#I wanted a relatively simple reading experience

[brooklynisher]

Alright, I'll post it here. Please be nice, it's my first published writing on here :}

CW for emotional distress, yelling, and animal abuse

Green Light

The Spine has been called on by Peter Walter to participate in a few tests, but The Spine can’t help but feel that there’s something very wrong about these tests.

The Spine stood still counting the number of wires in the room. He counted the wires, then the flasks, then the ratio of flasks, empty to full to partially full. He would read the paper. Making sure to read each and every word carefully and slowly. Refusing to continue until he understood every last bit of what he just read. This is how he spends his free time. It’s not like he has much else to do. Aside from the fact that he and all of the other robots haven’t been around for more than a few months, there’s also a lot he’s simply not allowed to do. But as much as he hates being unable to do anything he wants, he has developed some essential skills considerably faster than the others.

When he learned how to read, that’s all he really did, though he limited himself to the newspapers. He was pretty caught up in current events as a result. Counting, fractioning, identifying things around the room, while being relatively simple tasks to most adults, was a huge learning experience for the titanium robot. Anything he can do to be just a bit smarter was propitious. 

Peter Walter walks in with a strange expression on his face. The Spine can’t tell if he’s angry, passionate, if his feelings are strong or dull, he simply can’t tell. He feels it’s a failure in his ability to identify facial expressions.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?” The Spine straightens his posture.

“I need you to come with me.”

He makes a small gesture urging The Spine to follow him. The Spine spine responds with a simple, “Yes sir.” before taking his inventor’s lead. He tries to make sure any anxiety doesn’t show. He’s a robot after all. He’s not supposed to be feeling things like anxiety. Yet he can’t help but feel slightly anxious every time Peter calls on him to do something he doesn’t know anything about. They arrived in a small concrete room. It’s mostly empty with the exception of an oddly colorful board hanging high up on the wall. The board contains the names of each Walter automaton followed by 5 red lightbulbs. A few of the bulbs for each robot are green, but none are out of order. Peter orders The Spine to stay put before leaving the room. The Spine tries to make observations while he waits.

“Rabbit… 3 green lights… 2 red… Zer0… 5 green lights… 0 red… Hatchworth-”

Peter Walter has returned. The Spine straightens his posture once again. Peter seems to be pulling a large wagon of some kind. The contents inside the wagon are covered with a beige tarp. Peter approaches The Spine.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?”

“Take my wrist.”

He pulls up his sleeve. The Spine notices that Peter’s wrist seems to be oddly beat up. He’s not sure what this could mean, but he must obey orders. He grips his wrist as gently as possible trying not to harm him.

“Squeeze it,” Peter commands.

Squeeze it? But The Spine is made out of metal. Peter is made out of flesh. The Spine doesn’t have sensory receptors. Peter does. For all he knows, he already has a tight grip around Peter’s wrist. What if he hurts him? What would he do? But The Spine has learned that obedience is better than defiance. Even if it’s at the risk of causing more issues. He squeezes his wrist.

“AUGH!”

Peter pulls his hand away and turns his back towards The Spine. The Spine is instantly filled with regret, grabbing his own hand as if to keep it under control. He canes his neck just enough to see the damage he has caused. Peter’s hand is limp. Oh god.

“Pe- Mister Walter! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I- I was just-” He tries to apologize, but the words struggle to escape him. He’s not even allowed to apologize. If he apologizes, then that means he made a mistake. And mistakes are a no-go here.

“Stop your stammering!” Peter hisses at him.

The Spine only hangs his head low. Ready to endure whatever it is that he deserves. Peter takes a big shaky breath in.

“You’re… you’re fine… This is good. You’re very strong. Maybe even the strongest automaton I’ve built yet… I could do without the apologizing and the stuttering.”

What? Good? He just broke his inventor’s wrist! Of all the mistakes The Spine made in his short lifespan, how was THIS the one that Peter excuses? Hell, he seems more angry about him apologizing and stuttering than he is about him breaking his wrist. What kind of twisted logic is that? Does he want The Spine to hurt him? But those are questions for later. The least The Spine can do right now is be considerate. He waits for a couple of moments to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Sir, will your wrist be alright?”

“The depths of science in which I have delved are unlike any other. If I can build such a great number of automatons in such a short period using a substance I alone have discovered, then surely I can heal a broken wrist.”

He takes a controller out of his pocket with his good hand and pushes a button. One of the lights next to The Spine’s name turns green. He then turns to the wagon and pulls off one of the tarps, unveiling a dummy. He drags it out of the wagon and places it down on the ground using one arm. The Spine feels bad leaving him to struggle on his own like this, but he didn’t ask for help, so it’s best he just leaves it to him.

“Alright The Spine. Hit it.”

“... Anywhere?”

“As hard as you can.”

The Spine nods and faces the dummy. He can’t necessarily hit “hard” as he doesn’t have muscle but he can hit fast. So he curls his hand up into a fist and punches the dummy in the head as the humans do in news stories at full speed. The body is pushed back, head flying off. The head slams into the wall creating a small shockwave of dust. The Spine flinches. Peter side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything. He hits another button, and another bulb by his name goes green. He moves back to the wagon unveiling another dummy. He drags it to the center and looks straight towards The Spine.

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine,”

The Spine nods involuntarily.

“Activate blue matter ray projector arrays.”

And just like so, The Spine’s arm shifts into an intense-looking weapon. This throws The Spine off guard, but he keeps quiet.

“The Spine, I’d like you to shoot that dummy.”

The Spine looks at the dummy, then back at his hand.

“... How… How do I do that sir?” The Spine asks unaware he even had this feature installed.

“You’re going to have to figure it out on your own. Just as you will in order to disable it.”

The Spine looks back up at the dummy. He doesn’t understand what to do but still points his arm in its direction. He tries to move each part of his arm as if it were normal, and to his surprise, he is successful. The blue matter ray charged up. He aimed it toward the chest of the dummy feeling slightly uneasy. Something about this feels wrong, but he shoots. Before the beam hit, Peter managed to open up an umbrella, shielding himself from the bright red substance that now covers the room. The Spine’s body becomes a mess of red. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. What… What was that? While The Spine was still trying to process what had just happened, he didn’t notice Peter’s glare.

“Relax yourself.”

The Spine closes his mouth, straightens his posture, and tries to rest his shoulders and eyes. However, he finds that he is struggling to calm down. He doesn’t know why he feels so distressed, but something about that didn’t sit right with him. The third light next to his name turns green as Peter hits the button. He pulls out one more dummy, which makes The Spine feel nervous. 

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine, activate chainsaw.”

His other arm switches into a chainsaw, alarming him quite a bit. He tries to disable his other arm so that he has a free hand. As he does this, Peter simply stands against a wall and watches. He doesn’t say anything. The Spine looks back at him, hoping he tells him to do something different, but Peter only observes. It’s obvious what he wants him to do. The Spine turned back to the dummy.

“It’s probably just ink…” He thinks to himself still feeling uneasy. He preps his chainsaw and turns it on. The vibrations it produces are undeniably strong. It was almost as if he could feel it. He closes his eyes and slashes the chainsaw through the dummy. His eyes reopened to the sound of screaming. It’s even messier than before. He pulls his chainsaw back staring at the brutalized dummy now dyed red. Did it scream? Was it alive? He doesn’t move. His chainsaw slows to a full stop. What did he do? Another light turned green, he’s now down to his last light before all five of them turn green.

“Are you ready for your final test?” Peter asks.

Is that what they were? Not that it mattered what they were. The Spine was not ready. If anything he was afraid. He was afraid of what came next. He was afraid of Peter Walter. So of course, he nodded. Peter unveils the final hidden object in the wagon as The Spine deactivates his chainsaw. The final hidden object is none other than a crate. A crate… He opens the crate and pulls out a dog…

“No.” The Spine accidentally says out loud. He looks away, trying to hide his face.

“I’ll let you use any method you’d like.”

“No.” Though it was stupid before, it’s almost as though he can’t control himself. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s not going to follow through with this. Peter doesn’t say anything for a second. He then starts to speak.

“You know… there’s a reason why I’m not with the others right now.”

The Spine doesn’t respond.

“The others are sweet robots. And lighthearted ones at that. But they’ve always been a little bit… zany. Compared to you at least.”

The Spine grimaces.

“The only reason why I’m so ‘normal’ compared to the others is because you forced me to be! If I had it my way, I’d be just as wacky as the others, if not a bit more mature.” He wanted to say. But he knew arguing wouldn’t do him any good. Especially in a situation like this where that’s not the problem. So as much as he wanted to fight Peter on this, the best he could do for himself was bite his tongue.

“Such wild and eccentric personalities… They’d never want to hurt a soul… but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”

By now, four of the six main automatons have already achieved all five lights. That leaves one other who has yet to complete the test.

“And I’ll admit, it was partially my fault. My idea of the perfect robot would’ve never led up to this moment, yet it has. So for the sake of humanity, I’m going to need you to let go of some of what I had taught you. Obedience is key. Listen to me The Spine.”

The Spine slouches a little shaking his head.

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“But I can’t.”

“The Spine-”

“It’s a living creature! I can’t make myself do it…” The Spine then makes the mistake of looking at the puppy. It yawns a big yawn before lying down. His resistance grows stronger. How is he supposed to kill this thing?

“Kill the dog The Spine.”

“Why don’t you just make me kill the dog? Won’t that be easier? It’s not like you don’t have the power to.” His response comes out much more disrespectful than he meant it to, but it seems like there’s no stopping himself at this point. Peter’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to kill the dog whether you want to or not.”

“That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? You’re asking me to do things on my own accord but not unless you allow me to. What kind of sense does that make?” It was unlike The Spine to talk back so much. Even during moments where he was defiant, he’s never been this much of a brat about it.

“Spine-”

“You want me to kill Rabbit next? Make me kill your favorite robot just so you can yell at me for it afterward?” At this point, The Spine’s retorts became less relevant. Peter is getting fed up with his behavior. His patience now gone.

“DO YOU WANT THE BECILES TO WIN OR NOT?” Peter yells. This is enough to get The Spine to quiet down. He’s not sure if he knows what he means.

“WE ARE ON THE BRINK OF WAR. BECILE HAS GONE MAD AND IF HE WINS THIS COULD DETERMINE MORE THAN THE FATE OF SCIENCE. IT COULD DETERMINE THE FATE OF OUR STATE. IT CAN DETERMINE THE FATE OF THE WORLD. A SCIENTIST AS CRAZY AS HIM SHOULD NOT HAVE ACCESS TO SUCH INTENSE TECHNOLOGY AND SUCH INTENSE POWER. DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET AWAY WITH THAT?”

The Spine only looks down at the ground out of guilt. He’s not quite sure what Peter is talking about, but he knows he’s blaming him for… something. At least, that’s what it feels like. He pauses for a few seconds before finally saying something.

“I’m sorry Mister Walter… but… I can’t help it that I’m… I’m an individual… and I can’t… I can’t kill an innocent creature. I just can’t… I don’t want the Beciles to win, but I’m just not capable of this sort of thing. I’m sorry…”

Peter is about to respond when he hears a small yelp from the other room. The Jon’s 5th light has turned green. He looks back down at The Spine, but he doesn’t say anything. Even so, The Spine knows what he would say. When it comes to animals, The Jon was always the best with them. Something about his presence would just attract animals stronger than any bait. He loves animals, and the animals love him. It could not have been an easy assignment for him to kill a creature of any kind. Especially one as innocent and as sweet as a puppy. Yet he still had the guts to kill it. The Spine’s relationship with animals was minimal, yet he refused to kill one just because he didn’t want to. He knew this made him weak, but it didn’t change his stance. He simply hangs his head low out of shame.

Peter notices that he’s still reluctant to complete the task, so he turns to his last resort. He sighs as he lights a match. The Spine hears this and looks up at him. His eyes widened in terror. He’s heard horror stories about being burned alive. He knows what he’s going to do.

“Don’t. Please Mister Walter don’t hurt it-”

The Spine continues to beg Peter to leave the puppy alone, but ultimately he ignores him. Soon enough, the small animal begins screeching and yelping in pain. The sounds were enough to drive The Spine over the edge. He pulls out his blue matter ray and shoots the poor thing down as quickly as possible. The Spine can feel an intense amount of steam leaving his body, yet his body still feels unbearably hot. It’s as if the steam from his body wasn’t releasing fast enough. That was the last thing The Spine wanted to do, but he really didn’t have another choice. There was nothing he could’ve reliably used to put out the flames and even if he did find something, he wouldn’t know how to heal the small pup. It would only die slower. The only thing he could do was speed up the process.

Peter places a hand on his shoulder. The Spine stiffens. He’s using every last atom in his metal body to resist the urge to tear his inventor apart.

“Why did you kill it?” Peter asks.

“I- You set it on fire! It was suffering! It was in pain! I couldn’t just let it die such a terrible fate like that…”

“Mm..” Peter nods.

“The Spine, there’s something you need to understand.”

The Spine only looks at him.

“In war, everyone is always suffering.”

“...”

“Now, come with me. It’s clear to me that you need some serious repairs.”

The final red light turns green.

[ao3commentoftheday]

very pink ao3 theme

I was going for vibe-y and monochromatic and I went super hard on the latter. If this looks like a thing you'd want (or want to edit), you can find the code here.

Credit to @ao3skin for the code that I modified to change the menu colours and adjust the tags. I literally could not do that without copy/pasting your stuff first 💗

Editing to add: I included the hex codes for the colours in an end note, so if you like the idea but want a different colour, there ya go

[insertdisc5]

🎮 HEY I WANNA MAKE A GAME! 🎮

Yeah I getcha. I was once like you. Pure and naive. Great news. I AM STILL PURE AND NAIVE, GAME DEV IS FUN! But where to start?

To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:

SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!

Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup

Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity

Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty

RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)

engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?

✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨

ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :

Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!

GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!

Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!

BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!

-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!

-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.

-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.

-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.

-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye

[helsensm]

Can’t remember what was the premise for this and I’m too lazy to make a decent comic out of it, so just have this poorly digitalized railao doodle I found in my sketchbook, y’all can add any context you want~

I posted some Kung Lao and mk1 Kung Jin headcanons earlier, so now I think I’ll drop railao thoughts too. Nothing too crazy - I prefer to read/hear about other’s hc more than to think about them myself afgHjHh

- Raiden fell first, but Kung Lao fell harder.

- Lao did confess first tho. After the mk1 events and some chill time together they both realized that they can't stand being separated and stressed about the other’s safety.

- They used to have these red-string “lucky bracelets” when they were kids but stopped wearing them in middle school (prob lost them or because it wasn’t “cool” anymore hah). Later, after mk1 when they officially started dating, they got a pair of matching ones, as a substitute for the wedding rings. 😊 (now go find all of them on my railao art 👀)

- Right now (mk1 and right after) Raiden’s hair is longer than Lao’s, but Lao is growing his hair out so in the future he’ll be rocking that one long-ass braid we all love. 🥰 Also he has no idea how to style hair besides the ponytail and a simple braid, so sometimes Raiden will do his hair for him as soon as it grows long enough.

- Since childhood Raiden collects cool rocks he found around the village and sometimes he gives them to Lao. I suspect that Raiden is a penguin.

- When Lao noticed that the flower petals have a strange tendency to follow him everywhere, he began collecting them and leaving in various places, including Raiden’s home and school desk. After they got together, the petals would follow Raiden on their own volition every time the two are separated. 🌸

- Lao began to pierce his ears right after the school graduation and Raiden thinks he looks cool, but he did only one piercing per ear for himself much later. Although I'm starting to dig Novice’s idea that he can’t wear them because of his lightning powers. 🤔

- Raiden calls Kung Lao just “Lao” or “my Lao” (but not in a “professional setting”, like on missions or in front of people who are not considered their friends). Kung Lao loves giving Raiden cheesy nicknames.

- Lao is so passionate in his affection, he’s borderline aggressive, he kisses and hugs like it’s their last time. Raiden is more sensual and a fan of prolonged physical touch, like holding hands for the whole day.

- Kung Lao is a professional shit talker and yapper, Raiden just nods and listens. He remembers everything tho, even if it’s something ridiculous that Lao himself will forget after five minutes.

- Lao actually can cook at a reasonable level. I also think he’s very creative and resourceful and can make a decent meal from a limited number of ingredients.

- A relatively new follow-up hc inspired by this tt and personal experience discussion with D3rpy: Kung Lao eats like a vacuum cleaner and can’t stand people wasting food because when he was a kid his family had a rough few years when they could barely afford enough food. And although things have changed for the better, it’s a habit now, he’s like a stray animal - you can’t waste food when you don’t know when you’ll eat next. Also this is when he got closer to Raiden’s family, hanging out in his house more often.

[priniya]

🎥 ACTRESS’ SAVIOUR

SYNOPSIS. when doctor reid finds himself enamoured with a certain actress with bright future ahead of her, she gets kidnapped and all he wants to do is save her by any cost.

going to your father’s bureau for the first time could’ve been considered an usual experience, something that could occur on a daily basis — a daughter, stopping by her parent’s workplace to possibly drop him off breakfast he left at home.

for you, on the other hand, it was a stressful occurrence. it was one of the first times at the BAU, where agent hotchner’s been working for years. the reason behind your rare visits there was relatively simple, you weren’t aware you even had a father until you turned sixteen and your mother has passed away. it was, when the social services found out that beside her, you had other living relatives, so… instead of an orphanage, you moved to quantico. building a relationship with a man, who already had a wife and a son, and no idea that his high school relationship has resulted in a kid, was rough. but here you were, six and a half year later, nervously standing inside the elevator, hoping that nothing would go wrong.

however, it had to go, you wouldn’t be yourself if everything went smoothly. as you looked into your phone to check a notification that popped up on the screen, you were met with a person — too quickly to realise that you were bound to bump into someone. the man in front of you was holding a half–empty cup of steaming coffee that other half spilled all over his brown sweater. a flush washed over you immediately, having taken a notice of what just happened.

“i am so sorry, sir.” your nervousness reached its peak the second your eyes laid on the man in front of you. he was tall, definitely taller than you, almost towering over you, glasses were resting on the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. from the plastic plate on his chest you read his name. spencer reid.

“well, uh. it’s alright.” he muttered, walking past you to change out of his stained piece of clothing, giving you all the reasons to overthink this situation, feeding your anxieties.

the confident attitude you tried to put on was now long gone as you made it through to your father’s office. it was a struggle, because you couldn’t remember how to get there, but when you did, your cheeks flushed even more upon seeing spencer, standing next to your dad, his stained shirt nowhere to be found. “excuse me, uh–” you started, announcing your presence, earning a few curious looks. “dad, you left the breakfast at home.”

“dad?” you heared a female voice whisper, and you swore your guts to know that she looked around the room for an answer, while, unfortunately for her, being left with nothing more than a shrug. the last name on the plastic clipped onto your shirt didn’t match with their boss’, which only confused them more.

hotch cleared his throat, giving you the tiniest smile as he took the brown bag from you. “y/n, these are special agents morgan, prentiss, rossi, garcia and doctor reid. you already know jj.” he said, confusing them even more. “this is my daughter, y/n.”

“hey, i know you from somewhere.” a woman spoke out, her colorful dress catching your attention immediately. “oh my gosh, hotch why didn’t you tell me that you’re daughter is playing on the russos life? i love that show!” her words brought heat to your cheeks.

the russos life was your first bigger gig that got you a little bit of recognition in show-busines and social media. at the beginning of your small acting career, you promised yourself that you’d not go to the television, because theatre was your thing. you can’t even recall the moment when your point of view changed, maybe it was after the call from your agent suggesting you that you should take the role, because the producers were already interested. or, most likely it was when you fell in love with a role you were proposed.

you stayed in the conference room (and in the building in general) for the next few minutes. after you had left, the sweet sound of your voice was still lingering in spencer’s mind that somehow went unnoticed by the team. he was sitting at his desk, frowning over something, when the clock hit three and the decision was quickly made in his mind — go grab a sandwich or you’ll go crazy. the funniest thing for people around him (if he ever let them know) might be that he couldn’t quite grasp the reason of his interest in you. reid found his thoughts trailing off to you as he hovered over the raports he was filling out that he almost wrote your name in there. he pushed the door of a nearby cafe open, intuitively scanning the place. his eyes were all over the place until he felt someone at his back.

“shit— sir, i’m sorry, i don’t know what’s happening with me to–” you began to rumble as the man you bumped into turned to face you. your face grew redder, the second you realized it’s the same person you’d bumped into already, which only made you feel more embarrassed.

oh.

“doctor reid, i’m really sorry.” you hoped your words came off as genuine, because they were. it almost seemed like you had some sort of scheme against him that you had to bump into him whenever he’s around. “at least i didn’t have a coffee on me, right?” an awkward smile crept on your lips, trying to ease the situation.

the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as spencer was taking in your beauty. the way your eyes flickered, the way lipgloss coated your lips, the way you had your hands behind your back or the way you tilted your head to get a better view of his face. the height gap between you and spencer wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a little troubling. “thank god, i didn’t exactly have another spare shirt on me.” his repsonse made you chuckle quietly, feeling the embarrassment wash away with each word that left his mouth.

you don’t even know how much time had passed since you started your little conversation with doctor reid. even though you were the one rambling on and on, he has asked you a few times about your job, genuinely interested in what you do on set and what is your show about. he remembered the cheap looking show lila had played in, back when the bau had her case. you told him all about the plays you partook throughout the entirety of your school year and he dumped all the facts he knew about the plays on you.

you could see yourself getting fond of his presence around you, it felt eerily comforting, which for you was strange. until you moved to your dad’s place, you had rare contact with the opposite gender outside the plays, no real father figure, no closer relationship with a guy before, you had never felt so comfortable around a man, who you just met. so… it wasn’t really strange that you ended up exchanging numbers, what could be strange (for reid’s friends) was that he was the first one to call.

he kept calling, while you kept happily responding. it grew to be some sort of your thing, almost as if each of you were one another’s happy place. whenever he got frustrated with a case, he’d call you to take things off his mind, which always went smoothly. spencer was probably the biggest fan of your endless rambling about your classes or people you found annoying during the day.

the phone calls got more and more regular with each week passed, and when you didn’t call him to say good morning one day, his conscience was going absolutely crazy, his guts telling him something was off. nevertheless, his thoughts were pushed aside as his phone rung out with a call from jj, alerting on a new case.

“NYPD asked for our assistance in a possible serial killer case.” jareau explained as she handed the case files to the rest of the team. “over the course of last few days, four females were strangled before the unsub stabbed them multiple times.” she took a long sigh. “each of the girl was around the age of twenty to twenty three, studied in the state and majored in the arts fields, lived alone, but were socially active.”

a shiver ran down spencer’s spine as he heard jennifer’s words. the victimology were too familiar to you, making the unsettling feeling come back to him. pulling out his phone from the deep of his pocket, he managed to send you a quick text, asking to call him as soon as you see his message.

but you didn’t call him back. he was thinking about you all the time they were gathering more information, but there was some that shocked the team the most. the letters craved on each of the victims’ bodies. at first it seemed… like random letters, a code maybe.

“what if it’s an anagram?”

after that, spencer wrote the letters on the board, his throat tightening when the realisation hit him. the letters could be put in as your first and last name. “hotch, uh, i– can we talk, in private?” he muttered, before leavng the room the NYPD set up for them. his hands were shaking as he paced around the room, trying to find the right words to tell hotchner about his theory.

“y/n and i have been talking lately.” spencer started. “i–i got this strange feeling today, she often texted me in the mornings, almost every day in the past few days and–and she didn’t do that today.” he took a deep breath, flattering his brown shirt. “maybe i’m biased, but i think something bad happened to her, the anagram was– it was her name, hotch.” his words were falling out of his lips almost too fast for your dad to understand.

but aaron hotchner has always been the smartest guy out there, the meaning behind spencer’s words almost immediately got to him, because once again his child was in danger, he had a feeling, when he learnt the victimology, but when spencer said those words, his suspicions were confirmed. “reid. i need you to go to her apartment, i suppose you know the address?”

fifteen minutes later, young doctor was at the door of your apartment. it wasn’t exactly the first time he was there, but it didn’t matter now, not when you could be in danger with a serial killer, looking for you. “y/n?” he knocked on the door three times, when he got no answer, he did the morgan speciality, kicking the door open.

your entire flat was quiet, completely out of place. the last time he was there, around two weeks ago, it wasn’t as neat as it was right now. you had your scripts scattered around the coffee table, pillows disheveled on the couch, dishes laying around the counter, although now, everything was clean. almost too clean. then he found it, a small piece of paper underneath a cup that you made him coffee in.

you won’t keep us apart.

he recognised the fact that your handwriting was different, even though you liked keeping your place a little more messy, often calling it ‘artist’s mess’, your handwriting was neat and precise. you didn’t write this note.

“sir? you’ve gotta take a look at that.”

the last thing you remember was walking down the street, a phone in your hand about to send a quick message to reid that you’d call him as soon as you get to your flat. it was a habit of yours, texting the young doctor to give him a notice you’d call to ramble about your day. just the thought of talking to him had given you butterflies, a thought of hearing his voice after a long day at university and on set was enough to make your day better. you were about to send the message, when a guy bumped into you with so much force you barely kept yourself on ground. before you knew it, you felt an overwhelming rush of pain, passing out soon after.

your consciousness was regained, but the place wasn’t familiar. a small room with window covered with a black fabric that didn’t let any light inside. the walls had pictures stuck all over them. pictures of you, from at least four months back. each day when you were coming back from campus, there was a photo, of you at the library, at the club with your friends, going back from school, even one that captured how you giggled at one of spencer’s facts, when he visited you.

the level of anxiety peaked, when the person who locked you up came back, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the one you loved so dearly, the one’s your mom had always put up in vases at your house, the one you got from your manager after wrapping up the season one of the russos life. “we’re sorry.” he spoke out, his voice hoarse, cracking here and there.

“but we’re finally together, y/n/n.” he whispered, getting closer to you with each word. “no one will be able to keep us apart. we’re together, for eternity.” his hand grapped your jaw to make you look at him, his lips barely inches apart.

you could feel the overwhelming pain washing over you again, realizing that he probably stabbed you back there on the street — with that realisation, it hurt even more.

his hands were rough on your skin, almost leaving a burnt mark on your cheeks. he caressed it, trying to maintain a gentle manner, causing you to tear up. “please, let me go.” you whispered, looking at him with teary eyes. “please.” his rough, yet gentle hand slapped you across the face, attitude changing immediately.

“no.” he groaned angrily, gripping your jaw even harder than the first time. “you’re not leaving. not when we’re finally together. eternity, sun. together for eternity.” his words almost burnt into your mind.

how long were you there? days, weeks, months maybe. you couldn’t know. the lack of sun, barely any food and water was driving you crazy, nevertheless, right when he left you alone, you realized something that came up to you as a moral of reid’s story he told you about a certain case with a man obsessed with a woman. you had to play into his fantasy, no matter how it hurt and how painful it was, it was necessary to gain his trust.

and you did, played right into his delusional fantasy of you until he trusted you enough to make a mistake. leaving the door unlocked. you left in such a hurry, you couldn’t breathe. the air was suffocating, it was dark, so dark you felt scared that someone would attack you again.

“oh my, miss, are you okay? you’re bleeding.” a lady called out to you, grabbing your shoulder in a soft manner, the presence of a female soothing your nerves a little.

“i– i need to make a phone call, please, could i use your phone?” before you knew it, you were dialing one of the numbers you memorised by heart.

“doctor spencer reid, can i help you with anything?” his monotonous voice rang out in the phone, causing you to sigh in relief. “sorry?” he added. you imagined him frowning, like when he tried to teach you how to play chess and you kept giggling at how frustrated he was getting, while you pretended to not know a thing about chess.

“spence.” another escaped left your lips. “i– i don’t know where i am. i know you’re in quantico, put please help me out, there’s a guy, who—” you started rambling, your vision getting blurry.

“y/n, i know.” he whispered. “we’re in new york, garcia’s tracking your location right now, please stay on the call with me.”

“spence,” you started, holding onto the woman next to you for stability. “i– he’s done something to me, i think– i think, i might pass out.” your tone was quieter with each words, almost stuttering as you felt your limbs weakening.

your world was crushing down on you, the nearby buildings suffocating you, not letting you breathe, the stab wounds overwhelming. the next thing you knew, you were in the hospital, machinery plugged into you, your eyelids heavy as you opened them.

“you’re awake.” a familiar voice filled your eardrums as you tried propping up on the bed, stopped by the ripping pain. “hey, hey. don’t move, you’re okay.” his hand was in his, holding you so gently and tenderly you wanted to cry. it wasn’t like their unsub’s, doctor reid was genuine, the way he held your hand was almost… symbolical.

you had four stab wouds on your stomach that the man wrapped into a foil to stop you from bleeding out, but it ripped when you ran away. your face was bruised, marks left by his hands visible on your upper neck and jaw.

“you’re okay.” he repeated his words almost as if spencer tried to reassure himself that nothing would happen to you anymore. definitely not on his watch. “i won’t let him do anything to you again, i promise.” he planted a tender kiss on your hand, squeezing it softly. none of you realized that the rest of spencer’s team, including your father, was standing in the doorway, observing the little moment between you and doctor reid.

the one thing that burst your bubble was derek’s laughter, after having told a joke that obviously involved you, spencer and the fact that he was the first one you called after getting out of the unsub’s place. “looks like pretty boy stole your daughter from you, hotch.” morgan’s elbow nudged your dad’s side.

aaron wasn’t dumb, and from the very beginning, he knew that there would be something going on between the two of you. hotch knew that from the way reid’s lingered on you, when you visited the bureau. how his eyes would always slip to his phone or how he had to get away from the office to make a phone call, lasting all through his lunch break, so when four days ago he told his boss about the suspicions, it all came together.

“i know it’s early, but you have to tell us if you remember everything from those days.” your dad’s tone was soft. if he wasn’t so good at this job, you’d think he tried to make you relive the moment again, but hotch has always been great and you knew it, he wanted to catch the person who did this to you.

“it was, uh.” the words coming out of your mouth was weak, which was no surprise for anyone, since you could barely have your head up to look at the concerned faces of people in your room. “a white guy, his late twenties maybe. i don't remember much beside his hands. i thought of it as something that maybe would let you catch him.”

“what about his hands, sweetheart?” morgan asked. he was standing next to prentiss and rossi, who noted all the important things you said. “did he lack any fingers? had only one hand?"

“no, no.” you shook your head. "spencer told me that, um, most of the sophisticated killers have smooth hands. his weren’t smooth at all. it was rough, like if he was working since he was a kid.” images were flashing through your mind at the speed of light. nevertheless, it didn't feel enough. “it looked like he was in the middle of psychotic break or was off meds, he kept using plural pronouns like if there was another person, but he was alone the whole time i was there.”

when the interview was done, jj stayed behind to talk to you a little. her facial expression revealing that she was interested in your friendship with the young doctor from her team. “so… spencer told you?” she lifted her eyebrows, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed.

“yeah…” your reply sounded a little sheepish. “i kind of ran into him twice, when i came to your office half a year ago, the first time i was too embarrassed to say anything other than ‘i’m so sorry, sir’, but the second time was on his break, i think and it kind of… went smoothly from there.” a blush spread over your cheeks, but jennifer didn’t comment on that.

“you’d look cute together.” her words made your brain go a little fuzzy. maybe she was right, but something in your gut told you that nothing would be happen between the two of you, spencer was the type of guy in love with his work, not a random girl he met on a random tuesday. although, his mind was an enigma, how could you be so sure of that?

“c’mon, jj.” you mumbled, looking away. “we’re friends, strictly platonic.”

the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was there, even after the unsub was caught two days after you were free to leave the hospital. it was only growing, when you were alone with a man you weren’t exactly close with. as bad as it made you feel, being around your dad’s co–workers was almost paralysing. morgan, rossi, the cops involved in your case, who tried talking to you about the entire thing, it was making your hands shake.

“spence?” you whispered, after having knocked on the door of his hotel room, a day before they left.

he opened the door immediately, almost as if his guts told him you were on the other side. he looked like you’d just woken him up. his hair all over the place, his gaze sleepy. a t–shirt loose on his body as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. “hey, sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you up, thought you’d be still up.” you couldn’t bring yourself to speak louder.

“i had a feeling you’d swing by.” his words made your cheek grow hotter, because to be honest… you were thinking about seeing him, laying down on the bed unable to sleep. “what’s on your mind?” he asked, bringing his hand to your chin, causing you to look at him.

“are all the profilers doing that?” you asked, mesmerised by the way his eyes roamed around your face, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“subconsciously, yeah.” you chuckled. “don’t go off topic. something is bothering you, you know i see it.”

“i just… wanted to see you.” embarrassment rolled off your tongue, knowing that probably lots of women had already told him that. mostly, because morgan told you about the time, when prostitutes tried hitting on him during one of the cases — spencer had his charm, but you couldn’t be sure if he knew. “jesus, you can’t look at me like that, when you’re all that.”

“all that?” reid’s laughter rang in your ears as he made a step towards you, reducing the distance between you two.

“yeah? have you seen yourself before you opened the door? man, i had four stab wounds and—” you began to ramble, but his smirk and the look on his face make you stop, before another chuckle left his lips. “what?”

“nothing.”

“reid!” you groaned, punching him slightly in the arm as he still held your face, tilting it upwards.

seconds later, his mouth were on your, his lips moving against yours tenderly. his free hand squeezing your waist gently, pushing you even closer. it was the first time you felt any type of comfort in the past few days. you were completely speechless as the kiss broke off, looking at him with big eyes.

“i– you–.” you stuttered.

“it’s funny, you usually can’t stop rambling, but now you’re a stuttering mess.” he chuckled once again, his arms firm, yet gentle on your waist as he continued to tease you with a smirk that wouldn’t get off his face.

“i thought if i did something wrong, i’d not see you again.” he whispered, his nose brushed against yours. your breath hitched in your throat at the proximity. “it made me realise how many things i should’ve done before, how important you became to me, y/n. i can’t go on without a thought of you in my mind, you’re like a plague that i don’t– that i’d never get rid of.”

“i know this job is hectic and that i’m a mess most of the time, but you’re the only one that keeps me sane after what i see.” his lips brushed against yours again and you didn’t protest.

“so… you’re saying that you can’t stop thinking about me.” it was your turn to smirk at him, your heart tingling with a feeling unknown, yet so familiar that always appeared around him. “i can’t stop thinking about you, too, you know. i, uh, had this feeling that if i get out, you’d be there somewhere to keep me safe.”

“i am, and i always will, promise.”

“is it you asking me out right now?” a quiet giggle escaped your mouth, earning a hum in return. “only if you’re gonna say yes.”

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 2

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

PART 1 is here if you haven't read it

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Darkish!Rafe. Virgin!Reader. Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering. Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 8.3k words (Rafe has released the writing beast in me)

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So happy you enjoyed the first part.  Here's the second. I thought it would just be just a second part but the more I wrote the story just kept unfolding and I really want to do it justice. (I think part 1 and 2 together is the longest I've written for any fic character) So in order to really get into the angst and it not be too long its going to have to be 3 perhaps 4 parts (not sure yet) Anyway I'm currently writing part 3 so it won't be too long before posting. One thing - there's only one piece of music with this part and I would suggest playing it and leaving it running while you read the rest of the chapter.

Thank you for reading and sticking with the story and if you enjoyed it please reblog. It helps to spread the love.  Much love and take care. ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

The soft glow of your phone, quietly vibrating beside you, nudged you out of your peaceful slumber. Still shrouded in a groggy haze, you instinctively turned away from it. Without even a glance, you knew who the messenger was, and the mere thought that he had sent another text caused a weary sigh to escape your lips.

Rafe's persistent attempts to connect since that unforgettable night had been unrelenting. Ignoring his calls was relatively easy (you had silenced his number), but his text messages proved more difficult to dismiss. Simple words like "Hey," "Hi," and "Talk to me" consistently lit up your phone at all hours, serving as a gentle yet persistent plea for your response—a response you couldn't bring yourself to give, yet somehow couldn't bring yourself to block him outright either. Ultimately, you opted for what seemed the only rational strategy, although in hindsight, it may not have been the wisest: complete avoidance.

But, in truth, none of that mattered. Not when your waking thoughts and dreams were dominated by memories of Rafe, endlessly replaying the night you shared. The feeling of being completely overwhelmed that night, your pleading words that it was all too much, that you needed to stop, were still fresh in your mind. How Rafe merely smiled in response and declared it was only the beginning, sealing his promise with a kiss.

And as he kissed you slow and deep, Rafe was true to his word. His middle finger wormed its way back between your legs. He found your sensitive clit already swollen and slippery with your slick and rubbed the nub in gentle circles in sync with his languid kiss. Slow and steady, minutes ticked by as Rafe dragged out your pleasure, watching you patiently, drawing back his finger whenever he felt you were close, his tongue lazily circling yours, as you both breathed as one. Until finally, finally, he allowed you to cum.

Your body exploded for him, blinding white pleasure saturated your senses leaving you crying and shaking while Rafe whispered soothingly against the shell of your ear "That's a good girl. That's a good girl."

Your unforgettable night with Rafe was unparalleled, surpassing all previous experiences, including those with your first and only boyfriend, Jake. Granted, you had not given Jake the same liberties, but even with the awkward kisses and over-the-clothes groping that marked your brief relationship, Jake had never elicited emotions remotely comparable to what Rafe managed in just one evening. What Rafe stirred effortlessly within you was a different beast entirely — something desperate, needy, and vulnerable. The sensation was so powerful that even three weeks later, it remained, smoldering like a steadfast ember, ready to reignite under the right conditions.

This realization filled you with absolute dread. The sudden understanding that it was Rafe- Rafe Cameron that held the power to shape your desires, ignite unknown cravings, and provoke illicit responses from your body that you couldn't control, was utterly terrifying.

You had often heard tales of girls falling for the proverbial 'bad boy,' forsaking their better judgment for some reckless charmer, and had always scoffed at such narratives. The thought of you succumbing to such feelings or desires was, until recently, beyond the realm of your wildest dreams. It seemed, however, that you were not as immune as you had once believed. All it took was the right—or perhaps, in this case, the wrong—person to stir those latent desires to the surface.

The sheets felt like an unwelcome weighted blanket on your body, pressing you down as you twisted and turned, desperately trying for sleep to come. But it remained stubbornly out of reach. Instead, you found yourself overwhelmed by a flood of polarising emotions.

Chief among them was a sharp sting of shame from that night with Rafe—a shame born from the startling responsiveness of your own body to his, and a gnawing guilt that it was Rafe, of all people, who had elicited such a reaction.

Yet, beneath the layers of guilt and shame, another emotion stirred, one you fervently sought to squash: a thrill of excitement at how utterly alive you felt being dominated by him and the confusing, even more, inescapable undeniable truth—you had loved every single intoxicating minute of it.

In a small town of no more than 7000 souls, you had turned avoiding Rafe into something of an art form. It wasn't difficult, really. Your comfort zones were galaxies away from the crowded, noisy spots that seemed to magnetize him. Bars, clubs, and bonfires weren't your scene anyway.  Your day-to-day orbit included exam prep and college applications, mostly done at the library for a change of scenery, relentless babysitting shifts, and quiet trips to the edges of the out sticks with your cousin to catch crawfish —far from the exclusive circles of Figure 8. 

Life was, if not exactly smooth sailing, at least predictably turbulent. Everything seemed under control, except for one tiny, nagging detail: Rafe. And your near-pathological commitment to avoid him.

On an average day that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rest, you were navigating your way through a series of errands for your dad. The North Carolina sun was blazing overhead casting sharp shadows. As you rounded a corner bathed in this bright, unforgiving light, a figure suddenly materialized. At first, it seemed like a trick of the heat, an illusion stirred up by the sweltering atmosphere. But as your eyes adjusted, recognition dawned. It was Rafe, but he looked... different.

Your gaze drank in the details, lingering over the notable changes—the buzzcut that gave him an even more dangerous edge, the way he stood taller, seeming to tower over the world, the newfound confidence that rolled off him in waves, a palpable energy that dared anyone to challenge him.  But the transformation wasn't just physical. An undercurrent of danger clung to him like a second skin.  He looked like he had seen things. Done bad things.

Reality came rushing back, slamming into you like a tidal wave, you tried to reverse course, turning on your heels to disappear from his line of sight. Yet, your reaction came a second too late. Rafe had spotted you, and maybe if you hadn't just blown most of your cash on groceries, you would've dropped them and run.

Rafe's speed was unrivaled. With just a few long strides, he effortlessly caught up to you. Firmly grasping your arm, he swiftly spun you around to face him, and there, you saw your own reflection in his Ray-Bans. He slid the sunglasses onto his head, revealing his piercing blue eyes. He made no attempt to hide the whirlpool of emotions swirling within them.

"That's not very neighborly of you," he said. His words were clipped and tinged with anger, yet something in his expression softened slightly as he gazed at you. Was it relief? Disappointment? It was difficult to determine, but one thing was clear—his emotions were just as tumultuous as yours.

"I forgot something—"

"Oh, you forgot something?" His grip tightened, decreasing the space between you.

"Yes, from the supermarket—"

"What, the one over there?" he asked, casually gesturing over his shoulder in the opposite direction.

"A different store."

"Right, right. Well, I'll walk you there."

"No! I've changed my mind," you protested, shaking your head. Your feet instinctively shuffled backward as you attempted to free yourself from his grip. His laughter was low and dry, his hold on you tightening.

"I need to go, Rafe. Let me go. I have to get home," you pleaded, desperation edging your voice.

"You heard her, country club. She said 'Let go'." The forceful tug-of-war between you and Rafe abruptly seized as both of you turned to see Barry approaching. You'd never directly interacted with Barry, but tales of his local thuggery and drug dealing were well-known to you. He greeted Rafe with a familiarity that, given Rafe's reputation, was not surprising.

"This doesn't concern you, man. Keep moving," Rafe commanded, his gaze fixed on Barry.

"Well, I did hear her say 'let her go'," Barry remarked, positioning himself beside you.

"Yeah well, she doesn’t know what she wants," Rafe retorted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he pulled you closer, positioning himself between you and Barry.

"Just let her go, man—"

"Fuck off," Rafe spat.

Unfazed, Barry squinted and leaned in closer. "You realize how this looks, right? Out here in broad daylight?" he warned.

“Keep walking,” Rafe's jaw clenched as he squared off against Barry.

"Do you not realize what you are doing, bro?"

"I said keep walking," Rafe said icily, maintaining eye contact.

An unspoken exchange passed between the two men, concluding with Barry retreating, hands lifted in a gesture of surrender. “Alright then,” he conceded. “You do you, country club. You do you. But don't come crying to me when this shit backfires. I warned your J.Crew lookin' ass.”

After Barry's departure, Rafe scanned the surroundings before returning his focus to you.

"Where's your car?" His question hung heavily in the air as you looked up at him, fear evident in your eyes.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Rafe's voice softened, his hand gently shaking your arm. “Where's your car?”

"It's...it's not working,” you whispered.

“You walked here?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

A smirk crept across his lips. "Well, aren't you in luck? I'll give you a ride."

"No, that's... I can walk. I planned to walk—"

"Don't. Don't do that. Don’t act dumb, alright? It's nearly a hundred degrees out. What- you planning on collapsing on the side of the road?" His tone was surprisingly gentle, even as he grabbed the grocery bag from your hands. "Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill, yeah? Barry's already acting like a fool. We don't need a full circus," he stated, heading towards his truck and leaving you with no choice but to trail after him.

Rafe held the door open for you, assisting you as you climbed onto the plush leather seat. After handing you the grocery bag, he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. In a subtle move to put some distance between the two of you, you placed the grocery bag in the middle.

Rafe started the truck, rolled up the windows, and activated the air conditioning. The truck pulled out of the parking lot, beginning a mostly silent ride.

Apart from the occasional glances Rafe threw your way, the journey remained relatively quiet. He made no attempt to hide his attention, his thumb rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, and you felt like you were suffocating despite the AC. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"You look good..." Rafe stated, punctuating his words with an approving nod. The compliment stirred a flurry of emotions within you, leaving you feeling disoriented. As your heart pounded like a war drum, the silence seemed to morph, becoming dense and strangling.

"Thank you," you muttered trying to fill it. Your gaze firmly on the road ahead.

"How's your dad?" He asked, initiating a light conversation about your dad's well-being. You answered his questions with measured caution, unsure of his intentions. You informed him that your dad was coming home tonight and you intended to cook him a meal since he practically survived on sandwiches during the week in Burnsville. Rafe's thoughtful nods suggested he was listening, but there was an undercurrent of ambiguity that left you uneasy.

"What are you planning on making for him?" he asked with a semblance of innocence.

Your voice wavered as you listed the dishes, each word revealing your growing vulnerability. Anticipating his next move or comment, your heart raced and you braced yourself for what felt like an inevitable confrontation. You kept thinking he'd ask about the unanswered calls, about his ignored messages.

"Wow, you’re a real cook, not just a 'barely-can-boil-water' cook."

“I manage,” you replied.

Rafe hummed in agreement, his thumb still tapping the steering wheel albeit slower; more measured. “You know, Wheeze misses you.”

“I miss her too. How is she?”

“Good. She’s got exams coming up, so she’s been focusing on that. She's also got herself a little girlfriend."

"You seem to approve. Let me guess, Kook?" you asked absentmindedly.

"Nah, Pogue," he corrected, emphasizing the 'P'. "I guess we like what we like, huh?" he said, eyes raking over you.

Silence followed as Rafe steered away from the main road, venturing down an isolated street lined with beech trees. Decaying houses dotted the landscape, separated by wild stretches of tall bluestems and switchgrass.

"You should, you know… come by the house. See her sometime. I know she’d like that."

“Oh- I.. I would but I can't," you stammered, shaking your head "I have college applications to finish. Maybe sometime after."

“Right, right… college... applications... where are you applying?”

"Um… Kildare Community, Piedmont, Sun Valley, Crystal Coast Community--"

"What about Juilliard or Berklee? You applying to any of those?”

His question caught you off guard, and you turned your gaze towards him. Under the sunlight, his handsome profile seemed almost otherworldly.

"I hadn't really given it much thought," you confessed, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

His eyes fixed on yours, curiosity flickering in them. "Why not?"

Your answer was simple, albeit hard to articulate. "I can't afford it," you said with a shrug. Your eyes back on the unfolding road ahead when his gaze became too much.

"Don't they offer scholarships?"

"Yeah, they do. But the competition among applicants would be intense-"

"So? You're talented. Apply." he said matter of factly. "There are folks on the cut dreaming of an escape, with squat to show for it. You? You have options..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Don't squander it. Not here and definitely not at some shitty community college."

Taken aback, you struggled to find a response, and it didn't help that you could feel his eyes on you, evaluating your reaction. The remaining ride passed in silence, and by the time he pulled up outside your house, you were more than relieved.

"Thank you, Rafe," you said, quickly reaching for your grocery bag, but Rafe stopped you.

"So, that's it? Just 'thank you, Rafe?'" he asked, his jaw shifting restlessly from side to side, as though words were on the edge of his tongue, fighting to break free.

"Oh— I'm sorry, I should've offered to cover the gas. I don't have much on me, but I can--" Your words were cut short by Rafe shaking his head.

"I don't want your money."

Fear prickled your skin, "Then what—what do you want?" Swallowing nervously, you awaited his response.

Rafe's gaze flitted to your lips then back to your eyes "A kiss." he said.

Your head jerked back, unsure you'd heard him correctly.

"A kiss?" you echoed, attempting to digest his sudden proposal.

"Yeah, just a kiss," he replied. His voice was so steady, so devoid of emotion, it was as if he was merely commenting on the weather or asking if you had the time.

Your query rang out once more, uncertainty creeping into your voice, "A kiss?"

"Just one. One kiss and we call it even." Rafe's lean-in was deliberate, his index finger lightly grazing your jaw, igniting a trail of warmth along your skin and unsubconsciously you leaned into it.

"A kiss," you whispered back, your eyes locked onto his. Perhaps you didn't want things to escalate into a fight, but maybe, just maybe, a part of you wanted to kiss him. Taking a breath to steel yourself, you leaned in, brushing a swift kiss against his cheek. Almost instinctively, his lips followed, seeking yours.

"That's, that's not a kiss," Rafe breathed, his eyes growing progressively darker with each word he spoke.

Gently, Rafe curled his fingers around the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His attention was solely focused on your lips. As if under a spell, you relented, delivering a brief, innocent kiss onto his lips. But just as you began to pull away, Rafe halted you, his fingers remaining intertwined at the nape of your neck.

"Nah, that doesn't count."

"I kissed you, Rafe—" you began, your voice trembling.

"No, no. You owe me a real kiss for all the unanswered texts and the missed calls..." His words triggered a surge of panic within you and you tried to pull away, but Rafe held you firm, his gaze burning into your own. "I was worried about you. Did you know that?" he asked, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

"We had fun. I made you feel good and then you just...." He paused, collecting his thoughts, his eyes darting between your lips and your startled expression. "I thought something had happened to you. But then, I woke the fuck up and realised you were safe - you just ghosted me. You know, I even contemplated driving over to your house? But I knew your dad wouldn't appreciate that. I thought I might never see you again, and then...there you were."

Rafe's words gushed forth like a sudden revelation. "There you were, shopping for groceries to cook for your dad, playing the dutiful daughter, blissfully content in your little world, while mine was hell." He spat out the words with venom, his fingers tensing at the nape of your neck, pulling you so close that his lips were mere millimeters from yours. His eyes, swirling with turmoil, locked intensely onto your eyes, which were now brimming with unshed tears.

"So, while I'm relieved you're okay," he started, his lips curving into a slight pout as he painstakingly enunciated each word, "You owe me. You owe me for thinking about you. You owe me for worrying about you. Now, open your mouth."

"Rafe," you whispered, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

"I said, open. Your. Mouth." His voice hardened, his command leaving no room for doubt.

Your broken sob was all it took for Rafe to swoop in, kissing you passionately. His tongue probed the depths of your mouth, and you willingly complied, feeling the unmistakable force in his movements - raw, desperate, determined.

With each passing moment, Rafe deepened the kiss, leaning into you even further. He poured in his passion, demanding that you returned it with equal intensity, leaving your head spinning and your heart aching. The sheer intensity of the moment left you gasping for breath, and as Rafe's lips left yours to press desperate, kisses against your cheek and down the column of your throat you felt like you couldn't breathe at all.

"Please, I have to go, I have to," you managed to muster, pulling his fingers away and pushing him back. With a surge of determination, you grabbed your grocery bag and yanked on the passenger door, only for Rafe to swiftly reach over and slam it shut.

You turned to face him, struggling to catch your breath and see him through your teary haze. Rafe's face portrayed a picture of calm, cold calculation, with only the harsh puffs of air escaping his lips marring that composure. "You're making this difficult," he uttered, his voice echoing the icy chill of his demeanor. "It doesn't have to be."

Rafe relinquished his hold on the door, and you seized the opportunity, yanking it open. You nearly lost your balance in the process but managed to catch yourself just in time. Without daring to look back, you bolted towards your porch. Only when you heard the grating sound of his truck pulling away and tires screeching against the gravel did you risk a glance back.

The rhythmic splash of water against the wooden planks of the dinghy was the only sound as you and your cousin worked in tandem, freeing the crawfish from their nets and emptying them into plastic buckets filled with fresh water.

The usual serene ambiance of your shared task was disrupted by the thickening tension in the air, both from the approaching storm and from the heavy silence your cousin seemed eager to shatter.

"You know," she began, her voice deliberately casual, "Konnie's been running her mouth again."

You looked up from the net you were shaking above the bucket of cold water, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, yeah? What crazy story has she cooked up this time?"

She hesitated, then said with faux nonchalance, "Something about seeing Rafe with a girl yesterday. Says she looked a lot like you."

"What?" You froze mid-shake, a flicker of surprise crossing your face.

"Wild, right?”

Forcing a laugh, you attempted to balance surprise with casual dismissal. "Konnie's always been good at making stuff up."

She glanced sharply at you, her gaze assessing. "It's not ‘making stuff up’ if Barry was there to corroborate it."

The weight of the revelation pulled at your focus.

“This sounds like something out of a K-drama," you whispered, your focus back on your trap.

"Isn't it just? Our Kook King looking down on half the town like we're nothing but shit beneath his shoes, is with a Pogue. An actual born and bred Pogue. I don’t know if that’s rich in irony or if it makes him a hypocrite?" She laughed bitterly.

"Both, probably, if it were true. But it’s not.”

She nodded slowly. "Right well, Konnie said Barry tried to stop Rafe from making a scene. Why would Rafe be making a scene?” she asked, her eyes locked onto you.

Your fingers tightened around the net, your heart beating in your throat. "I don't know. It's the outer banks. People talk. They get things wrong and--"

She sighed, leaning closer. "Is there something going on between you and Rafe?”

“No, there isn't—"

“Because if there is, I need to know. Like, are you sleeping with him-“

“No!”

“Then are you dating him?”

“No- it’s not like that." You said shaking your head profusely.

"Then what's it like?"

"I babysit his sister you know that—" you faltered under your cousin's intense gaze. "He just happened to be in town when I was grocery shopping and he gave me a ride home. Nothing happened.”

Your cousin gave out a bitter laugh and shook her head. "A minute ago you were acting like it was some baseless rumour—”

"Because you were freaking me out! What else was I supposed to say? You just came at me with a bunch of questions like I did something wrong" You said, your face hot.

You couldn’t help but notice your cousin’s frustrated sigh.

“Look, I’ve got your back, regardless of whatever is going on here. And I can’t tell you how to live your life, that's for you to decide. But, Rafe-- Rafe is not the type of guy you want to be involved with in any capacity. I thought you knew that.” The distant growl of thunder underscored the urgency of her words.

“I do, and I’m not,” you said, licking your lips.

“Good. Because Rafe would never risk being seen in public with a Pogue, let alone put his reputation on the line for one. If you get involved with him, you'll be the one who ends up getting hurt."

"I know," you murmured in agreement.

She nodded and looked up at the darkening sky. "Good. Just making sure we're on the same page is all."

"We are," You nodded, barely able to meet her eyes. "We should hurry," you said quietly. "A storm's coming."

During the subsequent week, Rafe had surfaced in your life more times than in the previous three weeks of no contact. Initially, you brushed it off as mere coincidence. You saw him at the market, then again at the docks, immersed in intense conversation with his friends, and once again at the wreck when you went to pick up food. Each encounter was brief, like an encounter with a spectre and each time you slipped away, thankfully, unseen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you assured yourself that he wasn't intentionally seeking you out. You dismissed these run-ins as sheer coincidence. That's what you convinced yourself, at least.

Until the Library.

Your heart stuttered as you spotted him through the double doors just as you were about to exit. There he was, nonchalantly leaning against his truck, eyes concealed behind Ray-Bans and his arms folded.

Despite the casual stance, his presence radiated terrifying, intimidating energy. His posture, his unwavering gaze, his patient vigil - it all pointed towards one intention. It felt like you had been doused with cold water when realization struck-

Rafe was waiting.

For you.

Two choices lay before you. Either you could escape through the back door or find a window to climb out of. But deep down, you knew these would only delay the inevitable. It was time to confront the situation. Harnessing every ounce of courage, you resolved to put an end to this.

Usually, you'd carry only a handful of books, but today you had filled your tote. The thought of smacking Rafe in the head with it seemed like a good option. Adjusting the strap on your shoulder and gripping the bag firmly, you pulled the brass handle, flung open the door, and strode down the library’s stone steps, your chin lifted high.

A grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat split Rafe's face, his teeth flashing with amusement as he watched you. But you didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence. You breezed past him, leaving him behind in your determined stride.

Not long after, Rafe slipped into his truck and drove alongside you, his arm hanging out of the window, eyes flicking between you and the road.

"It's gonna rain, you know." he said. His voice, smooth as silk, echoed around you. You kept walking, acting as if his words had fallen on deaf ears, yet they hung ominously in the air.

"It's gonna rain, you know," Rafe repeated, amusement tingeing his tone.

"I heard you the first time," you snapped, your voice sharper than you had intended.

Rafe whistled in surprise. His grin only widened, “Come on, don't be like that. Get in. I'll give you a ride."

You faltered for a moment at his offer, but quickly regained your stride. "I don't need anything from you, Rafe."

"Sure about that?" He drawled, his truck moving at the same steady pace as you.

The thrum of your heartbeat in your ears underscored your steely resolve, refusing to meet his gaze. The truck's engine growled ominously at your side.

"You know, a ride with me wouldn't be so bad. In fact, you might enjoy it”

"I'd rather get hit by lightning," you fired back, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead.

Rafe removed his sunglasses and lightly tossed them on the dash. His silence was heavy, bearing witness to your defiance before his voice returned, a touch of impatience coating his words. "So how much longer are you planning to keep this up?"

“What do you mean? Keeping what up?”

“Running...pretending like you don’t give a shit—”

"Who said anything about running? I'm walking away. There's a difference."

"Oh, is that what this is? Right. Right." He drawled, the truck maintaining its constant presence by your side. "Well, it looks more like running to me."

"You can think whatever you want, Rafe. I really don’t care" Your words were as icy as a protective shield, distancing you from his unnerving scrutiny.

"You know," he spoke after another pause, his voice melting into a softer, intimate cadence, "You'd think I'd be bored by now but nah, I like these little interactions of ours. I look forward to them, actually…”

"Don't," you managed to whisper.

"Don't what?" He questioned, feigned innocence in his tone. You could hear the smirk in his voice, a symbol of triumph despite your rebuffs.

"Just leave me alone, Rafe."

"You know I can't do that," he declared with unshakeable certainty.

"Why not?" You shot back, halting to confront him and Rafe hit the brakes. As you turned to face him, the first drops of rain began to fall, soaking your skin and hair. You surrendered to the sensation, letting the rain blur your surroundings into an indistinct haze. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A fleeting wave of vulnerability crossed Rafe's face, causing his confident smile to momentarily falter. "You know why..." He began, licking his lips, as if the weight of his next words were a challenge to articulate.

"No, I don’t. Aren't there plenty of Kooks you should be chasing after? Isn't that supposed to be your speed, anyway?" Your voice was laced with a mix of frustration and genuine curiosity.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes unwavering, locked onto yours. "Okay, you want me to spell it out? Fine." Leaning in just slightly, ensuring every word landed with intent, he said, "I like you, yeah? Not some Kook or a Touron. You." And then, softer, almost a whisper against the backdrop of the rain, "You know I do." The quiet intensity of his affirmation sent shivers down your spine. It was a truth both of you had danced around, a truth as terrifying as it was undeniable. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, punctuated only by the drumming rain and the frantic pace of your heart.

You swallowed hard, battling the storm of emotions threatening to spill out. "Well, you have a peculiar way of showing it," you managed to say, your voice quivering with a mix of vulnerability and defiance. His unexpected honesty had pulled the rug out from under your feet, leaving you reeling. "You've been stalking me, trying to intimidate me, forcing me to do things I don't want to--"

"Forcing you?" Rafe’s gaze hardened as he studied your face. "Forcing you? I’m forcing you?”

“Yes, Rafe. Forcing me,” you protested, the words tinged with desperation, a last-ditch attempt to create distance between you two.

Rafe chuckled under his breath as he shook his head. “I'm forcing you, but you came harder than you've ever done in your entire life just from my fingers. I'm forcing you, but you came so many times you could barely remember your own name--"

"I never wanted any of that! I didn't ask for any of that—" You tried to reason only for Rafe to silence you with a frustrated roar, his hand banging on the steering wheel.

"Get in the fucking truck!!"

"No!" you laughed shakily “No. in fact, I'm perfectly fine. Right. Here." you declared defiantly, tilting your head back to let the rain wash over you. A temporary respite came with your eyes squeezed shut. When you dared to open them again, Rafe was still there, an unwavering, persistent figure.

With another heavy sigh, Rafe surrendered. "Alright." he nodded bitterly "Alright, You're really gonna make me do this, huh?"

"Do what?" you retorted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you could decipher his next move, Rafe abruptly killed the engine, flung open the door and stepped out into the torrential downpour. The heavens seemed intent on soaking him through. Droplets of rain lashed down, darkening his shirt until it clung to his chiseled torso, revealing the muscular contours beneath.

"What the fuck," you whispered under your breath, your heart racing from his unexpected action. There he stood, defiant against the torrential rain, every drop sliding down his chiseled features, his piercing eyes never wavering from yours.

Time seemed to stand still until, driven by some invisible force, Rafe lunged forward pulling you into his embrace, his lips fiercely meeting yours.

His lips was soft. Not demanding and you found yourself responding instinctively. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as your hands moved to grip the wet fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. You could taste the rain on his lips, mingled with the hint of sweetness from the soda he had been drinking earlier. The world disappeared.

There was only him.

The kiss deepened, Rafe's hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your rain-soaked hair, while his other arm snaked around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. His touch sent a shiver of anticipation running down your spine, setting your nerves alight. The rain beating down on you both seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the thunderous pounding of your heart.

His lips moved with a fervor that left you breathless, each stroke of his tongue against yours an echo of the underlying passion and yearning that had been simmering beneath the surface. Every sensation, every emotion was amplified tenfold in the shared intimacy of the kiss. You surrendered completely to the moment, losing yourself in the touch of his skin, the strength of his hold, and the intoxicating taste of his lips.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, the initial fervor simmering into something softer, sweeter. Rafe broke away, his breath shaky. His eyes held yours captive, and a flush crept onto his face. His fingers traced a path down your cheek, before he finally stepped back.

"We can do this two ways," Rafe murmured over the steady patter of rain on the truck's roof. Pure mischief danced in his eyes as he stated, "I can drag you kicking and screaming and trust me, I’ll enjoy every minute of it, or you can walk and get in on your own. But either way - you're getting in the truck. Your call."

Wordlessly, you pivoted and moved towards the truck, your boots crunching against the rain-dampened gravel.

"That's what I thought," Rafe replied, a victorious grin splitting his rain-speckled face as he caught your fleeting glare. Unruffled, he stretched out his hand, popping open the weather-beaten door with a familiar creak lost in the drumming rain. His hand was warm and steady as he helped you up into the seat, the fabric of your clothes already beginning to stick to the leather.

In one fluid movement, Rafe navigated around the truck, momentarily swallowed by the spray of the falling rain before reappearing on the driver's side. With a clunk, the door closed behind him, sealing out the chill and sound of the heavy rain. His wrist flicked, the ignition turning over and the engine’s steady rumble intertwining with the rhythmic tapping of raindrops on the roof.

Leaning over the seat, Rafe's momentarily searched around the back. When he reappeared, he held a well-used, grey fleece jacket, its fabric softened by countless washes.

"Here," he offered, his voice barely louder than the muted patter of the rain against the windows. He extended it towards you, his fingers brushing against yours in exchange.

"Thank you," you replied, accepting the jacket. The fleece was surprisingly warm, a welcome contrast to the chill spreading through your rain-soaked clothes.

Rafe maneuvered the truck through the storm your house barely discernible in the relentless deluge. He parked close to your porch, an unspoken gesture to spare you from the worst of the rain. When he switched off the engine, the absence of its rumble made the cab feel suddenly small. The silence that enveloped you both was thick, charged with unsaid words and emotions neither of you didn't know how to share.

Rafe turned to face you, the dim glow from the dashboard lights casting a soft luminescence on his features. Rain droplets traced shimmering paths down his face, catching on his eyelashes and hanging at the tips. His gaze held yours, searching, longing, a question lingering in his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you broke the silence. "Want to come in?" The words hung in the air, tender and tentative. "Maybe dry off a little before hitting the road?"

"Make yourself at home" you said.

With a click, you turned on the side lamp, illuminating the cozy sitting room in a warm glow. You excused yourself, leaving Rafe momentarily to fetch some things for him. From the hallway closet, you grabbed a clean towel, and after a brief rummage through your dad's wardrobe, you found a red plaid shirt that might fit him. Deciding to change yourself, you quickly slipped into a comfortable, loose faded shirt and denim shorts.

Upon your return, you found Rafe intently examining the family photos that adorned your walls. The captured moments were a mix of joyful events and everyday life: you proudly holding up your first caught fish, a close-up with you and a school friend age seven with your front teeth missing, an affectionate snapshot of your parents in a tender embrace, and a cherished image of baby you, seated on your dad's lap at the piano. Each photo was a silent testament to days that were simpler, happier.

Rafe, towering in your small living room, shifted his gaze to the old piano settled in one corner. The instrument, though aged, held a simple grace.

“It’s not as grand as the one at your place,” you remarked gently, catching his attention. As his gaze shifted to you, there was a perceptible pause as his eyes traveled down to your legs and then resettled on your face.

"But it still has its charm, right?"

“I guess,” you shrugged, closing the distance between you two and handing him the towel and shirt.

Your fingers brushed with the exchange, sending a thrill through you. With a grateful nod, Rafe dried his head and face. He began to unbutton his shirt, pulling the wet fabric from his slacks, peeling it off his body. As he revealed inch after inch of lean muscle and beautifully tanned, unmarked skin, you couldn't help but admire the flawless appearance—a testament to his privileged Kook life.

“Can't take your eyes off, can you? Want a guided tour?” He teased.

“Dream on, Cameron,” you shot back, attempting to sound casual, but the playful glint in his eyes suggested he knew exactly the effect he was having on you. The sound of his confident chuckle filled the room with warmth.

“How long have you had it?” he inquired, head tilting towards the piano.

“You mean Betsy?”

Rafe smiled “It has a name?”

“Of course. We've had her as long as I can remember. My dad got her before I was born. She’s older than I am,” you confessed with a fond smile.

"Go on, play for me," Rafe murmured, the timbre of his voice making it feel less like a request and more like an intimate invite.

The memory of the last time you played for him, and what had ensued, made you take a deep breath. But you shook off the feeling, reminding yourself that your bench was, luckily, a one-seater. "I'll play," you said with a small smile, "but you've got to promise to behave."

Rafe chuckled, leaning back on the couch, wearing your dad's shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. His smirk was wicked and teasing, the very embodiment of temptation itself. "No promises."

Rolling your eyes. You took a seat on the bench and began to play, allowing the music to flow through your fingers. Each note resonated with the room, reflecting the myriad emotions swirling within you. The gentle glow of the room's lighting seemed to dance in tune with the melody, casting warm and shifting shadows. The scent of the rain outside mingled with the familiar smells of your home, creating an atmosphere of nostalgia and present moments intertwining. As the final note lingered in the air, caressing the silence that followed, you turned to find Rafe's gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes, laden with intensity and yearning.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice filled with something deeper, something unspoken. He leaned back against the sofa, extending his hand to you.

With a deep breath, and a flutter in your chest, you walked towards him, finally straddling him, feeling the warmth and strength of him beneath you, knowing that this moment was a milestone, a turning point in whatever it was that was unfolding between you two.

Rafe's fingers delicately trailed along your thighs, taking in every curve and contour. He lingered for a moment on a mole on your left leg, brushing his thumb over its slightly elevated surface. Every touch ignited a fire on your skin, an intimate dance of warmth and desire. As his hands continued their exploration, they ascended up your sides and Rafe sat up.

Suddenly his hands wrapped around your neck, tipping your head back with a possessiveness that made you gasp. The raw strength in his grip was undeniable; he held the power to hurt you. But somewhere deep down, amidst the swirling mix of emotions, you felt an unwavering trust that he wouldn't.

With your head tilted back, you found yourself drowning in Rafe's gaze. He examined your features, delicately turning your face this way and that, softly illuminated by the nearby lamp. Every aspect of your countenance seemed to fascinate him, but it was his own features — the small scar above his right eyebrow, the striking high cheekbones, thick lashes, and those mesmerizing blue eyes — that captivated you in return. When those very eyes briefly lingered on your lips, and his thumb gently brushed against them a sharp inhale caught in your throat.

"So fuckin' pretty," Rafe breathed, the weight of his words heavy in the brief silence that followed. Then, with an urgency that stole your breath away, he captured your lips with his. His kiss was both tender and powerful, a dance of tongues and unspoken passion.

His hands moved from your neck, sliding beneath your shirt finally touching bare skin to wrap around you. The world seemed to tilt as he expertly turned, positioning you beneath him without breaking the kiss.

Rafe's fingers found the buttons of your shirt. Each one he undid was like unwrapping a gift, each sliver of exposed skin driving him further into a fervor kissing you deeper until he pulled away from your lips altogether to look down and savour your breasts.

“I knew it…” he whispered “You’re gorgeous...” and wasted no time in swirling his tongue around your pert nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His other hand kneading the tender flesh of your other breast oh so softly.

Rafe's touch sent waves of electricity coursing through your body, each sensation igniting the desire between your thighs. With every gentle tug, every teasing bite, you surrendered to your longing, your moans a symphony of need. While dampness formed at your core, evidence of your escalating arousal.

Leaving your nipple, his lips sought your cheek, his fingers deftly finding the button of your shorts, effortlessly undoing it. "I couldn't stop thinking about the way you squirted for me." he smiled, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"Ugh- Rafe, don't-" You couldn't help but groan, your hands instinctively covering your face in a mix of bashfulness and embarrassment.

"Come on, babe don't hide from me now," he urged, gently moving your hands away from your face. His unwavering gaze bore into you, with a magnetic intensity that held you captive. "It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen," he continued, his words wrapping around you like a sensual embrace. You responded with a mix of eye-rolling and a self-conscious laugh, but Rafe's touch on your jaw stilled your reaction.

"I'm serious," he insisted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Watching you moan for me all desperate and sweet. Feeling your pretty little pussy swallow my fingers... and then knowing I made you feel so fucking good you couldn't help but squirt…” Rafe groaned “Baby, I jerked off to the thought so many times I'm surprised my dick hasn't fallen off." he chuckled. "All I could think about these last few weeks was watching you cum. I wanna watch you cum." Rafe's words were a soft murmur, his unwavering gaze locked onto yours.

Adjusting his position slightly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans shorts, a deliberate slowness in his movements as he eased them down your body. His breath quickened, his eyes devouring the sight of you in your white panties, damp with the evidence of your arousal.

Moistening his lips, he carefully tugged down your panties, guiding your legs free from their confines. He stared at your pussy taking his fill.

"Pretty as a picture," he whispered. Settling in beside you, he rested his head on his palm, his gaze fixed upon you. "I want to watch you cum, but this time..." Rafe tenderly parted your legs, cradling your knees and exposing you fully to the room's golden light. "This time, I want to see everything," he murmured.

His fingers traced the contours of your mound, the subtle hills and valleys of your skin. A light dusting of pubic hair added to the texture he was exploring. There, at your slit, a glistening collection of your arousal had formed. With a gentle touch, he collected a bead of it on his fingertip, his eyes locked onto your face. Bringing his finger to his lips, he sensually tasted you, an intense hunger gleaming in his gaze.

"I’ll need to eat this pussy too..." he murmured, nodding as if confirming an important task on his list of things to do. "But let's take it one step at a time, yeah? Don't want you running away from me anytime soon." His words held a trace of humor, a playful acknowledgment of the strained heated desires between you two. You were about to chastise him but his lips captured yours in a hungry kiss. While your mouths entwined, Rafe's finger moved back to your clit, his gentle movements coaxing a moan from your lips.

Just as you were sinking into his heavenly touch, Rafe broke the kiss and gently pulled his finger away from your clit. The absence of his touch almost prompted a whine from you, but Rafe quickly quieted you with a gentle shush. With a practiced finesse that revealed a glimpse of his dexterity, he employed his teeth to deftly remove the signet ring that encircled his finger. The ring glided off smoothly, lingering briefly within his mouth before finding its place in his pants pocket. His voice, laced with desire, broke the silence in a husky murmur, "Can’t go deep with a ring in the way, can we?” With deliberate intent, he returned his two fingers between your folds and wormed them inside you.

"Oh god, oh shit-" The fabric of Rafe's (or rather, your dad’s) shirt twisted beneath the force of your grip, your fingers curling and clenching as a flood of both pleasure and pain surged through your core. He was not lying when he said he was going to go deep.

Admitting comfort at this moment wouldn't be honest, not with the way his fingers were delving inside you, pushing against your tight channel. The fine line between discomfort and pleasure was being treaded, a line that teased just on the cusp of crossing into one or the other. Strangely, there was an undeniable allure in feeling so exquisitely full and it dawned on you that even with the mingling pain you liked being full.

With a mix of awe and submission, you embraced the realization that this was indeed what your body was designed for—an intricate dance of taking and being taken. The recognition of your body's innate capacity to accept him, to welcome him so completely, was a mesmerizing revelation that you couldn't help but marvel at.

As your gaze drifted downward, you couldn't help but raise an intrigued eyebrow at the sight that greeted you. His long, skillful fingers moved sinfully, withdrawing and reentering, each motion leaving them glistening with the evidence of your arousal. The sight and sound was hypnotic, and as a drawn-out moan escaped your lips, you couldn't help but notice Rafe's gaze following suit, his own reaction mirrored in the form of a needy groan.

"God, look at you. Taking it all the way to my palm... making a pretty mess." he quipped, his voice trembling with desire as a shaky chuckle escaped him. "Does it hurt?"

You gasped in response, the honesty ringing true in your voice, "A little."

A low, almost guttural groan escaped Rafe's lips, his tongue darting out to moisten his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, but you like it, don't you? That slight twinge of pain. Hurts good, doesn't it?"

A slow, almost reverent nod escaped you as your eyes rolled backward, caught in the riptide of sensation. Your hand joined Rafe's at his wrist, a desperate yearning to connect more deeply with the source of your pleasure and the exquisite ache that accompanied it. You craved the sensation of his every stroke, each movement a testament to his mastery over your desire. Your hips began to sway, an instinctual response, seeking more friction, a little extra pressure to tip the scale just a bit further into pleasure. When you started to pluck and gently pull on your nipple you had finally reached it.

"Shit. That's it. Take what you need, baby.” He whispered. His tongue made its way back to your other nipple sucking on the tender flesh while he stared up at you. His gentle tongue swirling and firm hard fingers relentlessly drilling and your own hand gently plucking had you seeing stars and then some. You could feel his cock, thick and stiff brushing against your side as he rutted slowly against you seeking friction and for the first time you began to whine in sheer desperation, wishing he had fucked you with his cock instead.

"Use your words, baby," Rafe's voice held an almost teasing quality. "I want to know how good it feels—for next time when you accuse me of forcing you..."

You should have been mad, outraged even, by his audacity. But there was a magnetic pull in his words, a spell that rendered your protests powerless against the tide of pleasure that had you firmly in its grasp. The chorus of moans that spilled from your lips was a testament to your surrender "Don't stop- feels so good. Oh god, ‘m close. So close. Please Rafe-- please.. please... please.." Your words quivered with a mixture of urgency and need, punctuated by the ragged rhythm of your breath as your body shook.

As if on cue, Rafe applied a cork-screw motion, his fingers expertly stroking your G-spot with fervor. Your orgasm surged forth, violent and all-consuming. Waves of ecstacy coursed through your body, compelling your abdomen to convulse, and your leg to kick, a response to Rafe speeding up his efforts, fingers plunging deep while his thumb orchestrated rapid blissful circles on your clit.

"OH, FUCK-- OH RAFE!!!" Your voice filled the room as you were swept away in the throes of your orgasm. You couldn’t help but soak his fingers, and like a breached dam, overflowing and cascading, so too did your juices overflow as it trickled down to the cleft of your ass.

"Fuck—" Rafe hissed, his voice strained. "Ah, shit!" he sneered through clenched teeth. Overwhelmed at the sight, feel and sound of you screaming his name, his hips involuntarily jerked as he came. An untouched release that left him gasping for breath. His moans blended with yours, a beautiful song of shared pleasure that only ended when he leaned in for a messy kiss.

His gaze never wavered; it feasted on every second of your reaction and revelled in the glorious aftermath. You were glowing, skin flushed and alive from the intensity of your climax. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat glistening off of your exposed breasts. Legs still spread, revealing the slippery mess with his fingers buried deep in you.

If you weren't so strung out from your orgasm, the opportunity to catch a glimpse of something more in his expression might have presented itself. A fleeting flicker of his unwavering fixation taking root, a mere hint of the deeper obsession he harbored for you. But instead your eyes closed, your lips forming a satisfied, lopsided grin. You couldn’t think. In fact, you couldn't care about anything at all.

Feedback is always appreciated. Lots of love until next time and thanks for reading.

UPDATES - PART 3 / MASTERLIST

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 19

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 18, Part 20

Warning! This chapter has child abuse, neglect, racism/classism and other sensitive topics! This is a imposter sagau so expect these things frequently. Attention! This chapter is extra long as it deals with Y/N's past and present. But I don't want to force a backstory that you guys might not want. Therefore you can read and choose what part of the backstory you want to be 'canon' for your Y/N. Whether be all, parts or none of it. It's your choice.

Your earliest memory was of a hospital. A vase of dying daisies, a child-sized bedding and a window slightly cracked to let in the night breeze were the only things you remember from that day.

A nurse gently knocked before walking in without looking up from the papers in his hands. 

"How are you feeling today Y/N? I hope you aren't suffering from nightma-Oh! You're awake!"

The brief exclamation from the startled nurse pieced you in that you weren't supposed to be awake. Or maybe, you haven't been awake for a long time?

Dry cracked lips wheeze out your small plea. "W-Water…" Coming back to himself, the nurse adhered to your request and brought the cup to your lips.

It was a cool relief to your aching throat and the first thing you asked him was.

"Who's Y/N?"

That cup of water and clinically clean blanket was the comfort you had during the next flurry of events.

That day, laying in a bed on the pediatric floor of a hospital, you learned that your parents were dead.

An accident that would have presumably traumatized you had little to no effect on your psyche. When the doctor asked you what happened you didn't have an answer.

You didn't have an answer for most of their questions either. After a series of fruitless questions the doctor and psychiatrist called in, settled on the diagnosis 'Retrograde Amnesia'.

Being stuck in a medically induced coma, you had to relearn how to walk along with other basic info. The photo of your parents, friends and house went ignored on your bedside. Why should you care about people and places you didn't remember? It's not like you were going to go back.

Most of the hospital staff gossiped in poorly concealed whispers as your nurse, Malcohm, walked with you around the floor. It was all the same thing.

"That child's poor parents, to not even be remembered by the one thing left behind."

It didn't bother you much but Malcohm always shooed them away with a scowl. He was kind to you, from helping you remember your name, to remembering what your parents' names were. 

It's not like you didn't remember that you had a name or that you had parents. But all the memories you had of them were gone. All your past experiences were gone too. 

The doctors were relieved to see that your memory loss was only applied to everything before the accident and not after it too. A date to be discharged was decided and a stoic man came to greet you. 

There was no warmth or care in his voice as he introduced himself as Mr. Castio. Not a drop of sympathy as he explained that you would be attending your parent's funeral. That your relatives would be there too, to discuss who would be willing to take you in. All you could do was stare at the newly replaced daisies and nod silently. 

If there was one thing you had relearned during your time at the hospital, it was that adults were to be obeyed. With a sad goodbye to Malcolm, you trailed behind Mr. Castio into the shiny black car.

You sat in the first row dressed in traditional and simple black clothing. Multiple people came up to you apologizing for your 'loss'. With a soft nod, you thanked them and they left satisfied. Mr. Castio had already advised you to not bother explaining the situation.

All your relatives spoke fondly of your parents until it came time to name anything they liked about your parents. The whole room went silent before little hesitant whispers floated around the room.

Seems you weren't the only one that couldn't remember.

The silence only got more unbearable once the topic of who you would be going with came up. Older adults volunteering younger family members while they vehemently denied the position. 

It was only after one uncle asked what would happen to your parents inheritance that greedy stares bombarded you. Picking at the stray fabric of the cushion, you ignored them all.

Mr. Castio clarified that the money would be untouched until you turned eighteen. Immediately, everyone looked away. No one wanted to raise a seven year old to adulthood without any immediate compensation. 

The funeral ended with your parents being incinerated. No one took the urns. It made you wonder why none of your grandparents showed up.

By the end of the day it was your aunt who agreed to foster you. Mr. Castio brought you to your parents house to collect your belongings. 

The house was clean and in order but the slight dust showed that it hasn't had a visitor in a while. Entering your room, you noticed how plain it was. Not a single toy, drawing or other personal object in sight. 

It unnerved you enough that you packed quick enough to not stay any longer. Curiosity poked at you to find out what kind of parents you had but you were more concerned on what your aunt is like.

She had a son and a husband you haven't met during the months you lived there. Her son was rude but never gave you any personal trouble. It was more common for him to throw a tantrum over one thing or another then bother you.

It wasn't an ideal life, but you weren't miserable. You ate three meals, had a bed and had supplies for school. Everything is fine, life is fine.

That thought was repeated as you sat in school with paper being thrown at the back of your head. The teacher ignored the behavior and your aunt repeatedly told you to not cause trouble. Even as you ate a different meal then your cousin and slept in the cramped closet-like room.

It was fine.

Until it wasn't.

A broken picture frame laid on the ground between you and your cousin, the ball he was playing with rolled to the opposite side of the room. When your aunt walked in, he cried and blamed you for it, saying that he told you not to play indoors.

This wasn't your fault and you said as much, but no matter what you said she just shook her head. You laid in bed with an empty stomach as your cousin’s words echoed in your ears.

"You shouldn't have tried to snitch on me."

School got worse with your cousin instigating more bullying against you. The house got tense as your cousin put all his energy into making you miserable. Day after day your aunt looked more and more stressed.

You still couldn't understand why he kept picking on you. There were no plans of revenge or fights, you relatively stayed neutral and passive. Life wasn't fine but you would have stayed like that until you overheard a conversation.

"-yeah, I'm only getting that much money for fostering Y/N. Shitty, right?"

Inelligle sounds came from the telephone in your Aunt's hand as she stored her jewelry. 

"If only my son would stop taking it. He already fights so much with Y/N and I just punish Y/N because a parent should always take their child's side. That child should have just passed away with their parents if they wanted to cause trouble."

Silently, you left back to the closet with the makeshift bed. Staring at the ceiling, you slowly accepted the reality of your situation.

Her wishing you to be dead alongside your parents wasn't the issue. What mattered was that she didn't care about the truth. She knew it was your cousin who started every problem and punished you because you weren’t her kid. 

That night, sleep didn't reach you as you spiraled into plans of vengeance. 

There was no sadness or shock on your face when you eavesdropped on her phone call with Mr. Castio. You merely noted the date that Mr. Castio would pick you up from your Aunts. You always had a feeling she would give you up, it just took longer than expected.

She and your cousin left to go celebrate whatever made-up achievement he lied about. Leaving you, an eight year old, home alone to your devices. If you ignored the list of chores you had to clean for ‘provoking your cousin into hitting you’, of course.

The house was cleaned to perfection when your aunt returned. The door creaked as she peeked in to see you dusting off the bookshelf in the guest room. She left satisfied as you set a book back on the shelf, covering a broken lock.

That night she told you to pack everything as Mr. Castio would be coming the next day. You simply nodded and left the room as your cousin laughed. You smiled too when he began asking what would happen to the money as your Aunt shushed him furiously.

Breakfast was cold as usual the next day, the mocking jeers your cousin spouted rolled off you with no reaction. Rolling his eyes at your ‘tough act’, your cousin scoffed before opening his lips to spout whatever snarky remark he had. Until the door to your Aunt’s room slammed open. She stormed in and whispered-yelled to him while pulling his ear.

You didn't have to hear to know what was said. All you heard next was-

"I didn't take the money!"

She's too mad to shush him and yells back. "Then who did?!" 

He stutters as he glances around the room. His eyes lock onto your stoic face with a frustrated expression.

"It was Y/N, they took it, they took the money!" He points at you as faux tears bubble up, his pathetic little sniffles only earn an annoyed sigh from his mother.

"What money?" You ask, tilting your head. Wide eyed, you stare at them both innocently, confusion emitting from your being all the while.

Mouth agape, your cousin looks back to his mother as she pinches the spot between her eyebrows.  "You're grounded until I get back all the money I lost, or until you return it." 

He tries to argue more but the ring of the doorbell interrupts the argument. Mr. Castio is let in and he merely motions you to follow him. Your aunt leaves the room with more wrinkles than she came in with.

With no goodbye, you grab your bag and walk to the door. Pausing you glance back at your cousin, a wide smirk is clear on your face. His eyes widen as realization sets in but there's nothing more that can be done as you close the door. 

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

The sun breaks dawn as a quill scratches against rough paper. The ink is used in elegant strokes as Violetgrass is grounded and packaged. Yellow-slitted eyes read it over once more before folding it and writing the recipient on the exterior. 

Pearly white scales glint with the ray of the sun as the snake is woken up gently. Sleepily, she loops around and climbs the outreach hand to hang around the owner's neck.

"It's merely daybreak, who could be needing medicine so dearly?"

"A fever could kill, you know that as well as I do, Changsheng." A smooth, melodic voice comes from the snake-eyed man as he stands from his desk and walks toward the cabinets. The letter is put into one cabinet and another is opened to obtain an opened vial of medication.

"Herbalist Gui stayed the night to take care of this particular patient so I'll give them the last of the medication so he can go home."

Glasses perched and viridian hair tied up, Baizhu walks into the back room and knocks softly. A tired looking Gui startles as a child sleeps on the bed. Her father is slumped on the bed as he sleeps soundly, his eye bags comparable to Gui's from his many nights spent worrying over his daughter.

"Go home Gui and have a proper rest. This should be the last medication she needs, her fever has lasted over the past few days but she's stable."

"Thank you Dr. Baizhu, I'll get going now. Let me just grab my belongings."

Gui stands from the small stool and ambles around the room quietly to not wake the patient. Baizhu stands at the bedside and pours the medication into an infuser.

A low fire begins to burn as the medication is properly prepared. Soon enough, Gui leaves the room as Baizhu brings the cup to the girl's lips for her to drink. It goes down smoothly and Baizhu turns to retrieve any supplements to aid her when-

"Dr. Baizhu, there's an emergency!"

Gui bangs the door open with a troubled look as the girl stirs and her father wakes up with a start. Baizhu smiles at the father as he takes long strides towards Gui.

Gui wouldn't react this strongly unless there's a real emergency. Baizhu has worked with him long enough to tell when something is out of Gui's expertise or life threatening. 

"I'll need to step out for a while to deal with this. Please keep watching Yiran, I can assure you that she's past any dangerous stages Mr. Kuan."

Kuan nods his head sleepily and stays in his seat as Baizhu walks out the room. The door closes and Baizhu follows Gui as he asks "What's the situation?"

Gui speaks as fast as he can while walking toward the pharmacy entrance. "Qiqi was missing most of the night, which isn't abnormal, but she's at the front desk crying inconsolable while carrying a person on her back. They're bleeding out heavily and I saw multiple cuts, bruises and arrows in their body."

"I'm sorry to ask this from you but please prepare the treatment room. Once you do so, I can take care of them as Qiqi runs the front. If anything, I'll close the front until the patient is stable."

Gui nods before turning back as Baizhu steps into the threshold of the front. His eyes scan the room and quickly spot Qiqi and the patient she's holding.

Qiqi stands frozen in place as she grips you on her back. Tears roll down her cheeks without stopping, a stark contrast to her blank expression. Baizhu walks closer and kneels down to her level as his eyes dart over your unconscious body.

"Qiqi, I need you to follow me while carrying them. Can you do that?"

"Dr. Bai… Dr. Bai, they need herbs. Dr. Bai, Dr. Bai…"

Qiqi stares past him as if she doesn't register his words. Baizhu recognized the name 'Dr. Bai' easily as her name for him when she was still learning to remember.

Changsheng lifts her head as she hisses in a cooing way. "Qiqi, you want to save them, correct? We have the herbs but you need to bring this patient to the treatment room."

Baizhu reaches toward the zombie child and carefully wipes away her tears. “There’s no need to worry Qiqi, just do as Changsheng says. Remember I love you most.” 

Qiqi nods but she doesn’t stop crying much to Baizhu’s surprise. Deciding to leave that for another time, he slowly walks to the treatment room passing by an exhausted Gui who sends a worried glance at you. 

“Don’t worry about it Gui, injured patients aren’t the most frequent but I have plenty of experience caring for them. Just go home and rest.” With a sigh, Gui leaves as Qiqi stands next to the clean bed. 

You’re quickly transferred to the bed and positioned to lay on your side for a proper inspection. “You should stay outside. Qiqi. I’ll let you see them when I’m done.” Not looking back, Baizhu changes his gloves before gingerly touching the bloody wounds. Bits and pieces of scrap can be felt inside the injuries under his fingers making him frown.

“There’s quite a range of injuries on them. Not counting the bruising and cuts, there are some deep stab wounds.” Changsheng comments from her perch as she stares down at the zombie.

“Their calves have been pierced too, it’s cold to the touch with elemental traces. Someone used a cryo vision on them. Their back isn’t straight and their breathing is harsh, I’m suspecting some broken bones. They must be identified soon so I can heal them.”

As he pulls his hands away, a small metal arrow tip falls out onto the floor. “That one has hydro elemental energy, different then the cryo one earlier. Two assailants means double the bleeding.”

“Baizhu! That can be dealt with afterwards, look at their head!” Changsheng’s sudden hiss pulls Baizhu’s attention to the area in question. The pillow your head is laying has begun to be stained red as a puddle forms. Blood dribbles out of your cracked lips as your breathing becomes strained.

Dendro glows at the tips of Baizhu’s fingertips as he carefully trails his fingers across the wounds. “Changsheng, they don’t have much time left. Their qi is perfectly balanced so I’ll only need to transfer some lifeforce. That head injury is the most pressing injury but I’ll spare some power to temporarily block the bleeding.”

The puncture wounds shine a soft green and the blood on your loose, shoddy bandages slow down. A pained gasp breaks free from your lips at the accident brush against your cracked spine.

Baizhu and Changsheng both peer down at your head, your matted hair knotting from the blood makes him grimace. “Their skull met with great impact but it’s not fatal.”

“Not yet, at least.”

“This mask needs to be removed for proper circulation and examination. More injuries may be hiding beneath it.” Baizhu speaks absentmindedly as he changes gloves and begins to reach toward the bloody mask on your face.

Your eyes snap open, making Baizhu freeze in surprise until you push him with enough force causing him to stumble. Changsheng hisses in retaliation as Baizhu steadies himself.

You stumble off the bed with a sway as blood rolls down your forehead. With glossy eyes and cracked lips you speak slowly. "Don't… touch it…"

Baizhu and Changsheng share a worried look at each other before focusing on you. Taking a step closer, Baizhu raises his empty hands in an act to calm you.

"Now, now, I'm just trying to help you. That mask is obstructing my care and can cause a serious problem."

"I… said… NO TOUCHING!" Your arm flails to the side, knocking over objects and causing a loud crash. 

An animalistic yell rises out of your hoarse throat while your limbs swing around in agitation. Baizhu keeps a safe distance away as he watches you.

"This enraged fool will be the cause of their own death!" Changsheng yells over the sounds of vials and glasses crashing.

Baizhu doesn't respond as he stares at you, your every movement is carefully noted under watchful yellow eyes. 

Your pupils blown wide, trembling body, and strange movements weren't lining up with a simple blood loss excuse.

A small hand tugs his pant leg as your rampage slows to an end. Baizhu looks down at the red rimmed pink eyes of the zombie child.

"What is it, Qiqi? Do you have something that can help them?"

Changsheng keeps a watchful eye on your exhausted body as your endless mumbles of refusal continue. Your bag in Qiqi's hands is handed over to Baizhu without a word.

"Is this theirs?" A single nod before she steps away to stare at you with a seemingly worried frown.

Baizhu opens the bag to find it completely empty. Not a single speck of dust or dirt can be seen in it unlike your dirty, ripped clothes. But before he closes it, he spots a tag on the inside of it.

'Property of Y/N L/N'

With that new information, he sets the bag down on a farther table and looks back to you. You stand trembling next to the bed as pieces of broken objects litter the ground. With slumped shoulders and eyes threatening to roll back, your voice cracks with every mumble.

"Don't take it off. Can't take it off.. Won't let you take it off…"

"Y/N? Is that your name?"

No reaction comes from you. He tries again. "Y/N, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"

Again nothing, not a twitch, not a flinch or even a slow in your mumbles. With a tired sigh Baizhu makes up his mind.

"Changsheng we have no other choice, I'll knock them out so be prepared to share my life force with them during the struggle."

"No."

Baizhu looks down at the snake in slight surprise, Changsheng speaks in a wary voice.

"For whatever reason, Teyvat is reaching out to me in warning. Don't take off the mask, keep it on and heal what you can."

Baizhu spares one more glance before sighing. "If that's really what you believe then we will do things your way. Perhaps Y/N's body is stuck in a fear response and may actually kill me."

Baizhu carefully steps past the shards and approaches you with a gentle smile. "Qiqi clean up the mess, lest our patient injure themselves on it. As for you Y/N, you can relax. I will not take off your mask, you are safe here."

Immediately your eyes roll back and you collapse to the ground. Baizhu was swift enough to catch you before any injury but your reaction was enough to cause him grief.

"Qiqi, as soon as you are done, manage the front for me. This will take a long while."

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

Change was something you grew used to during your childhood. You changed schools, caretakers, friends and homes long enough to know the process by heart.

Adapting was another thing you were good at. Shady houses with out of control classmates and unending fights meant that it was a dangerous place. That you had to stay low and be on edge constantly. Everything you owned had to fit in your locked bag or else you would find it missing the next morning.

It was a bit easier in the city where most were working class. Making friends would be too much trouble and fairly fruitless. You were content to stay invisible and deal with any problems outside of public view. Some students just didn't know how to describe you, some were too fearful of what they accidentally saw to say anything about you.

The most and least stressful was the rare times you ended up with a rich family. On one hand every student knew you as an orphan but at the same time, rich kids loved to feel like heroes. All you had to do was play the weak and kind student. Nearly every student flocked to be your guardian angel as you showered them with compliments.

You never lacked lies and stories to tell but you also never stayed in one spot for longer than a few months. Each time Mr. Castio got more and more fed up with you. From a stoic disappointment to a quiet rage filled with belittlement. 

It was at 12 years old that you got fostered by your third wealthy family. They already had children, a daughter your age and a son who was barely three. You already knew that you would be their designated babysitter.

After a month of living there, you began to truly enjoy it. There was no mistreatment, obvious favoritism, a nice allowance, and even your own room. Even though you held no love for them, you followed your foster parents requests with no trouble.

Cleaning, babysitting, organization, yard work, sewing and more spontaneous jobs. Not only did they give you a bonus for the work, they also let you buy stuff with it when you asked. 

You didn't need to be constantly catered to like their daughter, you were just happy to sleep without fear of getting robbed, an empty stomach or bruised skin.

After a while you began to realize just how much you depended on them. It worried you, you agonized endlessly about getting attached and abandoned. You worked harder at school, gave in to their request full of smiles and got along with their children swimmingly.

The longer you stayed and obeyed, the larger the possibility of them adopting you or at least fostering you till adulthood became. 

But, you really should have known better. You’ve gone through it so many times, yet it seemed you still didn’t learn your lesson on who you can trust. The only person who truly had your back was always going to be yourself.

A normal day, a nice lunch and a polite request to do the dishes, something you were happy to oblige in. The sponge absorbed the soap and water letting you wash the dishes with ease. The chore is second nature to you.

 Their daughter was out of the house, probably hanging out at a friend's house. Their son was with them in the dining room as their chatter reached your ears clearly.

“I’m so glad we got lucky to foster such a kind child.”

“As am I. They work hard, get along well with everyone, and help us around the house without complaint.”

Their praise was something you were still struggling to get used to. But it made you happy nonetheless. You couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it was an exaggeration or a lie no matter how many times you chided yourself.

“That’s true, I never expected a kid with that upbringing could be so smart.”

“What child wouldn’t do well with us taking care of them? They struggled a bit at first but they seem to realize what a good deed we did with fostering one of their kind.”

The water running down your fingers felt colder, almost like ice was traveling through your veins. Was that really what they said? Did you hear them correctly? You held onto some semblance of hope that they weren’t speaking about you like that. But the longer you listened, the smaller your hopes shrunk as your doubts grew.

They spoke about you as if you were a pet. Due to what? Being an orphan? The class difference? Your race? Your gender? Or was it just you? All their past compliments and words that seemed innocent are thrust into a new light. One full of demeaning words hiding as kindness.

The dishes in your hands become like dynamite. Just one drop and it’ll set off a whole chain of events where you can tell them off. To scream insults and obscenities from feeling tricked. Yell at them exactly how you feel, how angry it made you to be spoken as if less than human. As if less than them. 

Instead, you set the clean dish onto the drying rack. A deep breath is taken and then two more. Impartial rationality is focused on as your wounded heart is shoved away.

You have a good home, you aren’t being abused. Taken advantage of? Yes, but you get paid for it. This isn’t a family, it’s a job. It’s the best foster family you’ve had by far. They were wealthy and if you played your cards right, you could graduate from this upper class school and get a good job. 

It’s a good deal. It’s the best deal someone like you will ever get. You should be grateful, you don’t need their affection, love or attention. You just need to survive long enough to support yourself. You shouldn’t ruin a good thing.

Those words play on repeat as the last dish is set on the drying rack. The sink is turned off before you grip the counter tightly. Water is drained down the sink as you tell yourself that you’re just angry. Your blurry vision is just from anger, you remind yourself over and over again.

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

A strong stench of iron permeated the room as skilled hands continued to work on your body. Blood splatters stained Baizhu’s clothes, sweat on his temple as he carefully traced the wounds with Dendro glowing on the tips of his fingers. Life force was continuously given to you as Changsheng stabilized Baizhu’s weakening body.

With the most pressing injuries taken care of, Baizhu examined your bloodstained back. The broken and fractured bones there were the next in line to be treated. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the bedside, he raised them to the midline of your clothes.

“The blood is keeping the clothes stuck to their body. We don’t have time to pull the clothes off carefully.” The small mumbles left Baizhu as he concentrated on not accidentally nicking your skin. 

Once done, he set the scissors aside and pulled the remains of your clothes off. A clean wet cloth is gently used to clean the blood off as your skin becomes visible. Simultaneous gasps leave the contracted pair as the cloth is dropped.

“Those scars! Baizhu, this isn’t a mere coincidence anymore. This person is much too similar to The Creator. Those scars are exactly as described in the scriptures.” Changsheng’s frantic hissing doesn’t reach Baizhu as he stares sternly at the marks in question.

His lips part hesitantly as his eyes never leave your body. “We should leave it be….”

“And what reason may that be?” Baizhu reaches an ungloved hand to thumb the old and faded scars as chills run down his spine.

“While it may be true that they are suspiciously similar to the Creator, there is more to this situation. The most widespread theory on why their blood is gold is that their blood is supplied with pure elemental energy and oxygen unlike everyone else that simply wields elemental energy. Even inhuman beings don’t have elemental energy coursing through their veins.”

Baizhu focuses his attention back on your bones as Dendro is summoned by his vision again. Changsheng rests herself with a tense posture as she waits for Baizhu to continue.

“Y/N is bleeding red and naturally absorbs my Dendro seamlessly. Furthermore, the scars on them have a strange aura on them.” Changsheng gives a look to Baizhu silently conveying her theory.

He shakes his head in response and clarifies. “It’s not god remains, but it’s similar. If god remains are like a natural poison and plague on a body, then this aura is the cure. The best way to describe this is that they are god cores. I believe it’s connected to the reason their qi is perfectly balanced despite the situation.”

Changsheng settles down at Baizhu's words as she watches him continue to care for you. Your breathing hitches as your bones are healed and snapped back into place. A low wail is all that can leave your throat.

“So Y/N is something in the middle? Will you really care for them even if it means taking care of a potential imposter?”

A heavy silence follows the question as Baizhu’s natural smile softens. The medical supplies that were used during all these hours litter the room in a mess. His gold eyes stare down at your pale, trembling body. 

“Yes, I will. They are still a patient that was brought to me. If they truly are an imposter then the Millelith can deal with them after they’ve healed properly here.”

Baizhu cleans his hands and changes gloves once again as he examines the remaining wounds on your body. Smiling down at Changsheng, he speaks smoothly “Shall we begin the final stage of their treatment?” 

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

Middle school reaches its end and the summer before high school came. You had passed with a high grade from your many long nights spent awake. Long days spent babysitting their son while upkeeping the chores while their daughter played leisurely. 

You felt proud of yourself to pass with those grades while dealing with them. As the months went by, your foster parents felt less and less of the need to treat you the same as their children. At the end of the day, they still paid you so everything was fine.

Summer was reaching its end and you were creating a list of items you would need for the new school. Halfway through, a soft knock on your door broke your focus. Your foster parents stepped in and asked you to join them in the living room.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nodded and followed them. Were they planning on giving you up? So close to the new school year?

The moment you sat down, they dropped the metaphorical bomb. "We want you to stay back this year and go to high school next year instead."

That wasn't so bad right? You just need to wait another year to start high school. It's not like you could be thrown out at 18 with no high school diploma, left to fend for yourself after giving up a year of school for them.

It's safe to say that you reacted badly to the news. Every 'Why?' was given a half hearted answer that changed constantly, and when you put your foot down and said no, something about them shifted, as if a curtain had been lifted or a coin had been flipped.

The once kind and gentle gleam in their eyes dulled into something akin to annoyance. As if you were doused with cold water, the atmosphere became tense and you just knew that you messed up. You, who had been so careful to stay on good terms and always abide by their request, was looked upon with coldness. 

“A child like you should not be giving us this disrespectful attitude.”

“We’ve clothed you, fed you, provided everything in that room. And it’s now with this single request that you’re rejecting us this harshly?”

The lecture goes on and on. Told how grateful, how sorry, how happy you should be. Cruelty laced every word has their arrogant figures towered over you. There was no chance for you to speak up, the helplessness you felt only pushed you down further.

At the end you were sent to your room with the date of your ‘fostering’ decided. The suitcase you took out and began to neatly fill felt foreign. You truly believed that you would be staying here until your 18th birthday. With the room bare and your eyes puffy, you tried to sleep.

Thoughts of what you should have done came to you in waves. You should have just accepted it. Even if only as a facade and found some way to prevent them from alerting the school in time. You wouldn’t have lost anything, if only you weren’t so stupid.

Tears spring up and it’s wiped away harshly as more replace it. Bitten lips begin to bleed as you hold back any embarrassing sobs that crawl up your throat. It’s only as footsteps are heard outside your room that you freeze.

Eyes wide you listen to the conversation as the sadness turns to bitterness. The bitterness wraps around your heart and squeezes as you learn the truth behind the matter. Their precious daughter had failed her grade and they just couldn’t let their child be upstaged. 

Teeth grinding, you sit up from your bed and begin to dig through the stash of objects you’ve found throughout your time in this household. A plan forms in your mind that all depends on what opportunity is given to you.

Your ex-foster parents announced a dinner to be held at a fancy restaurant and dropped the responsibility of watching over their son on you. Their daughter cheers happily at the sound of her favorite restaurant being chosen as you go to your room. Curled up in the bed, you try to ignore the stabbing pain in your heart.

The door slowly opens as the house goes quiet, their son toddlers to your bed with wide worried eyes. Chubby fingers pat your cheek softly “Are you okay? You sad?” The broken sentences are cute as he stares at you sadly.

Sitting up, you pet his head and smile at him. Your eyes are a strange swirl of emotions as you reassure him of your well being. The next sentence is a familiar one, just with different intentions than all the times you’ve asked before.

“Do you wanna play a game of hide and seek?” The smile on his face is so bright that you almost feel bad for your actions. 

Mr. Castio picks you up the next day, your ex-foster family waves goodbye to you as you enter the car. Their son cries and begs his parents to stop you as they soothe him calmly. Their daughter is the first to leave as you close the car door.

“How could you fuck up such a good deal?” The harsh words are spoken easily now that privacy is ensured. Wrinkles are as clear as his scowl as he drives away and out of the neighborhood. 

“I got you to be fostered in a family like this, and you couldn’t just go along with what they asked? I never had much expectations for you, but did the amnesia take away your brain too? Actually, you were probably born this way.”

Curling your knees into your chest, you try to ignore his demeaning words. Round two of being treated like a worthless child began as you endured the long car ride. The more he spoke, the more you shook.

“-really. Making my life harder than it has to be. All because you couldn’t shut your damn trap. Is your useless pride worth more then-”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up instead?!” That was all it took for the loud argument between you both to begin. You had already tried to play nice with one set of arrogant adults, why should you deal with another?

A pained smirk crawled onto your face as you cursed Mr. Castio out who didn’t hesitate to dish it back. Whether it was being nice and submissive or being rude and blunt, both had the same outcomes.

You sincerely hoped that your ex-foster family would enjoy the gifts you left for them to find. 

The drugs you had placed in the nightstand for the strict and uptight breadwinner to find. The photographs of the breadwinners affair you printed and left for the house spouse to find in the cupboard. And finally the positive pregnancy test you set in the liquor cabinet that they never failed to open at dinner time.

By all means, their ‘perfect’ family should fall apart, it was just a shame you couldn’t see the fall out yourself… It didn’t stop the unease and slight guilt you felt for their son who had truly done nothing to you. It’s not like your actions would have too much of an effect on him right? You, you weren’t wrong.

Right?

At the lack of insults, Mr. Castio stopped his verbal abuse. Deep in thought, you stared out the window as the scenery passed by. Where you would go next was not known but it was all right. You would find a way to survive, you always did. 

You had to.

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

Calloused hands smoothened the blanket on your semi-healed body as Baizhu ignored the exhaustion setting in. The sun was high in the sky as the afternoon lull began to set in. Qiqi opened the door slowly as she peeked in, her eyes trained on your bandaged form.

“Dr. Baizhu, is it done?” Her hesitant voice was answered with a smooth smile and a calm voice. “It is, but Y/N needs their rest. You’ve been tense since you brought them in at dawn, that’s not good for you. Go to the courtyard and practice your arithmetics.”

Qiqi gives a small nod before walking away. With a sigh, Baizhu cleans up the remaining mess from the long treatment. “You’re exhausted, Baizhu. Stop acting tough and get some rest.”

Changsheng’s snotty but caring tone is clear to Baizhu as he walks out of the treatment room. “I’ll instruct Qiqi to gather some more herbs once she’s done. Before I can rest, I’ll need to check up on the counter. Gui should have arrived an hour ago.”

Opening the door, Baizhu is greeted with the sight of Gui giving a farewell to the last customer. At the sight of the doctor, Gui perks up in interest. “How is that patient? Did they make it?”

“Thankfully they did, but they’ll need to stay here a few days for the more severe injuries. I believe their name is Y/N, so address them by that name until we can ask them ourselves..”

Gui nods in response as Baizhu looks through what herbs they still had to use. Different prescriptions come to mind as he filters what information he knows of Y/N. What could trigger an allergic reaction, what medicine could have been consumed beforehand? What prescription is affordable without having too many side effects?

Those thoughts consumed his mind as Qiqi returned and he mindlessly instructed her on what herbs to gather according to the prescription of his choosing. Gui leaves deeper into the pharmacy as Baizhu finishes and stores the medical file safely.

Did you have any means to pay the treatment or follow up prescriptions? Any family to contact for visiting and support? You wouldn’t be the first patient to have no one to rely on but Baizhu still couldn’t shake off the feeling of something more going on with you. 

It was quite perplexing that he, who took great care to focus on being the best physician and on his own contract, was so drawn in by you. With a tired sigh, Baizhu pushed up his glasses as Changsheng raised her head to look behind him.

A knock on the doorframe only urged him to turn around and look at the unexpected visitor. With weary and suspicious eyes Baizhu stared straight ahead, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Lips curled into an ambiguous smile and with a polished voice, the visitor replies.  “I hope so, do you happen to have a patient wearing a mask?”

This chapter was fun to write, what writer doesn't like giving a trunk ton of trauma on their protagonist? I get 18 years to configure to my liking, what did anyone expect? But as always you don't need to consider this your Y/N's backstory. In truth I won't have you think back to these memories much as you have moved on from that past. You have for a long time. This is just the 'canonical' explanation as quite a few of you seemed to like my version of Y/N. Which makes me very happy! My editor approved of this idea, and edited it quickly enough for me to pump it out. I deal with the heavy work and don't need to do the annoying work! Also feel free to ask if anything was confusing. One last thing, after I got rid of the spam/porn bots I saw that I reached 1k followers! That's pretty amazing but I'm not sure if a special should be done or not. And if so, what should I do?

Taglist: Check Masterlist for more details but everyone is welcome to join it!

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[goodgirlofglory]

A successful trial run/ One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 9,2k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, smut, making out, nipple-play, dry-humping, coming in pants hehe, me making up a lot of unconvincing sciency talk about tech and engineering and whatnot.

Summary: As a newly recruited scientist in the royal technical institute of Wakanda, your first task involves a certain Winter Soldier fresh out of cryostasis and in need of a new arm. Intrigued by his mysterious figure since forever, you’re brimming with fascination over the subject. Little did you anticipate capturing his eye in return. 

Note: This takes place somewhere between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Avengers Infinity War. Kinda wanted to write something from the time Bucky spent in Wakanda. I enjoyed writing this one, hope you enjoy reading it😘 Likes, replies and reblogs are amazing. Luv you guys, you are the best, i am always so grateful and excited to receive all your feedback💕💕🦋

The first time the Winter Soldier entered the lab, he was flanked by the entire Dora Milaje and led by the king himself. Apart from the usual ceremony of greeting the king and his guest of honor, no one seemed jittered nor particularly preoccupied with the new project - or its primary subject. The engineers, scientists and technicians of the royal technical institute and Wakandan Design group were used to making much more extravagant and complicated designs than a prosthetic arm. 

It was a regular Tuesday for everyone - except you, that was. Extraordinarily gifted from a young age, you had quickly advanced and surpassed your peers and even superiors in your studies at the university of the capitol. Subsequently, you were the youngest person in the lab - apart from princess Shuri herself. 

And you were almost jumping out of your skin with excitement at having the Winter Soldier as your very first test subject. Or rather, you were on the team that was to build his next vibranium arm. You’d read all about him and watched all the news over the years, but you had started working in the lab after he’d been brought to Wakanda and put in cryostasis, so you’d never actually seen him in the flesh. Now he was out of cryo for rehabilitation and with that came the need for a new arm. Shuri had picked the team herself, and to your utter surprise, chosen you as a part of it. 

Your task was fairly simple: organize and execute the fitting of the prosthetic prototypes with the subject himself, take notes and report to the team whatever adjustments the soldier would prefer. The others would do most of the engineering, creative modeling and building - the more prestigious work. You didn’t really care that your tasks were relatively simple and low level though - it was an amazing learning experience for a newbie like you. Plus, it meant you were the primary contact person for the soldier himself, which had you flushing hot for both professional and decidedly less professional reasons. 

The soldier was an enigma; lethal chaos and extreme discipline spliced inside the body of what was once a regular American. His mythos was both intriguingly detailed and all at once a mystery - a sort of dangerous puzzle you couldn’t help but be drawn to like a moth to a flame. Everything he had lived and experienced and represented was so very very far from your own safe and mundane world. It wasn’t that growing up in Wakanda had been boring per se, but everything was just so… perfect, and despite yourself, you were drawn to the Winter Soldier and the extraordinary case of his unusual life. And from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, you knew you were out of your depth. 

He was beautiful - in a rugged, unpolished sort of way; raw and hauntingly real, he only seemed to move when it served the explicit purpose of his visit. Otherwise, he stood still as a statue. He had an air of mystery to him, but despite his huge, menacing and burly form, he wasn’t scary. His eyes were soft, the babiest of blue, his stubble revealed tiny streaks of silver, and his hair, though washed and groomed, had a consistently shaggy look to it that made him seem…human. Just another regular white guy to everyone else in the lab - the most intriguing person in Wakanda to you. 

Along with the king, the soldier had silently shaken the hand of everyone on the team, looking them in the eyes with a polite, though quite stoic expression that betrayed nothing of what was happening on the inside. You’d stared at him as he'd made his way down the line, scrutinized every inch of his face, trying to gauge the tiniest twitch of muscle, any indication or hint of emotion - to your utter astonishment, you could see nothing. Then he'd reached where you stood at the end of the line of team members, and your heart'd kicked into a sprint at the way he suddenly loomed before you in all his muscled, mystical and deadly glory. Holy shit, he was huge, surely a foot taller than you, with the most obscenely broad shoulders and thighs that bulged in a way that had your mouth going dry.

Get yourself together! Stop ogling the subject!, you had admonished yourself harshly.

By the time you got back in contact with your body and reached a hand out to him, your palms were sweaty and your face hot. And then, as he engulfed your hand in his pale, calloused one, hot like a multilayered sonic solar panel during july, you thought you saw a muscle near his eye twitch, catching your gaze the same way his eyes did a moment later when they glinted with something suspiciously alike curiosity, a flashing moment of undivided interest that had you flushing even hotter. 

Oh yeah, you were in big, big trouble. 

§

Three months later you no longer broke out in panicked sweating whenever Barnes came in for a fitting (most of the time). You’d had a total of four meetings so far, all of which had been professional, short and silent. Barnes hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you in all your time together in the lab, and none of them of much importance.

("Here?" he'd asked that first fitting when you’d asked him to take a seat on the surgical bench. 

"No" he'd said when you asked if the new fastenings at his shoulder were uncomfortable.

"Yes", he'd said when you’d asked if the first prototype arm was lighter than what he was used to.

Other than that, the winter soldier mostly communicated in grunts, nods and shakes of his head.)

The hiss of the sliding door alerted you to his arrival as you were readying the newest prototype for the fitting, and just like always, the door was the only sound even hinting at his presence. He was impossibly silent for a guy his size. 

“Sit down, please, I’ll be ready in a moment,” you threw over your shoulder, keeping your eyes on the clasps you would try on the shoulder today. 

When he didn’t answer and you could hear no sound of the shifting padding on the surgical bench, you threw a look over your shoulder and froze. 

Barnes stood by the bench, his one flesh arm raised high, fingers adjusting something on the…bun on the back of his head. His…bun of…gorgeous, thick locks of shaggy brown hair. You gulped, a tingling sensation of adrenaline starting to well up in your chest. He hadn’t worn his hair like that before, at least not around you, and man were you a sucker for a nice hair do on a man. Combined with this man it seemed to be suddenly and quite effectively lethal. His locks were collected and pulled away from his face, revealing high, chiseled cheekbones and a jawline that could cut diamonds and -

A screw fell out of your hand as your mind worked overtime to process the image before you, and then, so quickly you didn’t even see him move, the soldier was there, crouching at your feet, catching the screw before it could clink onto the floor. 

It felt like an eternity went by as you stared at his bent form slowly straighten up up up to his full height, the screw looking more like a grain of sand in his big, calloused and rough hand, his body so close you swore you could feel the warmth radiating off him. The lulling scent of fresh earth and spices filled your nose, taking you to luscious lands far away. 

You heard the hitch in your tiny, involuntary intake of air like a siren in a dead silent night, and your face blazed to a million fucking degrees, your heart galloping in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you looked up into his pale eyes - eyes that betrayed nothing in an equally neutral face. 

Fuckfuckfuck, he’s so close. Fuck, his eyes are so blue, shit, he smells good, is that freckles on his cheek bones - 

He held the screw out expectantly, and you mentally shook yourself for being so fucking slow. Stop ogling him! Take the screw! With fingers you were relieved to see didn’t tremble, you reached out and plucked it from his light grasp, furiously not hyperfocusing on where your skin grazed his. 

“Um,” you started, and painfully cleared your throat before trying again, cheeks burning, “t-thanks. Please, sit.”

He stayed unmoving for half a second longer than was strictly necessary, and then he turned and moved to sit on the surgical bench. 

Turning back to your table of tools, you took a few calming breaths, breathing as softly as you could in case the soldier could hear you (which he probably could quite well considering what you’d read about his enhanced body and senses.)

You turned back to find him watching you from a seated position on the bench, eyes following your movement as you walked up towards him, pulling your table behind you. You plastered on your best carefree smile and picked up the prototype vibranium arm, sleek black with silver accents, and like you always did, held it up so he could inspect it if he chose to. Like always, he didn’t seem remotely interested in the design. Only, he didn’t stare ahead out into the room like he usually did during these parts of the fittings. Instead his eyes remained on you, his form so fucking unmoving he could be a statue. You swallowed thickly, absurdly nervous. His scent still lingered in your mind. 

He’d removed his shirt, revealing the new shoulder prosthesis in the same black as the arm, fitted to mold over his scarred tissue and make a clean transition from steel to skin. Your eyes caught on the tiny sliver of golden, muscled skin peeking out from where his white t-shirt had been cut above the shoulder, and you quickly averted your gaze even as your mind started conjuring images of wide expanses of soft, golden skin under the tips of your fingers as you explored under rays of soft, morning sunlight. 

Why did he have to look so god damned good, with his stupid hair up in a stupid bun and stupid t-shirt that dared show even a square centimeter of his stupid skin, you thought perturbed as you started fitting the arm to the shoulder, hands working on autopilot while your mind frayed at the edges. 

All through the fitting, you felt his eyes linger on you, not staring per se, just…observing. Three times you peeked up from your work to catch his eyes on yours, and three times you hastily averted your gaze back, your cheeks heating anew, your heart picking up speed. He’d never done that before. He’d always just stared at the floor or the wall during his fittings, eyes vacant, seemingly far far away. He’d never been fully present, never watched you, very rarely met your eyes. It was what had kept your own visceral reactions to such a minimum you could easily manage them. But now, under his weighty gaze, your body started tingling all over, sweat gathering on your brow, your breathing going just slightly too fast. You didn’t know if it was excitement or some instinctive fight or flight-reflex kicking into gear. Why was he looking at you like that?

“There,” you said just a little too hastily when at last the final screw was in place. You retreated to the other side of the room under the guise of organizing your tools back into their rightful place on the wall. “Please test it out, feel how it fits, tell me how it feels,” you said with your back to him, reciting the instructions you always gave him during this part of the fitting. Usually, you observed him closely as he walked around the room, lifting the arm, flexing the fingers and grabbing at random objects to test grip and reactivity. Now it was all you could do to not flee the room all together due to how embarrassingly flustered you were. The fittings in themselves weren’t really necessary from an engineering perspective - the royal technical institute all but guaranteed the highest mark of quality and a near zero percent chance of faults. The fittings were more beneficial from a psychological point of view - to give the subject a smooth transitional introduction to their new limb. 

You heard him shuffling about for some time while you randomly moved tools and screws around your table while trying to collect and promptly ban all the inappropriate thoughts running wild in your head. It was so unprofessional to be affected like this! Sure, he was handsome (wildly so) but you couldn’t call yourself a proper scientist if you acted like this! It was disgraceful! Even as you scolded yourself for being this way around the poor, innocent hunk - SUBJECT - your mind flooded with the thoughts you tried so hard to keep at bay. What did his hair feel like sliding through your fingers? Did he always gaze so intently? What would those eyes look like in dark rooms surrounded by soft sheets? What would that new metal hand look like wrapped around your - 

The sound of a throat clearing had you yelping - for fuck’s sake, girl - and whipping around to find him right behind you, looking down at you with that expression that betrayed nothing. 

You stared up at him for a moment, heart thumping in your chest, stunned to silence by his clear initiation of contact, and then abruptly found your sense. 

“Does it feel right? Is anything uncomfortable or -”

Your words died out as he extended the vibranium hand between you. He let it hover there, hand straight, expectant. You stared for a moment, and then praised yourself for daring to reach your own hand out to clasp his, a bit unused to the flip to using your left hand to shake his, hoping to God this was what he was getting at and that you didn’t just make a fool of yourself. 

Your interpretation was correct, and the smooth, slightly cold metal closed around you, dwarfing your hand. The soldier squeezed your fingers and then shook your hand a bit stiffly a couple of times before stilling. You gulped, acutely aware of your heartbeat running a gallop in your chest, the silence around you so severe you could hear your own breathing like a wind tunnel. The feel of the vibranium, so alive in this form and shape, squeezing your fingers in a firm, unyielding grip had new, strange sensations slowly trickling south, and you fought the instinct to clench your thighs as unwelcome heat pooled in your lower stomach. Mortified by your own, inappropriate and decidedly unprofessional reaction, you hoped to all the dead kings and Bast herself that the soldier didn’t notice. Disturbingly, there came no sound from the soldier, not even from his breathing. 

After a moment of nothing happening, the both of you just standing there, clasping hands, you dared a peek up at his face. He was watching you again, but instead of pale, dead eyes, the blue of his irises simmered with something…something hot and wicked and - 

You abruptly pulled your hand out of his grasp, and gave him a far too fake gleeful smile. “Good grip,” you jipped, voice coming out far too strained and shrill to be casual. Barnes looked at you with those captivating eyes for a moment longer before looking down at his vibranium hand, flexing the fingers a little. 

“It’s perfect,” he said. 

It took you a moment to register the words, and then elation swept through you. You smiled and clapped your hands together and spun to go note his comment down.  “How wonderful, I’m so glad,” you said, not able to keep the excitement out of your voice.  A happy subject meant you’d fulfilled your task! The project could move onto its final stages of rendering and documentation. Happy progress!  You scribbled down some fast notes on the screws and fastenings, how he’d tested grip by shaking your hands and his own feedback, putting his exact words down as a quote. 

“The team will be so happy to learn you’re satisfied, they talked so much about the latest updates on the interface between sensory input and mechanical automobility - they wouldn’t shut up about it for days, I swear to Bast,” you said, the words falling out of your mouth in your excitement, and then you turned back towards him and again fell silent. 

He was staring at you, and for the first time, you could actually detect emotions on his face. He looked…dumbfounded, or something akin to that, watching you with avid eyes, mouth slightly open and brows for once out of their trademark downturned frown. You were stunned yourself for a moment seeing him so out of character, and then you promptly lowered your gaze. 

Oh great, first you’re fumbling and awkward and then you start rambling like a lunatic. What is wrong with you?, you asked yourself silently.  You cleared your throat and motioned for him to sit back on the bench. He obliged, and you found yourself slightly disappointed to see him schooling away his emotion behind the stoic mask. 

“So, I’ll have to take the arm off so it can be finalized, and then you’ll just have to have it fastened a final time, and then you’ll have your arm, Mr. Barnes,” you said as you got to work unscrewing and removing the prosthetic limb. He nodded, eyes glued to you like before. He didn’t seem happy, or if he was, he didn’t show it. You hoped he’d feel elated like you did, but considered how the whole metal arm thing might still be a little complicated for him. You wondered if he was going to a therapist, or a support group or anything. You didn’t dare ask, though. “I imagine the finalizing process won’t take much more than two weeks. I’ll send you a suggestion for the next appointment once it’s clear, and you can confirm using your compad like before. Sound good?” you asked, thankful you could keep a clear head through this part at least. 

“Yes,” he said, still watching your eyes as you removed the arm and returned it to the table. You nodded to him, and managed to stay upright until the door hissed shut behind him as he left. Then you curled into a mortified little ball and hid your flaming face in your hands. 

§

Fucking. Great. 

Your heart had been hammering harder for every mile that passed as your cruiser made its way into the heart of the Wakandan landscape. The prosthetic arm had been finalized within a couple of days and your superiors thought the best course of action was sending you out to fasten it instead of demanding Barnes make his way into the capitol on such short notice. Which meant you were on your way to his home, to be completely alone with him…in his home.   

Part of you was insatiably curious to see how he lived, to peer into such a private, revealing place. Everyone knew seeing how a person lived was like seeing a reflection of their soul. Your apartment for instance, was a hot fucking mess, but one you could navigate perfectly. You hadn’t allowed yourself to picture Barnes’s home, though, or make any assumptions. How he lived was of no scientific interest, and therefore no interest to you! Or so you told yourself, at least…

It’s fine. Everything is fine, you chanted in your head as the cruiser arrived at its destination, the small hut Barnes had been gifted as his indefinite residence. It was a beautiful place to keep a residence, right by the river, the surrounding trees providing plenty of shade from the hot sun and a gorgeous view over the plains. It only made you more curious about Barnes, and subsequently, more furious with yourself. 

Everything is fine. 

As you shut the motor down and climbed out of the vehicle, his large, burly figure emerged from the hut, and a spike of energy went off inside you as you locked eyes with Barnes. He was as stoic as ever, but he walked up to meet you right away and surprised you when he reached to grab the case with the arm in it to carry it for you. 

“Hi,” you said, and quickly added, “um, thanks for being available at such a short notice.” 

You’d felt kinda foolish for giving such a roomy deadline prognosis at his last fitting only for it to take a few days, and were sweating with the hope it hadn’t inconvenienced him in any way. There was a whole delicate, psychological process involved in getting a new limb - a process one shouldn’t meddle too much in - especially when there was significant trauma involved in losing the original limb. Fuck, you were so nervous.

He looked a bit puzzled for a moment, brows drawn down in consideration. 

“No. Thank you for coming all this way,” he said a bit haltingly, and to your astonishment, he sounded almost as unsure of himself as you felt. Uncomfortable warmth spread in your chest. That must have been the longest sentence he’d ever spoken to you. His voice was low and gruff, a smooth rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground, across to you and straight into your chest. Fuuck, how were you supposed to survive that voice, and with him being uncharacteristically timid and polite?

Suddenly you felt like laughing. Here you were, both of you so awkward and unsure, and what for? This was a joyous occasion, for Bast's sake, and you were being silly! Forcing your nerves down, you leveled him with a smile. 

“Not at all. Let’s get that arm on, shall we?” you said, letting your actual excitement for the happening fill you instead. You were after all, genuinely excited to finally give Barnes his new prosthetic limb, and see him back to full mobility. 

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes fluttering around your face, and then abruptly stepped aside and gestured for you to proceed him into the hut. You obliged, holding your spirits high as you dared venture past the curtain and inside the hut. 

Barnes’s home was sparsely furnished but…surprisingly cozy. Brightly coloured pillows, blankets and tapestries lay everywhere, a window to the right letting in the bright, midday sun, casting a glowing light on everything. You recognised the patterns and color scheme from your own parents and grandparents houses, it was a traditional home in all senses of the words. You’d think Barnes would stick out like a sore thumb here, but really, he seemed to fit in well. There was a low table to the left with stacks of books and a mug on it, surrounded by more pillows and blankets. Your eyes caught on and swiftly ignored the cot at the back of the hut, made perfectly with a mountain of pillows. 

That’s where he sleeps. That’s where he rests. That’s where he’s most vulnerable. That’s where you would lay if he - NO!

Barnes squeezed around you where you stood just inside the entrance studying the space, and you quite viscerally realized how small the hut was for the two of you, how small it was for him alone really. This was gonna be way more tight and intimate than the lab, you thought with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Barnes put the case down by the low table and proceeded to start clearing the table of books and pens and the mug. He looked down into the mug and then over at you. 

“Coffee?” he asked, and taken aback by the unexpected question, you shook your head quickly before immediately regretting it. It would’ve been more polite to accept, and you did feel a bit strung out by your morning so far. 

Barnes nodded in response, and then seemed at a loss, turning the mug in his hand. Was he…fidgeting? 

“Where do you -?” he started, and you cut him off. 

“Right there is fine. We can sit on the floor, no problem,” you said reassuringly, giving him another smile, suddenly filled with sweetness for this big hulk of a man and his nervous fidgeting. He nodded and proceeded to plump down where you assumed he normally sat. You quelled a smile at how normalcy seemed to bleed through even this exceedingly awkward situation, and was kind of enamored by the way Barnes seemed to relax once he was seated in his usual spot. It gave you the impression that this space was a comfort to him, which you were glad to see. 

You neared and sat down on your knees at his side, opening the case and swiftly taking out everything you needed as he took off his shirt to reveal the same t-shirt he used to wear underneath, sleeveless on the left side. Without further ado, you started the process of permanently fastening the arm. You slipped into a calm concentration as you worked, the familiarity and comfort of your skills calming you, a comfortable silence descending upon you both, only interrupted by the sounds of your electric screwdriver. The whole thing took no longer than ten minutes, and then you sat back and looked upon Barnes in silence as he took in his new arm, knowing it was finally, and wholly, his. 

He stared down at it for a long while, and then the hut was filled with sounds of gentle, almost silent whirring as he started flexing mechanical muscles, then fingers, then the whole arm, lifting it to examine and compare to his other arm, running them both through his loose hair and picking up different items on his table and tossing them lightly from hand to hand. He seemed completely engrossed, and for long minutes it seemed almost like he’d forgotten you were even there as he explored his new arm. 

It was awe-inspiring to see, to be allowed to observe such a vulnerable moment, to witness him seemingly letting himself really connect to this new possibility of having two arms and two hands again, in a way he hadn’t even seemed to entertain while in the fittings. It touched something deep inside you, witnessing with honor what you hoped might be a moment of healing, and tears pricked the back of your eyes. It felt so incredibly moving to be part of a team that could give something like this to a person who’d been through so much hardship, and the feeling filled you, making you feel all warm. This was why you’d gotten into this field, this was why you wanted to be a scientist. To be able to help people recover precious things lost. 

Your heart swelled with emotion, and then Barnes looked at you, his own astonished joy blasted clear across his face, completely unencumbered, letting you see it without any pretense or facades. Your breath caught in your throat at the sheer volume of his joy, and how intimate him sharing it so openly with you was. You were stunned. 

And then you kissed him. 

One moment you were looking at his broad smile full of slightly crooked, white teeth, and then you’d leaned across your own knees and half across his and unceremoniously pressed your lips to his. It was closed-mouthed and a bit off-center, your bottom lip caught awkwardly on his top one. But sparks crackled through your body all the same as you felt how soft his lips were, how warm his skin was, the slightly surprised gust of warm, gentle air from his nostrils. 

And then your senses kicked in, mortification hot on their heels, and you broke the kiss abruptly, all but ready to flee the hut. You didn’t get the chance to move away though, before cool metal fingers slid up the sensitive skin of your throat and back to cup your neck, gently, but firmly pulling you right back into the kiss.

A fire caught in your loins, sizzling hot sparks shooting up your body and you drew in a shaky breath through your nose only for the air to be caught in your throat, making a small, needy, desperately embarrassing sound. The metal fingers on your neck tightened at the sound. 

You felt completely blown off your center. Nothing had felt this good before, nothing in your whole, perfect life full of joys and pleasures and fulfillment had felt so sensationally good as James Buchanan Barnes's lips on yours while his brand new prosthetic hand cradled your neck.

The surge of desire that welled from that feeling propelled you to buck forward and crawl into his laps, straddling him with even more clumsy frenzy as you kissed him again. He answered in kind, his flesh hand landing tentatively on your hip before moving up your back to pull you tighter against him once he seemingly caught on to the fact that you were there in his lap of your own fruition. 

You kissed again and again, hungry, exploring, closed-mouthed but growing more desperate, more daring. You opened your mouth to catch your breath and was met by the shy swipe of his tongue just inside your mouth, and your whole body shuddered at the sensation before you wrapped your arms around his neck and swiped your own tongue to meet his. 

A growl came out of nowhere and exploded in Barnes’s chest as you tongue-kissed him with everything you had, and then the world was spinning, and your back hit the brightly earth-coloured rug. Barnes followed you closely, and laid down on top of you, pinning you down with his huge, burly body, claiming your mouth in an honest-to-Bast breath-taking kiss. 

It was explosively good, this gorgeous, muscled beast of a man pinning you to the ground, broad shoulders shielding you from everything above, leaning on his elbows while his hands cradled your face, holding you perfectly still as his mouth descended upon yours again and again, growing hungrier with every kiss. Your mind whirled with images of his metal arm wrapping around your throat, pinning you down, tearing your clothes to shreds and holding you put exactly where he wanted while the soldier ravished you, and it became even harder to pull air into your flaming lungs. You heard yourself whimpering into the kisses, your own desperation growing like a galloping crescendo inside you. You were suddenly, unexpectedly, and totally irrationally ready for him to tear your clothes off and take you right there on the floor of his hut, heat flaming in your lower stomach, a molten ache starting to let itself be known between your legs, everything else in the world be damned and forgotten if you could just feel him ins - 

A small beeping sound cut through the fog of desire overtaking you, and it took you a moment for your melting brain to recognise it as your pager. You wrenched out of the kiss and put your hands on Barnes’s broad, warm chest, feeling his strong heartbeat jackhammer beneath the layers of clothes and flesh. His lips followed you for a split second, his eyes opening to slits in order to find you again. Then, as he realized you’d intentionally ended the kiss, he immediately let you push him half-way off you to fish the pager out of your pocket. It was your boss, they needed you back by lunch. 

Fuck

Fuck, what the fuck were you doing? It dawned on you the incredibly inappropriate situation you were in, had put yourself and Barnes in. This was reckless and rash and completely not who you were or had ever been. With anyone! No, no, no, this was bad, you were so fucking stupid. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes as you pushed him gently all the way off you to sit back on his haunches and swiftly extracted yourself from under him and got to your feet. 

You were mortified, absolutely mortified, shame and embarrassment and guilt washing over you in tidal waves, slamming into your chest. 

“I’m so sorry, that was so…um…I have to go, but er, enjoy your hand - ARM and hand,” you sputtered out as you began fleeing the hut all together. Then you remembered what you were supposed to say upon leaving, and turned while halfway out the door, “If you have any trouble or complications, don’t hesitate to contact the institute. On behalf of the technical institute and design group, we hope you will be pleased with the product. Um, bye!”

Barnes remained in the same seated position on the floor while you made your stumbling exit, and you missed the look of longing in his eyes as you left. 

§

A week passed while you marinated in your own embarrassment and guilt, trying and failing to get the whole incident in the hut out of your mind. Partly because it was the most unprofessional and out-of-control thing you’d ever done, and partly because you just couldn’t get the memory of Barnes’s lips out of your head. The warmth emanating from him like a furnace, the way his hands gripped you gently, but possessively, the thrill that had gone through you when he flipped you and pinned you to the floor like you were nothing more than a rag doll. Had he been as turned on as you? Had he enjoyed himself? Surely he’d enjoyed it a little bit with the way he’d reciprocated, but had he really wanted it?

You shook yourself out of your daydream for probably the dozenth time that day, not a single word written on the personal essay you were to turn in with your other documentation in a couple of days. Fuuuck, this was so bad, you had to be able to focus and put this from your mind! If you were lucky and if everything went as it should with the prosthetic, Barnes would have no reason to contact the institute and seek you out ever again, and you would never have to see him again after your blunder. 

The project would be over soon, you would move on to new ones and the one tether you had to Barnes would be severed. It was best for everyone if you just forgot the whole thing. 

Except, in your panicked flight from his home, you’d completely forgotten the case that had contained the prosthetic arm, along with some screws and your most beloved screwdriver. You hadn’t even noticed it was left behind until you were halfway back to the lab, and had been completely at a loss on what to do. You couldn’t go back after the way you’d left, but you couldn’t just leave it either. The equipment wasn’t of that much value and the lab had plenty more, so that wasn’t the greatest issue. But you loved that screwdriver, and felt it as an obligation to retrieve it. Plus, it wasn’t fair to just leave it there, in Barnes’s home, what use did he have of it? Still, you couldn’t bear the thought of going back after the way you’d left….

Your head thumped down onto the workbench at the back of your lab. You were spiraling down the rabbit hole of warring thoughts for the upteenth time that day and was about to hurl something at the wall when the clearing of a throat came out of nowhere. 

Whipping your head up, you practically leapt from your chair when you saw Barnes standing  in the middle of your lab, clad in light pants and a loose-fitting half-sleeved shirt, completely unexpected, looking exceedingly unsure of himself (...and obscenely gorgeous)

Your immediate thought went to his arm, but as far as you could see, it was still intact and working perfectly from the way he clenched and unclenched the vibranium hand at his side. Then your eyes slipped to his other hand, and saw the case he held in it. 

“I, um, hello, I thought you might like this back,” he said, looking down and holding out the hand with the case. You immediately walked up to him and took it. 

“Thank you! So much, you didn’t have to come all this way just for that,” you rushed to say, feeling sheepish and grateful at the same time. 

“Oh no, I, uh…I…I have some errands in the… uh, the city and whatnot,” he said, and you almost smiled a little at the way he suddenly fumbled for words. Was this even the same guy that had pinned you to the floor and ravished your mouth a week ago? The same guy that had walked into the lab that first day, all menacing silence and calculated movement.

“Oh, okay, well, this was really nice of you, thank you again. Um, what did you say to the guards to get in here?” you asked, suddenly remembering the levels of clearing he had to go through to get here. Did he tell the truth? Would your superiors know you forgot the case? That you’d made a fool of yourself and made the whole institute look chaotic and unprofessional?

“I told them I had some more questions about the arm, and that I wanted to speak with you since you’re so knowledgeable and good at your job,” Barnes said, waving his metal hand in the air a little as if to show you it was indeed made of vibranium. 

He’d protected you? Kept your secret? A warm sense of giddyness spread through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling to broadly. 

“God, you didn’t have to tell them all that,” you said, feeling warmth bloom on your cheeks from his compliments. 

“I meant it, though,” he said seriously, and then he took a step towards you, “And I wanted to, needed to apologize…for what happened at my house…last week.”

Your heart surged in your chest and you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Apologize? What could he have to apologize for? You were the one who’d acted out of line. Did he regret what’d happened? What if you’d overstepped his boundaries and added more to his trauma?

“No, no, please, I’m the one who should apologize here. It was completely unprofessional to do that when I was working on a project with you, and so inappropriate to force myself upon you like that, all in this emotional moment and without knowing if you’d enjoy it or -”

“I enjoyed it,” he interrupted, voice clear and strong.

You looked up to find him another step closer. So big, and strong, and handsome, your insatiable desire whispered to you as he gazed down into your eyes, only inches between you. You wanted to kiss him again suddenly, your lips tingled with it. 

“You did?” you asked, only half paying attention as you lost yourself in his heavenly baby blue eyes, framed by thick lashes paled by the sun. Your eyes flicked down to his full lips, and when they went back to his eyes, they glinted with a spark of that same ferociousness that’d awakened in him on that floor in his hut. A glint that had your lower stomach going all molten. 

He nodded, breathing a little laugh that surprised you. Your heart started soaring in your chest despite your best efforts to keep from getting ahead of yourself. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing and licking his lips, “a lot. I, uh, I was really sorry to see you leave so abruptly too  - before I could speak with you,” he said. 

Arousal welled up in your body, and you felt a little dizzy all of a sudden. He’d enjoyed it…

“Me too,” you whispered, not trusting your voice not to crack. 

He took a final, tiny step closer, too close for any kind of professionalism or even decency, really, so close you could almost sense the atoms sparking to life in the tiny space between your bodies. Just like that, you were back in his hut, the moment swelling to level with the heavy, sizzling churn of when he'd flipped you to the carpet and caged you in underneath him. He had such a presence, his body thrumming with life and power and fuck, you wanted it on top of you. Again. 

“I’m relieved to hear that. And,” he said, slowly reaching his flesh hand to tentatively cup your neck, hot and possessive in one, tender gesture, his calloused thumb coming up to stroke over your jaw, the intimate touch sending fireworks through your nervous system, ”though I don’t want to disrespect your work ethic, I’d like to point out that we’re not working on the same project anymore, so if you’d like to -”

The case hit the floor with a loud bang the moment you wrapped your arms around Barnes’s neck and threw yourself into his arms, your lips meeting in a sizzling kiss. Barnes caught you around the waist and hauled you up into his arms, your feet dangling off the ground as he crushed you to his chest, returning the kiss tenfold. 

His tongue was immediately in your mouth this time, licking hot and wet and dominatingly over your own, and you whimpered at the sheer intensity, the way it blazed to a fire in your loins.

You clung to him like your life depended on it, and moaned into his mouth as you felt him turn and lower you to the bench in the lab, not letting much space get in between you before he draped himself over you and continued putting his mouth to yours. Your hands found their agency and started moving, mapping out his shoulders, feeling the muscle ripple under your fingertips as you caressed down his chest and around his sides to stroke his long, chiseled back.

His loose cotton shirt rode up as he moved to step further in between your opening legs, pressing himself closer, and your hands were unable to resist the pull as your fingers met the hot flesh of his lower back, stroking over silky smooth skin up again under his shirt. 

His whole body shuddered against you, a small gasp emanating from him as he broke the kiss, and your excitement went through the roof. You opened your eyes and stared at his expression going lax, eyes closing and mouth hanging slightly open as you continued your caress up his back. You hooked your hands over his shoulder and pulled him down to you again, nibbling on his lip before kissing his open mouth, your fingertips dancing in swirling patterns down his back. 

His body shuddered again. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered a little breathlessly against your mouth, mostly to himself it seemed, and your discovery made you almost feverish with desire. 

He was sensitive, and probably more than a little touch-starved. 

You brought your hands forward and found the top button on his shirt, staring to undo it as you breathed into each other's mouths. You’d gotten to the third one when Barnes gave a (admittedly adorable) little huff of impatience and pulled free to wrench his shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted torso right out of your wettest dream. You had to take a moment just to stare at him, hard abs, flat stomach, pecs that stretched into rounded, muscled, obscenely broad shoulders. Tight, sculpted muscles that shone in the dimmed, bluish fluorescents of the ceiling lights, one muscled arm with prominent veins running down to a calloused hand, one arm reflecting the lights in shiny, sculpted, black vibranium.

His chest rose and fell with his labored breath, his abs flexing, the muscles of his torso and arms tensing and shifting as he stood before you and it was just so different from the statuesque, almost frugal way he’d moved before, when he only exerted energy at the utmost importance. This man was alive in a completely different way. And he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you. 

You’d barely raked your eyes up to his and caught the feral glint in his eyes before he was on you again, ripping your lab coat open and sliding his hands up and down your sides. His touch sent shivers of warmth through you and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. That only seemed to spur him on. When his hands slid under the cotton sweater you wore, exploring the folds and dips of your abdomen, you shuddered. He was touching you like he hadn’t touched anyone before, all curious and explorative with just the hint of inexperienced clumsiness, fingers curious for such a mundane thing as the fold of skin over your ribcage as you lay there crouched beneath him. 

Bast, you needed more, his touch sending you into a frenzy. You wanted him, all of him. 

You started awkwardly extracting your arms from your lab coat, and when Barnes caught on, he was more than willing to help you shed it before his fingers went to the hem of your sweater. He paused then, and looked into your eyes for permission. You nodded, a bit eagerly perhaps, but whatever. 

He slowly slid the fabric of your sweater up your torso, and in a move more gentle than you’d anticipated from the way he removed his own clothes, he bent down and tentatively kissed your stomach - right on your tummy, soft kisses following the fabric up. It stole your breath away as you watched the movement avidly. 

He pushed the fabric all the way up over your bra, and reached with a curious hand to tug the cup down, revealing a hardened nipple. You were nearly shaking with want at this point, and shuddered embarrassingly hard when he took the nipple in his mouth and swiped his hot, wet tongue on it, nibbling gently and curiously with his teeth until you shuddered again.

You let your hands wander and found his hair, finally, finally getting to feel the soft, straight locks of hair sift through them, basking in the opportunity after having snuck peaks at it for months. It was even silkier than you’d imagined, despite its shaggy appearance. You combed your hands through his hair as he moved to suck on your other nipple, pulling the cup of your bra down to free your breast to the open air of the room. 

Scraping your nails over his scalp, you felt the way his form trembled atop you, and he almost purred, a deep, rumbling groan vibrating through you and into the very bench beneath you. You scraped over his scalp again and bit your lip as it elicited another rumble.

He let your nipple go, puffy and a shade darker than usual from his bullying, and you watched the string of saliva connect it to his lips with a blush burgeoning on your face. Oh, this might get filthy, you thought to yourself, almost embarrassed by how much you liked it when he closed the distance between you and licked into your mouth again, seemingly not caring about his spit getting everywhere, the kiss messy and wet. 

There was a tell-tale hard bulge pressing against the heated spot between your legs, and you rolled your hips down on it. Barnes gasped out of the kiss, looking almost shocked as he quickly looked down between your bodies to where he was pressed against you, and you wondered if he might’ve forgotten where all of these horny urges came from. You rolled your hips into him again, experimentally, and watched as realization hit him, as his eyelids drooped and a tiny groan escaped him. Then he rolled his hips to meet yours and it was your time to groan. 

“Just like that,” you whispered encouragingly, and met his gaze as he returned his eyes to yours, watching you intently as he rolled his hips again and again, grinding himself between your legs. 

He felt…big, to say the least, and he was grinding against your clothed clit in a way that you knew had you gushing into your panties. You could already feel the fabric getting soggy, sliding along your flesh as Barnes widened his step and grinded against you with more grounded precision. 

Fuck, it felt so good it was getting hard to think, and when his - oh god - vibranium hand slid down your side to grab your hip, effortlessly pinning you down into the bench so he could grind even harder against your core, the breath in your lungs fucking punched out of you. You knew just how much strength was packed into that metal arm. Knew there was a fine line between using too much strength and keeping you pinned firmly enough so you couldn’t move your hips an inch. Barnes traversed that line perfectly. 

Your pussy was on fire, the grinds of Bucky’s big, hard bulge against your clit too much while - simultaneously - the layers of clothes between you made it somehow not enough. It had been so long since you’d just frotted, clothed, like this, and you now wondered how you could’ve forgotten how fucking good it felt - or if it’d ever felt this good at all before. You seriously doubted it, for you couldn’t really believe it, but the rhythm and weight of Bucky's hips while his mouth lowered to mouth at your neck was somehow actually propelling you towards the edge. 

You tried to move your hips to grind back, to make him go faster, harder, but found yourself utterly - and deliciously - fully at his mercy as he nuzzled the crook of your neck and laved his tongue on your skin, tasting it in that fascinating curiosity of his. 

Fuck, it was right there, you could feel it, he was gonna make you come, you just needed a little more. 

Through the haze of your impending, building release, you could hear yourself start to whimper. Needy and a little embarrassing, the sounds escaping you despite you biting your lip and clutching at Barnes’s shoulders, barely holding on as he hurled you towards that precipice.

His face suddenly appeared from the crook of your neck, and it took you a second to realize he had a look of confused concern on his face as he looked down on you. 

To your utter distress, his hips slowed their steady, hard thrust against yours, and he gave you a once over you had a hard time understanding. Then it hit you that he must be concerned he’d done something wrong; that he’d mistaken your sounds of need for ones of pain or that you didn’t want it or something utterly ridiculous like that. Sweet, respectful, slightly confused and apparently wildly inexperienced man, you thought with an almost woeful endearment. You could feel yourself slipping further under the power of his spell as his eyes returned to your face, flitting about to try and decipher your expression.

That elusive orgasm you were dancing up to started to slip away as his hips grinded to a halt, and you reached out to cradle his face in near panic. 

“No, please, please, please don’t stop. It’s so good, please,” you practically whined, trying to move your own hips to get more of that sweet, intoxicating friction. You barely managed a little squiggle under the pinning strength of his hand on your hip and his body on top of yours.

A great gust of breath whooshed out of him, and he started up his rhythm again almost immediately, meeting your tiny writhing with thrusts of his own like he just couldn’t help it, and you threw your head back, biting your lip and nodding frantically as the pleasure built inside you again, picking up just behind where you’d left off. 

His hand, the one of flesh, slid up your torso to caress the exposed column of your neck, almost curiously, exploring, holding it in an almost tender grip as you moaned in delirium. His thrust grew harder, your moans louder and his hand gripped harder like he enjoyed the feeling of your moans being forced from you by his moving hips. 

You could tell the moment he started climbing his own precipice, how his movement grew more focused, more intent, leaving all exploration behind to chase a goal with an almost singular, feral possession. His breaths turned to gasps, which turned to grunts and then low growls. His movement turned frantic, almost feral in their one mindedness. He was losing himself to the pleasure and you whined, mind turning to slush under the onslaught of his ferocity. You were going dumb on his cock and he hadn’t even taken it out of his pants. Didn’t matter, you were done for. 

The wild, animalistic abandon with which he chased his own high was so blastingly hot it sent you tumbling over the edge almost entirely on its own. You gasped, your body tensing and then exploding under his as his grinding thrusts sent wave upon wave of searing, orgasmic bliss crashing into you, riding you so hard you nearly passed out. 

Your sight went blurry, blood roaring in your ears, but you heard the moment his breath caught in his throat, such a vulnerable sound, and then the bulge pressed to the sticky, clothed cunt between your legs started throbbing in an uneven, staccato rhythm, which you could feel against you even through the layers of clothing separating you. His grip turned to bruising steel and you gasped anew as the intensity of the pain mixed with your abating orgasm, making a shocking, intoxicating cocktail of sensation blast through you. 

He threw his head back, the thick column of his neck stretching taut, and growled like he was in pain, and it sent vibration straight through you down to the table beneath you. Fuck, he was like nothing you’d ever experienced - pure, raw power, lust, shocking honesty and a sense of almost ardent fascination - mixed together in this anomaly and mystery of a man.

It felt like several minutes passed as you tried to catch your breath and gather your mind from where it’d melted out of your ears to puddle on the bench around you. Bucky’s face had made its way into the crook of your neck, where he seemed just as slow and sluggish to come back down to earth. He was like a furnace on top of you, even hotter from his exertion, forehead damp and hot where it pressed to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

His weight on you was a comforting one though, making you feel safe and protected, covered and nestled into a cocoon of muscles and warmth and soft, puffing breaths. Taking a cheeky chance, you carded a hand through his hair, the brown strands soft, glinting in the fluorescents above as they shifted through your fingers. Bucky’s whole form shivered as you raked your fingernails along his scalp, and the bulge nestled tight between your thighs and his body throbbed once as he grunted softly, neck twisting to push his head into your hand, almost like a cat rubbing against your palm to get more scritches. 

A chuckle left your mouth as you kept carding your hand through Bucky’s hair. He looked up at you then, and the moment caught up with you. A blush had the audacity of spreading on your cheeks even after everything you’d just done. He looked into your eyes, silent but for your deep, still slightly labored breaths. You couldn’t help smiling. 

He looked a little dazzled for a moment, then a slow, beautiful smile spread on his own lips to answer yours.

"Um, it's been a long time, and I d-don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure this is not how you court a lady properly," he said a bit self-deprecatingly. You chuckled again, and he joined, his form vibrating with myrth. He made no move to get off you though. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I don't know, this doesn't feel too bad," you said, and you could practically feel the relief in Bucky as he let you keep him laying draped across you.

"Still. I'd like to take you out sometime. It was the real reason I came here, after all," he said.

You felt your smile turn wry.

"I thought you said you had errands...and whatnots," you said.

His gaze wavered for only a moment as he realized he'd revealed his own bluff. Then his smile grew sheepish, and so warm it sizzled.

[castiwls]

willow - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans, that's my man'

Requested; anon

Notes;tysm for the request <3 the yellow lights mentioned are like the one in the video (anon requested!)

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Sam Winchester was a relatively new addition to your life. It had barely been a month since he and his brother had waltzed right into your life and seemingly derailed it from the almost perfect track it had been on.

In that time you’d found yourself falling fast and hard for the younger of the two. Falling in love was something which seemingly came easy to you, free falling into a relationship was something which gave you a thrill like no other yet this was different. Falling this time didn't mean simply moving your toothbrush into a new bathroom a few streets down, no falling this time was life-altering almost.

But you were more than willing. The idea excited you almost. Getting to experience a whole new world while being around someone who made butterflies swarm in your stomach was something which you only saw in novels you’d read as a teen. 

You were under no illusion that hunting was an easy life, both Sam and Dean had been very straight with what you were walking into, especially with them but you were willing. And being here now made the hell that was slowly becoming your reality seem to melt away and become nothing but an afterthought.

The small streets of the town were bustling with people as the two of you slowly weaved your way through. You noticed every so often the way Sam would glance back making sure you were still behind him before quickly turning back whenever you met his gaze. The simple act sent butterflies swarming in your stomach and made you even more curious as to why he had dragged you from your bed at midnight.

Sam would never admit it out loud but you weren’t the only one who’d seemingly fallen hard and fast. The thought of a relationship had never even crossed his mind until you’d appeared in his life and suddenly it was all he could think of. 

His life was less than ordinary and part of him had begun to believe that the obstacles that constantly between him and love were simply a sign from above that maybe he wasn’t meant to find a connection like that. But then he’d met you.

“Just up here.” Sam pointed to a small hill not far from where you were both currently standing. You nodded sending him a small smile. As you both continued to walk the crowd of people only seemed to grow larger and larger causing you to reach for his hand on instinct.

He didn’t say anything as he reassuringly squeezed your hand navigating you both through the crowd until they slowly began to disperse the closer and closer you got to the clearing. “Why did you want to come here again?” You asked taking a seat on the grass in front of a large tree. 

Sam quickly sat beside you leaning back against the trunk a smile growing on his face as he watched the sky. “I read about a festive they do here around this time of year.” A small glint of excitement appeared in his eyes as he turned his attention to you. “Just watch.” He nodded forward.

“Alright.” You sat forward curious as to what he could have possibly read about. You’d only been in this town for a day and so far you’d seen nothing of a festival, yet the crowds you’d seen said differently.

A comfortable silence fell over you both after a moment. After a moment something in the distance began to glitter against the dark sky. The small yellow light stood alone for a moment, slowly rising into the sky before another light joined it. 

A small gasp left your lips as what seemed like hundreds of other yellow lights began to dot the skies over the town. “It’s beautiful.” You turned to him in awe before quickly turning back to watch as the lights drifted across the sky.

Sam smiled his heart fluttering slightly at the look of pure awe etched on your face as you continued to watch the small lights pass by. After a few more moments he felt you relax onto the trunk beside him, your gaze still locked on the sky which was now full of small yellow lights.

Slowly he moved his arm around you, he felt his breath almost stop in his chest as your head dropped to his shoulder with a small contented sigh. At the movement, he felt himself relax as he turned his attention from the sky to you.

The lights were dazzling but he was much more infatuated with the sight in his arms.

[shentheauthor]

Hello! I’ve seen the harbingers reacting to the reader liking them... But what if we turn the tables around and it’s them realizing the have a huge crush on the reader!!! Will they confess? (I hope they do, well... mainly I hope Pulcinella does but anyways) Will they stay quiet??

Ooo this should be fun

Harbingers realizing they have a crush on the reader

Also I finally figured out how to add the read more thing!!!!

Pierro

Well first of all, it’s been a LONG time since he’s felt this way

He almost doesn’t recognize the feeling

When he realizes what’s up, he would immediately be flustered and confused

Why? How? HOW DID YOU DO THIS???

Unfortunately he’s probably too dedicated to his cause to think of anything else

He wouldn’t want to put you through that

So he’ll keep quiet

He won’t tell you, and just sit and pine sadly

I’m sorry, he caught feelings at the worst possible time in his life

Capitano

He is also confused

He definitely doesn’t feel this way often

He is also very dedicated to his cause, but he at least has more room for stuff like love, I think

He won’t be too shy about it, but he seems like a relatively quiet guy in the first place

He will confess

Probably in private. No grand gestures, just a simple “I have feelings for you”

He’ll also say that you have every right to turn him down

Offers to remain friends as well

Literally one of the most normal people in this whole cursed group

We’re starting off calm before we get into The Horrors

Dottore

The Horrors™️

He treats it like a science experiment

I’m being srs

Hypothesis: you like him back

Research? Hanging around you more often

Hovers over you like a vulture

You turn the corner and there he is like :)

If one of him likes you, all of him does

The segments will be SO annoying, I’m so sorry

He won’t confess outright, but honestly his behavior is more than enough to tell you what’s going on

He is highkey scary, but we love him for it

Columbina

She isn’t very flustered when she realizes tbh

Of course she likes you! How could she not?

She’ll ask you to her private chambers and just.. hang out with you

Her way of flirting is singing to you and doing your hair

If you don’t have hair? Scalp massages

Very touchy feely and kind of obvious with her affection

There is an underlying darkness to everything she does, but Yk if you like her back, you’re probably into that

She’ll confess in private, during the night

It’s shockingly romantic, with candles and flowers waiting for you

She does fully expect you to say yes, but she honestly wouldn’t ask if she didn’t already know you would

She’s like 5 steps ahead of you

Arlecchino

Mmmmmmmaaaaannnn

We already know she’s unhinged, Yk?

When she’s in love, her first reaction is “ew”

She doesn’t have time for that shit

But Yk, she’s intrigued by you, so she abandons that thought pretty quickly

She won’t flirt or confess, keeping you at arm’s length

But she does have a clear favorite

She’s nicer to you. She gives you less difficult tasks

She doesn’t want your pretty face getting hurt

You’ll only find out she has a fat crush on you if you do get hurt

She is.. protective…

Good luck getting blood out of your clothes when she’s done with your attackers

At least she would ask if you’re ok? Yeaahhh

Pulcinella

This one’s for you bestie (me when I go in rank order and he’s not at the top)

He’ll get flustered when he realizes

He’s kinda old, so it’s been a while, but hey it’s never too late for love!

He’ll give you the old fashioned courtship rizz

Flowers, gifts, walks under the stars

He will def accept a rejection, but come on, look at him

You can’t reject him

He’s a quiet romantic, and he doesn’t have a stick up his ass

So he’s better at this than the others

You cannot tell me he doesn’t have a soft side, you CANNOT.

Scaramouche

MAN

This man is so emotionally repressed, you know he would HATE having a crush

He sees it as a waste of time

A disgustingly human emotion

He’ll push you away, I’m sorry

He doesn’t have time for this, he doesn’t want to deal with it

He would fire you if he could, but for the sake of this post, he can’t for whatever reason

Maybe you aren’t a fatuus yk?

But yeah he’d only confess if you make it clear that you’re hurt by him avoiding you

And if you’re persistent (HELLA persistent)

He’ll eventually blurt out “it’s because I LIKE you, you idiot”

Yes, he is that trope

Hopefully he gets over himself sooner rather than later lmao

Sandrone

Run for your life

I’m being srs, she is uh…

She will confess, but in a creepy way

“I want you to become one of my dolls” (affectionate)

Try your damn hardest to convince her you’re more interesting as a living human

I love her, but hooooweeee

Scary ass woman

This one is shorter bc it’s… pretty clear what she’s like in canon 🤡

Signora

She hasn’t been in love since Rostam

Genuinely

She’s confused at first, then honestly a little sad and angry

Why now? Why centuries after her heart was broken?

But yk, it is what it is

She will most likely never confess

Just… keeps you at a distance, much like Pierro

She’ll try her hardest to get over it too, but you know she isn’t exactly good at getting over things like this

I mean that with love in my heart

If she ever does confess, it will likely be if she thinks she’ll never see you again

This woman is so tragic… I love her

Pantalone

THIS MAN.

He will become your sugar daddy

Like, literally, he will shower you with gifts

He could not be more obvious about it

Normally he guards his heart, but honestly if you’re in private and he’s sure nobody is listening, he will be so open

Of course those moments are rare

But he’ll still give you gifts in public, just… less obvious

Giving you money to buy food bc “you can’t work on an empty stomach”

Gives you clothes for missions/whatever and says you can keep it bc he doesn’t want it

He’s used to people using him, but it’s clear you don’t want to, so he feels safe in giving stuff to you

Confesses in private

It has to be SO private, no guards or anything, bc he doesn’t trust anyone not to tell

At least he’ll be a little romantic. Gives you your favorite foods and flowers, plus new clothes or hell, paying your rent

His love language is gift giving, change my mind

Tartaglia

Oh he is so annoying about it

Literally aggressive flirting

Literally

He will try to spar with you, to see if you’re strong enough to be his equal

If you’re not, that’s fine, but if you are, oh man he gets ten times worse

He’ll also be a theater kid about it

Bouquets, opening doors for you, bowing and throwing you a “rakish grin” (his words)

He’s kind of a dork

A murderous dork, but Yk

He’ll either confess during combat, or he’ll take you out on the town and does it in public

Well, if he isn’t sure you’ll say yes, he’ll do it in private

Also if you don’t like crowds

But if you don’t mind public spaces, he will be so dramatic about it

“Will you conquer the world with me?”

It’s very sweet, even if he means it completely literally

Just. A nerd (affectionate)

[mysillyside]

Analysis of Ice King's Mental Health and consistent Self-Sabotage

(a needlessly long analysis of an episode I really didn't like as a kid but grew to respect a lot upon rewatch as an adult)

I wanted to rewatch some Ice King episodes I haven't seen in awhile, and the season 6 episode "Friends Forever" really reminded me how Ice King is such a good portrayal of a mentally ill person who unconsciously self-sabotages himself and his relationships.

Summary: The premise of the episode is Ice King inviting Life Giving Magus over for a hangout, when in actuality he is planning to trick him into bringing his furniture to life so they can be his friends.

The setup is obviously comedic: "Haha silly Ice King, you don't need to bring furniture to life so they'd be your friends, when Life Giving Magus is right there offering you friendship!"

Coincidentally, that's the tragedy of the episode and Ice King's character in general.

He already painted a convoluted picture in his head of what he thinks he needs in order to be happy, so when other possible (even easier) routes of achieving said happiness present themselves to him, he shuts them down completely. It has to be his way or no way!

Content warning: While I don't go into anything too intense, this is an analysis of self-sabotaging behavior and how it pertains to people struggling with mental health issues, and I even briefly go into my own experiences surrounding this topic. Keep that in mind if you decide to read!

I'll leave the rest of the analysis below, because it's a bit wordy. But I hope you enjoy!

Throughout the episode, we are continuously shown the same scenario. Ice King is presented with an alternate (usually more achievable) solution to a problem he's dealing with and proceeding to ignore it, as he already decided how he wants to solve it as other avenues appear too challenging. He wants simple, fast solutions, despite the fact mental health improvement is a slow journey.

Abracadaniel

Early in the episode, we find out that Ice King ended his friendship with Abracadaniel, because "he kept trying to analyze him" From previous episodes we know that this friendship made Ice King really happy, so it might be suprising of first glance to see it break off so suddenly.

But of course, it makes sense. The reason Ice King liked the friendship in the first place is because it was fun. It's nice to have friends who are able to distract you from your own saddness.

In the episode where he first befriends Abracadaniel in the season 5 episode "Play Date", Ice King explicitly states he likes spending time with Finn and Jake because it distracts him from his thoughts, hence why the duo introduces him to Abracadaniel.

And that's what the friendship probably was for awhile, the two of them having fun! But considering the fact Abracadaniel seems like a relatively normal guy (at least for a wizard), it makes sense that eventually he would pick up on the fact that something is very wrong with Ice King, and that he's dealing with some pretty intense mental health issues.

This leads him to start analyzing his behavir, which leads to Ice King getting irritatated and upset.

He wants to have fun when he's with Abracadaniel, not think about things that upset him. (Knowing Ice King, he probably thought Abracadaniel was criticizing or even attacking him.)

Life Giving Magus

This is a shorter section but still important to mention. The main irony of this episode is the fact that Life Giving Magus clearly wants befriend Ice King, but because that's not how Ice King invisioned his "get friends" plan, he ignores this way more practical/achievable solution in favor of a fantasy where everything works out just how he imagined it. Things will work out surely. The stars just gotta align. Fast and easy solutions only. What do you mean these things take time and effort?

The Furniture

So the furniture comes to life and Ice King is ecstatic. That is, until he realizes that the furniture doesn't act like how he imagined it. The once inanimate objects appear to be intellectuals that like discussing complicated smart people things and using big words Ice King doesn't understand.

After Ice King continually tries and fails to fit in, leading to him becoming frustrated and sad, the Lamp suggests an alternative solution.

Maybe Ice King can be the cool quiet guy who listens to the other people in the room and occassionally adds his input, instead of forcing himself to talk about things that are clearly beyond his scope and knowledge

Ice King of course, completely ignores this and gets upset.

He doesn't want to adapt to this situation or even compromise, this isn't what he wanted, this isn't how things were supposed to go!

So he'd rather end the whole thing.

And so the episode ends with him turning all the furniture inanimate again. Maybe its better things just stay the way they were.

Ignore the fact Life Giving Magus is once again offering him his friendship, despite everything Ice King put him through in that episode. But Ice King declines it, as he would still rather stick to what he's used to if he can't achieve his convoluted solutions to obtain happiness, than try new things. Who cares if it's practical, it's way too uncertain and challenging!

Conclusion

I think Ice King characterization is very reminiscent of a mentally ill person who clearly wants to be happy, but only in this very specific "let's not uncover the root of the issue" way.

He likes chasing manic highs of in-the-moment happiness, which leads to selfish, destructive behavior which eventually starts crashing down, culminating into long depressive episodes.

Ice King doesn't like being sad don't get me wrong, but he'd rather wallow in his own misery for weeks if it meant not having to utilize those brief occassional moments of stablity and happiness, to adress his issues and figure out how to get better in the longrun. He doesn't want to sacrifice them!

(If you want a clear real life parallel to this, have you ever had those moments where you're like: "Wow I've been feeling so much better lately, maybe I don't need to go to therapy this week!" and then you end up spiralling right back to square one when you inevitably get sad and depressed again, because you ignored your mental health in favour of not utilizing those happy stable moments to get better overall. I've been there. So yeah, Ice King is suprisingly relatable.)

---

And not only that, but even when he is trying to make an effort and find ways to become happier, he's doing it in such a surface level way.

This whole episode is a great example of that, but this goes even further back. Just think about his princess kidnapping tendencies. Kidnapping a princess is a quick and easy solution to stop his saddness and loneliness. He wants to be loved, so surely has can force it. We never really see Ice King actually achieve his goal of marrying a princess, but let's say hypothetically he did. Than what?

He wanted friends for a long while too, so when he got them he was happy... until even the slightest cracks started showing.

If he managed to marry a princess, sooner or later he'd realize it doesn't make him truly happy. In the episode where he comes closest to achieving his goal (Princess Monster Wife), it still ends with him alone and sad at the end, because you can't cheat your way to happiness.

---

For him to truly be happy, he'd need to start addressing the core of where his issues come from. But he doesn't want that! So when other people start digging deeper, wanting him to self-reflect, he gets angry.

"How dare you make me think about why I'm sad!" "I'm gonna achieve happiness in this specific impractical way or no way at all!"

As someone who deals with this type of mentality, yeah. It hits! The last time I watched this episode was actually when it first aired, and since I was still a preteen back then, so a lot of this stuff flew over my head!

But now I get it now and am able to appreciate this episode a lot more. To be honest, I used to hate it! I find later seasons of AT a bit humorless and awkward to watch, especially season 6 . While these opinions haven't really changed., I think I can finally appriciate the thematic and emotional meaning of this episode now. Preteen Kat might have been a bit of a hater.

Final conclusion: I don't know how an episode about Ice King's furniture coming to life ended up being such a good exploration of mental illness, but that's Adventure Time I guess!

[nakedbibi333]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

Realizing the importance of your internal reality - a comprehensive guide to the law of assumption...

Link to document version

✧˖° 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Receiving a gift does not mean that we are going to use it wisely, but we have the gift. Everyone has the gift; and the world simply reflects the use of that gift. (Control Your Inner Conversations Neville Goddard)

Welcome to my comprehensive guide on the law of assumption! 

This document is highly focused on understanding, changing, and properly utilizing your internal reality. It will also be mainly focused on self-concept. I understand that most people simply want to know how to manifest material things, however in order to truly give yourself the life you deserve, you must first change self. 

If you are still wary about changing your self-concept, think of it like this: You have lived your whole life believing your life is left to chance or some unknown fate. You have always believed that achieving your dream life was impossible, or at the very least extremely unlikely. However, now you’ve found the law of assumption. You know now that you can give yourself absolutely anything you want (and yes, I mean anything), but the reluctance to change your self-concept is all that is holding you back. 

You found out that the only thing you need to do in order to give yourself the life of your dreams is to change your assumptions about yourself, but you overcomplicate it, so you shut down. 

I promise that changing your internal reality, living from the 4D, and improving your self-concept are not as difficult as they seem. I hope that this document can help you guys realize that all the power is within you, not methods or any outside sources. It’s all you.

So, please enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you guys think!

✧˖° 𝐎𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠? ✧˖°

If you are reading this right now, chances are that you are not currently satisfied with the current state of your life. Maybe you’d like to become rich, famous, successful, etc. People usually discover manifestation because they want to change aspects of their lives. You may have begun by searching how to manifest an sp or how to manifest more money, and while these things are great, using the law of assumption as a means to get things is counterintuitive to the way the law functions.

First and foremost, the law of assumption is all about changing your internal reality in order to change your outer circumstances. However, most people hyperfixate on the physical aspect of this equation. You must be able to be completely satisfied with achieving your desires in imagination, without ever relying on the physical world. 

You fed and kept alive the things you did not wish to express within this world. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Now, because of the way the world works, you have made it a habit to take what you see and experience in the 3D as an unchangeable fact. You have unknowingly perpetuated and “kept alive” that which you deem undesirable. Because of this, your current conception of self is most likely not as fine-tuned as you would want it to be. Maybe you falter, maybe you often react negatively to things that happen around you, or maybe you’re insecure. These are all a result of your current state of consciousness or your self-concept. 

For when someone would come into my world and describe their world to me, they revealed the being that they really are. When I ask the simple question, “What do you want?” and they named it and they told me they really want it with all their heart, and then I asked them how would they see the same world had they realized their objective? Looking at the same world they began to describe it differently. I said, “Now, that is the description you must make of the world. You must weave that into your mind, for in so doing you move into the state where that world becomes real relative to that state.” (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Ask yourself by looking inward and attempting to be as honest with yourself as possible, what am I embodying right now? What are the assumptions you have about yourself? Is it that you’re a responsible or irresponsible person? Capable or incapable? Attractive or unattractive? Limitless or limited? All of this relates to your self-concept. Your current state of consciousness dictates the circumstances that await you in your 3D reality. 

Are the assumptions you have about yourself benefiting or harming you?

You can either be attentive to the limitations and feed these and make them mountains, or you can be attentive to your desires; but to become attentive you must assume you are already that which you wanted to be. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Only you have the power to change your internal reality and assumptions. You have the choice to focus on the limitations or to free yourself from them. Now that you are currently aware of what you are conscious of being, you can change them. You are not stuck where you are. You always have the ability to change what you are embodying and believe about yourself. You are ever-changing. 

All through my life I have always accepted the limitations of my senses, I have always looked upon them as fact (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

If there is one thing you should immediately incorporate into your self-concept it is this: You are limitless. There is absolutely no one and nothing that can hold you back or be above you. In your reality, in your life, you are the operant power. The real you is never limited by the physical reality. 

So, what are you conscious of being? And, are you prepared to leave it all behind?

✧˖° 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭? ✧˖°

To the natural mind, reality is confined to the instant called now; this very moment seems to contain the whole of reality, everything else is unreal. To the natural mind, the past and the future are purely imaginary. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are now consciously aware of your current story. The assumptions you perpetuate, which are usually just habitual from the past, are now out in the open. This is now your old self. You can now let go of all the assumptions that are not beneficial to you. Whatever it is, you can let it go. I don’t care what it is, you can let it go. The past is the past. It is never set in stone. 

If you truly want to change who you are and your life, you must leave the undesirable behind. It must be as though it never existed in the first place. You cannot take any part of your old self into your new self. It must completely die in the past to never return again. You must make this decision yourself and commit to it. If you’re not committed to the law and to changing yourself, then it will always be an uphill battle. You must fall in love with your desired self to the point that you cannot live with yourself unless you are satisfied by being them. 

At this very point in time, you can make the decision to leave the old story in the past. By removing your attention from something, you deprive it of what it needs. To make anything real, all you need is attention and belief, so to remove it from your reality, you simply must deprive it of its needs and redirect your attention to the new story.

It’s time to give yourself the life that you deserve. It’s time to stop victimizing yourself in the face of your 3D circumstances. It’s time to take back your power.

You are never stuck where you are. No matter what is happening for you in the 3D, your internal reality is always able to change. Nothing is ever unchangeable. Nothing is ever lost. 

You simply revise, and as you revise the day you repeal the day, for the day is not slipping into the past, it does not recede as people think, it is always advancing into the future to confront you, either pruned or in some strange weed-like state. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

If it is difficult for you to let go, you can always revise, so that your past experiences never have to be present in your life ever again. You can change the past to be as you desired it to be simply by focusing on the desired outcome instead. Pay no mind to what you have experienced. Only give life and attention to the experience you wanted to have. That is all you have to do to revise. 

I understand that some people find revision to be more difficult than manifestation, but remember it’s all the same. The only reason you find it harder is because you are giving your memories and 3D circumstances too much weight. Imagination is reality in itself. Consciousness is the only reality. Therefore, your imagination of the future is just as real as the experience you remember having from the past. Revise, forgive, and let go.

Time is simply a construct of the human mind. In reality, time is happening all at once, but our human brains are only able to comprehend the present moment. Time moves linearly because that is how our human minds understand the universe. However, the past, present, and future are all already in existence right now. 

This is what we mean by “creation is finished.” You are not creating anything, simply tapping into the reality in which you have what you desire. While the 3D man is only able to access the present moment, the 4D man is able to access all dimensions of time. It is why you have deja-vu, or even how some people can access future events through “psychic visions.” Really, they are just manifesting the outcome they have access to. Your imagination has the ability to access any point in time that you can possibly experience. There are infinite possibilities for each of these moments in time. 

This is why you are able to revise and change your past and also manifest to change your future. You are deciding that another outcome happened instead and staying loyal to it so that it really was the version of the past that occurred. And yes, the people around you will remember the event as you revised. Revision is only a manifestation of the past. 

Because consciousness is the only reality I must assume that I am already that which I desire to be. If I do not believe that I am already what I want to be, then I remain as I am and die in this limitation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ✧˖°

You are absolutely responsible for every being you meet in this world; that’s your responsibility. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard) 

I know this may be a sensitive topic to many people, so I will try to explain it the best way I can.

First of all, no one is at fault for what manifests in their world unconsciously. Your experiences and your traumas are still valid, and they are never your fault. 

However, saying that we are only responsible for the good things we manifest is impossible. We can only be the cause for everything in our experience, or none of it. Otherwise, we would be giving our power away to an external source, even if that source is the 3D. You are the sole reason for every single thing you experience in your life. There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, that you experience that is separate from you. It all stems from you. You are the cause, but you are also the solution. 

There is nothing you cannot bring into your experience because if you can imagine it, you can experience it. Absolutely nothing is impossible. 

Does this concern you? Does this make you feel worried or scared? It’s a common feeling. The idea that you would be the reason for all the bad things that have happened in your life seems almost impossible. You’re probably thinking that you would never have wanted that to happen to you. Well, that’s the thing. What manifests isn’t what we want to happen, it’s what we accept as true, what we expect to happen, and the state that we remain in most often. Underlying and subconscious assumptions are also a factor. 

Remember that nothing that has happened to you, especially if it was unconsciously manifested, is ever your fault. We are not at fault for what occurred while we were asleep. Now, however, you have the chance to take control of your life. 

Man is always looking for some prop on which to lean. He is always looking for some excuse to justify failure. This revelation gives man no excuse for failure. His concept of himself is the cause of all the circumstances of his life. All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within. But man does not like to feel that he is solely responsible for the conditions of his life. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Thus, we must take responsibility for the life around us and decide with conviction to change it. Once you take responsibility, you will have a newfound confidence in which you know that you have the power, as the cause of the 3D, to change it however you desire. However, remember that you can only change it if you fall in love with your desired state. Otherwise, you will find yourself in a cycle in which you fall back into the old story again and again. 

You must leave behind the old story and fully embody the new story.

You cannot find a cause outside of your own consciousness. Your world is a grand mirror constantly telling you who you are. As you meet people, they tell you by their behavior who you are. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

It is easy to want to place blame on something outside of you for the undesirable circumstances of your life. I mean, it makes sense. Why would you want to manifest any of the things that have hurt you in the past? So, you look for other reasons. This is why some people are so averse to learning about the law. 

The truth is, everything you experience is your doing. I am not saying that you deliberately did anything, neither am I saying that you deserved it, nor that you are not a victim when it comes to your traumatic experiences. I am saying that you are the cause of everything you have experienced and will experience in your reality. 

While many find this discouraging, I only wish that you find it empowering. Now you know that you have the power to change absolutely every aspect of your life.

Now every man in the world is rooted in you who look out and see that world. Every man is rooted in me; he ends in me as I AM rooted in and end in God. Because he is rooted in me he cannot bear other than the nature the root allows. So he is in me and any changes desired in the outer world can be brought about only if I change the source of the thing I see growing in my world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Everyone (and everything) is you pushed out. Everyone around you reflects your internal reality back to you. If you experience anything undesirable, then know that which you have entertained in your imagination was the cause. 

The only universal truth about your identity is this: I AM. It is the fact that you are conscious right now. You have an internal reality, an imagination, that is capable of creating the world around you. The great news about this is that if you are the cause, then you can be the solution. Actually, you must be the solution, because no one else is going to do it for you. Remember, you are the sole power in your life. No one else can do the work for you

All that we meet is our Word made visible (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

Your inner conversations and what you entertain in imagination are the root of what you experience in your reality. If you are imagining inner conversations with others that often involve disagreements, arguments, or perpetuating undesirable 3D circumstances, then you are manifesting that into your reality. Be conscious of what you are entertaining in imagination. 

This is where a mental diet comes into play. 

Mental diets are not about policing or flipping or being afraid of your thoughts. Your individual thoughts don’t manifest. Also, intrusive thoughts are just thoughts, although you give them more weight by giving them attention and fearing them. Allow them to pass and not affect you. Since they are not part of your state, and they are not a true assumption you have about yourself or your life, they will never manifest. 

In reality, to effectively retain a mental diet, you need to discipline your mind. It takes practice and you may have setbacks, but persisting in that desire to change is the most important thing. Continue returning to your desired state, while also stopping engaging in undesirable states immediately, and cutting off negative inner conversations. Notice when you are entertaining something undesirable in your imagination and stop it in its tracks. If you do this consistently and effectively, you will find yourself struggling much less with your internal reality and circumstances, and also you will not be afraid of intrusive thoughts any longer. You will know that thoughts are just thoughts unless you give them the power to control you and decide your state.

If I am hurt, I am self hurt. If there is darkness in my world, I created the darkness and the gloom and the depression. If there is light and joy, I created the light and the joy. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

You are functioning three-dimensionally and you cannot seem to reach the fourth-dimensional world where your present desire is already a concrete objective reality. You cannot seem to reach it because your senses bar you from it. Reason tells you it is impossible, all things round about you tell you it is not true. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

The 3D world has limitations. There are blockages, disagreements, conflicts, and setbacks at every turn. There are also privileges and systemic issues that hold people back from their true potential. If you base your inner reality on the outer reality, you will be perpetuating undesirable cycles and therefore limiting yourself. The wonderful thing is that we are not confined to the 3D reality. This is because we have our imagination and that in turn is truly limitless.

Notice your imagination right now. Even if you are unable to visualize, simply be aware of your internal world. Notice how there are no restrictions. There are no obstacles. There is no money, no power, and no people. It’s only you. 

There is something that Edward Art mentions often about being all-powerful in imagination. In your mind, you are the only one in control. There are no limitations in imagination. There is no hunger in imagination. If you are hungry in imagination, you can simply imagine that you are full and then it is done. Anything can be brought into your mind with a simple thought or intention. You can imagine yourself at the top of Mount Everest without ever making the trek. You can have anything instantly in imagination. There is no need to fear in your inner world because you are completely in control. You are safe and satisfied in imagination. By experiencing your desires in this safe space, you are cultivating the state of already having and experiencing your desires. Therefore, you are manifesting. Experiencing and having what you desire in imagination is as simple as a thought. This is why you can manifest absolutely anything into your 3D reality. The 3D is a mirror. Whatever you entertain and experience in imagination will be reflected onto your physical reality. 

You will never lose the ability to give unto yourself what you are bold enough to appropriate as true of self (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard) 

I realize that some people are afraid of manifesting because they are worried that they will manifest something they don’t want, or that they will change their mind and decide that they want something else. The thing is, you will always have the ability to manifest. You don’t manifest once and then you’re done. You have infinite power at your disposal. Nothing is ever set in stone. You will always have the ability to manifest. You will always able to change your life. Even if you manifest your dream life and realize you want something else, you will always have the power to change your circumstances. 

Your consciousness is God. It is creation itself. It is the reason you are alive and conscious and experiencing the world around you. Your imagination is an extension of consciousness that you, the 3D man, has access to. By using your imagination with discipline and practice, you can express anything you desire into your life. 

As I stand here, having discovered that my consciousness is God, and that I can by simply feeling that I AM what I want to be transform myself into the likeness of that which I am assuming I am; I know now that I am all that it takes to scale this mountain. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✧˖°

As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are only able to change the external by changing the internal. The 3D, the physical world is simply a reflection of the 4D, the imaginal world. The inner man is your infinite consciousness. This is what you are referring to when you say that you are god/the god of your reality/the operant power. It is all-knowing and all-powerful. 

There is nothing your inner man cannot do. The outer man is limited by the physical world. It has rules and limitations that the inner man does not have. However, the outer man has the ability to influence the inner man to take control of the infinite power he has available to him. By changing your assumptions consciously, and also by changing your state, you will be able to use the inner man’s power to change your outer world. 

People consider imagination to be a world of fantasy or not even a world in itself. However, it is the basis of everything you experience in your life. What you experience, you have once before entertained in imagination. Once you realize that this world is real and tangible and that it truly affects your life, you will know how important it is to take what you entertain internally very seriously. 

Men call imagination a plaything, the “dream faculty.” But actually it is the very gateway of Reality. (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐝 ✧˖°

The whole story is all about you (Control Your Inner Conversations)

Think about this phrase: I AM. It seems so simple. You use it all the time to refer to yourself, whether that be internally or to others. However, it is more than just a phrase. It is this idea that you are. You exist, you are conscious, and you are experiencing life. This is the one truth that you know. That you are here and you are alive.

No one can be before you when you alone possess the power to say I AM. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are the only person that can declare the phrase I AM. You are only able to confirm that you are conscious in your reality since you do not have access to the minds of those around you. This means that you are the sole power in your reality. No one else has any power over you. 

Think about it, in your mind, you don’t have anyone else who is able to tell you what to think, what to imagine, what to desire, what to feel, etc. It is only you. Therefore, only you have the power to manifest anything into your 3D world. No one else has the ability to manifest for you. No one can be above you because you are the operant power in your reality. You cannot lose because you are the only source of power. 

Do you know that no two in this room live in the same world. We are going home to different worlds tonight. We close our doors on entirely different worlds. We rise tomorrow and go to work, where we meet each other and meet others, but we live in different mental worlds, different physical worlds. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Being the god of your reality means that there is no one and nothing above you. There is no other source than you. Your reality is your own. The reason you can manifest anything into your life is because you live in your own reality where you are the operant power. No one can manifest for you, no one can manifest harm unto you, and you cannot manifest for anyone else. You are the sole power in your reality.

We look upon the world as, I would say, a manifestation of consciousness; and the whole vast conditions of men but revelations of individual states of consciousness. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

This also means that any external power is obsolete. The 3D, other people, astrology, numerology, tarot, etc. have no power in your reality. Everything is based on your assumptions, your expectations, everyone is you pushed out, and your conception of self. 

You believe in astrology? You’ve got to sell it. You believe in numerology, in teacup leaves, in numerology and all these things? No matter what you believe in as a power to control you, you’ve got to sell it. It takes all these beliefs and you’ve got to sell them. No one will buy them from you, but you give them up as valueless. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

In order to fully take control and responsibility for your power over your reality, you must give up any and all external sources of power in exchange for your own. Once you have the pearl, you realize that nothing outside of you has any power and that you are the sole source and sole cause of everything that happens in your life. You cannot be the operant power, the god of your reality, by having anything outside of you be more powerful than you are.

If you think for one moment you can hold on to one little thing in the event this doesn’t work, you can’t buy the pearl. And so when I buy the pearl, I go all out and live by it. And there is no other being in this world, just this pearl, and I live by it. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ✧˖°

There is nothing to change but our concept of self. As soon as we succeed in transforming self, our world will dissolve and reshape itself in harmony with that which our change affirms. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Now, you can use all of this to cultivate a new self-concept. All you need to do is leave your old self behind (all the undesirable aspects of yourself you wish to change) and fully embody your new self in the process. 

This can look like anything. Your ideal self-concept can include you focusing on confidence in manifestation, or even confidence in your everyday life. You need to decide who it is you want to be and how you want your life to look as a result. Everything you want to change externally will be changed only if you change internally. Remember that there is no one to change but self. You are the sole person that can change the world around you. You are the cause and you are the solution. 

Remember this: Self-concept is not necessary to manifest. You can manifest without a perfect self-concept. However, if you truly desire to have a life of ease, and to have the life of your dreams, I would greatly encourage you to prioritize your self-concept above anything.

Everything we do, unaccompanied by a change of consciousness, is but futile readjustment of surfaces. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

You cannot easily change your entire life, including everyday occurrences, without working on your self-concept. Here’s what I mean by that: you never stop manifesting. Even when you are not consciously and deliberately trying to manifest something into your life, you’re still manifesting unconsciously. If you work on your self-concept, most things in your life manifest the way you desire unconsciously. You are getting ahead of the game and proactively creating favorable circumstances for yourself. Without this, you will have to be consciously manifesting every little thing you want to change. Working on your self-concept simply makes it easier for you to live a wonderful life filled with your desires and favorable circumstances.

The most important thing in this world to you is your concept of self. When you dislike your environment, the circumstances of life and the behavior of men, ask yourself, " Who am I?" It is your answer to this question that is the cause of your dislikes. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Your circumstances are a reflection of your concept of self. Everything, including the way that people treat you and interact with you, is all based on your self-concept. Nothing is separate from you. Everything is coming from you. Therefore, in order to change your life and circumstances, it is imperative to change your self-concept. 

Change your I AM and you will change the world around you.

We can use our powerful imagination in order to drop the old conception of self and assume the desired self. Since the world is directly a reflection of your self-concept, we must be consciously aware of what concept of self we are currently assuming. Turn to your internal consciousness, your I AM, and dare to assume a new concept of self.

As soon as we succeed in transforming ourselves, the world will melt magically before our eyes and reshape itself in harmony with that which our transformation affirms. (The Search Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 ✧˖°

But now having assumed that I AM what formerly I desired to be, I cannot continue desiring what I AM conscious of being. So I do not discuss it. I talk to no one concerning what I AM. It is so obvious to me that I AM what I wanted to be that I walk as though I were. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Changing your I AM is your power and your path to total freedom.

Incorporating new assumptions is imperative to changing and improving your self-concept. How do you assume? It’s simple. You decide that whatever you desire is true in your world. Then, what is an assumption? It is a belief you have, despite having no physical evidence of its truth. Therefore, you are believing before you are seeing. 

I suspend the limited reason of the natural man and walk in this bold assertion that I am what my senses deny. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

I want you to think of all the times you have assumed negatively with little to no evidence. That was easy, right? So why, when it’s beneficial to you, is it so hard, or even impossible for you to assume something positive about yourself or your life? 

If you cannot instantly believe it, keep trying. Keep pushing. Some people may need practice, yes, but once you have practiced enough, you will be easily able to cultivate new assumptions, especially if you work on your self-concept.

When I feel that I AM what I want to be I cannot suppress the joy that comes with that feeling. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

That this wonderful consciousness of yours is the ultimate reality, and you are free to choose the state into which you will go. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

What is a state? When I talk about states, I mean states of consciousness. They are mindsets that you can consciously access and manipulate by experiencing how you would feel if you already had all your desires manifested. 

Man is incapable of passing over from one state of consciousness into another unless he releases from consciousness that which he now entertains, for it anchors him where he is. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

In order to fully embody a new state, you must leave behind the undesirable state. You must not bring any little piece of your previous state into your new desired state. It must be completely released in order to appropriate the new state. 

It is not a complicated idea because you are always occupying a state. That is, unless you are in the I AM state, which is when you detach from everything physical, everything changeable, and focus on the one truth about you, that you are. That you exist and you are conscious. That is the one true and unchangeable thing about your reality and your life. Therefore, you don’t have to try so hard to achieve your desired state. 

He can pass now from this present state into any desired state in the world, for no power can stop you from dwelling in imagination where you desire to dwell. So, placing yourself there, you begin to think from it, and not constantly starve yourself by thinking of it. So I will go and prepare it, and preparing it I will dwell in it, and begin to think from it. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

The state you desire to occupy is always within arm’s reach. Experience what you desire in imagination, feel the wish fulfilled, and persist in that state. Don’t constantly worry whether or not you achieved the state. If you felt the wish fulfilled and experienced your desire in imagination, then you are in the desired state. If you know that your desires are yours, then you are in the desired state. Don’t overcomplicate, simplify.

In my imagination, I go and prepare the state. I actually go into the state and fill that state with my own being, and view the world from that state. I don’t think of it; I think from it. When I think from it, I’m actually preparing that state. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard) 

✧˖° 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

For dwelling in the state long enough clothes the state in flesh. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Persistence is one of the most important aspects of manifestation. You persist, meaning that you remain faithful, to your desires, so that they will manifest into your physical reality. You are consistently returning to the desired state, and feeling it real. 

Once you have felt the wish fulfilled, your desire is promised to you. It must come. It has no other choice but to manifest physically into your world. 

That is the secret: thinking from what I want, instead of thinking of what I want. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard)

While you are persisting it is important that you stay consistent in thinking from your desire, rather than just thinking of it. What does it mean to think from your desire? It means that you are in the state of already having it and allowing yourself to think from that state of mind. So, instead of thinking of your desire (as something separate from you), you are thinking from your desire (from the perspective of someone who already has it).

By thinking from your desire, you are showing your inner man that you are fully embodying the state of someone who has what you desire. 

But now having assumed that I AM what formerly I desired to be, I cannot continue desiring what I AM conscious of being. So I do not discuss it. I talk to no one concerning what I AM. It is so obvious to me that I AM what I wanted to be that I walk as though I were. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Therefore that which you seek you already are, it can never be so far off as even to be near, for nearness implies separation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

What does it mean when we say nearness implies separation? It means that you cannot think of your desire as separate from you in any capacity. This means that there is no such thing as a time crunch. Focusing on time and how long it will take implies you do not have your desire already, which is counterintuitive to the law. To successfully manifest with the law of assumption, you must assume that you already are fulfilled with your desire. Then, you persist in that state of fulfillment. That is all you need to do. Methods are not necessary. Nothing else is necessary but assuming and persisting in the state of the wish fulfilled. Therefore, if you are focused on it being separate from you (such as separated by time), then you are not in the state of the wish fulfilled. You are still in the state of desire. Fulfill your desire in imagination and you will never have to worry about time.

For to desire is to confess that you do not now possess what you desire, and because all things are yours, you rob yourself by living in the state of desire (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✧˖°

You don’t accept one thing in the world as final unless it conforms to the ideal you want to realize in the world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Now, I know there are times when it feels like the physical world is still not changing the way you want it to be. In those instances, it may feel like the world is telling you “no.” Even in this case, you must persist. There is no failure. You can only fail if you are not faithful to your desire. 

There is no limit to the power of belief or to the possibilities of prayer, but you must be brazenly impudent and not take No for an answer. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard) 

You must never take no for an answer. You must remain stubbornly faithful to your desires. Never compromise when it comes to your desires. Never accept “half-manifestations.” 

Only allow yourself to be satisfied once everything you desired has materialized exactly the way you wanted it to. Only then can you move on.

The Sabbath is the day of stillness wherein there is no working. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

The sabbath is this time period in which you no longer feel the need to do anything else to achieve your desire. You do not want because you know that what you have once desired is now yours. This means that you have fully accepted the reality of your desire in imagination. You are satisfied with having it in the 4D, therefore you know that it is yours in the 3D, no matter what you see or experience in the physical world.

You must remain faithful to your desires no matter what. Only you can stand in your own way.

Do not compromise. Decide exactly what you want and assume you have it. If your world would change, determine what it would look like; then construct a scene which would imply you are there. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard) 

✧˖° 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 ✧˖°

Denying the evidence of the senses and appropriating the feeling of the wish fulfilled is the way to the realization of your desire.  (The Feeling is the Secret - Law and its Operation Neville Goddard)

Now, this entire document has been mainly focused on changing your internal reality and your self-concept, and that was deliberate. While I know manifestation’s entire purpose is to get things in the 3D and change your physical reality, I think it’s more important to focus on the internal change before anything. Once you introduce any kind of change into your internal reality, the external reality must express this change. After you realize that changing your internal reality is all you need to do in order to give yourself your dream life, you will have all the knowledge you need to manifest anything into your physical reality.

That state has its own unique way of becoming embodied in this world, of becoming flesh that the whole world may touch it. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

Now I will briefly discuss physical manifestation. Here is how it works: Remaining in the state of your wish fulfilled internally with persistence will allow it to be manifested upon the physical reality. You never need to act as if in the physical. You can still remain faithful to your obligations and responsibilities in the 3D. That will not affect your manifestation. You can be working a 9-5 and still manifest being financially free. You can be living in difficult circumstances and still manifest your dream life. It’s not about ignoring the 3D, it’s about remaining faithful to the 4D. 

You cannot take thought as to the how, when you know that you are already. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

I also wish to remind you that you do not need to concern yourself with how your assumptions will be made manifest. If you’d prefer to detail how your dream life will manifest, then that is your choice. However, it is not necessary, since your infinite consciousness already knows exactly how to give it to you in the absolute best way possible. 

We say that you should not think about the how because it can get overwhelming. Sometimes there is a fear that it will not manifest the way you desire, or maybe the idea of it coming to fruition is the scary part. This is why you should remain in the end. Focus on the end result you desire and remain faithful to that and you will never need to concern yourself with the details.

Do not let anyone tell you that you must struggle and suffer. You need not struggle for the realization of your desire. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

Finally, manifestation does not take effort or struggle. There is no struggle. You do not have to force anything to happen. No physical action is needed to manifest. All there is to do is change self. Once you take the necessary steps and do the only thing required of you, then everything else will be taken care of for you. 

You need not be concerned with the affairs of the inner man. Simply have faith and the rest will be done.

The condition which I desired and assumed that I had, becomes objectified within my world and bears witness to the power of my assumption. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hello! As someone with an newfound interest in Ren'Py and the way it works, I'm going to be dissecting the code of Our Life to explain (roughly) how the game adjusts Cove's look based on your actions. We'll be looking specifically at the transition between Step 1 and Step 2 Cove since that's the very first one that players will experience (I might detail Step 3's changes and Step 4's changes if people want that).

According to GB Patch themselves in response to asks, the way Cove changes his appearance is relatively simple:

His appearance is based on your choices and not random, but it’s taste/aesthetic-based choices rather than the usual conversation type options. So, being nervous or outgoing or what have you will influence Cove’s personality, while choosing the things you like will impact the way Cove looks.

Technically, this is accurate, but not entirely in terms of some decisions you can make that determine Cove's appearance.

Coding-wise, changing Cove's appearance is a simple True/False (yes/no) variable, not a point system. After one decision, Cove might change from the natural evolution of his Step 1 hair (Hair1) to the fluffier hair (Hair2) and it doesn't matter how many times you pick options that would cause that hair: if the last decision is for the hair with the middle part, that's what you'll end up getting.

The TL;DR of it is that, for the most part, things that the MC notices/picks up/favors/focuses on will influence Cove's appearance, but there are a couple that aren't like that and will change him anyway. If you're doing a repeat playthrough and are intentionally trying to get a different Cove, then picking different taste/aesthetic choices is the way to go, but be aware that it's not a guarantee; some options will lead to the same outcome you chose before.

If you want to see what options specifically change his look, then feel free to continue reading\~

The first chance that the player has is when they meet Cove on poppy hill during the prologue. They're given choices on what to "notice first" (according to the game's internal code) and the options lead to different appearance changes:

Green hair. [takes off Cove's glasses and puts on his left pink beaded bracelet]

Wavy eyebrows. [takes off Cove's glasses]

Huge glasses. [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

Pink casts. [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

Sad frowns. [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones and puts on his left pink beaded bracelet]

The last chance is during the ending of Step 1 where you have the option to either go home or stay with Cove, completely unrelated to taste/aesthetic altogether.

If you choose to go home, Cove's hair is set to the fluffy hair, but if you stay, nothing will be set until you get to talk to Cove about his feelings on Sunset Bird.

"Do you hate it here?" [sets Cove's hair to the middle-parted one]

"This can be your home." [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

"It'll be alright." [no change]

This means that you will never get anything on Cove's right wrist (his right, not our right) if you choose not to play any of the moments (or somehow skipped to Step 2 without playing Step 1, because Cove - by default - doesn't wear bracelets). His pajamas and jacket (the one he dons during Step 2's Road Trip) will likewise remain at their defaults.

This includes if you choose to only play Step 1's Library specifically. It's the singular moment that doesn't contain any chances to change Cove's appearance.

As for the other moments...

Shopping

Your chance is when you see the four keychains at the shopping street with Cove.

You picked up the dolphin. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt and the light blue pajama shirt]

You picked up the shark. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt and the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

You picked up the crab. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt and the light blue pajama shirt]

You picked up the turtle. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt and the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

Grown Up

Cove's pants change (that sounds weird but I'm not taking it back) depending on if you tell your moms what happened between Cove and Lizzie or not.

You told the truth. [gives Cove the pants with the belt]

You lied. [gives Cove the pants with the stripes]

Long Day

Changing Cove's pajamas (and only his pajamas, unlike in Shopping) is done when the MC decides which dessert they're craving.

A popsicle. [gives Cove the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

An ice cream cone. [gives Cove the light blue pajama shirt]

An ice cream sandwich. [gives Cove the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

Then you change his casual shirt when you're watching the clouds with Cove, depending on what you see.

You saw a dolphin. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt]

You saw a car. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt]

You saw an alpaca. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt]

You saw a smiley face. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt]

You saw cloud shapes. [no change]

Sandcastle

This time, it's the type of sandcastle you make that varies Cove's hair specifically.

A house. [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

A castle. [sets Cove's hair to the middle-parted one]

A mansion. [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

Then, his pants change based on what you top the sandcastle with.

Red bottlecap. [gives Cove the pants with the belt]

Blue seashell. [gives Cove the pants with the stripes]

Green piece of seaglass. [no change]

Fireflies

Cove will wear (or not wear) the beaded necklace from how you respond to your Mom prompting you on your excitedness to see/catch the fireflies.

"Yeah!" [no change]

You started eating faster. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

You looked over at your moms. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

You pushed your food around your plate. [no change]

Ghost

You get another chance to put on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet regardless of whether you choose to talk to your moms or go outside.

If you went to talk to your moms, the bracelet may or may not be put on depending on what topping you ask for on your toast.

"Jam." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"Peanut butter." [no change]

"Honey." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"Just butter." [no change]

"Extra butter." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

If you chose to go outside instead, the kind of genre you choose for the story you say you and Cove are in decides it.

"It's a horror story." [no change]

"It's an action story." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"It's a fantasy story." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"It's a documentary." [no change]

Barbecue

Cove's right wristwear changes if you choose to sneak a snack when no one's watching.

A baby tomato. [puts on Cove's right shark tooth wrap bracelet]

A small carrot. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A cocktail sausage. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A rolled piece of ham. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A potato chip. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A tortilla chip. [puts on Cove's right shark tooth wrap bracelet]

Cove may also get the beaded necklace if you pick certain drink options from the cooler.

Soda. [no change]

Water. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

Juice. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

Milk. [no change]

Runaway

This moment only gives you a chance to change Cove's look if you go along with him; specifically, his glasses depending on which snack you ask from him.

"Chips." [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

"A muffin." [takes off Cove's glasses]

"A banana." [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones]

"Candy." -> "Fruity candy." [takes off Cove's glasses]

"Candy." -> "Chocolate." [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

"Nothing. I'm not hungry." [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones]

Sleepover

If you've been following so far and been wondering when your chance to finally change Cove's jacket is, this is it! It's from how you describe the storybook that Cove picks up.

"I love the main character 'cause the squire's really brave and funny." [gives Cove the white and bright pink jacket]

"It has cool pictures. Some of them even take up the whole page." [gives Cove the gray and black jacket]

"Mommy reads it to me. She uses different voices for every character." [gives Cove the white and bright pink jacket]

"There's a dragon in it and crazy things happen." [gives Cove the gray and black jacket]

So, just in case you're the type of player who doesn't like using the Cove Creator but still wants a little more control (either by picking different options or changing the order of moments so your last choices land on what you want), now you can engineer things to your liking because you know how it works!

And if you were just here for the data, then I hope you enjoyed anyway~

[misshoneyimhome]

Hi! I'm the anon about Willy wrecking her respectfully, so what i was thinking is that she hasn't great experiences and he has been patient and exploring what she likes. So she wants to learn what he likes and his kinks hope that makes sense.

Okay okay, so I've got to admit, this might be the longest smutty imagine I've written so far 🙈 and I may have gotten a bit carried away, having not planned it out at all (obviously) - but I hope, fingers crossed here, I still captured your idea! 🫢🤍

I think it goes without saying, but:

Warnings; 18+ smut; fingering; oral sex (f and m receiving); portected & unprotected penetrating sex; light spanking; mild choking; brief public stimulating; very light bondage; language; and i think that's about it;

Word count: 5.6K

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you | William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

"Okay, next question!" Estelle exclaimed loudly, wearing a grin.

"Alright, what's the most thrilling or unusual place you've had sex?" Stephanie read aloud from her phone, displaying the list of questions.

And you found yourself involuntarily holding your breath just a bit as the question was announced.

It was a simple game of truth or dare that you were playing with your friends, a few players from the Toronto Maple Leafs, and their girlfriends, wives, or fiancées. However, since no one ever really chose "dare," you all eventually switched to just answering truth questions instead.

Maybe it seemed a bit odd for you to be there since you weren't specifically involved with any of the players. But as a close friend of some of the girls, having met them through another mutual friend and simply being welcomed into their tight-knit group, it didn't feel out of place at all. In fact, you felt more like a part of the group than your mutual friend ever did. And given how well you were getting along with the girls, it was natural that you'd been spending so much time with them.

And you weren't the only single person there. Some of the players were also single, so it was a good mix of people.

However, knowing your relatively new group of friends quite well already, you were aware they all had much funnier stories than you. And worst of all, they would now discover your lack of interesting sexual experiences in your life.

Not that you were a virgin or anything. However, like few others in their mid-twenties, you hadn't really delved into most sexual activities. But those kinds of details about you were unknown to any of them.

You could, of course, choose to lie, but let’s face it, you were terrible at lying, and they’d easily see through any attempt.

"Oh, once was at a New Year’s party in the walk-in closet," Auston admitted with a boisterous grin.

"Please, don’t tell me it was one of our parties, Auston!" Stephanie almost cried, knowing that she and Mitch often hosted such events, just like tonight.

"Guess you'll never know," the lad from Scottsdale replied casually, with a shrug and an excessively mischievous laugh, making both Stephanie and Mitch reconsider the next time they’d plan to host anything where Auston might bring a date.

"Alright, who's up next? Willy!" Mitch shouted in a playful manner.

"Uh, at a pool party in the pool house back home in Sweden," he smirked, briefly reminiscing about the memory of that day.

"Ah, that time Sandy and Alex caught you, right?" Auston chuckled.

"Yup, one of the several times," William laughed in response.

"Okay, and next up is y/n," Estelle announced excitedly, and you had to summon every ounce of energy to keep from showing any signs of blushing.

"Oh... um... didn’t I already have a turn?" you tried to casually brush it off, but without success.

"Nope, it's your turn now, come on y/n! I bet it’s something really dirty," Auston teased from across the coffee table. Meanwhile, William's gaze was fixed on you intensely, with everyone eagerly awaiting your answer. "It's always the cute ones who are the kinkiest," he teased further, and you just shook your head, chuckling lightly.

"Well, um... Alright," you coughed a bit as you gathered the courage to share. "I guess it'll have to be... by the foot of the bed," you breathed out, causing complete silence to envelop the room.

"I think we have a winner," Max cheered jokingly, prompting the others to join in with 'oohs' and laughter. And you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you but managed to chuckle along with the rest of the group.

"Wait a minute," Auston interjected. "Are you saying that the most exciting place you've had sex was at the foot of your bed?"

"Yeah..." you sighed softly. "Well, to be fair, I've only been in one long-term relationship, with my high school sweetheart, and the guy just wasn’t exactly the most adventurous type - more like a 'missionary position only' kind of person," you explained with a slightly nervous smile. "And the only two one-night stands I've had after the breakup; one was too drunk to even manage anything, and the other didn’t exactly have the time to explore different positions, so..."

Your friends kept their gaze on you for a moment longer before all letting out chuckles and moving on to the next person, Max.

The game carried on for about half an hour before the group slowly dispersed, and soon, you were preparing to head home as well.

"Hey, I can walk with you some of the way?" William suggested as you both were getting your coats and shoes on.

"Sure, that would be nice, Willy," you replied, genuinely appreciative of his kind offer. Being a young woman alone late at night in the dark Toronto winter wasn’t always the most comfortable feeling.

And as both of you stepped into the chilly city air, you began to walk towards the underground station. Knowing that William lived in the opposite direction, you found it genuinely thoughtful of him to walk with you.

William Nylander was probably one of the people you'd connected with instantly among the many you'd been introduced to. His natural calm and laid-back energy were incredibly comforting, and his laughter was always extremely contagious. Additionally, you shared a similar quirky sense of humour, a profound love for food, and a mutual interest in the diverse cultures of Europe, which he would passionately discuss.

Overall, he was just a really cool guy. He consistently included you in social gatherings and, like tonight, offered to walk with you so that you wouldn't be alone.

And as you strolled the streets of Toronto, your conversation flowed across various topics, never any awkward silence between you.

Over the past several months, you'd shared many personal details with the Swede - things you wouldn't typically discuss with someone you’d just met. However, William had a way of encouraging you to open up.

Which was also how he suddenly changed the topic of your conversation as you walked side by side. Something from your earlier game lingered in his mind, and he couldn't let you go home without some clarification.

"Is it really true, what you mentioned back at Mitchy's place?" he asked curiously.

"Which part?"

"You know, about never really experiencing anything exciting with sex?" William turned his head to look at you, his eyes revealing a soft expression as he pondered how that could be.

Looking up at him, you offered a sweet, slightly resigned smile and nodded gently.

"I'm afraid so…"

"But then, how do you know what you like and don't like?" he asked, stopping in the middle of the pavement, a touch puzzled.

"I suppose I don't really know, Willy…" you chuckled, feeling a bit nervous. "As I said, my ex wasn't really keen on trying new things…"

"But don’t you want to find out?"

"Well, actually… I am a little curious," you smiled, glancing down at the ground before meeting his gaze again. "It's just that I'm not seeing anyone at the moment and considering my not-so-great experiences with one-night stands… it's not exactly what I think would be the best option."

William held an intense gaze, as if trying to discern your thoughts. Then with a soft smile, he took a step towards you.

"How about I help you figure it out?" he almost timidly proposed, yet his tone carried a significant level of confidence.

**

It wasn't exactly a secret within the team that William had taken an interest in you since you'd met.

He found you undeniably attractive, sweet, and funny, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by the whole team how he consistently included you in group activities.

Though initially, William's intention was purely to be friendly. But as he got to know you better over time, a growing desire to spend more time alone with you developed within him.

The way you spoke passionately about your hobbies, work, family, dreams, and aspirations captivated him. Your smile was incredibly endearing, and deep down, he longed to be the reason behind that lovely laughter.

So, upon learning about how you hadn't been treated the way he thought you deserved in your previous relationships, particularly in terms of sexual experiences, his heart felt disappointed on your behalf. He strongly believed that you deserved to experience complete pleasure with someone who would treat you respectfully and tenderly, while showing the endless and wonderful possibilities when it came to sex. Perhaps someone like… him?

Yet, William had never made a definitive move on you. Uncertain if you were open to starting something new since your breakup, he chose to maintain a casual and friendly demeanour around you.

Which, consequently, left you with no idea about what was going on in the mind of the Swedish lad.

In your perspective, William was simply a good friend, always ready to offer support and a listening ear.

Or, perhaps, a really good-looking friend. With an infectious laughter, a fantastic sense of humour, and not to mention his body. Oh yes, you’d definitely noticed his muscular, well-built figure. How could you not?

The man had the confidence to roam around in tiny shorts and a bare torso at any time of the day - before training, after training, before games, after games. He didn't shy away from showing off his body, and rightfully so.

If you were to be honest, you'd admit that thoughts about William Nylander had crossed your mind, even the sexual kind. However, you'd never dare to speak those thoughts, considering it inappropriate for your friendship.

Yet, a part of you couldn't help but linger on William’s words. The way he looked at you intensely stirred unexpected feelings within you - feelings that seemed to run deeper than you had anticipated.

However, there was no way William could be entertaining such thoughts about you, you thought. You were simply his innocent friend; someone he spent time with from time to time.

But his recent words seemed to convey something else.

"What?"

"I'll help you figure what you like, if you want to?"

Was he being serious?

**

And yes, William was dead serious.

He even repeated his proposition the next time you met, after leaving you somewhat puzzled with a 'think about it' accompanied by a smirk.

Following a training session at the rink, he whispered suggestive remarks in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Which led to the very moment when you found yourself in his bedroom the night after.

After dedicating your entire Saturday to shaving, moisturising, and carefully selecting your best lingerie and cutest outfit, you arrived at his place, a bundle of nerves but also overwhelmingly intrigued.

"Relax, y/n/n," William spoke gently as you stood in his spacious living room, handing you a glass of water.

"I am relaxed, Willy," you chuckled lightly. "Believe it or not, this is me relaxed."

William simply offered you a reassuring smile as he contemplated what was about to unfold in his condo.

He understood it wouldn't be anything overly sensational. It was simply a beginning, an opportunity for you to explore different aspects of sex, to discover what you might enjoy. He knew he had to be patience with you, guiding you through this journey of exploration.

Though, in the depths of his desires, he simply wanted to wreck you completely, fuck you to the point where you'd lose track of how many times you'd come. However, that wasn't the agenda for tonight.

And as you sipped your water, meeting William's intense gaze, you too pondered what was about to happen.

You were aware of William's extensive experience in the sexual department, as he wasn't one to be shy about it. Yet, he often came across as an overly laid-back young lad, someone who might not prioritise a partner's needs over his own. However, it turned out he was quite the opposite.

And upon learning that he genuinely cared about your lack of experience, aiming to respectfully push boundaries and understand your desires further, left you wondering about what lay beneath his calm and youthful facade. It was in that moment, you simply yearned to explore new territories with him, discovering his deepest desires and what turned him on.

"Come on," William softly urged as you finished your drink, placing the glass on the table and guiding you slowly to the bedroom.

Although you had previously had sex in a bedroom, William thought it would be a comfortable place to begin - a space where you could relax and explore other aspects first, such as different positions and sexual activities.

Then upon entering his bedroom, he took his time to ease your obvious nerves. His lips tenderly met yours, as his hands gently explored your body and hair. Skilfully, his tongue ventured into your mouth, intertwining with yours, and mixing your saliva, meanwhile his hands moved down your upper body, finding the edge of your clothing before delicately slipping underneath, caressing your smooth skin. Gradually, he undressed you, one piece of item at a time, only parting his lips from yours when necessary.

It wasn't hurried nor eager; it was tranquil and soothing as you stood before him in your finest lace underwear, his eyes lustfully appreciating every curve of your body. And it felt entirely natural, as William, as always, made you feel at ease and comfortable in his presence.

"Lie down on the bed," he softly instructed, and you obeyed instinctively.

As you lay on your back, William removed his own shirt and positioned himself above you, gently planting a cautious kiss on your lips before speaking.

"Has anyone ever touched you... like this?" His fingers traced the soft skin of your body, trailing down your stomach to the edge of your underwear, before slipping inside and stroking your folds, causing a soft moan from you.

"Mmm..." you softly nodded, confirming that you had experienced being touched this way before. Surely, you had been fingered a few times as a form of foreplay before penetrative sex.

William maintained his focus on you as his finger continued into your warmth, gently poking your entrance and gradually sliding inside, prompting a soft moan from you. He worked his finger in and out a few times, coating it thoroughly with your juices before slowly adding another, while observing your expressions as he brought you pleasure. Then with his fingers still inside you, he whispered softly in your ear.

"Has anyone ever kissed you... down there?"

And to this, you shook your head in response, a clear 'no' to his question, causing a smirk to form on his rosy lips.

"Then that's where we'll start," he announced before tracing kisses along your jawline, down your neck, between your breasts, and lower, reaching the area where his fingers were working their magic. Gently, he then removed his fingers and hooked them around the edge of your lacy underwear, pulling them off and discarding them along with the rest of your clothes.

William hen positioned himself between your legs, and gently encouraged them to part, wrapping his arms around your thighs before bringing his mouth tantalisingly close to your core.

This was something you had often wanted to try, but your ex had always been unwilling.

And now, you were in for a treat.

Your first moan escaped uncontrollably as William's tongue delicately traced your folds, licking your juices before his mouth began sucking on your clit.

"Fuck," you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets firmly on either side of your head, as he skilfully worked his mouth, exploring every inch of your most sensitive area, licking and sucking, drawing out your sweet nectar, and occasionally teasing your entrance. Then as your breaths grew incoherent and uncontrollable, William adjusted his position slightly, freeing an arm to once again guide his two long fingers to stimulate your inner walls. Your fluids mixed with his saliva, granting him easy access to thrust his digits in and out of you, gently angling them to hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Willy," you breathed out, feeling waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You sensed a satisfaction in him, as if he were smirking with contentment into your cunt, making you a mess under his touch. "I think... I think I'm gonna..."

William then gently withdrew his mouth from your warmth and concentrated on using his fingers to bring you closer to the brink, fulfilling your intense longing.

"That's it, baby, just relax and let go," he softly encouraged. And it didn't take more than a few seconds for you to lean your head back into the pillow, closing your eyes as waves of ecstasy filled your mind, and pleasure surged through your veins, leading you to climax.

"Shit, Willy," you softly breathed, opening your eyes as you gradually calmed down from the intense orgasm. Then he gently withdrew his fingers, licking them clean, a huge smirk on his lips as he stood to undress completely.

Your gaze followed him intensely as he moved to his nightstand, retrieving a small foil packet before returning to kneel in front of you on the bed.

"You're doing great, babe," he praised you, his voice deep and gentle.

"Willy... can I?" you asked timidly, biting your lower lip gently as your eyes glanced towards his hard member, standing proudly.

But William gently shook his head. "Another time, tonight is only about your needs, babe," and you couldn't really argue with that.

Although William indeed wanted to experience your sweet lips wrapped around him, feeling the warmth of your mouth and throat, it would have to wait for another night. He was already on the edge himself, holding back in order to give you the time and comfort needed to explore new positions.

So, instead, he unwrapped the foil, prepared himself, and then firmly grasped your thighs while locking eyes with you.

"Ever tried doggy?" he inquired.

Once again, you signalled your lack of experience with a gentle shake of your head.

And with a dark chuckle, William used his strong arms to flip you forcefully onto your hands and knees, causing you to gasp softly. It was a new but thrilling experience; you couldn't see his face, yet you anticipated what was to follow.

You then felt a gentle pressure from the tip of his cock before he slowly entered you deeply, your walls enveloping his length while his hands maintained a firm grip on your hips.

"Shit, you're tight," William moaned as he stretched you with each thrust. And you couldn't help the sounds escaping your lips as he moved in and out, establishing a steady rhythm, your hands gripping tightly onto the sheets beneath you.

He felt incredible inside you, and as he increased the intensity, moans grew louder, filling the hot, heavy air of the room alongside heavy breaths. Your juices coated his shaft with every movement, and you began to feel another surge of an orgasm as he filled every inch within you, reaching the very depths of your being.

Then William's next idea hovered in his mind, a bit intrusive, yet he hesitated. Perhaps it was too much, too soon for you. However, curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to push your boundaries just a little further.

Besides, this was all about discovering your likes after all.

His firm hold on your hips relaxed slightly as his hand tenderly caressed your soft skin, retracting momentarily before delivering a sharp smack across your tender flesh, eliciting a shriek as the painful sensation coursed through your body.

Painful, yet mixed with pleasure.

And then another sting followed as his hand connected with your ass once again, a hint of redness starting to appear on your skin.

It was all so intense. Never before had you experienced such a potent mix of pleasure and pain.

And it didn't take long before your second orgasm approached, your walls contracting with pleasure as it surged through your body. You couldn't hold back; William's increasing thrusts were pushing you over the edge, making you arch your back, as your mind went blank, and you came all over him.

William sensed himself nearing his climax too, his movements becoming sloppier as he felt you tightening around him.

However, he wasn't quite prepared to finish just yet.

Instead, he withdrew from your warmth, leaving you feeling empty, before swiftly flipping you onto your back and entering you once more. Your hands instinctively found the back of his shoulders as your legs lifted slightly, granting him better access in this familiar position.

His pace quickened, thrusting harder and faster as he neared climax.

Your moans grew louder, accompanied by the release of air from your lungs, but then your sounds were briefly muffled as William's hand gently found your throat.

It wasn't a tight grip but enough to surprise you as he pressed you down into the mattress while continuing his vigorous thrusting. Pearls of sweat formed on his forehead as he prepared to reach his peak.

"Fuck," a deep grunt escaped from him. And with a few more forceful thrusts, William finally came, releasing himself into the condom.

Breathing heavily and still filled with husky sounds, he needed a moment to compose himself.

And a silence settled in the room as he then carefully pulled out of you, settling beside you after disposing of the condom in the nearby bin.

"So," he softly broke the silence. "Was it okay?"

"Okay? Willy, I just experienced two of the most intense and best orgasms ever," you chuckled, resting on your side, gazing at him with a satisfied smile.

"I wasn't too rough with you?" William chuckled lightly, still a bit out of breath, lying on his back with an arm resting above his head, as he met your gaze.

"It was certainly... something else," you replied softly. "But... I have to admit, I really enjoyed it."

That reassured William. He had been unsure whether he had pushed your boundaries too far but knowing it had been a positive experience for you eased his mind.

"Good, that's good."

"So, is this a particular kink of yours? Being dominant in bed?" you softly inquired, eliciting a light chuckle from him.

"Sometimes," he simply replied. "I mean, I guess I've always liked taking charge, but it doesn't always have to be rough or anything like that."

"What else do you enjoy?"

William flashed you a curious smile, turning to his side and propping his head on his arm. "Many things, like the positions we tried tonight. But I also really like spontaneous sex, that's usually fun, and then there's something hot about sex in different locations or having the girl on top," he explained, watching keenly for your reaction, finding your interest in his desires rather intriguing.

"And you enjoy going down on women?"

"Absolutely."

"Well..." you timidly began, briefly pressing your lips together before speaking again. "If you're interested... I'd like to do more. I want to learn more about what you like, what turns you on."

William couldn't help but smile at your sudden curiosity, feeling rather happy about the prospect of being the one to introduce you to various levels of pleasure.

"On one condition," he softly replied. "I'd like to take you out."

Your eyes brightened like Christmas lights at his words.

"You what?"

"I want to take you out, y/n. You're not just someone random I've had sex with and then moved on to the next girl. I really like you."

You could sense that it wasn't easy for him to admit his feelings, but you couldn't help but smile as you realised that William Nylander actually had feelings for you, and you had to admit, you felt the same way.

"I'd like that, Willy. I really like you too."

**

Your first date with William was sweet and simple. He ordered takeout from his favourite place, Sugo's, and you both enjoyed it on the sofa, indulging in a classic Netflix and chill session.

And then naturally, it evolved into a passionate kissing session, with you straddling him, and his hands on your ass while your fingers tangled in his blonde locks.

He let you take the lead, exploring the idea of you being somewhat in charge, which eventually led to you riding him in the bedroom. However, even though you were on top, his hands on your hips still guided the intensity. Yet, it was still thrilling to explore new positions with him, discovering ways to please him while satisfying yourself.

But you still wanted to explore things further, as you sensed that he was still holding back.

And by the next home game, sporting his jersey on the side line among the other partners of the team, you made it a personal mission to seduce him, boosted by your newfound confidence.

But as fate would have it, after the team secured a great win, they decided to celebrate with a dinner outing, partners included.

And to your surprise, nobody on the team was surprised when William proudly took your hand and tagged you along as his date. In fact, it seemed everyone had been waiting for it for quite some time.

Then amidst laughter and cheers at the dinner table with good friends, William seized the opportunity to address your lingering curiosity about his kinks. Leaning in while Auston and Max were engrossed in sharing a story from their latest road trip, he whispered into your ear in a seductive tone.

"Are you sure you want to know about my preferences?"

And gently, you simply nodded, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

"Then take off your panties."

You were slightly taken aback, feeling your heart race at his words, and turned to face him, slightly puzzled.

"Here?" you whispered.

William simply nodded, flashing a mischievous grin and lustful eyes. And so, you did. Carefully, without attracting any attention, you discreetly slid your lacy thong from beneath your skirt, smoothly removing them from your legs, before bending down, and retrieved them under the table, leaning up to tuck them into William's pocket.

So, being naughty in public was a kink of his, you thought.

And the thrill of it intrigued you too. Sitting there, with nothing underneath, your secret known only to your partner beside you.

Then just as you thought that was the extent of his actions, William smoothly placed his hand on your thigh, gently gliding it upwards towards your warmth, causing you to gasp softly, still trying to maintain composure so no one would notice.

His fingers lightly brushed against your core, barely exerting any pressure, yet his touch was enough to quicken your pulse.

"Hey, anyone up for dessert?" Reaves called out, catching everyone's attention.

"Sorry, but I think we're calling it a night," the team's captain announced, citing the need to get home to their children.

"Yeah, we're pretty tired too," Max added.

And then William joined in as well. "I think we'll have dessert at home."

His cheeky remark prompted the team to erupt with whistles and playful looks, while your cheeks flushed with a light pink hue, slightly embarrassed by the attention.

However, that embarrassment quickly faded.

Once you were in the car with William, heading back to his condo, something entirely different occupied your thoughts: his two fingers delving deep inside you while he navigated the streets of Toronto with his other hand.

"Willy, I'm close," you gasped heavily, your body trembling with sheer pleasure, your hand instinctively grasping the door handle.

"Don't come," he commanded, causing you to look at him, slightly confused.

"What?"

"I said, don't come," his voice was firm, his gaze fixed on the road.

Oh, so this was another one of his kinks?

You had to stifle your breath to regain control, but his touch made it exceedingly challenging. And your grip tightened as William's fingers continued their movements inside you.

Fortunately, your torment ended soon after. Not in the way you desired, but as William withdrew his hand upon arriving at his apartment building, leaving you both disappointed and needy.

Clearly, another kink.

Passionately connecting your lips, you rode the elevator up to his floor, and upon reaching his door, he swiftly opened it, shedding coats and shoes. Using the leverage of his size, he effortlessly lifted you into his arms and carried you to the kitchen, where he placed you on his large dining table.

"No bedroom tonight?" you asked breathlessly, a playful smirk on your face.

"No," William chuckled, gently shaking his head. "I told you; we're having dessert at home."

And without further words, William squatted before you, lifting your skirt a bit higher, positioning you at the edge of the table, then tossing your legs over his shoulders, and buried his mouth between your thighs.

"Fuck, Willy!" you moaned loudly, your hand entwined in his dishevelled hair as he expertly ate you out. Which had become something you immensely enjoyed by now.

Balancing yourself with your other arm, you tilted your head back slightly, feeling the arousal surge once more.

And this time, he allowed you to reach your long-awaited orgasm, licking up all your essence as you unravelled in pleasure.

"You taste so fucking amazing," William chuckled, kissing the inside of your thigh, lightly nipping your skin, as he made sure to leave a mark where he'd been.

"Not fair that you're the only one getting dessert," you said seductively, suddenly feeling more empowered than ever before.

"Oh, definitely not," William chuckled softly, a surge of excitement coursing through him as he stood and undid his belt, stepping back to let you join him. And with a smile, you kneeled in front of him, licking your lips in anticipation of finally tasting him.

And without hesitation, you eagerly lowered his trousers, only to find that William too had gone commando during dinner.

"Naughty boy," you sensually chuckled, giving his member a few gentle strokes before licking up the shaft, softly teasing the tip with your lips before taking him in.

William's hand gently guided your hair as you skilfully took him further down, coating his length with your saliva and starting to move your head in a gentle rhythm.

It wasn't exactly the easiest manoeuvre, being your first time giving a blowjob, but having heard about it, read some guidance, and even watched some porn, you surprisingly found yourself easing into it. Your mouth and hand worked in unison, eliciting pants and moans from him above you, boosting your satisfaction in your oral skills.

In that moment, you understood why William enjoyed going down on you so much, as the mere sounds of pleasing him aroused you immensely.

"Shit, baby, you're really good at this," the Swede praised above you, sensing his own impending peak.

And his words spurred you to intensify your actions. However, just as William felt close to climax, he halted you.

"Babe, I'm about to come, but I want to be inside you."

So, following his command, you released your mouth form him, and rose with a confident smile on your lips.

Yet, William, feeling the urge to reassert his dominance, untied his tie and firmly directed you to turn around, clasping your wrists together behind your back.

"So, you think you're in charge now, huh?" he whispered seductively, his voice husky, causing you to gently shake your head. "Didn't think so."

While gently securing the fabric around your wrists, keeping them in place, he then guided you to bend over the table.

And then aligning the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt, he slowly pushed inside, one hand gripping your hip while the other held onto your bound hands, prompting uncontrollable moans to spill from your lips as William established a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of your warmth.

In contrast to your previous encounters, this time the sex was more fervent and forceful, as William's hips slapped against your buttocks, stretching and stimulating your inner walls. And you knew neither of you were going to last long this time.

After an evening of teasing, edging, and oral stimulation, you were both on the brink of your peaks.

And the overwhelming sensation, your hands bound and unable to move, coupled with the incredible pleasure from William's movements, made it hard for you to concentrate on anything else.

"I can't, Willy," you almost whined as you felt your orgasm building. "I'm about to come..."

"Yeah, baby, come for me," William urged roughly, quickening his pace as he too neared his climax.

And so, you did. With a loud, intense moan, you called out his name along with a string of curses, letting your orgasm take control and cloud your mind. With the clenching of your walls around his cock, William followed suit, emitting a deep grunt of pleasure, as he released himself completely.

"Fuck…" he moaned as he emptied the last of his drops into you, before withdrawing slowly as he regained control of his breathing. Then gently, he untied the knot, freeing your hands and assisting you to stand as you returned from your euphoric state of mind.

"That was…" you spoke softly, turning to face William and leaning into his embrace.

"Intense," he added.

"Yeah, intense..." you smiled up at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... and in desperate need of a shower," you chuckled lightly, and William joined in.

"Let's go shower then, I think we both could use it," he suggested, and you agreed, both acknowledging the need for some post-sex clean-up.

[bao3bei4]

ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME: 

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized. 

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post. 

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet 

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read.  i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore! 

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this. 

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say.  okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it.  your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you.  basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO. 

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on. 

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment. 

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion. 

step one: you have some ideas now. 

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas. 

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t. 

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences. 

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION. 

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea. 

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes. 

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things. 

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me.  this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think. 

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet. 

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading. 

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped. 

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated. 

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding. 

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails. 

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment. 

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill. 

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two. 

step two: refine your ideas further. 

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me: 

british women were invested in chinese material objects 

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs 

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights: 

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china 

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom. 

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present? 

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before. 

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too. 

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it. 

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc 

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next. 

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all. 

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it. 

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea— 

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.) 

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post. 

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts. 

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment. 

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse. 

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand. 

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish. 

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger. 

How is any of this possible? 

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least. 

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room. 

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.  

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.  

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.  

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate. 

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?   

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.  

You had made all of this up. 

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day. 

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought. 

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this. 

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.  

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach. 

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.  

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it. 

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.  

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice. 

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly. 

They say you have done great though, so that is something.  

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.  

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.  

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice. 

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?” 

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand? 

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips. 

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate. 

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you. 

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry” 

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice. 

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around 

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”  

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”  

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’. 

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head. 

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel. 

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though. 

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you” 

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year” 

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming. 

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles. 

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?” 

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment. 

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.  

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right? 

Next Chapter

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Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

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