#y'all we finally did it we finally posted something :')))

[peachesnpears95]

NAH, THE FANDOM NEEDS TO DO BETTER - IN ACTUALLY PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT'S HAPPENING ON SCREEN! INSTEAD OF BLINDLY THROWING OUT BLAME BETWEEN WUKONG AND MACAQUE!

I am just done with this; I try to be as chill and as agreeable with people as possible and try to see other people's viewpoints, and try to get behind their thoughts and opinions as best I can- but no more. I'm sick of this Macaque slander and defamation.

THIS ENDS NOW.

Alright so, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on the whole fandom! I'm taking Wukong AND Macaque away from y'all until you can play nice and stop bashing on both of them and misunderstanding their characters and saying foul things that are untrue and is utter character- assassination.

Neither of them deserves it!

But right now, we're talking about Macaque, I'll probably talk about Wukong at a later date- but for now we focus on Macaque.

So, let's get into it.

I have to disagree with this person for several reasons.

Forgive me if this seems hostile, I am just very passionate and I am in no way trying to start a fandom war. I just can't sit back and watch Macaque get slandered, misunderstood and treated like he's the worse of the worst by the fandom anymore.

I'm sorry but I have to step in and say something, because I would be remise if I didn't and I can't STAND to see something like this floating around, perpetuating that Macaque is some type of fucking abusive, vindictive, and evil character that hasn't tried to be better or make amends in any way shape or form- because it's not true at all.

"Macaque, who has put in ZERO on-screen effort to become a better person or make amends to his victims"

^^^

my fucking whole ass, no.

I am sorry op but this is a fucking shit take and completely and utterly false and wrong.

All Macaque has done SINCE being freed from the LBD's control is work to be BETTER and make amends through his actions- and y'all and many other ppl of the fandom are really gonna go and ignore all of it?

SERIOUSLY?!?!

NAHHHH! NAHHHHH NAHHHHHHH! Macaque has risked his life for the others multiple times, and put himself in danger over and over again for not only MK, and Wukong but also for the others too. Just because we don't see him VERBALLY apologize on screen, doesn't mean his actions don't speak. There are so many instances where Macaque's actions speak LOUDER than words ever could or will. You can SAY things, but unless you actually DO something to back those words up- they will mean nothing.

If Macaque hadn't finally broken free from the LBD and went up against Wukong and put his life on the line to keep him distracted, then MK and the others would have been fucked.

Also, you all realize that Macaque's HEART was never in playing the big bad villain, even MK said as much. Macaque only did those things to survive. The LBD held his life over his head and told him to fucking DANCE with death. Macaque was backed into a corner, with nowhere to go, and no allies on his side to help him.

He was literally all alone, trying to keep himself alive. Macaque bringing the mayor to the LMK gang should speak volumes on Macaque's TRUE character. Macaque is a complex, morally gray character, and it sucks to see posts like this paining him in such a black/white way.

Macaque was an unwilling shadow puppet for the LBD, and he only did what he thought he had to, in order to survive. Because who was he going to turn to for help? It's like when you back a caged animal into a corner, they're going to bite. Don't you lie to me and say you wouldn't do about anything to survive, even if it meant having to do things that weren't 100% morally correct. Like if you were pushed far enough, if your life was on the razor's edge, wouldn't you fight for it?

Like yes he hurt people, yes he threatened Mei, yes he did a lot of fucked up things- were they right? NO. But it's understandable why he did what he did, he WANTED to live.

Like should he have just given the fuck up and died, again? Is that what you wanted from him? Cause that's fucked up. He's literally a victim (just like everyone else) and was being used and abused by the Lady Bone Demon. He had his freedom and agency taken away from him unwillingly and forced to fight to survive.

But the SECOND he gets free from the LBD's grasp. What does he do? He HELPS MK and the others. He chooses to stay and fight with them. Chooses to BE BETTER and help RIGHT the wrongs he (unwillingly) played a part in. And he does this knowing Wukong is waiting for him. The very person who killed him. He fights Wukong even though he's terrified, and this time he's willing to risk his life, because he actually CARES about Wukong and MK both. They're probably the two people he cares for the most at this point and he's willing to die freely just to save them.

He doesn't really have much of a relationship with the others at the time, but he knows they're important to Wukong and MK, so he also risks everything to help them too.

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Then he helped MK go into the scroll -reliving memories that were probably as painful for him to relive (as they were for Wukong) but he did it anyways, to help find Wukong and bring him back. Which I might add was the final push Wukong NEEDED to get out of the scroll.

And then he helped Mei fight Peng to give everyone else a chance to do what THEY needed to do in the plan, so Wukong and MK could get to Azure.

Making sure it went off without a hitch, risking HIMSELF like how everyone else was risking themselves.

Peng wasn't fucking playing, that bird was aiming to kill with those strikes. Peng even called Macaque out.

Asking him if there was nothing Wukong could do that could break his hold over him. And the answer is NO. Not even DEATH broke that hold.

Macaque is ride or die for Wukong still, and would risk his life for Wukong's sake -even though Wukong is an immortal being who can't die- I'll BET MY GRAVE AND ANYTHING ELSE, THIS! Macaque would throw himself in front of Wukong to shield him just because he cares so much about him. He would also probably do it for MK too, in fact he DOES put himself at risk for MK later on to try and save him from himself, and we will get into that soon!

_ _ _ _ _

And then later down the line he let the others escape Ling Ji's prison by literally putting himself in the line of fire and letting himself get captured instead! He SHADOW TELEPORTS THEM OUT BECAUSE HE KNOWS THEY WON'T GO IF HE DIDN'T.

THEN HE DOESN'T RUN OFF, HE STAYS THERE TO BUY THEM TIME. MACAQUE STAYS TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF PUTTING HIMSELF ON ThE LINE. HE CHARGES STRIGHT FORWARD LIKE A WARRIOR WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHAT IS WAITING FOR HIM!

HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT IS COMING! ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN TO HIM/ANYTHING COULD BE WAITING FOR HIM IN THERE. BUT HE STANDS HIS GROUND.

And then when Wukong is being tormented by the 100 eyed demon? Macaque doesn't even HESITATE to help him from the 100 eyed demon's control. HE IMMEDIATELY comes to Wukong's side to free him so they can go find MK.

He was also the one to strike out at the 100 eyed demon when they DID find MK. Mei might have threatened the demon first, but Macaque was the one that just went STRAIGHT to strikes.

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AND THEN- Tell me who is it that uses his shadow powers over and over against the 9 Headed Demon, trying to protect MK the only way he can while he's literally tied up and was the ONLY one who could ACTUALLY do anything about it?

And who was the one that BROKE out of the chaos powers to KEEP MK from throwing himself into the pillar initially- oh that's right, Macaque!

Look at him, Macaque is GENUINELY fucking terrified.

Because he's seen this happen before, with himself. Macaque has been in MK's position before. An emotional spiral of self-destruction that ended up with him dead.

Macaque KNOWS from experience because HE LITERALLY went through the same thing before. And didn't have anyone to let him know that not EVERYTHING was on him. That he didn't have to be alone and do things by himself. That he could have found a better way, a different way. A path that wouldn't have led him attacking the Pilgrims and Wukong- and then right into the grave.

Macaque knows what's happening, he has since the start of S5.

Macaque let himself spiral in the past due to feeling neglected emotionally, and he went down a path of self-destruction that ended up with him dead (he even says as such in the show during s4) when he was talking about Wukong meeting Tang Sanzang.

Macaque has had to WATCH MK go through the same fucking thing here as he did.

He KNEW at the start nothing good would come of MK's spiral.

That's WHY he told Wukong to be better, because he was speaking from past experience. (Not to be spiteful or vindictive or whatever.)

Macque was truly concerned for MK and he doesn't want what happened between him and Wukong to happen between MK and Wukong- because he cares about the Kid so much even if he doesn't say it.

Wukong has been shown time and time again he's not the best at reading people, and that sometimes he prefers to cheekily brush things off without really listening to anyone else, only getting tunnel-focused on the task and hand.

And forgetting to really listen to the concerns of his friends/family, because he is just focusing on protecting them instead of actually taking their thoughts/feelings/emotions into consideration. ((We can also see this during the Samadhi fire arc, where he keeps the fourth ring a secret- MEI EVEN CALLS HIM OUT FOR IT))

I am not saying that Wukong doesn't care, he in fact cares a lot, but he just forgets to actually let the people he cares for ACTUALLY know.

This is what happened to Macaque.

Wukong brushed off his feelings every time he tried to voice his concerns, or ignored him, instead of actually listening to him. He unintentionally neglected Macaque's feelings as he sought out immortality and to take down the Jade Emperor.

Macaque isn't just pulling this from nowhere. This is a fucking pattern form Wukong, we see it on screen, we see him do this. Unintentional or not, Wukong neglected Macaque's emotions and made him feel like he meant NOTHING to Wukong. This is what Macaque has been afraid of since getting to know MK, that MK would end up being neglected just like him. Remember his shadow play? "The Hero and the Warrior were like the Sun and the Moon. Their light, a protective glow, shining upon the world. Together, there was nothing that could stop the two of them. Either in the Celestial Realms or on Earth. As time went on, the Hero attained power beyond comprehension. As the Hero's light grew, so too did his shadow. And soon, the Warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness, the Warrior was forgotten by the Hero." "Well, with ol' Monkey King not around, I thought someone should teach you a lesson. Ah, MK, you really are dense, aren't you? You saw a story about a hero who got handed everything, who didn't have to work for anything, and you thought you were the other guy? The second the Hero got real power; he couldn't care less about his friends. That's you, bud."

"Oh, did you just realize they were missing? Classic hero maneuver. Maybe it's just me but these guys don't look too happy about being left in the shadow of the great Monkie Kid."

Everyone thinks Macaque is lying or embellishing, but he's not.

Not really, he's just showing it from his perspective, which is the only one he's got- speaking from his past experiences about how he was unintentionally left feeling neglected.

Macaque was quite literally projecting his own emotional neglect onto MK. To Macaque, Wukong forgot who/why he was doing all of that for. He felt abandoned and cast aside by Wukong. Because Wukong never listened, he brushed off his feelings, and it obviously left Macaque with emotional scars, due to his best friend's neglect.

Wukong did WRONG by Macaque, by accidentally neglecting him.

This is what Macaque has started fearing for MK, why he's so tough on Wukong to be better, because he can SEE it. He can see what happened to himself, happening to MK. The Kid is on a path of self-destruction, and if he doesn't say or do anything, then the past will happen ALL OVER again. This is why Macaque was rightfully fucking angry and pissed off when he asked Wukong if he ever once questioned why MK had all his powers and could lift his staff, and where he even came from. All because Macaque doesn't want a repeat of the past. He doesn't want MK's emotions to spiral out of control and lead him down a dark path that might end up in his death.

Macaque has come to genuinely love and care for MK and doesn't want him to THROW his life away. HE EVEN BEGS - and LOOKS and SOUNDS like he's going to CRY when he's trying to stop MK. He's so desperate to save MK from himself, because no one TRIED saving him- no one CARED enough to. But MK has so many people who care, and he needs to know that! MK NEEDS TO KNOW IT'S NOT ALL ON HIM!

Macaque has BEEN HERE before. He has LIVED this. He KNOWS how it will END.

He's trying so hard because he cares about MK. and he knows Wukong does too, and the others. And he can't just like MK do this- Macaque CAN'T let MK do what he did and destroy himself.

Then who is it that uses his shadow powers AGAIN to free EVERYONE! So Wukong can go after MK- AH RIGHT MACAQUE! Macaque isn't even concerned about himself in the moment, he doesn't care how he's feeling, doesn't give himself a second thought. All he needs is for someone to go after MK - because he can't fucking do it in his current condition.

Selflessly, Macaque rejects Wukong's concern (what he's wanted for centuries, the thing he's truly wanted most- for Wukong to actually show genuine concern over his wellbeing, without trying to play it off and be cheeky/brush it off- to actually be serious) all in favor of telling Wukong to LEAVE and stop MK.

Macaque WAS right all along what would happen if things continued like they were.

He truly saw the real and deep extent of MK's self-destruction before ANYONE else- before Wukong, or his other family/friends. The others were concerned, sure, but they didn't understand the true severity of it, not until MK is about to sacrifice himself.

But Macaque, deep down, understood where this might lead MK. That MK might fall from the edge, with no one to catch him. Which is why he was so desperate to catch MK as he fell, because no one caught him when he did!

Macaque's spiral destroyed him, he knows what it's like. He lived through what MK did. He lived the path of self-destruction centuries ago. Macaque saw himself in MK, and feared where it would lead MK. Feared he would do something that got himself killed.

AND IT DID!

MK DID jump into the pillar, because he still believed he had to do it alone, that it was all on him. MK went down the path that Macaque did, and he almost DIED for it. (in fact, technically he WAS dead, if you think about it)

Macaque never wanted this for MK, because he knows what it's like to die, then come back to life. The physical wounds might have healed, but mentally and emotionally?

MK might have come back physically fine, but his mental and emotional state will NEVER be the same again. He and Macaque have both DIED and come back to life- changed forever. Physically they are fine, but mentally and emotionally?

They will BOTH be scarred with that for the rest of their lives.

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Macaque HAS changed and HAS become a better person- and it sucks that his efforts have been downplayed by the fandom, all because he doesn't just say a stupid fucking word?

"sorry?"

HEAVENS HELP ME!

Macaque has done nothing but selflessly risk himself, time and time again, since he worked for the LBD. He has worked to make amends through his actions.

He's made it CLEAR that he cares about Wukong, MK and the others, and he will fight alongside them, and hell if he has to- he would DIE alongside them. He hasn't run from a fight once since he's started fighting alongside them. He's THERE, through thick and thin, and he would push himself beyond the breaking point to protect them.

What better way is there for him to make amends/show his remorse than show he's willing to do whatever it takes to protect the LMK gang?

To Macaque, words are NOT enough. There's nothing he can say that would make things better. So, like a warrior, he takes action instead and shows -instead of tells- the others that he's sorry, and he is willing to stand by them and fight.

It wouldn't hurt for him to say sorry verbally, no.

But what the fuck is he even supposed to say: Hey, sorry for almost fucking killing all of you back then?

It would be so awkward of him to say, and it probably wouldn't even SOUND sincere, even if it actually was. I understand people wanting a verbal apology, but being SORRY doesn't always mean JUST saying sorry.

You can BE and SAY sorry all you damn well want to, but it means FUCK all if you don't show you are with actions and with change, and Macaque has done BOTH in leaps and bounds.

Being sorry means you back it up with actions, and with change.

You do better.

And Macaque HAS been!

Macaque understands full well he fucked up, he's not stupid, and he faces the consequences of that by having to work every day to show the others he's changed.

Macaque will ALWAYS have to live with the guilt of what he's done in the past. Is that not fucking punishment enough? Do some of y'all in the fandom have to fucking bash him at every fucking turn possible? Frankly, I'm done sitting by and watching Macaque be misunderstood, misjudged and hated on, because some of you people are as blind as the fucking brotherhood when they wrongfully blamed Wukong for everything going wrong and not holding themselves accountable for their actions.

Macaque does in fact, hold himself accountable, by doing everything he possibly can to protect and fight alongside the LMK Gang. Macaque is trying, and his story isn't over yet.

The fandom is judging him unfairly (as they do with Wukong as well) and failing to consider the nuance, the subtext, and the complexity of Macaque and his character- and just painting him as this one dimensional, obsessive, abusive, and loathsome character.

MACAQUE'S STORY/CHARACTER ARC HASN'T EVEN CONCLUDED YET, AND YOU'RE ALL STILL SITTING HERE CURSING HIS NAME LIKE HE'S A SCOURGE!

WHAT THE FUCK YOU GUYS?! Also like, the characters in the show seem to have already forgiven Macaque (or ARE on the verge of)- so like, why can't we all fucking do the same?!

Has Macaque not suffered enough from dying, being revived, used and abused, and then risking himself and his life over and over for the LMK Gang (Showing he's changed from selfishly seeking self-preservation.)

Seriously Macaque went from an I only want to survive mindset, to a mindset of- I will die for Wukong, MK and their family/friends if I must.

Macaque really sells himself short, saying he isn't a Hero. But is that not what heroes do? Do they not forgo themselves and the threat to their life- to save others. Which is what Macaque has been doing ever since the LBD Arc.

Just how many more times must Macaque risk his life to prove he's changed to the fandom? To prove he has regrets/remorse for what he's done? What does Macaque have to do for some of the fandom to stop treating him like the spawn of fucking evil? Does he have to DIE again for you lot to be satisfied?

I cannot take this Macaque slander and hatred anymore. I am sick to death of it. I'm usually not this fucking mad, but this post ENRAGED me.

Op I promise I do not hate you.

I just HATE what you wrote and put out there, because it's simply not at all true or correct, and Macaque already gets enough misplaced hatred.

(if you want to block me, I don't blame you. I just needed to get this off my chest and your post just made it all come to a head.)

I am not defending Macaque simply because I think he's hot/can do no wrong/is perfect uwu baby victim. No, I understand Macaque for his faults. I know he's done wrong, I know he's not a perfect victim.

But he's NOT who you're making him out to be either. He has changed, and has done better.

Can't we just PLEASE acknowledge this?!

Seriously, I'm at my limit, I cannot fucking take it anymore. GET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!

If I pissed some of you people in the fandom off, then just fucking block me. I don't care. Just don't engage with me. I don't want to interact with people who can't even see that y'all are wrong about Macaque and he doesn't deserve half the fucking hatred he gets! Just because he isn't what you want him to be, or act how you want him to act, or say what you want him to say- doesn't make him a poorly written character. He's just flawed, messy, complex, and makes mistakes in LMK like everyone else, and I'm sick of people demonizing him.

I am revoking the fandom's right to play with Wukong and Macaque for the time being, until the fandom can learn some media fucking literacy, look beyond the surface level, and learn to be SHOWN THINGS AND PAY ATTENTION and not just be handheld and told things and to think for your god damn selves and actually use your noodles!

MOMOCHI KID OUT!

“You need to do better.”

(This gets vitriolic, and is a full-blown criticism of Macaque’s portrayal in Season Four and Five. If criticism of a character/franchise you like upsets you, I do not recommend reading.)

Wow. I had no faith in his character writing, and I’m STILL disappointed.

And it only took one episode! How impressive!

Macaque, who has put in ZERO on-screen effort to become a better person or make amends to his victims, is criticizing Wukong for being a bad mentor! And does Wukong criticize him back? NOPE!

After getting screamed at and berated, does Wukong defend himself? NOPE!

Ooh, but there was a second long reference in a dual yelling match that mentioned that Macaque was a genuinely bad person who took glee in hurting innocent people! Oh, fucking delightful! Ooh, Wukong even points out in one episode that Macaque goes without consequences!

Pointing out a flaw in your writing does not make it less of a flaw.

Macaque will always be allowed to do whatever he wants to anyone he wants- power theft, attempted murder, insults, deceit, assault-

And the narrative and characters will never hold him accountable or force Macaque to look inwards or become a better person.

Macaque will always fall upwards into redemption without any obstacles or pushback.

There will never be a struggle to goodness with a satisfying conclusion. There will never be a moment where falters in his newfound goodness and questions going back to his old ways. There will never be explicit remorse or regret. He will never have deep introspections on his crimes and atrocities that provide a reason for him to want to change.

The sum of his “arc” will always be “you were a good guy all along”, and that lack of depth is where it will stay.

RIP Seasons 1-3 Macaque. You were fun and interesting and cool and lovable.

But the man they replaced you with was destined to be a boring and brooding “anti-hero” who has no real connection to the actions you selfishly and violently performed with your own two hands-

And you will always be a less interesting character for it.

The execution of the actual arc boils down to a single heroic (but ultimately self-serving) moment and then Macaque is immediately forgiven for all the crimes he’s committed and is a magically better person without any effort and nothing he’s done is ever brought up again.

It severely weakens any character’s arc to cut them off from their past actions. If MK forgot his traumas every season instead of carrying them forward- we’d all agree that doing so was a case of poor writing.

It was the reason that people disliked Mei’s portrayal in Season Four- she immediately moved on from the Samadhi Fire arc and “no longer wielded it” after spending a whole season gathering and learning to use it.

Why can’t we agree that it’s bad for Macaque, too?

You can’t “develop” a character by dropping an entire plotline and writing it off with one line.

You can’t “redeem” a character by pretending that they were a good person right from the start.

Sorry, bud.

I really did like you. I just wish I could like your writing.

——————

And, what is more clear to me now than ever?

People only defended Macaque’s shitty writing because they think he’s hot.

I know this now, because I’ve seen white-hot Li Jing arc hatred from fervent Macaque arc defenders.

So we all agree that an “I didn’t really mean it!” isn’t an excuse to abuse the people around you? That you don’t get to mistreat innocent people just because you’re stressed and upset?

Hmmm.

Hmmmmmmm.

I wonder why people despise Jing for his dogshit “one nice thing redeems all your bad actions” arc but love Macaque for his??

(Because they think the monkey is hot.)

The funny thing, though?

Li Jing apologizes to at least one of the victims of his actions. He expresses regret and remorse.

Macaque doesn’t even have that.

——————

Anyways here’s a line that I hate because Macaque has in no way developed enough to have the right to deliver it-

AND NO, SUDDENLY HAVING AN AFFINITY FOR PERFORMING KIND OR SACRIFICIAL ACTS IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

HIM MAGICALLY OFFSCREEN BECOMING A GOOD PERSON WHO CARES ABOUT INNOCENT LIFE IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

IF ALL IT TAKES TO “BE BETTER” IS ACTING LIKE A HERO, WUKONG IS LITERALLY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER OF A PERSON THAN HE IS

THIS LINE IS DOGSHIT

“You need to do better.”

Really, Macaque? Maybe you should take your own damn advice- try apologizing to one of the people you tried to hurt and tried to murder in cold blood!

Like when you trapped MK under his staff after stealing his powers and tried to murder him when he was helpless?

Or when you kidnapped MK’s friends and tortured the kid by forcing him to fight them?

Or you led a violent assault against a palace full of innocent people?

Or violently beat his dear friends until they were screaming in pain?

Or assaulted Tang, who posed no threat to you?

Or threatened to murder an innocent girl if you didn’t get your way, then ran away (and encouraged MK to abandon her) first thing when it put her into a life-threatening meltdown of raw power?

(Isn’t it cool how NONE of these people have interesting or varied reactions to him doing this and ALL immediately are cool with him like a gelatinous hivemind.)

(Oooh ONE mildly questioning line from Pigsy but no anger over his adoptive son nearly being killed multiple times over)

(Isn’t it cool that no one has complex or interesting thoughts on this.)

(Isn’t it cool that by robbing them of unique feelings on the matter they robbed Macaque and the Monkie Kids of compelling and interesting interactions that could’ve helped flesh out their personalities and strengthen their characterization.)

(Isn’t it cool that Macaque and the Monkie Kids are actively denied intriguing character dynamics so Macaque’s shitty “redemption arc” can happen faster.)

(Isn’t that cool.)

Why don’t YOU do better, Macaque?

(In a way that is more satisfying than “one kind-hearted speech from a kid that I tried to murder changed my mind and now I am a better person but all my character development happened offscreen and without personal introspection”, at least.)

Also what the fuck do you mean by “do better”?

Be heroic and put your life in danger? He already does that! He’s done it more than you have!

Just tell MK that he’s not alone? YOU COULD DO THAT YOURSELF, MACAQUE!

Help MK with his traumas and fears? MK doesn’t tell anyone about those! He keeps them bottled up, lock and key, and actively refuses attempts to help!

Wukong TRIED to reach out to him, and MK PUSHED HIM AWAY! Was he supposed to tie the fucking kid down and torture the information out of him?

He respected MK’s boundaries by not pushing any further and letting him leave!!

WHY IS THAT A BAD THING??

What the fuck, man

[everestgale]

@phantasmatoucan (mod Owl)'s voices WILL NOT leave me alone. So, have an entire doodle dump dedicated to their voices:

First, we have their swap!Skeptic, because when I first saw him, I literally SCREAMED, he is so lovely, and he is stuck in my head, and he is unbelievably cute. Owl, how did you create something this precious, it should not be possible to create a character THIS adorable, I have such a strong cuteness aggression reaction towards him GAHHH-

Then we have HEA!Skeptic and regular Opportunist. Their Skeptic is definitely my favorite (so of course I had to draw him in his dapper HEA outfit with gloves), and Opportunist is here because... I don't know, I just felt like drawing this rat (/aff)

Finally, there's more HEA!Skeptic and HEA!Smitten, inspired by one of the doodles in this post. Once again, I absolutely lost my mind over it. Guys, I definitely don't have a favorite (I clearly do), what are you talking about, and also that interaction between the Grey Brothers definitely doesn't make me insane, nope, what are you talking about!.. IT'S JUST SUCH A SWEET MOMENT, I COULDN'T HELP IT.

The best part? That's not even all of my drawings of their voices. I still have a couple drawings of their swap voices and also their Cold (for tournament propaganda). Can you tell I really like Owl's voices? I really like Owl's voices y'all-

A very important bonus - that's exactly how I feel about Opportunist /lh /j

[lovenonymously]

1527

I didn’t care about either of them. Until now.

This is one of those stories where the more you think about it, the worse it gets. The more you read, the more details surface, the more you realize how much was hidden in plain sight.

And now, a month after her death, the weight of it is finally settling in.

For years, this man was untouchable. His image, pristine. A career so carefully crafted that even now, even after the internet exploded with these allegations, Korean media is barely touching it.

Silence. Hesitation. The kind that only comes when you’re dealing with someone so high up, so protected, that no one dares to challenge him.

And the worst part? A lot of people still don’t care. They think it’s another scandal, another tabloid story. They don’t see the pattern. He can't be blamed alone for her death, they say.

But this isn’t just about him.

The playbook never changes.

A young girl, a powerful man. More then a relationship between a minor and a grown adult, he was also her boss.

The imbalance of it all. The way these stories always follow the same trajectory—an older man picks a teenage girl, keeps her close, isolates her, makes her dependent, and then discards her the moment she becomes an adult, the moment she starts to have her own thoughts, her own independence.

She drinks to cope. Crashes. The world turns on her.

Now she’s the villain. She’s the cautionary tale.

He? He moves on. The industry protects him. The public defends him. People say, "Well, she was an adult when they broke up." Ignoring the fact that he got to shape her entire adolescence. Ignoring the fact that by the time she was "an adult," she had already been broken down in ways most people don’t recover from.

Why didn't she expose him?

That’s the question everyone keeps circling back to.

But that’s not the real question. The real question is: Why did she have to fight this battle alone?

She had the proof. The texts, the photos, the letters, the witnesses. If she really wanted revenge, she could’ve posted everything. But she didn’t. And that tells you everything you need to know.

She could have still had hope. That she will pick up her pieces. That one day, she would look at his photo and wonder "who was that again?" People without hope don't change their names or try to make a comeback in a play or have plans to open a café.

It also means she still thought, on some level, that keeping his secrets was worth something. That her silence would be repaid in kindness.

And maybe, deep down, it means she knew the truth: Even with all the evidence in the world, we, the people, still wouldn’t believe her.

We never had anyway.

The silence is the loudest part.

This is what gets me. Not just the details of their relationship, not just the fact that his agency sent debt collecting letters to her while making sure exactly why she couldn’t pay.

What gets me is the silence.

Her death on his birthday and the pictures of them together speak LOT LOUDER than her words ever could have.

Maybe she knew this. It break my heart...

Yet, will this change anything?

Korean media is barely touching it.

His agency is scrambling but saying nothing of substance.

People are defending him out of reflex because "he was so young too" (he was 27) or because "she should have said no, she consented" (gee, I wonder why children need guardians) or "her family should have stopped the relationship" (y'all have never dealt with lovebombing narcissists and it shows.)

And even now, the people with power are waiting. Waiting to see if they can let this pass.

And if they can, they will.

They’ll bury it. They’ll rewrite the narrative. They’ll let time do its thing, because they know the public has the attention span of a goldfish, and in a few months, some other scandal will come along, someone else will die, and people will forget.

That’s what always happens.

So why do I care so much?

I keep wondering this. I don’t follow celebrity gossip. I don’t usually get invested in these stories.

But this one got under my skin.

Maybe because I remember seeing that photo last year and brushing it off. Maybe because I know exactly how easy it is for a powerful man to get away with this. Maybe because deep down, I feel caught off-guard to realise that this is the best example of how celebrities are humans too. Good and bad.

I didn’t care about either of them.

And now, I can’t look away.

[heartavenue]

₊˚ ⋆ Just Like Magic! ‧₊˚.

Okay, so this post was requested by @madebynarii, and it is based on Ariana Grande's song, "Just Like Magic."

For starters, I am completely and utterly obsessed with Ariana Grande and I am over the moon that I get to do a post inspired by a song off her BEST album, Positions!

Positions may you always be famous!

If you didn't know, Ariana Grande is thee GODDESS of manifestation. She went from being a little girl singing the songs from Wicked to playing her dream role in the movie.

So, if there is anyone who knows about manifesting, it's her! She practically manifested her entire life, and she helps me manifest, too.

So if you haven't heard the song before (which is a crime against humanity, by the way),

Today, we will go over some of the lyrics and learn how to manifest just like magic!

Wake up in my bed I just wanna have a good day Think it in my head Then it happens how it should, ayy

So in these lines, Ariana is saying how she wants to have a good day, and to have that good day, all she has to do is THINK about it!

Now, let's replace think with assume just to involve the law of assumption. Here Ariana shows how easy the law is, if you ASSUME something to be true then it WILL be true.

Good karma, my aesthetic (aesthetic) Keep my conscience clear, that's why I'm so magnetic Manifest it (yeah), I finessed it (I finessed it) Take my pen and write some love letters to heaven

Now, look at the pre-chorus; she keeps her conscience clear, and that's why she's so magnetic. I interpret this as more of a law of attraction line but I'm going to make do regardless.

Here, I'm going to get more nondualistic, everything is pure consciousness. YOU are pure consciousness, I like to think of that line as keeping the physical things at bay; so your thoughts.

And by keeping the physical at bay that will allow you to "manifest" anything that you want.

Manifest it, I finnessed it! That line is pretty self-explanatory; by letting go of the physical and assuming, she essentially manifested her desires.

Now the next line about her using her pen to write some love letters to heaven is also just a way of her saying that she manifested something!

However, let's say that she is scripting; not only is scripting something that shifters do. Scripting is also a loa method, by writing down your desires and assuming that you have already received them, that is a way of manifesting your desires.

So Ariana is scripting her desires!

Just like magic (baby) Just like magic (oh, yeah) Middle finger to my thumb and then I snap it Just like magic (yeah) I'm attractive (oh, yeah) I get everything I want 'cause I attract it (oh)

This is the chorus; it's pretty simple. She is saying her manifestation skills are easy. Just like a snap, it's fast and easy!

And take it from Ariana: the way you manifest is just like magic!

Ariana says that she is attractive and she gets everything that she wants because of that!

Now, let's change "I get everything I want cause I attract it." To I get everything I want because I ASSUME it.

Okay, the next and final line I want to discuss is, "Redesign your brain, we gon' make some new habits."

Now let me tell y'all something: I HAD to redesign my brain. The nonsense I filled my brain up with over the years is just plain ridiculous. I

want you guys to take a break, stop overconsuming, and trust yourselves. You do not need to listen to forty different people a day telling you what you already know.

What helped me "redesign my brain," as Ariana would say, is to STOP! You already know how to manifest!

Assume you have it! Boom, that's it! I don't care what no one else has to say!

That is the basis of the law, I don't do any methods; I don't do any of that. I assume, and I BE!

But then again, that is what I DID! What worked for me may not work for you! If you need to reprogram your mind, so be it; if you need to take a break, take a break!

DO whatever you need to and WANT to do! Yes, I am here to help others along with document my own experiences but I am NOT a template.

You think I followed every piece of loa/shifting advice that I seen? No! I took what resonated with ME!

[licorishh]

double ?? upload ???? yeaaaahh i've gotten FASTERRrr for whatever that's worth so complementary blyla because guess what i miss them too (nobody was surprised by that)

[kithtaehyung]

mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k  mood: here 

-

-

“You like that, huh?” 

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.” 

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit. 

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?” 

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give. 

“Then fucking do it.” 

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection. 

“Fuck.” 

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way. 

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble, 

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.” 

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.” 

Busted. 

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag, 

“I spent all that already, by the way.” 

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back. 

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come. 

You won half of his prize money that night. 

And that was the night he won the entire thing. 

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.” 

Oh, shit. Did he really? 

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend? 

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is. 

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?” 

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.” 

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.” 

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved. 

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.” 

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.” 

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.” 

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.” 

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets. 

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed. 

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?” 

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.” 

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…” 

All they care about is one thing. 

Which, granted, is the same in your case. 

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes. 

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?” 

“Fast.” 

Oh. 

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.” 

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again. 

And again. 

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay. 

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.” 

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.” 

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one. 

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that. 

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise. 

“Good.” 

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive. 

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold. 

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.” 

It’s always better that way. 

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.” 

“Mm.” 

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars. 

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.” 

MAMI 

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.” 

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?” 

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.” 

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.” 

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.” 

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question, 

“Nervous?”

Extremely. 

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.” 

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress. 

“What’s got you nervous, love?” 

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust, 

“What if I like him?” 

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?” 

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first. 

“Pathetic, right.” 

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.” 

“Hoseok.” 

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now? 

Talk about not thinking. 

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide. 

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.” 

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.” 

“How!” 

“Don’t think about it.” 

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige. 

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed. 

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position. 

“You look hot as fuck, you know.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“He’s gonna like you for sure.” 

“Naturally.” 

“So what if you end up liking him, too?” 

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.” 

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.” 

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with. 

You’re just fine with how things are. 

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color. 

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure. 

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy? 

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.” 

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.” 

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.” 

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.” 

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.” 

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.” 

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.” 

That goddamn nickname. 

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees. 

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi. 

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject. 

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride. 

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen. 

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place. 

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.” 

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.” 

“What did I say earlier?” 

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.” 

When you grin, he does, too. 

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words. 

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet. 

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away. 

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss. 

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried. 

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?” 

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.” 

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.” 

Cute. 

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy. 

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing. 

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across. 

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page. 

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.” 

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.” 

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds, 

“And next time, too.” 

Well. 

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine. 

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date. 

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile. 

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway. 

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown. 

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in. 

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight. 

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground. 

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him. 

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!” 

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy. 

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing. 

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time? 

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front. 

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone? 

…He’s not looking for you, is he? 

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he? 

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away. 

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.” 

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.” 

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space. 

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air. 

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet. 

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

—

—

tbc :))) 

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

[3bagshotrow]

middle-earth dashboard simulator

🏵 hobbitc0re Follow

pippin was 29 years old???

🏵 hobbitc0re Follow

he should've been at the green dragon

( 420 notes )

📸 daily-middle-earth-photos Follow

#gates of argonath #argonath #amon hen #middle earth landscapes #photographers of middle earth #travel #dark academia #lmao pls reblog this i almost fell out of my boat taking this photo

( 79 notes )

🦢 elfposting Follow

my hungry ass could never travel with lembas

( 9,839 notes )

🐟 sojuicysweet Follow

.

#the entitlement i see on this site sometimes is disgusting #y'all will just post about having easy access to lembas when we can't eats hobbit food??? #we must starve??? #vent #do not rb

( 3 notes )

🗡 shieldmaiden Follow

CALLOUT FOR GRIMA WORMTONGUE

I've talked a lot about this already on this blog, but I want to have everything collected in one post so next time some dipshit with a white hand icon slides into my inbox to call me a liar I can just link to this post. tl;dr grima wormtongue has been poisoning my uncle and the land of rohan for the past few years, and here are the receipts:

Keep reading

( 38 notes )

🧙‍♂️ bignaturals Follow

i stg if one more of you tells me I should've sent frodo on the eagles I'm asking iluvatar to take me back

( 1,930 notes )

📖 booknerdofbree Follow

recent read: there and back again: a hobbit's tale by bilbo baggins

I thought this was SOOO fun and cute! I'm usually not into rpf but did anyone else think there was something between bilbo and thorin? 👀 I can't be the only one who saw it. but the ending made me cry my eyes out.

4.5/5 stars

#booklr #there and back again #bilbo baggins #recent read #dark academia #light academia #book review

( 12 notes )

🌲 elvenking69 Follow

who up mirking they wood

( 58,274 notes )

🐛 manofsirith Follow

wtf the new king of gondor just bowed to these four random short guys?? everyone else bowed too and I just went along with it lmao 😅 am I missing something????

#this is right after he sang a song and made out with some hot elf chick #truly the wildest coronation i've ever been to

( 85 notes )

🥵 firstagebaddiebracket Follow

ULTIMATE HOTTEST FIRST AGE BADDIE TOURNAMENT FINALS!!!!

🔘 haldir-deactivated30190303

here y'all go again pitting two bad bitches against each other

🌀 aragornsbigtoe Follow

🌊 helcaraxebaby Follow

everyone who voted galadriel is a kinslayer apologist #luthiensweep

( 4,271 notes )

�� beaconboi Follow

fuck my job so much. everyone manifest an attack on gondor so I can finally warm my fingers on this beacon fire.

🔥 beaconboi Follow

by eru this can't be happening

( 38,386 notes )

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[gothwineaunts]

Well hello there, readers!!

So, I have been lurking on our socials and in the webtoon comments of Nevermore's finale episode and have picked up some very subtle hints that y'all want to know when we're going to drop Season 2. Firstly I do want to let all the smarties who guessed we'd come back on Halloween based on our Ulalume quote know that they were onto something. When we originally left that hint for you, we were indeed planning to return in late October, but some unforeseen setbacks over the summer pushed our production schedule back. Still, I wanted to say congratulations for getting the hint right! We were impressed so many of you figured it out.

As for the updated launch of season two? While I don't have a specific date to share yet, I can tell you it'll be in January.

I know, I know. Trust me, I wish it was sooner too. I can't tell you how much Flynn and I miss updating weekly. Y'all make creating this series so exciting for us with your energy and excitement and creativity!! The talent I've seen in this community is off the charts. We feel unspeakably lucky to have readers like you along for the ride, and can't wait for you to see the episodes we've been working on.

If you're new to Flynn and I, it might not be common knowledge that we always do the absolute most all the time, compulsively, without stopping ever (save us, ahahhaa). And let me assure you that the opening episodes of season two? Are very most. A lot of most. Super long. Really, extra pretty. I wish I could post them now but I think webtoon might um. Be upset with me if I did that, so. Just trust me, ok? One thing I can share in th emeantime is some of the S2 character concepts. A few characters are getting minor glow ups. See if you can spot the differences!

Okay, well! We'll see you in January!! Or before, if you hang around our socials. I mean we're not disappearing. We'll be here, just. Plodding along on buffer in the background. If you're dying to spoil yourselves with wip streams you can hit up our patreon but I almost wouldn't recommend it on account of. You'll be so confused, at this point. Lmfao. Like. Wow, it would be a really weird time to join a wip stream with no context. This sounds like a shameless plug but I'm being serious when I say it's probably best you don't hop in at this particular moment?? But I mean. I'm not a cop. I'm just your weird goth wine aunt. 🍷

Cheers, Kit Trace

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi girlie! Can you write something about baby daddy Rafe? Set in a FWB universe and reader ends up pregnant because he loves c*ming inside her? Love your works they keep me up at night in the best way 🤭🤍

masterlist

requests are open

word count: 0.9k

warnings: smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, fwb (kinda?)

a/n: hey, love❤️ i wasn't sure whether you wanted them to end up together or not, so i made something in between. i got inspired and wrote another part for this one which i may post later, but i'm open to changing/adding something if y'all have any ideas.

“Rafe… we shouldn’t do this— ah, fuck, please!” You cried out, your back arching from the bed, seeking more attention from his lips to your sensitive nipples. 

“I can’t stop. It’s gonna be okay, just one time, baby.” He grumbled, sucking in your skin. Rafe was pounding into your poor body without any mercy; he was too excited to be bare inside of you for the first time. 

When you came to his place, you two quickly found out that you ran out of condoms that were usually stacked on his bedside table, but you were too far gone to stop it. You were naked, your pussy was leaking with arousal, his dick was so painfully hard and it was hard to think straight. You didn’t want to stop and Rafe managed to convince you to let him fuck you raw. 

You knew how fucking stupid you were and that he might easily get you pregnant, but at that exact moment, the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his bare cock. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I wanna cum inside of your pretty pussy. Shit—you're squeezing me so hard, you like this idea, hm?” He kept slapping his hips against yours harder and harder, causing you to moan in despair and grip his shoulders. You tried to say no, but, in all honesty, you didn’t want to. The stretch was so delicious, and the feeling of his cock filling you completely made you feel dizzy. And having him cum inside? You could have an orgasm just thinking about it. 

No more than thirty seconds later, when you finally reached your height, his cock twitched inside and Rafe let out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard. You felt liquid warmth covering your inside and moaned, squeezing and milking everything he could have you. 

You were playing with fire and it was just a matter of time before everything would go wrong. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, you didn’t stop. Rafe was now obsessed with the feeling of being inside of you without a barrier; he could not help himself when he had you spread out in front of him, ready to be filled. 

It was the best feeling that both of you experienced, but for some reason, you didn’t even try to find another form of contraception. You should have known better. You should have insisted on protection, but there was something intoxicating about the way he took you—the way he groaned your name as he filled you up. It was reckless, dangerous, and oh-so-addictive.

So it was not that big of a surprise when, just two months later, you saw two lines on the test. 

You weren’t dating, even if it has always felt like much more than just sex, so you never expected Rafe to be happy about the possibility of having a baby. You thought he would end everything immediately and simply run away. Yet he was the complete opposite. 

During your pregnancy, Rafe never left your side and made sure to attend every medical appointment, buy every single vitamin and satisfy all of your cravings.

You wanted to eat some weird shit from the store at 2am? He brought it to you in less than twenty minutes. Your body was aching and you didn’t want to do anything? He organised a spa day for you. You had terrible mood swings and cried every ten minutes? He was patient and he did everything he could to make you feel better. 

You quickly fell into that kind of domestic routine. It was comfortable, and it felt right to have him beside you all the time. While your baby was growing inside of you, you both realised more with every passing day that the feelings that you two had were serious. Because you were on each other’s mind’s 24/7, you stayed in yours or his place all the time, and you couldn’t just keep your hands away. 

When Rafe first felt your baby kick, he was over the moon and he had the biggest smile on his face. He repeatedly kissed your belly before falling asleep with his head on your thighs and his hand on your bump. 

As soon as your little girl arrived in the world, Rafe completely fell into daddy mode. He was fussing over her, insisting on spending as much time with her as possible. He never complained when he had to change her diapers or wake up in the middle of the night because of her cries.

He is such a girl dad, and the moment she looked at him with her blue eyes, he was wrapped around her tiny finger. 

Rafe loves being a dad; he loves taking care of his girls, even if you are still not officially his. He makes sure to do everything to make you feel comfortable and give you enough rest. 

He may not be perfect in it, but he’s trying his best and he hasn’t regretted ever getting into this with you. 

[d-z20]

More Than You Will Ever Know (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: For most of your time at college, you've been in a relationship with your sugar mommy, Agatha Harkness. Everything is going great except for the fact you are about to graduate and with that comes change

- OR -

What happens when you turn up at her door months later. It's sex, sex happens.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, sugar mommy Agatha with a few grey hairs 😍, sugar baby Reader, established dynamic, Mommy kink, strap riding (R recv), squirting, angst, a little hurt/comfort, both Agatha and Reader are switches, fingering (R recv), oral (both recv), multiple orgasms, soft aftercare

Words: 5.9k

A/N: This probably isn't the fic y'all were expecting when I said I was doing a sugar mommy Agatha post... but I hope you enjoy it anyway my lovelies ;) requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The restaurant you were at was one of those exclusive places with no menu—just a personal chef curating a bespoke experience, each dish a masterpiece plated with precision. You weren’t sure what half the things on your plate were, but Agatha, ever composed, swirled a glass of deep red wine and explained each one with a knowing smirk.

She sat across from you, effortlessly elegant in a dark silk blouse, her silver streaks catching in the dim candlelight. You’d barely sat down before she leaned forward, her fingers brushing over yours, and said, “You look stunning tonight, darling.”

You did, of course, because she’d made sure of it. The dress you wore—a sleek, custom-made piece in a colour that suited your skin perfectly—was her gift. She had it delivered earlier that day, instructing you to wear it to your graduation as well. “Something beautiful for someone extraordinary,” she had hummed as she held it up against your body, assessing the fit before insisting on getting it tailored just a little more.

Throughout dinner, she was her usual indulgent self, ordering the best of everything and ensuring you never had to lift a finger. When the waiter poured more champagne into your flute, she merely tilted her head with amusement and said, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

And celebrate she did—showering you with praise between bites of delicacies, her voice rich with something dangerously close to pride.

“I always knew you could do it,” she said, her thumb lazily tracing the stem of her wine glass. “You’re brilliant, and I’ve seen it from the very beginning. Your mind—fuck, it’s a wonder and a privilege to witness. I hope you know that.”

Warmth spread through you, not just from the alcohol but from the way she looked at you—as if you were the only thing worth admiring in this whole damn place. You ducked your head, feeling the heat creep up your neck, but Agatha wasn’t having any of that. She reached across the table, tilting your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"None of that, baby," she chastised softly. "You’ve worked so hard, and now you're finally here. I am so proud of you."

Your heart squeezed, and before you could even form a response, she was placing a small velvet box in your hand. "Not yet," she hummed when you made to open it, her lips curling in amusement. "Save it for later."

You didn’t press, instead slipping the small box into your bag—another thing Agatha had insisted on buying for you.

And, in this moment, life was perfect.

—

Heat. Skin against skin. The soft rustle of silk sheets as your body moved against hers, your fingers digging into toned muscle. Agatha beneath you, her hands firm on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you, worshipping you in the way only she knew how. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and sex.

"You take me so well, baby," she rasped, her voice hoarse with want, nails dragging down your spine, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake.

Your head was spinning, pleasure pooling in your stomach, tightening unbearably. She always did this to you—reduced you to nothing but need, left you craving her touch even when she was already giving you everything. And right now, you could feel her inside you, the stretch of silicone filling you so perfectly it had you trembling, your body fluttering around the unyielding length with every slow, deliberate roll of your hips.

"Mommy," you mewled, your voice high and breathless, and Agatha groaned in response, her grip on you tightening.

"That’s right, baby," she purred, voice molten. "Come on, let me hear you. Let me feel you."

A desperate moan left your lips, your thighs shaking as she bucked up into you, her hands guiding your movements in a way that made you dizzy with need. Every stroke had you gasping, the friction deep and deliberate, hitting your g-spot over and over again. But it wasn’t just that—Agatha’s mouth was on you too, hot and wet, her lips closing around your nipple as she sucked, her tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"So fucking perfect," she praised, letting her fingers slide up to cup your jaw, tilting your head down until your lips were only a breath away. "You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?"

"Y-Yes, Mommy," you gasped, barely coherent, but she swallowed your sounds with a kiss, deep and possessive.

The pressure coiled tighter, impossibly so, your body alight with sensation, every nerve ending sparking under her touch. You could feel another orgasm building, stealing the breath from your lungs, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you chased that final, devastating peak.

"That's it, my love," she groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me, baby."

And you did. A shattered moan, body arching, the pleasure tearing through you like fire. The intensity was blinding, overwhelming; your entire body tensed, then gave way to the sheer force of your climax. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the pleasure burst free, your thighs trembling violently as you soaked the strap buried deep inside you.

Agatha groaned low, feeling the warmth spread between her legs, the slick mess you had made drenching the harness, the sheets, and her own skin. “Fuck, baby,” she husked, her voice thick with satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as if to steady you. “Look at you... so perfect.”

Your breath came in rapid pants, your limbs weak, your body still wracked with aftershocks. The evidence of your pleasure was undeniable—your arousal staining the sheets beneath you, glistening against Agatha’s stomach just above where the strap had pressed flush against her. She let out a pleased hum, her fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you collapsed against her, utterly spent.

“There you go, baby,” she whispered, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “You did so well for Mommy.”

Her hands ran slowly, worshipfully, over your spine, grounding you as you shivered against her. She pressed lazy, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, anywhere she could reach, while both of you struggled to catch your breath. The world beyond these walls didn’t exist; there was only the warmth of her embrace, the way she murmured your name like a prayer, the soft hum of contentment vibrating against your skin.

You belonged here. With her. Always.

And yet, you didn’t notice the way her expression shifted, the way her hold tightened just a fraction, as if she were memorising the feel of you, as if she were already preparing to let you go.

—

The sun dipped below the skyline as you sat on the edge of Agatha’s expansive marble countertop, feeling a familiar weight in the air. Less than twenty-four hours ago, you had been wrapped in her arms, your body trembling with pleasure, her voice thick with praise as she called you perfect. She had spoilt you rotten—an extravagant dinner, a new dress, a reminder that she was proud of you, that she always knew you’d make it. Things had felt so whole, so right.

But tonight? Tonight felt like the cruellest contrast.

Agatha’s penthouse, usually brimming with her presence, warm and commanding, felt cold and distant. She was pacing the living room, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes avoiding yours. There was no teasing smirk, no playful remark about how well you took her the night before. The tension in the air was suffocating, pressing against your chest like a vice.

Finally, she broke the silence with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re about to graduate, Y/N,” she began, her voice smooth yet clipped. "I think it's time we stop pretending that this... arrangement... still serves either of us."

You blinked, your stomach plummeting. Just last night, she had held you so tightly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. And now she was speaking as if the last three and a half years were nothing more than a fleeting indulgence.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the words came out too sharp, too raw.

Her eyes flickered toward you, her lips twisting into a teasing smirk, but it didn’t carry the same warmth it usually did. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. You have a great job lined up and a whole life ahead of you. You don’t need me to be your sugar mommy anymore."

The words stung. You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat, masking it with a hollow laugh. "I don’t need you? Is that what you think?"

"You don’t need a sugar mommy," she corrected, her voice carrying that sharp edge that cut deeper than you wanted to admit. “I’m saying it’s time for you to grow up. To live your life without being bound to anything—or anyone.”

The finality in her words left you breathless. This wasn’t a joke. There was no hint of her usual playful cruelty. 

She really meant it.

“I don’t want that, Agatha,” you said softly, your voice cracking just a little, but your pride wouldn’t let you break. “I’m not ready for it.”

“Oh, I know you’re not,” she replied smoothly, turning away to pour herself a drink. The sound of liquid hitting glass was deafening in the quiet room. “But you’ll be fine. You’ll forget about me and find someone more your speed. Someone young and eager to be your equal, not just someone who's... well, who’s old enough to be your mother.”

A sharp sting bloomed in your chest, a dull, aching wound. Three and a half years down had come down to this. It started as just a simple arrangement—she took care of you financially, and you gave her company and affection in return. But somewhere along the way, something deeper had blossomed between you two, something neither of you had been brave enough to admit. And now she was discarding it like it had never meant anything at all.

She turned back to face you then, and for a brief moment, there was something else in her eyes—something softer, maybe even hesitant. But then it was gone, masked by that familiar smirk, the one she always used when she wanted to hide her vulnerability.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m doing this for you. You don’t need me holding you back. Go out there. Find yourself. It’ll be better for the both of us.”

Your chest was tight, the weight of her words suffocating. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I only want you.”

She scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but like I’ve said, you'll get over it.”

You let out a hollow, defeated scoff of your own, staring down at your feet as you willed yourself not to cry. When you finally spoke, your voice was eerily indifferent. “Okay.”

You grabbed your bag, turned on your heel, and stormed out, slamming the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

The moment you stepped onto the busy street, the cold air hit you like a slap in the face, but it wasn’t enough to stop the sting behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears, refusing to let the world see you like this.

But when you finally made it back to your apartment, the second the door clicked shut behind you, everything crumbled.

Your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but you barely noticed as your knees gave out beneath you. You collapsed onto the hardwood, your entire body shaking, the weight of it all crashing down on you at once. The tears burnt as they spilt over, hot and unstoppable, rolling down your cheeks in thick, messy trails.

It wasn’t just crying—it was full-body, gut-wrenching, ugly sobbing. The kind that left your chest aching, your throat raw, and your limbs trembling. It felt like your heart had been shattered, and now it was cutting your hands to shreds as you desperately tried to gather the pieces.

You gasped for breath, curling in on yourself, hands clutching at your arms as if you could physically hold yourself together. But nothing could stop the pain or the gaping void that Agatha had left behind.

Your fingers reached for the armrest of your couch and found the hoodie she had bought for you last month, and you clung to it like a lifeline, burying your face into the fabric that still smelt like her. Just a few weeks ago, you would have never imagined this—never imagined she’d leave you, that she’d end things so cruelly.

You thought it would never end.

But it had.

And as you lay there, curled up on the floor, crying yourself to sleep in a hoodie that smelt like the woman who just broke your heart, you failed to notice how the small velvet box she had given you had slipped from your bag and slid under the couch, out of sight.

—

The days following Agatha’s decision felt like a blur. You tried to move on, to focus on your future. The job offer you’d received was a great opportunity, and Agatha had made a valid point about your independence. You told yourself this was for the best, that you could do this, that you could build a life outside of her.

But no matter how much you tried, every minute without her felt like a slow death.

Your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt hollow. The bed was too big and too cold without her beside you. Mornings were the worst—waking up alone, reaching instinctively for her only to be met with empty sheets. You used to wake to the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, her voice teasing as she coaxed you into wakefulness with slow kisses and whispered praises. Now, silence stretched endlessly, suffocating in its vastness.

You kept yourself busy, throwing yourself into the final few weeks of college life as graduation loomed closer. You accepted invitations to go out with friends and tried to lose yourself in the crowds, in the laughter, in the distractions, but it never worked. Conversations blurred together, nights out felt dull, and no matter how much you smiled or how much you laughed at someone’s joke, you felt empty. It wasn’t just loneliness. It was Agatha.

You missed her. Desperately.

You missed the sound of her laughter when she was genuinely amused—not the polite, calculated chuckle she gave in social settings, but the real one, the one that made her eyes crinkle and her entire body shake, a soft snort escaping her. You missed the way she would kiss your forehead absentmindedly, as if it were second nature, the way she’d roll her eyes at you but always, always indulge you. You missed the way she touched you, not just in the heat of passion but in the quiet moments—her hand on your lower back as she guided you through a door, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against your thigh as she read, the way she’d brush your hair back just to get a better look at you.

But most of all, you missed the way she saw you.

Because no matter how much success came your way, no matter how proud your professors were, no matter how many congratulatory messages you received, it all felt muted. Distant. Like something was missing, like a shadow had been cast over every achievement. And you knew exactly what it was.

It was Agatha.

She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You reckoned she had completely moved on, that she was thriving in your absence. You convinced yourself of it because what other choice did you have? The world wouldn’t let you forget her. She was too deeply woven into it.

Her name popped up in conversations—friends of friends mentioning her in passing, mutual connections keeping her name alive. And then there was social fucking media.

You didn’t follow her, of course. That would’ve been masochistic. But that didn’t stop her from appearing on all of your feeds, no matter the platform—through tagged photos, through shared articles, through snippets of interviews that made their way into your timeline.

She was back in full force, attending galas, closing deals, and commanding every room she stepped into. She was radiant, powerful, and untouchable. The world saw her as she always had been: composed. And it made you sick.

Because if she could move on so effortlessly, why couldn’t you?

—

It only got worse after graduation.

You should have been happy. You had finally done it—achieved everything you had worked so hard for. Your professors beamed with pride, and your family sent messages filled with love and admiration. Your friends celebrated you, taking you out, making toasts in your name.

And yet, through it all, the joy never felt whole.

Your graduation gown felt wrong without Agatha there to see it. The dress she had bought you clung to your body like a second skin, but instead of making you feel unstoppable, it felt wrong. Hollow. As if the fabric itself had been stripped of its magic, leaving behind nothing but an empty, uncomfortable reminder of what you had lost. What once made you feel desired now only makes you feel abandoned. 

As you stood on that stage, accepting your degree, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd, your heart foolishly hoping, just for a second, that you’d see her there. That she would be watching, pride shining in her eyes, just as she had promised.

But she wasn’t there and that should have been your final sign, the last nail in the coffin.

And yet it wasn’t.

Because you still needed her.

Not for her money, not for the extravagant gifts or the lavish lifestyle. You needed her. Her wit, her sharp tongue, the way she challenged you, pushed you, believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. You needed the way she made you feel—cherished, adored, hers.

But she was gone and the world just kept on turning.

—

It took a few months, but eventually, the truth hit you like a freight train.

You couldn’t move on. You couldn’t picture a future without her. Your job was exciting, sure, but it was nothing compared to what you had with Agatha. The thought of another person touching you, holding you, even kissing you—it felt wrong. You only wanted her.

You had only ever wanted her.

You were cleaning your apartment when you dropped a pen and it had rolled beneath the couch, disappearing into the shadows. With a huff, you crouched down, reaching blindly, fingers brushing against something soft. Velvet.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The box.

You pulled it out slowly, heart hammering in your chest. The moment you saw it, the memories rushed back; the dinner, the way Agatha had smiled at you with something unreadable in her eyes when she handed it over, the way she told you not to open it yet.

You swallowed hard and flipped the lid open.

Inside sat the most breathtaking ring. It was perfect. A piece so intricate and unmistakably you that it stole the air from your lungs.

Agatha had listened. She had remembered.

You had mentioned it once, maybe twice, in passing. About how you could never find anything quite right, how everything in stores always felt too impersonal, too generic. And yet, here it was. Commissioned. Designed just for you.

Your fingers trembled as you lifted it from the box, your eyes catching on the engraving along the inside.

"More than you will ever know."

Your breath hitched.

What did it mean? More than you would ever know… what? That she cared for you more than you realised? That she—

Your heart surged and shattered all over again.

How could she give you this and then break things off a day later?

It didn’t make sense.

And suddenly, you had to see her.

You barely remembered throwing on a coat, stuffing the box into your pocket, and hailing a cab. The moment you arrived at her building, you asked the concierge not to alert her. The doorman, who knew you after the countless times you came here for Agatha, hesitated before nodding, letting you up without question.

Your pulse was deafening as you knocked loudly on her door.

The seconds stretched unbearably.

And then—

The door swung open, revealing Agatha in silk loungewear, her hair in soft waves, her expression unreadable.

She was poised as always, but something was different.

Her eyes were tired. The dark circles beneath them barely concealed, her sharp features softer than you remembered. And suddenly, you wondered, had she actually moved on? Or was she just keeping up appearances?

Her lips curled into a familiar smirk, but there was no bite to it this time. No amusement.

"You look like hell, Y/N," she noted, voice unexpectedly soft.

You blinked, realising only now that fresh tears had fallen from your eyes on the way up to her apartment.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a humourless smile. Your throat tightened. "I’ve missed you."

Agatha hesitated. Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, but for what, you weren’t sure.

"I thought I told you to move on," she said, voice quieter this time.

"I can’t," you confessed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

She didn’t stop you.

"I’ve tried. You’re all I want, Agatha. I don’t need anyone else, and I don’t want to."

She sighed, crossing her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve in that way she always did when she was thinking too much. "This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, you know."

Her voice was weary, laced with something close to regret.

"You’re supposed to live your life. You deserve someone who can give you what I can’t–"

"You give me everything," you butt in.

The words left you without hesitation, your feet carrying you closer, your heart pounding as your fingers brushed against the silk of her robe. "I don’t need anything else. I never did."

Her eyes darkened.

The breath between you was charged, heavy, thick with something you both had been suppressing for far too long.

"Y/N, don’t say things you don’t mean," she whispered, but her voice wavered. "I’m not going to–"

But she didn’t get a chance to finish. You leaned in, and the moment your lips met, the world shattered.

She gasped softly, just before her hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. The kiss was desperate, urgent, and needy. A collision of everything unspoken between you.

Agatha responded immediately, claiming your mouth with a hunger that sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

"Fuck," she breathed against your lips before kissing you deeper, her grip tightening, pulling you impossibly close. "You’re going to be the death of me."

Your only response was a soft whimper, fingers tangling in her hair as you pressed yourself against her, already drunk on the feeling of her after so long apart.

"I missed you," you murmured between kisses, hands slipping under the robe, palms pressing against her warm, bare skin. "I missed you so much."

Agatha groaned, walking you back toward the bedroom.

"Show me how much."

The second your back hit the bed, Agatha was on top of you, mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone. She tugged impatiently at your shirt, and you helped her strip it away before her hands slid down, claiming you as if she never wanted to let go again.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as she kissed down your body, teasing, tasting, until all you could do was whimper and beg.

"Mommy," you moaned, arching beneath her as her mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before her tongue soothed the sting.

She groaned at the sound of the title slipping from your lips, her fingers gripping your hips, keeping you exactly where she wanted you.

"That’s right, baby," she murmured, voice dripping with want. "Let me take care of you. Let me remind you exactly who you belong to."

You gasped as her hands roamed lower, her touch setting every nerve in your body alight.

But before she could go further, your fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her.

Agatha’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, lips parted, eyes burning with desire but shadowed with something else.

"Why did you give me the ring?" You asked, your voice a whisper, fragile but demanding.

She stilled.

Her breath slowed.

For a long moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze searching yours as if trying to decide whether to run or to finally give in.

You swallowed hard and continued.

"You had it made just for me. You knew exactly what I wanted before I even knew myself. And then you gave it to me, only to leave the next day."

A crack formed in her carefully constructed mask.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Agatha admitted finally, voice raw. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"By breaking my heart?"

Her jaw tensed. "By letting you go before I ruined you. Before I kept you."

Your fingers tightened around her wrist. "I wanted to be kept."

Her eyes flickered with pain, but before she could protest, you reached into the pocket of your discarded coat and pulled out the small velvet box.

You flipped it open between you, revealing the ring—the proof that she had always known you, had always loved you, even if she had never said the words.

"Then tell me what it means," you whispered.

Her throat bobbed as she looked at the engraving.

"More than you will ever know."

Agatha exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair. 

"It means..." she hesitated, then shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle. "It means I’m a coward."

You frowned, shifting onto your side to face her fully. "Agatha–"

She cut you off with a sigh, her fingers ghosting over your wrist, like she needed to touch you to ground herself. "I was going to explain it all that night. Before I—before I convinced myself you were better off without me." She scoffed lightly, as if irritated at her own foolishness. "I thought pushing you away would make it easier for you to move on. That it would be easier for me."

Your breath caught. "And was it?"

Her gaze softened, and she gave you a small, sad smile. "No. It was hell."

Something in your chest cracked wide open. You reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together, grounding yourself in her warmth. "What does the engraving mean?" You ask again.

She let out a breath like she had been holding it for months. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, she said the words you had been waiting for all along.

"It meant... it means I love you, Y/N." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I love you more than you will ever know. I should have said it a long time ago, but I didn’t know how. So I put it in a gift instead, hoping you’d understand without me having to say it."

Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t just pain. It was overwhelming, all-consuming relief.

"I love you too."

Agatha’s breath caught.

"Say it again," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sat up, reaching for her, cupping her face between your hands.

"I love you, Agatha. I never stopped. I never could."

The tension in her body melted as she exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.

Then she kissed you again.

This time, it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed or frantic.

It was slow. Intentional. Reverent.

Agatha laid you back down with deliberate care, her hands trailing over your body like she was memorising you all over again. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered "mine" against your skin was a promise.

The rest of your clothes were shed in a haze of need, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor drowned out by breathless moans and desperate hands mapping out familiar territory. Agatha took her time with you first, pinning you beneath her as she trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your body, her tongue flicking over sensitive skin, her fingers following in its wake. When she finally dipped lower, parting your thighs with a knowing smirk. She took you apart with practiced ease—driving you to the brink again and again until you were a trembling, pleading mess beneath her.

But you wouldn’t let her have all the control tonight. With a sudden shift, you flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips, drinking in the sight of her flushed and breathless. You kissed like you wanted to drown in her, dragging your tongue down the column of her throat, over the swell of her breasts, sucking marks into her skin, and staking your claim the way she always had with you. 

And when you finally settled between her legs, when you pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and felt her shudder beneath you, you didn’t tease; you devoured. The taste of her, the sound of her moans, the way her fingers twisted into your hair as she cried out your name—it was everything, and you never wanted to stop.

Agatha’s hands tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she rolled her hips, grinding up against your mouth, chasing her release with unrestrained need. She was completely lost in the sensation, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps, her thighs trembling around your head. 

"Just like that—fuck—don’t stop, baby," she groaned, throwing her head back as her body tensed. And then she shattered, her orgasm hitting her in waves, her grip tightening as she rode it out against your tongue, moaning your name like a prayer.

Agatha was wrecked by the time you pulled away, her chest heaving, her lips parted as she reached for you, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. "You’re insatiable," she panted, her nails raking down your back. 

"And you love it," you teased, grinning against her lips. 

She flipped you once more, settling herself over you with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I do. But  now it’s my turn again.” She trailed her lips down your neck, across your collarbone, then lower, nipping and sucking at your chest, your stomach, your thighs—leaving her marks all over you. 

Agatha hovered over your dripping cunt, her hands trailing possessively over your thighs, making you tremble, your body taut with anticipation. She took her time, lips and tongue teasing along the sensitive skin, her breath warm as she moaned something low and indulgent against you. The first slow drag of her tongue had you gasping, fingers fisting in her hair, and she hummed in approval, pressing deeper, savouring every reaction.

Her tongue worked you over with aching precision, lapping and circling before closing around your sensitive clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure. The pleasure was almost too much, the heat pooling in your stomach threatening to spill over as she pressed her fingers inside, curling them perfectly to have you crying out. Every movement was deliberate—slow and deep, then quick and teasing, keeping you on the edge but never quite letting you fall. 

Meanwhile, you could hear the subtle, desperate rhythm of her own hips grinding down against the mattress, a quiet moan slipping from her lips as she lost herself in you, the friction bringing her closer and closer.

"You're shaking, baby," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as she glanced up, her chin glistening, her expression utterly wrecked. "You gonna fall apart for me?" 

She didn’t wait for an answer, just sealed her mouth around you again, her fingers pressing deeper, relentlessly coaxing you toward that inevitable bliss. And then she gasped against you, her body tensing as she shuddered, her own release crashing over her from the way she had been grinding down against the bed. 

The realisation that Agatha was cumming while fucking you sent you spiralling, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that left you gasping, back arching as a broken moan spilt from your lips. She groaned at the feeling of you coming undone, drinking in every last wave of pleasure before finally pulling away, her hands smoothing over your shaking thighs, her own body still trembling as she pressed one last lingering kiss against your oversensitive core, a satisfied smirk curving her lips.

Agatha collapsed against you, her breath warm against your skin as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both too lost in the haze of pleasure and the weight of everything that had led to this—every moment spent apart, every unspoken feeling, every stubborn refusal to admit what had always been so painfully obvious.

You carded your fingers through her damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeats fill the silence. Agatha exhaled slowly, her hands smoothing over your sides, grounding herself in the feel of you, as if she still wasn’t convinced this was real. 

Without a word, Agatha stood, her movements graceful and purposeful as she left the room for a brief moment. You could hear the sound of water running in the distance, the soft splash of it filling the silence before she returned. She didn’t need to say anything; the warmth in her eyes, the gentle press of her lips against your temple, told you everything.

She guided you to the enormous, luxurious bath—spanning the width of the penthouse’s bathroom—an almost surreal oasis of warmth and comfort. The water was a perfect temperature, fragrant with oils and salts, designed to soothe the soul. She lowered herself into the tub first, pulling you into her arms as if you were weightless, holding you close.

The space around you was immense, but it felt like it was just the two of you in this intimate world. Her fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, soothing the tension in your muscles as she softly kissed your shoulder, your neck—anywhere her lips could find. Each tender touch seemed to speak of something deeper, an unspoken vow of care that settled around you like the warm water.

You let out a contented sigh, resting your head against her chest as she kept you in her embrace, the steady rhythm of her breathing grounding you. Your hand lazily traced over her skin, lost in the softness of her touch, the comfort of her presence.

“You’re not leaving this time,” you murmured, the words more of a gentle plea than a statement. Agatha’s voice was soft but unwavering as she kissed your forehead, her arms tightening around you, pulling you even closer.

“Never again,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m exactly where I belong.”

And in that moment, with the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub and the soft warmth of her embrace surrounding you, you knew—this time, she meant it.

-----

this fic had been teetering on the edge of my imagination for a while but I got a sudden burst of inspiration after daydreaming about it all day—lemme know what y'all thought :D

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @jujuu23 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

[mercy-burning]

Exposure

AKA: a gentle rewrite/edit of Part 1, plus the rest of the story.

Pairing: therapist!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After a year of self-inflicted social isolation, a rather intimate suggestion from your therapist turns your life on its head and opens up a whole new world of cliche, sexy possibilities... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Themes and discussions of sexual trauma surrounding a painful sexual encounter, power dynamics, masturbation, dubious consent, voyeurism (unbeknownst to reader), Spencer is a perv, fingering, oral sex (fem. receiving), dry humping. Word Count: 9.6k (I had to cut her down, y'all, it was getting ridiculous and I'm sorry flsjdlksdk)

MASTERLIST

It is finally here. I have finally tackled the beast and finished Exposure the way the fanfic gods intended. I initially wanted this story to be what is is now and what you're about to read, but back when I wrote it the first time, I had ZERO self control and decided to just post what I had without finishing the rest, and I split the story into two parts... And then part two never saw the light of day. I have felt so bad ever since for abandoning the story and leaving you without a conclusion. I hope you'll forgive me and that it hasn't been too long for you to still care and read this now. And if you weren't around to read the original first part of Exposure, I hope you enjoy this brand new story that totally didn't exist before just now... ;)

———

ACT I: Homework

"And what about your sexual relationships?"

You freeze like a deer in headlights, unwilling to budge no matter how loudly his horn is blaring. Even as he asks again, your name a gentle coax on the surface of his tongue, you remain perfectly still.

"Did I strike a nerve?" he asks sweetly with a tilt of his head.

"U—Um... I..."

"It's important that you're up-front about these things with me... It's more than acceptable and valid if you don't feel like telling me everything right away. But if there's something wrong, I'd like to know. That way we can at least find somewhere to start. Does that sound alright?"

"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."

He asks again, and you find it extremely difficult to look him in the eye.

Or to look at him in general.

You knew eventually you'd have to talk about your sex life, but in all honesty it had been forced deep into the back of your mind during the other sessions— You know, when you were laser-focused on literally anything else while trying not to think about how attractive you found your therapist and how fucked up that was.

Doctor Reid always makes sure to speak slow and concisely, which, when combined with its smooth tone and the way he looks at you with his pensive, hypnotizing eyes, tends to be absolutely fucking deadly. And his hands— the way they glide beautifully across the notepad he writes in, or how they flex and tap on his knee or on his chin from time to time, his focus trained solely on you...

He'd been dangerously distracting from the get-go, but now, on the topic of your sex life? You can't even entertain looking in his general direction.

So, with your eyes glued on your lap, you mindlessly count the number of tiny flowers printed on your skirt and answer the best you can. "I don't... I don't have frequent sexual relationships."

You wonder if he'll ask you to speak up, but he doesn't. Instead, he asks, "How frequent would you say they are?"

"Um... Well... I've only ever had sex once," you continue quietly, still training your eyes on your skirt.

"Are you... embarrassed about that?"

"No," you offer more firmly. Defensively.

He pauses. "That's good. There's no reason to be." And after you don't say anything in response, counting seven excruciatingly long seconds, you hear him continue. "How long ago was the encounter?"

You hesitate a little longer, but he doesn't push it. Eventually, intimidated by the silence, you sigh and quickly blurt, "About a year ago."

There's another pause, and you would assume he might be writing something down, but the room is too silent. Not even the soft scratch of pen to page dares to interrupt the tension you're feeling.

"And how did you find your experience?" he asks then, your eyes jumping to his face as if to make sure this is actually real and he's actually in front of you right now, asking you what you think you just heard. Your heart speeds up and your hands start to sweat.

"I—I'm sorry?"

He clears his throat, and yours contracts in a gulp. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I... I don't... Why is that relevant?"

"You're coming to me once a week for counseling because you said you've found yourself shying away from other people, where a year ago you were a normal adult with normal interests in socializing and being around others. And you're unsure of what steps to take to get back to a normal routine. Correct?"

"Yes..."

"Every session so far, we've gone through your upbringing, your family life, school, friends, your first jobs... All up until now. Everything is perfectly fine, and yet we still can't seem to figure out why you've strayed from your habits. The only topic we haven't discussed is your sexual and romantic relationships."

You remain silent, eyes having dropped back down as he spoke, the flower pattern on your skirt suddenly becoming more like a dizzying optical illusion by the second.

Doctor Reid continues. "And judging your body language, I see that you haven't looked me in the eye once since I brought up sex. My guess is that something happened during your first time that—"

"Look, honestly I don't think that's relevant to my situation, I haven't had sex since then because I don't want to, it has nothing to do with this."

"It's okay if it does," Doctor Reid encourages. He is gentle as always, though if you hadn't known any better, you would think he sounds amused. "That's what I'm here for."

You glance up at him briefly, seeing a soft smile lighting the air between you. It briefly filters some of the embarrassment you're feeling, and with a sigh, you adjust in the chair and look off to the side.

"No. I didn't enjoy myself."

"Do... you want to tell me why you didn't enjoy yourself?"

You blink, feeling your chest tighten and your stomach churn at the memory. "It's stupid."

He calls your name gently, sympathetically... "I promise you it isn't... We don't have to discuss it now if you don't want to, but it's not stupid."

Thankfully he lets you mull it over in the silence for a while, giving you time to gather your emotions and thoughts. And eventually, without looking directly at him, you begin to open up.

"He hurt me... I—It wasn't... bad or anything, like he didn't do anything I didn't want to... I just... I—It hurt. Really bad. Like, I don't think I'd ever felt that kind of pain before."

"Did he, um... Go too hard? Do you think maybe that's why it hurt you?"

You let out the loudest breath of air, embarrassment and exasperation filling your lungs with every breath you take. "Yeah, that was part of it, but like... He was also kind of big, and it didn't feel good going in at all... And I know it's supposed to not feel great at first, and I thought it would get better, but... I—It just got worse, and worse, and I felt like I was getting torn apart from the inside out, I..."

Tears are steadily streaming down your face now, your throat incredibly tight and ears pounding as you try to find the strength to speak.

"I... I never want to do that again."

A box of tissues is dropped into your lap after you take the time to gather yourself a bit, and you mumble a small 'thank you' as you wipe your face. Doctor Reid is more than willing to let you take your time, and you couldn't be more thankful.

It's also great to know that it doesn't seem like he had been embarrassed for you or ready to laugh. In fact, his tone is still as smooth as ever, and incredibly warm as he speaks to you, aiming to help you work through this confidently and logically. It's an effort that comforts you more than you'd ever be able to express.

"Do you think that experience had an effect on the way you socialize somehow?"

"I... Maybe. Sure, I mean... I'm at that age where the people I hang out with all want to hook up, and if we're not trying to go home with someone, then we're not having a good time. It's... It's a lot of pressure, especially when I think about the fact that people like sex... I mean, like... That was awful, and people act like it's the end-all-be-all to enjoyment, I... I don't know..."

"Sure... You had a bad experience, and it's normal to retreat after experiencing that kind of pain... But it was only one time. You never know, maybe your partner just wasn't the right partner for you."

You shake your head intently. "No. No, that's not..."

There's a decent pause before Doctor Reid speaks again. "I want to ask you something... And this might be a bit personal, so I apologize if I push any boundaries..."

He waits for you to object, but you don't, silently giving him the go-ahead and wondering what else he could possibly ask you that hadn't already been beyond the boundaries of a deeply intimate and personal conversation.

"Have you ever masturbated before?"

Dear God, you suddenly feel like you have to throw up. "What?"

"Well, before you had sex... Did you ever... Explore what you like on your own?"

"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."

"You guess so?"

You sigh, trying not to roll your eyes for fear of crying at any sudden movement. "Yes."

"Okay... In your exploration, did you ever try anything penetrative?"

"Do I actually have to answer that?"

"Of course you don't. If you're uncomfortable we can move on, but... I really do think this is going to help..."

You sigh again, then swallow hard as you look at his face once more, only to see him as he always has been— sincere and pensive and understanding. And then, as if that look is designed solely to pull information out of you, you can't help but continue.

"No... I've... only ever done clitoral stimulation."

"And what about after your first time? Have you masturbated since then?"

You pause, throat dry. The word comes out of you with resistance, its fear and indignity rising to the surface of your tongue like sandpaper. "No."

Then he pauses. And as you glance up at the clock to see your time is nearly up, you're pretty sure you know exactly what he's going to tell you, that sinking feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. Each breath feels like a stab to the chest.

Sure enough, he speaks and you close your eyes like shielding yourself from his words will prevent them from taking any meaning. You can hear the sympathy in them anyway, and you feel foolish for even attempting to hide.

"Before I see you next week, I suggest you try masturbating again. Maybe watch some pornography or read some erotica... Whatever you think will get you more comfortable with your body and your sexuality... And we'll see where you end up."

The whole situation is so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh, though there's not an ounce of humor lacing the sound. "Do you really think this is going to help me get over my... fear of sex, or whatever this is?"

He smiles softly at you, and despite the poor relationship you've been having with sex, it brings a low simmer to the pit of your stomach that scares more than excites you. "It's a good start."

It's a good start...

"It's a good start," you whispered when you got home that night, right before getting under the covers and letting your hand wander...

It worked, too.

You'd expected it to take way longer than a week to get back any sliver of libido. And it was definitely hard at first, but by the time your next session with Doctor Reid came around, you'd been masturbating regularly every day.

Though, it seems his instruction may have worked a little too well.

Once you were more comfortable with your own body again, you couldn't stop the images of his face as they danced in beautiful flashes behind your eyelids. Scenarios were acted out in your dreams, his presence melding with yours and replacing those you'd watched and read, and it created a new sense of anxiety once you realized that you'd have to see him again in a few days...

And now that you're here, only seconds away from the moment he'd walk through the door, your stomach twists and your heart leaps.

You almost think maybe running out the door is a good option, but then he's waltzing through it with that seasoned swiftness that only adds to his charm and intimidates you further.

"Good afternoon," he greets with a warm smile, taking the seat in front of you.

"Hi, Doctor."

"How was your week?"

You clear your throat, obviously not very good at hiding anything. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yep."

He only waits for you to continue. You hate when he does that...

Because it works, getting you to talk every damn time. "Still not inclined to do anything out of my normal social routine, but I'm... better."

"How so?"

Feeling his gaze on you makes your heart lurch. "Um... I'm more... comfortable... with my body, I guess..."

"So you took my suggestion, then?"

You can only muster a nod, words dying in the back of your throat and evaporating into nothing. You're still not looking at him—not directly, anyway.

"You still seem... reserved."

"Well, I'm talking to my therapist about my masturbation habits..."

Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding with a small laugh that aims to lighten the mood and make you more comfortable around the whole situation. After all, it is only the start of your session this week, and a whole hour and a half of awkwardness wouldn't suffice.

Even still, what he says next doesn't ease your mind much at all.

"Do you mind elaborating a little?"

"I don't know how much more elaboration you need," you half-scoff, clearly defensive over your privacy— And with every right to be so, considering most of your thoughts had been about him.

"Well, let's start with how frequent you've been with it."

That you could do. "Um... about every day for the past week?" And right before I left the house...

"Good. How many times a day?"

"Once." Twice, sometimes three...

"Okay..." He writes things down, and then pauses before asking his next question. "Have you tried any new techniques?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean other than clitoral stimulation."

"No."

He must have sensed the unease in your punctuation, because he leans forward. "Let me be clear. My questions on the topic are thorough and perhaps a bit boundless, but I am not expecting you to be ready to have sex right away. You should always be allowed to go at your own pace, and I will always encourage you to do so, I hope you understand that."

"Right..." There's an awkward pause, but you want things to keep moving, so just to keep him talking, you clear your throat and continue, "So, um... What's the next step then?"

By the look in his eyes, you realize it had probably been the wrong question—and way—to ask. Even after just explaining that you could go at your own pace, the way you spoke to him could have easily been interpreted as a newfound confidence to push forward.

Currently, under his watchful gleaming eye, you find yourself feeling anything but confident. In the past week, unfortunately, that much hasn't changed. Especially after he tells you, "We're going to make sure you've actually been doing your homework. Come with me."

———

There's just something about you that Spencer can't seem to understand. It's something beautiful and alluring, and more than anything it's incredibly wrong. Because he surely shouldn't be taking you to a separate room in the building where they interview mental patients while others watch from behind one-way glass and take notes.

But here he is anyway, leading you into the room and trying desperately not to kiss or touch you in the meantime...

"W—What do you want me to do, exactly?" you ask in that timid way of yours. It's almost innocent, like you truly don't understand why he's brought you here rather than confirming your suspicions. And somehow that only makes him want you more.

"I would like for you to watch yourself masturbate in front of this mirror here." He opens the door and urges you inside as he follows. You survey the space as your hands fumble nervously, and he continues. "It's a form of exposure therapy. My hope is to get you not only to feel your pleasure, but to see it... The act of seeing yourself that way is a good effort to boost confidence and embrace sexuality. The room is soundproof, it's camera-free... Whatever you do in here will be completely private."

"I—Isn't this like... This... I..."

Spencer reaches out and touches your shoulder, and when you look at him like a lost puppy, he nearly caves. "I understand your reservations, and you are more than welcome to decline... But I really do think this will help you. You're completely safe here, it's important for you to know that."

He's speaking to you in that slow, collected way that always gets you to open up to him, and it proves itself useful once again when you finally nod and agree to do his assignment. He smiles tamely, though the images that grace his brain of what might transpire soon are anything but. The pit of his gut is a raging wildfire, and you, though deeply unaware just yet, are the fuel that feeds and flourishes it.

"What do I do when I'm done?" you ask.

He reaches into his pocket and gives you a pager. "You can page me with this. I'll be in my office, so by the time I get to you, you should have enough time to get yourself situated. Is that okay?"

"You're... Leaving me alone?"

The question almost knocks the wind out of him. To play it off though, he offers a small, breathy laugh. "Did you want me to watch?"

"That's not what I meant! I... I just mean... Anyone could..."

"Like I said, this room is completely safe and soundproof. I've booked it for your session today, so no one will be here to use it..." He thinks for a moment, suppressing a grin to the best of his ability when the words come tumbling out. "There is a room right next door if you'd prefer I stay closer though, just in case."

"Y—Yes, please..."

Spencer smiles and hands you the pager, trying not to linger too long when his knuckles brush the inside of your palm. "Okay. Page me when you're done, and I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself. Okay?"

"Okay," you offer with a nod and a small smile. Your nerves have calmed, and maybe this helps Spencer feel better about what he's about to do, but regardless of his ulterior motives, he truly is glad you're making progress.

He leaves and shuts the door, locking it and making quick work of sliding into the small door next to it. After locking that one as well, he switches on the light and settles in, seeing that you've only just sat down on the small couch in the middle of the room.

You both lean back at about the same time, you into the couch cushions and Spencer in the spinning desk chair. It doesn't take but a single movement of your hand down to the button of your jeans to make him hard, and the sight has him even more determined to make you feel the same way about him that he does you.

It's set in stone the moment you slide the denim down your legs and spread them wide, right in front of him. He watches as you take a deep breath and rub yourself through your panties, little pieces of your hesitation crumbling away by the second, and he just knows he's going to fuck you properly.

When, he doesn't know. But it will happen, that much he's sure of.

In the meantime, he settles for fantasy. Spencer opens up his own pants and just loosens them enough to get his dick out, and all the while his eyes are trained solely on you.

He doesn't start moving his hand until you slide your panties down as well, fluttering your eyes closed the moment your finger makes contact with your bare clit. In that moment, Spencer is glad for the soundproofing, because if you'd actually heard the way he groaned out just then, he would have been doomed. He spits on his hand and starts to glide it softly over himself, matching the speed of your own as it languidly explores your body.

All he can think about is how beautiful you are... He should be thinking about how wrong this is, or how you probably don't feel the same attraction to him that he so obviously feels about you, and doing this is only making his crush worse...

But damn it, you're just so captivating, and he can't stop.

And he doesn't.

No, Spencer doesn't even give a second thought to sighing out your name and imagining you in front of him—closer than you are now—with your head tilted up and your pretty eyes batting up at him while he fucks your throat. He mindlessly whispers praises in between low whines as his speed and pressure increases, and he's so close to coming.

He can hold out, though. He can wait for you. He wants to wait for you. He wants to watch you come undone before he even thinks about getting there himself.

But of course, as they say, you don't always get what you want.

It's not like it's his fault, though. You're the one who's losing yourself in a fantasy, using his name on your lips as a plea to aid you in the most intimate form of pleasure...

"Doctor Reid," he can hear you whine as you squirm and bring yourself closer to bliss.

He can't help it, then. His name desperately falling off your tongue sets off the explosion that ripples through his insides. His hand falters, and he releases the most pathetic sound he's ever made right as he comes all over his hand. You're calling his name again, in broken chants getting higher and higher in pitch until you're incoherent, and he's just a sticky, flustered mess.

He sits there and watches you reach your climax, still gently stroking his cock with a lip between his teeth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth hangs open, and your legs, while still wide, are wavering and tensing. His eyes travel down to your hand as it strokes and circles, and he wishes more than anything that it was his.

In fact, the thought gives him an idea for another session...

ACT II: Awakening

The amount of time you've spent the last month watching porn is extremely embarrassing. It's not even just to get off anymore, either, though the relief is nice. Still, the act itself doesn't embarrass you so much as where your mind goes when you do it. You're purposely watching videos where the men have slim builds and curly hair so you can squint and imagine who you really wish you were watching...

It's wrong and dangerous and probably illegal somehow, and still, it's a better place than you were in months ago... So you can't really complain, can you?

Yes, really, you can; You still have to see your therapist while regularly having sexual fantasies about him. Which would be fine if you didn't have to talk to him about your sexual habits every session...

You almost think about cancelling today, but despite the overwhelming amount of time spent thinking about sex and how much you actually want it, you figure that means this therapy is helping. Yourself a month ago would be absolutely petrified at the idea of watching some girl get railed on screen repeatedly, vivid flashbacks of your first and final experience of sex surely to barge in and render the porn and its purpose useless.

So, despite the potential awkwardness, you end up in his office right on time.

Doctor Reid is already there, standing next to a small fold-out bed in the middle of the room with the rest of the furniture moved out of the way. It almost looks like a completely different place.

"Oh, am... Did I get the wrong time?"

He calls your name brightly, turning to see you. "You're right on time, actually. Come on in. I want to talk about your next step... I assume you've been keeping up with your homework?"

You swear then that you must still be in your bedroom, watching porn on a loop, weary and orgasmed out, because you can instantly feel the setup here; It wouldn't be hard to put the pieces together. The cliche nature of it all makes you think you might just be blurring reality and fantasy, your legs weak as you make your way over to him.

"Yes, I have..." you confirm cautiously, though the back of your mind is already battling over whether or not to be excited or scared, or both, at the prospect of this 'next step'. Is it something you're really willing to do? Is it in the realm of comfortable possibility?

Doctor Reid smiles at you, and, Yes, you think finally, it is.

"Well, you've done really well lately, and I'm proud of you for taking this journey in rediscovering your sexuality. It isn't an easy feat after going through what you did, and your progress is something you should be very proud of."

Admittedly, the praise is nice. It's comforting. Genuine. You really have progressed in embracing your sexual desires, though the thought of trusting someone enough to respect your boundaries and understand your reservations to the act itself is nearly sickening.

Unless, of course, that person is your therapist. Then it's not so hard to imagine.

Your body warms at the implications, and suddenly you're nervous all over again, your eyes trying not to eye the bed in the middle of the room. Through a deep breath, you tell him, "Thank you. What's on the agenda today?"

The small laugh that escapes him has you weak in the knees again. "Eager, are we?"

Oh, there's no way he's not flirting...

Right?

You shrug and offer a smile. "You did renovate your office rather... drastically... Excuse a girl for being curious, Doctor."

"Touché," he replies. His syllables are slow and smooth, and when his eyes bare into yours, reality and fantasy have moved past the point of blurring— they've full-on collided, creating this new atmosphere of thick, palpable debauchery that promises to alter the course of your life forever.

You want to jump his bones now, before something changes your mind, but you can't move. The possibility of misreading the situation is far too humiliating to make any sudden movements or declarations of desire.

"Please, sit," Doctor Reid invites, and you calm a little. Your limbs are still on fire with each muscle that moves, until you're seated on the bed, looking up at him and trying not to give yourself away.

Just in case.

If he can tell what's going on in your brain, he doesn't let on. Still, there's something that lives in his gaze, something knowing and all-consuming that calms your nerves like a weighted blanket as his voice plunges you further into this fantastical reality you've created together.

"Like I said, it seems that you've been succeeding at rediscovering and maintaining a healthy sexual appetite. How does that make you feel?"

"Um... Really good, actually. I think I've come a long way, and it's all because of you."

It hadn't been intentional to phrase it that way, but as soon as the words leave your mouth and his lips quirk into a gentle smirk, you avert your gaze, clutching the edge of the bed. "I mean, your suggestions and your kindness have been extremely helpful..."

"That's what I'm here for," he says, amusement lacing his tone, but disappearing quickly as he continues. "Now, I know it's only been just over a month, and it's still absolutely imperative that you do this at your own pace. So if you find yourself feeling like you're not ready to move forward when I ask you this, you are not obligated to agree. Is that understood?"

Your heart is beating wildly within the confines of your chest, daring to and desperate for escape. "Yes, Doctor."

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip as the honorific trickles sweetly off of yours, and then he clears his throat, taking a step closer to you. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in the meaning of the word or the speed at which it leaves your mouth. It's not even a second thought.

"My hope for today's session is to get you to a place where you're comfortable with trying different techniques. And if you don't mind, I'd like to assist—to show you some new pleasure points and help you discover what you like. Is that something you're willing to do?"

You nod slowly, words feeling impossible, which brings a small smile to his face.

"Okay, a few rules. This is a very vulnerable thing. So you need to use your words. I'm not comfortable moving forward unless you explicitly say so, so I ask you again; Do you give me permission to help you experiment?"

"Yes."

Firm. Some might even say confident. The word rings sharply in the air for a few moments before Doctor Reid nods and responds quietly, "Good."

He walks over to you, slowly until his knees are barely touching yours. You feel yourself becoming a living current of electricity at the sheer closeness of him, never mind that he hasn't even touched you. You can only imagine what it will feel like when he does, the thought making you fight the urge to clamp your thighs together.

"Do I have your permission to touch you?"

Touch me how? you want to ask, but you realize it wouldn't matter; You'd let him touch you in any way he pleased. So instead, you tell him, "Please."

His eyes rake slowly over your figure then, possibly considering his next move, but then he simply nudges your knee with his leg, the most brief form of touch but still electrifying all the same. "Will you hold your right leg out for me?"

Not quite what you would have expected, but you do as he says, extending your leg as he rests his palm under your ankle.

"Are you familiar with erogenous zones?"

Your heart leaps. "Yes. I know the concept."

He considers this before slightly swiping his thumb along the side of your ankle. "Are you familiar with your erogenous zones?"

"I can't say I've ever thought about it, so... Probably not, no."

"Hmmm."

Honestly, you figure it wouldn't even matter where he touched you; The fact that he's taken an interest in your sexual desires and putting them to the test with an attentive, hands-on approach is more than enough to get you hot and bothered. The sheer presence of him alone makes your whole body pulse with writhing need.

Still, you let him explore, trying not to prove impatient. It's incredibly difficult when the denim of your jeans slowly becomes nothing more than a claustrophobic obstacle to his attention. Everywhere his fingers brush, heat radiates, but you know it could be stronger. You try your hardest to focus on his questions and less on the signals your body is sending you, violently and utterly whorish. You'd never been this way before, not even by yourself, and you're becoming less and less patient by the minute

Doctor Reid seems to notice this as his knuckles brush the inside of your palm, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you relaxed?" he asks quietly, keeping his head low but lifting his eyes to meet yours. Something about the sight stirs in your stomach.

"Yes."

"You don't sound very convinced."

You can't help but succumb to the bout of nervous laughter that's been dancing in its cage in the back of your throat the whole session. His fingers halt their gentle discovery of your body but remain rested in your palm, every nerve ending threatening to explode. "Well, I don't know if relaxed is really the right word, but... I'm... Good."

He hums pensively, pausing to tilt his head. "You've been responding rather enthusiastically to just about every touch..." If he's amused by this, you can't tell, but the words feel like a prideful observation regardless. "I suppose that means we can move this along..."

When his eyes meet yours again, you nearly whimper.

"May I kiss you?" he asks.

His knuckles start moving slowly against your palm, and your entire arm lights up with excitement at the contact, as does your heart. Suddenly the room feels cold yet hot at the same time, a deep chill crashing through your body like a tidal wave. Your nipples are painfully hard against the fabric of your bra, and you feel it in your bones.

You've never been so turned on in your life.

You nod, then stop yourself, remembering his rules. The word sounds utterly wanton as it gently squeaks past your lips, but it's the best you can do to give him permission short of reaching up and pulling him down to kiss him yourself.

"Please..."

He surprises you again by stepping forward and lifting your arm to his mouth. Sticky honey eyes trap you in their gaze as his lips replace his knuckles on the inside of your palm, soft and warm in every aspect. He takes his time, grazing his nose along your fingers and then your wrist as he drops the gentle pressure of a kiss along every centimeter of skin he explores. It's thorough and attentive and gentle, and you're mesmerized.

Eventually he's kissed his way up your whole arm, and it feels like you've been in this bed for hours, something slowly awakening inside you at his every touch. The excitement bubbling in your bloodstream starts to boil over when he reaches your collarbone, using his hand to slip under the strap of your tank top so he can kiss you there.

Responding to his touch has become second nature at this point, so your head leans away and gives him room to start kissing your neck, to which he does happily.

Where Doctor Reid's kisses had been kind and curious in their pursuit, they've now grown indulgent. His lips part, lavishing the skin at the side of your neck with a warm, wet caress that makes your toes curl and your fists clench. His hand comes up to drag the pad of his middle finger down your throat as his tongue darts out and laps at your skin, and you moan.

Your hips grind and your thighs clench, a disastrous wave of heat flooding through you, and he sucks gently on your skin for a second before sighing.

"There it is..."

You pout when he pulls away, but he strokes your hairline and doesn't go far. "How are you feeling?"

"Really good," you breathe through a nervous smile.

"Are you turned on?"

Obviously, you want to exclaim, but given his thorough and affirmative nature, it makes sense. You also force yourself to remember that he's your therapist and not a guy you've taken home for the night. He's a professional, despite how unprofessional in nature this particular situation is on paper; He's not going to move the process along based on an assumption, no matter how obvious your reactions might be.

"Very," you tell him confidently, a proud gleam in your eye as you look up at him. The twitch of his grin does more than excite you— it urges you. "You turn me on, Doctor Reid..."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmmm."

He leans and his breath is hot in your ear. His voice comes in low and seductive. Curious. Careful.

"Then I'd like you to show me. Will you touch yourself for me, love?"

The pet name makes you clench around nothing, and you whimper at the way it stings. At this point it's physically painful to keep lying there at his mercy without any sort of stimulation, so despite how embarrassing and desperate it might be, your hand is slipping under the band of your sweatpants with ease as you sigh out. "I'll do anything..."

The back of his knuckles tease your neck as you slowly circle your clit with your middle finger, and you don't have to do much wandering to gather your wetness either. Everything is warm and wet and ready for release, which doesn't go unnoticed by Doctor Reid.

"I can hear how wet you are," he muses brightly, his throat caught in a groan as his lips hover over your neck. "That's good."

"Uh-huh?" you whine out, his praises bringing you closer to nirvana.

"That's really good... Are you close already, baby?"

You can't help but moan at the name, a white-hot pool of pleasure filling up in your gut as his lips attach to your pulse-point. "Yes, Doctor..."

"Mmm," he hums into your skin, continuing to kiss you. His hand strokes your forehead as your own makes quick work of your clit. It won't be but a matter of seconds before you're coming undone. "How long can you go between orgasms? Do you know?"

"I... usually wait... ten minutes at least..."

Doctor Reid licks softly at your neck before he asks, "Have you used a vibrator or a toy?"

You laugh involuntarily, clenching your legs as your orgasm approaches and wishing you had your vibrator right now. You bought it after your third session. "A vibrator. A cheap one... But it works."

"Nothing wrong with that," he mumbles amusedly into your skin, trailing his kisses up to your jaw. It takes everything you have not to turn your head and take his lips with your own, just to taste his warmth as you come undone—to whimper and whine into his mouth with every wave of pleasure that crashes through you, and—

God, that's exactly what's happening...

Your body shudders blissfully as Spencer kisses you, and the moment doesn't even feel real. His mouth is gentle but coaxing, helping you through your orgasm with a sense of accomplishment, like his kisses are a reward. At least, it certainly feels that way. It doesn't help that when you finally come down, slowing your breathing and removing your hand from your pants, he rests his forehead to yours with a final gentle peck on the mouth and an affirming, "Very good, sweetheart."

You can't help but feel like he takes note of the way you flutter your eyes closed at the nickname; there's a pause in his movements before he returns to them, lightly trailing his knuckles over your neck until his touch disappears completely.

Even though you just came moments before, his next sentence nearly gives you a second wind, your eyes snapping open and your cunt throbbing with want.

"Has anyone ever eaten you out before?"

"No," you tell him truthfully, and he studies you with a look in his eyes that tells you he isn't surprised to hear the unfortunate news. Embarrassed suddenly at his pity, you try to shrug it off. "Men seem to be pretty notorious for being bad at it though, so I didn't hold it against him... My ex, I mean..." You huff a nervous laugh, seeing Doctor Reid stare at you blankly. "I figured it would save us both the trouble."

"There's nothing troubling about it," he mumbles, more to himself. But then he straightens and inhales, back to business as his gaze cements into yours once again. "Would you be willing to let me do it?"

Even more embarrassing than the fact that it hasn't been done before is the speed at which you respond, "Yes." The word is sharp and desperate, loud and true, and you swear you see Spencer's eyes glow. "Please..."

It's hard to tell what he's thinking exactly—ever the professional he is—but aside from lack of a smile or any other indicator of eagerness, his eyes give his emotions away on a grander scale. They're practically fucking you already as he saunters around the bed, their intensity settling deep in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly you're convinced you could come just by his stare alone.

"May I?" he questions, gently tugging at the ankle of your leggings.

"Yes."

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart."

After a sentence like that, you aren't sure how you have the strength to do it, but you manage, hot flashes coursing through your entire body as his nimble fingers grip the waistband of your leggings and slide them over your hips, then your thighs. His skin is hot against yours, even with as little contact as there is; a simple brush of the knuckle over your knee might as well be a branding iron, claiming you as his own.

He doesn't even have to instruct you, your legs falling wide open once they're free from their fabric confines.

At this point you aren't even embarrassed anymore. You might even be proud of it— how badly you want him to touch you and taste you and show you just how good another person could make you feel. In an odd way it makes you feel important. Cared for.

Your cunt throbs at the intensity of all these emotions and feelings.

It doesn't help when Doctor Reid settles between your legs, making himself comfortable and looking up at you through his eyelashes. The sight is just as overwhelming as everything else.

"You're absolutely sure you want this?" he inquires softly, almost like a plea.

Your vocal cords feel like they're made of rope, the words climbing out of you with burning calluses and a determination to see it through to the end. You've never wanted anything so badly, and you tell him precisely that.

The confirmation seems to please him, a beautiful lilted sigh escaping him as his nose comes in contact with your underwear. It rests just above your clit, his breath hot against you.

His hands come up from under you then, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt. The gentle pressure makes you moan and squirm, his fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, and you sigh his name.

He keeps going, taking his sweet time to explore what areas get reactions from you, though he's quick to learn that every touch, every kiss, every gentle probe of the tongue... all of it is slowly undoing you to the point of madness.

With a hooked finger pulling your panties aside, Doctor Reid sighs into your thigh.

"Are you ready for it, pretty girl?"

All you can manage is the most whiny, whorish "Uh-huh," to the air. It echoes brightly and rings in your ears long after the moment, time seeming to stop right as his tongue comes in contact with your dripping heat.

The sensation is hot and sharp, and never ending. After what seems like forever, the tip of his tongue finally comes up and swiftly flicks your clit before he repeats the entire motion, like a wave crashing over the shore, and that's when your body finally releases all its tension.

You hadn't even realized you were so tense. Your fingers release their grip on the thin sheet beneath you and your chest sighs of relief, and that's when you feel yourself finally start to breathe. Head spinning, the sensations happening below you are coming into sharp clarity.

Spencer's tongue is relentless, leaving no crevice untouched by pleasureful curiosity. But you barely even have time to wonder if he might be enjoying himself more than you are, because all thought at all completely disappears the very moment his lips gather around your clit, sucking softly as he groans.

"Ohhhh my god..."

You're unable to keep your hips from grinding into his mouth. Still, he persists, cycling between sucking and licking and kissing, and it takes everything you have not to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair.

"You taste so fucking good," he sighs, coming up for air for a second. Then he kisses you again and repeats himself. "You're so good..."

This time you do reach down for his head, brushing the stray strands away from his forehead as he looks up at you. He pauses his ministrations, and his tongue's absence is sorely missed in feeling but a pleasure to the eyes as he runs it over his bottom lip in a slow, almost predatory nature.

"I'm going to slowly add a finger, is that okay?"

The thought admittedly panics you, flashbacks of pain and disappointment and embarrassment barging in and nearly ruining the moment. But Spencer can tell, his head tilting into your thigh again until it makes contact. His hair tickles and sends a shiver over your limb as he uses his hands to rub gentle, reassuring circles into your skin.

"We don't have to. I can keep doing it just like this if you prefer. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

The words shoot straight to your core, which sparks the realization that your previous encounter with sex was nothing like this at all. Not only in situation, obviously, but in feeling as well. You were excited to do it the first time, sure, but the build-up was pretty much non-existent. And now here you've been, pining away at this man for weeks, reawakening your libido and engaging in the longest game of foreplay known to man.

You have this very moment to show for it, your entire body humming with want and your worries slowly melting away under Doctor Reid's careful yet eager exploration.

Where there had once been an absence of communication and genuine care, now rests a bright and blossoming excess of it, in every touch and every pull of his eyes. It burns through you like a shot of whiskey, growing in sizzling warmth as it reaches every limb.

It's this new, odd and exciting comfort that urges you to tell him, "It's okay. You can do it."

You expect him to sigh in relief, grateful for your permission, but if he feels it he doesn't show it. Gentle hands continue caressing the underside of your thighs and he looks up at you. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I want it. I want your fingers inside of me, please."

Between the desperate emphasis in your nodding and the way your eyes are practically begging him, you've sealed your fate, a soft gasp reaching your throat when his middle finger slides through your opening and sends a rush of excitement over every plane of your body.

He doesn't enter you, but simply glides, up and down, like he's trying to soothe you.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"O-kay..."

Your breath shakes on the last syllable, his fingertip slowly disappearing inside you. He takes his sweet time, one knuckle, then two, and then he's fully inside you, and it's not nearly as painful as the last time somebody had been there.

"Fuck, you're so warm..." His eyes search yours for a moment before he sighs and lowers his head. "So beautiful..." And then his mouth is on you again, his compliment muffled by the essence of your pleasure, and your head is thrown back in an instant.

As his finger kindly allows you to adjust to its residence, experimentally moving in and out, his tongue continues to lap at your clit, and both sensations together are a bit odd but not unwelcome. You're slowly getting used to the fullness, yet something in you aches for more...

Maybe it's in your sighs, or the way your hands claw at the sheets, or perhaps he simply just knows you that well, but either way, Spencer knows.

He adds another finger, slowly and without an ounce of resistance from your body, and when you sigh out this time, it's of relief. You smile through it, allowing yourself to revel in the feeling of something new and erotic and exciting. Every whimper that falls from your lips is prideful and maybe even a bit exaggerated, but it's entirely worth it if only for the encouragement it seems to give Doctor Reid to keep going.

After a while of letting you get used to the feeling, he pulls back and twists his palm up before he enters you again, slowly as he says, "You're taking them so well... I'm proud of you, love..."

His fingers are in as far as they can go, and then they curve up just right, and you gasp.

"That feel good?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Yeah?" he coos proudly, starting a rhythm with his fingers that has you crying out in unbelievable pleasure. You're quickly reaching a peak again, every sensation from the fullness of his fingers and the way they twist and curl inside you to the sounds he makes as he kisses and sucks at your clit sending you into overdrive.

Dizziness starts to swarm you and your body can't handle it. Rather than fight this tight, new feeling brewing at each stroke of his fingers, you embrace it with deep breaths and cries out into the air, and then it snaps inside you.

Doctor Reid manages to keep your legs open as he works you through it, though you're not sure how you haven't crushed him yet. Everything feels tight and sharp and blindingly good—it feels like something that would take an army to keep from closing in.

Still, he does it, holding you open and groaning his way through your orgasm. Your hands instinctively reach out to keep him there, clutching at his hair and holding on for dear life while you tremble and clench around him.

Galaxies dance vividly behind your eyelids for what feels like eons as the pleasure bursts through you like a display of shooting stars, until eventually it subsides and your body feels extremely tired.

"Mmm, see? No trouble at all." He removes his fingers and continues to lazily make out with your cunt through small aftershocks of overstimulation, and then he's gone.

He gives you a few moments to collect yourself before he asks, "How do you feel?"

"Tired," you sigh with a smile, relaxing back with your eyes closed. You feel like you could take a nap. "But good. Very good."

His momentary silence intrigues you, so you flutter your eyes open and see that the heat in them hasn't subsided. In fact, it burns through him brightly as he prowls up the bed and climbs over your body until you're face-to-face. Something hard and hot and familiar rests firmly against your thigh and you choke on a whimper.

"Have you ever tasted yourself before?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow and prepare yourself. "No."

"Would you like to?"

And then without a second thought, your hands bring his face down to yours, and you embrace the subtle tang of your pleasure on his lips. He groans into your mouth, low and warm as his hips rut into your thigh.

The action sends you into overdrive, and suddenly you want to ask if you can return the favor, but Doctor Reid seems to have other ideas.

A finger delicately makes its way past your lips, seamlessly replacing his tongue, and you open your eyes again, nearly falling apart at the sight of him. The man is wild, eyes desperate for release as you suck on his finger, and then he adds another.

You clean him of your essence, sensual and enthusiastic in your maneuvers in a newfound confidence that wouldn't even exist now if not for him. So you treat this act as a reward to him, an act of gratitude, regardless of whether or not this session is technically all about discovering your likes and dislikes. If anything, you've learned that you like pleasing him. And so—if the constant friction between his bulge and your thigh is any indication—you'd have to say that his goal for today's session has been achieved tenfold.

"God, you're perfect," he huffs as his movements stutter and his hips still. You moan around his fingers, gliding your tongue in the space between them, and when he finally comes, he's choking out your name.

His weight gradually comes down on top of you, his fingers sliding out of your mouth and resting on your chest as he finds his composure. And then he's kissing your neck and your jaw, and each hot caress of his mouth at your pulse point feels like a reward of its own, an intimate form of affection made specifically for you.

Your name sighing past his lips and into your skin is proof enough of that; the lust is still there, sure, but it's laced with something else. Something softer.

As the breathing between the two of you slows, you comb through his hair with your fingers and sigh. An odd, pleasant feeling swirls around in your gut.

"Thank you, Doctor Reid."

"Mmm, you're very welcome," he murmurs into your skin, still nestled into the crook of your neck.

"For everything," you clarify. "A month ago, doing something like that would have felt impossible to even imagine, but... You make me feel safe, and cared for. And more importantly, you don't make me feel like I should be ashamed. Like there isn't actually something wrong with me. I don't know how to thank you enough for that."

When he pulls away, you almost think you might have scared him off, but the look in his eyes is anything but fearful. In fact, they practically shine like a glimmering lively lake as they search your own.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You're beautiful, and bright, and curious... And as long as you remember that, and you hold onto it, you will be just fine—no matter where you go, or... who you go to."

You shake your head, that feeling in your gut growing exponentially and the words flying out before you can stop them. "I don't want to go to anyone else. I only want you."

The look in his eyes deepens, almost a little melancholic in their intensity, close enough to that fear you were worried about earlier to make your heart beat faster.

"You don't mean that," he says, and you want to cry. Hell, you might, if that feeling in your stomach is speaking for something.

"Like hell I don't," you counter, cradling his head in your hands. "You're the first person I've actually wanted to be around in so long, and... Maybe it's twisted, maybe it's not right, but if there is anyone that I need, it's you. I won't even be your patient anymore if that makes up for it, I just want to see you. I trust you. More than I would trust any stranger."

When your name exits his lips, this time it's a gentle warning. Authoritative. But still sweet. Maybe even a little disappointed. "The purpose of these more... interactive sessions was to get you comfortable with trusting people with your body as much as you do... Seeing me and no one else would, in the end, defeat that purpose."

All feeling in your bloodstream curdles and starts to wither away with rejection. Embarrassment fizzles behind your eyelids as you close them, forming into tears that you try and will away until you're out of his sight. "You don't... actually want me..."

He tenses at your exclamation, and sighs. "That is absolutely not what I said. Look at me."

"Then... what?"

Spencer remains professional, but there's something hiding behind his eyes that longs to get out, you can see that. You can feel it too, as prominently as you feel your heart beating in your chest.

"As your therapist, it is in both of our best interests that I recommend you to try a night out. You don't have to sleep with anyone or do anything you're uncomfortable with, obviously, but... Based on what we've accomplished today, it is my professional opinion that you're ready for the next step."

So you're kicking me out, you cry dramatically in your head, even though you know it isn't true. Still, there's something inside you that doesn't want to let go— that can't. This connection you have with him is something strong and beautiful, something valuable. Something profound. You're not going down without a fight, until he is kicking you out of his office.

Your fingers glide down the side of his face and your eyes sharpen, studying his face with lustful reverence.

"And what are your thoughts as a man... and not my therapist?"

While you'd intended it more as a plea, your words seem to challenge him. Gone is the liberal professionalism, replaced with a familiar sly desire that ignites your heart and fills you with hope.

"As a man... it's impossible even trying to deny you..."

The words excite and warm you all over. You hum, nudging your nose to his and thinking aloud. "Mmm. After my hour is up and the day is long over... Maybe I should wander back to the parking lot and let a man take me home... As my therapist, d'you think that would count as a night out?"

You're relentlessly teasing him now, but he seems  alright with it, laughing dryly above you as his hands clutch your shirt and his hips shift firmly into your thigh again. "Haven't you gotten bold," he muses lowly, his mouth inching closer to yours.

"What can I say... You're very good at your job, Doctor."

"Mmm, you make it easy, love."

His lips are on yours soon after that, and with each tick of the clock your kisses grow hungrier.

Nothing escalates, but for the next fifteen-or-so minutes, your body remains buzzing with the ever-present energy of him, the knowledge that his presence has altered the course of your life forever, and the hope that the feeling is mutual.

Though, if the way he holds you and kisses you means anything, there is nothing to worry about in the slightest.

You leave his office that day feeling lighter, and while you're a far cry from where you were when you started seeing Doctor Reid, you're certain that by tomorrow you'll be a completely different woman.

[ravens-bird]

"You really want to test me right now?" - Zayne.

Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader/MC

Tags: Boyfriend Zayne, uh not-quite-smut smut, oral F!receiving, kissing, fingering, thought of adding semi-exhibitionism, but i have no brain juice left - it's literally 3am. "Love" used as nickname

wc: 1.5k.

Note: Y'all... Guess who just had a dream and decided to write this right after 😮‍💨 Definitely not proofread 🦦 (I don't know what happened, the post got fucked zo repost)

You arrive at Akso Hospital and make your way to the receptionist’s desk, finding Yvonne sorting through paperwork.

"Hey, Yvonne. Busy day?"

She sighs, rubbing her temples—a rare display of exhaustion. You quirk a brow.

"You have no idea," she mutters. "Between the long shifts and this mountain of paperwork, I could use a vacation."

You chuckle. "I bet. Speaking of rounds, do you know where Zayne is?"

"In his office. He just finished up his last patient visit, so he should be resting right now." Then, with a knowing glint in her eyes, she adds, "But he mentioned clocking out early today. I wonder why…"

A playful smirk tugs at your lips. "I might have an idea."

She grins. "Go on, then. Before something else comes up."

You thank her, and make your way up to his office, your heart picking up speed at the thought of finally seeing him after so long.

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Zayne—his business trip to Mt. Eternal with Dr. Noah had kept him away, and by the time he returned last night, you were already gone on a last-minute mission. This morning, he’d left for work before you even got home, and seeing him had been the only thing on your mind the whole day.

Naturally, the first thing you did after getting off work was come find him.

Stepping inside, your eyes land on him immediately.

Zayne is seated on the couch, his coat and glasses set aside, tie loosened as he leans back with his head resting against the cushions. Was he asleep?

You hesitate for a moment before softly calling his name.

He stirs, blinking up at you in surprise. That’s all the confirmation you need. In a heartbeat, you close the distance, launching yourself onto him before he can even stand.

Zayne grunts at the impact but recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around you as you settle into his lap. "You could’ve just said hello, you know."

You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the faint, yet familiar scent of his cologne. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I missed you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers squeezing gently. "I missed you too." His voice is softer now, more intimate. Then, amusement flickers in his eyes. "You’re awfully energetic for someone who spent the night hunting down wanderers."

You groan against his skin. "I should just kidnap you for the weekend."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Oh? And do what with me, exactly?"

You pull back slightly, to playfully glare at him. Before you can speak, he lightly presses the back of your neck to bring you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“How was your day?” he asks, kneading the back of your neck gently and you melt into his touch, instantly distracted.

“Tiring, but it wasn’t as serious as Tara had made it sound,” you sigh. While the clean-up itself had been a walk in the park, the travelling had been tedious, even with the faster and advanced motorcycles from the Association.

His eyes were bright, and he was looking at you so warmly that you couldn't help but beam at him.

"Yvonne said you were clocking out early." Your fingers find the loose knot of his tie, tugging playfully. "Any particular reason?"

His gaze dips to your lips before he clears his throat. "I figured we deserved a night in."

"Mmm." You hum, letting your hand drift from his tie to his chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath your fingertips. "You’ve been gone so long, Zayne. Do you know how hard it was to sleep alone?"

His jaw tenses slightly, but instead of addressing the obvious implication in your words, he exhales slowly, as if willing himself to stay composed. "We have chamomile tea at home. Studies show it can improve sleep quality with its mild sedative effects when taken before bed."

You blink up at him. Then a slow, sly smile spreads across your lips. "Chamomile tea?" Your fingers graze the fabric of his shirt, trailing lower. "Right, but that wouldn’t help."

His brows knit slightly. "The white noise machine in the bedroom has a setting that mimics rainfall—"

"Not the same as having you next to me."

Your voice is softer this time, but there’s no mistaking the way your fingers press against his chest, the way your body leans into his just enough to make your point.

His grip tightens slightly. "We are still at the hospital," he reminds you, though his voice lacks its usual firmness. "And you're making this difficult."

You smirk, tugging the tie loose until it comes off. "Am I?" You shift just enough for him to feel the friction, watching as his breath catches. "I’m not even doing anything."

The first button of his shirt comes undone beneath your touch, your nails grazing his collarbone.

His hand snaps up suddenly, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

"You really want to test me right now?" His voice is a quiet warning, laced with something dangerous.

Your pulse spikes.

"What if I say yes?"

For a moment, he just watches you, tension coiling between you like a drawn bowstring. Then, Zayne exhales slowly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin before he tilts his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath.

There’s nothing hesitant or soft about it this time.

A small gasp escapes you, and he swallows it greedily, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against him.

"You’re doing this on purpose," he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.

You don’t deny it.

When he finally pulls away, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he shifts beneath you, his hand trailing up your thigh and to your heat, rubbing you through the thin material of your pants.

"Zayne—" your voice hitches as his fingers press more firmly.

"Yes, love?" His tone is teasing, though his own breath is slightly uneven.

"What happened to being at the hospital?"

"You talk too much."

Before you could retort, he moves again, picking you up with startling ease and changing your positions until you're the one beneath him, pressed into the cushions. The feel of his weight against you, the press of his hips, and his growing arousal, makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

His fingers make quick work of the button of your pants after undoing your belt, pushing them down just enough before his hand dips between your thighs, his touch firm and teasing.

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking against his palm as he rubs you through your underwear. He watches you closely, his pupils blown wide with desire. His fingers slip beneath the last barrier of fabric. The sensation makes you whimper.

"So impatient," he speaks in a low voice, his voice a rough whisper as he presses down just right, making you arch into him.

"Zayne—"

He silences you with a heated kiss, swallowing every sound you make as he finger-fucks you. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you pinned as he builds a slow, torturous rhythm, his breath hot against your lips.

"Is this what you wanted?" His silken murmur makes you want to clench your thighs together, but he holds you in place, lips trailing down your throat. "Say it."

You barely manage to gasp out a needy "yes" before he rewards you with a deep stroke that has you trembling beneath him. His chuckle is dark, satisfied, as he continues his slow, deliberate pace, drawing every reaction from you with precise, practiced movements.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as the tension coils tight within you. You clench around his fingers, feeling the start of a wave of euphoria when he pulls his hand away, and a desperate, needy noise escapes you.

“Be patient,” he chastises, and you resist the urge to swear when he slides your pants down further, his fingers trail teasingly against your bare skin before he shifts downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh.

A strangled moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds you, his tongue stroking in slow, deliberate patterns that have your fingers twisting in his hair, your thighs trembling around him.

Zayne works you open with his mouth and fingers, his name falling from your lips in breathless gasps as he devours you with unrelenting focus.

“That’s it, love.” The roughness of his voice was so damn sexy. “Be a good girl, and come for me.”

That finally did it.

When you finally shatter, he groans against you, holding you in place as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

As you pant, still trembling, he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked onto you with something dangerously intent.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s already reaching for his belt, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. "We’re not done yet, love. You started this."

Masterlist

[woozivrsefactry]

Aight so my drunk ass last night write this and it's corny as hell but I'm still posting cuz why not. Happy soonhoon, jagiya-land.

[shit this is red too]

The two boys had approached you at a bar. Not to be judgemental but you could tell they were a couple. The tall blonde introduced them two. Flirted with you. The shorter one stayed close by, smirking, buying you drinks. Having two gay men swoon over you was not on your bingo list for tonight but we'll you weren't hating it. The shortie asked you, "are you open minded enough?" One thing led to the other and soon you were in a slick black SUV getting driven to a nearby hotel.

The raven head kept eye fucking you through the rear view mirror whole the blondie kissed you in the backseat. Y'all pushed thru the reception and into a room. The blonde was impatient tugging at your clothes. The other calmer holding back his boyfriend. Finally he kissed you. Slower, more sensual, more dirty. Spit and tongue everywhere.

Soon you were on the bed, naked, sitting between the black hair one, back-to-chest, his thighs engulfing yours while the blond was between your legs devouring you like the last supper.

"she taste good, soonie?"

"mmhn, so sweet, uji-ya."

"her tits are super good too," the raven said playing with your boobs. "Cum on his face"

And you did, with a broken cry, your weight falling backwards on the smooth fair chest behind you as the men giggled.

"already this tired? We haven't even fucked you yet baby."

You were given a few minutes break as the two men got on with putting on condoms. Kissing each other in ways that was already making you wet again. You'd really thought the shorter one was the top from all that energy but that thought flew out of the window as you saw him getting his ass lubed up. He climbed on top of you, pulling your legs in air till your knees rested over his shoulders.

"ready, baby?" He asks lining himself to you waiting for your reply. You barely manage a broken whine and he takes that sign to enter. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the stretch he gave you. Behind him his boyfriend lines up to him. Second blow came even harder when the blond penetrated him and him you. That's how it went.

"shit, she's really tight."

"ngh, so are you."

You werent sure who's hands went where but you had two hands playing with your tits while another one rubbed your clit as you got fucked to bliss.

"I think I'm gonna cum."

"me too, baby."

"me three?"

The two boys soon fall on either sides in your with a sigh and a thump.

"I swear to god soonyoung never say corny shit like that when you're in my ass. Again."

"ignore him, he's having post-orgasmic crisis or something like that."

"do you wanna be hit!?"

"you won't. You think I'm cute." The blonde grins as he cuddles up your side grinning.

The other one huffs and rolls his eyes. "Goddamn right, you're cute." He mutters under his breath making you giggle as he cuddles up your other side.

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter five

⭐︎ Watching cityscapes turn to dust

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, gore, mentions of killing (zombies?), post apocalypse au, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You find out the truth's of this world, ones you weren't prepared for.

Word count: 5.1k

Author's note: This one is a little emotional... but Steve and Sunshine are finally getting closer. Also @hellfire--cult wrote the whole upside down conversation part and everything that came after, y'all are gonna squeal the way I did when you read a specific part aaaahhh

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“See this? Eucalyptus. If we run out of toilet paper, we can use this as a replacement.” 

Steve scrunches his nose, staring at the plant that you are picking apart now, gathering the leaves and stuffing them into your bag. 

“You’re telling me I can wipe my ass with a plant?” He asks, not sounding convinced of your words. 

“A leaf, but yes. It’s non irritating and soft. Koalas not only eat it but use it as such.” You explain without looking back at him, continuing to pick at the plant. You were hoping to find some mulberries or chokeberries out here but instead you stumbled upon this. 

Steve nods at your words, a small smile grazes his face, “is there something you don’t know?” 

Your braid falls to the side when you turn to face him. In all this time since you have been on the road, he hasn’t seen you with your hair open once, it’s always in a braid or a ponytail but never open. 

You give him a sheepish smile and a small shrug, “...math.” 

His eyes crinkle when he smiles, a low chuckle falls from his lips, “alright.” He furrows his eyebrows when he sees the amount of leaves you are stuffing into your backpack, “what’re you gonna do with all that?”

You zip the bag and throw the strap over your shoulder again, adjusting the backpack before you bend down to pick up your machete again, shrugging at him, “it can be used for a lot of things! We can put some in the shower for the good smell, we can make some tea with it or use it as a decongestant if someone gets sick.”

Steve nods again, he starts walking beside you, looking down at you with curious eyes. He is impressed by your knowledge. His first impression of you was false, he thought you were a clueless, lost girl, someone doomed to die in a world like this but it turned out that you know more than he thought.

You showed him how to build a water filter from scratch, you know what berries are edible and which are poisonous, you know your way around medicine, you’re fast on your feet and your reactions are quick. He is not so convinced that you are much of a fighter or that those knives strapped to your belt have ever been used for anything other than cutting fruit or opening cans. Your arms seem weak, they shake every time you lift heavy things, he can’t imagine how you have gotten yourself out of certain situations before but you know how to survive, he knows that now too. 

“I was hoping to find some berries, we could’ve made jam, we still got a bunch of sugar.” You speak quietly, looking around the trees around you, careful not to miss anything creeping up on the both of you. 

“I’m sure we’ll find some soon,” Steve murmurs as he keeps a tight hold on his rifle. He looks up into the sky, noticing the dark clouds. “It’s getting darker earlier now.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh with a frown on your face. “I don’t like it, it means that winter is coming.” 

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll make it to California sooner rather than later.” 

You hum, giving him a skeptic look, shrugging. 

That look on your face surprises him, amuses him even, he can’t help but chuckle, “is that pessimism I see on your face, sunshine?” 

“Never!” You chuckle and nudge him with your hand. “I’m just being realistic–”

“What every pessimist says ever,” he laughs, shaking his head. 

“No, I’m just experienced, Steve! It took me a while to even get here, there’s a lot of things that get in the way, obstacles. Sometimes you gotta do detours, there are a lot of towns and cities you have to avoid, that unfortunately makes the journey longer.”

“How do we know what places to avoid though?” Steve frowns, looking down at you curiously. 

“Well, big cities and everything around it, those places were bombed, remember? When the government and the military still thought that they could prevent this from happening… whatever the hell this is.” You mumble, gesturing to some of the rotten plants you’re passing by. 

“Right,” Steve mumbles and looks down. He sometimes forgets that you don’t know what caused the end of the world. He hasn’t told you yet, Nancy and Eddie haven’t either.

“It’s dangerous there, they thought they could take out those monsters that way but they only made it worse, cities are crawling with those things, along with infected people.”

He didn’t know. He was stuck in Hawkins since the beginning of the end, he never turned on the radio until you, he never even thought about what happened to the rest of the world, he was stuck in that town, he was busy grieving her. 

“How do you know?” He asks, glancing at you. 

You continue to look ahead, taking a deep breath before you open your mouth. 

“I got myself in deep shit when I took a detour to Washington DC. I ran into a couple who told me about a refugee camp in DC. I should’ve known it was a mistake to change my route and go there but it was only the beginning of everything and I was alone and scared, I wasn’t thinking.”

“What happened?”

You look down as your lips curl downwards, wincing a bit. 

“The place was crawling with infected people, it was overrun. I tried to go back, take the same way out and get back on my old route but… I swear it was a blink of an eye moment and those things had me surrounded.”

Steve frowns, his breathing becomes a little shaky as he thinks of the fear you must’ve felt when death was creeping up on you. 

“How’d you get out?”

“I had to fight my way out,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes, revealing the mark it left on you as you allow him to look into your eyes. “It was the first time I had to kill sick ones.” 

He can see it wasn’t easy on you, it’s written all over your face. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and then it took forever to get out of there. The city was crawling with infected, with monsters, everything. Not to mention that most buildings were falling apart and it wasn’t easy to find places to hide.”

As you continue to tell him how you got out of the city of horror, Steve realizes that you have seen far more than he has. He might’ve been roped into the upside down years ago, he might know more but you have made experiences that he was spared from. That you have encountered things that he can’t even think of. 

Shivers ran down his spine when he overheard your conversation with Eddie back in Hawkins, knowing how it could have ended for you makes him feel sick still when he thinks about it. 

“I have avoided cities and big towns ever since. The journey is longer that way but safer.” 

Steve nods. 

“Guess it’ll take a while for us to get to California then.” Steve mumbles, spotting the RV in the distance and the small fire Eddie had made. 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be tough with the cold weather but as long as we stock up on everything, we’ll be fine.” You shrug, surprising him with how relaxed you seem about all the things that he feels anxious about. 

“Let’s hope we’ll find enough lakes on the way so we can keep filling up our water tank.” 

You always make sure that the water tank in the RV is filled so the shower and the toilet can be used but you save up on it as much as you can. Bathing in the lakes is getting more impossible by the second, the water turning colder and colder, but it works for hair washes and quick cleaning on the most needed areas.

“Yeah and let’s hope they won’t be frozen or else we’ll have to use snow and baby wipes to clean up,” you chuckle. 

“If there is gonna be any snow,” Steve points out. 

“I’m sure there will be, so we better find some warm clothes, you can’t walk around in this leather jacket,” you gesture to his trusted brown jacket. “You’ll freeze to death.” 

He shakes his head as he looks down at the flannel you are wearing, “funny coming from you, you’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“This thing is warm!” You argue, tugging your flannel closer to your body. 

“Yeah right, that’s why you’re shivering!” 

“Am not!” 

Eddie looks up at the both of you, grinning a little when he sees how close you two are walking next to each other. 

“Don’t you dare say anything right now,” Nancy warns him as she stirs the soup in the pot, giving him a strict look. 

Eddie sinks deeper into his camping chair, his eyes flash with amusement when he turns to Nancy, “wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Nancy knows her friend well, she knew he was going to say something to tease Steve, something that would’ve only made him tense again and she doesn’t want that, not when you two are starting to get along. 

“Mhmm sure, Munson.” 

Eddie takes another look at the two of you before he leans closer to Nancy, “but he is smiling.”

Nancy tries to be subtle when she looks towards you and Steve. He is grimacing. She has to admit, it’s funny to watch your interactions with him, how you talk his ear off, trying to get him to smile or even laugh – it’s a challenge, he doesn’t smile very often these days, let alone laugh. It’s cute how you keep trying though. 

“Don’t mention it to him or he’ll stop.” 

Eddie snorts and leans back again, his eyes sparkle and a grin appears on his face when you wave at him. 

“Hey, what’d you got there?” He raises his eyebrows at your backpack. “Did you find your berries?”

“No, unfortunately not but we found some eucalyptus!” 

“Ah, nature’s toilet paper!” Eddie grins. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at him, he stops beside you and places his hands on his hips. 

“How’d you know?” 

Eddie tilts his head to the side, placing his hand on his chest in offense, “I don’t like that surprised look on your face, Harrington. Why wouldn’t I know?”

Steve shrugs, “maybe because you don’t look like a guy who’s into plants?” 

“That’s very offensive considering I used to sell ‘em.”

Nancy snorts and shakes her head. 

You straighten your back, eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“You sold plants!?” You ask, smiling brightly. 

Steve shakes his head, chuckling at the look of enthusiasm on your face, “no, he–”

“Why yes, sweetheart. I sold all the good greens,” Eddie grins. 

When Steve and Nancy shake their heads at him again, laughing, and Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement, you realize that you are missing something, an inside joke that you don’t get. 

Nancy notices how your head is tilted to the side, your lips curled downwards as your eyebrows knit together. 

“Alright,” you shrug, throwing your backpack down and your machete next to it. You plop down on your camping chair, scooting closer to catch the warmth of the fire. The smell of soup filling the air around you, making your stomach grumble in anticipation. “Is that chicken noodle soup?” 

“Yeah with fresh chicken and everything,” Eddie nods, watching as Nancy pours you the first bowl. 

You give him a deadpan look, eyes flickering back and forth between his and the empty cans of soup in the grass. 

He chuckles at you, handing another empty bowl to Nancy. 

Steve is still standing, looking around, looking through the trees and over the large field. He is gripping his rifle tightly still. 

“Dude, sit down, we’re safe here.” Eddie tells him. “We checked the area, it’s clean.” 

You look up at the brunette, noticing the worried look on his face. 

“Yeah, it’s safe, you saw for yourself, Steve. The forest is green.” 

He nods, though still unsure. He takes another look around before he sits down beside you. A sigh falls from his lips as he takes the rifle off his shoulder, placing it down on the grass. 

You’re right, the forest is green, no vines or rotten plants around, no ashes covering the ground. Places like these are usually safe from monsters. Usually. Steve can’t ever rest, no matter how safe they look or feel. 

“Here.” Eddie pulls him out of his thoughts, handing him the bowl filled with soup. 

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs, giving him a tight lipped smile as he takes it from his hands. He glances at you, your bowl is on your lap, the spoon in your hand as you stir the hot soup. A strand of your hair falls in front of your eye and you try to blow it away but to no avail. His hand itches, fingers twitching. He tears his eyes away from you, looking down at his dinner instead, and he begins to eat in silence. 

“Hey,” Eddie nudges his chin at you, eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your machete on the ground. 

“Yeah?” 

“Have you ever actually used that thing?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side. 

Steve watches you from the side, curiously. You look confused, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled downwards. 

“Uh, yeah…” You murmur. “Why?”

How could you have survived without it? It would’ve been a miracle if you didn’t have to use it. 

Nancy raises her eyebrows at Eddie, she hugs her blanket tighter around her shoulders, sipping the soup from her spoon. 

Eddie shrugs. He knows you’ve had to fight at some point, to kill, you wouldn’t have survived for so long if you didn’t. Yet he can’t imagine you lifting that thing to kill something or someone, not because you are weak or incapable, he just thinks that you are soft – too soft to kill, even monsters. You are the type to pull away, to run, to hide, to fight but not to kill. 

You look into his brown eyes, trying to find the look of judgment in them but you can’t, just curiosity, nothing more or less. 

“Just haven’t seen you use it, that’s all.” 

“Yeah and I’m relieved about that, Eddie! It means we avoided danger successfully. I really hate using it.” 

Nancy nods at you, smiling. 

You’ve been on the road for nearly two weeks and it’s been nothing but a wasteland – empty roads, empty towns, empty houses. Nothing but the ghost of what the world once was. You haven’t come across monsters or infected yet, not even people. It’s almost as if everything disappeared completely but the screeches of the bats at night remind you of the danger still out there. It’s only a matter of time until you run into something or… someone. You got lucky so far but how long will luck stay on your side? 

“Well, the same goes to you all,” you shrug. “I haven’t seen you use your axe, Eddie. I also haven’t seen you use that bat, Steve.”

Nancy chuckles when you challenge them both, leaving her out of it. 

“Are you doubting my axe wielding skills, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, smiling in amusement. 

“Are you doubting me and my machete?” You retort, glaring at him playfully to which Steve chuckles, smiling at the look on your face. 

“Hell no,” Eddie shakes his head, “I was just curious! I don’t doubt you at all, I bet there’s a cold blooded killer behind that cute face.” He smirks, winking at you. 

Your eyes widen and heat rises to your cheeks as you grow flustered. 

Eddie’s eyes fill with pride when he notices your reaction, he can’t help but chuckle softly. He glances at Steve who rolls his eyes. 

“What about you, Steve?” Eddie grins. “When was the last time you used your bat?” 

Steve shrugs. 

As he thinks about it, he realizes that it’s been a long time since it was used. He relied on the axe that Eddie stole from him and the rifle Hopper gave to him on the day he left, on the day they were all supposed to leave. He didn’t even pack the bat then, Robin did. That’s the reason why he took it with him nearly two weeks ago. 

“Probably in ‘84.” He mumbles without thinking. “When Dustin and I went looking for Dart after he ate his cat.”

His words sink in slowly and it takes you a moment to fully realize what he just said. 

Nancy straightens her back as she notices the line between your eyebrows and the way you slowly put your spoon down into your half empty bowl. She looks at Steve who hasn’t even realized what he just said as he keeps eating his soup. 

“‘84?” You mumble, turning your body to face Steve. “What…?” 

Steve’s eyes bore into the grass, his forehead puckers, his heart sinks a little. 

“A what ate Dustin’s cat!?” 

You look bewildered, completely mortified as those images must run through your mind. The situation is not funny at all but the look on your face is and Eddie can’t help but chuckle, something that earns him a punch to his arm from the girl beside him. 

Nancy glares at him. 

“Goddamn, woman,” Eddie hisses at her, rubbing his arm. 

Steve can feel your eyes on him, your intense stare. He slowly looks up, turning towards you. 

They haven’t told you anything, you are just as clueless as the rest of the world is or what remains of it. To you, the world just flipped over. A mysterious virus wiped out more than half of the earth’s population. The sickness spread and people started turning into monsters. Monsters crawled out of hell or fell from the sky as many believed. He remembers all the things said about the upside down creatures, he remembers how some called them demons while others called them aliens. 

They didn’t mean to hide it from you, to hold back the truth. The conversation never came up and they also didn’t know how to explain it all to you without sounding like they had gone insane. 

Where would they even start? 

Would you even believe them? 

“Uh…” Steve panics a bit, turning to face Eddie, looking at him for help but the metalhead only shrugs at him. He glances at Nancy who seems to enjoy his struggle. She shrugs at him too, giving him a look that says ‘go ahead’. 

He hates this and even more so, he hates the smug looks on his friends’ faces. 

For a moment it’s quiet, nothing but the crackling of the fire filling the space. 

“What do you mean?” Your voice pulls his attention back on you. Your eyes are filled with confusion, your lips slightly parted. 

Steve takes a deep breath. 

He knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later, he just didn’t think that he would have to be the one to explain this world to you. He is not good at these things. 

With a sigh he leans down, placing the bowl on the grass before he leans back again, turning his body towards you. 

Where does he even begin? 

He clears his throat, glaring at Eddie when he cackles. 

“I uh… listen, what I’m about to tell you is gonna sound… crazy.” 

“Can’t get crazier than this,” you chuckle nervously. 

Steve smiles a little, taking another deep breath. 

“Well, this has been going on for longer than you think.”

You narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head a little. 

“I’m not following…”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, he looks back and forth between your eyes and the fire, unable to find the right words. 

“The uh…” He pauses, clenching his jaw. “Fuck…” He whispers. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs loudly. “You’re the worst storyteller ever, dude!” 

“Well, why don’t you tell her, Munson!?” Steve snaps in frustration, huffing loudly. 

“I might be the master of story telling thanks to being a Dungeon Master… but I wasn’t in this shit from the very beginning.” Eddie says with another shrug and a cocky smile on his face which makes Steve sigh and roll his eyes. Your attention goes back to the brunette, your head tilted, ready to listen.

“There… There’s another dimension.” Steve starts and Nancy now knows it’s gonna be a long story, looking down at her bowl and continuing eating.

“Another dimension? Like a parallel universe or something?” You ask and Steve scrunches up his nose.

“Not exactly. It’s this world but a more… devastated version. What you saw back in Hawkins, it’s not as bad as it is in that dimension.” You were getting lost now, his words not making any sense and he noticed it in your face. “This started back in 1983…”

You listened. 

For the first time in weeks, you sat there without any words coming out of your mouth except for a few questions, letting Steve talk. Nancy gave her input every now and then. They told you everything… from beginning to end. How one of the teens got taken away, how one of them was an experiment, how the others solved the mystery, how the government was involved, then–

“Wait… so… the Russians… they did what to you?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, looking at you.

“Kidnapped me and Robin, almost beat me to death and then they drugged us, thinking we would spill the beans or something.” He chuckles and your eyes were just glued on him, a worried frown in your eyebrows. His laugh ceased as he looked at you completely confused. “What?”

“Are you okay?” 

He blinked a few times at that. It’s something that had happened years ago, back in 1985… Robin was one of the only people who asked. Dustin… then everyone saw him and the one thing that they asked was ‘what happened?’. You, years later, when his bruises are no longer there, maybe a scar on his lip from it that is barely visible… you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t know how to answer, completely taken aback by your question. Eddie notices, clearing his throat, which makes you turn your head at him.

“He is perfectly fine as you can see. Annoyingly so.” He comments and Steve is a little grateful for your attention, for your care, to no longer be directed at him. He cracks his neck a bit, not noticing the eyes of the other girl sitting in the circle, who is holding back a smile.

“So… After that, we came to find out so many other things… one in particular was that this whole thing, this whole… dimension, not only was opened by El, but another person got sucked in it… A dangerous person.” Your eyes went back to Steve as he continued his explanation. 

You couldn’t believe this was all done by a single entity, a thing that was once human, a monster that was once a child. He explained how the gates worked, how the craters were created and then… your eyes landed on Eddie as Steve told you about the final battle. 

“We thought we hadn’t killed him… but then– El told us he was dead. She could see him dying in his mind… but he didn’t leave without a parting gift.” Eddie states as he looks at his arms, seeing the scars and then back at you. “With the craters open, he gave one last order.”

“What was that?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, your attention back to him.

“To take over this side. To bring the Upside Down… up.” 

You didn’t know how to react now. Your eyes drifted to the floor. They have been in this war for so long. For years. Kids. Fucking kids were involved in this and you just felt anger. Good people were involved in something that should have been dealt with by adults. The people who died, they recounted each one of them, but your eyes were on Nancy, who was looking at the horizon, as if absent minded.

She lost her best friend to this monster… and her father.

Steve lost his soulmate… Eddie almost lost his own life… They all almost died at some point and– it was hard to imagine that while they were suffering like this, when they were fighting and getting beaten up… you were picking up sunflowers with your parents. You were off partying. You were out with friends or going to concerts.

It felt unfair. You feel so guilty for some reason. You feel guilty for having had the time to be a proper teenager. To have a proper childhood. To have a family while theirs started to break apart slowly. The scars they all have, on their skin, on their minds, on their hearts… you don’t think you will ever comprehend. You won’t ever understand that pain. 

“Sweetheart…” You heard Eddie calling you, but you were still shocked, the information dawning on you, and then– you flinched slightly when a thumb grazed your cheek, making you look to the side to see Steve, worriedly looking at you as he wiped something off your face.

“You don’t need to cry…” He softly spoke to you and… cry? You shook your head to get out of your shock, at least a bit, and you raised your hand to touch your right cheek and– You were crying. Tears fell down your eyes and you didn’t even notice it. Your heart felt as if someone was crushing it in their bare hands and your stomach was in a tight knot as Steve’s words kept replaying in your head.

“How… How can I not cry?” Your reaction was not something they expected. They expected you to yell in fear, or to appear nervous, or to be at least a bit skeptical of their story… but you were crying. Eddie’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, your eyes finding his. 

“Why? We’re here… we’re alive.” He says with a soft smile, but you shake your head, the lump in your throat bigger than ever.

“Your lives were ripped away from you… normal lives… Your friends… family– How can I not cry?” And it dawned on them. They haven’t thought of it that way, not once they stopped and regretted or wished for things to be different. But now, the thoughts linger… if the upside down never happened, or they never interfered… where would they be right now?

“It… it made us who we are now.” Nancy tries talking, not wanting to show how her voice started to break. Your tears kept coming down as you tried to nod, yet it didn’t erase the sadness. It didn’t erase how bad you felt.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry this happened to all of you…” Your eyes fell on Steve. His eyes were red as well as the other two people in the circle. Soon, you weren’t the only one shedding tears. They all sat, looking at the fire in the middle, letting the world sink in. Letting their story be heard by themselves this time. 

“Wow, sweets… thought we were done crying over this but damn, you come along and break the fucking dam.” Eddie jokes as he wipes his tears away, a wet chuckle escaping him and Nancy barely smiles, wiping her own tears, sniffling. You looked at him, a small smile on your lips as you saw him trying to diffuse the tension.

“We can’t afford to cry, we have to save our water and our hydration.” She says as joke, which makes you and Eddie chuckle. Your eyes turned to the one person who was still silent, looking at the firepit. Your smile fell a bit and you hesitantly raised your hand up and you returned his gesture. You wiped the stray tear that fell down his cheek but he didn’t flinch away from you. He wasn’t startled.

Steve looked at you as you retreated your hand back to your lap. He gave a few blink as he gulped the lump that formed in his throat. You were a nuisance. He knew that. You were making him have emotions he thought he was better without, and now…

“Thank you.” He softly spoke, and you gave him a small smile in answer. He reciprocates the gesture, the sadness slowly leaving his body as warmth fills his body once more. It was better to blame the fire for that. 

He wanted to hate you for what you were doing to him. But he couldn’t help but thank you… because having these feelings, these emotions, reminded him of who he once was. With Dustin. With the other teens. With Robin. He’s once again vulnerable, but being able to laugh with Eddie, with Nancy… and you… He doesn’t want to lose that again. 

“Don’t want to break the cute and intimate moment, but the chicken soup– I think it was fucking expired–” And all of your eyes widened as the loudest thing was heard through the field. Eddie’s face reddened as he cleared his throat. “That– I bet it was a demogorgon.”

The first to break was Steve. He laughed loudly, cackled, grabbing his belly as his face reddened from the strain of his laughter. Eddie had just let out a huge fart that echoed against the very far trees. You instantly followed as well as Nancy, all of you almost falling off the chair as Eddie scrambled up, rushing to get toilet paper inside the RV.

“IT’S NOT GONNA BE FUNNY WHEN IT HAPPENS TO THE THREE OF YOU!” You all heard him yell as now tears of laughter and joy escaped your eyes, your head hurting a bit from how hard you were laughing, pretty sure Steve was in the same or worse situation as you were because his was the loudest.

You all saw Eddie rush out with the small shovel and the toilet paper, running towards the woods, and your eyes caught on Steve. It was the first time you saw all of his teeth. His mouth wide with laughter, his eyes clenched, his hand on his belly as he complained it was hurting. Nancy’s own laughter was like a background noise, the volume was low on her, while Steve’s was on high.

You hoped to see him like this more often. He looked… good like this.

He looks good when he is happy.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[shantechni]

Some of my observations about Link Click: Yingdu Chapter

⚠️Spoilers for S1, S2, & Yingdu Chapter, but mostly the Yingdu Chapter⚠️

Now that the final episode has aired and finished with a bang, I can properly start another observation and theory post without the threat of immediately being proven wrong💀As per usual, feel free to correct me on anything and add your own info should I not include it.

A post-Bridon interview between director Li Haoling and Hui Xiao Hui revealed that Xia Fei held onto the cat ears hat the whole time and returned it to Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang.

That same interview also had the director hinting at the possibility of Liu Xiao having more than one power, along with the fact that Liu Xiao has planned everything early on and that S3 will reveal his motives.

Considering Li Haoling's comment about the three ways someone could inherit powers (1: genetics, 2: passed through death, and 3: killing to steal), this could mean Liu Xiao has either received a power by having it passed to him from someone on their death bed, killed someone for their power, or is genuinely adopted, chat did y'all manifest this—

One major reveal from the interview was the confirmation of Lu Guang having looped through one timeline, not branching off and jumping to new timelines as many (including myself) grew to believe. A.k.a., there are no parallel universes or multiple timelines. I went over this in the notes, but imagine overwriting a cassette tape or hitting the reset button on a device.

Though there are still a number of discrepancies this fact fails to explain or clear up, Shao Yuanyuan telling Cheng Xiaoshi to not concern himself with investigating her and his father lends credence to him not knowing where they are or when they're coming back in S1.

The person Vein speaks to over the phone certainly isn't Liu Xiao, namely because Liu Xiao spends half of the episode playing faux Tetris on his phone, but also because Vein strictly uses English while on the phone with this mystery person. Perhaps he was in contact with someone associated with Yingdu's Chinese Chamber of Commerce (Vein is the leader after all), or simply an unknown figure that he has ties with and was informed by that person that Wang Qing has possession of the notebook.

Late addition: the show speaks for itself, but Vein needed Wang Qing's student ID, along with any other bits of information Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi discovered about her, to track her down with the help of whoever he remained in contact with.

Another late addition: It's been confirmed in the interview that Vein wants Cheng Weimin's book for himself, just like Liu Xiao.

Wang Qing's power involves faking death, something that's been hinted at by her student ID number translating to "fake death ability user."

The information of Wang Qing's classmates has been blurred out, but it's all unique text and some of it can even be made out. The pages for Amy and Blair (the girls that bullied Wang Qing) appear briefly, and though Amy's information is harder to make out, Blair's is somewhat discernable.

The kid that used his power during the test also appears, but the most that can be made out from his page is a middle initial. It should also be noted that Wang Qing had the most absences among the students we saw pages for, and that Cheng Weimin wrote, "Intervention needed," on her page.

We finally know the fates of Cheng Xiaoshi's parents. While Cheng Weimin is certainly dead from the fire at Bahati (confirmed by the ISBN number of the Sonnet Shakespeare book), Shao Yuanyuan is still alive somewhere.

Shao Yuanyuan's use of possession through a photo confirms that Cheng Xiaoshi received his ability through genetics. While we don't know if she is the original holder of the power or if she gained the power from Cheng Weimin after he died, it's clear Cheng Xiaoshi gained his power from either of his parents.

Li Haoling confirmed that death results in the passing of one's power, meaning there's a chance Lu Guang can still possess someone through a photo they took. But while it certainly appears that Lu Guang possessed Wang Qing and used her fake death power on Vein, it doesn't explain how he could've possessed her without having a photo she'd taken in that very moment (Shao Yuanyuan received the photo she took of Cheng Xiaoshi and possesed her that way). Edit two days later: a new video of an interview had Liu Haoling confirming that Lu Guang did not possess Wang Qing

One user on Twitter pointed out a detail on Liu Xiao's phone: the date on his phone is not the current date in Yingdu (June 2019). They also stated, "This is the evening, probably around 5 pm, which would be the same time as 00:05 September 13 in China."

While the above point could be an error, it should be noted that a box of text appeared during Bilibili's and seemingly only Bilibili's version of the episode: "Three years later, after the Li twins case." This whole thread is interesting actually, give it a go.

Speaking of errors, Li Haoling stated that Cheng Xiaoshi's eyes being yellow as he and Lu Guang run from Vivian's situation in EP1 was an animation error. The entire season, particularly the earlier episodes, are riddled with errors like these, most likely due to the schedule changes (this season was originally set to premiere in April of 2025 at the latest but was rushed to Dec of 2024).

On the topic of dates, Lu Guang came to the reset timeline on April 11th and passes the 12 hour mark once the clock hits 5:32AM (meaning he possibly and originally met Cheng Xiaoshi four days prior to the guy's birthday).

Vein interestingly uses darts on Cheng Xiaoshi and Wang Qing rather than real bullets as he's done in the EP1 opener. It's also unknown if he's aware of powers, let alone that Shao Yuanyuan was in control of Wang Qing as they fought.

This is another late additon, but a fan on Twitter compiled a full timeline of S1, S2 and Yingdu, also heavily detailing a lot of the inconsistencies that's been plaguing the fandom in a concise manner.

It's implied that Wang Qing needs a person's real name in order to use her fake death power on them, though it's unclear how she knows Vein's real name.

For once we ended the season without a death, though we have no idea what happened to Xia Fei and his former colleague Jack, who were both reported to have recently gone missing after we cut back to Lu Guang in present day China.

CHENG XIAOSHI GOT THAT DUMPHY

Vein's real name is Xiao Weiying

Back to the book with the eye (the same book Cheng Weimin had in his desk), it's being heavily speculated that the book contains either classified information on the students of Bahati (particularly the ones with powers), or something deeper. Either way, Shao Yuanyuan's statement about the fire being started on purpose supports the idea of someone starting the fire in the hopes of grabbing the book while Cheng Weimin leaves it behind or dies.

The idea of it holding information on the students' powers, or simply being a catalogue of all of the powers Cheng Weimin has crossed paths with, seems likely with Liu Xiao potentially being another seeker of the notebook.

Liu Xiao was the one seen unzipping Vein's body bag in the post credits scene.

Qiao Ling asks why Cheng Xiaoshi changed the studio's name from "Hero Photo Studio" to "Time Photo Studio," and while he gives his indirect answer of being connected through time, we can infer that changing the name is his way of keeping his promise with his mother after leaving Bridon. To make things clearer, a flashback in S1E10 confirms that the name of the studio hadn't changed while Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling were renovating (which is also when Qiao Ling first meets Lu Guang).

Lu Guang hasn't blushed once in the Yingdu Chapter, but Cheng Xiaoshi has (which makes for a grand total of two blushes from Cheng Xiaoshi and a stagnant five for Lu Guang).

Li Haoling stated in the interview that Cheng Xiaoshi will die in 2022.

When asked if Xia Fei was a survivor of the Bahati fire, Li Haoling dodged the question.

Soon after the fire at Bahati took place, Shao Yuanyuan tasked Wang Qing with allowing her to speak with her son through her someday. Since Wang Qing was still a student and in the hospital at the time, this means she's remained in contact with Shao Yuanyuan for 10 years.

Li Haoling commented during the interview that Lu Guang doesn't know about Vein having come back to life.

He also stated that Shao Yuanyuan would have interactions with Lu Guang in S3.

Actually, here's a full thread of translations for the interview, and a slight summarization of what was said.

The artwork Bilibili released to commemorate the series reaching 700 million followers on their site has this message in the tweet: "The game between "Hunter" and "Mastermind" continues, turning over the cards in the mystery and throwing the final chip." We can infer from past context clues that Liu Xiao is the hunter and Lu Guang is the mastermind.

Cheng Xiaoshi volunteered to play the flower fairy in the third grade despite the role calling for a girl (among other embarrassing stories Shao Yuanyuan told to make Cheng Xiaoshi believe it's her in Wang Qing, she's quite the charcter).

Shao Yuanyuan's speech about saving Cheng Weimin implies she's on a similar journey as Lu Guang (they're both desperately trying to save someone they're close to by resetting the timeline).

Wang Qing goes by the alias "Chris" for her psychiatry business, though it's unknown if her business is still continuing after she disappeared with Cheng Weimin's book.

Considering Shao Yuanyuan's lines when she finds Cheng Weimin in the fire, she was likely not meant to be there at the time, and possibly confused Cheng Weimin. That would explain how blasé he appeared to be about leaving Cheng Xiaoshi in China, if we're to believe that Shao Yuanyuan would usually be in China with their kid while he's in Bridon at the language school.

Cheng Xiaoshi changed the background of his conversation with Xia Fei to a picture he took with him during their modeling gig.

Aight, my well has run dry, and once again I'm certain I'm forgetting something (definitely forgot to go more in depth with the two pieces of artwork that dropped around EP6's premiere), but I hope this is satisfactory in some regards. Again, correct me or add anything I may have missed, time for me to hunker down for the long 2+ year wait until S3 arrives😭