#so now i'm thinking about rewriting it and posting it here

[pleasantsleeper]

(affectionately)

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok's situation with Rieltar and the Iron Throne

There's a lot of room for guessing the details of Sarevok's life in the Iron Throne, but you have the outline of his situation. It's not as good as one might expect for the son of a leader, and it's vital in shaping his character. Sarevok becomes who he is because of his past and current situation. He's a character with depth, nuances, ambitions and motivations, not a flat, cardboard villain planted on his throne in an underground sewer, waiting for the murder race of 1492 DR.

This got way too long, you've been warned.

Because Baldur's Gate 1 has been out for so long, you tend to forget that Sarevok being the greater mastermind of the evil plot is a twist in the story. From the prologue, you know about the 'ominous figure', but not who he is, and it falls in the background when you get into the iron crisis- a crisis that has nothing to do with Gorion's ward. Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev, a leader within the Iron Throne. It's a criminal organization where Sarevok is a member, but not a leader. It should be a cushy position, but it isn't. Let's see why.

First, let's recall the setting of Sarevok being adopted by Rieltar:

Sarevok is a homeless, orphaned child. He describes himself as an 'urchin', meaning he likely resorted to stealing and other mischief to live on the streets.

Rieltar is a wealthy man, a 'higher-up' within the Iron Throne, a mercantile organization with shady practices, a gang of sorts, closer to bandits than merchants.

I don't think I need to spell out how dodgy the whole thing is.

How Sarevok gets adopted is left up to the player, but a few things are certain. Sarevok is part of a vulnerable population, while Rieltar is of the upper class. Sarevok has no person nor structure to turn to should he need help. As a child, he entirely depends on Rieltar. Hunger, thirst, housing, clothes, other material needs and various threats that comes with being a homeless child, all of this gets taken care of if Sarevok stays with Rieltar. It's priceless, and a child wouldn't think past no longer being cold or hungry. Sarevok is affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age, when he couldn't decide otherwise.

Sarevok is not a leader. it's his foster father, Rieltar, who is the leader of the western branch of the Iron Throne. The 'chief of operations'. He has two co-leaders with him, Brunos Costak and Thaldorn Tenhevich. Sarevok is the commander of their mercenary forces of the region, one of Rieltar's officer. Compared to Rieltar's own status, Sarevok's role is minor. There isn't as much nepotism going on as you might expect from a criminal organization passing off as a legitimate mercantile group.

The first time Sarevok is mentioned, he's a passing name in a letter found in the bandit camp, not a master mind- and that's how it was supposed to be.

Tazok, I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids, and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news. Davaeorn

It's the first hint you get that he isn't like the rest of the Iron Throne. His own focus is more on the mercenaries disrupting the iron plot, more than the plot itself.

One interesting thing here:

"You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news."

-> Davaeorn is threatening Tazok with Sarevok, but Davaeorn himself isn't worried. Davaeorn could be nervous that Sarevok, son of the big boss, may cause him trouble if he doesn't get what he wants, but he isn't. No reason to think Sarevok is anything more than another Throne member.

After defeating Davaeorn, you find letters on him from Rieltar himself. In one, Sarevok's role and title are clearly stated:

"Davaeorn, Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. Rieltar Flamerule, 1367"

It's not said in the letter that Sarevok is Rieltar's son. He is going to be named commander of the mercenary forces of the region. It's a new title, so I'd say his previous rank was equal or lower.

During your first stay in Baldur's Gate, you discover Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev. Being the son of a wealthy man explains how Sarevok manages to get within the noble circles of the city for his popularity campaign, which I talked about in another post. Here's one interesting thing I got from this:

"From what I've heard, the new man with the Iron Throne, Sarevok, is an unmarried man."

-> He's considered new, however, the story starts in Mirthul (May) 1368, and from Sarevok's diary and another letter, you know he's been in Baldur's Gate in 1366, went back to Sembia at some point, then returned in Flamerule (July) 1367. That's two years on and off the Sword Coast and almost one full year on it, not to mention he's been in the Throne since an early age, but he's seen as new.

Sarevok's presence may not be public because he's working with the bandits, however, not knowing about Rieltar's son is common. Yeslick Orothiar is a companion who moved to Sembia where he met Rieltar. He pretended to befriend Yeslick, then tortured him to learn the location of the Cloackwood mines. Yeslick was in Sembia, and he doesn't mention Sarevok, or recognizes him when he comes to the party under a false name. So it's not just in Baldur's Gate, even back in Sembia, before Sarevok was commander, Rieltar doesn't mention his foster son— or the fact that he has one.

It can be explained by how Rieltar and other higher-up of the Throne see Sarevok, both his capacities and how far he can go. One telling example is during the Candlekeep chapter. Gorion's ward is going after Rieltar, the big bad at the time. You can go to Rieltar with the advice of 'Koveras', who tells you Rieltar is defenceless and this is the perfect time to kill him. He even gives you a nice ring to protect you. If you start digging through Koveras' dialogue, you might find something's odd with him and decide you don't want the ring. Joke's on you, it won't change a damn thing. Don't be too quick to laugh at Sarevok for only switching his name backward to change identity, it worked on Charname and their whole party (also worked on me when I was ten and had a pikachu face during the reveal).

Rieltar is a lot quicker to catch up than Charname though.

"Koveras! Who is Kove... of course. It seems I taught my son all too well. Well, my young pups, you've been set up to be used as dupes. Koveras does not want what's best for you, but rather what's best for him."

-> There's a brief moment of outrage before Rieltar realizes who Koveras is. The realization doesn't anger him more, it makes him calm down. He doesn't see Sarevok as a threat. It's unlikely he thinks Sarevok's plan goes beyond killing him, when it's in fact much more elaborate than that. Other Throne members straight out of Sembia underestimate how dangerous Sarevok is.

Here are a few more examples:

"She seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base. He is thought of as an upstart"

Kalessia: I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has floundered [...]. Valdis (Charname): Why not ask Sarevok? He seems to be the one in control now. Kalessia: Sarevok? That upstart? Then the rumors I have heard are true. Our regional leaders here are dead and Sarevok has assumed their roles. Such arrogance! No doubt he has a hand in their demise, I'll wager. [..]

-> The outrage these criminals feel toward Sarevok's, well, criminal actions against them will never not be funny to me. Kalessia calls Sarevok an 'upstart'. She doesn't sound any more worried than Rieltar was, she sounds pissed that he would dare to do this. Also, she thinks he participated in the demise of their leaders, not that he orchestrated the whole thing. As if he isn't capable of it. I will stress this again, but Sarevok is the foster son of a high-ranking member of the Throne with wealth and influence. Yet, they talk about him as if he's of low rank. Somehow, I don't think the Iron Throne is a progressive organization that thinks wealth and social status shouldn't determine an individual's worth.

Later, inside the Undercity, you come across more people working for the Iron Throne. You get the following dialogue from two dialogue paths.

"We've been sent to hunt down Sarevok. Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way, including Rieltar, and the Throne don't take too well to having their high-ups killed."

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends. I am Rahvin, in the employ of the Iron Throne. My companions and I have traveled from Sembia to learn what has been happening to our operation in Baldur's Gate."

They're off to kill Sarevok. Just like that. Like he's just another guy with a bounty on his head. The twist of BG 1 is not only realizing Sarevok is the true antagonist, it's realizing Sarevok is not just a brute working for the Throne, he's a major threat to the Sword Coast and far from stupid. That's something characters who only know of Sarevok what is known in Sembia and have just arrived in Baldur's Gate don't realize. He has overthrown the entire leadership of the Iron Throne in the region, almost got the whole leadership of Baldur's Gate as well and they're simply going to 'hunt him down'. The way they talk about him is also telling:

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way"

-> He's talking about Sarevok as if he was a dog who went rabid, not someone who actively orchestrated the downfall of his employer.

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends."

-> Sarevok had the entire city eating out of his hand, he was about to be lawfully elected Grand Duke. Sarevok is skilled at making friends, when he needs them— and, when he has the right background to make the right friends. For example when he's known as the foster son of a wealthy business man without anyone knowing anything beyond that, like in Baldur's Gate. Something that's more complicated in Sembia, where people around him would already know he used to be a penniless urchin until Rieltar adopted him.

When you encounter characters working for Sarevok, rather than characters he works for, you get a different image of him, one that's closer to what you encounter in the game. There are two kinds, first, the zealots, those who already worship him as a new god.

"You have breached an inner circle, fool. There are no hired lackeys for you to bribe here [...]. We are servants of Sarevok and Sarevok alone, selected by hand to protect his destiny. [...] His will... be done!"

"So it has been decreed, so it shall be done. So orders Sarevok!"

-> Sarevok doesn't know how to make 'friends' in the strict sense of the term, but he knows how to be charismatic. He got servants to worship him before his actual godhood. These followers aren't part of the Throne, Sarevok independently recruited them to be his first faithful. Which is smart, considering gods in Forgotten Realms get stronger with more fervent and more numerous followers. Sarevok is planning ahead so he already has worshippers when he's a god.

If you played SoD (which is mid writing wise, but has good moments), you'll find that Sarevok's charisma struck again with other nondescripts fanatics.

"S. and I had a long talk last night. Everything he says make so much sense."

The other group of people are Sarevok's own underlings. These are mercenaries he recruited who are unaffiliated to the Iron Throne and only answer to him. You get interesting dialogue from Diarmid.

"Not a terribly original alias to be sure, but who is going to tell him that? Sarevok is quite used to getting his own way, and I gather subtlety is something that doesn't quite come naturally to him. He doesn't have the patience for it, though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces, though I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed. Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people. As underlings we can safely serve, but woe to those in a position he desires."

-> Is Diarmid scared of Sarevok? Yes. Does he respect him? Also yes, which increases the 'fear' part, I think.

Diarmid is a mercenary who's been working with Sarevok for weeks, maybe months. What he knows of Sarevok is surface level, but it doesn't match what other characters, who've been around Sarevok since Sembia know of him. Here are how different visions contradict each other:

"She [Kalessia] seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base." VS "[...] though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces [...]" / "Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people."

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way [...]" VS "[...] I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed." / "[...] woe to those in a position he desires."

Characters within the Throne are not supposed to know about Sarevok's plans, but they all react as if his behavior is an anomaly, they're blindsided. Yet, these plans match what Sarevok's mercenaries know of him: "have a tendency to only give information on a need-to-know basis"; "notoriously impatient"; "quite used to getting his own way"; "subtlety doesn't quite come naturally to him"; "his mind is amazingly tactical"; "highly motivated"; "woe to those in a position he desires"; "wouldn't sully his hands on those he didn't deem worthy of personally killing".

The Sembians's reaction is more understandable when you read the following letter, written by Sarevok to Rieltar. Sarevok's tone isn't what you would expect from him.

Father, I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by <Gorion's ward> will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations. It is as you had surmised: They were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with the Chill and the Blacktalons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

This letter reads like a dutiful son from start to finish. It's also a pack of lies from start to finish. Everything he says goes along Rieltar's own opinion, to placate him. The perfect son and officer, committed to his role. And it works, since Rieltar doesn't suspect Sarevok until he's told of 'Koveras'. You can assume the dutiful, uncompromising tone of the letter was the front Sarevok presented to Rieltar, and to other members of the Throne.

Reading Sarevok's diary, you see this is a front he has to present. Remember how Sarevok was named commander of the mercenary forces by Rieltar? Well, he wasn't even supposed to be part of his foster father's project.

"I have expressed interest to my 'father', and he has promised to include me within the operations along the Sword Coast. He mentioned Mother in our conversation: how I wasn't to be unfaithful to him as she had. He made it clear that I would suffer her fate if I was."

-> What a lovely father-son relationship. Anyways, if Rieltar had his way, Sarevok wouldn't have been commander, he would've left him in Sembia. Sarevok had to ask to be given a role. You'd expect the son a wealthy man to have a prime spot saved for him in his big project.

The next part of the excerpt is, in my opinion, the core to explaining the dissonance between what people from the Throne perceived of Sarevok, and what he's truly like. Rieltar threatens Sarevok, and that shows what this 'father-son' relationship really is about. For those who don't know, Sarevok's foster mother, who to this day doesn't have a canon name, was 'unfaithful' to Rieltar. It might be she cheated on him, but since it's never stated clearly, you could go with something else. Like trying and failing to kill her abusive husband, for example. As a punishment, Rieltar strangled her with a garrote in front of Sarevok when he was young.

Rieltar doesn't just threaten Sarevok, he reminds him of his place, which is the same as his mother. It's my guess that this is why he murdered her in front of Sarevok to begin with, so he would learn his place as a 'family member'. Someone Rieltar has complete authority over, including a right of life and death.

Sarevok brushes off the threats, but he does that as an adult and experienced fighter who is already planning to kill Rieltar and crush his operations. He wasn't always in that position. For the urchin Rieltar adopted, this threat wasn't 'weak' or 'hollow'.

This would explain why, despite being the 'foster son' of a wealthy and influential member, Sarevok is seen as an 'upstart' without a place in the upper ranks of the Throne. Because he is not his son to them, he is the urchin 'sponging off' Rieltar.

Another piece of the journal gives a little more information.

"The fool still insists on calling me his son, and for now I will let him. He assumes that I am loyal to him because he raised me."

-> Rieltar is confident in Sarevok's loyalty because he raised him. He provided for him and considers that should make Sarevok loyal no matter what. Even though Rieltar adopted Sarevok, their social classes are still very distinct. He's the one with the money and Sarevok should be grateful he spent some on him. 'Son' isn't an affectionate term (if the death threat above didn't make that clear), it's the reminder of what Sarevok 'owes' Rieltar. It would explain why Rieltar rarely mentions him. He has a debtor, not a son. When he discovers his plot to kill him, Rieltar says Sarevok wants 'what's best for him'. He knows why Sarevok wants out of this situation— he's the one who created it. Hence the threat. The devoted front is something Sarevok has to show, to ensure his own safety and the success of his plans.

Now I will go into a more 'grey' territory regarding a bunch of things that can't be checked with canon but are worth considering because of the situation:

First, does Sarevok have money? Rieltar does, yes. Sarevok works in the same group at a lower rank, he's both Rieltar's 'son' and his employee. As a commander, he likely has allotted money, but that's not his gold, that's for his job. Chances are he either doesn't get paid because he's working 'for the family' and that's another thing to be grateful for, or he does get money for his work, from Rieltar. Either way, Rieltar is the one who has control over Sarevok's finances. It's a good way to restrain him, and ensure his loyalty, since he won't get far without gold. Sarevok lived on the street before, he has ambitions, it's unlikely he's willing to rough it out again and be a homeless nobody. Rieltar surrounds himself with people he has control over, like his co-leaders: Brunos is dumb, and Thaldorn is a coward. They defer to Rieltar, who likely has an easy time controlling both. Having Sarevok at an officer position allows Rieltar to keep a leash on him, which fits his pattern.

Second, Sarevok has two genuine relationships that we know of. One was with his foster mother, and the other with his lover, Tamoko. If he had any real connections while living in the streets, they'd have ended once he joined Rieltar's household. Growing up, he'd be surrounded by people from the Iron Throne. The lowest in ranks would be under Rieltar's authority, and those of higher rank would only see the urchin Rieltar pulled out of the gutter. It's likely there were few children his age or anyone he could trust and build a relationship with. His connections are to characters he works for, and those who work for him. He's isolated, he doesn't have allies. That's another way for Rieltar to restrain him. There's the uncertainty of what 'unfaithfulness' means to Rieltar. Does Sarevok having someone he cares about gets in the way of being the devoted son Rieltar wants? Would the threat he makes on Sarevok's life include anyone important to him? It's possible. It would make any relationship Sarevok could have a weakness, which would impact how he views them. I would imagine he'd fight any feelings he developed for Tamoko before giving in, and he wouldn't introduce her to the man who murdered his mother. Having any attachment in this situation becomes a drawback.

Third, could Sarevok leave the Iron Throne if he wanted? Criminal groups rarely offer retirement. He's been involved since Rieltar adopted him, he's been working with them for years, and likely knows the group's inner workings well. The Throne is a criminal organization that wants to keep a legitimate front. With everything Sarevok knows, it wouldn't be smart to let go of him. Unless it's off a cliff. He's probably not an isolated case either. Youth with nothing to their names and no better options are easy to recruit and make good underlings.

Recap and conclusion:

Sarevok was pulled from poverty at a young age by Rieltar, a wealthy man who's part of a criminal organization. Through the murder of his wife, he's shown that he gives himself total authority over his family, and will harshly punish any form of rebellion. Growing up with Rieltar, Sarevok was affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age and became another member. All that time, he remained under Rieltar's thumb, acting the part of the loyal son, while not showing anything that might cause suspicion. It's no surprise Sarevok charmed the city of Baldur's Gate when he has been fronting his whole life for Rieltar and the Throne, downplaying his ambitions and capacities. He doesn't appear as the true antagonist until late in the game, when he turns on the Iron Throne. They're blindsided and unable to fight back, while Baldur's gate is ready to name him Grand Duke. It's a victory on every front. He outsmarts the entire Iron Throne, the leadership of Baldur's Gate, he has the city eating out of his hand, he believes he's on his way to become a god. He used the organization that used him, got revenge for his mother's murder, his years of abuse, and had the nobles at his feet. He failed the godhood part, but he beat odds stacked against him. The urchin from the streets of Sembia rose higher than anyone ever thought possible.

It's important because Sarevok's situation connects to a game's theme and to his misbeliefs. One of Baldur's Gate theme is that your choices matter more than your nature- which is the direct opposite of one of Sarevok's own misbelief. He is convinced his nature as Bhaalspawn predestines him for violence and destruction. The most telling example is in ToB during dialogue if you're trying to change Sarevok's alignment.

"And do you believe I have another choice?"

"After… after all you have been through? With the taint in your soul, you still believe this?"

If you reply positive, you wreck his world enough to make him speechless. And enough to trigger his alignment change. It's a deeply rooted belief, one that affects how he interacts with the world around him, and it's directly connected to his past. Sarevok is also convinced he needs the ability to dominate others, hence his quest for power.

"I… don't understand. What is the use of power if you do not carve out an empire for yourself?"

Sarevok grew up first in the streets, where he was prey to all manners of dangers. Then, he was in a brutal and callous household where his freedom and his life were conditioned by his obedience. It's not said how long he's been working for the Throne, but likely as soon as he could fight. Growing through this, violence would be an everyday part of Sarevok's world, and of himself. He views the world through that twisted lens, where the strong crushes the weak. Learning he's a spawn from a god of murder would cement that belief by giving meaning to that violence. Sarevok isn't a wealthy, privileged man greedy for more power, he's someone from an impoverished background who only views his relation to others and the world as either having others at your mercy, or being at the mercy of others. And he's been the one preyed on for a large chunk of his life. By seeking power, he ensures control not only over his own life, but over other people's lives, because if he controls them, they can't control him.

Sarevok was shaped by his environment, which allowed him to survive, but also messed up his adult life. He has no genuine relationship, they're all transactional. Cythandria, who will brag about loyalty, is with him for wealth, power and sex. Sarevok knows that, he's with her for similar reasons. They're intimate, but their self-interest comes first. Winski Perorate is 'loyal' because he's getting his divine glory by proxy through Sarevok. They follow Sarevok because they get something out of him and he keeps them around for the same reasons. Tamoko is an anomaly in this, because Sarevok caught feelings. Feelings he wasn't equipped to handle because they couldn't fit with his mindset. That's the core tragedy of their relationship, it was doomed from the start, even without the game's events. Tamoko loves Sarevok without wanting anything from him but his company, and he cannot believe that. I made a post about them, and I do think he leaves her because the taint would push him to kill her if she stayed, but I also think it's easy for the taint to manipulate Sarevok, because he's predisposed to believing the worst. Being with Tamoko required effort, because it challenged Sarevok's mindset. Her betrayal confirmed it: he let someone get too close without check and got stabbed in the back.

While Tamoko didn't fully understand Sarevok, she's the on who sums up the situation best:

"You had Gorion to guide you did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior."

In BG 1, Sarevok doesn't fail because he's weaker than Gorion's ward, he's more powerful when you face him, but he's holding on to misbeliefs that make him the puppet of the taint, whereas Charname is master of their own choices, harnessing the taint or rejecting its control. But there is nothing about Charname's nature that is superior to Sarevok and vice versa. The one thing that separates them is the past that shaped them.

Sarevok's story is tragic. He doesn't become a ruthless man because of his nature, but because he was young, alone and poor. Those around him exploited that. His situation gives nuance to his character, enough to make you feel for him. Even when he's only the antagonist, he has depth, and ToB further improves his writing, making a point to show his duality and his struggle to change, to uproot himself from the soil he grew up in. Sarevok never is a one-dimensionnal character, not as a villain, and not as a companion.

[dennisboobs]

one day i'll post my fic and you can finally witness this monster of a playlist that fuels my insanity

[residentialsinyomakai]

Yokai to Human Form Tidbit

Ok so there's human designs/ forms for Caspian's yokai friends 1, for fun, and 2, cause there's some situations where it's convenient/just better to have some in human forms (EX: Whisper coming to Caspian's choir concerts and conferences bc his parents are. fairly absent). Everyone has their own opinions on it and stuff and in this post I'ma talk about Baddinyan's!!

So fun little fact he does Not Like being human. This is mostly for body dysphoria adjacent feelings, like all of a sudden he has different hair, no fur, different ear placement, etc. The 'phantom limb' thing tends to happen with his tails, too, which is trippy and kinda uncomfortable. He also hates that a lot of his senses are dulled. smell, hearing, sight (especially in the dark), it makes everything feel kinda hazy and causes him to be a lot more stressed about everything.

Idk maybe I just think it's kinda funny to see a character thrown into a whole new form and reasonably be like. what. the hell this sucks. His easygoing (nice way of me saying his lazy ahh) and usually pretty chill/surprisingly level-headed mood is def worsened when he's constantly feeling skin that doesn't technically belong to him. A form he shouldn't really have.

As a result, he's oftentimes irritable and anxious in this form, with some days being better than others. He typically avoids having to use it unless he needs to though, and refuses to take his glasses off for anything. Has to be bribed with a Chocobar to enma forbid go out in public. He's also less used to it than most due to his extreme aversion to it. He just hates it and everything is physically gross and cloudy and nothing's in the right place and he can't explain why.

Badude, on the other hand, doesn't mind being human! It feels more similar to his body than it does for Baddinyan, and is kind of a fun change of pace every now and then. He's Baddinyan's like. closest friend besides Caspian in this AU, so he's typically who's convincing him to not kill everyone in the room and/or take off the stupid leaf in public lol. Their convos can sometimes go like

"C'mon, it's just until we get outta the store. Don't get your non-existent tails in a twist-"

"Shut up and do nyot remind me right nyeow."

"(Oh it's like. that kind of day whoopsies) Mbmb, we can ditch these nerds and go look at the candy isle or somethin' for a bit..?"

He stinks at comforting people or anything like that but tries. Sometimes. idiots

I'm working on references, but all I have to say about their designs for now is vitiligo Black-Mexican Baddinyan and Mexican-Japanese Badude CANON!!! See you for now! :) Have a radtastical day out there, don't implode or get rocks thrown into your inbox!! (again for some of you...)

[strawberry-bubblef]

Just found your blog after seeing the Overblot students reacting to causing serious harm to the reader/their partner and oof the angst is strong there! Excellent stuff all around and the way that several of them have symbolic injuries suited to each is fitting-

Like Vil pointed out the irony that his attack blinded them (likely disfiguring too)

Leona missing the arm that never hesitated to reach out for him.

Jamil making his S/O unable to stand without them, needing his support.

For some reason, it all reminded me of the Jekyll and Hyde musical (not at all accurate to the original work but the music is pretty good) particularly the Confrontation song, where Jekyll and Hyde have a musical number ripping into the other.

Imagine if the Overblot guys (whether merely haunted by their memories of the event or tying into your original post about permanent injuries inflicted to the person they loved most) have nightmares confronting those versions of themselves especially in regards to the harm that could have (or did) happen to their S/O. Only to get hit with “can’t you see were the same” but maybe the OB’s are mild yanderes towards the S/O or point out easier it is to keep them by his side, that he’s willing to take the risks to keep them around unlike the “good boy” persona some of them keep up.

OB students having nightmares of themselves after hurting their s/o

Part 1: Ob student unintentionally hurting their s/o

Aww! Thanks for the sweet words 🥲🫶 I'm glade you liked it !

Riddle Rosehearts

The halls of Heartslabyul are silent after curfew. Moonlight cuts silver through the tall windows, casting the checkered floor in sharp, cold contrast. It’s late, but Riddle isn’t sleeping. Not really. Not anymore.

He jolts awake again, breath shallow, red eyes wide. He stares at the ceiling, but all he sees is the moment he can never take back.

Your voice, cracking as you tried to reach him.

The way the vines coiled around you, cruel and tight,his vines.

How you cried out.

And the silence after. The absolute silence.

He’s by your side now, and you’ve forgiven him. You told him as much, your voice gentle, your hand on his. But that forgiveness tastes like ash when he remembers the look on your face back then,not fear, not anger, but disbelief. As if you couldn't quite believe he was the one hurting you.

It clings to him like a second skin.

And every night, the dream returns.

The maze is dead now. No more vibrant red blooms or the sweet scent of petals. Only twisted thorns and rotting leaves, the sky above a bruised, stormy purple. The air is heavy with guilt and magic.

In the center of it all sits his throne.

That version of him is waiting, legs crossed elegantly, sipping black tea that stains the porcelain cup like ink.

“You're late,” the Overblot says. ���But I suppose shame slows the feet.”

Riddle takes a breath. “I’m not here for your games.”

“Ah, but we’ve played such lovely ones, haven’t we? Tea parties and rules and hearts cut clean in half.”

He steps closer, circling Riddle like a cat. “Do you remember how quiet they became after we were done? No more backtalk. No more chaos. They obeyed. Isn't that what you wanted?”

Riddle flinches.

The Overblot leans in, voice silken and low. “You wrapped yourself in rules because your mother left you no room to breathe. So you did the same to them because love is terrifying when it’s free, isn’t it?”

“I was wrong,” Riddle says. “That wasn’t love.”

“Then what do you call it?” the other hisses, the smile gone. “You think your bouquet of apologies rewrites what you did? You think gentle words and shared tea make up for the way they screamed?”

Riddle’s hands tremble. He can’t meet his own eyes,those cruel red eyes staring out of a mirror cracked by power and pain.

“I didn't mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot’s voice turns almost tender, almost sad. “And I-we will always live with that.”

Silence falls like snow.

And then: “But at least I was honest. At least I did what had to be done to keep them close. You fear they’ll leave. I made it impossible. Maybe you should be thanking me.”

Riddle recoils. “You turned them into something fragile.”

“I turned them into something ours. They stay because of you, but they flinch because of me.”

A pause.

“Can’t you see?” he whispers. “We’re the same.”

The dream ends with Riddle reaching for his collar, choking on petals that pour from his mouth,crimson, velvet, suffocating.

He wakes with a cry.

It’s still night, the room quiet. He reaches for you instinctively, but the sheets are cool, the space beside him empty. Panic strikes fast and cold.

He finds you on the balcony, bathed in moonlight. Wrapped in a soft robe, you’re gazing at the stars. Your arm is wrapped, supported. Some movements are slower now. But your eyes are bright as ever.

You turn as he approaches.

“Another nightmare?”

Riddle says nothing. He only stands behind you and hesitantly slide his hand into yours. His grip is tight,not crushing, never again but desperate in its quiet plea.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to decide that alone,” you reply softly, placing yourhand over his. “You made a mistake. A terrible one. But you changed. You’re trying. That matters.”

“I see him every time I close my eyes,” Riddle admits. “He says we’re the same.”

You turn, gently cupping his face with the only hand that you have left. “Then prove him wrong.”

He leans into your touch like a drowning man, clinging to the only solid thing in a storm. In your eyes, there’s still pain. Still healing. But also,somehow hope.

He’s terrified he’ll always be at war with that version of himself.

But if you’re willing to walk beside him through the thorns, maybe, just maybe, there’s a path forward.

Leona Kingscholar

The desert wind howls in his ears.

Leona stands on the edge of a dry, cracked savannah where nothing grows, under a sunless sky. The ground is stained with soot and ash, grass burned to cinders. In the distance, a pride stone crumbles into dust.

And there,at the center of the destruction,is himself.

Or at least, what’s left of him.

His Overblot form sits lazily upon a throne of twisted bone and stone, smoke curling from his mane like incense from an open flame. Those glowing eyes burn, full of mirthless amusement.

“Took you long enough,” the Overblot drawls. “What, couldn’t face me sooner? Or were you too busy watching them struggle to tie their shoes with the wrong damn hand?”

Leona's jaw tightens. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” His other self stretches, claws dragging over the arms of the throne. “I’m not the one who tore it from them. You are. We are.”

“I never meant–”

“Don’t insult both of us. You knew what that spell could do. You were angry. Jealous. Tired of always coming second. So you struck. And you didn’t stop.”

Leona’s fists clench. He can still remember the heat, the way magic surged through him like wildfire, untamed and wild. The look on your face when you collapsed, your dominant arm crushed under a landslide of sand and force.

He remembers how still you were. How you didn’t reach for him. Couldn’t.

And how the silence that followed was louder than any roar.

“They can’t write like they used to,” his Overblot murmurs. “Can’t lift a box. Can’t sketch, or braid your damn hair. All the things they used to do so easily,gone. Because of you.”

“I know !” Leona snaps. “I live with it every day.”

“Do you?” The Overblot tilts his head. “Then why haven’t you left? Why not let them go and find someone better for them? Someone whole?”

Leona’s voice drops to a growl. “Because I love them.”

The other version smiles, sharp and cruel. “No. You need them. And they need you now, don’t they? You made sure of that. No one else understands them like you. No one else will want them like this.”

Leona stares, disgust tightening in his throat.

“Come on,” the Overblot purrs. “Admit it. Part of you is relieved. Because now they’ll stay.”

“No.”

“They’ll never leave you.”

“NO!”

The Overblot lunges, claws out, but Leona doesn’t move.

Because he knows the truth: this isn’t about physical pain. This is about guilt, about possession, about fear.

And about how love can rot if left to fester.

He wakes up leaning against a tree in Savanaclaw. It's still dark, the early morning stars just beginning to fade. His hands are buried in the dirt, sweat soaking the back of his shirt. His heart thunders in his chest like it’s trying to dig out.

The scent of jasmine reaches him first. Then your voice.

“Bad dream?”

Leona looks up.

You’re seated nearby, wrapped in a blanket, watching the horizon. Your sleeve is pinned up neatly, your right side turned toward him. The scarred place where your arm used to be is hidden, but he knows its shape by memory now.

He sits beside you wordlessly. You lean into him, letting his warmth chase away the morning chill.

“It’s always the same dream,” he mutters. “Me. Him. You.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Do you still hate yourself?”

He doesn’t answer.

His grip tightens ever so slightly. “I wish it had been me instead.”

You reach for his hand with your remaining one and lace your fingers together.

“I would’ve still stayed,” you say. “Even if it had been you who got hurt. Even if it was your arm.”

Silence stretches, heavy and honest.

Leona leans into you then, pressing his forehead to your temple.

“I’m trying,” he whispers.

“I know.”

And for once, the guilt doesn’t scream quite so loud.

Azul Ashengrotto

The sea is too still.

No current, no light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

No light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

And then it starts.

The water shifts.

A shadow coils in the deep like smoke in water,and from it emerges himself,not in his human form, not even in his merman body. No, it’s the Overblot: bloated and grandiose, tentacles stretching into the black like roots through rot. His grin is razor-sharp, filled with oil-slick malice.

“Still pretending to be human?” it coos. “Still clinging to the mask of the poor little businessman?”

Azul doesn’t look at it.

“Did you think success would make you good?” the Overblot hisses, gliding around him like a serpent. “That if you just worked hard enough, they’d love you? Respect you?”

Azul breathes slowly, deliberately. “Shut up.”

“Oh, touchy.” “You weren’t nearly so quiet when you were begging them not to leave you. Not when they were lying there,bleeding, gasping because you made them part of your deal.”

Azul flinches.

He sees it again: the whirlpool, the crashing debris, the spell cast in desperation and greed. The way you fell,your leg crushed under the magical pressure, twisted unnaturally before he could stop it.

Before he cared to stop it.

“You used them,” the Overblot sings. “Because deep down, you thought: if they depend on me, they won’t leave me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” it snarls. “You saw them shine and you thought: I want that. You dragged them into your schemes, into your world. And now?”

A cruel smile stretches over its face.

“Now they can’t even dance.”

Azul’s fists curl.

“They limp through the halls, leaning on a cane or your arm, and every step is a reminder. And yet, they still smile at you. Still tell you it’s not your fault.”

The Overblot leans in close, eyes glowing.

“But it is.”

Azul screams,no sound leaves his throat, only bubbles but he surges forward, trying to claw at the thing wearing his face, only for it to melt away into nothing.

Leaving him alone in the silent sea.

He jolts awake in a cold sweat.

The lounge is dark, only the soft glow of enchanted lamps illuminating the drapes. Azul sits on the couch, disheveled,, breath caught halfway in his throat.

A small noise draws his attention.

You're at the window, adjusting your prosthetic leg,carefully, patiently. You don’t notice him watching, or maybe you do, and you choose not to look.

He swallows.

You always do things quietly now. No complaints. No bitter remarks. But you also don’t hum anymore when you walk. You don’t twirl in the water like you used to.

Azul lowers his eyes.

He hears the soft tap of your cane as you make your way over, the familiar pattern of your gait now etched into his memory.

You sit beside him, brushing your hand against his.

“You dreamt about it again.”

He nods, shame burning behind his eyes.

“I see him in the mirror sometimes,” he murmurs. “The one I was. I wonder if I’m still him.”

You shake your head. “He would’ve run from this. You didn’t.”

Azul hesitates before reaching for your hand. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Maybe not,” you whisper, “but you’re trying. And that counts more than you think.”

He leans in slowly, resting his forehead against the side of your head. “If I could give you that leg back…”

���I wouldn’t take it.”

He stiffens, shocked.

You turn to him with quiet intensity. “Because then maybe you’d still be pretending to be someone you’re not. I don’t need perfection. I need you.”

Azul doesn’t reply,he can’t. But he holds you a little tighter, breathing in the proof that somehow, some way… you’re still here.

And maybe that's enough.

Jamil Viper

The chains rattle again.

He doesn’t know where he is,some room, always dark, always humid. The smell of sweat and ash lingers like incense from an old nightmare. Stone walls stretch in every direction, but there’s no exit. No sky. Just that mirror on the wall.

He doesn’t look at it.

Not yet.

He knows who’s waiting on the other side.

But he turns anyway.

And there he i. The Overblot version of himself smiles cruelly, slouching in that confident, arrogant way Jamil hates to admit he once wished he could embody.

“You look exhausted,” the Overblot drawls. “Not sleeping well, Jamil?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” Jamil hisses.

“Oh, but I’m here to talk to you.” The reflection slinks closer. “How’s our darling doing, by the way? Still limping around because of you?”

Jamil’s stomach churns.

The sound of bones snapping, of the ground cracking during that awful moment,when magic surged out of control, when the pressure pinned you down, the illusion spells fraying as your foot was crushed beneath falling debris he summoned. Not even intentionally. Not really.

But he knew you were nearby.

And he still didn’t care.

He had finally taken the reins of his life and you were collateral.

“I didn’t mean-” Jamil starts, voice strained.

“You didn’t stop,” the Overblot cuts in, venomous. “You didn’t hesitate. You knew they were watching. And still you used your magic. Still you twisted their mind until they collapsed.”

Jamil’s voice is a whisper. “I didn't want to hurt them.”

“You wanted control.”

Silence.

“You wanted them to stop pitying you. To see you,not the servant, not the background character, but the powerful one. And when you had it, even just for a moment…”

The Overblot tilts his head.

“…you liked it.”

Jamil clenches his fists. “I hate you.”

“No,” it says, baring fangs. “You hate that I’m you. You hate that some part of you thought, ‘If I can just keep them dependent… they’ll never leave.’”

The words sting like poison.

“Now look at them,” the Overblot murmurs. “They used to dance barefoot on sunlit floors. Now every step is calculated. Controlled. Like you wanted everything else to be.”

Jamil shuts his eyes tight.

When he opens them again, the mirror is empty.

He’s alone again.

But the silence is louder than before.

He wakes up in a sweat.

The room is dim, lit by the flicker of a candle. The warmth of the dorm blankets does little to soothe him, especially not when he sees the empty spot in the bed beside him.

You're by the window.

Adjusting the supportive brace over your ankle,what's left of it. Your balance is careful, practiced. Your fingers are deft. Jamil sits up quietly, heart aching.

You glance over your shoulder. “Nightmare?”

He nods, slow.

You limp over to him, footsteps padded by the soft cloth of your wrap. You don’t say anything at first,you just press your forehead to his, fingers tangling with his.

“I see him,” Jamil says. “The version of me who… who didn't care. Who thought being loved wasn’t as important as being obeyed.”

You don’t flinch. You already know.

“I hate him,” he whispers.

“But he’s not you,” you murmur back.

Jamil’s eyes glint with unshed tears.

“I almost made you another chain.”

You shake your head, taking his hand and placing it against your heartbeat. “But you let go. You let me go. You helped me stand again.”

His voice is raw. “You should’ve run from me.”

“I didn’t want to,” you reply. “I wanted to walk beside you. Even if I had to relearn how.”

He exhales shakily.

And when he kisses your knuckles, it’s soft. Tentative. Like he’s still trying to prove to himself that you’re real,that this, what he has now, is real.

Even after all he’s done.

Vil Schoenheit

The mirror doesn’t lie. That’s the curse.

He can’t hide from it. Not from the face that stares back at him,twisted, blot-streaked, gleaming with hatred and pride. His Overblot self grins through cracked lipstick and bleeding glamour.

“Ah. Come to scold me again, Schoenheit?”

Vil doesn’t answer. He already knows how this goes.

Every night, it’s the same: the same confrontation, the same voice that sounds too much like his own, the same sickening echo of violet light bursting from his fingertips, burning away the world and everything he held dear.

Especially you.

“Still pretending you didn’t enjoy it?” the Overblot version sneers. “You always thought beauty was everything. Until you became the monster.”

Vil’s voice is cold. “I wanted the world to see me. Not them.”

“And now they can’t see anything at all.” A cruel chuckle. “Isn’t that poetic?”

His throat tightens.

He remembers the scent of magic in the air, the searing heat, the flash of light as your scream tore through him. The way you clutched your face, blood slipping between your fingers. The panic that followed. The silence. The way your eyes never found him again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot tilts his head mockingly. “You wanted to be seen. So you made sure they never would be seen again. You took that from them. You, who worshipped beauty like a god.”

Vil’s hands tremble at his sides.

“You knew what your magic could do. You chose to use it anyway.”

“I thought I could control it.”

“You were wrong.”

Silence.

Then:

“They still call your name,” the Overblot whispers. “Even now. Still reach for you. Still smile in your direction. And doesn’t that make it worse?”

Vil turns away.

“All they know is the echo of your voice and the feel of your touch. And you cling to that, don’t you? Because if they saw you as you were... they would’ve run.”

The mirror cracks.

Not from magic but from the way Vil slams his fist into it, fury rippling through every bone.

And when he opens his eyes again, he's awake.

The bedroom is quiet, curtains drawn open just enough to let in moonlight. You’re seated on the bed, fingers moving expertly as you read a Braille book Vil had custom,made for you. Your head tilts slightly when you hear him stir.

“Another dream?” you ask gently.

Vil’s voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

You set the book down. “Was it him again?”

“…Yes.”

You pat the space beside you, and he comes willingly. Sits beside you. Lets you touch his face. You always do that now,run your fingertips along his cheekbones, brush over the curve of his lips, like you’re memorizing him all over again.

“I hate what I did to you,” he whispers. “I took the stars from your eyes.”

“And still I find light in your voice.” you say softly.

Vil swallows. “You don’t hate me?”

“I miss what I lost,” you admit. “But I don’t miss you. Because you’re still here.”

He presses your hand to his chest. “It should’ve been me.”

“No,” you whisper. “You came back to me. That’s enough.”

Sometimes, he still dreams of mirrors.

But these days, when he wakes,he’s holding your hand.

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

Idia Shroud

That’s how the nightmare always starts.

Blue flame dances along the walls, scorching consoles, melting cables, and setting off a chorus of alarms. Everything is chaos.Except for him. Except for the Overblot.

It rises from the flames like a ghost made of rage and sorrow, hair wilder, cloak billowing like smoke. It grins, bearing rows of flame-slicked teeth.

“Guess what, Idia,” it sing-songs. “You’re the villain in your own tragic visual novel. Bad End unlocked!”

Idia curls inward, arms around himself. “I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“You did more than hurt them,” it hisses. “You burned them. Because you wanted to keep them close. You wanted them safe.”

“I lost control. The magic-”

“You thought locking them in the Underworld was safer than letting them leave you. And when they reached out for you..” The Overblot snaps its fingers.

The scent of scorched flesh.

The sound of your cry.

Idia covers his ears, but it’s no use.

“You destroyed the very hands that held you. Four fingers. Gone. Just like that. Do you know how many times they tried to play your games after that? Tried to cook? Draw? Hold a pen?”

“I didn’t mean to-!”

“But you did.” The voice is ice now. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Silence.

“They still forgive you.”

Idia lifts his head slowly, shame thick in his eyes.

“They still smile when you fumble with words. Still wrap what’s left of their hand around yours. Still kiss your cheek and say it’s okay. It’s not okay.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know it’s not.”

“Then why do you stay?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then-q

“…Because they asked me to. Because they didn’t want to lose me too.”

The Overblot’s grin fades.

Idia steps closer to it. For once, he doesn’t flinch.

“I am a coward. I am broken. But I’m trying. Every day. I can’t fix what I did… but I can be here now. And that’s what they asked of me.”

The flames flicker.

“You don’t deserve them,” it spits.

“I know,” Idia says. “But they still choose me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that.”

He wakes up gasping.

Your hand is in his,smaller now, missing parts of what once was, wrapped in soft bandages and healing cream. But warm. Still warm.

You stir beside him. “Another one?”

He nods.

You squeeze. “You’re still here.”

“…Yeah.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Then I’m okay.”

He doesn’t cry, but he holds your hand tighter.

And for the first time, the nightmare fades into silence.

Malleus Draconia

The castle is quiet. Too quiet.

He wanders its halls alone in the dream. The stone is grey, cracked with age. Thorny vines have grown wild over every door, every window. The sky outside is eternally twilight, like the world itself is holding its breath. Time doesn’t move here. It hasn’t for centuries.

He knows where you are.

He always knows.

Your chamber lies behind an arch of briars, untouched by rot or dust. Enchanted sleep preserved you, peaceful and unmoving, lips barely parted as if frozen mid-sigh.

He crosses the threshold slowly, reverently. His footsteps don’t echo anymore.

You lies there still.

Because of him.

“Malleus.”

The voice that greets him isn’t yours.

It’s his but deeper, weightless, echoing with ancient magic.

The Overblot.

It steps into view like a reflection peeled from his shadow. A smile too gentle to be anything but cruel.

“You saved her,” it says. “She was going to leave. Be taken away. You stopped it.”

“I imprisoned her,” Malleus whispers.

“You protected her. In eternal sleep, she couldn’t be harmed. Couldn’t abandon you. Couldn’t be taken away by time or fate or death.”

Malleus walks toward the bed. Your skin is still warm beneath the spell, magic thrumming softly with every breath. So many years have passed. More than he dares count.

“And yet she wept in her dreams,” he murmurs. “I heard it. Even through the spell.”

“Dreams are nothing,” the Overblot croons. “She’s safe. Isn’t that all you ever wanted?”

His hands tremble.

“I wanted to be with her,” Malleus says, voice breaking. “Not without her. Not like this.”

The Overblot’s smile fades. It regards him like a disappointed parent. “You are a king .You could have have eternity together.”

“No. I forced eternity upon her. I robbed her of choice… of time… of life.”

A silence falls.

Then-

“But she’s awake now.”

That voice. Yours.

He turns.

You're standing in the doorway. Older than you should be, touched by the centuries but beautiful still. Eyes full of sorrow and kindness both.

“I’m awake, Malleus.”

He stares, breathless. “This isn’t real.”

“It could be,” you say, stepping forward. “If you let go of the guilt. If you come back to me.”

“But I hurt you. I stole your future.”

“And yet I chose to wake up.”

You reach out.

He takes your hand in both of his, kneeling as if in penance.

“I will never forgive myself,” he whispers.

“Then let me forgive you instead,” you say. “You’re here now. And I waited because I believed you’d come back.”

He wakes in your arms, forehead against your shoulder, breath shaky.

You cradle his head gently, fingers weaving through his hair.

“You dreamt it again,” you murmur.

He nods, silent.

“I’m still here,” you remind him. “Still choosing you.”

And he holds you tighter, as though centuries could slip between his fingers once more.

But this time, he’ll never let go.

English is not my first language !

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[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.

[samanthacastano02]

He Calls you Clingy - Han Jisung

Han Jisung x FemReader

Word Count: 5.4k

Trigger warnings: angst, depression, thoughts of suicide, thoughts of the members being better off without her, poorly written. (I'm not a fan of how this turned out, I had started this when I was fighting with a friend and when the fight ended I lost my inspiration for the story. I might try and rewrite it at a later date or post an alternate version)

Summary: You had been best friends with Han since before his debut, you had always had feelings for him but kept them hidden. When you over hear him call you clingy, your relationship with him becomes strained. You aren't sure if there is a way to come back from what he said and made you feel. But if there is a chance, you are willing to try, for the sake of keeping him in your life but will that be enough for you anymore?

Photo's not mine, credit goes to photographers

Bang Chan | Lee Know | Seo Changbin | Hwang Hyunjin | Lee Felix | Kim Seungmin | Yang Jeongin

I had known Han since before he debuted, standing by his side through everything. I was by his side during the survival show, the late nights at the studio when he struggled with lyrics, the early mornings when he didn’t want to wake up, and I was there for him when his anxiety had gotten really bad. I had always thought that he would always be by my side, I mean after all that’s what he had promised when he went into the trainee program, he had promised that he would always be by my side and wouldn’t let anything come between us, no matter what. But there was one thing that I could never tell him, I was madly in love with him but I knew that he would never feel that way about me because all he ever saw me as was his best friend and at the end of the day that is all he would ever see me as.

Present:

Han had asked me if I wanted to spend the day with him at the studio while he worked on lyrics. I had the day off so I figured that there wouldn’t be any harm in spending the day with him. It wasn’t very often anymore that I got to spend the day with him anymore due to my job. I know that if I had told Han about how stressful my job was he would tell me to quit and that he would take care of me, but I can’t ask that of him. I know that he and I have been best friends for years now but I don’t want him to start thinking that I am friends with him because he has money. 

Even though he and I were hanging out, we weren’t talking but that’s usually how our hang out sessions usually went. Each of us doing our own thing but enjoying being in each other's company. That was one thing about Han and I, we didn’t have to constantly talk or do things to enjoy each other's company. 

“Hannie, I’m hungry and it’s about lunch time. Do you want anything yet?”

“Hmm? What?” “I was just asking if you wanted lunch yet, I’m starting to get hungry.”

“I’m almost done with these lyrics, why don’t you take my card and run and grab us something, bring it back here?” “Sure, I can do that. Anything in particular that you’d like?” “No, just get whatever you think looks good. You know that I’ll eat just about anything.”

“Alright, I’ll be back soon.”

With his card in hand, I make a quick trip to the restaurant down the street that both he and I like. I tried to balance the food and drinks while making my way back to the building, thankfully the front ladies knew me and were quick to rush and help me when they noticed that I was struggling with carrying everything and opening the doors. Once I got up to the floor that Han was on, I was quick to make my way to their studio. When I got to the studio I had noticed that the door had been left ajar and there were multiple voices inside. I could tell that it was Innie, Changbin, Felix and Seungmin talking and hanging out with Han, I was about to push open the door when I heard something that made my heart drop. 

“Hey Hyung, where is y/nnie?” Innie asks, noticing that my stuff is there but I’m not.

“She went to get us food, she’ll probably be back soon.” Han responded. 

“Why don’t you sound too excited about that?” Felix asked.

“I don’t know, it just feels like I am constantly seeing her.”

“Don’t you normally go with her when she goes to get you guys food?” Seungmin asks.

“I do, but she didn’t ask this time and I just needed a break.” “A break?” Changbin asks, sounding both confused and worried.

“Yea, she is so damn clingy all the time, she is constantly wanting to hang out and is constantly at the studio. When all I want is to just have the day to myself, she’s there asking if I want to hang out and if I tell her no she’ll throw a fit and that’ll just cause me more issues. Sometimes I really regret becoming her friend, if I had known that she would be this fucking clingy I wouldn’t have gotten as close to her.”

“That’s harsh Han, even for you. She’s your best friend, you know that she just wants to spend time with you because she doesn’t get to see you as often as we do.” Innie tries to defend me.

“Yeah but asking to hang out as often as she does. It gets so annoying and I just need a break, because I know that if I tell her no, she will throw a fit.”

“Han, that’s a little harsh. You know that she wants to spend time with you because she cares about you” Changbin tries to get Han to realize that he’s being harsher than he needs to be. But when he looks up, he sees me standing outside the door and he knows that I’ve just heard everything.

I take that opportunity to push open the door and enter the room, the rest of the boys smile and greet me but when I look at Han I can now see that he is doing his best to hide his annoyance with me. The boys try their best to involve me in their conversations but with what I had just overheard, it’s hard to interact and pretend that I’m ok. How can I pretend that I’m ok when I just found out that my best friend thinks that I’m clingy and that it gets annoying. After a while of just watching the boys interact with each other and trying to pretend that I’m ok, I do my best to come up with a believable excuse so that I can go home and actually let out all the emotions that I’ve felt in the last two hours. 

“Hey boys, I need to head out. I’ve got some prepping that I need to do for work tomorrow.” “Are you sure you gotta head out so soon? We haven’t seen you in forever, Noona.” Innie tries to convince me to stay  longer.

“I’m sorry Innie, but I really need to head home and get ready for work tomorrow. I’ll try to stop by when I have more time.”

“Do you want me to walk you down?” Han asks, I can see that he’s trying to not seem overly annoyed.

“No, no that's ok. I know that you are busy. I’ll see you later.” “Alright, as long as you are sure.” Han responds.

“I’m sure, it’s not dark out or anything. I’ll be ok, plus my apartment isn’t far from here, so it’ll be a nice walk.”

“Wait, you’re walking home? Why not have one of our drivers take you home?” Changbin asks, obviously concerned for my safety. 

“It’s ok, really.”

Before any of the boys can argue or try to convince me to take one of the company cars home, I grab my stuff and stand to leave. Han barely looks at me but the rest of the boys wave goodbye, to my surprise Changbin gets up and follows me out of the room. I know that he’s going to ask if I’m ok and honestly I don’t know if I’m ready for him to ask me that because the moment that he does, I know that I won’t be able to hold in the tears. 

“Y/n, hold on. Are you ok? I know you heard what Han said.” Changbin asked.

“I honestly don’t know Binnie.” 

“It’s ok if you aren’t. What he said was super harsh, and he definitely shouldn’t have said that about you.”

“I mean, maybe he has a point.”

“What are you talking about? What point does he have?” Changbin looks appalled by the fact that I agree with Han. 

“I can be clingy and I know that it can get annoying, so maybe what I need to do is back off and give him space. I know that’s what he wants but feels he can’t tell me.”

“Y/n, don’t do this. You know that this is going to end up hurting you. I know that Han can be a dumbass but you need to tell him that you heard him and that what he said hurt.” “I can’t Binnie, I really can’t. I can’t do that to him, I can’t make him feel guilty for how he is feeling. I do appreciate the fact that you are trying to protect my feelings but I got this handled.” “Alright, but if you need anything then please let me know. You know that all of us are here for you if you need anything.” “I know Binnie, and I am extremely thankful for that.” “If you won’t take a company care, then please at least let me walk you home. I don’t have anything for the next hour and a half.” “Binnie, it’s ok. I’ll be fine.”

Binnie realized that trying to convince me would be hopeless and that he wouldn’t win this argument with me. So at the doors of the company, he just asked that I let him know when I get home and to keep him updated on how my work assignment is going. 

“Binnie, there was no work assignment. I just needed an excuse to leave.” “Oh y/nnie.” The look of sadness on his face broke the dam that I had been trying to keep.

“I need to leave Binnie, before he sees and it makes things worse.” “Alright, just let me know when you get home, ok?” “I will, please try not to be too upset with Han. He can’t help the way that he feels.” “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

Four Weeks Later:

I didn’t mean too but over the next few weeks I continued to pull away from the group. I didn’t want to be too clingy with Han, I knew that the guys would miss me but they were his friends before they were mine. I didn’t need to give him another reason to be upset with me. It terrifies me to be alone, with the boys being my only friends but maybe it’s for the best that I distance myself, maybe I rely on Han and them too much. 

As the days go on, it’s hard to not feel lonely and miss spending time with the boys but I can’t give Han another reason to be upset, I already can’t handle the fact that he thinks I’m clingy. I love him and he finds me clingy, the one person I love more than anything and he wants nothing to do with me anymore. 

Han’s POV:

At first I didn’t even realize that y/n had been spending less time around me and the guys, at first it was a nice break from her but as time went on I began to realize just how much I missed having her around. I could tell that the boys weren’t happy with me, but I didn’t know why she had stopped hanging around us. It’s obvious that the boys know but they weren’t going to tell me, if I wanted answers I was going to have to ask her myself. Out of all the boys she was closest to Changbin, I knew that he would know where she was. 

“Changbin-Hyung, can I talk to you?” I pull him aside after dance practice. 

“What can I do for you Han?”

“Why has y/n not been around as much?” “She’s just been busy.”

“For two weeks?”

“Han, why do you all of a sudden care? Two weeks ago you were saying that she was too clingy.”

“I was wrong. I was stressed, tracks weren’t going well, Channie-Hyung was on my tail on getting lyrics to him and I said the wrong thing. But she doesn’t know that I said anything, does she?” “God, if she knows that I told you this she’d kill me. She overheard you Han, she heard what you said, that’s why she left that day. She didn’t have an assignment that she needed to work on, she used it as an excuse to leave because she was barely holding it together.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Fuck is right Han, she has stood by your side since before our debut and has been nothing but supportive and this is how you repay her? And you claim to be in love with her?” “Fuck Hyung, you’ve gotta help me. Please, help me fix this with her. I do love her, I put my anger in the wrong place and it hurt her.”

“Because I want her to be happy and I want you to be happy, I’ll help you. But only if she tells me that she is ready to even possibly consider forgiving you.” “God I can’t believe I fucked up.”

Your POV:

It had been harder than I thought it would be to cut myself from the group, the depression was getting harder to deal with but it was my problem to handle not the boys, they already had enough to deal with. Some days it felt like my body was made of stone and all I could do was lay in bed and cry, some days I had the energy to get up and function. But more often than not, I was barely functioning, living off of power drinks and water. I functioned enough that I could complete my work but that was about it, there wasn’t much else that I could force myself to do. Han had been my support and when he called me clingy, that support fell out from under me. And the worst part is that no matter what, a part of me will always love him, even when I know that I shouldn’t. 

The past two weeks had been exceptionally bad, I could barely function, I had called out of work and I could barely get myself to shower. I wanted my Han back but he was better off without me, and maybe the boys were better off without me, maybe everyone would be better off without me. I was spiraling and felt like I was drowning, I felt like there was no point in staying, in living any longer. I was so in my head that I hadn’t heard my phone ringing, hadn’t heard Changbin trying to get ahold of me. I knew that had I looked I would see the panicked texts and calls from him, it wasn’t until I heard him rushing into my apartment that I somewhat came out of my funk. 

Changbin’s POV:

When I walked into y/n’s apartment, it looked like she had barely been living. The blinds were drawn, barely letting any light in, there were no dishes in the sink, just empty protein drinks and water bottles. She had been drinking enough to stay alive but other than that, she wasn’t living, she was slowly letting herself die. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fix this, the only person that would be able to fix this is Han. I quickly called him, needing him to get here as quickly as possible. While I call him, I pull y/n into me, holding her close to me, feeling protective of her.

“Han, I need you to get to y/n’s apartment as quickly as possible.” 

“Is everything ok? Is she ok?”

“No, she’s not ok and right now the only person that can fix it is you.” “Fuck, ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I don’t care if you have to hitchhike, get your ass over here now.” “Shit, ok.”

Twenty minutes later I hear frantic knocking on y/n’s door, I know that it’s Han. Y/n has a death grip on me and I am unable to pry her off of me to let him in, I know that he still has her key. With one hand I send him a text to just come in, when he finally gets his head on straight enough to open the door, he sees what condition she is in. 

“What happened?” “She cut herself off from the only support system that she had.”

“Fuck.” “You need to fix this Han, I am not about to lose her due to your stupidity.”

I manage to loosen her hold on me long enough that Han is able to slip in and take my spot, I know that they will figure it out and that I won’t have to help. Han gives me a nod, letting me know that he has it under control now and that he will let me know if he needs help. With a heavy sigh I leave her apartment, praying that things will be resolved. 

Your POV:

I don’t know what time I had fallen asleep, but when I woke up my head wasn’t resting on my pillows, instead it was resting on someone's hard chest. I was so out of it still that I hadn’t figured out who was holding me and why they were holding me. When I finally came too enough, I realized that it wasn’t Changbin that I was laying on, it was Han. I didn’t know why or how he was here but the selfish part of me wanted to bask in his warmth before he withdrew the warmth. 

I didn’t know why he was here but I was enjoying the comfort that he was bringing too much to bring myself to move out of his arms. I knew that once he woke up, whatever conversation that we ended up having would be difficult and I’d have to be alone again. I allowed myself to fall asleep again, allowed myself to take in the rare moment of comfort. 

The Next Morning:

For the first time in months, I slept for more than three hours. I knew that it was because of Han, and I also knew that the moment he left my sleep schedule would go back to being shit. I will have to talk to my doctor about getting on a sleep med after all of this is done. I could feel Han moving under me, so I knew that he was awake, and I knew that I could no longer put off the inevitable. 

“Han, why are you here?” “Changbin called me in a panic last night, told me that you weren’t answering him and then when he got here you were out cold, wouldn’t even wake up to painful stimulation.” “I’m fine. You don’t need to be here. Go home.” “You aren’t, and you haven’t been for a while.” “Why are you here? You haven’t cared for months, so why do you care now?”

“I have cared, but I thought that you wanted space, so I gave you the space even though I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why you disappeared from our lives.”

“I overheard you, I overheard what you said.” “What do you mean?” “I overheard you the night you called me clingy, so I gave you what you wanted Han. I gave you space.”

“God, I don’t even remember why I said that. But that doesn’t matter y/n, I was way wrong, I don’t want space from you.”

“You can’t just change your mind Han, you can’t just want me around when it’s convenient for you.” “I want you around all the time, it felt wrong when you weren’t around. Not only did I miss you but so did the guys, I’m pretty sure Changbin was about ready to smack some sense into me if I didn’t come when he called me.”

“What do you want from me Han, you call me clingy, I give you space but then you decide that you don’t want space anymore. You are very confusing and I really really don’t know what to think.” “I want you to cling to me y/n, I want you to show up to the studio randomly, no matter the time of day or night. I want you to spend time with the guys again, I know they miss you. I want you to bug me about going out to restaurants, I want you to just bug me.”

“Han, how do I know that the moment I start doing those things again, you won’t flip on me again and change your mind?” “These last few months without you have felt like torture because I didn’t know what went wrong and why you weren’t coming around. I never want to feel this way again, I don’t want to feel the fear again that I felt when Changbin called and said that you weren’t responding.”

“I don’t know what to do or say Han, how can I trust that this won’t happen again?”

“Give me a chance to prove to you that this won’t happen again.”

“Han, I can’t handle this again.”

“I promise you, that I won’t do this to you ever again.” “One chance Han, one chance.” “That’s all that I ask.”

Two Months Later:

For the last two months, things have slowly been going back to normal between me and the rest of the boys. The relationship between Han and I is still strained, I don’t want to get close to him just to have him rip my heart out again. I don’t think that I could handle it again, I barely could handle it this time and that was without me telling him how I felt. I don’t think that I can ever give him the power over me to wreck me the way he already has. 

Changbin knows about how I felt regarding Han, but he also knew that I would haunt his dreams if he ever dared to tell him. I didn’t hang around Han as much as I used to, afraid that if I did he would think I was clingy again. But the rest of the guys were happy to see me and I was happy to see them, I had missed them and they had missed me. It was Minho’s turn tonight to host movie night, which meant that against my better judgment I would be seeing Han for an extended period of time. It was getting harder and harder to hide how I felt for him, especially now with how he had been acting, trying to make it up to me for being an idiot. Minho could tell that I was struggling with being so close to Han, and that I was close to panicking. I needed space, using the excuse of needing a drink of water I went to the kitchen, running into Minho. 

“If you need space but don’t want to leave, you can sneak away into my room. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori are hiding in there.” Minho said quietly, trying not to scare me. 

“Why are they in your room? Aren’t they usually out and about?” “With how many people were going to be here tonight, I didn’t want them to get too stressed out.”

“That makes sense, but I think that I’m going to take you up on that offer because it’s becoming too much but I don’t want to leave yet.” “Feel free to hang out there for as long as you need. I’m sure they won’t mind the company.” with that he walked back into the living room while I looked towards his bedroom. 

With a deep breath I walked towards his room, knowing that if I went back to the living room I would end up having a panic attack. When I entered Minho’s room, I saw that Soonie and Dori were hanging out on his bed while Doongie was hanging out on his nightstand looking out the window. I knew that I couldn’t force them to cuddle but maybe if I layed down they would lay with me, so I laid on his bed trying to not disturb the two who were already lounging. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I woke to the sound of his door opening. I thought that it might have been Minho coming to check in but to my surprise it was Han. 

“I was wondering where you’d gone. Of course you chose the company of these three menaces over us.” he joked lightly.

“I just needed a break and was apparently tired.” “Are you ok?”

“I’m ok. Just needed to be alone for a little while.” “I’m sorry, again.”

“I forgive you Han, it’ll just take time to get back to how we used to be.”

“What if I don’t want to go back to how we used to be?” he asks hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep pretending anymore.” “Pretending about what? Han, you're scaring me.” “I’ve been in love with you for years. I thought that I would be ok with just being friends, but I’m not, not anymore.” “Why did you never say anything before?”

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” “Han, I’ve been in love with you for years. I thought that I had made it so obvious.” “Apparently not, but I guess that is why I’m part of paboracha.” “What does this mean for us now?”

“Hopefully, you’ll let me take you on a date and eventually call you my girlfriend?” “I’d really like that.” “Do you think you are up to joining the group for the rest of the movie night or do you want to maybe go lay down in my room and cuddle and talk?”

“Cuddling and talking sounds really nice right now. I’ve really missed my best friend.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He steps up to me, pulling me into him, kissing my forehead.

He gently took my hand, pulling me out of Minho’s room and into his own room. We laid down together but didn’t talk much, just enjoying each other's company. It felt nice to finally be held by him. I had dreamed of being held by him like this for years and truthfully never thought that it would happen. 

“Y/nnie, I want to take you on a date.”

“I’d really like that.” “I want to take you out tomorrow night.”

“Ok.” I say sleepily.

“Dress fancy but not too fancy.”

With that we both fell into silence, it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t long until I was falling asleep, the warmth of Han’s hold on me and the comfort of being in his arms finally as something more than just his best friend. 

The Next Night:

I was filled with nervous energy, not because I thought that the date would go wrong but because I was finally going on a date with the man that I had been in love with for years. I knew that I had no reason to be nervous, but I couldn’t help it. It wouldn’t be long until he got there and I felt nowhere near ready enough for this, and he would be here in ten minutes. 

When Han finally got here, I was excited yet nervous for the date to start. When I opened the door to let Han in, he surprised me by having my favorite flowers. I think I had told him once in passing about what my favorite flowers were, so to have him remember meant a lot to me. Once the flowers were in a vase and I was ready to go, we headed out to dinner. 

After Dinner:

Dinner had gone so smooth that we hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. It was only when I let out a big yawn that I realized just how late it was. Han had decided that he didn’t want to take me somewhere super fancy, rather to a cute diner that he and Minho had come across. As Han walked me up to my door, I could tell that neither of us wanted the date to be over. 

“I had a really good time tonight Hannie.” “I’m really glad, I was nervous about messing up tonight.” “I’m sad that it’s over.” “I don’t either, I miss having my best friend with me. And now I’m gonna miss you even more, knowing that you feel the same.” “Hannie, would you maybe want to come inside? I-I don’t feel like being alone tonight.” “Y-you want me to spend the night? Are you sure?” “I am, but only if you are comfortable with it.” “Yes, yes. Let me shut the car off and then I’ll come in. Go get your pajamas on, I’ll lock up when I come in.” “Ok, Hannie.” I say quietly, kissing his cheek.

I was pulling on my t-shirt when Han knocked on my bedroom door, not wanting to invade my privacy. He was being shy and sweet and it made my heart swell with love for him. 

“Hannie, you can come in. I have some of your clothes in a drawer from before.” “Perfect, I’m gonna change in the bathroom and then I’ll be out.” “Don’t take too long, I want cuddles.” “Of course Jagi, can’t deprive my girl of her cuddles.” “Oh, I’m your girl now?”

“Aren’t you?” “I don’t know, I know we’ve both admitted our feelings but other than that we haven’t really talked about where to go.” “Let me change and then we can talk.” He quickly ran into the bathroom, trying to change quickly. In his rush he must have missed the leg hole of his pants or something because not long after he disappeared I heard a loud crash coming from the bathroom followed by an embarrassed I’m ok.

“Hannie, did you just fall over?” “Noooo.” 

“Ok, dork.”

He shyly exited the bathroom, holding the t-shirt I had given him. I had seen his tattoos before but it still caught me off guard every time I saw them. I was slightly confused as to why he didn’t have a shirt on, he usually was pretty good about wearing a shirt unless he was really warm.

“Han, not that I mind but why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” “Umm, it doesn’t fit anymore. The seams damn near ripped when I tried to put it on.” “Oh. Um, that’s the biggest shirt of yours that I have.” “Is it going to make you uncomfortable if I don’t wear a shirt?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Not at all, you know that I like skin to skin contact. It’s calming and relaxing to me.” “Then let’s lay down.” he crawls into bed.

As he lays down I thought that maybe we would continue to talk but rather we just enjoyed each other’s company. As soon as he laid down he pulled me into him, holding me close to him like he was afraid that I would disappear if he let go. When I looked up at him, his eyes kept flickering between my eyes and my lips. 

“Hannie, can I try something?” “Sure.”

“Can you close your eyes?”

When he closed his eyes, I slowly leaned into him, I could feel his breath hitch. I didn’t let that sike me out from what I wanted to do, before I could second guess myself I gently pressed my lips to his. It took him longer than I thought for him to respond, I thought that he might be rejecting the kiss but right as I was about to pull away he wrapped his arms tighter around me and deepend the kiss. Kissing him felt like having a breath of fresh air for the first time in years. 

“I’m never letting you go now Jagi, you’re mine until you stop wanting me.” He said quietly.

“Then I guess I’ll be yours forever. I love you Hannie.”

“I love you too y/n, and I’m so sorry it took me almost losing you for me to get my head out of my ass and actually come clean.”

“It’s in the past, let's focus on our future.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Listening to his breathing as he slowly falls asleep, I know that everything is how it should be and that life will continue to get better as long as I have him by my side. I curl into him more, finding comfort in his presence next to me, knowing that all is how it should be and will continue to get better.

Bang Chan | Lee Know | Seo Changbin | Hwang Hyunjin | Lee Felix | Kim Seungmin | Yang Jeongin

@vietjeb , @riri53, @expired-vibes

[akanemnon]

So um..................

I know your on a break but uh.. it was bound to happen but I suppose some things don't make sense now in twin runs right like toroiel.?

But also OH MY GOD WHAT A RIDE

What are your thoughts on the new chapters?

I suggest you read this post or the FAQ

Either way Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 talk under the cut

SOOOOOOO that just happened.

I know the two chapters would be very different in tone, but I didn't think it would be THAT stark of a contrast.

I REALLY did not expect the Roaring Knight to make an appearance that early as Chapter 3. I honestly thought they would make their first appearance in Chapter 4, BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING. Because WHOOOO that was a ride. I'm quite bad at the game, so I didn't get the shadow mantle before the encounter. But I DID see what happens when you actually go ahead and beat them! That puts so much shit into perspective. Especially with everything that's involving Kris.

I'm sure the fandom is busy putting all the puzzle pieces together and stuff. I know I AM! But it does feel nice to see that my interpretation of their dislike for the Player but outright needing them is pretty accurate. I didn't expect to be smacked with hockey stick, but hey... I getchu Kris. And I am really sorry.

ANOTHER thing I called was how dead people can turn into Darkners when tethered to an object. I feel really vindicated in my writing when I saw that.

Also can we talk about Gerson???? CAN WE TALK ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING GERSON BOOM???? Man, I am SO GLAD he got to shine in chapter 4. His presence in Undertale as a veteran of the human and monster war was already super interesting. And now he is IN THE FRIGGIN SPOTLIGHT AS A MENTOR FIGURE. I AM EATING THIS UP. Also his battle theme is a certified banger.

Oh yeah, speaking of the characters in general, I am SO HAPPY how much growth we got from both Susie and Ralsei in these two chapters. It is so insane how well-written these characters are. IT FEELS SO FUCKING REAL. Man, this is why Toby is such a big inspiration in writing for me. AND I DIDN'T EVEN MENTION TENNA YET????? I swear, when I first saw him I was instantly thinking of all the other Tenna interpretations out there and how they could have NEVER predicted this. And the SPAMTON CONNECTIONS??? These two idolized one another and took so much from each other but could never be the other. That is both sad and hilarious at the same time-

ALSO THE FUCKING TITAN AT THE END????? Now I can see why Toby would've never been able to do Deltarune as his first project. This shit was INSANE /verpos

I could go for hours about this btw. Still finding secrets here and there and rewriting bits from The Other Script as we speak...

[thydungeongal]

That encounter joke Anon is wrong. Every 5e GM I've ever met went the route of "one fight per day oh my boss is already dead accutally he has 50 more hitpoints and now here's 2 more minions now the fight is properly exciting and dramatic" and the lack of a poker face meant we all knew.

How do you feel about that kind of rewriting, anyway?

For context, none of the GMs ever admitted to this on the LFG posts, or the pitches, etc.

I'm not opposed to it on principle. Ultimately I do think it's a bit like "oh so you're shifting the goalposts when it seems like the party is winning the encounter more easily than you think they should have," but ultimately that's just a maladaptive response to a different issue. Which is, once again, people trying to run D&D as a game it very much is not.

D&D isn't a game of epic bossfights where characters snatch victory from the jaws of defeat after an extended combat encounter. It can produce such encounters but they will usually emerge incidentally, not naturally. D&D is ultimately a game of attrition, of managing character resources through the course of an extended period, and even though D&D 5e's actual expectations of what an adventuring day is supposed to look like are whack D&D 5e does support a type of gameplay that relies on managing resources over an adventuring day much better than it does "a single epic setpiece encounter per day."

Because ultimately D&D is at its best when it's about weaponized player agency and system mastery, and in modern D&D this sometimes manifests as "the party knew they were going up against a lich so utilizing everything they know about liches they kicked that guy's ass in two turns." Now that would be really anticlimactic if the GM had set that encounter up as narrative culmination of a campaign that had been leading up to this moment for two years. But if you take it as "just one more encounter in the story of a bunch of assholes trying to grow stronger and more epic" then it's just a moment of those characters getting to flex for a moment.

Now of course adjusting the stats of a monster on the fly is sort of a problem in that it goes against the game and thus undermines player expression within the game. When the group pulls off a cool trick that immediately deals a million points of damage to the dragon's dick and you say "oh actually the dragon had two million hit points" then you're ultimately undermining player expression. I don't think this makes someone a bad GM because the motivation behind it is usually to provide a more entertaining experience for the group, but it is a sign of a GM fighting against the system and not knowing what it does, and they and their group would probably be better served by another game. And given that players won't necessarily know that happened it maintains the illusion that the game does produce that type of encounter.

My advice? As a GM, be honest: "hey, I didn't think you all would one-shot that boss. Are you okay if we add a bit more HP to that thang?" And if this is a consistent issue of the game not producing the type of experience the group wants they should ultimately look for a different game.

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like night and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[softlyopulent-if]

What To Expect Going Forward:

Rewrite: First and foremost, I’m going to be rewriting Softly, Opulent. I have much improved in the time since that first demo dropped, and I’m going to rewrite it to show it. Along with the rewrite, some things in the story will be tweaked:

Characters: Some characters are going through a rework. I had an idea for their stories that’s changing now. The ROs will be tweaked just a bit too—but don't worry, they’ll keep those basic traits that they have already.

Magic System: This won’t be a drastic change with what I have in the demo. But there is some mention of Dalia having magic in chapter one. It’s very brief, but I’m taking it away. There is also an option in the intro post to learn magic but that’s not going to be an option anymore. Magic will still exist in the world, but be much more restricted and only a few select characters will use it. That’s because all magic comes with a price, in the words of Rumpelstiltskin and all that.

Rating: The story is going to be 18+ now. It’s not a really big change, but the reasons for this is simple: there will be sexually explicit content and more in this rewrite, while the plan was only suggestive content before.

Redesign: The itch.io page will be going through an update, and so will the intro post here on tumbler. I will make an updated intro post with the updated info soon. More importantly, the UI of the story itself is going through a rework too.

Pronouns: I want the MC to be more grounded in the world. Gender roles will be more prominent. I’m adding a transgender option instead, if that’s something that people aren’t against. I’m not sure about the non-binary option. I wanted to remove the option to have that choice in the very beginning. Let me know if it’s something you guys want to have as a choice later on (when MC is in a healthier environment), as it’ll take into account whether MC is AFAB or AMAB. (If this makes sense.)

A. I’m on the fence about making A’s gender the opposite of MC no matter what. Let me know if everyone would hate that. I'm only considering this because I wanted to have homophobia be a factor in some stories. But I’m willing to do away with that if everyone wants A’s gender to be their choice.

I think I’ve covered roughly everything. I know this is a lot to take in and I hope it isn’t a deal breaker for some people. The foundation of the story will remain the same!

[ik33ponmakingc00ki3s]

"I think my frontal lobe just developed bro"

(I got flashed for searching up skirts so I chose flowers instead)

Genshin Chars reaction to you wearing a pencil skirt

They've been having these feelings for awhile now and you wearing the skirt just gave them a boost

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Al Haitham, Childe, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli x GN! reader (not separated)

Genre: Romcom, fluff-ish

Warnings: Mentions of Abortion on Aether's part, Mentions of Suicide on Childe's part (This is not angst I swear)

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

(A/n): Fuckass app bro (It's my fault tbh). Yesterday I had to rewrite everyone's parts half-based on the screen record as Diluc's part was pasted at the word counter website. So thank God.

I got sleepy, didn't notice I posted my draft so I panicked, and deleted it. So here's a rewritten version of it and I hope it's better, I just add in the scenarios that I can remember. And I'm sorry if some chars are ooc--

New: Gave this chapter a few minor updates!

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Part 1 ❀˖ °

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Header made by me <3

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Aether✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The twin that's 5 seconds younger than Lumine. Charming, Sporty, and helpful towards people (Especially to you)

Lumine groaned as she couldn't HANDLE any more shit from the 'could've been aborted twin' because he couldn't stop talking about you for days now. The way how you talk, your style, your laugh--OH when you laughed at his joke one time too! Lumine hissed and slammed the door against his face. "She deserves someone way more funnier!" leaving a sulking Aether as he prepared for school.

Ever since you walked through the door, he choked on his drink as 2/5 people that cared to check on him gave him a questioning look and faced towards the location he was looking seconds ago. Wiping his mess, he looked up to see some of them staring at him because you walking around a pencil skirt made him act like that.

You sure do have some cake in there huh, should've worn that pencil skirt since the first day so they got something to look forward to and attend school everyday---WHAT WHO SAID THAT???

That aside, Venti and Heizou were gonna have a field day about this as they teased the fuck out of Aether, and Lord he was BEGGING them internally to stop because you were just 2 seats in front of him, Talking with Mona and Ganyu about how nervous you feel for your defense against your research. He was frantic, nervous, ashamed even, "Guys please don't risk it.." He sighed nervously, fingers tapping, eyes switching towards them and you, hoping you hear none of their BS.

"Hey Aether! could we borrow your stapler real quic- oh! thanks" Your voice snapped him out of his state as his now buttery fingers searched for his stapler on his desk and gave it to you quick--almost dropping it in the process when your fingers lightly touched his, pressing his lips in a straight line while his skin warmed up. Sitting up properly, he saw Venti and Heizou look at him like he eats burgers with a spoon and fork.

"What-"

"Dude, you just straight up gave them your stapler without answering them"

Aether froze, he didn't realize that. He was so caught up in his own situation that he didn't bother answering you, and that made him melt out of embarrassment, he hoped that you didn't mind that behavior from him as he crossed his arms on the table and laid his head on top. Groaning at the heat as Heizou and Kazuha were lightly laughing at him from the side while Venti kept on smooching and teasing tf out of him.

"Guys can you just fucking practice? We're doing defense today"

Scara groaned, he was annoyed by just witnessing all this with Childe yapping besides his ear. Aether thanked him silently as he lifted his head up and stole glances from you from time to time, calming himself down as you chat away with your groupmates with your legs crossed as he looked away. He and his group were aware of his feelings towards you, and he knows that his best friends were into you too.

That's why he's gonna beg Lumine for some info from you since you guys are hella close, he has to know your favorite food, color, or your favorite sanrio character and he hopes that its the popular ones like cinnamoroll or pompompuri instead of the ones with long ass names like Fuwafuwanyankomitai- fucking whatever.

He'll be sure to do it--no he will do it because he knows that there are other great people outside his group that are interested in you too and he'll do his best as he can.

Albedo✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your Golden boy who's your Class crush, Class president AND who's ALSO your group leader He def didn't stay behind class to convince your teacher to switch groups and make him the leader

With Albedo on your side, he can give your group a free pass to success, He was literally chosen to be a part of the Top 5 students to join but declined it because it would hinder his studies and that the school would just use him for bragging rights.

Your group is so lucky to have him or else your performance would've been in ruins with the panelists getting up on your asses with the smallest of mistakes. The other groups were having high hopes of him being in their group, but thank God he switched, because he knows that they'll rely on him too much and dump the difficult parts on him.

And so he enjoyed his limited time with you and did his best to give this group a stable backbone, making sure that they know what they're doing as he helped them in their parts when they asked for it.

Oh especially with you, he likes helping you a lottttt.

Eager was he as he sat besides you one time, he was so glad that the "teacher grouped him up" with you-- asking if you needed help, and before you could say no, he had your favorite drink and placed it in front of you. And before you could answer again, he beat you to it, "I was wondering if you tried this one actually, it's getting popular these days..." What a fucking liar, he saw you order this drink 3 times when he was studying at a cafe during his free time. You just didn't notice him as much like he does to you.

You wore a pencil skirt when you went to a group meeting one time and he couldn't almost concentrate, and now that you're wearing it again with a different style, he got a bit distracted as he unintentionally complimented you before and after the defense.

"You dress yourself like how Pierre Auguste Cot paints his muses" and "People keep leaving fashion shows because you weren't there to perform"

You were too stunned to speak as he gave you a small smile, even if you didn't know who Pierre is, even if you hated modeling, he would still see you as an icon--a muse, in his view. With your quiet state, he then realized that he complimented you 2 times in one day, clenching his jaw but kept the same face. He just hoped that you aren't weirded out by him with all the things he's doing, but oh he has to you know. He has to be 5 steps ahead of everyone, and always have to be 5 steps ahead of everything. That's his way to receiving such high achievements and go way beyond people's expectations.

So he's not letting this go so easily, no, he's moving mountains just to get closer to you and bloom to something more. He knows how to play with your buttons as he felt piercing stares behind his back, they're watching and they're mad, but what can they do? He always has to be ahead of them and that's what riled the tension more. So after checking the attendance three times, he called you again with a gentle smile, holding himself back from wanting to touch your hair and put them behind your ear, corny but cute.

"You did very well in the performance, I think you even pleased the panelists too. Now, I'd like to ask you, if we ever get to collaborate again, can it be in a restaurant next time?"

Al-haitham✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One of the Top 5 students who put their school's name to championship but he's such an ass. Not with you tho, he's "trying" to upgrade the relationship between the two of you but is just a pussy too busy for it

Walking around the hallways, Al-Haitham and Kaveh were having their usual morning routine, coffee at 7:30 am and sticking up rocks in each other's asses. He just came from the championship days ago and took another few days break before heading back to school again "Hey Haitham look, 2 o'clock in front." Kaveh whispered as he looked up.

It was you, wearing a black pencil skirt with the length stretching down above your knees with a medium slit in the side, along black stockings and heels. Fixing your papers and signing attendances with Ganyu. God damn, even if you two don't meet as "much" he can't help but feel shameful for having feelings like these towards you. "Hey man, you've been staring for a while now, something in your mind?"

He angrily looked away and saw that Cyno was waving his hand in front of his view, his voice increased at the 'staring' part as it grabbed a few student's attention walking by. Thinking he was a pervert checking out on people.

"What the fuck do you want" He hissed as Cyno raised both his hands (Absolute Cinema) "Look-- I know you wanna bag them so bad, but atleast do something about it, other students from different classes are making their move while you're here staring" He wasn't lying, he felt like he was just a floater friend to you, talked a few times, bump into each other from hectic schedules, share small greetings whenever you meet.

Simple and casual stuff you know, you guys were grouped a few times, attending group meetings to having hangouts, going to small parties from other friends, to you begging him to play Online TCG and chatting on discord till 2 am, evolving to buying each other snacks when the other didn't eat.

Yeahhhhh floater friend.

"I'll think about it." He wanted to make a move too but he thinks that you aren't that interested in him. He himself is stubborn, especially in situations like this, convincing himself that everything's neutral. Even if his friends push him to go for it, he doesn't want to ruin the "small" friendly relationship you both had.

Sooo for now, he's just gonna lay-low and test the water before dipping in. Eyeing your ass view before heading to his own class.

"Think quick and hard soldier, OR I can help you set up with them. Yk, spy on some friends of mine to get info about you." Cyno offered to him as Al-haitham huffed.

"I can do it myself, but if there's no choice then I'll let it be--"

"Booooooo this is why you don't get bitches, you don't fight for them." With the sullen tone Kaveh had, Cyno snorted as Nari came up. His long fluffy ears twitching as he sniffed into the not so new topic of his circle.

"Hm, still having trouble with that special person you're afraid of confessing to Haitham?"

"I'm not planning to."

"And why's that? Afraid of getting rejected because you didn't want to ruin the only connection you have with them?"

He paused, thinking for a bit and before he could answer, the professor came in as everyone settled to their seats.

He let a frustrated sigh and thought, fuck it, it's either he keeps it in or take the risk of becoming more than just a "floater" friend to you, and if it works out, he can see more of you wearing pencil skirts till both of you reach your 40s, he doesn't mind that.

So there he sits in his own thoughts, contemplating what his friends said, and you wearing that skirt-- I mean making the first move towards you before it's too late.

Childe✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

• The transfer student that got a "bit" distracted when you wore a pencil skirt that he fumbled his performance but made up for it

As Childe was typing away, finalizing the powerpoint as he saw a figure walk in the classroom. He glanced up for a bit then back--wait. He did a double look and saw that the baddie wearing the corporate uniform was actually you! The one who he admires oh so much!

"Какое зрелище..."

(What a sight to see...)

He breathed in and out as he went back to his work, Albedo put him in charge for finalizing the small errors present in each slide as he stared for the screen for awhile, looking at you, then back at the screen, than looked up to you, then back, then to you, then back, then you-- ok he wasn't even typing anymore as he was just looking up and down.

He hoped no one noticed as he snapped back to work and tried to finish it at best as he didn't attend a group meeting once because of family matters. Wanting to gush about you to Scara, asking him if he saw you, then get back to his notes. He faced his direction while Scara was trying to focus on his paper, leaning besides him as Childe ruined his focus and filled it about you. And yikes, he swore that Scara was about to punch him in the face but cussed at him and his groupmates instead.

Childe was used to it but sulked back to his seat and read his notes as the Professor and a few panelists came in the room, telling everyone to prepare for their defense.

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

When it was his turn to present the next slide, his heart dropped, 3 words glued together was shown at the screen, an obvious typo in the presentation as some of his classmates stifled a laugh. "Shelooksgood" was written in the PowerPoint as Albedo sighed while some of your groupmates were getting nervous.

He panicked as he apologized for the mistake he made, along came Albedo who partly took the blame as the both of them didn't want their group to have deducted points. Enough to sway some panelists and let it off the hook, now he pretended that this never happened and locked-in with his presentation instead, ignoring his heart beating quick and mouth going dry.

Thank God he didn't put your name in there or else he'd shoot himself out of embarrassment, because changing his name, face, and identity would NOT save him from all of this.

So when he finished his part, he went back to his spot--hoping that it's enough to not deduct them or atleast give him minus points on his individual score instead. The professor gave a small nod of approval and so Childe glanced your way as you gave him a small smile, a 'Good job' expression that made his heart flutter.

He's definitely gonna talk about you to his family after this to get some advice from Mom and Pa on how to court someone who lured him in so fast.

Childe spaced out for a bit and snapped back when he heard your voice, calmly presenting but nervous inside, just like how he did his performance awhile ago. He wasn't trying to be weird or anything...he's just projecting his support for you imaginarily, hoping that you'd feel lighter and that the support you feel was coming from him. Till Mona lightly jabbed his side and whispered, "Stop staring at her, the red-headed panelist's observing us."

He looked at her then at the red-head, ah Diluc, since when did he become the student panelist? Anyways, Childe lightly scoffed then slowly fixed his posture creating small tension between him and Diluc as they had a small stare-off, only for a few seconds as your view came in between them with no care as you were answering the Professor's questions. Not knowing you unintentionally stopped something sinister brewing.

He let himself relax and just watched you, waiting for class to end to call his parents ASAP, he wants to get the cookie so bad frfr.

Diluc✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The student panelist who was harsh on other research group members but not you. He did a pretty good job with it too actually--Did I mention that he volunteered for it because he wanted to see you?

It's not a surprise that one of Ragnvindr's son would be at the top 5 students who'd bring home a certificate and trophy, along with making his father proud. Diluc didn't want to ruin anyone's expectation as he's carrying his father's last name. Hardworking and well-liked around the campus and office, so when his father asked if he wanted to be part of being a research panelist, he hesitated, thinking of wanting to back-out as his assignments and deadlines were piling up.

"One of your friends are in this class--don't worry about your grades falling off, they give credit for it as long as you reach their standards for paneling. They need students like you son, you're fit for it!"

His father said as he gave him the list of students with their assigned classroom, his eyes scanning names from the alphabetically ordered list, then stopped, '(L/n)', ah you're there. This could be his chance to get close to you as he immediately agreed to volunteer, receiving a pat on the back by his father.

-----------

Now he's sitting in your classroom, facing you and your group as he paid attention to the performance. He listened close, he listened well, and he also stared down at you for a full 30 seconds when you were telling your part and looked down at the paper, counting how many seconds then back to you, amazed by your style as he didn't notice that the panelist besides him was calling for him.

"Sir Diluc? It's your turn to ask them, do you have any questions?"

Ah, he didn't notice that he was distracted as he cleared his throat, "I don't have any questions about the paper but, I'd like to ask why did none of your groupmates help out on finalizing the PowerPoint?"

He asked, not amused as The ginger and the blonde took the blame and apologized, hoping that a small mistake wouldn't affect their scores. He'll let it pass. For now.

During the small incident, he knows that Childe was talking about you.

So he just nodded and let it be, seeing your face relieved as he let out a small smile before getting stoic. Noticing that a certain ginger was staring at him too.

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

After class, he denies all the complaints from his friends (who was in the same class as you) as he was being unfair towards them. But all he said was

"I just simply stated facts because that group followed what they were told to do, their title doesn't sound complicated, they followed the aide memoir, their objectives were clear, they didn't copy paste their research and winged it, they didn't forget to put their references, AND they defended their research with good points, now tell me, what is wrong with me giving a bit of praise for a group that did their best? Aside from that small occurrence with one of their groupmates..." Diluc knows damn well what he said was basic to most research groups, except for the copy pasting, reference, and defense part, he called those out in other groups that failed to reach their objectives. He's definitely biased towards you but can't admit it out loud.

Aside from that, The 3 second stare off with Childe awhile ago was a threat to him, he saw how Childe was looking at you, how Albedo complimented you at the start and end of the defense, how the other students were whispering about your outfit behind him-- You pulled yourself a lot of admirers huh?

That won't do, he was getting eager to talk to you, so he mustered up the courage and sent a simple compliment and swiftly went out the classroom, leaving you confused as Albedo called you in. Ignoring all the looks from other people, heading to his father's office with his ears all red.

What's with the rush?

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

A/n: Hey Ho! IM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER BRO and I overdid Childe, Haitham, and Diluc's part, it's supposed to just be 610-615 words each but nah, I squeezed what I can think off with the others and even thought of removing Al-Haitham too, but nahhh. IM SO MAD AT HOW IT TOOK ME DAYS TO WRITE THIS LIKE??? HUH??😭😭💔

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous “king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. 

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Broken Mind | Josh Washington x Reader

......

Another day, another Until Dawn rewrite by yours truly <3

I've got Rami Malek on the brain again so I decided to revise this old 2016 fic I wrote about Josh being accompanied by Reader in the shed (after his prank reveal). Changed a few things around and added stuff from the prologue, but all in all the plot's the same (except they're together)

Anyways enjoy!

......

"Hey, [y/n]. Got a special delivery for you."

Hearing the quiet giggles of the Washington sisters, you looked up from your phone and smiled upon seeing your boyfriend being held up by the two of them.

He looked plastered as hell and half-asleep, but his eyes were slightly open. The moment they landed on you, lopsided grin spread across his lips.

"[Y/n]...baby...?"

"Yes. It's me, Josh." With a chuckle, you put down your phone and assisted the girls in helping him lay on the sofa. You decided to let him rest on top of you, seeing as he already had his arms wrapped around your torso. "Jeez, so clingy, huh? How much did you drink?"

"Mhm...I forgot.." His words were slurred.

"Of course you did." Putting your arms around him, you lightly scratched at his scalp with your fingertips, hearing his hums of content as he looked to his sisters.

While Hannah left, Beth smiled back and took a picture of him being all cuddly with you, reminding herself to send to you later. After that, she finally left you both alone.

"They take good care of you."

"Yeah..they're..the best." Josh mumbled tiredly into your chest, hugging you tighter. "But 'm glad you're here...thank you for being by my side. I love you sooooooooooo much."

"Of course, Joshie. I love you, too." You chuckled, holding him close until he dozed off again, before you ended up falling asleep yourself, enveloped by the warmth of the cabin fire and the one you loved most.

He probably won't remember much of this in the morning, but that was fine.

For once, everything felt right in the world.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"[Y/n], honey? Baby? Sweetheart?"

Blinking, you returned to the cold and cruel present, looking to the man tied to the post.

"Yes, Josh?" You sighed tiredly, wiping the blood from the corner of your lip.

"I'm pretty cold. How 'bout we loosen these restraints a little and-?"

"I'm sorry, but...I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"What? I....I can't believe it. You would let those jerks do this to me?!! Your boyfriend? After all I've done for you?!!" Angrily, Josh tugged at his restraints, gnashing his teeth at you like some animal. "I feel hurt. Who does this to someone they love?!"

"First of all, I didn't tie you up. And second...you're not the only one who's gotten hurt tonight."

"If anyone deserves to feel hurt, it should be me! After what they did to my sisters..they had it coming."

As much as you wanted to snap at him for acting this way, you knew that he wasn't well, and getting angry right back wasn't going to make anything better.

Instead, you opted to look outside the shed, observing the snowfall while trying to ignore the sounds of him whining and struggling with the ropes.

Such sights used to calm your nerves, but now...it was nothing more than a grim reminder of how long and unforgiving this night has been, and how there's still a few hours until sunlight and rescue arrived.

How did you get here?

Well, it was supposed to be a reunion between friends.

You and Josh were still together after the horrible tragedy that befell his sisters exactly one year prior, and you were with him through the long days he spent trying to isolate himself, and the difficult nights he spent wishing he didn't wake up at all.

You stayed with him no matter what.

No matter how many times he tried pushing you away...you always stayed. And while he didn't express it as much as he wanted to, he appreciated it.

That's the only reason why he didn't subject you to the "prank" he had laid out for the rest of the group.

You knew his passion for film projects, having helped him with some small YouTube ones yourself. You knew that this year, he wanted to do something to "really bring the gang back together", and you let him be when he insisted on working alone.

God, why didn't you press him on what exactly this prank entailed?

Why didn't you pick up the signs that he was off his meds?

What he enacted was horrific beyond measure--a prank that you didn't even think he was capable of carrying out.

One that seemed so real that you were almost convinced that you lost him to a murderer.

When Chris came to you sobbing in remorse over how the "Psycho" tricked him into killing your boyfriend, you didn't know what to feel. You wanted to see the body to confirm it, but given his and Ashley's reactions..it wasn't worth scarring your eyes or mind over.

It left you unbelievably sad and numb, although you were left confused when through his blubbering, he admitted that the saw blade was rigged to kill Josh despite choosing to save him.

That was the first sign that you knew something was off.

You didn't know anybody that held a massive grudge against him to the point of rigging a trap to murder him only.

But only after Josh revealed everything to Chris, Ashley, Sam, Mike, and you....that's when it all made sense.

And you felt betrayed.

You couldn't believe he'd orchestrate this whole scheme behind your back.

How could you have been so naive and trusting?

You felt like you should have known what he was up to. The others gave you suspicious looks and even Mike wondered for a moment if you were an accomplice...but you weren't.

That was the truth.

You had no idea.

Now all you felt was lingering guilt and festering anger that this was Josh's twisted idea of "revenge" against the people who didn't even kill his sisters. Against people like Chris who didn't even know what happened until he woke up.

And in a way, you felt like it was against you for not waking him up in time to stop the prank that led to Hannah and Beth running out of the cabin.

No matter how many times he claimed you had nothing to do with it, you felt like he was punishing you, too.

So now, you, Chris, and Mike have taken him away from the others, to a shed where he couldn't hurt anybody. Apparently Jess was dead, and despite his insistence that he didn't kill her....Mike didn't believe a word he said, having seen her body firsthand in some mining elevator.

Then when he started making lewd comments about Chris and Ashley, both of the men were growing agitated, debating on whether to make him shut up by force or not.

Finally, you intervened before they could decide, offering to watch over him until sunrise. You're the only one who had a small chance to talk some sense into him and make him realize his mistakes.

Mike was reluctant to leave you alone with him, thinking he'll guilt trip you into letting him go, but you convinced him and Chris you'll be fine.

There were some...scary things you've seen out in the woods earlier, and the last thing you wanna do is leave Josh alone with them nearby.

Even after all the shitty things he did, even after faking his own death...you still loved him.

You didn't believe he murdered Jess.

That's not what Josh would do.

"Your sisters wouldn't have wanted this." You quietly said, looking back at the wide-eyed man. "I wish things were different that night. I wish they didn't get humiliated. God, I wish Hannah had talked to me instead. But this...all of this was wrong, Josh. What happened doesn't justify-"

"But it worked, didn't it? Listen, I...I-I didn't want anyone dead." He stammered. "I just wanted to see that same terror on their faces. And I got them good! I got you all!!"

"...did you have to give Ash a black eye, though?"

"Look, she stabbed me with scissors! And it still hurts like a motherfucker."

You just gave him an expression that read "well I would have too if a killer was chasing me", and he seemed to understand...given how his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Baby, 'm sorry..this...was not how our night's supposed to go. But you know what? I'm glad I was the only one laughing! Because NOW THEY KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE!!" Tears of anger pricked his eyes as his voice unexpectedly rose.

You whole body tensed, but you stayed calm, knowing he's only lashing out. "Josh, I know they hurt you. And hurting them back might feel good..but you hurt me too by faking your own death and not telling me how far you intended to take this prank."

"..you would've stopped me if I told you." He mumbled.

"Well maybe I should've been more persistent." You huffed. "If I was, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have to talk about why Jess died and why you seem to be the prime suspect-"

"I swear to god, it wasn't me! I don't even know where she is!" Josh snapped, before he curled up, like a child in timeout. "Mike..he wouldn't explain the wheres and whens. He just kept hitting me, pushing me..telling me to shut up...but I didn't do it...I swear. Please, please believe me, [y/n]. I'm sorry that you got roped into this. I-It's..the..the last thing I wanted.." His voice softened. "I'm sorry I've been bad..."

Slowly, you could see bits and pieces of the Josh you once knew coming back. His mind wasn't all there, of course, but you've known him forever.

You should be thinking with your brain and not your heart.

But....

You still love him, and believe in second chances.

"Joshua."

He perked up, anticipating the worst as you pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. For you to say his name like that couldn't have been good.

Maybe you were gonna side with all the rest of them and spit on him.

Maybe you were gonna say that you're leaving him alone here, as Dr. Hill had warned would happen.

Maybe you were finally going to tell him what an unforgivable monster he wa-

"I believe you're innocent. You're not one to take a life. No matter what they say." You suddenly spoke, putting a hand to his soot-coated cheek

Almost immediately, his twitching stopped, and he stared straight at you.

It's like you put him in a trance.

"I'm not gonna leave you."

"..e-even though I've been..all messed up?" He asked cautiously. "I-I mean..I haven't been a good boyfriend lately..."

"That hasn't stopped me from being there for you before." You chuckled. "We're gonna work through this. Even if it's just you and I."

"............"

"I believe you when you say you didn't kill her. Do you believe me?"

It took him a few moments to study your expression, seeing the genuine care and warmth in your eyes. Despite all the horrors you've seen tonight, there was still a spark of hope in them.

That was the light he needed.

"...I-I do..I really do." He sniffled, resting his head on your shoulder, grateful that you didn't push him away despite being covered in dirt and fake blood. "'m sorry...I-I don't deserve you."

"Oh, honey..." You put your arms around him, sighing softly as you felt him tremble against you, tears slowly dampening your jacket. At this point, you knew you got him back, and you were so relieved. "We'll figure something out. Just stay with me."

"You don't think I'm a monster..?" He asked through his sobs. "I mean, everyone treated me like one...you've seen them.."

"....I know. Neither of us can change how they feel. But listen, the only monster here is-"

All of the sudden, a shrill inhumane screech echoed from somewhere outside, deep in the woods, interrupting the tender moment between you two.

Josh sat up with a start, his tearful eyes wide and terrified as he looked to you. "Wh-What was that?"

"That's the real monster I was gonna mention. They call it the Wendigo. Hang on." Crouching down, you managed to find a small pocketknife on his toolbelt, using it to cut the ropes binding him. "It's fast. But it's blind as fuck. We need to get out of here."

Nodding, he got up as quickly as he could, having no time to rub his aching wrists as you grabbed his hand.

The shrieks became louder, forcing you two to hide further inside the shed, sticking close to the back wall where the shadows were darkest. "Shit. Don't move a muscle, okay?"

His breath hitched as the wendigo dropped down in front of the entrance, creeping inside the small building to look for prey. But he took your advice and tried staying still.

You could practically hear you own heartbeat as you held your breath, thumping louder and louder as the creature wandered around. Josh watched it scrape its claws along the wall, creating a sound most unpleasant in an attempt to make him flinch.

It then made direct eye contact with you both.

While you managed to keep perfectly still, you could hear Josh's quiet whimpers, indicating he had a much harder time considering how jittery he was earlier.

All you could do was hope and pray it would leave.

Otherwise...both of you were dead.

Just when you thought your boyfriend was going to lose it completely, the distant snapping of a branch caused the wendigo to turn at blinding speed and sprint out of the shed, returning to the surrounding woods.

"Okay...thank christ.." Letting his hand go, you took a breather, only to see that he was still standing rigid. His eyes showed nothing but pure terror, as he began mumbling something like "was it real" under his breath.

"Josh? Baby?" You shook his shoulders a bit, and he blinked several times, coming back to reality. Relief immediately crossed his face as he realized you were still here. "It's okay. It's gone."

"Tha....That thing w-was real?"

"Yes. I know how to outsmart it. But we can't stay here. We'll be safer at the lodge with the others. We just gotta keep our heads down until then."

"But..what about the-?"

"Don't worry about them. Let's worry about getting out of here, alright?"

Wordlessly, Josh nodded, practically clinging to your arm as you both headed outside and down the snowy trail. He kept mumbling incoherent things, reassuring himself that he was safe with you.

Obviously, he seemed pretty shellshocked, considering the monster he just encountered was real and not a product of his imagination.

He didn't know whether that was better or worse.

Either way, you allowed him to hold onto you, knowing he needed someone--anyone--to lean on right now. And fortunately you were exactly the person he needed.

The only one who could help him come back to his senses.

You swore to never abandon him, and you intend to keep that promise even after all that happened tonight.

You still loved him, and he loved you.

That hasn't changed.

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS