce. Knowing Amelia, she likely perceived this as a rejection regardless, but now, seeing Monica acting shifty with her former brother-in-law and lingerie hanging out of her pocket, the rejection feels even more pointed.

We, the audience, know that Monica is pursuing Winston because she knows it doesn’t have the risk of turning serious, a point I explored in my last blog. However, Amelia doesn’t have this context. From her perspective, the girl she likes appears to be entangled in something with Winston, adding to her sense of vulnerability and rejection.

Monica’s reaction is equally telling. Her awkwardness and immediate decision to hide the lingerie reflect discomfort with Amelia seeing this interaction. Monica’s sheepish demeanour suggests that she’s worried about how Amelia perceives her, and her quick switch to professional mode could be a way to diffuse the tension and regain control of the situation. This reaction shows that Monica is aware of Amelia’s feelings, even if she hasn’t acted on them. By hiding the lingerie, Monica likely doesn’t want Amelia to know she’s hooking up with Winston, as it’s something she views as insignificant and not worth causing Amelia hurt over. She probably feels even more mindful given the fact Amelia asked her out and she didn’t say yes. This suggests Monica recognises the potential for her actions to affect Amelia emotionally, even if she isn’t fully ready to confront what that means. Her attempt to shield Amelia from this moment reflects a desire to protect her feelings, further emphasising the growing awareness Monica has of their dynamic and the weight it carries.

This is further evidenced in the next scene, when Monica attempts to address the situation. This reflects her awareness that Amelia may have interpreted the earlier situation with Winston incorrectly. Monica likely feels the need to clarify because she values her connection with Amelia and doesn’t want this misunderstanding to create a rift between them. This further suggests that Monica recognises the weight of Amelia’s feelings—or at the very least, the importance of their relationship. The fact that she even attempts to explain, despite Amelia shutting it down, signals that Monica cares what Amelia thinks. It could just be that she doesn’t want to hurt her, or it could represent Monica’s own feelings for Amelia. More on that later!

One thing I noticed is that Amelia’s behaviour in this scene is very standoffish, a stark contrast with her more open, warm demeanour in previous interactions with Monica. This shift reinforces the idea that she feels hurt and rejected after seeing Monica with Winston. Amelia’s decision to keep things strictly professional—delivering a quick update and immediately trying to leave—shows she’s attempting to protect herself emotionally. Her defensive response, “None of my business,” is likely her way of shutting down further explanation to avoid hearing something that might hurt more. It’s a classic self-preservation tactic: feign indifference to maintain control over her emotions.

This scene captures their emotional misalignment perfectly. Amelia feels rejected and retreats into professionalism to shield herself, while Monica, perhaps sensing this retreat, feels the need to reach out and explain. However, Monica’s hesitation and Amelia’s defensiveness create a barrier neither is ready to breach. The tension highlights their mutual discomfort and growing awareness of each other’s feelings, setting them up for further development.

But in the next scene, we see another shift, as Amelia steps in to support Monica under pressure. Monica’s visible struggle as she tries to reassure Ofelia’s parents showcases her emotional investment and the immense responsibility she feels for her patients. However, the weight of the situation becomes overwhelming, and for a moment, Monica appears to lose her composure, as though dissociating under the pressure. I actually have a theory about this particular situation and why Monica may have reacted this way, but I talked in depth about it in my last blog so I’ll link here if you want to check that out.

Amelia’s response is instinctive, all of the earlier awkwardness with Winston is irrelevant now and Amelia favours supporting Monica and reassuring the patients over guarding her own vulnerabilities. It’s as though Amelia subconsciously senses when Monica needs help, stepping in with a calm, reassuring tone that reorients the conversation. Amelia’s words—acknowledging the parents’ fear while emphasising that Monica’s team is ready to act—bring the focus back to the expertise and readiness of the medical team, something Monica seemed momentarily unable to communicate.

What’s significant here is the way Monica looks to Amelia for support before admitting they’ve lost contact with the helicopter. This silent exchange, followed by Amelia’s intervention when Monica struggles, reflects the trust and understanding between them. Monica’s reliance on Amelia in this moment isn’t just professional—it’s deeply personal, as though she knows Amelia will step in when she falters.

This once again demonstrates how well they balance each other: Monica brings steadiness and leadership most of the time, but when she falters, Amelia’s ability to take control with empathy and confidence shines through. It’s a powerful reflection of how their relationship—both professional and personal—has evolved and how they can be pillars of support for one another.

The rare dynamic of Monica losing her composure and Amelia having to stay strong to support her continues into the next scene. Monica’s reaction here is raw and unguarded. Her spiralling thoughts—fixating on the worst-case scenario—reveal how deeply she internalises the responsibility of her role. Her behaviour here suggests a struggle to maintain composure, as the weight of the situation overwhelms her. It also speaks to the tremendous pressure she places on herself to protect everyone under her care, even in situations beyond her control. This moment starkly contrasts with the calm, collected Monica we’ve seen previously, reinforcing her humanity and the emotional toll her profession takes.

Her admission that she “had to go to the worst case scenario” offers insight into her psyche. This pattern of thinking likely stems from past trauma, programming her to anticipate the worst to emotionally prepare herself. My own theories aside, I hope we get to see more of Monica’s backstory soon to unravel this. This tendency to anticipate the worst could explain her hesitance to explore something deeper with Amelia. If Monica has experienced significant losses or emotional disappointments in the past—such as the breakdown of her marriage—it’s likely that she’s programmed herself to keep relationships at arm’s length to avoid further pain.

This may also explain why she’s momentarily chosen Winston, a low-stakes, casual connection, over Amelia, whose potential as a serious partner would require Monica to confront her fears of vulnerability and risk. Subconsciously, Monica might be projecting this “worst-case scenario” mindset onto her dynamic with Amelia, fearing rejection, failure, or emotional hurt if things don’t work out. It’s a protective mechanism, keeping her from fully investing in something she knows has the potential to be meaningful but also more emotionally challenging.

Amelia’s steady and empathetic response in this scene is significant in this context. By meeting Monica where she is emotionally and offering advice about accepting situations “at face value,” Amelia is gently challenging this mindset. She’s suggesting, whether consciously or not, that Monica doesn’t always have to brace for the worst—that sometimes, taking things as they come can allow for forward movement and growth. This moment subtly reinforces how Amelia could help Monica break free from these patterns, opening the door for a healthier, more open connection between them.

Additionally, Amelia’s words offer insight into her own experiences, making her advice carry even greater weight. When Amelia says, “I’ve experienced enough that I always go to the worst case scenario,” she’s revealing that she understands Monica’s mindset on a deeply personal level. Amelia, too, has been shaped by trauma—losing loved ones, battling addiction, and navigating grief—and has likely developed similar coping mechanisms of bracing for the worst. This shared tendency connects them, as both of them have used this mindset as a way to maintain control in situations where life feels unpredictable.

However, Amelia’s advice to “accept the situation at face value so you can keep moving forward” reflects her growth. While she acknowledges that she still struggles with this instinct, her words suggest that she’s learning to balance the need for emotional anticipation with the importance of staying present. Her willingness to share this wisdom with Monica subtly positions Amelia as someone who could help Monica navigate her own struggles with control and vulnerability.

On another level, Amelia’s advice carries a poignant double meaning. It not only applies to Monica’s crisis but also seems to mirror Amelia’s own efforts to accept her feelings for Monica and move forward despite what she perceives as rejection. Amelia likely views Monica’s interactions with Winston and her reluctance to act on their connection as signs that she isn’t ready or interested. Yet, Amelia’s ability to stay present and offer emotional support in this moment—despite her own feelings—shows her maturity and capacity for empathy. It’s as though Amelia is applying her own advice in real time: accepting the situation at face value while continuing to show up for Monica when she needs it most.

This dual-layered moment reveals how both of their pasts inform their present behaviours and how their connection could become a source of healing for one another. Monica, who fears emotional risk, and Amelia, who understands the pain of vulnerability but still chooses to offer her support, create a relationship rich with potential for growth and understanding.

This scene provides a nice parallel to the Gem Crush scene, but with a deeper emotional intensity. In both cases, Amelia instinctively knows when Monica needs someone to steady her, but this scene highlights a growing emotional intimacy between them.

While the Gem Crush scene hinted at their chemistry and ease with one another, this moment takes it further, showcasing a level of trust and vulnerability that wasn’t as overt before. Monica isn’t just frustrated; she’s overwhelmed by the emotional weight of her responsibility. Amelia stepping in while Monica visibly struggles shows how their dynamic has evolved from casual camaraderie to something more personal and supportive.

What’s fitting in all this is the song choice in the background of this scene (Breakdown by Ships Have Sailed). Everything means something to me so I looked into the lyrics and the meaning of the song, and the way it just fits them??? The band’s frontman describes the song as “an exploration of our lowest moments, the times we’re broken, exhausted, completely tapped out and we just need a lifeline.” He goes on to say that it was born from conversations with his co-writer where they talked about how hard it can be to admit that they needed somebody to hold them upright during those difficult times. This is representative of the fact Monica showed her vulnerability enough to confide in Amelia, and though she might have found that really difficult and seeking comfort from someone might not come naturally to her, she relents and lets Amelia in. It could also foreshadow a dynamic in which Amelia helps Monica through even bigger things in life, i.e. her divorce, past traumas etc.

With lyrics like “We’re all looking for a lifeline, a way to make it through the storm,” the music reflects both the literal storm affecting the helicopter’s journey and the emotional storm Monica and Amelia are navigating. Monica’s visible breakdown and Amelia’s role as her “lifeline” highlight the song’s central theme of finding support amidst chaos.

Read that again. Amelia Shepherd is Monica Beltran’s lifeline.

The repeated message of breaking down captures Monica’s current state, while the song’s hopeful tone suggests that breakdowns can lead to breakthroughs—a sentiment that applies both to Monica’s struggles and to the progression of her relationship with Amelia. Additionally, the lyric “I’ll hold on, I won’t let go,” mirrors Amelia’s actions. Despite her own internal conflicts—her perceived rejection by Monica and witnessing Monica’s dynamic with Winston—Amelia chooses to stay present, offering steady support instead of retreating.

This scene not only deepens their individual character arcs but also solidifies the connection between Monica and Amelia. The parallels to earlier moments, combined with the song’s poignant lyrics, emphasise how their relationship is slowly but surely developing.

Now to the final scene of the ep, one that will have people saying it’s the end of their chapter and it’s them giving us closure. Well, I don’t think so. And here’s why…

I’m starting with acknowledging Monica’s recognition of Amelia’s role in calming her down, because it’s an important moment for them. Up until now, we’ve often seen Amelia supporting Monica in subtle ways, but this is one of the first times Monica openly acknowledges it. By admitting, “I was freaking out and you calmed me down,” Monica demonstrates an emotional vulnerability that mirrors Amelia’s earlier willingness to step in and provide support. This moment shows how their relationship is not one-sided—they both bring value to each other, creating a dynamic where support flows both ways. Remember in my first blog when I said I wanted Amelia to find a lasting, healthy love who challenges her and embraces her flaws, and loves her for exactly who she is. But I want her to do that for them in return, and to show up for her partner in ways I know she’s so capable of? Well Monica Beltran was clearly the answer here.

But then we have Amelia’s response; “It’s the irony that you would see if you knew me better.” This line is deeply reflective of Amelia’s character and highlights a gap in their understanding of each other. Amelia’s history of impulsivity, struggles with addiction, and emotional volatility likely make her see herself as someone who is far from a calming presence. The irony she mentions stems from this self-perception—she finds it almost laughable that Monica, someone she clearly respects, would view her as a grounding force. It subtly suggests that Amelia doesn’t feel fully “seen” by Monica yet, and while their connection is growing, there’s still room for them to learn more about each other on a deeper, personal level.

This line also hints at Amelia’s emotional growth. While she may not see herself as someone inherently calming, the fact that she successfully supports Monica during her breakdown shows how far she has come in her own journey. It’s a reminder that Amelia is more than her past struggles—she is capable of being a supportive, reliable presence when it matters.

Monica’s decision to bring up Winston for the second time is very telling. As I said earlier, once could be interpreted as Monica trying not to hurt Amelia’s feelings, but twice feels deliberate. This repeated effort to clarify that her relationship with Winston is “just casual” could mean a couple of different things. On one level, this could be a sign of deeper feelings—Monica may subconsciously want to keep the door open with Amelia or ensure that Amelia doesn’t misinterpret her actions. Alternatively, it reflects Monica’s growing awareness of the emotional undercurrents between them. Her insistence on explaining herself shows that she deeply values Amelia and she's adamant this misunderstanding isn't going to affect their connection.

Amelia’s response, while calm and less defensive than earlier, feels like a subtle shift in her perspective. Telling Monica that she doesn’t owe her an explanation reflects her acceptance of the situation and her effort to take her own advice: to “accept things at face value” and move forward. While it’s clear she still cares about Monica, Amelia is choosing to respect her boundaries and keep their dynamic intact rather than risk alienating her. Her willingness to say, “You and I are good,” and move on shows her maturity and her ability to prioritise the connection they already have over her personal feelings.

However, this doesn’t mean Amelia doesn’t care—her earlier defensiveness and her body language in this scene suggest that her feelings for Monica are still present. She may be acting as though it doesn’t bother her, but the fact that Monica feels compelled to explain herself again hints that both of them recognise the unspoken tension between them. Amelia’s choice to step back rather than push reflects her respect for Monica’s situation and her desire to maintain their connection, even if it means setting her feelings aside for now.

One thing to pay attention to is Meredith’s voiceover that overlays the scene. The line “We tell ourselves we don’t care” directly overlays Amelia walking away from Monica, making it a clear reflection of her internal state. Throughout the episode, Amelia has been trying to convince herself that she’s unaffected by Monica’s connection with Winston. Her standoffishness earlier and her calm but emotionally distant response in this final scene are classic examples of someone faking indifference to protect themselves from further rejection. This line perfectly captures Amelia’s defensive strategy: she’s putting on a façade of not caring to maintain composure and to keep Monica in her life in some capacity.

“The old saying goes fake it till you make it, because sometimes pretending you have confidence helps you find the real thing. When it doesn’t work, when life doesn’t give us second chances or dress rehearsals, you can walk away or you can go all in. We tell ourselves we don’t care. We can try to hide our doubts and fears. Or we can accept the unknown and dive in. The real thing is better anyway.”

- Meredith Grey (21x05)

However, Amelia’s consistent effort to stay composed shows how much she does care. By choosing to be supportive rather than retreating entirely, Amelia demonstrates her ability to prioritise the connection she has with Monica, even if it’s not in the form she hoped for. This moment shows Amelia “faking it” emotionally to keep moving forward, just as the voiceover suggests.

If we look at the voiceover as a whole, it’s interesting how it encapsulates the overarching trajectory of Monica and Amelia’s relationship so far:

“Fake it till you make it”

Both Monica and Amelia are faking something to maintain stability in their lives. Monica is “faking” a connection with Winston, using their casual relationship as a distraction while avoiding the risk and emotional vulnerability of pursuing something serious with Amelia. For Amelia, her “fake” indifference toward Monica’s situation is a defence mechanism, helping her stay grounded while dealing with her feelings.

“When it doesn’t work, when life doesn’t give us second chances or dress rehearsals, you can walk away or you can go all in.”

This speaks directly to the choice that both women face. Monica is at a crossroads—she can keep walking away from her feelings for Amelia by hiding behind her casual dynamic with Winston (a blatant dress rehearsal), or she can confront her emotions and take the leap. Amelia, too, faces a choice: she can maintain her façade and protect herself emotionally, or she can let herself be vulnerable by staying open to the possibility of something deeper with Monica in the future.

“We tell ourselves we don’t care. We can try to hide our doubts and fears.”

This mirrors both Monica and Amelia’s actions. Monica hides her fears of commitment and rejection behind her relationship with Winston, and Amelia hides her hurt feelings by pretending to be unbothered. However, this pretence is a temporary fix—it’s clear from their interactions that these unspoken emotions are shaping their dynamic and will likely need to be addressed eventually.

“Or we can accept the unknown and dive in. The real thing is better anyway.”

This line hints at the potential of Monica and Amelia’s relationship. While both are currently navigating fears, doubts, and external baggage, the voiceover suggests that “the real thing”—a meaningful connection between them—would be worth the emotional risk. It foreshadows the possibility that they might eventually “dive in” once they’re ready to confront their feelings.

This final scene of Monica and Amelia appears to be part of a larger, intentional framing of relationships in the show. Like Monmelia, the other characters featured during the monologue—Levi and James, Jo and Link—are all grappling with external factors or internal fears that impact their relationships. James just told Levi about his husband that passed away and how Levi is the first person he’s properly dated since then. Jo and Link are overwhelmed and scared at the prospect of having twins. For Monica, it’s her divorce and her fear of vulnerability; for Amelia, it’s her fear of rejection. The contrast with Lucas and Simone, who are unburdened by the baggage of age and experience, emphasises how much emotional weight the other couples carry. It’s a stark reminder that emotional baggage and life’s complications often dictate how relationships evolve—or don’t. They come into shot just as Meredith talks about accepting the unknown and diving in, as if to represent what all three of the other couples could be if they too followed this mantra.

This scene and the voiceover capture where Monica and Amelia stand right now: caught between fear and possibility, faking stability while navigating their deeper emotions. It beautifully sets us up for what could happen if they both choose to dive in and accept the unknown, rather than walk away.

That’s why I’m not too worried about the lack of scenes between them in 21x06. Of course I wish we had them, but I’m not concerned, I think it’s just part of the build up. I actually think it was good for both of their characters, in fact, it’s a crucial step in their individual growth. Relationships, especially ones with potential for depth and longevity, often require both people to build their own foundations before fully committing to one another. This episode provides the space for Monica and Amelia to focus on themselves, which is something I’ve always believed is key to their relationship working in the long run.

For Monica, we see her thriving in her career, succeeding in her surgeries and driving her professional arc forward. This is an important aspect of her character development—she’s finding her footing again after her divorce and proving her competence and value in the surgical world. By focusing on her own growth, Monica is laying the groundwork for being emotionally ready to invest in something meaningful when the time comes.

For Amelia, the episode allows us to see her in her role as a mother, spending time with Scout and highlighting the centrality of her son in her life. This not only reinforces Amelia’s identity outside of her professional life but also reminds us of the responsibilities she brings to any relationship. Seeing her embrace this part of her life demonstrates her own emotional growth and her commitment to balancing motherhood with the other areas of her life. Monica would have to accept this part of Amelia should she want to pursue a relationship with her.

Together, these arcs show that Monica and Amelia are taking the time to grow as individuals, which is essential for their relationship to flourish. Rather than rushing into a relationship before they’re ready, both of them are focusing on their personal needs and priorities.

There are a couple of key parts we could focus on too. When Amelia is talking to Jo about her relationship with Link, we could draw some comparison to Monica’s current dynamic with Winston. Monica may not be "forcing" anything in the same way, but her casual relationship with Winston could stem from a similar fear of facing deeper emotions. Just as Link may have been using his relationship with Amelia as a way to avoid confronting his true feelings for Jo, Monica could be using her casual connection with Winston as a way to delay or avoid the vulnerability that pursuing something with Amelia would require.

This suggests that both Monica and Link might be acting out of a fear of change or emotional risk, staying in situations that feel "safe" even if they lack authenticity or longevity. Amelia’s insight here could reflect how she perceives Monica’s dynamic with Winston, whether she’s consciously drawn the connection or not. While the context is different, the emotional dynamics align, but this time Amelia has switched roles. She is the "Jo"—the authentic relationship with Monica, representing depth and genuine connection, rather than the one who is used as an escape or a distraction.

In the very next scene, Monica makes a comment during surgery about her patients: “I think it’s sweet. They know what they want and they’re not holding back.” This line could easily apply to her own dynamic with Amelia. Monica has been hesitant to fully confront or act on her feelings, instead retreating into the safety of a casual relationship with Winston. If Monica were to take her own observation to heart, she might realise that holding back isn’t serving her—and that acknowledging what she truly wants could lead to something much more fulfilling.

Similarly, Amelia has recognised that Link’s dynamic with her was rooted in fear and avoidance rather than genuine connection. If she reflects on this, she could see parallels in Monica’s relationship with Winston. Just as Link was using his connection with Amelia to avoid confronting his deeper feelings for Jo, Monica may be using Winston as a way to avoid addressing the emotional risks that come with pursuing something real with Amelia. Recognising this could give Amelia some clarity and help her see that Monica’s actions aren’t necessarily a rejection of her, but a reflection of Monica’s own emotional struggles.

It’s fitting, then, that both Monica and Amelia reflect on sentiments in this episode that could help them if they took their own advice. Monica’s admiration for her patients’ authenticity and Amelia’s emphasis on honesty and vulnerability are precisely what they need to embrace if they are to move forward together. These reflections highlight the emotional barriers they’re each grappling with and offer hope for what could happen if they both find the courage to not hold back.

This season so far has been all about the slow, careful build for Monica and Amelia, and while it’s easy to get frustrated at the pace or lack of screen time, the groundwork being laid feels intentional. Every scene, no matter how brief, adds a layer to their dynamic, revealing the emotional complexities both characters are navigating and setting us up for something long term.

What’s fascinating is how both Monica and Amelia are mirroring each other in their struggles with vulnerability and fear. Monica, hesitant to confront her deeper feelings for Amelia, hides behind the safe, casual dynamic with Winston, while Amelia, feeling rejected and uncertain, chooses to protect herself by pretending she’s unaffected. Yet despite their missteps, we’re seeing a connection that continues to grow organically through mutual support, professional respect, and those small moments of quiet intimacy that mean everything.

What stands out in all of this is the potential they have—not just as individuals but as a team. Their ability to balance each other, to step in when the other falters, and to provide emotional stability creates a dynamic that is both deeply compelling and rich with possibility. The show has been slow-burning their relationship for a reason: these are two people who need to grow individually before they’re ready to take the leap together. But when they do, it will be worth the wait.

For now, we’re watching Monica and Amelia navigate their own arcs, finding strength in themselves while still holding space for each other. Whether it’s through Monica’s acknowledgment of Amelia’s calming presence or Amelia’s ability to support Monica without letting her feelings get in the way, their connection feels like it’s steadily building.

As much as I want them to just dive in already, there’s something satisfying about watching them take their time. They have to step back to move forward. But until then, I’ll be here, overanalysing every look, every line, and every shared carton of Chinese food.

Let’s carry on being delulu together! <3

#amelia shepherd #monica beltran #monmelia #monmelia analysis #monmelia thoughts #thoughts #analysis #ramblings #wlw #grey's anatomy #grey's abc

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