#how am i supposed to interpret that? you sound unsure

[gothamstreetcat]

not to be a c-u-n-t on main, but i am really sick and tired of people inquiring about something i'm selling and when i immediately respond i never hear back at all.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Omae: Complexity of Self-Expression and Intimacy with the Japanese “You”

(Update: I have written a follow-up to this post wherein I exhaustively examine Katsuki's "you" pronoun usage, including every time he uses omae. Please be sure to read both posts! :D)

The anime adaption of chapter 322 is rapidly approaching, so I wanna talk about something really interesting: as far as I can tell, Izuku is the only person Katsuki has ever used the pronoun omae (おまえ) towards in-canon. Furthermore, he has only used omae towards Izuku on three occasions.

The first time is after Deku vs. Kacchan 2 in chapter 120.

The second time is right after his apology in chapter 322. (Katsuki actually uses omae four times in a row in this scene.)

(We'll get to the third time later, just you wait.)

Why does Katsuki address Izuku differently in these scenes? To answer this, we’re gonna commit some language nerdery.

First, let’s be real about the fact that Japanese pronouns can be complicated. There are a ton of them. You learn the common uses—like you could say that, broadly, omae tends to be used by guys for their friends and romantic partners. But the reality is that in a high-context language like Japanese, pronouns can come across wildly differently depending on who uses it, to whom, with what tone, and in what context.

It is difficult to generalize real-life usage, so to be clear, I am talking about MHA as a piece of media. I could try to tell you that omae is rude but also friendly but also condescending but also comedic but also confrontational but also affectionate—and so on, but that wouldn’t help you understand what Katsuki’s omae to Izuku means and why it feels significant.

The thing is, Izuku and Katsuki can each say omae and mean completely different things, because their normal way of speaking tells us how to interpret their words.

When Izuku speaks, he is polite and considerate. He uses the boyish first-person pronoun boku (僕). In Japanese, avoiding second-person pronouns is the polite thing to do; you use the person’s surname and an appropriate suffix instead, and this is the tactic Izuku uses to address others. When he does say “you,” it is usually the familiar kimi (君) towards Katsuki.

We see Izuku use omae in only a few circumstances: he uses it towards himself during inner monologues when he is trying to figure out what to do or compel himself to act, and he uses it when he faces All For One.

Both of these involve what I think of as “tough talk”—Izuku talks tough to himself to push past his fears and be a hero. With AFO, he is talking to a villain, someone he has to defeat. From someone like Izuku who speaks with such politeness and humility, omae reads as aggressive and confrontational.

Katsuki, on the other hand, is always aggressive and confrontational. He uses the masculine, somewhat boastful first-person pronoun ore (俺) and the second-person pronoun temee (てめえ) towards just about everybody. Temee is an extremely rude, combative word; Japanese descriptions usually point out that it reads like fightin’ words—it’s what you’d call an opponent, someone you are confronting, challenging, or belittling. As mentioned, you’re supposed to avoid “you” words to be polite, so the fact that Katsuki whips out temee constantly and makes up insulting nicknames instead of using anybody’s real name is just like, damn, dude!

Unlike Izuku, Katsuki sounds like he is challenging everyone all the time. This means that, coming from him, omae actually seems gentler.

After Deku vs. Kacchan 2, he opens his sentence with omae, and Izuku looks startled by this.

They just had a huge, emotional fistfight, and Katsuki… isn’t addressing him as an opponent, like he always has before. For once, he is addressing Izuku not as his enemy, but his equal.

This scene is the first time Katsuki properly grapples with the truth of their mutual weaknesses and comes to an understanding about it. It leaves him frustrated and unsure, but he walks away seeing himself and Izuku as being on the same side.

Because he takes All Might's words to heart: they are two halves of what makes a hero. They need to learn from each other and push each other to truly reach their best—as rivals, not enemies.

In chapter 322, Katsuki talks Izuku through how he felt about him all these years. He goes over all the things he's had to face to see how wrong he was, to see his own weakness and Izuku's strength. The whole time, he uses the "you" word he always has: temee.

But when it comes time to tell Izuku his true feelings, he calls Izuku by his given name, apologizes, and then right away he says this:

This is a direct call-back to the core question that Katsuki posed to Izuku during Deku vs. Kacchan 2: "Is my way of admiring All Might wrong?"

The second half to that question has always been, implicitly, "Does that mean yours is right?"

Here, Katsuki acknowledges Izuku fully as All Might's successor and affirms that Izuku's path is not wrong, using omae to tell him so. And then he uses it three more times to convince Izuku to come back with them and fight together, "because saving people is how we win."

To me, omae in this scene comes across with such softness. He's speaking with more humility than we've ever seen, both in what he's conveying and his word choice. (There is a whole other conversation to be had about Katsuki's word choice for "I'm sorry," but that is for a different time.)

This omae is not just a sign that he sees Izuku as his equal, it's expressing care for him. Katsuki sacrificed his life for Izuku, telling him, "Stop trying to win this on your own." He is trying so hard to make Izuku understand: Come back, I was wrong. Come back, I care about you.

Which brings us to the third time Katsuki uses omae: chapter 362.

That's right, the infamous "Can I still catch up to you?" / "Can I still reach you?" line uses omae.

Here's the thing that's unique about this omae: it's in Katsuki's head. This is internal monologue; he isn't talking out loud to Izuku, he isn't trying to convey something to him face-to-face, he is just thinking about Izuku.

The word choice isn't for anyone else's benefit or any external purpose: this is just how Katsuki sees him.

I can't overstate how soft, vulnerable, and sincere this moment is for Katsuki. And what gets me about him thinking of Izuku as omae is, it makes me wonder, "How long has he thought of Izuku this way?"

When did Izuku stop being temee in his head?

Changing how you address someone is a big deal in Japanese. Whether it's a name or suffix change (Deku -> Izuku) or a pronoun change (temee -> omae), it represents a significant shift in the emotional dynamics of a relationship.

It crops up a lot in media as a dramatic moment of intimacy, sometimes even being a part of love confessions. This heightened drama is exactly what we see with Katsuki's apology when he calls him Izuku.

Katsuki addresses only Izuku with his given name and omae, and in the whole run of the series, he only uses omae in a few select instances. I would argue that this is really important, subtle character writing.

Looking at the scenes, at least to me, each omae reads as progressively more honest and intimate. Each time Katsuki uses it, he is reaching for Izuku. Each time, it means more.

[sexisdisgusting]

as i was writting i ended up getting a little tmi and wow I actually told you my secrets bc i have never been open about this 😭 so tw // rape, lesbophobia, mysogyny, biphobia maybe? not sure.

hihi! i have a sort of strange question... do you perhaps have any insight about distinguishing between being nervous bc you're scared of men and being nervous bc you're into one 🧍🏻‍♀️?

I've been questioning my sexuality since i got a crush on this woman because the way i feel about her is like stg i never experienced with any man... so i kinda know the answer to that question but i also don't? because i have a hard time interpreting my feelings and im scared im just lying to myself. specially bc i have fantasised about men a lot throughout my life, in an obsessive and harmful way too. it was never about the man in it, it wasn't his body, it was how i could be worth a man's attention if only in my head, i could be the prettiest woman, have my worth. i had to "teach" myself to be ok with dick, bc being het is the normal way, the only way, I've been taught. and i think that contributed to every fantasy being uhm rape, i just couldn't imagine myself being into it bc i know i wouldn't do it, i wouldn't have sex with a man I wouldn't be into it. (🤮🤢 looking back this is all so yuck ew im sorry).

it doesn't help that i have a sort of low libido and am very closed off, so i don't have any experience. i have never been into the male physique (though i certainly tried to), and im pleased with the female physique but it isn't an intense feeling like so many people describe it to be.

so im so confused! is my crush on her the real deal and every other crush i had fake bc i thought it was what a crush was supposed to be ? in the sense that ok im a girl feeling stg for a boy so it MUST be a crush right?! even though i never wanted anything besides friendship... no kissing, no hand holding, no intimacy... but i do want those things with her...

so i get back to my initial question... getting nervous or disgusted or feeling nothing seeing a shirtless man, like specifically shirtless or half naked (ew if his dick is even emphasized through the boxers like im seriously disgusted)... what is the shortness of breath, do you know ?! i feel so stupid asking this but it genuinely makes no sense to me 😭.

specially considering that a lot of het women say they're disgusted by men's bodies? am i just another one, but bisexual?!

feel free to ignore this ! im not even sure you're the right person to ask but you're so sweet answering messages so 🥹🩷 thank you for reading (or not if the tws made u not want to <3)

i am so sorry it took me so long to get back to you, sweetheart! never would i ignore one of my dear anonitas, i love you soooo much

im so sorry about everything youve been through, and thank you so much for entrusting me with your secrets !!!

i dont have much experience with comphet, but i do have experience with performing for the male gaze, and its a truly alienating experience especially when youre unsure if youre even attracted to them, or not

it, like you said for many can become maddening and obsessive at times and can really make you confused as to who you are

i dont want to dictate your sexuality, but it does sound to me that youre more woman-leaning in your attraction, and the male attraction you explain seems to be comphet

i wish i could give you a better answer, but i really do wish nothing but the best for you, my love, and thank you for reaching out to me <3

id be happy if someone could hop in the replies with more experience and help our anonita out!

[hantengus-clones]

Today an image came to my head regarding their respective colors with the Hogwarts houses and honestly, I feel that each one fits like a glove, and while I am explaining (Shows a paper bag) I will place them some scarves inside this bag (winks at them)

Let's start with Sekido, surely you will get angry and insult me ​​for what I do, so excuse me (He takes out a scarf that represents Gryffindor while explaining) Sekido would be a Gryffindor because of his red color, and I think he fits perfectly with you, since this house represents leadership, being that you yourself take the lead with the other clones. It also represents strength, a characteristic to which you aspire a lot ❤️.

(He goes to Karaku, and repeats the same action he did with Sekido, but with a Slytherin scarf) Karaku, you would be a member of the Slytherin house, because of the green color you represent. This house perfectly with you, since like its representative animal; the snake, you attack everywhere and without any compassion, ready to draw poison with your opponents. Also, your mischievous personality is slippery like that animal 💚.

(Goes to Aizetsu, placing the Ravenclaw scarf around his neck) Aizetsu represents blue, just like Ravenclaw house. This house is perfect for you, since blue can symbolize sadness, but not only that feeling, the members of this house stand out for their intelligence and calm, when fighting you show calm and analysis to the enemy, as it does a Ravenclaw casting his magic, plus blue also symbolizes calm 💙.

And finally, to my dear Urogi (begins to gently and elegantly roll up a Hufflepuff scarf) You would come as a member of Hufflepuff house, because you represent the color yellow. Yellow is the representation of joy and jubilation, since you are the representative clone of that emotion, in addition to the fact that in that house, they are usually considered quite cheerful and charismatic, as is your beautiful essence (After finishing with his explanation, looks into his eyes, full of admiration and tenderness) 💛.

Oh, by the way, a few years ago I took my official Hogwarts house test and I'm... (He takes a Hufflepuff scarf out of the bag) Hufflepuff! (She rolls it up with elegance and coquetry in front of Urogi) 🩷.

And good? What do you think of my opinion regarding which Hogwarts house each one would belong to just by relating them to their representative color? Opinions and criticisms are accepted 😉.

(Raises an eyebrow, looking at the person with a mix of confusion and annoyance, scoffing dismissively.)

Gryffindor? What in the world are you blabbering about? Some childish house from a fantasy world has absolutely no relevance in the real world. I have no interest in playing some doll house or whatever the hell is this what you just said.

(Throws the scarf away.)

(Laughs playfully, accepting the Slytherin scarf in contrast to Sekido.)

Well, well, well, looks like I'm being sorted into Ssssss~lytherin, huh?~ Gotta admit, it's got the best color going for it!~ Alright, I'll embrace my inner Slytherin for now. Sounds cool enough, kyah, don't worry about Sekido's reaction though!

(Picks up the Gryffindor scarf and wraps it around Sekido's neck.)

He is just confused.~

(Looks down at the Ravenclaw scarf around his neck, a hint of confusion on his face.)

Ravenclaw… Blue... intelligence... calm...

(He trails off, unsure of how to respond, before awkwardly nodding and looking at you)

Well, I can't deny that I appreciate those traits... And yes, blue does carry the connotation of calmness... and other emotions as well… I suppose there might be a connection there, in a… way. It's an interesting interpretation, I must say.

(Aizetsu gives a small, wobbly smile, trying his best to play along with your description, despite his awkwardness.)

(Urogi chuckles delight as the Hufflepuff scarf is placed around his neck, he stands still just for a brief moment so you could wrap it.)

Hufflepuff, hmm?~ Yellow for joy and jubilation, you say you say? It sounds familiar!

(Urogi's face lights up with a beaming smile, radiating happiness.)

Well, if being cheerful and charismatic is the part of the game, then I think I would fit well!

(He strikes a playful pose, twirling the Hufflepuff scarf around his arm like a ribbon.)

Joy is my name, after all!

(When you announce being a Hufflepuff too, Urogis face lights up.)

Of course you are! The best of the bestest color! And house! Let's kick some asses together! 

[selkieniamh]

Any Way the Wind Blows

Date: November 21, 2022 Time: 6:30 P.M.

Niamh wakes on a train. 

A man is standing in front of her, speaking to her in a language she doesn’t understand. It sounds alien, composed of noises the human tongue should be incapable of producing. She lurches forward, scaring the living daylights out of him. Where is she? Her neck aches, and her coat feels heavy, as if it was lined with rocks. She peers through the window into an unfamiliar station. 

"Miss..." 

As her tired and tea-soaked brain boots up, she realizes she does understand the language he's speaking. "We've reached the end of the line. The train terminates here. It all ends here.”

It all ends here? She looks up at him dumbly, unsure if he really said what she thinks he said or if her translation was wrong. He interprets her perplexed expression to mean she doesn’t speak Korean. "Uh... train comes to stop. Here." He tries in English.

Niamh gets to her feet like a zombie, eyes bleary and face burning red. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," she says in rapid Korean. Her mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls. "Thank you. I am sorry." She rushes past the conductor, stumbling down the platform steps to the concourse. She looks up at the entrance sign. Her heart jumps to her throat. 

“Yeoju?!” She'd slept through what was supposed to be a simple one-stop train ride and ended up in Gyeonggi. The end of the line. It all ends here. She digs through her bag for her phone: dead. Lingering in the crowded concourse, she scans the passing people for a kind face, eventually landing on a middle-aged woman in a skirt suit and sneakers. "Excuse me," she says in Korean. "What is the time?”

The woman looks at her watch. "Half past six."

Niamh's heart drops to her stomach. "Thank you." 

She was late for work. Super late. How did this happen? Sure, she hadn't slept in the last few days, but she'd upped her caffeine intake by drinking cup after cup of the strong Irish tea her Mam had shipped to her from Dunfanaghy. But it wasn't just that. The timeline was wrong. She'd boarded the train at one, and even if she'd ridden the entire route twice, it shouldn't have taken five hours. What happened to all that lost time?

Niamh's airway constricts like a snake had wound around her throat. She moves stiffly to the wall, trying to recall how to breathe. She was just late for work. That’s all. It happens. But her brain was catastrophizing, and her heart was slamming against her ribs, threatening to crack them. She leans against the hard concrete, pressing her fists into her eye sockets until she saw stars. I’m losing it, she thinks. 

A chilled gust rushes through her, even though it was a mild day. Despite the fact that she was still inside the station. It startles her out of her panic long enough to notice a message written in bold purple paint on the opposite wall. 

T U R N   A R O U N D

She turns. A door is behind her. She nearly chokes on her own spit. “What in the bleedin’ fuck?” She doesn't remember seeing a door there, and moreover, it doesn’t look like any kind of door you'd find in a train station. It is tall and old. The wood is carved with intricate and beautiful etchings. It seems to be a wild botanical design, but as she looks closer, she notices eyes. Thousands upon thousands of carved eyes. The shiny golden knob also contains an eye talisman, gazing at her expectantly. Watching. Waiting.

Open the door. The thought comes before she can make sense of it. Her hand shakes as it reaches for the knob. 

The first thing she notes is the change of lighting. What was once harsh fluorescents was now shaded lamps, soft yellowish oranges like summer sunflowers and St Lucian sunsets. The walls are an astonishing purple, the color of deoxygenated blood. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. 

Only a foot or two away, standing on a huge Turkish rug, a tall man in an emerald suit smiles at her.

“Hello, Niamh Ó Murchadha,” says Kang. His pronunciation is perfect.  

She staggers back, gazing up at him in frightened amazement. “How—”

“Magic.” A fruity flourish of his hand. 

“But how did you know—”

“Remember that business card I gave you?”

Niamh plunges a hand into her bag, extracting her wallet, and digs around in it until she finds Kang's business card. It was blank again, just like when he gave it to her, but when she flips it over, there is an eye staring up at her.

“Can you read my mind?” She blurts out. 

“No,” he laughs. “I cannot read your mind.” 

“Oh.”

“It’s lovely to see you again,” he says, gesturing around him. “Welcome to my hotel.” 

She looks around. The room they were in was without a doubt grand, with giant bookshelves and glass cases filled with tomes and trinkets. It didn't strike her as an obvious feature of a hotel. 

"Well, welcome to my office," he says, "though I would love to give you a full tour, if you have the time."

Once her astonishment passes, she glares at him. “Why am I here?” 

He laughs once more. "Would you rather be having a panic attack in the middle of Yeoju Station instead?"

“Maybe,” she says under her breath. This only widens his smile.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you had given my offer any thought."

“You couldn’t just call me or something?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Your phone is dead.”

“I have a job, remember,” she reminds him.

"I do remember, and I'm quite certain you were supposed to be at said job about..." he checks his watch, "four hours ago."

She cringes. 

He raises his palms in a sign of peace. “Look, I did not mean for this to be an ambush. I saw that you were in trouble, and I wanted to help. That is all.”

Her hard expression doesn’t ease up. “So you’ve been spying on me?”

"I wouldn't call it spying," he says, "keeping an eye out. I care about you."

“Why?” The word contorts Niamh’s mouth. “You don’t even know me.”

"But I'd like to, if you would allow me the pleasure."

She's not sure what to make of him. He was strange, but he hadn't harmed her. It was difficult to figure out what he was up to or what his true intentions were. Her Mam had always said that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was, and everything Kang presented was more than good. It was magnificent. It would completely transform her life. Her thoughts are interrupted by a loud grumble, her belly announcing its hollowness like a passing thunderclap.

"I'm having flashbacks to our first meeting," Kang muses. "How's this: stay at the hotel for the night. Free of charge. Have a meal, a hot shower, a good night's rest, and then we'll talk in the morning. If you decide you don't want anything to do with me or my hotel, I won't ever bother you again. I'll even call that quaint cafe where you work and explain that you had an unavoidable emergency and that is why you were unable to make it to work tonight. What do you say?"

Too good to be true. But, by God, she was tired. She was hungry. 

"Okay," she mumbles. "I'll stay at your feckin' hotel..."

His grin is incandescent. “Wonderful. Now, let me show you to your room.”

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Ocean Suite, that’s what he called it. 

Of course, she thinks, of course that's the room he gives me. He's obviously trying to butter her up, win her over. But when she steps inside, she finds it hard to be mad.

The walls are a distinct shade of blue that she instantly recognizes. It is the cool azure that could only be seen while underwater and looking up. Within her, sentimentality sings. How many times had she laid on a bed of algae, daydreaming as she marveled up at this exact color? 

"The interior designer was a mermaid," Kang hummed, clearly proud. “Washroom’s over there. There are complimentary pajamas in the wardrobe. We’ll launder your clothes and return them to you in the morning.”

If she had thought the bedroom was lovely, the claw foot tub and luxury soap set nearly brings her to tears. The tub is large enough that she could fully immerse herself without having to bunch her legs up. 

While she dries off with Pima cotton towels and changes into the provided pajamas (deep purple satin set with mother-of-pearl buttons and the hotel's insignia hand-stitched on the breast), a meal had been laid out on the table in the main room. She gawks at the loaded plates and shiny cutlery. She hadn’t even heard anyone come in. 

She eats the three-course meal with embarrassing zeal. And she's well satisfied by the end of it, licking the plates clean. She pauses, realizing she hasn't felt this way in months. The sheer comfort of fullness actually moves her to tears. 

It’s strange: she hasn’t slept in a few days and was expecting yet another night of insomnia. But as she slips into the king-sized bed, her eyelids grow heavy. The sheets are smooth silk and pale green like seaweed. The pillows are firm but plush, the fabric cool against her cheek. 

A cluster of clear crystals dangles above her head like a baby mobile. She reaches up and touches the shards, watching them swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She falls asleep, dreaming of the strong arms of a vampire she knows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"This is where you would perform."

The salon is a fusion of old Hollywood decadence and fantasy garden blooms. Millions of brightly colored paper cranes roost across the ceiling. Under the dulcet theater lights, their delicate origami wings flutter. The forest-green filigreed carpet is plush beneath her feet. Her mouth hangs agape.

"Heavenly, isn’t it?" Kang says as he leads her deeper inside. “You'd be my sole chanteuse. You'd perform every night, Monday through Friday, and occasionally for special events. However, your days and weekends are yours to do with whatever you’d like."

Niamh’s brow furrows. “You haven’t even heard me sing.”

"I don't need to," Kang winks, "I already know you're a one-of-a-kind talent."

“I don’t like that you seem to know so much about me, and I know nothing about you.”

"There will be plenty of time in the future for you to get to know me," he says, approaching a set of star-strewn velvet curtains. They part with a dramatic movement of Kang’s hand. The massive stage, designed to resemble an open birdcage, is somehow supported by an understructure of gold delphinium stocks. A colossal harp and a white grand piano grace the stage top. Plump purple flowers and a tangle of verdant vines cascade over open-topped cloches, emitting an enticing floral aroma. “What do you think?"

Niamh's expression softens. "It's perfect."

"Almost," he corrects, "it will be truly perfect when you are up there."

Distrust claws at her chest. “It all seems too good to be true...” Earlier, in the private confines of his office, Kang broke down her proposed payment and her eyes had nearly popped out of her skull. A week as his chanteuse would pay her more than four months at the Oak & Ivory. And she would be doing something she loved. 

"I know," Kang says, his voice soothing. "But that's the whole point of this place. It's why I created it." He walks over to her. "I got sick of how miserable life was and how we were all just supposed to get used to it. I refused to take part in such a bleak ideology. Existence should be enchanting. Magical. I've made it my life's mission to create a space of pure childlike joy, to remind myself and everyone who enters the Paramount that the world is a wonderful place. And you happen to be part of that vision. I know it may appear that I am doing you a big favor, but I assure you that it is the opposite. This is not charity. This offer comes with no strings attached, no indentured servitude, no blood contracts. You are free to leave at any time. You owe me nothing beyond the standard expectations of the job."

Kang’s cologne envelops her, a warm musk that reminds her of her father. Most embarrassingly, Niamh finds her eyes pricking with tears. 

He pulls her into a hug. “There, there, little songbird. I'm sorry the world has been so unkind to you. Let me take you under my wing. Let me protect you from the storm."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she relaxes into his embrace. She feels like a very young child, but not in a bad way. She'd been a runaway since her arrival in Korea. A hungry girl no stranger to aching hearts and harsh weather. And for a long time, it seemed like there was nothing she could do. No way to win. 

"Yes," Niamh finally says. “I’ll do it. I'll sing for you."

[dog-bonezzzz]

PART TWO OF THAT THING OH LORD

What am I doing with my life. Honestly I'm getting a bit confused on what I was saying earlier, so if any of you understood it I'd be amazed. As you can see this was more of a loose connection and me throwing things out there, so don't go thinking I believe this is 100% canon (or canon at all) because I'm just a little guy and I have little guy thoughts. (ALSO PLEASE READ THE REPLIES ON THE LAST POST). There is a theme of Toy Chica taking away the things the...crushes like, or value the most for attention. To the point of well, pretty sure burning their goddamn house down? Hello there ma'am? That's not very nice. Almost everything she does paints her as a savior, someone to trust and go to. Huh, I wonder who else does this to someone they may be obsessed with (possibly even in love with HEY HEY HI WILLRY SHIPPERS HEY HI) with the need for their undivided attention. Now, a lot of people have also interpreted part of this cutscene as representing the way William killed the missing kids, which, I agree, that makes sense I suppose? Could it be a double meaning? Could these two things go hand in hand and side by side possibly? Where it references different things in different ways, we all know Scott is a bit- messy with things. FNAF 6 was especially messy with some parts of it's lore (Hey did I tell anybody I think I solved part of candy cadet?? yeah I think I did, fuck yeah!! Hopefully when I post THAT tidbit it's less mind bending and senseless, because it actually make sense, LIKE MAKES SENSE and isn't plain terrifying to think about) bbbbut seriously, what if it DOES reference both? The part referencing...lovers (help/nsrs) WOULD be a bit awkward if William is only referencing the missing children, it's giving lady fiszi and pinky pills /ref (/neg) . If there's also stuff referencing Henry it would be more- fathomable. Now, I admit I have not deciphered FNAF 6 and post-FNAF 6's obsession with collecting parts of things (or people) to put them together, but I am working on it. That is where I face how I do not know how to make sense of the way Chica collects pieces of her crushes. Now, talking about candy cadet and how those stories also reference Henry in a somewhat similar context, these stories also contain the theme of collecting parts of something broken and bringing them all together, my initial idea was that this is in reference to all of the people brought together in FNAF 6, especially the Founding family* and how they were rejoined as "one" though I am unsure (please tell me your thoughts?). This becomes somewhat more confusing when we see how in UCN toy Chica (the character representing William) is the one collecting, and not someone representing Henry like in FNAF 6. Though, this could be more split meanings, and could be an input of Henry's mind. It's all rather complicated. *I call the Afton + Emily family combined this. SO LOVELIES, that's honestly I can get together for this part right now, I'll be going on some more but I'll be talking about the actual willry part of this on a separate post for reasons. All of this multipart theory/ramble is going to be under the "mond explains weird toy chica thing." tag and is very much so available so you can read all of it together. Hope I don't sound too deranged from this haha.

[magic-mouse-blues]

🎈 is finally upholding its end of the conversation again. everyone rejoice [cue: crickets]

anyways, to recall our prior conversation: i suppose you’re right; ‘pragmatic’ isn’t quite the apt descriptor, either. both of you seemed to have your head up in the stars as you pursued your dreams of stardom. the way i’m interpreting it, it sounds as though perhaps you were more in tune with the world around you, since you seem to have so desired to sway it via both your performance and your control? my tsukasa-kun was in his own head a lot, putting more of his energy into improving his own acting rather than studying the climate around him. i get the impression that you might have differed there—but again, i can’t speak as though i’ve been inside either of your heads. that’s your distinction to make. consider it my own effort to understand you more… :3c it’s good of you to be reconsidering your controlling tendencies to make space for the other party’s wellbeing! i always admire steps towards kindness & healthy practices, and i applaud your efforts.

be careful with your words, jester-kun. if you tell me to ramble, i’m not sure i’ll ever stop typing… :33 but, of course, i am glad to hear that you find some enjoyment in it. i’d absolutely leave you alone if you ever wished it, though i’m getting the impression that that’d be rather out of character for you, hm? ><

‘millions of miles’ might be a bit of a stretch, unless you’ve got friends on other planets—in which case i insist you introduce me. i’ve always been fascinated by space… mostly because i find it so beautiful, but to speak with an alien lifeform would certainly be an opportunity like no other, fufu. jokes aside, it’s nice to hear that you know how lucky you are. it’s always noble to strive to make other people happy—that’s something i quite admire about tsukasa-kun. i wish you luck on your grand quest to repay your faraway companions for their affections.

i’m not sure i ought to acknowledge that nod to your past, judging by the tone it carried… but if you find yourself wanting to vent, i’m all ears. i hope you feel more at ease now.

kinsidering is quite the adventure, isn’t it? personally, i feel quite a pull to dark lily rui… and an extra smidge of connection with sorcerer rui, which i’m much less proud of, considering the way i’ve pieced together that life. i’m still quite unsure of both. though i must say, you’ve got me curious about your other tsukasa-kun experiences… if you ever get around to exploring those further, i’d be quite interested in hearing what you uncover! :3

and, yes, cinnamon was the most prominent. i’m sure there were others mixed in, but i’m no chef, so i’d be at a loss to discern them. it just always seemed like he had stepped right out of the kitchen—a homey sort of smell, if i do say so myself. (if you’re curious, emu-kun also carried an indescribably warm scent. nene leaned towards fresh, like laundry & summertime, and mildly floral.)

i can certainly relate with not fitting in with crowds, though in my case, i’m not sure i’d attribute it to starlike tendencies… fufu. i find myself simultaneously most at ease & yet most uncomfortable with people older than me. younger people can be so terribly judgemental—that’s part of what’s kept me from engaging with fellow kin for so long, though this community seems like it’ll be far warmer & more accepting than the war-ridden wastelands of twitter dot com from whence i hail. fufu… i’ve never looked into song kin! what an interesting concept. i went and gave gardenia a listen, and i must say, i was utterly enthralled by it. what a sound! the visuals, of course, were just as striking. i’m not very familiar with the genre, but this may just have been a gateway drug. if you have similar recommendations, i’d be happy to receive them. when it comes to kin tropes, i personally have noticed a tendency towards mad scientists & other Nerds… though i’m not kin with particularly many characters, and the heavy rui shift i’ve found myself in for the past year makes them feel less than relevant.

i wouldn’t brag about my theatrical gift if it weren’t worth bragging about. it’s practically the thing that gives my life purpose, so i don’t feel too guilty tooting my own horn just this once… perhaps it’s in part due to the juxtaposition with my usual manner, but i’ve heard from many an audience member that i come alive and shine on stage, and i can’t help but take such comments to heart. i’m sure you can relate to the feeling, as a tsukasa-kun, yourself… fufu. and i don’t doubt that you shine with all of the light in the house! i’ll be in the wings in spirit, cheering you on~

like i said before, your answers are always more than satisfactory. engaging with you is a delight! you’re quite fascinating, you know? i’ll be looking forward to being granted even more insight as to what goes on in that silly head of yours. in other words, i eagerly await your reply.

— 🎈

CLAPS SO LOUDLY I BURST THE MULTIPLE EARDRUMS ON THE CRICKET’S BODY

Methinks younger me wants to polish up on his skills first, before using it to effectively captivate his audience. Though that could just be me. He found how his feelings sprouted in the first place. Me? I went with what my heart desired and ultimately went astray… I wonder what he’d think of me, perhaps as some monster…

I never thought you’d take my hyperbole serious, Rui-kyun!! But then again, you were always a jokester, a snarky snake, who am I to judge? It was no less amusing though, teehee!! ☆

Speaking of which, by golly! I am kinsidering a few more members of wondershow… That being you (Showtime Ruler) and Emu (Once Upon A Dream)… Not to mention a more divine version of her. I realise whenever I kin the jumpy energetic ones, I always end up being the more muted version of them, hm…

I wonder what other memories you have of little me, it’s always a pleasure to hear! Also, a homey feel? WHAT IS THIS FAMILY MAN TOMFOOLERY /j

It’s bonkers how I’m a family man in your canon. Like huh?? What???

Songkin aside, indeed! Gardenia is such an amazing song! A memory was unlocked recently when I listened to Baroque (same artist by the way). My fur originally wasn’t white, and I was cursed to that silent realm because I killed someone.

(Kinning criminals is so fun /s)

Do I truly shine on stage? Why, it’s literally in my soul!! I’m just THAT talented!! I do not doubt your ability though. Rui-kun might have been a director, but directors must have a good acting ability to know how a scene should play out~! I’d love to know more about your theatre exploits sometime!!

A shorter reply than usual, I hope you don’t mind. But I hope to hear from you again! Until next time, Rui-kyun~!! ☆

[casspurrjoybell-25]

The Healer of Shakkara - Book Two

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 8 - Visions - Part 2

In the week since he'd started working with Korim, Zenír had grown fond of the eccentric old man.

Korim spoke and read almost every living language in Sakkara and suspected that The Dweller tongue would share some similarities with one or more of them, if they could just crack the alphabet.

This was where Zenír came in.

Every time he ran his fingertips over the strange, indented markings, he felt he came a little closer to deciphering their meaning.

Markings became letters, letters became words and words grew into phrases.

He had 'mapped' a small section of wall like this and now Korim endeavored to discover some link between the patterns and a known tongue.

"Ve are so close," Korim exclaimed that afternoon, slamming a fist onto the worktable in his study and starting Zenír.

"I can feel it in my creaky old bones," Zenír had asked Iksthanis to describe the old man to him and Iksthanis had complied, describing Korim as energetic despite his years, with a healthy shine to his dark skin and eyes that sparkled like sapphires in a wizened face.

He had wiry white hair, like a bristle bush and a long, somewhat scraggly beard to match.

"I agree, Master," Zenír said, bowing his head.

He saw Korim as a mentor and the old man did not object and liked the title.

"It's like having a word on the tip of my tongue that I cannot quite recall."

"Maddening," Korim agreed, his reedy voice fraught with passion and Zenír smiled.

As fascinated as he was by their work, Korim seemed truly to live for it.

Some time passed in silence before Korim spoke again and Zenír had become so absorbed in his work that he startled when the other man's voice broke the silence.

"I have heard you have ze gift of second sight," Korim said, almost offhandedly.

Zenír hesitated, unsure what had prompted the comment.

"To a degree," he said. "I am no soothsayer."

He heard Korim's chair scrape the stone floor as he got up and came to where Zenír stood by the wall.

"I am not interested in sootsayings. I am interested in meanings. How does it work, your gift?"

"Sometimes, if I meditate and focus my mind, I may experience a vision. Sometimes just a feeling or a taste or a smell," Zenír murmured.

"And sometimes... I dream."

"Ah. So, you must interpret zese things?" Korim asked.

Zenír smiled.

"Yes. It is rarely so plain as 'beware of spiders next Thursday' or anything so straightforward."

"Well, zat is good. Yes, very good," Korim murmured.

"What are you thinking, Master?" Zenír asked, smiling at the barely suppressed eagerness in the old man's voice.

He waited and listened as Korim came around the work table and joined him by the wall of The Dweller carvings.

"You say zat you can 'sense' ze meaning of ze words but wis no knowledge of what sounds ze symbols represent, zat is impossible."

Zenír frowned but nodded.

"So it would seem."

"So, I cannot help but wonder if it is your gift zat conveys zis 'sense' to you and what might happen if you make a conscious effort."

Zenír frowned thoughtfully.

"I have never tried to use my gift in such a way but I suppose it would not hurt to try. Shall I try now?"

"Would you?" Korim asked, sounding as excited as a child teased with the possibility of opening a present before the appointed hour.

"What do you need? Candles? Incense?"

"Just a bit of quiet," Zenír said and smiled.

"Ah. Then quiet you shall have. I will stop talking."

Suppressing a smile, Zenír settled into a meditative state, slowing and deepening his breath and relaxing his body as he moved his awareness from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head and back again.

His mind grew still.

Thoughts came and went like passing clouds but the canvas of his mind remained blank, ready to receive whatever came to him.

With a sense of peace permeating his whole being, he inhaled deeply, released his breath, set his fingers to the rough stone of the wall and ran them lightly over the now familiar engravings.

Zenír grinned.

He could see... as if the symbols each made an image that played out in his mind like the storyline of a dream, as he passed his hand along the wall, it came to life.

Then, as suddenly and unexpectedly as a bolt of lightning, the images came too fast and too many and with a sudden flash of purest white he knew no more.

[caniasfire]

The silence that came after the question terrified him. The seconds were stretched to feel like hours, his mind torturing as it overwhelmed him with thoughts of what was going to happen next. One worst case scenario after the other. He wasn't sure if Astarion looked angry or not, he could just be hiding it after all, and in Amay's mind there was no reason for the vampire to not get up and leave, or stay and continue. But then he apologized, and his voice is not what he had been expecting ot hear. He listened with the utmost attention to every single word, as if his fate was about to be decided. I'm not used to someone not expecting… Amay waited patiently for a continuation that never came. Was it a bad thing that he wasn't just following the other's lead? Or was it a good thing that he had spoken out, as weak as it had been?

“No, no.” He rushed. “You're not fuckin’ this up.” If anything, Amay felt like he was the one fucking things up. “I am flattered that you want to keep goin’. . . I just. . .” He looked down, unsure as to how to proceed. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't sure what he said either to bring this about, but maybe he just had to try to be more direct. Maybe saying he'd do whatever the other needs had been interpreted in a way he didn't intend. And in the heat of the moment he had told him that he was his . . . He clenched his jaw, worried now that he had indeed ruined the moment by giving himself away like that, worried that it hadn't meant to Astarion as much as it did to him. Worried that what it meant to Astarion wasnt the same as what it meant to him.

Amay sat up, placing a hand on one of Astarion's knees. The way he reached for him was not as sure as it was before, as he could still feel the remnants of fear swirling inside him, but he tried for his touch to be as light as possible. Maybe reassuring the other would calm him down too. 

“I was just thinkin’ we could do that another day. It's not that I don't want to, I mean, I–” Did he really not want to? Why would being tired be an excuse? Was he not curious? Did his heart not skip a beat at the thought of Astarion wanting to taste him? And he could just go back to cuddling after Astarion was done. Why was he turning him down? “I just… I had been hopin’ for a while to get to lie down with you like this.” Every time he woke up naked and alone it felt the same way as the last, the hurt never really diminished, so to have Astarion lie him down and stay by his side felt like a dream come true. He hated the thought of just getting together for sex and then parting ways, and tonight felt . . . different. Special. For one, in a way he was the one to initiate it, not Astarion, and he felt cared for. Like it was more than just using him for the other's own pleasure. 

But maybe it was too good to be true. He felt a wave of embarrassment crash through him as he realized what he just admitted to, and he rushed to correct himself. “If you're not into that we don't have to do it, though. I thought that was the case, either way. If you want to have sex again we can do that.” He spoke in an almost robotic manner, the monotone of his voice contrasting to just how full of feeling they had been earlier. He could barely control that, but he made an effort to sound natural so he could reassure the other.

The yellow in his eyes dimmed for a brief second. Afraid Astarion might not see the point of staying here with him anymore, he grabbed one of Astarion's hands and placed it back on one of his breasts. It's almost like he had signed himself off in yet another contract. He couldn't just go back on the things he had said and expect there wouldn't be consequences and, again, the last thing he wanted was to disappoint. A debtor couldn't go back on his word. There are worse outcomes, he thought.

As soon as Amay tenses beneath him, Astarion feels a shift in the air, a subtle but unmistakable change that cuts through the haze of forced desire and pulls him back into the present. His lips still against Amay’s skin, his hands freezing in place as the weight of Amay’s discomfort presses down on him. He can feel the shift, the way Amay’s body stiffens instead of softening beneath his touch, and something cold coils in Astarion’s gut—a sensation too familiar, too suffocating. The thought races through his mind as he pulls back slightly, his lips hovering just above Amay’s skin as he tries to make sense of what’s happening. His heart begins to race, but not from excitement. It’s panic, gnawing at the edges of his carefully crafted composure, threatening to undo him completely. He’s been here before, too many times, in too many ways. The moments when he isn’t truly there, when the connection slips through his fingers like sand, leaving him grasping at nothing but hollow pleasure. But this isn’t some random victim. This is Amay.

Astarion lifts his head slowly, his breath shallow, trying to steady the rapid thrum of anxiety building in his chest. He hears Amay’s voice, soft and uncertain, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing, and the question—the simple, heartbreaking question—slices through him like a dagger. You don’t want to cuddle? It’s so disarmingly vulnerable, that for a moment Astarion doesn’t know how to respond. His mind stumbles, tripping over the words he wants to say but can’t quite grasp. He can sense Amay’s heartbeat, the way it drums rapidly beneath his skin, not with the excitement of their earlier moments but with something darker, something far too close to fear. He can practically smell it in the air. Astarion’s stomach twists at the realization, and a cold sweat prickles at the back of his neck.

He sits back on his heels, letting his hands fall away from Amay’s body, and for a brief, horrible moment, he wonders if Amay can see the mess of emotions swirling behind his crimson eyes. The fear, the guilt, the shame. His lips part to speak, but the words feel heavy, leaden with the weight of his own confusion and self-loathing. ❛ I’m sorry…❜ Astarion’s voice falters, and the apology feels clumsy and inadequate, but it’s all he can offer in that moment. His hands hover awkwardly in the space between them, as if unsure whether to reach out and pull Amay close or retreat altogether. ❛ If I… did something wrong, I—❜ He swallows, his throat tight. Pathetic, he thinks, the self-recrimination sharp and biting. You sound pathetic. He forces himself to meet Amay’s gaze, and it nearly undoes him—the uncertainty in the tiefling’s eyes, the fragile hope, and beneath it all, the fear that Astarion has felt so many times before, reflected back at him like a mirror. Except this time, it’s different. This time, it matters.

❛ I’m not used to someone…❜ He trails off, searching for the right words but finding none that fit. How does he explain the years of conditioning, the way he’s learned to equate intimacy with something purely physical? The way he’s spent centuries giving and taking, but never like this. Never with tenderness. Never with the desire for more than just another body pressed against his own. ❛ I’m not used to someone not expecting…❜ He gestures vaguely between them, feeling the inadequacy of the motion, but the words escape him before he can properly articulate the thought.

Astarion lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his tousled silver hair. His fingers tremble slightly, and he clenches them into a fist, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want Amay to see him like this——unsure, unraveling at the edges, weak. Gods, how he wishes he knew how to do this right. ❛ Bloody hells, I’m fucking this up entirely, aren’t I? ❜ The breath of a laugh that follows is hollow, laced with bitter self-awareness. He drops his face into his hands, hiding from Amay’s gaze, from the weight of his own failure. The mask he wears so carefully is crumbling, and there’s no charm, no sharp wit, no sultry smile to hide behind now.

The silence between them stretches, and for once, Astarion doesn’t know how to fill it. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to go back to the easy flirtation and the seductive banter that comes so naturally to him. Because that’s not what this is. That’s not what Amay wants. And if Astarion’s being honest with himself—if he dares to let the truth in, just for a moment—it’s not what he wants, either.

[synthy-sizer]

You turn back to your desk, once again opening your instant messenger. The ANGEL's strange chat logs are still open, but that isn't the only thing that catches your eye. Your FRIEND's messages are still unanswered from God knows how long ago. They probably deserve an answer as to what has been going on.

Talk to friend>

[Apotheosis91 is ONLINE]

Apotheosis91: Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t been on in a while

Apotheosis91: I actually don’t even know how long it’s been

Apotheosis91: Listen though, something amazing happened

Apotheosis91: An angel is in my room right now and it’s connected to everything in my room, it’s promising me that with its help we can actually find Eden

Apotheosis91: I’m still searching for hints, but I think the angel can help, and maybe that means we can both make it back to Eden

Apotheosis91: Hopefully you’re online again soon because this is huge

Apotheosis91: Back to it now though, I’ll talk to you again soon

[Apotheosis91 is OFFLINE]

You sigh and lean back in your desk chair. Although the update was necessary, the social interaction was still frustrating and tiring. But at least the weight is off your chest now, and you can focus on the more important conversation.

Talk to angel>

[App00thheeeeee is ON99dkkIINENE]

4poth91911: Hello? Are you there?

9000s0mmmmm: INDEED I AM, WORTHY ONE. WHAT WILL YOU ASK OF ME?

Ap3pp33mm: I’m unsure of where to look for clues, I can read the passage but I don’t know how to interpret that into a URLI can use.

OpDKMFMMM…\: WORRY NOT WORTHY ONE, ALTHOUGH I CANNOT PROVIDE YOU WITH DIRECT ANSWERS, I CAN GUIDE YOU ON THE CORRECT PATH. SIMPLY SEARCH WHERE YOU FEEL YOUR SOUL GUIDING YOU.

A99ik…-ppp: Alright, I’ll do my best. But I also have other questions.

8oooKIIIIIo: SIMPLY ASK WHATEVER YOU WISH OF ME

Amkkkkpp009919: I tried to speak to you earlier, but your body seemed completely unresponsive, but you talk to me just fine on here. Why is that?

Kkkrku22,,,: IT IS TRUE THAT THE FLESH IS MY BODY, YES, BUT MY ESSENCE EXISTS BEYOND ITS BOUNDS. BY CONNECTING TO YOUR INTERFACE, I HAVE EXTENDED MYSELF.

Aootppppret1199991: So you can see and hear me through my electronics?

99dkkk.,,,welol: INDEED. ALTHOUGH THE PRESENCE OF THEM IS AGAINST THE NATURE OF HEAVEN, BY USING IT AS A MEDIUM IT IS COMPATIBLE WITH MY SOUL.

002jiiiii2m2mm2m: IN ADDITION, THE MINDS OF MORTAL HUMANS CANNOT COMPREHEND THE ESSENCE OF AN ANGEL, WERE I TO USE MY TRUE VOICE YOU WOULD SUFFER GREATLY.

A00eppppp2p2p99911: Yeah, I wasn’t able to stay conscious when you appeared in your true form.

99(JJDJDMM: YOU ARE LUCKY TO HAVE DEVELOPED SUCH A ROBUST INTERFACE, IT GRANTS ME EASE IN COMMUNICATION AND ASSISTANCE.

00d90i;;/…: APOLLO COMPUTERS ARE ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT TO THIS PROCESS.

28hb’[‘[;kkk: BUT ENOUGH IDLE TALK, YOU MUST CONTINUE TO SEEK OUT EDEN. BY CONNECTING TO YOUR INTERFACE I HAVE AWAKENED ITS FULL POTENTIAL, AND MADE THINGS OUT OF REACH TO YOU ACCESSIBLE. RETURN TO PREVIOUS METHODS.

[../338nnnnmmll is O8rj.fflll/l/]

The angel hasn’t provided you with many direct answers, but you suppose that is the way with holy beings. As the guidebook says, God’s plan works in mysterious ways. At least it has provided some direction. Armed with the knowledge of Genesis, you can now seek answers through your equipment. You can search the INTERNET, use your RADIO, or tune for frequencies on your TELEVISIONS. And moreover, you feel as though perhaps you can finally understand the contents of your CASSETTES properly.

Use radio>

You once again place the headphones of your radio receiver on and confidently turn the device on, tuning frequencies. You are once again greeted by a blend of static and faint voices and music from an endless array of broadcasts, but you’re more than familiar with what you’re looking for. Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, a particularly clear signal comes through. It doesn’t sound like much at first, just white noise, but you notice the unmistakable sound of wind, and the rustling of trees. You can even make out the sound of crashing waves. It’s a soundscape that would otherwise be mundane, but to you it somehow sounds significant. You wonder why.

Use televisions>

You stand up from your desk, walking carefully across the many cables covering the floor, and make your way to your primary receiver. Adjusting the frequency, you watch as the static morphs and bends, and faint views of various broadcasts flicker in and out. But much like the radio, something comes through. A clear image, so clear it feels as though the television screen is just a window, you can see the view of a field. There’s tall, lush grass, a single tree on a hill to the right, and a noticeable stone covered in moss to the left. The entire view is ethereal, but peaceful. You catch yourself touching the screen, as if trying to reach into the field, but only find glass. And just like the radio, you can hear the crashing of waves. You feel certain now more than ever that this is significant, although you can’t figure out how.

Use cassettes>

You walk back across the room, leaning over and opening your bedside table once more, looking at your cassettes. Of course, how could you have been so blind? An angel has been trying to help you this entire time. Clearly, when you cannot understand the clues you’ve found, you should listen to what it has been telling you the entire time. All you have to do is pick up your CASSETTE PLAYER and CASSETTES and LISTEN.

Take cassette player>

You pick up the Marantz in one hand.

[Retrieved CASSETTE PLAYER]

Pick up cassettes>

You grab a stack of tapes in your other hand.

[Retrieved CASSETTE TAPES]

Listen>

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[moonlit-reveriee]

Hi there luv! Hoping you're doing good! . I'd just like to drop by n ask... do you do requests for techno au characters? Coz if so,can I request a sir billiam x reader please? Preferably she/her pronouns thank you <3

Akin to Royalty

sir billiam x fem!reader

this is my first time writing for sir billiam (and i ended up writing a lot more than i expected) so i hope you enjoy my interpretation of him!

content warning // implied NSFW, though the story itself is SFW

listen to this while you read: Hell by Olivver the Kid

───※ ·❆· ※───

You lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Or, well, you used to at least. The place was dry, lonely, but the few people who lived there called it home.

Everything was peaceful and quiet, until one day a mysterious stranger rolled into town. He rode on a dark stallion, and immediately made his way towards the bank. You stood at the opposite side of the road, and briefly made eye contact with him. It was difficult to see from that distance, but you swear you saw his formal demeanor falter for just a moment.

Minutes after the man entered, there were screams emanating from the building as he jumped onto his horse’s back, sacks of money slung across his shoulder and a young child clutched in his arm. He was about kick his horse into a full gallop, but his head turned and laid eyes on you once again.

Suddenly, he was right in front of you. His arm stretched out towards you, offering an open hand for you to take.

“Come with me”, he said quickly. His eyes were locked on yours, despite the approaching sounds of the whole village coming to stop him. You weren’t sure what drove you to make the decision you did that day. Maybe it was pure impulse, or possibly even boredom. But you took his hand and allowed him to hoist you into a seated position behind him.

With a swift kick and a yell, the horse was sprinting out of town at an almost impossible speed. You wrapped your arms around the man’s torso to prevent from falling, and watched as your old home faded from view.

The sun was low in the sky when he finally came to a stop. You were in a dense forest, just on the outskirts of a clearing in the trees. Peering though the leaves, you could barely make out the shape of what appeared to be... a mansion?

“Here, let me help you down”, he said, holding his arms up to you from where he stood on the ground.

“... Tell me your name first.”

He almost scoffed at your response, “You’re the one who hopped on a horse with a complete stranger. I should be asking you the same thing.”

“You first then”, you retorted. You weren’t sure why you were being so bold with him, but he seemed amused by it.

“I am Sir Billiam”, he surrendered, “and who might you be my lady?”

“[y/n].”

“[y/n]”, he repeated as if he were tasting the word between his lips, “well, I assume you will be living here for a period of time. Allow me to show you around?”

You placed your hands on Sir Billiam’s shoulders and allowed him grab your waist as he lifted you off the horse’s back and onto the ground. A small group of what appeared to be servants had already come to meet him outside. They gathered up the sacks of money, the horse, and the child and took them inside. You, however, were lead inside by Billiam himself.

Billiam’s mansion was lavish. The largest building you had ever seen. He lead you to one of the large sleeping chambers that would become your bedroom. You were introduced to the all of the staff, and told what time each meal was served.

Billiam also explained he would like you to help out with a few tasks that needed to be done around the place. He offered you the job of primary caregiver for the child from your village, which you accepted.

That was how you spent your days going forward. You and the young boy would wander the halls of the mansion, playing games and helping him with his studies. Billiam would sometimes leave for business, but you and him would always meet for meals throughout the day. It became a comfortable routine, and multiple months had passed in the blink of an eye.

One day, you and Billiam were eating dinner alone together. The child had gone up to bed early. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, until Sir Billiam suddenly spoke up.

“I will be hosting a ball in about a week’s time. Would you like to attend?”

You were a little shocked by his offer. He had hosted a couple parties during your time here, but you had always assumed it wasn’t the place for you and stayed out of the way.

“Won’t you need me to watch the kid?”, you asked.

“I can have someone else watch him for the night”, he responded simply, “plus, I would like for you to be there.”

You carefully pondered over his words. He really wanted you to be there? You couldn’t understand why. You were just a small town girl who’d runaway from her home. What made you fit to attend a ball on the level of opulence as Sir Billiam’s?

“Can I ask you a question before I make my decision?”, you spoke up after a few moments of silence. He gave you a nod, indicating for you to continue.

“Why did you ask me to come with you? That day, in my old town...”

He paused for a second before answering, “I knew I would need someone to look after the child. Who better than someone from his hometown?”

You hummed in acknowledgment of his answer. It was a good enough reason, you supposed.

“But that’s not the only reason”, he continued, standing up from his seat. He strode across the room, coming to a stop and leaning against your side of the table. With gloved hands, he placed a finger on your chin and gently lifted it.

“You can clearly see the environment I live in.... I like to surround myself with beautiful things.”

His finger lingered on your chin before slowly pulling away. Your breath caught in your throat as he turned to leave the room, shoes clacking against the hard dining room floor.

“I already have a dress in mind for you”, he called out with his back turned as he pushed his way through the swinging double doors. They closed behind him with a resounding thud. You sat in silence, trying to collect your thoughts as a servant rushed in to clear away Billiam’s plate.

A week later, you exited your sleeping chambers wearing the fanciest dress you’d ever seen. Billiam presented it to you the moment you agreed, having his seamstresses make any adjustments you desired. It fit you perfectly, with elaborate silver jewelry to match.

The party was already underway when you entered the ballroom. There were a countless number of people gathered in the room, all dressed elaborately. You felt a little out of place, but brushed the feeling aside and scanned the room for Sir Billiam. You found him talking to a small group of people, dressed in his dark and gold formal attire.

When he glanced to the side and caught sight of you, he was halted mid conversation. As he stared at you, time seemed to slow. He raised a hand to excuse himself from the group, and began making long strides towards where you stood.

“Hello, my dear”, he said with a smile, looking down at you and drinking in your appearance. His expression was strong enough to almost make you shy away, but you stood strong and held his gaze despite the blush rising to your cheeks.

He offered up an open palm for you to place your hand upon. When you did, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of your palm. He lingered there with closed eyes for what seemed to be an inappropriately long time, but eventually parted and released your hand back to you.

“You look absolutely gorgeous”, he spoke almost reverently. You blushed at the way he spoke about you. He looked gorgeous as well, though you were still too embarrassed to admit that.

“I’ve never been to a party like this before”, you said, unsure of what else to say. He offered out his arm, which you took instinctually.

“You can stay by my side the whole night if you’d like”.

With that, he lead you out into the crowd, rejoining with the group he had been talking to previously. The rest of your night was spent being introduced to people by Billiam, listening in on conversation, and drinking fancy bubbling wine. Once you felt more comfortable, Billiam would occasionally leave the central ballroom with small groups of people at a time. You assumed he was giving select individuals a personal tour of his mansion.

As the party was beginning to wind down, you exited the ballroom. You just needed a moment away from the crowds. The gentle string music was muffled, but still able to heard as you walked down a nearby empty hall way. As you turned the corner, you happen to see Sir Billiam himself standing at the other end. He seemed distracted, but quickly caught sight of you and turned to walk in your direction.

“Hello my dear”, he said breathlessly once he reached you, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted a moment to myself.” He nodded in understanding, clasping his hands behind his back as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I hope you have enjoyed yourself tonight, [y/n]”, he spoke almost nervously.

“I have”, you reassured him, “I would have left way earlier if I didn’t.”

He gave a hearty chuckle, “I am glad to hear that. Hopefully, you can attend more parties in the future. If you’d like to, of course.”

You smiled at him, “I would like that, I think.”

There was silence between the two of you. Billiam opened and closed his mouth, as if he were about to say something, but started rethinking his words midway though.

“[y/n]... I feel like doing something rather foolish”, he said quietly as he took a subtle step closer to you.

“What is it?”, you asked, taking a small step towards him as well.

Suddenly, the smooth fabric of his glove was against your cheek as he brought your lips up to his. You froze in surprise for just a moment before unconsciously melting into him, allowing him to take the lead as he kissed you. Once you started to kiss back, his other hand was placed against your lower back, drawing you even closer to him.

The two of you eventually parted, both slightly shocked and gasping for breath. He looked into your eyes, and you saw as his expression faltered for just a moment. The hand on your cheek pulled away, leaving a small spot on your face feeling.. wet?

“What is it?”, you asked as he looked at you strangely.

“N-nothing”, he said, turning his head downward to rummage through his pockets. “Must have spilt some wine on my glove”, he muttered as he pulled out a handkerchief and proceeded to gentle dab it against your cheek.

You watched as he quickly shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, just barely able to make out a small red stain before it disappeared. At the same time, he pulled the soiled glove off with his teeth and placed it within the same pocket.

“Now”, he said, returning his half-lidded gaze back to you, “with that distraction taken care of...”

His lips were back on yours, though this time he used the force of his body to gently press your back against the wall. He kissed you so fiercely it left your head spinning. You gripped the fabric on the back of his coat in an attempt to ground yourself.

“You’re so beautiful, my love”, he spoke adoringly against your skin as his lips traveled down your jaw and onto the graceful line of your neck, “ever since I saw you in that village, I knew I wanted you here with me.”

You tilted your head back against the wall, bringing your hands up to run through his soft pink locks. He nibbled on the skin where your neck curved into your shoulder, causing you to gasp out in a way that sounded a little too sensual. The way he chuckled against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Eventually his lips left your skin, causing you to pout ever so slightly. Suddenly, he grasped both of your hands in his and got down on one knee in front of you.

“[y/n]... please”, he looked up at you with a pleading expression, “stay with me here. I understand if you only planned to stay here temporarily, but I want you to live here with me. I’ll will provide and care for you to the best of my ability. Anything you could ever want or need, you will have. We will live akin to royalty, and you will be the queen of our domain... and of me.”

You stood in front of him, mouth slightly parted in shock. I was undeniable that you and Billiam had formed some sort of bond during the past few months. Though you weren’t sure what kind of bond it was until now. There was attraction there as well. Billiam was quite handsome, and he clearly found you to be beautiful. Beautiful enough to be picked up and taken away in the middle of a bank robbery.

The day you left your village, you weren’t sure what motivated you to do it. After thinking on it for a long time, you concluded that maybe you were seeking out some much needed excitement in your life.

And something about the way Billiam looked at you was very exciting.

“Yes, Billiam... I will be your queen.”

He was on his feet again, wrapping his arms around you and bringing his lips to yours once again. Neither of you even bothered to say goodbye to any of the guests that night. He continued to kiss you as he led you through the quiet halls of his mansion, escorting you to his bed chambers for the night.

───※ ·❆· ※───

thank you to this anon for giving me my first ever request!

like i said earlier, i ended up writing SO MUCH more for this than i expected to, which was kinda cool. i ended up being very inspired by the storyline i came up with

anyways, i hope you enjoyed it! <3

-moonlight

[sofia-bach]

.

Once there was a silence, filled only by the music that kept playing, Sofia finally noticed she had been holding her breath. Her head was throbbing. Her stomach was turning. She breathed in, forcing herself not to shut her eyes again, not make it that obvious that she was overwhelmed.

"Your parents sound like great people," Sofia said quietly, admiringly. But she didn't understand what Tiana, talking about their relationship, meant by strange. Or... Well, she sort of did. She identified with that, even if she might not fully get what that literally meant.

Sofia looked down at the teacup in her hands. "My mother was an angel. And my father was also a hard worker... But I rarely saw him. He was such a hard worker, we almost never saw each other. But I know he loved me. He always made sure I had everything I needed, everything I wanted. But I never knew what he wanted. I think he might have been a sad man, deep inside... Living without his angel, and unable to see the daughter he loved." That was, at least, how she could interpret the situation. "I... I wished I missed him." Sofia shut her eyes again, and grit her teeth. "That was a lie. I do miss him. I loved him. It's just that... Sometimes it feels like there was too little of him to miss." There were so few memories, and he was so barely mentioned anymore, his presence almost completely overshadowed or scrubbed out from that house... Most of the time Sofia couldn't even remember his name.

"I'm... I'm not very good at games," Sofia chuckled nervously. Games of chance, that is. She would think life, if anything, was a game of chance. "So much of my life feels out of my control. I do what I need to do, study, work, help around, I do all that I can... But I sometimes fear that is not enough." She giggled with lips shut tight. "I don't usually think like that, though. I've been very lucky, I know that, and I try to always be thankful for what I have." Just being able to live in such a great house, study at college, be well fed, have a job to earn her own money, even find time for friends... Yes, she was very, very lucky indeed.

Sofia managed to stare back into Tiana's warm brown eyes for a little while, but in the end just had to look away. "I... I am me," she said slowly, unsure of how to express herself, careful not to say anything that might offend Tiana, since this was clearly something she was passionate about. "And... And I'm okay with cleaning. I am okay with her supporting my decision. I... I don't... I don't think that I..." Was all of this true? It is, Sofia told herself. She liked being helpful. She disliked being a bother. And she knew that, eventually, Guinevere would truly like her, and express her gratitude, and show that she really did care about her. Someday. "... I don't think I want things to change." That wasn't all true. She shouldn't lie. But it was the most direct way to express her feelings, without its complicated intricacies and contradictions.

In all honesty, Sofia had no idea how to respond to that. Still, she had to try. "I... I was taught to always tell the truth, unless that truth was rude, uncomfortable or inappropriate. So I suppose... I suppose that, I think, maybe always... Telling the truth? Being... Being loyal to how you feel?" That was part of speaking her truth, was it not? She was being redundant. "I... I like that. How helping others is also a way of growing."

Finally she managed to smile. "S'il te plait, merci à toi."

Tiana noticed when Sofia stopped smiling, when her eyes shut with something Tiana couldn’t place. Tiana felt fortunate that Sofia was as friendly as she was; still, Tiana wished that there were something she could do to show Sofia that Tiana reciprocated that, especially in moments like these.

Tiana felt that Sofia was interested in her parents, so she shared a good bit more than she usually did: “My dad and mom were good people, plain and simple. Past that, though, there was a lot of emotion in our relationships with one another that I didn’t understand as a child. You know, Black families are like that. Deep, deep relationships, but if you were asked about the specific descriptors, the terms, you couldn’t say a thing. My dad was my hero. He worked harder than anyone I had ever, and still have ever, met. I know how I felt about him now—he was a poem man. When I say that, I mean he’s like the people the poems talk about. He tries so hard, and he loves so strangely—that’s a poem thing. That strangeness was in his smiles, his sense of humor. It made me recognize him as a man who didn’t have everything figured out. My mom was a strong, devoted woman who said what she thought when she thought it. She still acts like that with me, and I’m glad when she does because, like I said, a person’s truth is the most important thing they’ve got. She used to say that when I was older, I’d be a lot like her. That confused me a lot, made me upset, angry. I wanted to be my own person, and a sliver of me just wanted to be the girl version of my dad. But I know what she meant now. She wanted me to know that the beauty I saw in her, I could see in my own life, if I only tried. That’s her to a T. And that’s me, too. So I was right about that comment, too.”

Tiana took a deep breath. “And they’re with me all the time,” she continued, looking distantly at that record player. “They’re in my walk, my talk. They tell me things when I doubt my choices. They pray with me when times get horrible. They’re my guides, both of them. They’re the people I was meant to learn about this life from, and they’re the people I want to make proud with every new day that comes my way. They don’t make sense to me, they never have. But they’re the family I deserve. And I deserve a whole damn lot. They’re my gift.”

Tiana knew well that Sofia’s familial bonds were different than hers. But she wanted to make Sofia feel as if she understood Sofia’s point of view. “You’re in a different path in life,” Tiana said to her at last. “You’re walking in a different road, seeing different scenes in this thing we think of as a movie sometimes. It’s not a movie. It’s a game. It’s the game you play yourself, the game you can win if you just make the moves you want to make. I know it sounds cliche. It is cliche, because people make these things cliche when they pretend they know the reasons behind them. But life is a game, your moves are your own, and the secret is that you’re always one move away from your new life, your new happiness, your happy ending. No one will make a move for you. Because it’s you who’s the expert, you who’s wise in the ways that your game desperately needs. You win that game of life when you say, ‘I can do this thing.’ And I mean that with all my heart.”

Tiana looked into Sofia’s eyes. “Sofia, you’ve got a real tough family situation. I can see that. Anyone who’s ever had a conversation with your stepmother could see that, and that’s the God-honest truth. But you can change that. Tell her you don’t want to clean the whole damn house. Give her those sugar-free banana cookies and say, ‘I’m doing this for us. I’d like it if you did something for us, too.’ Make her see why you’re going into social work, because earlier she said to me that she supported your decision but what I wanted to hear her say was, ‘I agree with her decision.’ Be loud. Be forward. And be you, by all means, Sofia. That’s my piece, but I can say more if you want it.”

Tiana thought about Sofia’s words, that Tiana might not be true to herself after all. With the decision she’d made regarding her work at Third Street fresh in her mind, she agreed with Sofia. “I’m not true to myself,” she said, nodding. “And this is actually how I grow. Helping other people with what ties them down, then seeing about doing the same thing myself. So now that I’ve talked all about speaking your truth and living your own life,” she said, chuckling, “it’s time for me to start behaving that way myself. So. What’s one thing you think I could do to live more authentically? I’d love to know.” She smiled. “Merci pour tout ce que tu as fait.”

[hercleverboy]

the beauty of falling in love

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer is determined to show the reader just how beautiful love can be.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ mentions of sex, swearing.

word count ↠ 4.5k

“Hug me like the night holds the moon.” — Alexandra Vasiliu

Falling in love with her was never a choice. 

It started slowly, building up over the first few months since she’d joined the team. He often lost his train of thought when he was around her, stumbling over his words and getting flustered easily when she paid him a single ounce of attention. 

And then one day, it hit him. All at once. 

He was in love with her. 

At first, he was filled with an unimaginable guilt.

He’d only lost Maeve just two years prior, and it felt like he was betraying her, to find himself in love with another woman.

But when he looked at her, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Not even with Maeve. Maeve was his first love, and he was hoping that Y/N would be his last.

Spencer knew he was more confident now than he had been a few years back. No longer was he an awkward boy who couldn’t gather up the nerve to ask a girl out. Despite all the hurt that had come from losing his first love, it’d definitely taught him a thing or two. He longed to feel the warmth and giddiness that came with falling in love with someone, to be consumed by another’s affections. 

As the age old cliche goes, Y/N seemed oblivious to Spencer’s yearning. Though it wasn’t entirely her fault, as his idea of flirting wasn’t exactly obvious to the subject of his desire. 

He’d bring her coffee from her favourite little shop on chilly winter mornings, watching as her face lit up with joy and feeling the familiar tenderness fill him, knowing he was the reason she was smiling. Of course, Y/N only interpreted the act as a friend buying another friend a drink, when it really was so much more than that. 

When his attempt at showing her that he wanted to be more failed, he went back to the drawing board, brainstorming other ways he could tell her he loved her without ever actually having to say the words. 

His second approach came in the form of touch. More specifically, not being so uptight over touch. He wasn’t going to push himself to a point where he would be uncomfortable, but he was going to be a little more open to touch. And besides, if it came from Y/N, he figured he wouldn’t mind it at all. The approach was executed for the first time on the way home on the jet after a case that had shaken the entire team. He sat next to her as he always did, but this time he reached out his hand, that was trembling ever so slightly to place over her own shaking hands. She looked up from her lap, facing Spencer with a shocked look on her face. Sure, they’d hugged and such before, during dinner nights at Rossi’s or after they experienced a ‘I thought I lost you’ moment in the field, but never had he shown that level of affection before.  

He took it another step further. The next time they were on the jet, it was late, and the team were exhausted after spending days in a row awake as they worked a gruelling child abduction case. It had ended pretty well, with the child home safe and the unsub in custody, but the entire team had practically passed out as soon as they were sat in the soft leather seats of the jet. Y/N had fallen asleep next to him, her neck bent at an angle that couldn’t have been comfortable. Seeing this, Spencer placed down the book he was reading on the table in front of him, quickly glancing around the jet to check that the team were asleep, mostly so Morgan wouldn’t tease him for what he was about to do. 

He gently moved his arm, placing it around her shoulder and smoothly guiding her body to rest against his, her head dropping down onto his shoulder in a much more comfortable position than it was before. He succeeded in not waking her, smiling down at her when she nestled her face into the crook of his neck as she slept, her small hands gripping onto the fabric of his sweater vest as cute soft snores left her lips. 

When the pilot announced they were due to land within the next few minutes, Spencer gently shook Y/N awake, hoping that he wouldn’t startle her. She blinked her pretty eyes open slowly, taking in her surroundings. She smiled a little when she noticed the position she’d been sleeping in, sitting up. spencer tried not to seem too upset when she pulled completely away from him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to use you as a human pillow.” She joked. 

He pushed his slight upset aside, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. You were sleeping in a position that would’ve hurt your neck if you stayed in it, so I figured my shoulder would be better for you.” He tried so hard to pour as much sincerity and sentiment into the words as he could, hoping and praying she’d read between the lines. 

She didn’t. She simply patted his chest, murmuring a small ‘thank you’, before buckling her seat belt for landing. 

Spencer was starting to lose hope in his subtle approach, part of him figuring he was just going to have to come right out and say it- ‘I love you and I have done for months now.’ 

One evening, after a tiring paperwork day in the office, Spencer looked around the bullpen to see that everyone else on the team had gone home. Himself and Y/N were the only ones still packing up. Feelings aside, they were close friends, and normally waited for one another to pack up before walking out together to their cars. 

Y/N threw the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, eyes sweeping over her desk to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She turned around, walking toward the exit of the bullpen as she glanced over to Spencer, who was placing a book inside his satchel. 

“You ready to go?” She asked. 

He threw his satchel strap over his shoulder, nodding as he followed her out to the elevators. 

As they waited for the elevator, Y/N took note of how fidgety he seemed. His fingers played anxiously with the leather strap of his bag, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he looked down at his shoes. A ding sounded out, the doors opening before them, Spencer gesturing with his hand for her to go in first- ever the gentleman. 

Y/N waited a moment to see if he would start talking, like he usually did, rambling about something or other. However, he seemed uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes trained on the floor. She could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. She decided she’d just start talking to fill the silence, knowing that Spencer would speak when he wanted to. 

At the sound of her voice, his eyes snapped up to her face. He wasn’t listening to what she was talking about, instead his eyes lingered on her facial features, memorising every freckle, the blush on her cheeks and the passion in her eyes as she spoke. His mind swam with possibilities.

How am I supposed to make a move? I’m obviously going to have to be more upfront about it so she gets the message.

They exited the elevator once it reached the lower level car park. She turned to Spencer with an unsure smile, wanting to ask if there was something wrong but deciding against it. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she gave him a simple wave and headed off in the direction of her car. 

Spencer stood there, watching her walk away as his brain worked at a thousand miles a minute to come up with something to say- 

“Wait up!” He called after her, speeding to follow after her. She turned around at the call of her name, confused as she saw Spencer coming after her. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah- it’s just, its late. Let me walk you to your car.” He proposed, saying the first thing he could think of that would buy him some more time. 

Y/N’s face showed that of surprise, but she nodded, nonetheless. “Okay. Thanks, Spence.”

Once they reached her car, she turned to face him with a small smile. “Well, thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow?” She opened her car door, throwing her bag inside first onto the passenger seat. 

Spencer’s mind was in overdrive, trying to think of what to do. How could he make it clear to her? 

He could only think of one thing.

When she turned back around to face him, she let out a gasp at the feeling of his lips on hers. His hands cradled her cheeks gently and his lips pressed against her own. The action shocked her, and before she had much of an opportunity to kiss back or even think about what was happening, he’d pulled away. 

His eyes darted across her face, trying to gage her reaction and his hands fell from her cheeks, hanging by his side as he took a few steps back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that I-“ He squeaked, trying to think of what he could say to make the situation any better. Instead, he swallowed his nerves and just decided to come out with it all. There was really no going back now. “No- I do know why I did it. I love you, Y/N. I have done for months. You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”

Y/N still had that shocked expression on her face as she choked out. “You- you love me?”

“Yes.” Spencer whispered, afraid to say the words.

“Oh.” Y/N started, her mouth opening and closing as she desperately tried to find the right words to explain herself. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, it’s clear I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer cringed, quickly turning around and heading towards his own car.

“Spencer, wait!” Y/N called after him, but he kept walking, too overwhelmed and embarrassed to hear what she had to say. 

Fuck. That could’ve gone better.

Y/N thumped down in her driver’s seat, pulling the door of the car shut behind her. Her breaths got heavy, and she felt the familiar weight on her chest as tears pricked at her eyes.

She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

*

Spencer sat at his desk, nervously twiddling his thumbs as his knee bounced anxiously under the table. He’d arrived at work that day earlier than usual so he could give himself time to figure out what the hell he was going to do when he saw her. He bit down on his lip as he stared at the glass bullpen doors, waiting for Y/N to arrive.

He occupied himself with thinking of what he was going to say when he saw her. Should he say he didn’t mean it, and hope that would save their friendship? Or would that only make it worse? She obviously didn’t feel the same, so what was he supposed to do? Part of him felt bad that he hadn’t stayed and heard her out, listened to whatever she had to say. But he just had to get out of there. After all, he’d essentially put his heart in her hands, laid everything out on the table for her and she’d said ‘Oh.’

He didn’t notice a presence beside him until a hand waved in his face. Alex was perched on the end of his desk; waving her hand in front of his face, evidently trying to get his attention.

“Reid? Hello?”

He blinked out of his daze, looking up at her. “Hm?”

“I asked what was up with you. You seem.. distant.” Alex noted.

“It’s nothing.” He brushed her off, not feeling like talking about it. 

Alex narrowed her eyes down at the boy who’d become like a son to him. “Yeah, like I believe that. Come on, you can tell me.”

He sighed, giving in and swivelling in his chair to face her. “I walked Y/N to her car last night.”

Alex’s face lit up. She knew how bad the crush he had on Y/N was, as she was one of the few that he’d trusted enough to confide in. This was because he knew, unlike the others, Alex wouldn’t make fun of or baby him about it. She treated him like an actual person, and he liked that.

She clapped her hands together excitedly. “See? I told you that you had it in you.” Alex’s excited was short-lived as she saw the look of disappointment on his face. “What happened?”

Spencer cringed as the memory resurfaced. “I kissed her.”

Alex nodded, not quite letting her excitement show for the sake of Spencer. “That’s good, right? So she knows how you feel now?”

Spencer shrugged. “I guess. But she didn’t say anything; and she didn’t exactly kiss back. And then I got too nervous and I left. So I don’t really know.”

Alex nodded in understanding. “I mean, she was probably just shocked. Give her a little time, I’m sure everything will pan out.” She attempted to advise, settling a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

Spencer nodded, grateful for Alex’s advice. He’d just have to deal with it when Y/N got there. He couldn’t very well avoid her forever. 

However Y/N didn’t show that day. He overheard JJ tell Derek that she’d called in sick, but he knew that it was likely because she didn’t want to have to face him.

And so, despite what how his mind told him to give her space, he couldn’t help how compelled he felt to drive to her apartment, to at least try and mend what he had broken.

He stopped by the flower shop on his way, hoping that a pretty bouquet might work in his favour if she ended up being mad at him. That was how he ended up stood outside her apartment door, contemplating whether what he was doing was actually a good idea.

He shook all the negativity from his head, raising his hand to knock three times on the door. He heard the shuffle of feet, before the door swung open, Y/N poking her head out to see who was there.

She smiled when she saw him, though she was evidently shocked. “Spencer? What’re you doing here?” She asked, tilting her head to the side in question in a way that Spencer thought was adorable.

“I came to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. I- I bought these for you.” He held out a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers, wrapped in a blue tissue paper with a purple ribbon around them.

She gasped at the sight of them, reaching out to take them from him. “God, Spencer- they’re stunning.”

“They’re Hyacinths.” He started, searching desperately for something to say so that there was no room for any awkwardness, even if that meant rambling about flowers. “The purple colour represents sorrow and apologies. They’re often used as a way of asking for forgiveness.” He finished, and she brought them up to her nose, breathing in their sweet scent.

“Thank you so much, they’re lovely, but forgiveness?” She questioned. “What would you need forgiveness for?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, he thought that much was obvious. “When I kissed you yesterday, it evidently made you uncomfortable, and I just really wanted to apologise for ruining our friendship.”

“Ruining our- oh, Spencer, no. It’s not like that. Why don’t you- would you like to come in?” She asked, stepping back so he could come inside. He nodded, stepping in and taking in the space as she closed the door behind him.

She moved to her kitchen so she could fill a vase with some water to place the flowers in, before she went out to her living room, sitting down on her couch and patting the space next to her.

He sat down next to her, placing his bag by his feet on the floor, his gaze in his lap as she spoke. “Why would you think you’d ruined our friendship?”

“When you didn’t turn up for work today I just assumed it was because of what happened last night and if I overstepped I am truly sorry. I don’t expect you to return my feelings or anything, and If you could forget that I said anything, we could just go back to being friends?” He posed, trying to salvage what he could. 

“You didn’t overstep.” She whispered. “I’m sorry for not kissing back. I wanted to, believe me, I did. It’s just-“ She paused, looking down at her hands that were folded neatly in her lap. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” He whispered back, looking up from his lap to study her own actions. 

“Of being vulnerable, falling in love.” She mumbled. “I don’t want to be in a position where I can get hurt again. Things ended so horribly with my last boyfriend and I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get hurt again, promised that I would just swear myself off from love.” She sniffled, and his heart broke at the sight of tears welling in her eyes. “But then I met you, and that all pretty much went down the drain.” She laughed a little. “Truth is, Spencer, I do love you. But I can’t let myself be so vulnerable again. I’m so afraid of being hurt like I was before; especially when it took me so long to repair myself after my last boyfriend. I can’t- I won’t go through that again.” She whimpered and he nodded, turning his whole body to face her. 

“Y/N, you have to know, I would never hurt you. Not like he did, not ever. God, if you were mine- not a day would go by where you didn’t know how much I loved you.” He whimpered, his voice cracking slightly as his throat grew dry.

“I know you wouldn’t but- I just don’t believe in it all. Loving someone has only ever brought me pain and suffering, so why would we be any different?” 

He shook his head at her words. “No. Love is- love is one of the most beautiful things in the world.” He reached out, gripping her hands tightly in his. “Let me show you.”

“Show me what?” she sniffled. 

“Just how beautiful love can be. True, warming, passionate. Just, let me show you how you deserving you are of love.” He was pleading, and Y/N was so emotionally worn out that she just nodded, crumpling into his chest as she cried, his arms coming around her. “It’s okay, sweet girl. I’m gonna take care of you.”

*

Spencer was truly committed to proving to Y/N that love exists. The pair had begun dating shortly after the conversation they had at Y/N’s apartment, and she was really starting to see what Spencer was talking about. He showcased his love for her in a multitude of ways.

The first? Dates. Whenever they got the time, Spencer took her on spontaneous late night walks when they got home late from a case but were too overwhelmed to sleep. They’d bundle up in big coats to combat the chill in the air of the night, laughing and chatting quietly as they walked, hands swinging between them. He’d kiss her goodnight when they got back to her apartment, igniting a fire within her, this flicker of warmth and passion and happiness. 

The second? A conversation she had with Derek one afternoon in the office kitchenette. She was leaning against the worktop waiting for the kettle to boil, so she could make herself and Spencer a coffee to get them through the towering pile of paperwork they each had to complete. She was staring off out the window, not paying much attention when Derek came up towards her, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and saying her name as a form of greeting. He waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention when he didn’t receive a response, and she snapped her gaze toward him, warm smile on her lips.

“Hey, Morgan. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. How about you? How’s everything going with Pretty Ricky over there?” He nodded in Spencer’s direction, and Y/N’s eyes followed, landing on her boyfriend who was quickly flipping over the pages of a case file for his report.

“It’s- it’s good. We’re good.” She smiled, not sure what else she could say without getting too flustered.

Derek studied her intently, watching how her cheeks flushed as she watched Spencer.

“You know how happy you make him, right?”

Y/N was surprised by the comment, turning her gaze back to look at Derek. “What?”

“The smile you’ve put on that kids face, every day? I haven’t seen him smile like that in years. Not since-“ He cut himself off, not wanting to dredge up the past.

She knew what he was going to say, anyway.

Not since Maeve.

Derek cleared his throat and continued talking. “I shouldn’t tell you this, he made me promise I wouldn’t say anything, but he was talking about you the other day.”

“He was?”

Derek nodded. “Kid got all flustered when I asked about you. The blush on his cheeks, he was red as a damn tomato.” He smirked, and Y/N chuckled at the comment. “But, seriously. The way he talks about you? It’s like you’re a goddess of some sort. His eyes quite literally sparkle when he mentions you. His whole face lights up.”

“I’m lucky to have him.” She replied. She felt such a tenderness swell within her as she heard how highly he spoke of her to his friends, it made her feel so loved. She grinned at Morgan before she glanced back over to Spencer and met his gaze. Spencer was watching the interaction from across the room with a frown on his face. When their eyes met he stood up from his desk, making his way over.

“What are you guys talking about?” He pouted adorably, and Derek chuckled, putting his arms up in a fake surrender.

“Nothin’, genius. Just having a chat with your girl here. But I’ll be on my way now.” He smirked, walking away.

Y/N blushed, turning around and busying herself with making Spencer’s coffee, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions, though she knew he would. He stood next to her, still pouting.

“What did he say?” He asked, inquisitively.

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “Oh, nothing.”

He whined theatrically, throwing his head back. “Y/NNN.” He dragged out her name as she finished spooning half the sugar jar into his coffee. She slid it toward him as she looked up to meet his eyes. 

He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and she relented with a sigh. “He just told me that sometimes you talk about me to him and the team.”

He smiled nervously, gaze dropping down. “All good things, I promise.” He mumbled. 

She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes do kiss his cheek gently, which was as much PDA as Hotch would let them get away with in the office. That and the occasional hand hold. “I know. Thank you.” She smiled, before picking up her coffee and walking back to her desk.

The third? Flowers. Every Tuesday, without fail, she’d walk into the office and find a new bouquet on her desk. Or if they were away on a case, he’d place them in the hotel room that they were allowed to share. Each bouquet was accompanied with a note that explained why he bought that particular flower, and what meaning they had.

One morning she came into the office and immediately smiled at the sight of that Tuesday’s bouquet, laid gently on her desktop. She placed her bag down on her chair, lifting the bouquet and plucking the little note that sat on top of them. 

‘ Peonies. The Chinese name for ‘most beautiful’ quite literally translates to Peony. 

It seems only fitting, as you’re the most beautiful woman on earth.  

Love, Spencer. ‘

It felt like Y/N’s heart might jump right out from her chest with how harshly it was beating against her ribcage. 

The fourth? Sex. Obviously. Whilst he wasn’t completely inexperienced in the bedroom, he was still a little unsure. Still, he did his research. Unless she requested otherwise, he’d take his time with her. Unless she asked that he be slightly rougher with her, he went slowly, gently, determined that every move and every kiss showcased exactly how much he loved her. He wanted to make love to her, the woman he craved more than anything else.

The fifth? How he held her. On those early Sunday mornings, when no one else was awake. where the golden sun filtered through the gap in the curtains, painting her bare skin in a warming glow that Spencer could only describe as heavenly. She slept peacefully on his chest, his arms around her, one hand holding one of her hands while the other ran up and down her back soothingly. He’d press little kisses to the crown of her head, nuzzling his nose into her hair, breathing her in.

It was pure bliss.

She’d never felt so happy.

She’d never been so in love before.

Upon this realisation, she let her eyelids flutter open, titling her head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Morning, beautiful.” He whispered, his voice deep and raspy as it always was in the morning.

She beamed up at him, and he brought his head down so he could press his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

When they pulled back, she felt tears in her eyes as she looked at him. She’d given herself wholly and her heart entirely to Spencer Reid, and he hadn’t hurt her. He’d loved her with everything he had in him, shown her nothing but passion and kindness and opened her to a warmth she hadn’t felt before.

She felt so loved.

Noticing the tears that welled in her eyes, Spencer frowned, moving his hands up to cup her cheeks sweetly. “Why’re you crying?”

“Thank you.”

His frown deepened. “For what?”

“For showing me how beautiful love can be. For loving me. And for allowing me to love you in return.” She whispered, and he smiled down at her.

“It was never a choice. Falling in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

She just nodded at him, moving forward to connect their lips again. She let herself get lost in the euphoric feeling that his love gave her. And while there was no string of words that could correctly convey just how she felt, she knew one that summed it up nicely. 

Paradise.

*

Tag list ; @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx

[harryspet]

welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy. 

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taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong​ @nsfwsebbie​

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?” 

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden. 

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”. 

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in. 

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was. 

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work. 

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation. 

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all. 

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he 

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen. 

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed. 

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door. 

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house. 

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed. 

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her. 

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide. 

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend. 

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection. 

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly. 

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness. 

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes. 

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife. 

+

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you. 

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush. 

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.” 

+

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway. 

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy. 

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today. 

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting. 

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines. 

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors. 

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

+

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations. 

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met. 

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”. 

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty. 

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind. 

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper. 

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” 

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her. 

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned. 

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love. 

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. 

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back. 

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…” 

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak. 

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead. 

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear. 

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

+

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career. 

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve. 

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl. 

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.” 

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him. 

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table. 

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan. 

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier. 

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron, 

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork. 

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face. 

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable. 

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited. 

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide. 

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it. 

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him. 

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip. 

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him. 

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege. 

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth. 

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together. 

“Please!” You moaned. 

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

+

hope you enjoyed! 

[lostintra]

...so they had already been sleeping together, koa was tempted to ask for how long unsure why it bothered him a little. he wanted dallas to be happy and satisfied so having new bed partners was a given, but perhaps it was because before it hadn't seemed quite serious. though her reminder that he was physically less in comparison brought a devilish smile to his face. "uh uh, so he's much smal-ler than me." the words were emphasized in a way that koa was obviously interpreting it as also relating to something else while allowing his intrusive thoughts to add "and sounds like he can't just pick you up and set you on his shoulders so that you're straddling his face anytime he wants." like i can, was left unsaid as his eyes trailed over her gorgeous long legs that had always felt so good draped over him. man, those were such good times. "but you're right, nobody is perfect." he nodded in agreement with a great sigh as he turned the conversation more toward where they had been originally. "i can wear pink, but i don't know if i can control the bromance part. all i can promise is i won't go out of my way to make it happen... which is a little disappointing because i can have a 'bestie from another teste' shirt made within the hour, but i also said i'd be nice so if he just likes me naturally what am i supposed to do?"

“start a bromance?” she asked trying to hold back the laugh, “and what? you two sit and talk about how you both have slept with me.. i think not. you two have literally nothing in common other than both knowing me. no bromance to be had, koa, i mean it.” she warned him. “i may humor the idea if you wear a powder pink shirt, but not one that hugs your body.. because then you are just showing off and i dont want him to feel insecure.” the femme shook her head. “i would not blame him for running away from you. he is literally the size the of your arm. you arent being fair here, he is a really good guy.. i mean he has is flaws but dont we all. just trust me on that and when the time is right you can meet him.. maybe.” 

[sophie-jen]

“Prove it”

answer to @jilytoberfest prompt: “Prove it”

read on ao3 / ffn

Hidden by the cover of night, an eerie castle loomed in the darkness. Woodland creatures never strayed too close, for there were tales of dreadful goings-on within the tall stone walls. The sound of tinkling glass and polite conversation drifted out into the surrounding forest, curling through twisted trees like smoke, while pale moonlight poured in through the narrow windows, illuminating the sinister soirée taking place inside.  

Two gentlemen stood beneath a cluster of candles, speaking agitatedly and paying no heed to the other party-goers. One had artfully coiffed shoulder-length black hair, and was swatting repeatedly at the candles floating not far above as he spoke, while the other, who was bespectacled and had a head of hair that could only be described as the opposite of coiffed, eyed the nearby window like he was considering defenestrating himself at any moment. 

Candle swatter’s voice rose in pitch as he gleefully hammered the final nail in his interlocutor’s coffin. 

“Prove it,” he sneered, watching the confused man in front of him with poorly hidden jubilation. In his excitement, he gripped his wine glass so hard he risked shattering it, spilling the viscous red contents in the process. He had the idiot cornered, and he would relish it like a cat playing with its food.

“Excuse me?” the man asked. 

“I don’t believe you,” he said again.  

“Well, what do you suppose I do, Mr. Black? Go into anaphylaxis to reassure you I’m not lying?” the flustered gentleman responded, trying his best to hold his ground. 

“Except I know there won’t be any anaphylaxis, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Black retorted, “because you’re not really allergic.” 

Mr. Potter ran a hand tensely through his hair, at a loss for words. He was saved from further interrogation by someone calling his name. 

They both turned to see a woman in a black evening gown holding two glasses and walking toward them, eyes trained on Mr. Potter. “James, you’ll never believe what Morticia told me...” 

“Honey!” James practically yelled, relief immediately apparent in his slumped shoulders and softening face. He took a step toward her, grabbing onto her forearm as though anchoring himself. 

The woman smiled bemusedly at him, unsure how to interpret the outburst. She had hair as striking as her husband’s, though hers was a deep, blood red, and fell past her shoulders. James gratefully accepted the glass she handed him, taking a long drink, before remembering that they weren’t alone and turning back to his tormentor with a look of dread. 

“This is Sirius Black.” James gestured toward Sirius, though he did not take a step back towards him. “Mr. Black, this is my wife.”

The redhead looked over, noticing for the first time the particularly pale looking gentleman standing across from her husband, who was going to great pains to look moody and mysterious. 

“I hadn’t realized I was interrupting,” she said. “Lillian Potter, but you can just call me Lily.” She strode closer, James following reluctantly behind, and held a manicured hand out, the nails deadly sharp. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Lily,” Sirius greeted her, watching her claws carefully as they shook hands. 

There followed an awkward pause as they all stood looking at each other. Lily had evidently been expecting them to continue their previous conversation, which James did not seem eager to do, and Sirius didn’t feel quite as confident in his attack in her presence. 

“So, Sirius– is it alright if I call you Sirius?” The man in question nodded, not seeing any other option. Lily continued. “How was your trip? We’re holding this little party in quite a remote location this year.”

“The trip was very pleasant. My car– er, carriage, I mean, kept me shielded from the inclement weather.”

“Your carriage?” The couple looked surprised at this. “I haven’t heard of anyone coming in a carriage in years. It’s quite an old tradition,” Lily commented with a smile. “Why didn’t you fly?”

Sirius took a moment to ponder the question, swirling the liquid in his glass, though he did not drink any. “Naturally, I couldn’t risk ruining my hair. A lot of work goes into maintaining it, you know.” He smoothed the black strands delicately. “Funnily enough, I wanted to check it earlier and couldn’t find a single mirror here,” he added. 

Lily burst into laughter, as though the notion of having a mirror was uproariously funny. “Yes, that took me some getting used to at first.”

James, having grown less weary now that Sirius was acting civilly, finally chimed in. “I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t say I’ve heard of the name Black before. Are you...” he winced, not knowing how to broach the sensitive topic, “new?” 

A flash of confusion disappeared in Sirius’ eyes as quickly as it had appeared. “Yes, yes I am,” he answered, putting on a sorrowful face, which seemed to fit the tone of the question.

“I’m so sorry,” said Lily. “That must be so hard for you. We’re glad you could make it to this little gathering though. Having a sense of community was very comforting for us in the beginning.” 

James hummed softly at the words, settling a reassuring arm around Lily’s shoulders. 

“What about you?” inquired Sirius. “Are you new?”

“No, not at all. It’s been–” James began, and looked down at Lily. She shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “Years,” he sighed. “You lose count eventually.”

Sirius had no idea what response would be appropriate in this situation. “You’ve aged quite well,” he said.  

“Well, we were quite young when it happened,” Lily remarked. The small party sank back into silence, Lily and James looking on with wise solemnity, while Sirius looked a little lost. 

“So!” exclaimed James, in an attempt to liven the mood. “What do you think of the refreshments?” He winked at Sirius. 

“Marvelous!” Sirius held his glass up, which was still just as full as it had been at the beginning of the evening. 

“They’re particularly delicious this year,” said Lily. “But you haven’t drunk anything. Are you not feeling well?”

“You know, now that you mention it–” started Sirius.

“Oh, he was doing just fine earlier, sweetie,” interrupted James with a scoff. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius’ apprehension grew as he realized that James was no longer turning the other cheek, instead choosing to bite back. 

Lily looked confused at the sudden display of animosity. “James...” she muttered, warning in her tone as she placed a placating hand on his arm.

“He was full of energy right up until you got back!” James accused, his voice growing louder.  

“I don’t know what he’s talking about, Lily.” Sirius leaned towards her and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, as though her husband shouldn’t be privy to what he had to say. 

James looked affronted. “He tried to make me eat garlic!” he cried, pointing at Sirius like he was tattling to a teacher. 

“I did not!” lied Sirius, with the instinct of a 4-year-old being accused of stealing his classmate’s pencils. 

Lily simply stared. At length, the poor woman asked, “What?”

“He asked me whether I’m allergic to garlic,” James explained, “and when I told him I was, he said he didn’t believe me. He tried to convince me to prove it to him by eating some in front of him!” he finished, a whiny edge to his voice. 

She whirled on Sirius. “You tried to convince my husband to eat garlic?” 

Sirius only stared, figuring it was best to keep his mouth shut. 

“Why would you–” Lily looked at him in confusion for a beat, and suddenly her eyes widened in comprehension. Sirius’ heart dropped as he watched her turn to James, who was having a revelation of his own, and saw the understanding pass between them. They looked back at him in unison. 

Before he could understand what was happening, Lily had grabbed him by the wrist and was dragging him out of the room, James following quickly behind. She pulled him into an empty corridor, lit only by a few sconces hanging on the stone walls. 

“Who are you?” she hissed, her eyes glowing red in the murky darkness. 

“Please don’t drink my blood!” howled Sirius, “I’m young! I’ve got a long life ahead of me!” 

“Shut up, you prat,” growled James, slapping a hand over the prat’s mouth. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, but you need to tell us who you are and what you’re doing here right this instant, or I cannot promise that things won’t get ugly,” threatened Lily. She nodded at James to let go of the whimpering intruder. 

It all came spilling out. “I’m not a vampire! The invitation was delivered to me by mistake and I figured it was a joke, but when I got here and realized you were all actually drinking blood out of bloody wine glasses it was too late to leave! I just did my best to blend in,” he finished meekly. 

“By accusing a vampire of lying about his garlic allergy?” Lily asked incredulously. 

“You’re shitting me,” came the sound of James’ voice from off to the side. 

Sirius looked over at him apprehensively, expecting to see anger, or worse, hunger. But James was looking at him with an expression of such wondrous awe that Sirius thought for a moment he might kiss him. “Mate,” James said hoarsely, “that’s wicked.” His face split into a shit-eating grin. 

Puzzled yet thrilled by the development, Sirius grinned back. The two boys immediately began chattering, speaking over each other in their excitement. 

“–the balls to do something like this–”

“–really like the taste of blood?”

“–a carriage? Oh yes, it’s delicious–”

“–it seemed old-fashioned, and you’re, like, old. Can you really not see your reflection?” 

“No, it’s a bloody nightmare. But we never age! On the other hand–” 

“Sorry about the garlic thing, by the–”

“–no more cake. No worries, but I really am seriously allergic–”

“–can fly?!”

At the mention of flying, James’ eyes lit up. “Wanna see?” he asked excitedly. He took a few steps back and turned into a bat to the sound of Sirius’ whoops of delight. 

Lily watched her husband fly around a cheering Sirius from a safe distance away. “Un-fucking-believable,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose so hard she looked like she might draw blood. Had there been any blood to draw. 

Several minutes later, after an aerial demonstration and a tour of James’ fangs, they were finally able to discuss more pressing matters. Sirius now had to field Lily’s questions, which weren’t quite as easy to answer as James’. 

“Why would you go all the way out to the middle of nowhere, to a party you weren’t invited to, with people you didn’t know?” she inquired. 

“Because he’s awesome.”

“James, please.”

“Right. Er, this is very serious.” James waggled his finger gravely in his newfound soulmate’s face. “We do need to figure out a way to get him out of here though,” he remarked, looking back at Lily. 

“Can’t you just fly me out?” Sirius asked, all inhibitions lost now that he had James to back him up. 

“You think a bat can carry your body weight?” Lily snapped, at her wit’s end. 

“I read about a passage through the cellar that leads out into the forest, I think,” offered James, feeling guilty for having left Lily on her own to try and solve the very real issue of Sirius’ presence at a party of bloodsuckers.  

“That might work. Lead the way.” She exhaled tiredly, then hummed appreciatively when James wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.  

The unlikely trio made their way down the hallway together, Lily’s head resting on James’ shoulder as she grudgingly answered Sirius’ barrage of questions about the ethics of vampirism. 

The two vampires and the impostor snuck out of the castle and disappeared into the gloomy night.