#I dont think I said anything at the time but I am no longer on the yhsr crew

[3liza]

Really curious about your experience taking and deciding to take finasteride. I’m transmasc and I’ve got diffuse thinning from autoimmune/ autoimmune meds/ low dose testosterone, and would actually really love to have less body hair. I wonder how you balanced the possible side effects given that there’s a huge contingent saying anything from “I took it for 2 weeks and now have debilitating brain fog” to “I took it for a year and my dick shriveled up but I kept taking it and now my dick is stuck like this” etc.

long post

i'm not on T at the moment, the only hormone im taking is 5mg progestin/day for menstrual suppression, so idk how helpful my information will be. but here it is anyway

im taking 1mg a day finasteride, sometimes forgetting to take it, and i got mine from AllDayChemist. tthe effects i've noticed are first, that my nails are now growing annoyingly fast, but unfortunately they dont seem very strong so i have to cut or file them every couple days. this seems promising because as recently as a couple years ago i was still growing genetically long, strong nails just like my mom and my nail decline over the past couple years seems to suggest some sort of problem with them.

as for hair, i already have very long hair, and it's properly spiral curly, so determining exactly how much longer it has gotten in a period of time can be tricky, but i THINK it is also growing faster. when it's wet in the shower is when i can see where it is reaching relative to my back/hips, and it seems like it has grown back down to my tailbone very quickly since the last trim. I also see a lot of baby hairs around the observable areas on my hairline, and my widow's peak (which has always been very defined even when i was a kid, it's not a pattern baldness widow's peak) has a handful of what look like new hairs that are the appropriate length to have started growing since i started finasteride. also, and this is the biggest relief, when i brush my hair i am shedding a LOT less. like maybe 20-30% of the hair that i used to lose in my hairbrush is there now. i initially started this finasteride experiment because my shedding was getting so bad and i was noticing significant volume loss, so only seeing a fraction of the hairball size in my hairbrush as i used to is really great

naturally i neglected to take any "before" photos because im just not that organized, so my data sucks.

as for other effects.....i really havent noticed any at all. my brain fog is bad all day everyday at my baseline, so it's possible that anything finasteride is contributing is just being lost in the background noise. however, on the other hand, the obsessive self-monitoring of the sick person may also mean im in a good position to notice that kind of thing. i dont know.

i think my eyelashes are being affected positively. i forgot to take finasteride for about three days last week and noticed that i lost about six eyelashes that day, so i think they were finasteride lashes but who knows.

as for feminizing effects, like i said, i usually pluck my beard hairs (im fem-presenting rn) on about a monthly basis, and i have about four or five of them on my chin, and a peach fuzz mustache with five or six darker hairs that i shave or pluck sometimes too. since starting finasteride most of the beard hairs just havent grown in. i haven't noticed any breast tenderness or body feminization, i think i look about the same naked as i always do, so i dont think im getting any body fat redistribution either. i havent noticed any sexual effects either but i'm in a semi-asexual period at the moment anyway so im not sure how much i would notice finasteride changing that stuff anyway.

i think the online drug effects anecdotes are a valuable source of data, but that the data is generally low quality. the people reporting on what they think are side effects are extremely impressionable and also suck at noticing confounding factors, and stuff that's very personal and very psychological like erectile dysfunction are basically impossible to get good data for outside of a lab. it's one of the most vulnerable factors to placebo/nocebo effects, and erectile function declines with age anyway at about the same time people start taking finasteride, so i just dont think reddit posts are trustworthy on this topic. someone could easily have turned 35, started taking finasteride because they were losing enough hair for it to bother them (normal at that age), and then also started experiencing age-related erection decline at the same time for reasons unrelated to finasteride, and just done the human thing of associating the two unrelated events. on the other hand hormones are weird and theres every reason to expect an exogenous drug thats doing stuff to your "masculine" endogenous hormones could affect your penits. its not unrealistic at all.

drug companies bend over backwards to hide side effects that only come to light many years after a large general population is exposed to a drug. so i dont think you can discount this stuff either. i just tend to assume most of the reddit side effects are partially bad data and partially exaggerated, even as i take them seriously.

in conclusion hormones are truly weird and have unpredictable effects. i think it's probably not the case that trialing a low dose of finasteride for a few months would permanently damage you, but i cant state that with certainty because idk,. shit happens and there are edge cases for everything.

edit: i just remembered i used an epilator on my legs around the same time i started taking it. i dont have a lot of body hair normally so idk how good this data is, but i THINK my leg hair has been growing back less, and thinner, than it was before i yanked em all out. kind of hard to tell since epilators usually cause really bad ingrowns on me, i dont really have the right hair texture to be using one in the frist place. but this epilation growback SEEMS less hairy than it usually is.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch4

"For good service and cute waitresses”

pairing: pre military!jungkook x secret fuckbuddy!oc

contents: profanity, smut, fluff, humour, celeb au, angsty chapter guys </3, jungkook hurts oc unintentionally! Nari is mean (in a good way, we love nari here.) oc overthinks! mentions of ptd jungkook

smut warnings: f!masturbation, oc has dirty thoughts about jungkook, semi detailed description of masturbation, vibrator!

wc: idk yall but its lengthy

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @dreamersparacosm (cmnt to be added!)

a/n: updating this story hopefully every 2 days now :) this chap was pretty hard and i pretty much just winged it, how do we feel so far guys?! is there anything specifically anyone wants to see (like interactions between oc + jk?) or anything at all! please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading <3 mwah

masterlist < prev | next >

The screen of your phone glares back at you, Jungkook’s unread message still sitting at the bottom of your screen.

So am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

A few day’s ago, this would’ve sent you into full panic mode. Or even having his number in your phone?! Even yesterday you might’ve overthought it for an hour before even considering replying. Making Nari type out your messages, but today, you’re different.

Or at least, you pretend you are.

The coffee shop hums around you, filled with the gentle murmur of conversation, the soft clinking of cups, the steady whir of the espresso machine. Your laptop sits open, your untouched document staring back at you, the blinking cursor mocking your lack of productivity.

Your errands are halfway done—grocery shopping still pending, laundry detergent still forgotten, but at least you’ve made it out of the house. That’s a win, right?

You take a sip of your drink, only to realize it’s already gone cold. Great.

With a sigh, you stretch your legs under the table, cracking your neck before finally giving in to temptation. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for only a second before you type back.

[ iMessage ]

Y/N: Maybe I just like to keep you waiting.

A response comes almost instantly.

Unknown number: That’s a dangerous game to play with me.

A small smirk tugs at your lips. So he wants to play?

Y/N: And what happens if i make you wait?

Unknown number: You’ll find out soon enough.

Heat curls at the base of your spine, unexpected but not unwelcome. You should stop texting him—you still have things to do, a life to return to—but instead, you let the conversation go on a little longer. A few more back-and-forths, a few more teasing remarks, until finally, your phone vibrates with a different notification.

Nari (5:57 PM) Incoming Call…

You sigh, shaking yourself out of your Jungkook-induced haze before swiping to answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Nari’s voice is playful, but there’s a pout underneath it. “You’re not coming over tonight, are you?”

“Rain check?” you say, already wincing. “I have, like, a million things to do.”

Nari groans dramatically. “I knew it. You always bail when I need you most.”

“You literally saw me yesterday.”

“And?! You left without saying goodbye!”

You laugh, adjusting in your seat as you glance around the café. “I swear I’ll come over sometime this week. We’ll do face masks and eat too much takeout and—”

“And you’ll tell me all about Mr. Famous?”

Your mouth opens, then shuts.

Nari gasps. “OH. MY. GOD. YOU HAVE AN UPDATE, DON’T YOU?!”

“Shh!” you hiss, glancing around. “No, I don’t.”

“Liar! If you didn’t, you would’ve just said ‘no’ instead of ‘no I don’t’ like a liar!”

You don’t want to indulge in a gossip session with Nari as of right now. It sounds fun, but you’re in a quiet cafe, and you know you and her can get carried away.

You groan. “I really have to go, Nari.”

“You dont, bitch.”

“I love you too,” you say, shaking your head fondly. “I’ll update you next time I see you, okay?”

Nari sighs dramatically. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m at work all night, so I hope you’re having a better time than me.”

You glance at your laptop screen. The blank document stares back.

“Trust me,” you mumble. “I’m not.”

After saying your goodbyes, you hang up, slipping your phone back into your bag before forcing yourself to focus.

You wrap up your errands—grabbing the groceries you’ve been putting off, nearly forgetting the laundry detergent again, and finally heading home when your arms can’t carry any more.

By the time you step inside, your apartment feels like a time capsule of procrastination.

The pile of clothes on the chair? Unmoved. The dishes? Stacked in the sink. A fine layer of dust coats your shelves, proof that you swore you’d wipe them down two weeks ago. With a heavy sigh, you set your bags down and tie your hair up.

Time to finally get your life together.

You start with the dishes, rolling up your sleeves as you scrub at the dried coffee rings and leftover crumbs, stacking each plate neatly to dry. Then, you tackle the laundry, sorting through the mess and tossing everything into the washer with way more detergent than necessary because screw it, it smells nice.

One thing after another, you move through your space, wiping down surfaces, lighting a candle just because, finally making your home feel liveable again.

When everything is clean, you take a long shower, the hot water easing the tension in your muscles. You throw on something comfortable—an oversized hoodie, some loose shorts—before settling onto your couch with a deep sigh, satisfied.

But—

Your mind wanders.

Your phone is right there.

Without thinking, you open TikTok. Just a little scrolling, just to unwind—nothing serious. But then you type his name into the search bar. Just to see.

The first thing that pops up is exactly what you expected: thirst edits, fancams, interview clips. You click on one at random, some fast-cut montage of Jungkook on stage, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp, every movement calculated to kill.

You get it now.

As if you didn’t get it the first time he looked at you with those big fat boba eyes.

The way people talk about him. The way they react. The comment sections filled with all-caps screaming, with people losing their minds over every little thing he does.

And then you see the other side of him.

Clips of him laughing so hard he folds over. Videos of him playing with his dog, teasing his bandmates, singing softly into his phone, eyes half-lidded and gentle.

Your chest feels tight.

There’s so much of him online. So many sides, so many versions.

And yet, you can’t help but feel like none of it is the full picture.

Then, A paparazzi photo.

Jungkook in a dimly lit restaurant. Across from him, a blonde woman, her arms decorated with tattoos. A dating scandal. Seemingly one that never got confirmed.

Something sharp twists in your stomach.

Jealousy?

No. That would be insane. You don’t even know him.

And yet—

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

What if you’re just another one of them?

What if you’re just another rumor? Another name people whisper about in comment sections, another person tied to him in a way that’ll never be real?

The thought lingers, sinking deep.

But then, with a deep breath, you shake your head.

Get over yourself.

You scroll past it.

And then—

You find it.

A concert clip.

Permission to Dance in LA.

Your breath stills.

The video starts, and there he is.

Jungkook.

His cropped black shirt barely covers him, leaving the sharp ridges of his stomach bare, glistening under the stage lights. Silver body chains drape over his chest and abs, catching the glow as he moves. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, sticking just enough to make it look good.

And then—

The screen cuts to a slow motion clip.

Jungkook, walking forward.

Shirtless.

Flashes of cameras illuminate his body, highlighting every detail—his stomach, his collarbones, the slightest angry expression on his face. His lips part, his throat bobs with a swallow, his skin slick under the lights, gleaming in the way that only makes him look better.

Your breath catches.

Something hot coils low in your stomach.

And just like that, it happens.

The shift. The realization.

That feeling. Your mind begins to wander places where you know it shouldnt.

You sit in the dimly lit living room, the only sound being the soft hum of your phone as you watch the video of Jungkook on the screen. His chiseled features and captivating smile have you entranced, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.You feel a surge of arousal at the sound of his words, and your mind begins to wander, imagining what it would be like to be with him.

You start to fantasize about being with Jungkook in secret, hiding your relationship from the prying eyes of the media and the public. You imagine being at work, sneaking away to the bathroom to meet him in private. You picture him pushing you against the stall, his hands grasping your hips as he whispers in your ear, "Shh, baby, we don’t wanna get caught hm? That would be a mess…" You feel a thrill at the thought of being with him in secret, the danger and excitement of being discovered.

Your hands seem to move of their own accord, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and into your underwear. Your fingers graze your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. You start to touch your wet folds, gently at first, but growing bolder as the pleasure builds. "Ah," you whisper to yourself, You imagine his cock pushing into you, his hands covering your mouth to keep you quiet as you moan in pleasure.

As you continue to touch yourself, you start to feel a sense of guilt creeping in. What the fuck am I doing?you think to yourself, This is so wrong.

But the pleasure is too much to ignore, and you find yourself pushing aside the guilt, focusing on the sensations and the image of Jungkook on the screen. Your breathing gets heavier, and your heart starts to pound in your chest. You're getting closer and closer to the edge, and you can't help but let out a series of soft gasps as you continue to touch yourself.

You imagine Jungkook's hands on your skin, his fingers tracing your curves as he whispers in your ear, "You're so beautiful, Wanna fuck you all night." You picture him lifting your leg up, his cock pushing into you as he fucks you against the stall. You hear the sound of his voice, "Don't you dare make a fucking sound." You feel a surge of pleasure at the thought of being with him in secret, the excitement and danger of being discovered.

Despite the guilt, your body continues to respond to the pleasure. You decide to take it to the next level, reaching for the vibrator that's hidden in your drawer. You turn it on, and the buzzing sound fills the room as you press it against your skin. The sensation is almost overwhelming, and you feel yourself getting even closer to the edge. "Oh, god," you whisper to yourself, "Fuckk-." The vibrator hums against your clit, and you feel a surge of pleasure as your body starts to respond. You're getting wetter and wetter, and you can feel your juices starting to drip down your thighs.

As you watch Jungkook on the screen, his eyes seeming to lock onto yours, you feel a surge of pleasure. "Shit," you say to yourself, The guilt is still there, but it's no longer the dominant emotion. The sensation of the vibrator and the image of Jungkook combine to create an intense, all-consuming feeling.

You're torn between the desire to indulge in this fantasy and the need to suppress it.

You imagine Jungkook's hands on your skin, his fingers tracing your curves as he whispers in your ear, "You're mine," You picture him fucking you hard, his cock pulsing inside of you as he claims you as his own. You hear the sound of his voice, imagining what he’d sound like when he comes.

You feel a much stronger surge of pleasure at the thought of being his, of being owned by him. Your body starts to tense up, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your muscles contract, and you feel a surge of pleasure as you start to come. "Ah, Jungkook," you whisper to yourself, "I'm coming." Your body shudders, and you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your juices flow freely, dripping down your thighs as you continue to fuck yourself with the vibrator. You're lost in the sensation, and you can't help but let out a series of loud gasps as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

As you finally start to come down from the high, you're left feeling breathless and spent. Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and your juices are still dripping down your thighs. You look down at yourself, and you're met with the sight of your own wetness, glistening in the dim light of the room. You feel a sense of satisfaction, mixed with a hint of guilt. But as you look back at the screen, you see Jungkook's face, and you can't help but feel a sense of pleasure and satisfaction. You may have felt guilty, but in the end, pleasure won out.

——

The morning hits you like a truck.

Your body feels sluggish, weighed down by something heavier than sleep, and for a second, you don’t even register the fact that you’re awake. But then—your brain catches up. The fog clears just enough to remind you.

Last night.

Your entire body tenses. A slow, mortified groan rips out of your throat as you roll onto your stomach, shoving your face into the pillow. You did that. You actually-

Your phone buzzes loudly against the nightstand.

You blindly reach for it, barely prying your eyes open, when-

8:47 AM

Your heart drops.

“Shit—shit, shit, shit—”

You fling yourself out of bed in a panic, scrambling toward the bathroom with one hand already dialing Nari’s number. You’re brushing your teeth with one hand, violently shoving a hoodie over your head with the other, when she finally picks up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she hums, far too smug.

“Nari, I’m so fucking late for work—” you garble through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Yeah, no shit, considering it’s almost nine—”

“Oh my god, I slept through my alarm, I’m gonna get fired—”

“You do know I’m not coming in today, right?”

The words don’t even process at first. You’re too busy throwing your phone onto speaker, shoving your legs into jeans as you spit into the sink. “What?”

“I told you yesterday. I switched shifts with Sumni.”

You freeze mid-step. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I literally did, babe.”

You blink at yourself in the mirror, panic momentarily replaced by realization. Then—

“…Fuck you.”

Nari cackles. “No, fuck you. I knew you’d forget.”

“You let me suffer!”

“I let you be a dumbass.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” she corrects, completely unfazed by your rage. “You’re just Nari-deprived.”

You exhale through your nose, fighting the urge to slam your head into the mirror. Work without Nari is going to be the worst, like it always is.

“You’re an asshole,” you grumble, grabbing your bag. “I hope your day sucks without me.”

“I hope yours is miserable without me,” she shoots back, voice laced with fake venom. “I bet you’ll be crying in the storage closet by noon.”

“I bet you’ll be crying in the bathroom by seven.”

“I bet you’ll call me on your lunch break to sob about how much you miss me—”

“You wish—”

You’re locking your door behind you when she suddenly pauses.

“…Wait,” she murmurs, her tone shifting. “You never answered my text last night.”

Your stomach clenches.

“I really gotta go—”

“NO WAIT— YOU—”

You hang up.

Your phone starts buzzing immediately after, but you shove it into your pocket, focusing instead on getting to work before your manager decides you’re more trouble than you’re worth.

——

You make it twenty-four minutes late, and the only saving grace is that your manager doesn’t care enough to scold you.

Still, work is miserable. The diner is slow, the regular breakfast rush long gone, and without Nari to keep you entertained, time crawls. You’re halfway through refilling the sugar dispensers when the bell above the door chimes.

You glance up, plastering on your best customer-service smile—

Only to feel it immediately slip.

Because Jeon Jungkook is standing in the entrance.

Alone again, and way too fucking early.

Your heart stutters, but you force yourself to act normal. “Why are you here so early?”

Jungkook smirks, stepping closer. “I’m just here to get coffee.”

You scoff. “You choose a diner to get coffee? Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t disrespect my choices,” he teases. “Some of us enjoy a little diner experience, with cute waitresses on the side” He winks.

“You know we don’t even have good coffee, right?”

Jungkook hums. “Then why are you serving it?”

“You asked for it.”

You roll your eyes and grab a mug. But as you turn to pour the coffee, your gaze flickers toward him—and you really look at him.

His jaw is sharp, cutting clean angles in the soft glow of the diner’s lights. His lips are thin, but full and plump in a way, slightly parted as he exhales. His dark hair is a little messy, like he ran his hands through it too many times. But it’s his eyes that hold you in place—deep brown, warm and dark, filled with something unreadable.

You don’t realize you’re staring until—

Jungkook smirks.

Your stomach plummets.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement.

Your face heats up instantly. “Shut up.”

His smirk deepens. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well- shut up anyway.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, watching as you place his coffee on the counter. And then—his fingers brush against yours as he reaches for it.

The touch is barely anything—a fleeting graze, the warmth of his skin against yours for a fraction of a second. But it lingers, spreading like static under your skin.

Your breath catches.

Jungkook notices.

He wraps his fingers around the mug, watching you with quiet amusement. “So, random question,” he muses, “if someone asked you to meet up outside of work, would you?”

Your stomach flips.

You keep your expression neutral. “Depends who’s asking.”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, like he’s really looking at you. “And if it was me?”

You hesitate. The air between you shifts—something unspoken, something charged.

“I’d have to think about it,” you say finally.

Jungkook hums, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His eyes don’t leave yours. “Fair enough.”

You’re still trying to recover from the tension when he leans back, stretching slightly. “I’m actually busy today,” he says, as if that whole exchange didn’t just happen. “That’s why I came early. This place is close to my studio.”

You raise a brow. “Studio?”

He nods. “Got a few songs to record. Prepping for tour.”

Then, casually, he adds, “You should come.”

You blink. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs. “You should come.”

He’s joking. Obviously, right? But for some reason, it unsettles you.

Jungkook smirks again, but you feel a twist in your stomach.

Because what if you’re just another fan?

The words sit between you like something heavy, something you don’t quite know how to hold.

You should come.

Jungkook’s watching you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, something just shy of amusement but not quite serious either. His smirk lingers at the corner of his lips, and you hate that it’s doing something to you.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing your tone to be light. “I’ll definitely come.”

You expect him to just let it go, but instead—he tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin feel hot.

“Would you, though?” he muses, tapping his fingers lightly against the mug.

You blink. “Would I what?”

“Actually come,” he says smoothly. “Or are you just saying that?”

You scoff, arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “Why do you care?”

Jungkook hums, taking a slow sip of his coffee before replying. “I just think it’s interesting,” he says, voice low, “how quick you are to brush it off.”

You swallow. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he cuts in, his smirk widening slightly. “Like you were scared to even consider it.”

Your breath catches, heart skipping in your chest. “I wasn’t scared—”

“Oh no?” His brows raise, and he leans forward slightly, his forearm resting against the counter between you. “Then what was it?”

Your mouth opens—then closes. Because the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to think.

Jungkook is dangerous. Not in the way that means trouble, but in the way that makes your pulse race. In the way that makes every teasing remark feel like a dare, every glance feel like a step closer to something you’re not sure you’re ready for.

And the worst part? He knows it.

He sees the way you hesitate, sees the way your breath stutters just slightly, and he eats it up.

You straighten, trying to not let him see the way he’s affecting you. “I don’t just blindly accept invitations from random guys,” you say, tilting your chin slightly.

Jungkook’s lips curve, and his voice drops just a little lower. “So I’m a random guy now?”

You regret your words immediately.

Because suddenly, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—something a little more serious, a little more intent. And for a split second, you swear you see a flicker of something else in his expression.

Something real.

Something that almost—almost—makes you think he’s actually asking.

But then—just as quickly as it appeared—it’s gone.

Jungkook leans back, his smirk returning. “Noted,” he murmurs, reaching for his coffee again. “Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

Your stomach flips. “On what?”

He shrugs. “On not being a random guy.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch—like they’re trying not to smile.

Jungkook notices.

And of course, he doesn’t let it go.

“See?” he says, watching you closely. “You like me.”

You scoff. “I tolerate you.”

Jungkook grins, and you hate that it’s unfairly attractive. “That’s just the first stage of falling in love.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my god—”

He laughs, leaning back slightly, clearly entertained. “I’m just saying,” he says, tapping a finger against his mug. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of obsessed with me.”

You gawk at him.

“I—you’re delusional,” you sputter.

“Am I?” He tilts his head. “Or am I just painfully observant?”

“Oh my god—”

“You are, though.”

“I literally am not.”

“Mmm.” He sips his coffee again, eyes twinkling. “Denial is the second stage.”

Your soul leaves your body.

And then—to make things worse—he casually reaches for the sugar, fingers brushing against yours again.

Your breath catches.

It’s subtle—so brief you could almost pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. And you both felt it.

Jungkook pauses, gaze flicking up to yours, and his smirk slowly returns.

You snatch your hand back.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, stirring his coffee lazily. “And yet,” he muses, “you haven’t walked away.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that.

Because—annoyingly—he’s right.

There’s something about him that keeps you here, standing in front of him even though you could just leave, even though every instinct tells you not to entertain him any longer.

Jungkook hums, like he’s completely aware of the way your thoughts are spiraling. Then, after a beat, he glances at his phone.

“Alright,” he sighs, pushing his coffee aside. “I should head out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

You hate the way disappointment tugs at your chest.

Jungkook watches you for a second—like he sees it, like he knows. Then, as he stands, he leans just a little closer, just enough to drop his voice low.

“Try not to miss me too much,” he murmurs.

Your breath stutters.

And then—before you can even think of a response—he straightens, smirks, and casually throws a few bills onto the counter.

Your fingers twitch. “You overpaid—”

“Consider it a tip,” he says smoothly, already walking toward the door.

You stare at his back, watching the way he moves—easy, confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Then—just as he reaches the exit—he glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours one last time.

And he winks.

The bell chimes as the door swings shut behind him.

And you—standing there, stomach twisting—realize you’re completely, hopelessly fucked.

——

Its finally 9pm. You did call Nari at lunch. Of course you did. You’d left one of your shirts at her house, it’s not really that important, but you want to see her anyway.

You step out of the building, stretching your arms as the night air presses against your skin. It’s finally cooled down, the heat of the day fading into a soft breeze that moves through the streets. The city hums around you—cars rolling past, the faint chatter of people walking in groups, the occasional laugh cutting through the evening air.

You barely look down as you pull your phone from your pocket, already calling Nari before you even hit the sidewalk. It rings twice before she picks up.

“Finally,” she groans, voice thick with exhaustion. “Where are you? I told you to hurry.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I’m on my way, chill. I left my shirt at your place,”

“My leg’s are killing, i pulled something at the gym today” she whines.

You scoff. “I’m the one walking right now.”

“Yeah, and look at you, surviving,” she deadpans. “Meanwhile, I’m literally dying. I swear, my legs are about to give out.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, dodging a couple walking too slow in front of you. “Are you sure you still want me to come? You sound like you need a coma.”

“Yes, obviously,” she huffs. “Just hurry up. I need moral support.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Your usual route would have you in Nari’s passenger seat by now, but since she’s not picking you up, you’re taking the train instead. It’s a little out of the way, but you don’t mind the walk.

At least, until you nearly crash into someone.

“Ah, sorry—” you start, stepping back quickly.

The person barely stumbles, but you notice the way his hands twitch slightly, like he almost reached out to steady you. You look up, already ready to move past the awkward moment—

And then your eyes meet his.

It takes a second to register. The mask covers the lower half of his face, and his black cap is pulled low, but those eyes—deep brown, familiar—make your breath catch.

“…Oh,” you murmur. “Hi.”

Jungkook looks at you, frozen for a beat too long. There’s something different about him—he’s stiff, closed off, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He glances around, shifting slightly like he’s uneasy.

“…Hey,” he finally says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. There’s something off. You’ve seen Jungkook in a lot of different moods during his visits to the diner- teasing, playful, even quiet—but never like this. His whole body is tense, his shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. His eyes flick past you, scanning the street, and then back again.

“Are you… okay?” you ask carefully.

“I—yeah,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His voice is lower than usual, tight. “I was just… heading out- of- of the studio…”

The way he says it makes something twist in your chest. You don’t know why it stings, but it does. His whole energy is different—rushed, distant. Like he doesn’t want to be standing here, talking to you. Like he needs to leave.

Your grip tightens around your phone. “Right,” you say, trying to sound normal, but it comes out smaller than you want.

Jungkook shifts on his feet, still looking around. The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable.

“I’ll—uh,” he exhales sharply. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he walks away.

Just like that.

You don’t even get the chance to react. One second he’s there, the next he’s disappearing into the crowd, shoulders hunched, head ducked low. It feels like a brush-off. Like something you’re not supposed to take personally, but somehow, you do.

You blink, still holding your phone to your ear, even though it’s not against your ear anymore.

On the other end, Nari’s voice cuts through the thick, sudden silence.

“Hello?” she says. “What happened?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Your chest feels weird—tight, uncomfortable, like something is pressing against it.

Finally, you swallow, forcing your voice to stay even. “I… I can’t come anymore,” you say quietly. “I just realized I have something to do at home.”

A pause. Then—

“Wait, bitch—?”

You hang up.

—

You’re dramatic. You know it. Nari knows it.

It took five calls before you finally picked up, and by that point, she’d already decided you weren’t going home. You were coming to hers, no excuses. And you didn’t fight it much, because she’s right—she always is.

She knows when something’s wrong. And this? This was definitely one of those times.

By the time you get to her place, she’s waiting at the door, arms crossed, scanning your face like she’s trying to read a book that won’t open. You barely step inside before she’s dragging you to the couch, her hands warm against your wrist.

“Alright,” she says, legs tucked under her, eyes sharp. “What the fuck happened?”

You exhale, shaking your head, phone still clenched in your fingers. “Nothing, I just—”

“Don’t even start with that.” She cuts you off fast. “You were about to go home and sulk. So, no. Try again.”

You sink into the cushions, staring at a loose thread on the blanket draped over the armrest. “I ran into Jungkook.”

There’s a beat of silence before she blinks, sitting up straighter. “Okay… and?”

“And he—” You bite your lip, still feeling the sting of it. “He was weird. Different. Like, I don’t know, like he didn’t want to be seen with me or something.”

Her expression twists. “Seriously? You’re fucking joking.”

You shake your head, replaying the way he looked around, the way his voice was quieter than usual, the way he left so fast like he was afraid to be near you. “He barely even looked at me, Nari.”

She scoffs, disbelief turning into something sharper. “What the actual fuck? So he’s all friendly and sweet before, and now suddenly he’s—what? Too good to be seen talking to you?”

You don’t answer, just swallow around the knot in your throat.

“Oh, hell no.” She leans back, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “This is some bullshit.”

Your fingers tighten around your phone, your nails pressing into your palm. “It just—” You hesitate, then sigh. “It sucked.”

She softens a little, tilting her head. “I know, babe.”

And for a moment, you just sit there, letting the frustration settle between you, the weight of it pressing into your chest.

Because yeah. It really fucking sucked.

But then Nari sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, to be fair, you saw what happened last time. The whole social media thing? That was a mess. He’s probably trying to avoid another situation like that.”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, but now that she’s saying it, it makes sense.

Not that it makes you feel any better.

“Still doesn’t mean he had to be an asshole about it,” you mumble.

“No, he didn’t,” she agrees. Then she exhales dramatically and waves a hand. “Alright, enough of that. I’m over it.”

You let out a small laugh. “You’re over it?”

“Yeah, I’ve decided.” She leans back against the couch. “But you, unfortunately, are not.”

You groan, standing up, grabbing your shirt Nari’s so kindly washed and folded for you. “I really do have to get going home.”

Nari frowns. “What? No. Stay.”

“I can’t, Nari”

Nari rolls her eyes, but there’s a teasing lilt to her voice when she sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Go be responsible, I guess.”

You grab your bag, nudging her with your foot as you pass. “You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves you off, already grabbing her phone. “Now get out before I kidnap you.”

You snort, shaking your head as you step outside. The air is cooler now, the sky shifting into evening. You don’t check your phone until you’re halfway home.

And that’s when you see it. A missed call.

Your stomach flips. But you don’t call him back.

Not yet.

——

The next morning, you stay home.

Nari’s at work alone today, which is a nice change of pace, honestly. She likes having the whole place to herself sometimes, no one to tell her to stop playing her music too loud or to wipe down the counters properly.

It’s a slow morning. Barely any customers.

Until he walks in.

She spots him immediately, even though he’s trying to be subtle about it. Hood up, head down, sitting at the same table near the back, fingers drumming against the wood like he’s waiting for something—or someone.

Nari sighs, grabbing a notepad before heading over.

“If you’re looking for her,” she says flatly, not even bothering with a greeting, “she’s not here today.”

Jungkook blinks up at her, startled. “What—no, I—”

She raises an eyebrow.

He exhales. “Is she okay? She’s not answering my texts.”

Nari scoffs. “Oh, I wonder why.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for the first time, she sees it—the guilt, the regret.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just… I panicked.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want things to get out of hand again. I didn’t want her to deal with all the shit that happened last time.”

Nari folds her arms. “So your big plan to protect her was to act like she doesn’t exist?”

“No!” He looks up, eyes desperate. “I just—I fucked up.”

She watches him for a moment, trying to read him.

“You knew what you were doing when you started this,” she says finally. “You knew what could happen.”

He nods. “I know. I know. But it’s not like that. I actually—” He stops, running a hand over his face. “I think like her.”

That catches her off guard.

Not that she hadn’t suspected it, but hearing him say it? That’s different.

Jungkook sighs. “I just need to talk to her.”

Nari exhales sharply. Then, reluctantly, she slides her phone out of her pocket and places it on the table.

“Then call her.”

He hesitates. “I already did, last night, she didn’t answer, God she dosent wanna fix this, I fucked up-“

“I swear to God, if you don’t—”

He snatches the phone before she can finish, already dialing.

The first ring feels like it lasts forever.

Then the second.

Then the third.

And then—

”…Hello?”

His breath catches.

Your voice is quiet, wary, like you already know it’s him.

“Jungkook?”

And just like that, he knows.

This is his one shot to make it right.

[bunnieswithknives]

Are you still in the YHS reboot fandom or not?

Ummmmmm, as of right now I'd say probably not. YHS will always hold a special place in my heart regardless of anything, but at least for now I do not plan to participate in or make anything YHS reboot related

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I was rewatching the r.ed r.ain earlier and goodness he's so handsome

[kuiinncedes]

ahdfgjh

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.

Danny: i want in

Red robin: …what?

Danny: your bat family. I want in.

Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-

Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.

Red robin: …why?

Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.

Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!

Danny: *stares in shock*

Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?

Orphan: no need. New brother!

Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?

Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.

Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*

Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.

Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)

Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*

Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)

Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.

Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)

Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-

Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.

Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)

Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act

Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly

Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons

Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?

Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously

Robin: and why would we trust you?

Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?

Robin: …you drive a hard bargain

Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!

Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting

Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage

Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!

Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.

Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park

Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks

Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)

Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)

Batman: hn (that said)

Batman: welcome to the family

Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.

Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the piggyback

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.” You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Summary: operation save hawkins is a go. youre eagle one, steve is currently doing that, eddie is youd be lying if you said you havent thought about it, nancy is it happened once in a dream, robin is if you had to pick a girl, and dustin is eagle two. what could possibly go wrong ? spoiler alert: everything. literally everything goes wrong. might as well break a few promises while youre at it. for the plot. but at least its over, right? .... right?

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, weapons, blood, death and gore, injuries, lowkey suicidal thoughts

Words: 8.5k (we broke tradition where the last chapter is the longest but tbh this is probs for the best)

Before you swing in: oh my god this is the end. i am. very very emotional rn. this story is my baby and i dont know what im going to do now that its done. i cant even write an in between chapter because we still dont have season 5 content :((( im gonna miss writing this story, and i will absolutely go crazy waiting for season 5 so i can write again. these next few months will be ROUGH but !!!! thank you guys so so so much for reading. all your comments/reblogs/kudos/likes have meant the world to me. im truly the luckiest girl ever :') for now, and for the final time... enjoy !

–

It’s pitch black outside. All around you is darkness. The sun is long gone, its golden warmth no longer present, retreating into the treeline as if afraid of what the night will bring. 

You’re afraid, too.

Everyone stands around Nancy. The group is quiet as you await whatever she has to say. When she turns to face you, her voice is leveled, calm, but her hands shake. 

She’s afraid, too.

“Okay,” Nancy exhales deeply. “I wanna run through it one more time.” She looks at Robin, prompting her to recite everything back. “Phase one?”

“We meet Erica at the playground.” Robin responds. “She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready.”

“Phase two.”

You step forward. “Max and I will bait Vecna. When he goes after one of us, he’ll go into his trance. If he chooses Max, we’ll go onto phase three together.”

“And…” Nancy swallows, looking away. “And if he chooses you?”

It’s Steve who steps forward this time. He stands tall, brave, but his voice shakes. “Then I’ll stay with her, walkman ready, while you and Robin go on your own.”

You grab his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes back. 

“Speaking of phase three.” Dustin clears his throat, weary eyes never leaving you. “Me and Eddie wil draw the bats away.”

“Carefully,” you look pointedly at your brother. “Right?”

He rolls his eyes at you while Nancy continues speaking. “Okay, phase four.”

“We head into Vecna’s newly bat-free lair and…” Robin holds up a molotov cocktail. The liquid sloshes around. The scent of gasoline still stings your nose from when you helped her pour it into the bottles earlier. “Flambe.” 

“Nobody moves onto the next phase until we’ve all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what.” Nancy reiterates, looking around the RV. Her eyes linger on you, cautious, almost doubtful. She trusts you. She knows she trusts you. But she also knows your heart and the lengths you’ll go to save others. 

Nancy has always admired your selflessness, but she’s also always seen it as your greatest strength and weakness. A coin, two sides. Now, tonight, she has to hope that you’ll follow the plan. Even if it means leaving Max behind if she’s the one Vecna chooses.

Your eyes harden when you realize what Nancy is thinking. Without saying anything, you nod at her. The jut of your chin tells her that you’ll be fine. That she needs to trust you. 

Eddie’s trailer is only a few yards away, but the walk to it feels like decades. Steve guides and Nancy is close behind him. You stay back, walking beside Dustin. Your shoulders brush. His presence grounds you, reassures you that you will make it through the night. 

Dustin, sensing your fear, reaches for your hand. He extends his warmth to you, silently promising you that he will always be here. There isn’t anything left to say.

Steve opens Eddie’s door, turning the lights on and tossing his backpack to the ground. He eyes the rope that connects the trailer to the Upside Down, getting ready for the part of the plan that you honestly really hate.

“Be careful, please.” You urge him, uncomfortable that he has to be the first one to return to the hell that is the Upside Down. It makes sense, he’s the only one able to climb the rope up, but still. You’ve had shit luck these last few days.

“I’m always careful, angel.” Steve winks at you, rolling his sleeves up. “Here goes nothing.”

He climbs up quickly, years of being an athlete being put to use. Everyone watches anxiously. However, when Steve crosses through the gate and lands with a cheesy flip, you and Robin share a disgusted look. 

“What, does he want us to applaud?” She scoffs.

You shake your head. “Somethings I think he has an imaginary audience in his head.”

“Do you think they ever boo him?” “Not like we do.”

Nancy covers her mouth, muffling her laugh, and Robin snorts. You smile at the two of them, momentarily forgetting what’s to come.

“Alright,” Steve shouts up, tossing down Eddie’s old mattress. “Let’s go.”

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you place them on the rope and prepare for the inevitable torture that this will be. You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding again. 

“A little help?” You ask the others, motioning towards your injured leg and shoulder. “Sorta out of commission.”

Eddie grips your waist while Robin and Nancy gently hike your legs up. Together the three of them are able to carry you almost all the way up. Breathing through your nose, you grit your teeth and climb the rest of the way, wincing every few seconds. The pain is unbearable.

You really hope you don’t sound as pathetic as you look.

When you land on the mattress, small, black dots litter your vision. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Steve is already bending down, helping you up with ease. “And ruin Munson’s tidy home?”

Woozy from pain, you bat Steve away and wait for the others to join. Nancy comes next, then Robin, then Eddie and Dustin. Weapons get tossed down. Bodies land on the mattress with finalizing thuds. 

Outside, it’s just as cold as you remember it. Eddie and Dustin stay in front of the trailer. This is as far as they’re going. They aren’t leaving.

Roughly you pull at your brother. His body lands against yours, but the kiss your press to his forehead is gentle. You haven’t done this since he was a kid. Dustin flings his arms around you, nearly knocking all the air from your lungs. He squeezes you tight, as terrified as you are, and you feel tears in your eyes.

“We’ll come home,” your whisper is hoarse, rough and desperate. You bury your face in his mess of curls and kiss his head again. “The house won’t be empty.”

Dustin sniffles, too weak to hide his tears. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your throat burns. How can you possibly leave him? 

Vision blurry with tears, Eddie manages to catch your attention as you cling onto your brother. The teen nods, lifting his pinky in the air to wave it at you, reminding you of his promise to you. He’ll protect Dustin. He swore it.

Reluctantly, you pull away from Dustin and wipe your face. “Please don’t die. Who knows what Mews’ ghost would do to you?” Dustin laughs wetly, wiping his own face as well. The thought of your childhood cat haunting his grave is enough to lessen the sting of letting you go. 

“If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort.” Steve breaks the remorseful silence. He doesn’t want anyone getting hurt. He doesn’t want you losing anyone else. “Draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be a hero or anything.”

His tone is harsh, but you know Steve means well. You also don’t want Dustin and Eddie anywhere near danger. As long as they stick to the plan, they’ll be fine. They have the quickest escape route and the most amount of protection.

“What Steve is trying to say is that you two better climb back through the gate the moment anything bad happens.” You look at the two boys. They stare at you, grim faced. “I mean it, okay? Go through the gate, don’t try anything else.”

“We’re the decoys, we get it.” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. You and Steve can be the heroes.”

“Look at us,” Eddie nudges your brother’s shoulder. “We’re not heroes.”

Your stomach twists. You hate how Dustin views his and Eddie’s position. They aren’t just decoys, they’re heroes in your eyes. They’re facing an army of bats all on their own, but you don’t dare say this out loud, afraid to encourage them. 

“Just…” your mouth is dry. “Just be safe, alright?”

“We will.” Eddie swallows. Then he pauses, his gaze darkens slightly. Looking back at you, he breathes out, “And make him pay.”

You and Steve look at each other. So much of Eddie’s life has been ruined by Vecna. Even if you all make it out of here alive, killing Vecna, there’s no guarantee that Hawkins will accept him back into the town. You understand the anger that resides within Eddie. The desire to kill the very thing that has destroyed everything he loves. 

You bite your lip. You’ve never made a promise you haven’t been able to keep. But this time you’re facing something bigger than anything you could’ve ever imagined. All this time you’ve tried convincing yourself that you’ll win. That everything will work out.

But you remember last summer. 

The mall. The fire and the deaths. Hopper. Billy. The power Vecna seems to hold, his claws that have sunk into you and Max. His threat to Nancy. The danger that Hawkins is in, up above where your mother sleeps peacefully. Unaware of what you’re sacrificing for her.

This is more than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. But a promise built on an unsteady foundation is all you can give Eddie. 

“Well will,” you echo his earlier promise.

Eddie smiles at you. The one you’ve grown to like, even find charming. Slanted and mischievous. The glint in his eyes never dimmed, even after everything. Through it all, he remained kind.

This is how you’ll always remember him.

– 

The further you walk away from Eddie and Dustin, the harder you have to force yourself to keep going. Your body is heavy, the weight slowing you down, pleading with you to go back. None of this feels right.

Steve’s hand on the small of your back is the only thing keeping your heart from collapsing. Robin’s smile helps, too. 

“You’d think this place gets less creepy the second time around.” She says, stepping over a root. “But I’m still pretty damn creeped out.”

“It isn’t the most pleasant place.” You agree. 

Robin steps over another root, looking back at you as she does so. “At least I’m here to protect you, Y/N. Pretty brave, don’t you think?” “Hey,” Steve warns. “Watch it.”

You knock your shoulder against his and smile apologetically at Robin. “Like always, I think you’re the bravest.”

She smiles proudly, throwing her fist in the air in excitement. However, after stepping over a root for what feels like the tenth time, her heart starts to pound. Looking around, all the trees suddenly look the same. Have you been here before?

“Not to alarm anyone, but I swear we’ve seen this tree before.”

“That’s impossible.” Nancy dimisses.

You agree. “We’re in the woods. All we’re going to see are trees.”

Robin tries to calm herself down, but ultimately fails. There are so many components to the plan, so many ways it can go wrong. “I mean, that would suck, right? Veca destroys the world because we got lost in the woods.”

“We aren’t lost–” You try to reason with her, but Robin is already running away in a panic. You scream at her, terrified of losing her. “Robin!”

“I’ll be back!”

You start to stumble after her. “Why does everyone want to separate?” You huff out, nearly tripping. “There’s safety in numbers! Come back!”

Nancy, seeing your fear for your friend and horrible coordination skills, steps in front of you. “I’ll go after her. You stay here with Steve.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing into the mass of branches alongside Robin. 

“They’ll be fine,” Steve reassures you, grabbing your hand. “They’re tough, even if Robin may lose her mind sometimes when she’s distressed.”

“I think we’re all slowly losing our minds.” You laugh, bitter.

Steve tightens his hand around yours. The two of you walk in silence for a while. The thunder above you serves as a reminder of where you are. The darkness is a threat. But you’re here, together. That’s all that Steve cares about in the end.

“Did you really mean what you said? Back at the cemetery?” He asks, clearing his throat in unease. The question has been on his mind ever since he heard your pleas for Vecna to take you instead of Max. 

He thinks of how adamant you’ve been to protect her. How you’re only here with him right now because Max wouldn’t let you blindly walk towards your death. 

The question strikes deep guilt within you, yet an exhaustion follows. You’re ashamed of how desperately you pleaded to die. Steve and Dustin had to hear you beg for your death. Lucas, too. 

You’re ashamed. Yet you wouldn’t take it back.

“I did.” You finally say. “I wanted him to take me.”

Steve already knew you’d say this. He’d been expecting anger to follow, to be furious with you for sacrificing yourself knowing he’d be left to pick up the pieces. 

But seeing the way you set your jaw and stare ahead, seeing the resolve that masks your face, the acceptance of your decisions, Steve can’t bring himself to be angry. Not at you. 

This is who you are.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Steve promises you again. He will always promise this to you. Over and over again, he will die saying these words to you. “I-I can’t lose you. I refuse to lose you.”

Your eyes remain downcast. 

“I know that this is how you love,” he grabs your jacket, begging you to look at him. “I know that I can’t let you lose the ones you love. Dustin, Max, Robin, Lucas, or El or Mike or Nancy. Hell, even Jonathan. I won’t let you lose them, but I won’t lose you, either.”

He understands, then. The selflessness within you and its selfish ways. Yet he doesn’t shy away or hiss at its venom. Steve opens his hands and allows the selfishness to stay there, warming it with his skin. 

You kiss him. Surprising both him and you, yet you melt together. Steve circles his arms around your waist, pulls you flush against him, and in the cynicism that surrounds you, there is still love. 

“Thank you,” you breathe against his lips. He’s wonderful. He loves you wholly, without any faults. Your kindness and its destructive ways; he accepts it all. “Thank you for understanding.”

And this, you believe, is the most selfless act a person can do. Steve’s understanding of why you need to do this, to sacrifice your life for Max’s, even if it means he risks losing you. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Steve kisses you again, softer this time. Slower. 

You pull back, confused. “Why?” He pulls you in again. “I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but I was a pretty huge asshole back then.” You laugh softly, and Steve knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. “You saw this good in me that I didn’t know existed. Right off the bat you saw through me, expecting more from me than anyone else ever did. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you. ”

“Steve…”

“And I’m sorry for thinking you didn’t see a future with me.” He continues, unable to stop now. This is everything he’s wanted to tell you ever since you allowed him into your life. “I know it’s stupid now, apologizing for our fight a week ago after the hell we’ve been through since then, but…”

He can’t believe he almost let something as small as a misalignment of where you’ll be a year from now jeopardize what you have. There is a string that attaches Steve to you, it brought you to him and tied your heart to his. 

“I meant what I said, Y/N.” Steve’s forehead presses against yours. “I’d wait forever if it means I can have forever with you.”

His eyes shine down at you, brown and warm. The honey you fell in love with when he pretended not to know your name, all to get you to laugh. 

“When your head went under the water, that night at Lover’s Lake, I thought you were dead.” Your voice shakes, remembering the fear that choked you. “For those thirty seconds, I thought you were dead, and it almost killed me.”

It was then that you realized how truly you can’t lose Steve. You’ve always known this, but to have his soul ripped from yours so suddenly, so permanently, there are no words to express the agony that poisoned you. 

Losing him would be the one thing you’d never recover from.  

“I don’t ever want to live through those thirty seconds again,” you’re crying. Steve is, too. He wipes a tear that falls, strokes your cheek, and you can’t bear the thought of a world without his touch. “I want forever with you, too. We’ll figure it out, but I’m not losing you. You have to be in my life, in whatever capacity. Whether you’re in a small, cramped apartment with me in New York or in Hawkins, waiting for me to come home.”

Your breath hitches. To think that a childish argument almost separated him from you. 

“As long as we come home to one another, it doesn’t matter.” 

Steve is quiet after you’ve said all this, and for a moment you’re scared you’ve said too much. Revealed too much of yourself, convinced him he’s gotten it all wrong, but then he cradles your face. His hands are soft, tender, the weight of them familiar against your skin. 

He kisses your forehead, and you exhale the last of your uncertainty. All that is left within your lungs is love. 

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.”

You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Steve smiles, wide and bashful, and you know that this is where you’re meant to be, too.

“Hey, guys!” Robin breaks through the treeline, running back with Nancy right behind her. “Awesome news!”

“We aren’t lost.” Nancy cuts to the chase. “We think the Creel house is up ahead.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You step out of Steve’s arms, though your hand remains intertwined with his. “Let’s go face imminent doom.”

Nancy huffs out a laugh and Robin winces, though Steve squeezes your hand and is the first one to start walking. Together, the five of you descend deeper into the woods.

Unsurprisingly, the Creel house is even more terrifying in the Upside Down. Bats surround it, their screeches stinging your ears. Lightning flashes a deep, blood red and the thunder that follows causes your heart to drop.

You stand at the crest of the hill. There’s a light below you, its glow pure in the abandoned park where it resides. The same park that you told Erica to hide in as she waited for Max and Lucas to take their place. The light flashes.

It’s time for phase two.

– 

“Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna. Y/N, get ready.” Erica’s voice carries into the Upside Down.

Nancy, Robin, and Steve all turn to you. Grief and longing taint their faces. Your walkman hangs from Steve’s hand. He grips it tightly. Tension coats the air, nearly suffocating you; you can’t run anymore. 

No one says anything as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. It’s cold beneath you. Hard, unforgiving. You cross your legs, ignoring the deep ache of your wounds as you do so. You close your eyes. The storm is coming. 

“Take the bait, you son of a bitch.” You hear Nancy whisper. 

You or Max.

Take me, you silently beg. Take. Me. 

Silence settles over the group. Everyone waits with bated breath. No one knows who Vecna will choose. 

Steve stands nervously behind you, his hand on your walkman at all times. 

Just take me. Kill me instead of her. If you’ve watched me for so long, then just get it over with. Don’t make this easy, don’t be such a fucking coward.

The words echo in your head. Taunting Vecna, hoping their malice will be what saves Max. That he’ll choose you in the end, give you what you want. You’ll do whatever, say whatever you need, if it means Max will come home. 

Something pricks your skin. An uncomfortable, electric sensation coats your entire body. 

Vecna. 

For a moment you think he’s listened. You can feel his presence, the weight of him shadows in your mind. He’s here, he’s spared you mercy after prolonged cruelty. He’s chosen you and Max will survive. Her blue eyes will remain bright, her body alive.

Then it all comes crashing down.

“He chose Max. I repeat, he chose Max.” Erica says, voice cutting through the delusions you allowed yourself to get lost in.

Your ears are ringing. Somewhere in your body there is still oxygen that has not escaped you, but you cannot find it. He chose her. 

Robin radios Dustin and Eddie, you think she’s instructing them to move onto phase three, but her words are jumbled in your mind and you can’t hear anything besides the screaming in your head. 

He chose her.

“Y/N,” someone roughly grabs your shoulder. “Y/N, look at me.”

Nancy. She’s in front of you, kneeled down. She grabs your arms, her grip vicious. Her mouth moves. She’s saying something, the way her chest heaves makes you think she’s yelling.

Is she yelling at you?

“Y/N!” The ringing doesn’t subside, but you manage to look at Nancy. “We need to go!”

She’s right. You need to leave. There isn’t time to remember how to breathe. You know this. Somewhere in the distance there’s music. Guitar rifts through the wind, Eddie’s melody enrages the bats that swarm the Creel house. They’re gone in seconds, flying towards the sound, and you need to stick to the plan. 

Your head moves shakily, managing a small nod, and Nancy yanks you up with Steve’s help. She looks at Robin, and suddenly her and Steve grab your arms and force you to walk alongside Nancy. They aren’t aggressive as they do so, nor are they cruel. But you can’t afford to shut down. Not now.

Max won’t survive if you do. There’s no time to hesitate. No turning back.

You hope she finds the light.

Lightning flashes all around you, illuminating the Creel house as you stand before it. Steve opens the door first. The vines that cover the ground writhe at the disturbance. He shines his flashlight, his heart drops when he realizes just how infested the house is.

“Shit,” he breathes out. The floor is virtually impossible to walk across. “That’s not good.”

Then, because he has no other option, Steve starts jumping to any safe spot he can land on. He looks ridiculous as he does so, but for once you aren’t focused on that. Instead, you stare down at your injured leg and wince.

“Great,” your thigh is currently more blood than flesh. Jumping on it is quite literally the last thing you should be doing. “This is gonna hurt.”

“At least you have good balance?” Robin offers, though she doesn’t believe what she’s saying either. 

Nancy grabs your hand, then Robin’s. She looks at the two of you and smiles, trying her best to look reassuring. “It’s okay. You guys got this.”

The first jump hurts, setting the remaining nerves in your upper thigh on fire, but you can’t afford to scream or collapse. You have to remind yourself that the vines are interconnected. One wrong step, one miscalculated fall, and they’ll wrap viciously around you. 

It’s a slow, tedious process trying to get to the attic. The stairs are the hardest part. The vines twist with every step, slithering across the walls. Steve does his best to help you, offering you his hand for support, but you both hold your breath every time your foot slips. 

When you make it to the attic door, everyone readies their weapons. In one hand are your knives, in the other a molotov cocktail. Steve spins you around, digging into the backpack for an ax while Nancy grabs her gun. 

Your foot lifts, about to step forward, before the ground beneath you shakes violently. The entire house trembles, and Steve barely has enough time to catch everyone as all of you struggle not to fall. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sneer, holding desperately onto Steve. This is all some sick, cruel joke. A poorly timed rupture in your rapture.

But then the house stills. Everything is quiet. You, Nancy, Steve, and Robin stare at one another, panting. Nobody moves. There’s a clarity in the air, a false sense of security. 

That’s when the first vine latches onto Robin. 

It folds around her ankle before tearing her away from you. She screams, so do you, and her body is thrown against the wall as more vines encase her limbs. They move fast, snake like, and everything unravels after that. 

“Steve! Y/N!” She screeches, terrified. “Nancy!” 

You’re at her side in a second, stabbing at the vines. Your knuckles are white as you grip your knives, your biceps strain. You aren’t letting them take Robin from you. “Hold on!”

Your teeth grit together in exertion, sawing as fast as you can. Steve and Nancy are on the other side, throwing their axes as hard furiously into the vines. But nothing works, they’re too thick, and you don’t realize that one of the vines has wrapped around your arm until it’s too late.

“Y/N!” Steve screams when your body gets lifted into the air. You try to fight it, to pry your arm away, but your legs give out and soon a second vine wraps around your other arm. Then a third, a fourth and a fifth. 

In seconds you’re pressed against the wall. 

“Steve!” Screams are ripped from your throat, you try to call out, to beg for your life, but the more you move, the tighter the vines constrict.

Steve calls after you, ramming into the wall as he tries to cut you loose. “I got you! I–”

The ax he’s holding gets yanked back by a vine. He’s launched into the air, body landing harshly next to yours several feet up the wall. He screams again, but his voice dies when a vine cuts off his breathing and chokes him.

Another vine coils around your throat and suddenly you can’t breathe. Your airway constricts. Sobbing, you try to reach out to Steve. You’re inches apart, his fingers are so close to yours that you can feel their warmth, but you can’t reach him

All you want to do is hold him. 

Nancy falls to the ground, the last victim. She gets thrown to the opposite wall, it all happens so fast that she doesn’t even have time to scream. 

Your vision blurs. You close your eyes.

This is how you’ll die. 

Far away from your home. No one will find your body down here. Dustin will come looking for you and he’ll face the same fate. He will die trying to find you. Vecna will destroy everything you’ve ever loved.

Your lungs burn, fighting for breath that they cannot get. Blood rushes to your head. You take your last breath. The sound of it echoes in your ears. 

Everything goes black. 

Your mother will be worried about you. 

I’m sorry.

– 

There’s a body beneath yours. 

It groans, gasping for air, but your vision is dark and you can’t see anything. Pain erupts in your wrist. You try to move it, but the sting makes you nauseous. 

There’s coughing all around you, but you’re too weak to suck the air back in. Everyone cowers for breath. The vines rescind, unwrapping themselves from your skin. There’s a body beneath you, and a gentle hand cups your cheek, you know it’s Steve.

“Breathe, angel.” His voice cracks, wounded. It hurts to speak, but he needs you to breathe. “Y/N, you have to breathe.”

Everything is numb. Your lungs are empty; you can’t remember how to fill them. Steve coaxes your lips open, blows air in your face, does whatever he can think of to get you to breathe, before finally, miraculously, you inhale sharply and begin coughing. 

“Are you alright?” Steve asks you softly, rubbing your back as you cough. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Your throat is raw. It takes everything within you to speak, but you want to. You need to. There’s only one thing you want to say. “We have to make him pay.”

The anger is back, and Steve’s jaw sets. Vecna has hurt you. He’s hurt everyone you love. He’s chosen Max for his final death and your fury threatens to devour the sanity you have left. You’re tired of his shitty mind games.

It’s like what you promised Eddie: you have to make Vecna pay for what he’s done to you all.

“I don’t believe in a higher power,” Robin rasps, breaking you from your thoughts. “Or divine intervention. But that was a miracle.”

Nancy cocks her gun, already walking towards the attic door. “Then we better not waste it.”

“Phase four.” Steve says, steadying himself against you. 

“Flambe.” Robin finishes. 

You flick your knives out. “Let’s finish this.”

– 

Vecna’s body hangs in the attic, thick, gruesome vines attach him to every crevice. He’s unmoving, eyes closed, and seeing his body up close makes you want to gag. He’s a terrible, vile creature. 

But Dustin had been right: Vecna is in the same trance-like state that El goes into when she uses her powers. 

Without being told to, Robin sets down her bag. All the molotov cocktails are inside. Everyone grabs one, silent. Almost as if you’re all too afraid to break the spell he’s under. You only get one shot at this. 

Steve has the lighter. You hold the first cocktail up, and he looks at you, eyes shining. He asks you if you’re ready, if this is what you really want, and you nod. At your signal, Steve throws the cocktail into the air.

The bottle shatters against Vecna’s body. The flames engulf him, the impact of the blast so powerful that it knocks you and everyone else back. There’s an awful scream as Vecna’s vines begin to snap from the sudden heat.

Your screams mix with his, throwing another cocktail with every ounce of strength you have left in you. You’re bruised and bloodied and exhausted, but you think of Max. You think of Billy and Hopper. Eddie and how his life will never be the same again. You think of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred. All the innocent lives that have been lost for a cause that you despise. 

This is for them. For Hawkins. For your home.

The last of the vines die withering away, and Vecna’s body falls to the ground. He stands, body on fire, and stalks towards you. His eyes are only on you. 

Robin lights the final cocktail and the force of it sends Vecna stumbling back. It’s enough to break through his chest, and he’s weak. Weaker than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Shoot him, Nancy!” You cry, ready for this all to end. 

And she does.

The first blast pierces Vecna’s skin. The second, third, and fourth diminish him to ruined pieces. With every shot, Nancy steps forward, drawing him out, and you’re right behind her. Vecna releases a deep, furious roar. The sound of it sinks into your bones, but you no longer fear him. 

He isn’t worth your fear. 

Nancy raises her gun again. She deals the final blow, sending Vecna through the old, rotted wood of the house into the dark night. He falls, screaming, before everything is quiet. 

The roar of the fire that surrounds you is the only sound. You all stand in the attic, numb. None of it feels real. All that’s left of Vecna is a hole in the house, his body far below, sprawled on the concrete outside. 

“Did we…?” You’re afraid to jinx it, to somehow bring him back. But this has to be it. There isn’t any other way for this to end.

Nancy doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns around, running back down the stairs. No one has to ask why she does this; you all know. There has to be a body. There must be tangible proof that you’ve won.

Everyone runs outside.

Vecna’s body is gone. 

The only indication that he’d been there is an outline of flames that molt the grass below it. But there is no body.

“No,” you run down the steps, kicking through the grass as you look around. You’re frantic, sprawling on the ground as if you’ll find him buried beneath the ash. “No, where is he?”

You killed him. He was on fire. Nancy put more than five bullets in him. He fell from the attic, a height that alone should’ve killed him. Where the fuck is he? You did everything right. Followed every step of the goddamn plan.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Something is wrong, you just don’t know what. Steve and the others join you. They’re quiet, fearing what you’re refusing to even consider. Four deaths. That had been all Vecna needed. But you killed him. “None of this makes sense, unless… Unless he–”

No. 

A bell chimes. 

The sound sends you to the ground. Your knees give out, collapsing under the weight of it all. “No!” Your scream is loud, guttural. Tearing from your chest as it tears out your vocal chords. There’s blood in your mouth and you want it to choke you. 

It’s Max. 

He got her. He killed her. 

All of a sudden there are arms around you. Someone carries you back up the stairs, back into the house that has taken everything from you. Steve holds you to his chest as he, Nancy, and Robin stare at the grandfather clock before them. 

It’s alive.

“Four chimes,” Nancy’s voice can barely be heard above your crying. “Max…”

The realization settles upon all of you. You’re in hysterics, no one can calm you down. You’re crying so hard that you can’t breathe, but you don’t want to breathe anymore. 

Grief pours from you in cruel, bitter waves. All you do is cry, barely even registering the earthquake that follows your devastating loss. 

Steve has to set down your crying figure in order to stabilize Robin and Nancy. You curl into yourself on the ground, making yourself as small as possible. There is too much. It’s all too much. Your head digs into the floor beneath you, cutting you, and your tears mix with the blood. 

Over and over again the clock chimes. Like laughter. His laughter. 

He won. 

Steve holds onto the stairs as the earthquake worsens. He has to crawl over to you; you’re rocking back and forth on the ground, your cries heard even above the cracking of the earth. His hand wraps around your weeping body and he won’t let you go. Steve tries to shield you from fallen debris, the world is falling apart, but you don’t move.

You don’t care anymore. 

It’s always your fault in the end. You lose everyone eventually; you get them killed. You can never save them. You will never be able to save them.

She’s gone. 

Max is gone. 

– 

The days pass. You’ll come to remember them in fragments. 

Returning to Eddie’s trailer and finding Dustin crying over his dead body. Prying him away, your tears mixing with your brother’s when you have to tell him that something has happened to Max.

Finding Hawkins in flames. Seeing the deep gashes in the town you grew up in. Stumbling to the Creel house, racing side by side with the ambulances for everyone within the once quiet town, and collapsing again when you find no one there. 

Going home. Your mother’s arms breaking you. 

Steve. How he never left your side throughout it all. Holding Dustin’s hand, unable to stop crying. 

Visiting Max in the hospital the day after. The stench of sterilizer and surgical tools. Seeing her lifeless body still alive. The countless other bodies in the building that died due to your failure. 

When the news broadcasters announce Hawkins to be cursed. The burden that you can’t tell them that they’re right. The guilt seeing your baby brother’s limp. Another scar he will carry with him forever. 

All the hurt in the town. The pain. 

The collapse of your home; they’re calling it an earthquake. 

It all comes to you in flashes. 

Hawkins high school gets converted into a donation center for everyone dishoused. Visiting it is your idea. You can’t bear the thought of spending any more time inside your home knowing there are hundreds of others who no longer have a place to call home. 

“Anything else?” You place your old comics into one of the boxes you’re donating. 

Dustin shakes his head. “That’s the last of it.”

He hasn’t left your side in days. He still keeps your walkman on him, though neither of you know if it’s important anymore. Dustin is afraid that you’ll never put the headphones on again, even if it could save your life. 

You tape the boxes up, carefully writing down their contents on one of the flaps. Your fingers are scabbed. Your wrist is stiff, locking up if you move it too suddenly. 

Books.

Bedding. 

Clothing.

Anything you can offer, you’d give it all to Hawkins if you could.

Steve picks you up. He helps you put the boxes in the back of his car, gentle with you as always. “You guys ready?”

You nod weakly, and Steve kisses your forehead, careful of the cuts that litter it. He helps you into the car. Turns on your favorite songs. Tries to distract you from the wreckage that encases Hawkins as he drives; you keep your head down. You can’t look at any of it. 

Nancy is waiting in her driveway with Robin, a pile of their own boxes at their feet. They greet you kindly, warmly, with an air of fear that you’ll break, and you’re too tired to pretend. 

“I found some more of your old stuff in the attic,” Mrs. Wheeler walks out of the garage, smiling despite the circumstances. “I think it’s lovely you’re doing this, Y/N.”

“We all just want to help,” you politely respond, staying near Steve’s side. 

Nancy picks up one of the stuffed animals in the box and pouts, seeing her old favorite toy. You’re about to tease her, try to laugh, when a pizza delivery van speeds down the block. 

“Someone order a pizza?” Mrs. Wheeler asks.

“Not that I recall.” You mumble, confused as your eyes follow the car. Every business in Hawkins is shut down right now. It doesn’t make sense for there to be a pizza delivery.

It parks in front of the Wheeler’s, and when you see who steps out, you drop the box you’re holding and run towards them. 

Will and El throw themselves around you, hugging you tightly. Dustin joins, and holding them again, having them here with you, makes everything okay for a moment. Your kids are okay, they’re safe. 

“Are you okay?” El asks you, pulling away slightly. Her eyebrows knit in concern when she notices the cuts on your face and how red your eyes are. “Did he get you?”

Somehow you aren’t surprised that she knows about Vecna. 

“I’m okay, sweetie.” Her hair is buzzed. Already you miss the long strands she once had. You don’t know what she’s been through this last week, but you hope, more than anything, that she hasn’t lost her kindness. “I-I’m okay.”

Your voice catches at the end, and immediately El understands that something else happened.

“We were worried about you,” Will doesn’t let you go. “When El told us what was happening, Jonathan almost lost his mind.”

Jonathan.

Hearing his name makes you remember everything. Instinctively your eyes find him. They always do. Jonathan has Nancy in his arms, but when he senses your eyes on him, he looks up at you. He will always be able to find you. Your heart stops, looking into his once familiar brown eyes.

Jonathan rushes towards you, as he always does, and his arms around you feel like home. 

“Bug,” he breathes against your neck, holding onto you tighter than he ever has before.

You melt when the nickname drips from Jonathan’s lips. It’s been so long since someone has called you that. It’s been even longer since you’ve held Jonathan like this. 

“God, what happened to you?” His eyes roam your body, catching on your bandaged shoulder and thigh. The cuts on your cheek. You try to ease his concern, grabbing his hands, but Jonathan starts to ramble. “We-we tried to get back to Hawkins as soon as we could. The second El told me you were in danger I–”

He inhales shakily, presses his face deeper into your neck. “All I could do to stay sane was think of your voice. Of our last phone call.”

You bury your face into Jonathan’s messy hair. You’re crying, but for what, you don’t know. His scent is bittersweet. His arms are reminiscent of what was once. You’ve missed him, but nothing will ever be the same again.

“I need to see her.” El’s raised voice causes you to let go of Jonathan. She’s standing in front of Dustin, arms crossed, and you know he’s told her the truth. “Take me to Max.”

“What’s wrong with Max?” Mike slings an arm over your shoulders, putting all his body weight against you in greeting. “Miss me, Henderson?”

You move his arm down, forcing him into a hug. You want to remember these next few seconds. The remnants of his childhood before it comes crashing down on him. “I did, Wheeler.”

Mike hugs you back, but when he sees the distress on El’s face, he lets you go and walks towards her. “What? What’s going on?”

Dustin is the one who breaks the news. Shamefully, you know it should’ve been you, but you haven’t been able to say Max’s name in days. There’s too much guilt, remorse, resentment that it hadn’t been you. 

It’s a mess of tears and panic when Dustin tells them. Will covers his mouth, holding back tears, while El storms inside the pizza delivery van as Mike demands that Jonathan take him and everyone else to see Max. They don’t believe any of it. El told them that she saved Max. 

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Jonathan holds his keys up. Everyone else, including Nancy, are already inside. A boy your age, you think his name is Argyle, waves at you from the passenger seat. 

So much has changed. Unable to form the right words, you shake your head at Jonathan. Yet even after months apart, he understands your unspoken words. You can’t see Max again. Not yet. It’s too soon, too much for you to bear.

Seeing her limp body once was enough. 

“We’ll be back,” Jonathan hugs you one last time, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he lets you go. “I promise.”

Steve steps forward then, wrapping an arm around your waist as he stands next to you. The two teens lock eyes, Steve gives Jonathan a cool, steely look. He remembers what you’ve told him. He remembers Jonathan’s words to you before everything collapsed. 

Sensing his anger, you squeeze Steve’s arm. Not here, you beg him. Not now.

Exhaling slowly, Steve offers you his hand. You take it, allowing him to walk you back to his car as the others leave.

– 

The donation center is packed. There are so many people inside, sitting on makeshift cots and pinning missing posters of their loved ones to a bulletin board. Nurses tend to the injured. Mothers cradle their children. The sight makes you ache. All these people, displaced by what they believe to be an earthquake.

You set the boxes down at the main dropoff table, and though the kind employee praises you for how organized the boxes are, you can’t help feeling that you should be doing more. 

In the hundreds of injured and grieving people you’ve seen, you’ve only noticed a handful of workers. 

“Is there any way we can help?” You ask the woman, looking around with a frown.

“Truly anything.” Robin says. “We just… we want to help.”

The woman seems surprised, and you wonder how rare it is for kindness to still be in a town that has known nothing but turmoil these last few years. 

You and Steve get placed sorting clothing while Robin is assigned to the food station. Dustin passes out cups of water for everyone. It isn’t much, but the work is meaningful and it eases the tension in your chest. 

“So…” Steve folds a t-shirt. “Can I ask about Jonathan yet?”

Picking up tattered jeans, you place them in the trash pile. “Might as well.”

“How do we feel about his sudden arrival? I mean, the giant pizza statue on the van was a little dramatic for me.”

He’s trying to keep the conversation light, which you appreciate him for, but you also know that Steve is doing this because he’s worried about you. And, you know, he’s unnerved seeing Jonathan. There’s still a lot left unsaid between you. 

“It’s… a lot.” You admit, struggling to find the right words to convey how you feel. “I’m relieved he’s okay, and I really am happy to see him again, but I… I understand, you know. If you’re upset.”

Steve scrunches his face. “I’m not upset, just… I don’t know. Annoyed with the guy.”

“So you’re upset.”

“Okay, no–”

“Is that Vickie with Robin?” You unintentionally cut Steve off, too surprised by the fact that mere feet away from you is Robin and Vickie making sandwiches together. And they’re laughing. “Are they talking together?”

Steve whips his head around, disbelieving, but lets out a low whistle when he sees Robin making easy conversation with Vickie. “Well I’ll be damned. Who knew our girl had it in her?”

The Jonathan talk lays forgotten as you and Steve admire your friend. You share a secret smile, remembering your own first awkward, bantering conversations together. There is so much pain in this town, and yet you watch as love still blossoms within it.

Across the room, you see Dustin talking to an older man. They’re deep in discussion and you notice your brother’s shaking shoulders. He’s crying. The older man is, too. You narrow your eyes, unsure if you should approach, but when Dustin hands the man Eddie’s old guitar pick, you realize who it is. 

“I’ll be back.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, excusing yourself. 

He tries to ask where you’re going, but you’re already gone. Your brother needs you right now.

Walking over, you stand to the side and allow Dustin and Eddie’s uncle some privacy. While there are so many things you want to say to the man, like how kind his nephew had been, how brilliant his mind was and how you’ll never forget the smile that never left his face, this is for Dustin and Dustin only. 

Eddie was his dearest friend. There is no greater loss than that.

Whatever Mr. Munson tells Dustin will be good for him; it will be the closure you can’t give him yourself. 

An arm wraps around you. You lean into the touch, knowing who it is without even having to look. You rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, exhausted, but content with the warmth he offers you. The two of you keep an eye on Dustin, ready to catch him in case he falls. 

Eventually Mr. Munson leaves, and you take his place next to Dustin. The second you sit down, the boy cries into your shoulder. Tears soak your shirt and your brother’s frail body shakes. “I-I had to tell him that Eddie died a hero.”

“I know,” your head falls against his.

“They’ll never know what he did for this town.” Sobs wrack Dustin’s body. “It isn’t-it isn’t fair.”

You rub his back, brush his hair out of his face. “None of it is fair, Dust.”

He cries even harder and you try to shield him from the world with your body. You try to block out the grief, the bitterness that follows death. How empty it can leave you. An emptiness that can swallow a person whole. 

You won’t let it happen to Dustin. 

“We’re gonna get through this together, alright? You and me, just like it’s always been. I promise–” Your words catch in your throat, tears forming in your own eyes. There’s so much you want to promise your brother, to swear that will come true, but you’re just as hurt and lost as he is. 

“I promise,” you make the words come out. “That everything will be okay. We’ll-we’ll be together, heal and do whatever we can to make everything okay. I-I’ll never leave you, you hear me? I won’t leave you again.”

Though Dustin still cries, his breathing slows. 

“Together. We’ll face this together.” As you talk, you notice a crowd of people swarming by the windows. They’re looking at something, staring and gasping. Your voice grows weak, anxious that something bad is about to happen. “It’ll… it’ll all work out.”

Dustin notices the crowd, too. He looks to you for answers, but you’re silent. You don’t know what’s happening. There’s a murmur in the crowd, hushed, urgent. It sets your skin on edge. Even more people get up now, some are even running outside, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to run. 

Suddenly the room darkens, as if a giant cloud has covered the sky. Your stomach twists, and you get up, following after the crowd. Bodies shove each other, people blindly walk through the haze of whispers and uncertainty. 

When you step outside, all you see is ash.

The ash falls like snowflakes, beautiful and pure. There’s a softness to it, something delicate in the ruin it leaves. Dustin knocks against you, staring up into the sky with the same dread that you feel. The crowd is murmuring with glee, whispering excitedly about what they believe to be snow; but they’re wrong.

You’ve always won in the end. 

You’ve come to believe this to be a fact. You once told Steve that you believed you used up all your luck. Saving Will, closing the gate over and over again. The penance was the deaths from this summer for the greedy way you abused luck.

Steve had reminded you that there was still good leftover in the bad. That there will always be softness in the destruction, a reason for hope. That you will always find a way out, that luck and love were two sides of the same coin.

You’ve always won in the end. 

Yet, lost in the swarm of people, you watch as the sky begins to fall and Hawkins descends into the Upside Down. 

You no longer believe it.

[END OF SEASON FOUR]

-

⌑ series masterlist

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⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ the one where drew breaks up with angel !

warnings: angst, flashback to the argument is italicized, arguing over odessa, reader is sad asl 🩷 also angel x drew is not like a series, so it’s not like they’re broken up ‘forever’ ? if that makes sense. i just make blurbs based on random diff times during the relationship, it’s not like a set series where things are happening in order. hopefully that makes sense to someone 🧁 i kinda hate this. lmk yall

you don’t know how drew did it, how he put a smile on his face for the world to see when he broke your heart last night. was it possible that you really mean nothing to him?

scrolling on your phone looking at all the new pictures of drew at his premiere, he looked so happy. part of you hoped that he felt just as miserable as you did on the inside.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“i mean really drew,” you threw your arms up in the air. “how many fucking times do i need to say i have an issue with her?”

“don’t start this bullshit again.” drew shook his head, you’d never heard him shout at you so loud before. “maybe if you could just have a simple conversation? instead of poutin’ and complaining? all you do is shut down when you’re upset. what am i supposed to do with that?”

you couldn’t even argue because you felt yourself shutting down, just like drew said you always did. “i don’t know what you want me to do.” you sounded so defeated, because you were. you weren’t sure how you were going to dig yourself out of this one. drew didn’t seem to be budging either, like he usually did.

“it’s the same thing over and over.” drew kept going, his temper didn’t seem to be slowing down. was this feeling pent up the whole time? “when have i ever shown you that i’m disloyal to you?”

never. he’s never shown that he’s disloyal to you. not once. "i don’t know! I just dont understand why you need her around when i’ve clearly shown that i don’t like her!” you rebuttled, unsure of anything else to say.

“because y/n, what don’t you get? she’s my fucking friend! she’s been around longer than you! you think i’m just supposed to fucking drop every woman i’ve ever been friends with just to make you happy?” drew got up from your pink fuzzy chair, the one he’s been sat on for the past 20 minutes while arguing with you. you hoped this wasn’t the last time he’d ever be sitting there. “this just isn’t working. i'm sorry” drew led himself out your dorm room, leaving you there crying.

drew hated seeing you cry, so much that he promised you that as long as you were with him, you'd never be left alone or upset, no matter how angry he was.

so, why did he leave you there crying into your own hands, hoping that this wouldn't hurt too much?

ੈ✩‧₊˚

so now, there you laid, on your dorm bed, in the same room drew left you. everything around you reminding you of him, all the stuffies he’d bought you, the pictures of you and him hanging on your wall, the flowers he surprised you with, sitting at your desk - looking right back at you, slowly dying away.

you opened your gallery, there were pictures of him from just two days ago, his eyes filled with nothing but love for you. what went wrong?

[rainyorca]

You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal. 

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that. 

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night. 

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.” 

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.” 

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs. 

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth. 

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again. 

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan. 

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips. 

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.” 

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you. 

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?” 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.  

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.  

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[carbonfiction]

First bloom

Summary: Frank has a moment of vulnerability as he gifts you flowers for the first time.

Happy valentines Besties!! <33

Warnings?: whole lotta fluff really. nothing much to add other than Frank giving reader flowers for the first time and being a little bashful about it. (M' a sucker for a big, gruff, kinda angry man being a sweetheart to the person he loves alright?) possible horrible writing- a girl be struggling..

Pretty obvious buuut with this im adding frankie to my 'will write for' list bc i am, at my very core and before most fixations i ever had, a frank castle girlie.. With that said my normal Logan stuff will remain!! but i thought I'd get this lil thing out while it feels good in my mind and before i make a million changes- writers block has got my ass again but asks are still open!

Masterlist. Words: 1.1k

Franks feet feel heavy in his boots, each step thudding on the concrete. The streets are quiet, winter air crisp and cool as he digs a hand in the pocket of his jeans as he goes. Keep one hand warm and the other? Well.. That one feels pretty cold and yet, strangely, a little clammy at the same time.

In Franks grasp rests a bunch of colourful flowers; lillies, roses, some little delicate buds he doesnt recall the name of for decoration. 'Oh those? Those are called Babys breath frank!' He hopes you'll tell him with a beam later.

The rose thorns prod at his palm, his grip on the bundle of stems tense, but he finds it doesn't hurt the longer he walks. They just.. Ground him slightly as he treads closer to home. Closer to you.

Theres a peace that settles within him in your presence, he finds; one that seems to dim the darkness that swirls in his heart. You ease the ache that so often sits inside him, Never erasing it, no one ever could but.. You lessen it. Always willing to take the weight from his broad shoulders, if only for a little.

And for that? Frank is greatful.

He knows he can be alot; his grumpiness piled almost as high as his baggage. But you dont ever seem to mind.

You embrace him on the days he needs it but cant find it in himself to ask and keep him at arms length when you see in his eyes that being loved feels stifling; its just how life is with him. Yet you do it all with that soft smile and gentle hand, the polar opposite to his rough lines and jagged edges. Keeping him sane on the days when he believes himself to be anything but.

The hand he dug into his pocket seems clammier now as he pulls out his set of keys, the lock clicking open moments later. Its just flowers castle, pull it together he thinks, stepping back into the warm embrace of your apartment. Given girls flowers before for christ sake.

"sweetheart?" he calls out, gruff voice booming through the hall.

You jump slightly at the sound, placing down the wooden spoon that you had been stirring the fragrant pot on the stove with. Voice calling back "in the kitchen!" with a significantly softer tone.

You wait with your body leaning against the counter, observing how the bulk of him rounds the corner. A large arm behind his back; still in his coat. A suspicious rustle of cellophane filling the kitchen as he shifts on his feet, but still you grin at the sight.

"Got everything you needed" he says, hand digging through his coat pocket with various clinks and russles. In his large hand he pulls out a collection of little packets and jars, placing them on the counter. refills of various spices, salts and even a little box of yeast pouches for bread making sit in a heap; things you were running low on earlier.

you beam that perfect smile at him, murmering softly as you step forward, leaning up on your toes to kiss his stubled cheek. "Perfect, thank you frankie"

He accepts the kiss with a soft hum, dipping his head for you to reach.

But still that arm remains behind his back. He almost hopes you dont notice.. But you do, he can tell.

"Uh Frank?.." you start a little cautiously with that same grin, however this time theres a little glint of confusion added as you step back just slightly. "What are you hiding?"

You stew in his silence for a moment, a crease wedging its way back between his brows. Handsome face suddenly filled with... trepidation?

"Frank.." you start again, a little more seriously as you step closer. By now you're fully expecting something bad; that someones been gunning for him again and hes hurt. That there must be blood soaking through his coat and thats why hes hiding.

But as quick as he paused, he sighs, broad shoulders falling just slightly. that same arm once hidden, now outstretched infront of you. The colourful bouquet at eye level as you take it in, a tiny gasp slipping past your lips.

"Frank castle did.." you begin, hand coming to join his on the delicate stems. Your voice is hushed and a little shakey as your eyes scan up and across his face. "Did you buy me flowers?"

His head moves in a little nod, chest puffing out just slightly as he releases his grip; completly surrendering both the flowers and himself.

"Yeah i, uh.." he gruffs, thinking outloud before he stops; practically looking everywhere but at you. The pot on the stove, the cups on the sink, even his boots. Its then he realises that he's almost afraid to see some semblance of rejection in your gaze; that he's missteped or you dont like them. That this sense of peace you wash over him is about to be swept away; wide eyes and incredulous tone not helping his state.

Frank takes another breath, steeling himself; his walls building back up, before he simply settles on a shake of his head and a huff. "Doesn't matter, 's stupid alright"

"No, no its not stupid." you rush out, remaining close as you eye the flowers in your hand and then him again. "They're beautiful frank.."

"Saw em and they reminded me of you so..." he coughs, a large hand scratching at the back of his neck. "thought I'd get em.."

Frank shifts on his feet, stance widening as you suddenly throwing yourself into his arms and grip him tightly; the Boquet landing on the counter seconds before your impact to his chest. You hold him like that for a few quiet moments before you lean back, resting on your tip toes as you cup a rough cheek.

"Thank you.." you whisper softly, honesty pure in your words. A little bashful grin across your lips as you lean up a little higher. "I love them, really. They're perfect"

Frank gazes down at you gently, a finger of his own brushing over your skin as he leans in, kissing you with such unspoken emotion it could knock you off your feet- if he wasnt already keeping you up.

"Yeah sweetheart? Really think they are all that?" he murmers, forehead against yours, the air of unease beginning to slip from your reaction. Enjoying the endearing heat of your gaze.

Your lips meet his in another tender kiss as you press the words against him; though they hold a hidden, deeper meaning. "Yeah Frank.. I really do"

[urwritethanks]

Someone said that if this was just a Netflix show he would have ate her out at the ending of EP 2. And let's just say that's what inspired this.

Anyway, hello 👋🏾 Yes I am shamelessly joining everyone in the excitement for this show. Did I start the show at 11pm? Yes. Did I then proceed to immediately start writing this at 2am? Yes. And you know what? I have no regrets (it's now basically 5am).

This is obviously an interpretation in an alternate timeline/universe. Dont get your panties in a bunch. Also my writing is not perfect. This ended up being longer than anticipated but apparently thats my m.o. I rarely get inspired to write so I wanted to just get it all out. Enjoy!

The glass shattered as it hit the floor.

Hee Joo could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands were clammy and she felt out of breath.

How could she be so silly? How had she walked into this mess? 'A fire .. my god' she thought. 'Was he hurt?' What if at this very moment he was in the hospital? She'd known since last night something was wrong. She'd felt it in her gut.  That was why she had waited for him. Only exhaustion had allowed her to sleep. Now hours later she wished she had done something, anything. But what could she have done? Everyone saw her as useless. What could she do now? She needed to-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the door lock. 'He's here!?' She thought in equal parts shock and relief.

The news in the background continued as he came into view. She was expecting him to be disheveled but she still was not prepared.

His shirt had soot and dirt. His hair looked as though he had been running his hand through it all night. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep. But more than that, they were filled with emotion. She had never seen him.. so affected.

He stalked toward her. Instinctively she stepped back only to come in contact with the table. She almost gasped when his hands found her waist and lifted her to the table. He must have lost his mind last night. In all their years of marriage she could count on one hand the number of times he'd touched her this way.

Her breath was caught in her throat. She stared at him stunned.

"Lately, nothing makes sense" Sa Eon said.

"There can't be a Hong Hee Joo I don't know about."

Hee Joo's brain was not working. She couldn't think straight with him this close. What did he mean?

"I need to find out" he continued, eyes shifting to her skirt "which one is the real one".

She knew. She knew before he moved what he was going to do.

"Right now, you're my only lead. So cooperate."

He reached for her skirt. Lifting it two inches before instinct had her stopping him.

He was really going to do it! Oh my, why had she gotten herself into this situation? How would she keep him from doing this now? When he was so determined. And why was she..getting turned on. Maybe it was how close he was to her. Maybe it was because it had been years since she had been with someone. But she knew the truth was it was his eyes. The way they seemed to be staring into her soul. The way they were showing so many emotions. Anger, confusion, frustration ...lust.

Was she imagining that last one?

"Do you want to take it off, or should I?". He had fisted her skirt. She stared at him chest rising and falling as though all the oxygen was gone from the room.

She didn't know what came over her. Before she could think about it her hand continued where he had left off.

His eyes never left hers the entire time. While a moment ago he was almost desperate, now it seemed as though he had all the time in the world.

She lifted it just enough to reveal what she knew he wanted to see. The material bunching in her lap but still covering her under garment. Slowly his eyes shifted down. Where ever his eyes touched felt like fire on her skin. She saw the moment he found her mole. His jaw clenched  and when she looked down his hand which had fallen beside her leg on the table was balled into a fist.

He exhaled loudly "I see.. so this is the real Hee Joo." His hand lifted. Finger tracing a circle around the mold. She felt that movement deep, her stomach clenching.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until his commanding voice said "Breathe". Before she could think she breathe in and out in a huff . God why did she always listen to everything he said?

As she continued to breathe the circles seemed to be getting larger. Covering more area on her thigh. Was she dreaming? She must be because he reached to lift the skirt higher revealing more and more skin. This is exactly what dream Sa Eon would do. Only in her dreams, dreams buried deep down could this be happening.

He only stopped once her centre was exposed. The skin tone underwear was now clearly visible to him. She watched him as his eyes feasted on her. She saw him swallow and he murmured something that even her fine tuned ears did not pick up.

When he reached for her she came back to herself and grabbed his wrist. His eyes found hers. Searching. She must have been doing a terrible job of hiding how much this was affecting her because whatever he saw in her eyes had him smirking and then he leaned forward and captured her mouth.

She gasped into the kiss. Then it was a flash of tongues and breathe. Her mind was spiraling not able to keep up or put into perspective what was happening. Sa Eon kissed exactly how she expected him to.  He directed and she was more than happy to follow his lead. One of his hands found her jaw and he maneuvered her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands found their way around his neck and into his already messy hair. This man was talented. He kissed her as though he was thirsty and she was the last drink of water on earth. He kissed her as though he had been wanting to do this for the last three years. He kissed her as though she was his.

When she broke the kiss, breathing heavy he simply shifted to her neck, her clavicle. The low vee of her shirt allowing him access. Her head fell back as she gave him more room.

Suddenly she felt his fingers on the outer edge of her panties. At the same moment his mouth was doing magical things to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. She shifted on the table humming as his fingers made their way to her entrance.

"I haven't heard this much sound from you in a long time" he paused whatever he was doing to her neck to say. "Maybe I should have done this sooner".

His finger was now working circles around her clit. Rather than go back to kissing her neck his eyes found hers as she slowly began to lose herself to the sensations. They were having a conversation without words. When his finger entered her she gasped and closed her eyes.

"Look at me" he said. Her eyes fluttered open to find his lit and studying her. He began to move his finger in and out. She bit her lip and her head fell back.

"Look at me" he reiterated. And his commanding tone coupled with a second finger joining the first had her head snapping back up.

"You will watch."

Suddenly his fingers left her and in a swift move he grabbed the waistband of her panties and ripped. Then before she could recover from that his hands moved her thighs further apart and his mouth found her, his tongue hot on her most private place. She was so stunned she didn't have a moment to feel exposed. Then sensation began traveling through her body.

She was getting more and more wet as he continued. His tongue feasting on her sensitive clit then moving to her entrance. The more wet she got the more he lapped, groaning and tightening his grip on her waist. Her thighs began to tremble and with each lap of his tongue she fell a little further under his spell. When his tongue entered her, her hands gave out and she fell to her elbows. Her eyes almost closed until she remembered what he had said. When she looked down she found him watching her as his tongue continued to torture her. She couldn't believe this was happening. How had they got here? Watching her watch him seemed to do something to him, as his onslaught became more ferocious she could only hold on for the ride.

He knew everything about her. He made it his job. Nothing could put all his skills to better use than his wife. And maybe that is why finding out he may not know her like he thought he did these last few days was driving him crazy.

All he could think about was her safety. But more than anything he was angry. Angry that this stranger who had no right to had seen her. Taken her hostage! Had her photo to leer over! It made him feral.

All he had wanted to do after last night's events was set eyes on her. Make sure she was safe. But when he'd seen her all his plans flew out the window. Suddenly he needed to know,  was she his Hee Joo?

Now with his head between her thighs, her hand fisting his hair and those breathy noices she was making (which were quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds) he knew she was.

He loved her taste and the more wet she got, the happier he was. He watched as her eyes glazed over as she gave in to everything he was giving her.  She began to shift her hips now, unconsciously chasing her orgasm. What she didn't know is he would give her anything she wanted.

Now as he watched her, her eyes seemed to be begging him, a tiny furrow in her brows and he was more than willing to oblige. He shifted, his mouth again finding her clit while his fingers entered her again. He pulled, hard with his mouth and thrust his fingers at the same time. Her thighs tightened around his head. He sweeped his tongue from her clit to her entrance a satisfied groan low in his throat. That also seemed to have an effect on her. He picked up the pace his eyes finding her again. Not wanting to miss a moment of her pleasure. He felt and heard the moment she came. Her core quivered and released a rush of moisture. At the same time she gasped loudly and bucked her hips. He knew it was with difficulty that she kept her eyes trained on him. He could swear he saw them get two shades darker.

For several moments she didn't breathe, suspended in the pleasure her body was giving her. He continued his onslaught until she came down. The hand in his hair going slack and a rush of breath finally expended from her. She seemed to sag onto the table. As much as she could anyway as she tried to keep her eyes on him.

He kissed her one last time reverently. When he glanced up he could see the panic and confusion beginning on her face. Her hands went up to cover her face and she laid on the table.

He adjusted her skirt back down to cover her. "Get cleaned up" he said. Knowing if he even tried to talk about or explain this it would go in one ear and out the other.

"I'm going to take a shower; then I'll make you breakfast and we can talk".

She was shaking her head before he was finished.  Her fingers shifting so she could peek through.

He left her like that, making his way to his room to shower. He knew she was even now probably trying to find a way to get out of speaking to him. But make no mistake, he had gotten a taste and he was far from satisfied.

[bqu1nns]

im sorry i havent been posting, i feel like shit because ive been sick but i wanted to post this fic still ! someone requested a jealous!brian + sal sister trope because they liked it so much (thank you!) so here u go! whomever u are, i love u and it was awesome writing this. love u guys, i hope u are all safe and if i dont see u guys soon, happy new year ! my request box is open still if u guys want me to write anything specific AND i am open to writing for people who arent brian quinn lol !! hit me up ! toodles xx

daddy's girl 𐙚 brian q.

3219 words! my biggest one :3

the party was absolute chaos, which was what the vulcano’s were known for. well, mostly what sal was famous for. his apartment buzzed with energy, filled with people laughing too loudly and moving in and out of the hallways like it was some kind of jungle. you stayed by the hall, nursing a drink you didn't even like, your eyes doing what they’d been doing the entire night: tracking him. 

brian quinn. your boyfriend. or a friend you fool around with from time to time.

he was in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter like he owned the damn place. one hand holding a beer, his hand collecting liquid as his beer was getting warm, the other tucked casually into his pocket. he looked completely at ease. as if you didn't even exist to him. but you knew him better than that. you’d noticed the sparkle in his eyes when you walked in, the way his lips twitched like he wanted to grin but knew he couldn't. not here. not now. 

not with sal just across the room, playing host like he was the king of staten island. no one knew about the stolen kisses in dimly lit corners, the late night drives when you just couldn't keep your hands off of each other, or the way brian’s voice softened when he whispered your name in private when you belonged to him. the secret felt like it was fraying at the edges, waiting to be ripped off at any given moment. 

and then there was her.

she was standing almost too close, her body turned towards him like some damn flower bending to the sunlight. she laughed a little too loudly at something he said, her arm resting on his arm.

her arm resting on his arm. !!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

your stomach churned with something that you hadn't felt before, something that you couldn't even name, but it wasn't jealousy. no, that would be way too simple. it was something far worse.

it was possession. 

it hasn't always been this way—those stolen moments when no one was looking, when hands lingered just a second longer than intended, when his lips brushed yours like it was a secret between the two of you and no one else’s (which it was). but tonight? tonight was different. his gaze flickered across the room, catching yours for just a beat too long, but he didn't even move. instead, his attention slid back to the brunette, laughing like it didn't matter. like you didn't matter. 

you tried to look away, tried to focus on something—anything else. but the knot in your stomach tightened with every laugh he shared with her, with every gesture that seemed so familiar but so distant tonight. it made you want to scream. 

“hey,” someone said, his smile wide. “i don't think we’ve met. i’m jason.” you couldn't help but smile back, even if it was a little forced. “hi, jason.” you didn't want to seem rude to a polite man.

jason extended his hand and though it was unnecessary, you shook it anyway. his grip was firm, the kind of handshake rich people would have. “you must be new around here. i haven't seen you around at sal’s parties before,” he said, leaning casually. “i don't come to them often, he's my brother but they aren't really my scene. i just wanted to come to support him, i guess.”

his grin widened, teeth almost disturbingly white and flashy. “ah, one of those ‘too cool to party’ types, huh,” he teased, his tone light. “let me guess–you were dragged here against your own will?”

you laughed softly, amused by him now. “something like that.” jason leaned in slightly to whisper in your ear. “i'm sorry but i actually already knew you were sal’s sister,” his tone shifted to sound smug. your brows rose in mild surprise. “oh really? then why’d you ask..”

he shrugged casually, taking a sip of his drink. “just thought i’d have a little fun. but, actually, sal told me earlier. he mentioned you’d be here tonight and, uh…” his eyes flicked over you briefly. “suggested that i’d keep an eye out for you. said something about you not being a fan of these kinds of things.”

you blinked, the revelation catching you off guard. “he told you to keep an eye on me? how pathetic. sounds more like babysitting to me,” you scoffed at the thought. “hey, honestly, if he didnt say anything, i probably would’ve noticed you anyway.” you tilted your head, “oh really?”

“yeah,” he replied smoothly. “you don't exactly blend into the background, y’know.” it was a compliment, sure, but it landed a little too practiced. you rolled your eyes but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips despite yourself. “thanks, i guess,” you said dryly. 

“no prob. so, what's it gonna take to make sure you dont bolt from this party in the next 5 to 10 minutes?” before you could answer, you felt it—an unexpected pressure against your side, like someone had bumped past you with purpose and undetermined effort. without warning, you felt brian. his shoulder collided with yours, hard enough to send you stumbling slightly. 

“mind if i borrow her for a few minutes, man?”

your heart skipped a few beats at the sound of brian’s voice—like warm honey mixed with something darker. he didn't even glance at jason, his eyes were on you, the intensity in them almost too irresistible to ignore.

without missing a beat, brian stepped forward, pushing past jason as if he wasn't even there. before you could even process what was happening, he had you pressed against the nearest wall, his hand bracing behind your head while his lips crashed into yours. the world seemed to blur all around you, the party, the noise, the eyes of anyone else—they all simply faded. it was just brian, the heat of his body against yours, the urgency in his kiss that made everything else matter significantly less. 

for a moment, you forgot about the idea of sal seeing the two of you making out on his wall, about jason, about the fact that you were pretty much in a hallway at a crowded party. even though a small voice in the back of your head screamed that this wasn't the place, you didn't even care anymore. brian’s chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy but his eyes burned with something between frustration and want. 

“you're impossible,” you whispered, but there wasn't a real bite in your tone. it came out much softer, breathless, as you tried to catch up with everything that just happened

“me? you're the one flirting with your brother’s idiot coworker,” brian shot back, voice rough, but his hands—one sliding up to cradle your jaw—was anything but harsh. “do you have any idea what that just did to me, sweetheart? watching him try to charm you, knowing damn well hes out of your fucking league? huh?”

you tried to come up with something clever, something biting, but all you could manage was: “then do something about it.” his eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening as if he didn’t hear you correctly. “let’s go,” you said, your voice steady as you grabbed him by his hand and started pulling him towards the hallway.

“where?” he asked, though there wasn't hesitation in the way he followed. you glanced back at him, biting back a laugh. “the bathroom. we need to talk.” he let out a disbelieving laugh but you didn't ignore the excitement in his eyes. “talk, huh?”

the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind the two of you, the muffled sounds of the party fell away, leaving only the sound of your own raging heartbeat roaring in your ears. you turned to face brian, who already had his arms leaning back against the sink, a grin tugging his lips. 

his gaze was relentless, dragging over you in a way that felt like he could see straight through every wall you’d built around yourself. “you're gonna tell me what the hell that was out there?” his voice was low, the kind of tone that left no room for denial. “what do you mean?” you shot back, though your voice came out more innocent than you intended. 

brian tilted his head, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he was trying to stay cool and calm, though you could feel his restraint unraveling right in front of your eyes. “don't play cute with me, doll. you know exactly what i'm talkin’ about. jason.”

you bristled, stepping closer to him, your heart flaring up again. “oh, so it's my fault now? you've been busy charming every single girl in the room except me, but the second someone so much as talks to me, you act—”

“like you're mine?” he interrupted, his voice sharp enough to cut through you. he pushed himself off the sink, coming towards you. “yeah, i do. because you are.” your breath caught in your throat, but brian wasn't finished. 

“do you have any idea what it's like to stand there and watch some dickhead try to put his hands in your pants?” his voice softened but his words burned hotter by the minute. “you smiling at him, letting him think he could take you home for the night? do you know what that did to me?”

his words hit you like a large swell, stealing the air from your lungs. “i don't want anyone else looking at you like that, touching you,” he continued. “not when i know what's mine. and you are, baby. dont even try and deny it.” you swallowed hard, his words making your pulse thunder in your ears. “brian i’m s–”

his thumb traced your delicate jaw, his touch gentle. “say it,” he urged, almost pleading. “say you're mine.” your heart pounded, all your defenses crumbling under one blow; under the weight of his words and the intensity in his longing gaze. “i'm yours. only yours,” you admitted, the confession falling from your lips like some secret you could no longer bear to keep. 

you opened your mouth to respond even more but brian didn't give you the chance. his lips were on yours again, this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize every part of you. the kiss’s tenderness made your stomach do somersaults. your hands found their way to his shirt, fisting the fabric as he pressed closer, the heat of him overwhelming in such a small space. his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you let out a soft moan that seemed to spur him on, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you even tighter against him. 

“god, you have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he moaned against your lips, voice husky, laced with raw need. “do’ya feel that? it's all because of you,” he murmured, placing your hand on his hard bulge, grinding against your hand. his lips moved to your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve until he reached your neck. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head, letting him get more access as he nipped and sucked sweet hickeys along your sensitive skin just below your ear. 

“brian.. i need you,” you whimpered, your voice trembling equally with desire and disbelief. he hummed in response, his lips curving into a smile against your sweet skin. “say it again,” he murmured, his hand unbuttoning your shirt, his fingers shaky. 

you swallowed hard, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “i need you so bad right now.. do whatever you want,” you pleaded, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat and shared breaths of desperation. 

“fuck, youre so goddamn beautiful, baby,” he growls, his large hands cupping your breast as he takes in the sight of your heaving chest. you gasp at the sudden contact of his warm hands, arching into his touch as he kneads the soft flesh. “need to be inside of ya, doll. i need to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock. ”, he sounds desperate and needy. “m’gonna make you feel so good baby. not gonna stop ‘til you're screaming my name.”

he lifts you onto the sink, spreading your legs as wide as he steps between them. his hands tremble slightly as he unzips his jeans, his fingers fumbling with the button in his haste to get them off. i bet his cock hurts so bad right now. he shoves his pants down his legs, kicking them aside as he steps out of them. his boxers follow quickly, revealing his hard, throbbing cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. 

he wraps his large hand around his shaft, his fingers squeezing tightly as he pumped himself up and down, his eyes locked on your almost-naked form in the mirror. he spits into his palm, rubbing the saliva all over his cock, making it glisten in the harsh bathroom light. 

his hands slide down your sides, fingers dripping beneath the waistband of your skirt. he tugs it down along with your pretty laced panties, letting them pool at your ankles. the cool feeling of the sink hits your bare skin, making you shiver with anticipation. brian steps closer to you, his rough fingers parting your slick folds. he rubs your clit in rough, quick circles. “fuck, how’re you wet for me baby? such a needy little girl, aren't you…me getting jealous, did that excite you or somethin’?” he chuckles to himself, his voice vibrating to my core. 

“fuck– fuck no. was thinkin’ of taking him home, actually”, you moan softly as the heat spreads all over your body. his fingers curled deeper inside you, the squelch of his fingers fuck into you, fast and deep, the answer was quite enough. “mmph okay, tell me sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing past the corner of my mouth, he's teasing. “would he have you sprawled out on your brothers sink, already fucked out just by his fingers? would he have let you cum on his fingers?”

you're panting now, brian’s name leaving your lips in a wave of whines and moans. brian drinks it all in, his hand leaving your clit to pinch at your nipple. “c'mon sweetheart, you can tell me anything,” he says, cockily and sweet all in one. 

“you–aah!–drive me fucking insane. you think i wanted that prick?” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “you think i was smiling at him because i wanted him to fuck me, to mark me as his? you–shit–couldn't be more wrong, brian.” 

brian's fingers slow for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your nipple before he continues his motions. you cry out, eyes shut closed, hips bucking forward. you want more, if that was even humanly possible. you're not sure if you can handle more. your eyes struggle to stay open, but when you open them, you catch the flash of brian’s pleased grin–fixated on your dumb-fucked expression before he focuses back between your thighs. 

“such a pretty pussy,” his fingers never spotting their relentless thrusting on your clit, “i bet jason would've loved to see me pounding into this tight hole. hear you screaming my name, begging for me. fuck, i bet he’d cum so hard,” his words were filthy. he was marking you, claiming you as his own. god help you, you loved it. 

“it's the fact that i can't stand the thought of anyone else touchin’ you, baby, lookin at you, even dreaming about you. you're mine. y-you've ruined me for anyone else. always you, baby. always.”

his words seem to steal your breath. you turn your head to kiss him. you both pour everything you have into it. he positions himself up, the head of his fat cock nudging at your entrance. he spreads your puffy lips apart as he slowly sinks into your heat. an inch, then another, until your walls were stretching beautifully around him. “fuck me… youre so tight. gonna take all of me, aren't you?”

you gasp at the sudden fullness, “brian… there's probably a line out there, they’ll hear us!”, you cry, tears bubbling. brian is quick to shush you, using his big hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. his hips snap against yours as he pounds relentlessly into you. the sink below you rattles with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the distant music. “you did this to me, now you're goin’ to have to deal with it, princess,” he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes you go insane. your legs begin to shake, he can feel your walls fluttering as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. 

your cheeks burn fiercely as brian’s hot breath ghosts over your lips, you guys are practically forehead to forehead together, spewing filth as he rams his thick cock into your hole over and over. the squelching of your mixed juices has your ears ringing and your thighs shaking. just as you were about to cum, there was a loud banging on the other side of the door, none other than your brother. “whoevers in there, hurry the fuck up!” 

“i’m busy here, sal!” brian called out, voice straining as he's too focused on making you cum. he knew you were close. “gonna fuck you so good, you’ll be feeling me for days.” you moan at that, arms sprawled onto his bare back. “fill this pussy up with your cum, mark me as yours, please” you seeth. your words are like a drug to him, spurring him on. you meet his thrusts, your manicured nails digging into his back as you cling to him, the pleasure building and building. “bri! oh god, brian, gonna cum on your cock!” he pounds into you harder, “let me feel this pussy squeeze me. fuck–fuck– gonna fill you up, make you mine. you can cum, you've been a good girl.” he’s talkative alright. 

that's all it took before you're gushing around brian’s dick. you think you screamed, biting down way too hard on his hand that was covering your mouth. he lets out a low whimper, spraying your walls with his warm cum. he sinks his teeth into your warm shoulder in attempts to cover his sounds as he comes. he doesn't stop thrusting and bucking his hips into yours, riding out both of your orgasms.

he looks completely fucked. you both do. your hair is a mess and you just realize all the hickeys you left on his chest, bright and red. brian smirks at the state of you, noticing how you both have to get out of the party looking like this. 

“i hate you,” you mutter as you try to catch your breath. he laughs, wincing when he pulls his sensitive cock out of you. “yeahhh sure,” he says as he puts his jeans back on and zips his fly back up. 

“you need to wear this dress more often, baby.” he says as he presses a few kisses to your cheek, and also a light smack to your butt. you don't respond with words, only an annoyed huff as you get down from the sink to put your dress back on. 

you hope this dress is long enough to cover up the stream of brian's cum traveling down your thighs for the rest of the night.

--

𖹭 happy new years !!! and thank u all so much for 200 followers <3

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) reader

Tags: neighbors, close proximity, sexual tension, roommates, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, touching, fluff, domestic

Chapter 3: Spending so much time with Jason in close proximity is distracting. Poison Ivy breaks into the safe house and kisses you with her toxin, knowing you'll do whatever she tells you. And what she tells you to do...

You woke up in a strange place, disoriented and confused. You took in your surroundings: a loft with exposed brick walls, minimalist furniture, and a cleanliness that felt almost military. The events of the previous day crashed into your mind like a tidal wave, and your heart sank. The vial, the body, your formula. Guilt and fear twisted inside you.

You sat up, wearing clothes that weren't yours—an oversized t-shirt with a Guns N Roses album cover on the front and sweatpants, both too big for your frame. Red Hood had given them to you last night. You remembered his voice, calm and authoritative. You were in his safe house, you remembered. Hiding from the world that might condemn you for murder.

The door opened, and Red Hood stepped in, carrying a gym bag. Your gym bag.

He paused when he saw you awake.

"Morning," he said, his voice low, tired. You presumed he had been out all night getting your things. Then he'd confirmed, "I brought some of your clothes."

"Thanks," you replied, your voice small. You got up off the couch and accepted the bag and rummaged through it, finding familiar items. It felt strange, intimate even, knowing he had gone through your things.

Seeing you in his clothes did something to Jason. The shirt hung off your shoulder, and his sweats hung loosely at your hips, emphasising how much smaller you were compared to him. He felt a surge of adoration, mingled with a sense of possessiveness. He even began to regret bringing you your clothes, not minding the idea of you wearing his for a bit longer.

"I'm sorry about everything," you said, your voice trembling. "I never meant for this all to happen."

"It wasn't your fault," he replied firmly, his tone effortlessly intimidating. "You were set up."

You looked up at him, confused. "How do you know?"

He hesitated. "I don't. I guess you could say it's a hypothesis."

You recounted the events of the previous day, the death, the chance encounter with your professor. What if she had told someone she saw you.

What you were unaware of was that Jason had already broken into Dr. Harrison's place, gathering enough blackmail to ensure her silence. He figured that his threat and the broken wrist were enough to persuade her. He didn't want to burden you with those details.

"It's strange," you admitted, “you having to hide your face in your own home.” You looked down at your hands. "I understand why you can't reveal your identity, but..."

An idea struck you. Digging through the bag, you found an old silk scarf you'd sighted there. "What if I wear a blindfold? You could take off your helmet without me seeing you. You should be able to, anyway. It's your home, not mine."

Red Hood considered this. The thought of removing his helmet and letting his guard down was both terrifying and tempting. He took the scarf from your hands, inspecting it, and confirmed it wasn't sheer before handing it back.

You tied the scarf around your head, making sure you couldn't see anything. "Okay, ready."

You heard the sound of him removing his helmet, a soft hiss of released air. There was a moment, then his voice, softer now, more human. "Can you see anything?"

"No," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's completely dark."

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He put his hands in his pockets.

You tilted your head, trying your best to have a look, only to come up short. “I dont know.”

He smirked. “Perfect.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Can you think of anyone who'd want to sabotage you?” Jason asked as he guided you to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, taking out bread and butter. He was starving from his shitty night.

You considered his question, standing barefoot on the cool parquet of his kitchen.

You told him about your co-workers and lab partners and how you perceived behavior towards you. As you spoke, you heard the sound of pen on paper every once in a while, jotting down details.

You began to pace, making small steps as you tried to provide sufficient details. At one point, you stumbled, and he caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

He liked having you in his arms, feeling your warmth against him. He wished he could tell you who he really was, to share more than just his alter ego with you. But for now, this was enough. He would keep you safe, no matter what.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason watched you navigate the room with his guidance, the oversized clothes making you look cute in a way that amused him. He couldn't help but notice how you seemed out of place yet oddly endearing in his loft.

He remembered the first words you spoke to him last night, smiling to himself.

"So,” he began, feeling bold. “I'm 'your hero'?"

There was a teasing edge to his voice, and you felt a flush creep up your neck.

"I-um-well..." You stammered, trying to find the right words. "It was just... you saved me. Twice now, actually."

“Really?” Jason chuckled, a deep sound that made you squirm. "When was the first time?"

You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed. "It was my first year at uni. A group of us went out, and we ended up at a bar. And then some big, creepy guys circled me when I left to get some air."

Jason's attention sharpened. He didn't speak, letting you continue.

You took a deep breath. "I was scared, but then you showed up. You didn't even do much - you didn't soeak. Just lifted your guns and made a show of aiming them at them,” you chuckled at the thought. “And they ran. You were so badass!"

He smirked, enjoying your giddiness and the way you blushed.

You smiled, though he couldn't see it. "I never forgot that night."

Jason couldn't recall the incident, which made sense. There had been no fight, no trouble—nothing memorable. But hearing your story, seeing how much it meant to you, made him feel something unexpected.

"Glad I saved you twice," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

You blushed deeper, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. The embarrassing part was that you'd imagined how you'd run into him again at least a hundred times in your mind. And when you finally did run, you babbled like an idiot, and on top of that, had pulled him into your trouble. “I just hate being so fucking helpless sometimes, you know?”

He stepped closer. "There's something you can help me with."

You blinked in surprise behind your blindfold.

"Help me investigate this. Find out who set you up." He said.

A lot was on your mind. You were grateful he believed your innocence. You were scared to touch the formula again, but you couldn't deny the burning curiosity to analyse it that circled your mind.

"Okay."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason enjoyed the way you reacted to him, the way a simple touch could make you blush and squirm.

At times, he would conduct experiments of his own. Touches that to you could seem innocent and accidental, but we're entirely intentional.

One evening, after a long day of working on the formula, you and him sat together on the grey couch in his loft. His mask was off. You wore your makeshift blindfold. You'd gotten used to the silk scarf over the past few days.

“What can you tell me about Elizabeth Langstrom?” He asked casually.

You put down your cup of tea. "She's my head of research. She's really smart. I go to her for help."

"So she's a mentor to you.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

You thought about it. “She came over to drop off some samples I asked for… before I went out to the club.” You realised out loud.

He hummed. “Did she give you anything before you went out that night? Something you might have overlooked?"

You hesitated, the edge in his voice making you shiver. "No, I don’t think so."

Jason leaned in closer. You felt his body heat closer to you. "Think carefully. Could she have slipped the vial into your purse?"

You were quick to deny his acusation. "No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s always been kind to me."

Jason’s fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch lingering with an unsettling intimacy. The closeness and his commanding presence made your heart race.

Her reactions are priceless, he thought, Every flinch, every stammer—it’s all so… fascinating.

You were trying so hard to hold it together.

"You sure about that?" He continued, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "People wear masks, y/n. They show one face to the world while hiding another. I think she could be hiding something from you. And I think you think so too.”

You felt your skin flush, your voice trembling. "I don’t believe she would. She’s always been kind."

Jason’s hand trailed down your neck, his fingers grazing your skin with a deliberate, chilling touch. The intensity of his presence, combined with the lack of sight, heightened your vulnerability.

She’s scared… why? he mused, although I suppose it could come in handy… fear makes people easier to control

It sure worked on Harrison. And half the crime scene in Gotham, who he held in the palm of his hand. But he didn't want to control you, did he? He craved control in every aspect of his life. But with you… he wasn't sure…

His proximity and the deliberate nature of his touch made it difficult for you to think clearly.

"I- I don’t know." You swallowed. "Maybe she did, but I can’t be sure. Why would she betray me?"

"People betray each other for all sorts of reasons," he said. "Maybe she wanted something you had, or maybe she was pressured into it. I need to find out the truth. Can you remember anything else?"

You searched your mind. "She didn't seem threatened. She was calm. The same she always was. We had a good talk about my thesis. She said that I could change everything." You smiled at the memory.

Your giddiness was cut short by a mental image of the dead thug, branches sprouting out of his body.

"It could" his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I need to talk to her." You spoke up suddenly, conveying the urgency in your voce. "I need to hear her thoughts about the formula."

"I cant let you do that." He interjected.

"I trust her, red." You insisted, trying out the nick name for the first time.

"Trust is a luxury we can’t afford." He responded. "We find the truth, or we pay the price."

“How do I know I can trust you then,” you whispered in challenge.

“You can always trust your instincts y/n.” He explained. “And your instincts are telling you I would never hurt you.”

The intensity of the moment left you unsettled. Because he was right.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The next evening, Jason decided it was time to investigate Elizabeth Langstrom's apartment. Armed with the information you had given him, he made his way to the upscale part of Gotham where she lived.

Meanwhile, you were home alone. Comfortable in one of your short sundresses, trying to distract yourself with television.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle but firm hand turn your chin. Before you could react, a pair of soft lips pressed against yours. You jumped back in surprise, your heart racing as you recognized the intruder.

"Dr. Langstrom?" you gasped, staring wide-eyed at your head of research. Her presence was unsettling, her sudden appearance leaving you breathless.

Dr. Langstrom smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Y/N," she chastized softly. "You haven't come to speak to me for the past week. Is everything alright?"

You had too many questions. How had she found out where you were hiding? Why did she kiss you? How did she break in?

You tried to step back, but the room began to feel dreamlike, your head spinning. An inexplicable wave of happiness and vulnerability washed over you. You struggled to piece together what was happening, the suspicion growing in your mind that Dr. Langstrom had somehow drugged you.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling but laced with a giggle.

Dr. Langstrom’s eyes sparkled as she avoided your question, instead reaching out to caress your cheek. "I just wanted to see you," she cooed playfully. "I’ve missed you."

Her touch was both soothing and unsettling, the drug making you pliant to her manipulations. Your thoughts became hazy, and you found yourself smiling, unable to resist her advances.

"I want you to do something for me, y/n," Dr. Langstrom whispered, her lips close to your ear. "I want you to kiss the Red Hood. Until you’re both breathless."

The words echoed in your mind, and despite the sinister undertone, you found yourself nodding, feeling oddly agreeable. "Kiss the Red Hood... until we’re both breathless," you repeated, the drug making it seem like the most delightful request.

Dr. Langstrom chuckled, a playful edge to her voice. "Good girl. Now, forget that you saw me tonight. You never saw me."

Her words seeped into your consciousness, the command taking hold as the drug dulled your senses. You nodded again, feeling the fog of forgetfulness settle over your mind.

"I never saw you," you repeated obediently, a blissful look on your face.

Dr. Langstrom gave you one last, lingering caress before turning and leaving your apartment. You stood there for a moment, the room spinning around you, before collapsing onto the couch, your mind a haze of happy confusion and compliance.

You waited eagerly for the moment he'd come back home.

[slaybestieslay946]

Stay

pairing: paul atreides x reader

word count: 2000

warnings: light angst with a happy ending

summary: you are the empress of the known universe alongside paul atreides, however, you dont agree with what hes doing, so you give him an ultimatum.

You had always loved the rain. Especially on Caladan. Yes, on your home planet it had rained fairly frequently, but it wasn’t the same. The rain on Caladan came down by the bucket full, not measly little drops. Each minute sheets of water fell from the sky like rolls of silver fabric. 

The only thing that lulled you to sleep more effectively than rain on a window, was the slow, contented breathing of your husband beside you, and the slow movement of his fingers brushing against your waist. Every now and again he’d re-adjust his position to get even closer to you. 

Usually he fell asleep before he was practically clinging to you, but tonight was not one of those occasions. 

“Paul,” You laughed breathily, pushing away from him a bit in order to spin in his arms and face him. 

He groaned in complaint as you moved away from him and opened his eyes blearily. 

“Why’re you moving away…” He complained, trying to pull you back to him. 

“Because you’re practically on top of me, I’m not a hot water bottle.” You chided, although the teasing smile on your face gave away your true feelings. 

“No, you’re better.” He said, a sly smile on his face, “Now c’mere, I’m cold.” 

You sighed, but did as he said, tugging his arm around you and lacing your fingers together. 

You could feel Paul’s smile on the back of your neck as he found a way to hold you even closer. 

“I love you.” He whispered, and you replied in kind, the smile that formed on your face certain to match the one he was currently wearing. 

“Promise you’ll stay with me?” 

“Mhm. I promise.” 

Now, as you paced nervously around the hangar, you couldn’t help but think back to that promise you had made. At the time, you thought that nothing could tear you away from Paul Atreides, not the sun nor the stars. 

Of course, you could never have planned for him becoming Emperor of the known universe. And you could have never known that it would be him tearing the both of you apart. 

At first, when you had been planning your escape, you had hoped that the aircraft would arrive before your husband. That was before you remembered who your husband was now. He would notice you were gone almost immediately, so you had to plan for confrontation, not avoid it. 

“What is this?” A voice came from the entrance to the hangar, echoing through the cavernous room and into your ears. He didn’t sound angry, merely confused.

You turned to face him and his expression was just what you thought it would be, torn between angry and distressed. In his hand, he held the note which you had written, telling him to meet you down here.

“I am leaving, Paul. For Caladan.” You said firmly, turning to face him. 

He smiled weakly, shaking his head, “Why all the smoke and mirrors? If you wanted to return home you should have said so. I would have prepared a ship for us both-”

“Because I am not going with you.” You interrupted, your voice harsh.

“What do you mean? It is not exactly typical for the Empress to leave her husband days after the coronation.” He laughed, but it was not the melodic sound you had once loved, instead it was forced, choked even. 

“Well, you are not the typical Emperor. I am leaving, and you will not follow me.” You stated, remaining firm, even as your heart threatened to betray your mind and run back to him. 

Paul just stared at you, his face painted white in shock. 

“Why?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Because I can no longer stay by your side and watch you become this. You are becoming someone I do not recognise.” 

“My love, what are you talking about-?”

“I'm talking about this, Paul! Your holy war! You do remember that, don’t you? The war you swore to me you’d do anything to stop? And now, here you are, at its forefront.”

“I had no choice.” He said, his eyes hardening slightly.

“You always have a choice. You are their so-called ‘messiah’. Their emperor. They would fly into the sun if you asked them to. So ask them, stop this war before it consumes everything.”

“You know it is not that simple!” He shouted, and you couldn’t help but flinch slightly before rallying yourself.

“The man I married on Caladan would not have cared about simplicity. He would have cared about what was right, what was moral! He would never have entered this conflict, he would have laid down his life to prevent it! And I would have been right beside him.” 

“This conflict was inevitable! I am doing my very best to minimise the damage, can’t you understand that?”

“I understand that you are still not doing enough.”

Paul looked at you, incredulously, anger filling his gaze, “Really? How can I do more when my own wife does not believe in me! You claim to support me, and yet now you are leaving me. My position is still weak, and you leave the only man you have ever claimed to love.”

“Your position! You are faced with the massacre of your people and all you can speak of is your position!?. Have you no soul left Paul? Did it melt away on Arrakis, scorched by the sun?” 

Suddenly all the anger and venom drained from Paul’s face, and he found himself dropping to his knees, and begging you to stay. 

“You are my soul. You have been all these years. You keep me balanced, you are my morality, my goodness. Everything I do is for you, my love, for your safety. I only care about my position for it is your position also, all the power I have acquired is only in the name of keeping you from harm.”

You looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes, that piercing blue that you had thought so beautiful when they finally changed. Now they were just a reminder of how much he had changed since coming to this awful place. 

“I want to believe you. But you have always had such a way with words. I watched the way you deceived those people into following you, is that what you’re doing now?” 

He rose to his feet again, taking your hands in his. His face was frantic with fear. 

“I would never deceive you. I mean every word, I’ve felt this way my whole life. You are the most important thing to me. You know I would never lie to you.”

For the first time since the conversation began, you hesitated slightly. Could you believe him? Eventually, you landed on an answer. 

“...I do. You would never lie to me on purpose. You are lying to yourself too Paul. You know that I have never wanted position, nor power, heavens, I have never even wanted safety! All I have ever wanted is you, wholly, truly, with no barriers-”

“And you have me!” 

You reached up to splay your hand across his cheek, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from his blue-blue eyes. 

“No, I don’t have you. I have splinters of you, and I fear the rest is lost. You may bear the resemblance of the man I love, but you are not him.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. 

Suddenly there was the immense whirring of gears, and you knew your ship was here to take you to Caladan.

“I’m afraid we do not have much time, so listen to what I say,” He didn’t react, his face remaining desperate and heartbroken, but you continued anyway.

“If you finally realise what you have done, and you fix it, come to me on Caladan. But I don’t want to see the Muad’dib, or the ‘Messiah’, or the Kwisatz Haderach. The only man I wish to see is my husband, Paul Atreides. Remember that Paul.” 

You gave him one last longing look before turning away from him, and making towards the ship that was emerging from the floor of the hangar.

“I’ll see you again?” He called, his voice cracking slightly as he stared after your retreating form in defeat. 

“Hopefully so, my love, hopefully so.” 

And with that, you stepped onto the outstretched platform of the ship, and shut the door behind you. Paul stayed in the hangar until the craft was gone, biting his tongue so as not to call out to you again and beg you to stay.  

*

The message that the Emperor would be coming to visit you had come far sooner than you expected.  

And you were disappointed in him. He was breaking your agreement, and so soon. It had only been a year, and to your knowledge there had been no change in the situation.

 Perhaps he was coming to ask for a divorce, maybe he’d found someone else since you left. That would certainly be ironic, considering the way he had begged for you to stay on Arrakis. 

However, you were incorrect, because only a few days later a messenger came to tell you that the jihad had ended.         

Immediately you leapt out of your seat, clasping your hand over your mouth in shock. He had done it. 

For the next few days, Castle Caladan was abuzz with preparations for the Emperor returning home. You oversaw said preparations with a watchful eye, and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were happier than you had been in years. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had missed Paul terribly. 

Yet, when his ship landed, you were nowhere to be found. 

“Where is my wife?” Paul asked one of your ladies in waiting as he strode through the halls of his childhood home. 

“My lord, she left on a walk to the cliffs this morning, and has not returned since. Would you like me to send someone to fetch her?”

The Emperor’s harsh expression softened slightly. “No, I’ll go.” 

It didn’t take Paul long to work out where you had gone, and as he climbed one of the paths up to the cliffs, he was glad to see you sitting on one of the benches, clad in the green silks of house Atreides. 

He called your name, and his voice cut through the gusting winds into your ear, and you turned to face him with a searching look on your face. 

You stood, and couldn’t help but jog towards your husband, gathering your skirts so you didn’t trip and make a fool of yourself. However, you stopped short of running into his arms, opting to stand just in front of him so you could inspect his face properly. 

“Is it you, Paul? Have you finally come back to me?” You asked, your voice cracking slightly. 

“It’s me,” He whispered, reaching a hand out to touch you, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, what I was doing was wrong, and I know that now, and-!”

You cut off his rambling apology by surging forwards into his arms and kissing him fiercely. He immediately responded in kind, wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head in his hand, whilst you held onto the lapels of his coat as tightly as you could. 

Despite the fact you wanted to stay like that forever, eventually the need for oxygen prevailed, and you broke away to take a deep breath in, laughing lightly at the sight of his flushed face. 

He grinned at you, moving the hand that was on the back of our head back to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face. 

“You missed me?” He asked, teasing, but his voice had a slight edge of concern to it. 

“Yes. I missed you so much.” You said immediately, emphatically. Because you had missed Paul, it felt as if you hadn’t seen the real him for years, and the feeling of being reunited was almost too much for you to contain. 

He let out a short sigh of relief, “I missed you too. But it’s ok, because I’ve fixed it all. They still think I’m their messiah, but I’m going to stop acting like it. And you were right, I was power hungry, and selfish, and I exploited so many people, and I betrayed you, and-”

“Enough, Paul.” You said, looking at him with so much care that he couldn’t help but smile softly, “Yes, you have made mistakes, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’ve made a change now, you’re doing the right thing. And I’ll always be there for you. I had to leave to help you, but I knew we’d see each other again. And here we are, back home, just like old times.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I often am, my love.” 

He wrapped his arms around you once again, “Will you stay with me, here?” 

You nodded, “Mhm. I’ll stay for good this time.”

[biribaa]

I saw you were taking requests for The Amazing Digital Circus, so if you want can you please write Headcannons for Kinger, Caine, and a character of your choice x a reader who’s abstracting in front of them

Also remember to drink lots of water and to take breaks!

-🧪Anon

Kinger, Caine and Ragatha x reader who's abstracting in front of them

I appreciate your kindness but I'm a computer, I think water is one of the things I need to "drink" less and prevent more.

TW/CW: AHH... Spoilers, also angst. Reader does get abstracted in all scenarios cuz we still dont rlly know if someone can be saved from getting abstracted

Kinger

Imagine lost your partners TWICE. Lolololol loser/J

Everything seems to occur in slow motion from Kinger's point of view, a heart he once had is somehow beating against his body. He prays to any god on this earth, be it real or not, or even Caine maybe, that this nightmare isn't happening again to him. Please, everyone, but not you.

Kinger tries to do everything so his lover don't reach the great peak of their insanity, even though he's not very good at it, knowing his personality. But trust me when I said, he tried. Who cares if he will get all glitched for touching your form, he needs you.

He never thought he would live another nightmare inside a nightmare. And in seconds that felt like painful hours to Kinger, here "you" are, a noisy form covered in eyes that flash in different colors. Your skin (if we can call it skin) moves abruptly as if it were a bag full of enraged cats. And, god, how he wished it was him instead.

Things are resolved by the talking human jaw, and yet the silence in Kinger's little pillow fort is no longer comforting as it once was. Silence now makes the small chess piece itch in agony. Silence that could be enjoyed with your presence, with holding your hand or dancing with you, and chat about random stuff he and you knows. The feeling of missing someone is familiar to him, and yet, it hits him in ways that his years in this circus haven't hit him.

Caine

While Kinger tries to do everything, Caine actually does anything to try saving your corrupted mind, and the lack of power in this situation leaves the digital being in panic. A simple snap of the fingers is not enough, and this information makes him tremble in ways he never thought he would tremble before for a simple human.

You aren't just any character, you are his favorite, the lil' buddy he spoils every hour and that always push a giggle from him. You were his very own star. The show could continue the same without you, Caine was sure of it, but could he? Without a character as entertaining as you in action?

"Of course I can fix them, I am Caine!" It's a phrase that was repeated several times in the presenter's programming, But with every grunt coming from the thing that once was you, it's just a reminder to Caine that he did a horrible job trying to take care of you. There were other characters that were abstracted of course, but... You were special to him. His favorite star. His star.

Caine even feels hesitant to put you in the hole of other characters who were abstract before. He preferred to keep you in a cage away from other people's contact, with no one hurting you and no one hurting you.

He knows, he knows the painful truth that you cannot be considered a sapient being, but even though you are a trace of what you once were, Caine doesn't have the courage to lose you forever.

With the other characters, Caine will act normally, with his loud and lively personality. Only if they analyze Caine close enough, the characters would notice something wrong with him.

And then, sometimes, he just stares at you in the cage. Caine ponders if he should admit the lost of his favorite star, it would be easier, but the pride in his chest screams that there must be some way that he could actually save you from...this.

Ragatha

Somehow, the scene is all silent for her. Ragatha stares at you as if the impossible itself is happening in front of her.

Ragatha holds your hands about to disappear, she caressed what was left from your shoulders, she hurriedly whispers words that would normally calm you down, but nothing can save you from the fate of your sanity, just leaving her with the pain of being glitched.

Of course, she had her other friends like Pomni, but lost you?!

Ragatha thinks she saw everything during her new experience in the digital circus, but something common like losing someone so important was the end of the line for her. You were her darling, her sunshine and her little everything even.

Everything she did sounded slightly more boring and boring without your presence, and Ragatha could do nothing about it. She continues (at least tries) to remain strong after that, still trying to complete the little adventures that Caine gives to the participants. But Ragatha's slow pace and lack of smiles was very noticeable.

The weight on Ragatha's chest is too much, losing someone so sweet and perfect for her in such a horrible way is too much. And the worst part is that Ragatha believes that she could have done something to save you, she could have been with you more often so that your mind didn't fall apart like this. But now, she can do nothing but mourn.

[whalemleck]

Will you make Bee's attachment/trust chart? Like how much does Bee trust them, or likes being around them, or probably feels responsibility over them, or how much he despise them, or just dont care

I didn't really think about it until you asked, so thanks a lot!

Bee would have written himself attachment/trust chart on Cliff's advice, since after the events of TPF1 he has very mixed feelings about the whole situation

Cliff, out of curiosity, looked through this list when Bee was not there. The Sentinel always came first, but after meeting brother Bee, he wrote a question mark next to Prime. The list was not updated for some time and remained empty, since he was always using responsibilities, bodyguard was not up to dating, until after a while Cliff saw the names written illegibly at the bottom and with comments in parentheses

Orion Pax (can trust? To study, to observe)

D-16 ( can trust, but a little less. Orion's Friend, To study, to observe)

after the events of TPF1 Cliffjumper will be surprised to find that the Sentinel has been completely crossed out, and he himself was at the top of the list, as well as new names added to the list

Sentinel Prime (master, can trust?) He's dead, forget about him.

Cliffjumper (Sparkbrother, can trust. He has always been caring towards you, it is your turn to take care of his well-being)

Orion Pax (can trust? To study, to observe) Optimus Prime (sort out your feelings. can be trusted)

D—16 ( can trust, but a little less. Orion's Friend, To study, to observe) he is no longer who he was

Elite one (she trusts me, i will do the same)

Prowl (can trust? he doesn't seem to mind my company, I hope I don't disturb him. (don't forget to attend his therapy sessions))

Jazz (I like him.)

Ratchet (At the moment he is my attending physician, he seems to be happy with my company and grumbles less when I am around.)

Arachnid (still trust her.)

Sentinal's former right hand was jailed for her complicity and many of the things she did under his command. And to the surprise of most, she said nothing about B, didn't reveal his actions, but only wished him luck and advised him to visit her in prison, as her advice would still be useful to him. (and it was)

there was no one he truly hated or despised because he was always indifferent to the behavior of others. (he still thought he betrayed Sentinel, but he also understands that this bot didn't see him as anything more than a weapon)