#everyone wondered where he disappeared to

[cosmicalily]

"baby, you can have it" - a jeongin oneshot by @cosmicalily

"an inch away from more than just friends, touch me, baby, put your lips on mine." - 'naked in manhattan' by chappell roan

author's note: another situation where i normally gatekeep the fuck out of my queer anthems (in the context of writing non-wlw fics for them), but the whole 'an inch away from more than just friends' felt SO relevant in the context of this oneshot. go stream 'the rise and fall of a midwest princess'. go listen to 'casual' and cry. it's good for you!

warnings: nudity, suggestive (the most that occurs is a makeout, nothing more)

You hadn't been able to stop yourself.

Why couldn't you have just remained a normal friend, his best friend?

Why were you spending hours, analysing the simplest things that he did, things that made your heart flutter, scream, and slingshot all the way to the moon and back? Spin around Saturn, melt through the heat of the sun and settle back in your chest, a mess of thoughts and emotions, innocent and otherwise.

The way he ate the strawberry liquorice he loved so much; his pink tongue pointed and sticking out occasionally to brush his lower lip as he savoured the candy.

The way he'd drag you home with him almost each night after school, hand you a cherry cola, and you'd spend hours playing video games and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Jisung would join you, but those evenings you got Jeongin all to yourself were something you treasured. And sometimes, those nights would end with more than just you kissing him on the cheek goodbye. Some mornings, you’d wake up, sprawled across his chest, the ghost of his lips on your neck, and the aching feeling of missing something. The feeling that even if he held your hand all the way to school, where you’d enter class together and apologise in unison for being late, he could slip away oh so easily.

The way he had made a habit of sketching little stars in a blue ballpoint pen around the few freckles that dotted your arm.

You looked down at your skin. There were still faded sketches dotting your arm, blue ink melting into your skin. Ghosts of the drawings he’d done yesterday; slowly disappearing but still very much so there.

Of course there were other girls. Girls who’d message him day after day, ask for his Snapchat, stick post-it notes onto his locker and cling to his arm in the hallway.

He tried not to pay too much attention to them; the occasional smile and ‘hey’, not to be rude, not to be unkind, but never responding to their affection, to their endless babble.

Jeongin was made to be a high school crush. He had bleached hair with the slightest hint of pink to it, sharp, fox-like features, contrasting wildly with his soft, dimpled cheeks, frequently flushed with a peach tinge.

You sometimes wondered why he gave you the time of day. Jeongin, although he wasn’t necessarily the most popular guy, was known across your grade and even the years above. He was older than almost everyone in the year level; an early birthday had originally granted him a move up to twelfth grade, but he’d opted against it. His friends were all in the year above, and whilst he still sometimes sat with them at break times, he’d decided to go for you.

“He hardly sits with us anymore,” Jisung mumbled to you, after Jeongin had passed out on the couch, head in your lap, arms around your waist. 

“I know. I keep asking him why. He says he sees you guys enough.”

Jisung looked down at Jeongin’s babyish expression as he slept, face pressed against your stomach. “Or he’s in love with you,” Jisung had reasoned, ruffling your hair and giving Jeongin’s arm a pinch before leaving.

You’d looked down at the pile of Jeongin lying before you; sleepy, clingy and oh so angelic. His features looked softer in the dim light, and his eyelashes fluttered every few seconds.

Every soft breath against your stomach made your heart swell, and you wished, just for a moment, that he’d say it out loud. Admit to it. 

There were times where you were almost certain. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent. Catching him staring at you from your vanity mirror as you did your eyeliner, his hands slipping around your waist as you sat on the bathroom counter bleaching his hair, the soft kisses to your cheek that he’d offer you when you were crying.

That wasn’t platonic, was it? It couldn’t be.

You looked down at your arms, admiring the faded stars again. There was one in particular, a little larger than the rest. It wasn’t really a star anymore. His hand must have slipped. You craned your neck a little closer, getting a better look at the smudge of blue ink.

A heart.

You breathed out a little, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open.

You stroked his hair softly, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but he sat up, looking into your eyes. 

You felt so overwhelmed by him, but in the most beautiful way possible. By his sparkling eyes and his sweet face, the soft scent of his skin, and finally,

His lips on yours.

The way they moved in harmony, the way his tongue slipped in gently, not dominating your mouth, but exploring it. Curiously, like he wanted to get to know the parts of you that he hadn’t been able to. The parts that exceeded the confines of platonic love.

His hands were on your cheeks, your shoulders, your hips, your waist, gentle, fluid movements that sent shivers down your spine. There was a calm desperation about his actions, a need to search for more, to find another patch of skin he hadn’t seen or ran his fingers across yet. 

And when the two of you broke apart in a daze, chests heaving, sweat glossing over your skin, he hooked his fingers through the straps of your camisole, looking at you intently and giving you a moment to protest. When you nodded eagerly, he pulled off your tank top with one movement, one hand on the fabric, the other smoothing your hair to avoid it getting tangled. But once it was off, he didn’t grope or squeeze or touch.

Not that he would've without making sure you wanted it, even if he felt sure. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent wasn't one hundred, after all. He wanted you to be sure, because he was sure. And he was sure as hell that he didn't want to hurt you, not when he had you like this.

Not when you struggled to keep your lovedrunk eyes open, exhaustion creeping through your veins.

So he laid your body down to rest on the sofa, chest-down, and pulled a blue-ink ballpoint pen from his back pocket.

“That tickles,” you giggled, squirming a little as Jeongin settled himself behind you and began drawing on your bare skin.

“I wanna give you all the stars, baby,” he mumbled, sketching. His fingers were hot but the metal tip of the pen was cool on your back. The patterns he traced and the galaxies he formed were soothing and repetitive, and you felt yourself drifting off.

And when you woke up, he was beside you, limbs wrapped around yours, lips pressed against your neck.

A faded imprint of the ink stars on your arms stamped onto his skin.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx - comment, dm or send an ask to be added!

[nxrcissablacks]

thinking about a fangs of fortune modern day law firm au where:

zhao yuanzhou is That Law Firm partner - yes, the one who has been there since the beginning of time and no one knows how or when he joined the firm; he just is a fixture, and who:

disappears mysteriously from his office on occasion (bai jiu, in hysterics: “But I really need him to sign off on this document right now!!!!!!”)

closes cases with suspicious methods (zhao yuanzhou, blinking innocently: “Yes, I just had a little coffee with him and he agreed to settle for a million. Isn’t that nice?” wen xiao, wondering innately if coffee is code for something else: “…yes…”)

has a never-ending rotation of nice, ridiculously expensive suits. even zhuo yichen can’t beat him on this front, and the only one who comes remotely close is li lun (more on this later)

was rumoured to be work-rivals with zhuo yichen’s brother right up to his untimely death. the streets say that zhao yuanzhou deliberately played a card on the last case they worked on together that caused the company they were going after to send hired hitman after them both (the reality was really that even zhao yuanzhou did not expect something so extreme as becoming the target of murderous assassins, and that card was unfortunately a trump card that Needed to be used). zhao yuanzhou survived but zhuo yixuan did not.

has a complicated relationship with zhuo yichen as a result - constantly saves his ass even though zhuo yichen does not need saving thank you very much - takes the hits for him when things go wrong, and feels constantly as though he owes him (zhao yuanzhou, drunk: “hey bro you wanna stab me or something? Just offering.” zhuo yichen: “is that an innuendo? No. And stop calling me bro. The fuck.”)

zhuo yichen as his constantly exasperated counterpart:

worked diligently and was known as a stellar associate before getting promoted to partner on his brother’s unfortunate death - feels rather pressured to live up to his brother’s legacy and do him proud

claims to detest zhao yuanzhou and blames him for causing his brother’s death BUT the secretaries will not stop telling people about the time they saw “Mr Zhuo went into Mr Zhao’s office and draped a blanket over Mr Zhao’s sleeping form!!!!!” - zhuo yichen repeatedly denies this occurrence and zhao yuanzhou doesn’t suggest otherwise; the blanket in question is, however, neatly folded in a drawer in zhao yuanzhou’s office

deep down, he has already forgiven zhao yuanzhou - ever the studious lawyer, he went over the case files from that deal and realised he would have made the same call as zhao yuanzhou, and he guessed his brother would likely have done the same.

never declines a call from zhao yuanzhou to go out drinking even though he makes a lot of grouchy sounds because Someone has to put the man in a taxi home before his self destructive tendencies get the better of him and that Someone is unfortunately zhuo yichen (taxi driver: “you should wake your husband. We’re here.” zhuo yichen, flustered and trying to get zhao yuanzhou’s heavy ass head off his shoulder: “he’s Not my husband.”)

li lun as the barrister whom zhao yuanzhou insists on using on all his cases (zhao yuanzhou: “bc he’s the best, dude”) but who zhao yuanzhou refuses to email or communicate with on pain of death, so zhuo yichen has to send all the emails and have awkward little meetings going through cases with him:

ruthless af in court and tears everyone to shreds (including the judge on occasion)

encyclopaedic knowledge of law rivals zhao yuanzhou

collection of expensive suits ALSO rivals zhao yuanzhou (wen xiao, appreciatively, every time li lun walks into a meeting room in the firm: that man is a dick but he sure has Taste)

his superior taste includes, much to zhuo yichen’s horror: zhao yuanzhou (zhuo yichen, wishing he could dig his eyes out and run them under water: “wen xiao, zhao yuanzhou swanned past the meeting room we were in and i swear to God. li lun was undressing him with his eyes. and then he turned to me and said, i kid you not: seems like zhao yuanzhou’s been spending some time in the gym. i can see his chest muscles have gotten bigger since the last time we met.” wen xiao, having had the downlow from zhao yuanzhou about his complicated on and off situationship with li lun: “mm hm.” zhuo yichen, moaning with his head in hands: “and once he tried to show me a folder on his laptop but clicked on another by mistakes. and it was just filled with files labelled ZYZ1 ZYZ2 ZYZ3 and so on. They were IMAGE FILES, wen xiao!!! IMAGE FILES!!!! PNGS!!!! wen xiao, mentally making a note to blackmail zhao yuanzhou about the existence of those images: “yeah.”)

was the sole reason zhao yuanzhou didn’t get murdered along with zhuo yixuan in the while hired hitman saga (wen xiao: “but why did he have a gun.” zhao yuanzhou, shrugging: “the only time li lun’s into following the law is when he’s in court. other times, less so.”)

Also featuring:

wen xiao and pei sijing as the two senior counsels (pei sijing, when asked why she declined partnership: “ew, why would anyone want a role in partnership, that’s for losers who actually like networking”) who think no one knows that they are in a relationship (yinglei: “they have couple mugs. and i know they are couple mugs because i saw wen-jiejie happily point at them in Soho Home and pei-jiejie immediately put them in her shopping basket.”)

yinglei and baijiu as the baby trainees who are there just to watch the office drama unfold and give each other unnecessary stress about deadlines (baijiu: “what do you mean this was due on the fifth. That’s yesterday’s date.” yinglei: “fuck.” baijiu: “fuck.”)

[demonic0angel]

Spectra discovers the misery factory that is Gotham. Everybody has a bad time.

(Will just be focusing on Anger Management for this ask, but this is a VERY fun ask lmao, I love angst/comfort)

Red Hood tried not to let the tears fall as he firmly kept his finger on the trigger.

“I’m not scared of you,” he gritted out.

Spectra laughed. “Maybe not. But I know someone you’re scared of. You’re scared of Wolf, aren’t you? You’re scared that she won’t like what she sees when she finds the true you. Your worries certainly have merit. After all, who can expect someone like her, brilliant, beautiful, powerful, to like someone like you? Someone who can never understand her, someone who is as disgusting and damaged and weak as you.”

“I-I—!!” His hands trembled and the gun nearly slipped.

Spectra smirked and prowled closer. “You’re nothing compared to her. My apprentice was raised into excellence by me. She’ll know. She’ll know that someone like you is beneath her. Someone who doesn’t even deserve to touch her feet. After all, who would like someone like you, who died in such a pathetic way?”

Red Hood inhaled, trying to clear the spots in his vision as the tears persisted. “I’m not pathetic! I got to where I am with my own strength and will! I crawled out of my own grave! I am—!”

“You’re nothing,” Spectra hissed, her eyes flashing. “You’re nothing but a spineless, cold-blooded murderer who begs his daddy for love. No one mourned you. No one cared for you. You were replaced like nothing because you are nothing. The Lazarus pits have healed you, wiped away your outer scars, but the inner ugliness still remain, don’t they? No one will love you. Not your siblings, not your father, not Wolf. You are an unloveable, forgettable trash who should’ve died on the streets.”

A voice interrupted her, but Red Hood was completely and utterly hyperventilating already.

“Spectra. Enough.”

Red Hood froze in his place, shivering like an abandoned dog as Wolf strode across the roof towards them. He bit down on his lower lip, stifling a whimper as the gun dropped from his hands. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve done everyone a favor and—

Wolf shot a strange bullet at Spectra, who disappeared with a hateful scream. Red Hood could not see through his tears, fogging the inside of his helmet and as everything began to close around him, like the coffin that used to hold him in his death, he tore it all off like he had done before at the age of 15, weak and helpless and mindless. He whimpered and whined and clawed at the mask on his eyes, wanting it off, off, off—

Hands gripped his wrists and Jason reared back with a sob. Everything felt wrong, like his skin was keeping him caged and the air of Gotham City was too cold and he felt boiling hot like shame and embarrassment and Wolf was looking at him through her helmet. She let go of one wrist and for a moment, Jason wondered if she had truly thought that he was disgusting, when she reached for his face and gingerly held his cheek in one gloved hand.

The gentle touch immediately pulled him away from his thoughts.

His breath hitched and he blinked away hot tears, closing his eyes as he just focused on her touch. She let go of the other hand and then pulled him into a hug, cradling him and for a moment, Jason wished he was 15 again, undamaged, innocent, and clean, untouched by death and murder.

But for now, he just held tightly onto Wolf and sobbed as she murmured sweet nothings into his ears only.

“Shhh… it’s okay. Nothing she said was true. I promise you, I’ll stay by your side no matter what. Shhh, it’s alright, you’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay…”

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson x American Horror Story: Asylum)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. Unable to convince anyone that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is locked up in an asylum. But the only way out is to prove to his psychiatrist that he is not insane. If he fails to convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. He must hurry to do so, because Vecna has returned to finish the bloody unfinished business and take revenge.

As Eddie fights for his life, how far can his psyhiatrist go to save him when she finds out he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because of Eddie's innocence, but because they have developed feelings for each other over time. In the midst of all this confusion, a series of secret experiments on patients in the mental hospital and a series of dark secrets make everything more difficult.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of execution, Execution, Death, Mental Health Issues, Asylum, Mental Hospital, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobia, Prison, Doctor/Patient, Serial Killers, Hospitals, Pain, Depression, Violence, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, death of a family member, Nudity, Smut, Sex, Slow Burn, Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, TraumaPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Disorders, Smoking.

Before you read:)

This fan fiction is inspired by American Horror Story: Asylum. It contains a lot of horror and thriller content. Since the story takes place in a mental hospital, there may be various triggers. Please check the tags first as there is a lot of violence, sexuality and depression contents. This story is for adults, so close the page if you are a minor.

Please let me know if there are any tags I forgot to add. read on ao3

Dr. Oliver Owsen was deeply interested in what Arthur had been doing. In short, he was searching for someone named Ginny. After checking all the hospitals, he had come here as a last resort. One of the reasons that brought him here was that Dr. Arthur had also worked at the last hospital where Ginny was seen—at least, that’s what Violet had learned. 

Who was Ginny? How did Oliver know her? Why was he looking for her? Frankly, Violet didn’t care much. The only thing she cared about was that she was tired of all the dirty dealings in this hospital always going unpunished. Someone needed to expose everything happening in this place.

Apparently, Violet no longer had the authority or power to do that. But she could help someone who did—namely, Dr. Oliver Owsen.

After finishing her therapy session with Oliver, she glanced over at Eddie, who was whispering but speaking heatedly with someone in the corner. Because of his fluffy curly hair and tall stature, she couldn’t see who he was talking to.

She went over to John and Max and gestured toward them with her head. “What’s going on over there?”

John rolled his eyes and sighed. “Our only ticket out of here just flew out the window. The guys who were supposed to get us out have now come inside. ”

Violet frowned. “Steve is here?” John sighed again in frustration and threw himself onto the couch. “Steve and his buddy. Now we have two more people we need to keep safe.”

Violet wondered what they were talking about. Eddie’s anxious appearance was fueling the growing fear inside her. When the door to the common room opened, everyone turned their heads in that direction. Prosecutor Robert Hills had finally graced them with his presence.

As Violet tried to predict his next moves, she noticed Eddie clenching his fists and shooting hateful glares at Robert. The tension escalated as Robert approached; Eddie looked like a tiger waiting to pounce.

Robert, however, walked calmly as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t turned their lives into hell. Without looking at anyone, he went directly to Max, extended his hand, and introduced himself.

“Hello, Max, I’m Robert Hills, the prosecutor in the Eddie Munson case,” he said with a fake smile. “We’ve actually met before, but at that time, you had just come out of a coma. I understand you want to update your statement. The necessary procedures have been completed for your release. Come to my office, and we’ll update your statement. Afterward, you’ll be able to leave this place by the afternoon.”

When Max looked nervously at Violet, she nodded in approval. At least someone would get out of here.

After Max left, Eddie, Steve, and a blond young man approached Violet. When the young man extended his hand, Violet shook it and learned that his name was Jonathan.

“We need to make a plan with you. But not here. Where’s the safest place?” Eddie asked, quickly darting his eyes around at everyone. Steve and Jonathan shrugged and looked at each other. “They haven’t given us a room yet,” Steve replied. Violet raised her hand and said, “Max is staying in my room. She could return from Robert’s office at any moment.” Eddie put his hands on his hips and turned to John. John, somehow, had produced a chocolate bar and was eating it. With his mouth full, he looked at each of them in turn and said indifferently, “What?”

John’s single room looked like a five-star hotel suite to Violet. While the double rooms gave off the impression of a mousetrap, this one felt relatively spacious. Jonathan had brought a chair from the common room and was sitting with his feet propped against the headboard of the bed. Steve sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. John had sprawled across the bed so much that Eddie and Violet were forced to squeeze into one corner of it.

Eddie smiled and patted his knee twice—a wordless way of saying, “Come on.” Violet smiled back, got up, and sat on Eddie’s leg. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she rested her head against his soft hair. Eddie’s scent and warmth created a brief wave of calm within her.

John pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. “So, you want me to burn a little girl now, is that it?” he said, examining the lighter closely.

Jonathan replied, “Not burn her, just bring the flame close. If she gets scared, we can figure out if Vecna has taken her or if he’s still inside her.” John rolled his eyes and said mockingly, “ Of course she’d get scared, genius. Everyone’s afraid of fire.” Then, suddenly, he thrust the lighter toward Jonathan. Jonathan toppled off his chair, and Eddie’s giggling filled the room. Violet, sitting in Eddie’s lap, couldn’t help but chuckle as she felt the vibration of his laughter.

Steve said, “It’s not logical to burn her, but we could touch her with something heated by the lighter,” his face thoughtful.

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “You do realize we’re talking about a person, right?” he asked.

John added dramatically, “Also, I don’t want to go down in history as an arsonist. I don’t want to be the first person people think of when they hear the word ‘fire.’ ”

Violet bit her lip, smiling. “I think you’re a bit late for that.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Eddie said, “Something keeps poking me. Dude, your bed is so uncomfortable.” He looked annoyed. John smirked slyly, and Eddie gave him a suspicious look. “What are you up to?” he asked.

When Eddie lifted the cushion on the bed, the pile of junk food, cigarettes, and cassette tapes underneath. Eddie turned to Violet with a mocking expression. “And we thought the real spy was Robert. Turns out the real sneaky one was right next to us all along,” he said.

Folding her arms across her chest, Violet asked, “How did you even get all this stuff in here?”

John put on an innocent expression, pursing his lips and raising his hands. “If you had a brother working here, you’d also have someone bringing you whatever you wanted,” he said.

Suddenly, Steve stood up excitedly. “This brother of yours… Can he smuggle anything in?” he asked.

Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, smirking. “I don’t think he can smuggle in what you’re thinking about, dude,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

Steve stared at Eddie for a few seconds, then raised his hands. “No, you idiot. I’m not talking about what you think,” he said.

As Eddie burst into laughter, Violet realized his joy came from being surrounded by his friends. Even in the midst of all this chaos, Eddie’s happiness was contagious. He was like a bond that brought his friends together. Somehow, even in these tough times, being with them gave Eddie a small sense of peace.

John asked, “Hey Steve, what do you need? What’s on your mind?”

Steve said, “If your brother can smuggle in a heater or something similar, Violet could say she’s cold in her cell and turn it on. That way, we wouldn’t have to burn Max, and we could still learn if she’s sensitive to heat.”

John threw himself onto the bed with a disappointed look on his face. “Brendon can only smuggle things as big as what he can fit in his pocket,” he said.

Eddie added, “And even if he did smuggle in a heater like you said, we don’t have sockets in our rooms.”

Jonathan turned his chair backward and leaned his head against the backrest. “Besides, Max is leaving in a few hours. So this plan wouldn’t work,” he said.

“Maybe you could’ve just asked,” said a sudden voice.

Everyone turned to see Max standing at the door. She rolled her eyes, walked toward them, and took the lighter from John’s hand. She lit the flame and brought her hand close to it, almost touching it. She didn’t react at all and then shrugged as she looked at them.

“I mean, there are five of you, but if I added all your brains together, it wouldn’t equal Nancy’s.”

As Violet looked on curiously, wondering who Nancy was, the others all nodded in unison. The three of them moved so in sync, it was like watching the three wise monkeys.

Max clenched her fist and held it out toward Eddie. Eddie mirrored her gesture and bumped fists with her.

Max continued, “I changed my statement about you, Eddie. The prosecutor said you might be able to get out of here in a day or two. Oh, and he’s waiting for you in his office now. As for me, I’m leaving. This madness is too much, even for me and even they call me MAD MAX.”

She finished her sentence with a laugh, but as she smiled, her eyes filled with tears. She hugged Eddie tightly.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Eddie. You’re the big brother I never had but always wanted. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I love you.”

It was clear that Eddie was struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. He hugged Max back in return.

Violet silently made a wish: I hope it happens as she said. I hope Eddie gets out of here.

Eddie opened the door to the prosecutor’s office and stepped inside. He hadn’t bothered to knock, not even out of courtesy. He went straight to the chair and sat down. Prosecutor Robert was organizing files with the male nurse standing beside him. This nurse was the same jerk who had taken Eddie to his cell on his first day at the mental hospital.

Robert picked up a piece of paper, held it up in the air, and shook it noticeably. “Do you know what this is, Edward? ” he asked. “Eddie,” Eddie replied calmly. He hated being called Edward.

Robert continued, “This is your ticket out of here, Edward. It’s the petition Max wrote, saying you’re innocent. I could send it right now, this very minute, and you’d be a free man tomorrow.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was headed. “But?” he asked tersely.

Robert stood up and began speaking as he gazed out the window. “But your girlfriend and your friend will stay here. I don’t think you’ll ever see them again.”

He then picked up a blank sheet of paper and placed a pen from his pocket onto the desk. “If you write here that you take full responsibility for everything and claim that Max wrote the petition out of fear, then maybe I’ll give a statement saying you’re insane. That way, you, your girlfriend, and your friend can live happily here forever.”

Eddie crossed his arms and spoke with determination, “No. I’m getting out of here. Then I’ll take Violet and John with me. And there’s no way you’re going to make me do this.”

Robert leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk as he fixed his serious gaze on Eddie. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. Edward, if you don’t write what I’ve told you, you’ll be the only one responsible for what happens next,” he said in a threatening tone.

Eddie gritted his teeth. “What are you going to do? Rat us out again, you Snitch Snitchson?” he shot back.

Robert responded with a filthy grin. “How about we give your girlfriend a nice volt of electricity right in front of your eyes, Edward? Will you still keep up this defiance then?”

When Eddie walked out of Robert's office, his hands were trembling. The prosecutor had given him two days to think, but there was nothing Eddie needed to think about. He would never allow Violet to be electrocuted.

But he didn’t trust Robert either. If he wrote the statement taking responsibility for the crimes, he was told he’d be deemed insane and allowed to stay there. But what if it was a lie? What if Robert took that statement and used it as evidence?

In that case, Eddie would be doomed, and Violet would never get out of here. He felt like a rat cornered in a trap.

He walked into the common room and looked for Steve and Jonathan. However, none of his friends were there. His eyes landed on Brendon, who was trying to get an old woman to drink soup.

Eddie approached him and asked, “Where’s John? Violet? Or the other two idiots?”

Brendon paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the wall. “John’s in his cell. I don’t know where the two idiots are. I think they went to beg Manager Wilson to let them share the same cell. As for Violet, I last saw her with Doctor Oliver,” he said.

Eddie’s already frayed nerves worsened. He didn’t like Oliver at all; there was something off about that man, he thought. Deciding that John was the easiest person to locate, he headed toward the cells. Just as he reached the hall, he saw John walking toward him, grinning.

“Dude, you won’t believe what happened,” John was saying.

The only thought running through Eddie’s mind was: Wait until you hear mine, John.

John’s gaze turned to Eddie with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Eddie was about to start talking when he saw Steve and Jonathan approaching from a distance. He gathered all three of them and led them to the cafeteria. Since no food was served at this hour, the place was quiet. Once everyone sat around the table, Eddie explained the blackmail Robert had used against him.

Steve suddenly stood up and started pacing around the table. His tension was evident in every movement. “Dude, you can’t write that statement. It’s obviously a trap. He’s going to take that paper from you and have you executed. The guy’s too smart,” he said. John, however, responded with a hesitant expression, “But if you don’t write it, they’ll torture Violet.” Jonathan, trying to lighten the weight of the situation, said, “Do you think Vecna’s inside this Robert guy?”

Eddie frowned as he spoke. “Could be. The guy has this grudge against me that I can’t figure out. Anyone would think I killed all his loved ones.” Steve sat back down and took a deep breath. “So, what are we going to do?” he asked. Jonathan followed with a question that hung in the air. “Do we have to escape again?”

Eddie shook his head as he answered. “We can’t escape. Oliver told Violet that all the patients in Ward C have been moved. I’m sure they’ve locked the doors too. We’re stuck here.” Steve, searching for a glimmer of hope, said, “Max got out. They’ll help us once they realize we haven’t left.” But Eddie still had doubts. “What if it’s too late?”

At that moment, everyone at the table seemed to focus their attention on the door. When Eddie looked, he saw Violet and Oliver walking toward them. Rolling his eyes, he muttered in a jealous tone, “One day, I’m going to land a good punch on that Oliver.”

When Violet reached them, she sat next to Eddie and took his hand. Oliver, on the other hand, started shaking everyone’s hands one by one. When he reached Eddie, Eddie only touched his hand lightly and responded with a fake smile.

Violet spoke with a serious expression on her face. “Oliver has something to tell you.” Eddie turned his head as if uninterested, but curiosity was growing inside him.

Oliver began to speak. “I know about the experiments and filth that Arthur has done. And I know he values those experiments too much to destroy them all at once. Those patients are somewhere in this hospital right now. I know that. And I’m sure, after your escape plan, he’s no longer keeping those files in the manager’s office. He must be keeping them in his own operating room. I’ve tried to get in there, but unfortunately, I’ve failed. No one can enter there except the assistant he keeps by his side.”

Eddie’s voice broke the silence in the room. “I’ve been inside,” he said.

Everyone turned to look at him. John had his head down, staring at his shoes, as if he already knew the answer. “When they gave me the electric shocks... I was in his operating room,” Eddie added. John raised his head slightly and spoke. “There’s only one way to get in there, and I can tell you it’s going to hurt.” Oliver slammed the table in frustration. “Great. Just great. So how are we supposed to get in?” Eddie fixed his gaze on Oliver. “Why do you even want to help us? What’s in it for you?” This question made Violet squeeze Eddie’s hand, but Eddie’s mind was elsewhere. He could understand John—he had followed Arthur this far and ended up stuck here. Violet was in trouble because she wanted to help Eddie. And Eddie himself had become a target after uncovering Arthur’s experiments. But what was Oliver’s motivation?

Oliver pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, his eyes turning to Violet. “He’s not the first doctor to fall in love with his patient,” he said. Eddie was confused. Was he in love with Violet? He opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver, realizing the misunderstanding, raised his hand to stop him. “No, not Violet. Ginny. I fell in love with her. She was transferred to another hospital at the time. I planned to follow her to wherever she went. But I couldn’t find her anywhere I went. It was like she had disappeared. There was no record of her anywhere. At the last hospital she was seen in, there were reports of other missing cases. Guess who the doctor there was?”

John, clenching his teeth, answered, “Arthur.” That single word revealed the weight of John’s guilt.

Jonathan, processing Oliver’s words, asked, “So, one of the patients in Ward C that he’s experimenting on could be Ginny?” Oliver shrugged as if to say he didn’t know, but his expression showed he thought it was possible.

Steve voiced his thoughts aloud. “Since we can’t just go up to the guy and say, ‘Hey, experiment on us too,’ or, ‘Go ahead and fry us like potatoes...’” John paused for a moment and looked into Eddie’s eyes. Then he turned to Violet.

Eddie shook his head in refusal. Jonathan and Steve understood the situation, but Oliver and Violet were looking at them with curiosity.

Violet, unable to bear it any longer, asked, “What’s going on here?” Steve turned to Eddie, about to say something. “Robert made Eddie an offer…” he began, but Eddie kicked him under the table. Steve groaned in pain. Violet suddenly stood up, crossing her arms, and spoke in a stern voice. “ I said, what is going on here?”

Eddie realized he had no choice but to tell the truth. With a sigh, he stood up, placed his hands on Violet's head, gently pulled her closer, and looked into her eyes. "Robert said he’d declare me insane in court if I wrote a letter confessing to all the crimes. And if I don’t... he said he’d torture you," he said.

Violet frowned as she looked at Eddie. "You didn’t agree to write the letter, did you?" she asked.

Eddie’s voice trembled, and he struggled to find the words. "How could I not? Violet... If they touch you, I’d die. I can’t let that happen," he said.

Violet stepped back, her expression revealing her anger. "If you write that letter, Eddie, you silly, the first thing Robert will do is drag you out of here and take you to court. You have a chance to escape, Eddie. Nobody else here does, but you do. You will never write that letter," she snapped.

She stepped forward, placing her hands on Eddie's face. Eddie put his hands on hers in return. Tears were streaming down Violet’s cheeks. Eddie’s eyes were also filling with tears. "You will never write that letter, Eddie. Promise me," Violet said, her voice trembling.

Eddie found it hard to respond to her insistence. "Violet..." was all he could say. "Promise me!" Violet shouted, tears streaming down faster.

Eddie pulled Violet close and rested her head against his chest. He held her tightly as sobs echoed through the room, placing his head to stop hers. For a moment, silence enveloped them both.

Oliver broke the moment. "Actually..." he said, as though a new idea had just occurred to him.

Everyone turned to look at him. His expression suggested he had figured something out.

John intervened quietly, "This could be really dangerous."

Oliver continued to explain his plan. "Just five minutes is enough. Less than five minutes, even."

Eddie and the others tried to grasp what he was suggesting. John, however, seemed to have already figured it out. Still, the group turned their expectant gazes toward Oliver, waiting for clarification.

Oliver elaborated. "When they take Violet into that operating room, you’ll go into the operating room too, Eddie. Isn’t that right? They’ll make you watch as they torture her. The door will be open. There’ll be staff. There’ll be doctors, nurses. It’ll be a crowded room, and while everyone is focused on the girl being tortured, no one will notice someone rifling through cabinets and drawers."

Steve interjected, " Someone who works there..."

Jonathan picked up the thought, "Like Brendon. "

Eddie raised his hand in frustration and let out a hysterical laugh. "Do you realize what you’re planning?" he said, his voice full of anger.

Violet turned to Eddie and said resolutely, "Let’s do it."

Eddie shot Violet a sharp look, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her angrily. "Violet. I will never allow such a thing. Never," he said.

As Eddie’s anger made his breaths heavy, his thoughts echoed in his mind. He wouldn’t watch them torture her. Not for five minutes, not even for a second. The plan was to steal the files while everyone was distracted with Violet. But for Eddie, this was unacceptable. If he were the one lying on that table, he would do it willingly. He had done it before, and just remembering the pain made his whole body tremble. But for Violet, never.

"What if the files aren’t where you think they are?" Eddie asked, his voice a mix of anger and worry. "What if someone notices you before you even get there? And let’s say you get the files. Then what happens to Violet?"

Violet took Eddie’s trembling hand and brought it to her lips. Her gesture was meant to both calm him and provide comfort in this difficult situation.

John stood up and came over to Eddie. Trying to encourage him, he spoke softly, "Do you remember the song you sang to Violet, Eddie?"

Everyone was looking at Eddie with sad expressions. However, expecting him to agree to this plan didn’t seem very fair. The anger and helplessness within Eddie were written all over his face. John continued speaking.

“You've got to lose to know how to win,” he said. It was a quote from the song Dream On that Eddie had once told Violet.

“We won’t let anything happen to Violet. We all love her so much. But we have no other choice. If they send you to your death, then how do you plan to protect Violet when you’re dead? Don’t rely on me; I’m the arsonist. Remember? After you, I’ll be the first one they come for.”

Oliver spoke, trying to calm the situation. “We’ll be quick. We promise,” he said.

Violet looked into Eddie’s eyes with a deep expression. “Can we talk for a moment?” she asked. She took Eddie by the arm and pulled him a little further away from the others. Eddie was struggling to control his emotions. If he weren’t so ashamed, he would have collapsed to the floor in sobs. Violet’s determination, however, was hidden behind the tears in her eyes.

“I can endure five minutes,” Violet said. The determination in her voice made Eddie feel even more helpless.

“I know the dose they give. I know this torture they used to do in the past. As long as they don’t exceed a certain dose, I can endure it. When I confronted Wilson about it, he said they only give the ‘legally permitted’ dose. That makes it 100 volts. Five minutes won’t cause severe trauma to my body. I’ll just recover slower than you did. Maybe by then, we’ll be free.”

Eddie gritted his teeth as he looked at Violet. “No matter what I say, you won’t back down, will you?” he asked.

Violet slowly shook her head to indicate no. Her decision was final. Eddie realized that she would proceed with this dangerous plan with or without him. If it was going to happen, at least he had to be by her side.

Together, they returned to the others. The group, looking at them with curious eyes, was impatient to learn what their decision was. Eddie carefully raised his finger and pointed at each of them one by one.

“If anything happens to her, it’s on you. I will never forgive you,” he said. His face was serious and threatening. These words created a slight sense of relief within the group, but the fear was still evident in their eyes.

Oliver finalized the plan and distributed tasks. “Go and tell Robert that you’ve rejected his offer. John, you go and inform Brendon. When they take Violet, we’ll be ready. As soon as we get the files, you tell Robert you’ll write the statement he wants. When they take Violet to the infirmary, we’ll get you all out of here. But we can’t all fit in one car.”

Violet smiled. This smile lightened the tension in the room, even if just a little. “My car is still parked outside. I’m sure the keys are in the guesthouse. You get the keys, and we’ll find someone to drive,” she said.

Steve raised his hand and volunteered. “I’ll drive.”

When Eddie told Robert that he was rejecting his offer, the expression of shock on Robert's face said it all. He had been completely sure his plan would work, but seeing Eddie refuse the offer made it inevitable that he would become suspicious. In response, Eddie, thinking that Robert might already be suspecting something, bluffed, “You wouldn’t dare anyway.” But deep down, he knew Robert would.

In the dim light of the room, Eddie held Violet tightly. Today could be the day. They had to understand that sometimes you have to lose to win. His eyes had been brimming with tears since the morning, and now they were starting to burn. As the memories of what he had experienced in this room before came rushing back, he began to tremble.

When they started laying Violet down on that stretcher, he questioned how he had been convinced to go along with such a stupid plan.

He tried to stand up and go to Violet, but the guards immediately moved to grab him by the arms and forced him back into the chair. His attempts to intervene were futile. As they began smearing that gelatinous, sticky substance on Violet’s forehead, the helplessness inside him grew.

“Stop! I’ll write the statement! Wait! Don’t do this! Don’t touch her!” he shouted.

Violet looked at him and gave him a pained smile, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She slowly shook her head, signaling no. At that moment, Eddie froze. Was this all part of a plan?

The door opened, and Brendon entered the room. His icy blue eyes met Eddie’s, and he shook his head no. Eddie wondered why Brendon wasn’t rummaging through the cabinets and hurrying to find the files. His mind was in chaos… but deep down, he knew the truth.

Violet had planned everything, solely to prevent Eddie from writing that statement and taking the blame. There were no files to be found, and no one was coming to retrieve those stupid files.

Eddie was furious with himself for even thinking that the files might still be there. Those men had probably already fed them to the shredder.

Violet had warned the others to stop Eddie from surrendering himself and ending up in the electric chair. She had orchestrated this as a way to sacrifice herself to save him. And now, Eddie was forced to watch her suffer.

He struggled against the chair, but three men held him down tightly, making it impossible to move. The tears streaming down his face blurred his vision.

Robert walked around to stand behind Eddie, placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and forced his head to stay fixed on Violet. Leaning down, he mockingly whispered in Eddie’s ear, “I hope your freedom is worth this, Munson.”

Eddie tried to turn his head, but no matter what he did, it was useless. His movements were completely ineffective. Arthur stuffed a cloth resembling a gag into Violet’s mouth.

“Try not to scream too much,” he said before putting on his gloves.

Eddie was overwhelmed with unbearable helplessness. His voice had gone hoarse from screaming, and now all he could do was plead in faint whispers. Arthur turned to the nurse beside him and calmly gave instructions.

“Let’s start with 150 volts.”

“Please stop!” Eddie screamed. Manager Wilson and several guards had also entered the room, making it so crowded that it was difficult to move. Three guards held Eddie down firmly, while Robert kept his head fixed on Violet. Two nurses were holding Violet down on the bed.

Violet’s hands and feet were tightly strapped to the bed. One of the nurses was waiting to check her pulse, while the other was ensuring Violet didn’t move too much during the electroshock. The nurse picked up the electroshock device next to the machine and handed it to Arthur.

Everyone in the room watched in fear, wondering if Arthur would really go through with it. As Arthur prepared the shock device, a nun entered the room and stood by Violet’s bedside. “May God forgive your sins,” she whispered to Violet.

Violet’s fear-filled eyes were testing Eddie’s limits. Eddie was crying so much he could no longer speak. With all the strength he had left, he begged Robert.

“I’ll write whatever you want. I’ll sign anything you ask. Kill me right now. Please, kill me. I’m begging you, kill me but don’t let them touch her!”

Eddie glanced at Brendon, hoping he might help somehow, but Brendon was just standing there, frozen in fear, waiting for what was about to happen. At this point, only God could help them.

Dr. Arthur positioned the shock device on Violet’s head. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, then took a deep breath.

Arthur turned to Eddie and yelled angrily, “Shut him up, or I’ll increase the voltage!”

Robert grabbed one of the cloths from the nearby table and shoved it harshly into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s screams echoed throughout the room. Even God seemed to have abandoned them.

When Arthur pressed the button on the control panel, one of the nurses holding Violet checked the pulse in her neck. The other glanced at her watch while gripping Violet’s arm tightly. The nun standing at the head of the bed tried to steady the part of the electroshock device touching Violet’s head. The electricity was so strong that the lights on the ceiling dimmed and flickered constantly. Eddie’s guttural, animal-like cries grew more muffled.

Arthur spoke without taking his eyes off the device. “Let’s make it 200 volts.”

Brendon stepped forward and shouted angrily, “Are you insane?! You’re going to kill her!”

Arthur ignored Brendon’s words as if they were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly. He continued turning the dial on the machine to increase the voltage. One of the nurses holding Violet shouted in a panicked voice, “Her pulse is racing! She can’t take it!”

Violet’s initial screams had turned into gasps and choking sounds, as though she were struggling to breathe. Her entire body convulsed uncontrollably. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her entire body trembled, down to every strand of hair. Meanwhile, Eddie was writhing in helpless desperation, the nails of those restraining him digging into his skin.

Suddenly, Robert exclaimed, “What the hell is that? For Christ’s sake…” Everyone turned their heads to follow Robert’s gaze. The nun had momentarily pulled the electroshock device away from Violet’s head.

Violet continued to convulse. The electricity coursing through her body caused her muscles and joints to seize involuntarily.

At first, Eddie thought everyone was staring at him. But when Robert slowly removed his hands from Eddie’s head and stepped back, Eddie lifted his head and followed Robert’s gaze. Looking at the door, Eddie realized that everyone in the room was staring in fear at the same spot.

It all happened in an instant. When Eddie looked in that direction, he nearly fell off his chair in terror. The nurse standing next to Brendon was slowly rising into the air. Her pupils had turned completely white, and she appeared to be in a trance. Eddie had seen this sight before. Three times, to be exact: with Chrissy, Jason’s friend Patrick, and Violet.

It was him. Vecna was here.

As everyone ran toward the nurse now floating near the ceiling, Arthur, Wilson, and Robert seemed frozen in shock, rooted to the spot. Eddie’s thoughts were clear: He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t a killer. The proof was here, alive, for everyone to see. Now everyone would know that Eddie hadn’t made all this up and that everything he’d said was true.

When the nurse’s right arm suddenly snapped, everyone in the room started to scatter in panic. Female nurses and nuns were screaming at the top of their lungs. Eddie began crawling on the floor, trying to make his way toward Violet’s bed. He didn’t care about the kicks and stomps from the frantic people running past him. He couldn’t control his hands or feet out of sheer terror. His brain had shut down, and his movements were reduced to instinctive thrashing. Finally, he reached the stretcher where Violet lay.

Brendon suddenly appeared, running toward him. He grabbed Eddie by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Without saying a word, Brendon began dragging him toward the door. Eddie, bewildered, protested.

“Wait! What are you doing?! I have to get Violet!” he shouted.

Brendon angrily grabbed Eddie by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door. “Go save yourself! Go! I’ll take care of her!” he said firmly.

Eddie tried to re-enter the room, but just then, he saw the lightbulb inside explode. Screams echoed in the darkness. Someone else inside had been taken, now a victim of Vecna.

At the end of the corridor, Steve and Jonathan appeared. They ran toward Eddie and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him away. Eddie resisted with all his might, but when he tried to speak, he felt the pain in his throat. As he saw Brendon rushing back inside, everything became blurry. His vision darkened, and silence enveloped him.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized they were driving through rows of trees. His head was resting against the window, and they were in a car. As his vision cleared, his eyes focused on the sign by the roadside, "Welcome to Hawkins!"

Eddie suddenly straightened up, causing Jonathan, who had been dozing in the seat next to him, to wake up and look at him. “Hey... You’re awake. Are you okay?” Jonathan asked softly.

Eddie realized he was in the back seat. When he looked ahead, he saw Hopper in the driver’s seat and Steve next to him. Both were looking back at him with curious expressions. A frustrated smile spread across Eddie’s face.

“Am I okay?! What am I doing here, huh?! Take me back to the hospital right now!” he yelled angrily.

Jonathan explained in a calm voice, “Your innocence was proven, Eddie. The judge saw Max’s statement. Plus, Manager Wilson signed off this morning saying you’re not insane. Right now, the culprit, ‘Henry,’ is being hunted everywhere. If they can catch him. You’re free now.”

Eddie clenched his teeth and said in an icy voice, “Stop the car.” Hopper kept driving. Eddie shouted louder this time, “I said stop the car!” Hopper slammed the brakes, and the car came to an abrupt halt. Eddie opened the door and started walking away without looking back.

Steve ran after him, trying to catch up. “Eddie! How do you plan to get to Michigan from here?! On foot?!” he asked, concerned.

Eddie stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and asked without turning around, “Is Violet dead, Steve?”

Steve stayed silent for a while. The expression on his face made it clear he was trying to avoid answering. Eventually, he turned around, looked at the others, and scratched the back of his neck.

Eddie shouted angrily, “Do you expect me to leave her and John there and come here to start my ‘new life’? If they’re still in there and I’m out, it’s my fault! How could you leave without them?!”

Hopper approached him calmly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Our priority was getting you out, son,” he said in a serious tone.

Eddie took a step back, causing Hopper’s hand to fall from his shoulder. He raised his hands to his head, nearly pulling at his hair. “Take me back there. I need to get them out. I have to save them,” he said. He was trying to speak angrily, but his voice sounded like that of a desperate victim pleading for their life.

This time, Jonathan stepped forward and spoke to Eddie. “Eddie, it was Violet and John who made us promise to get you out of there safely and bring you here. No matter the cost, we swore. They want you to move on with your life.”

Eddie quickly approached Jonathan and shoved him. Jonathan looked surprised but didn’t retaliate. Eddie continued angrily, “Isn’t Nancy your girlfriend? If the same thing happened to her, would you leave her there and move on with your life?”

He stepped aside and then moved toward Steve, shoving him too. “What if it were Robin in there? Isn’t she the sister you never had? Would you leave her there and start a new life?” he said, his voice trembling.

Eddie’s eyes filled with tears as he added, “You might love me, but if I survived in there, it’s because of them. Do you understand what you’re asking of me now?”

Hopper took a deep breath, removed his hat, and held it tightly in his hands. He was trying to find the right words. “Son, even if you went back there right now, they wouldn’t let you see them. We need a plan. Right now, you’re the only witness who knows what’s happening there. We can’t let them take you back inside. We have to think logically,” he said firmly.

Eddie, trying to believe but still hopeless, asked, “How?”

Hopper shrugged and replied, “We’ll get a search warrant. You’ll tell the national media everything that happened there. We’ll shut that disgusting place down for good, and no one will ever go near it again. But we can’t do it this way. Even the worst plan is better than no plan. You can’t just go back there on a whim.”

When Hopper gestured toward the car with his head, Eddie turned back to Jonathan and looked him in the eyes. “Is Violet dead?” he asked.

Steve chose to speak this time. He bit his lip and answered with pain in his voice. “She’s not dead. But it can’t be said that she’s alive either. They practically fried her brain. Filthy bastards,” he said angrily. Eddie, trying to stay calm, walked toward the car. About half an hour later, they reached the town center. But just then, a large crowd began running toward the car. Eddie, trying to figure out what was happening, glanced at the others in the car. They were just as confused as Eddie. When Hopper stopped the car, Eddie slowly got out.

This crowd consisted of the people of Hawkins. Dustin was at the forefront. He ran to Eddie and hugged him, and then the other kids followed, wrapping themselves around him. Max, on the other hand, stood at a distance, looking at Eddie with an embarrassed expression. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she stood silently.

Max spoke with a trembling voice. “They told you what I did to you… I’m so sorry…” Eddie felt the moment, surrounded by the kids. Struggling, he reached out his hand toward Max. When he made a slight nod, as if to say, “Come on,” Max hesitated no longer and ran to him, hugging him tightly as well. Eddie realized how much he had missed them. These kids were his family. Since his uncle’s death, they had never left him alone. Then, he turned to the crowd waiting ahead. After letting go of the kids, he walked into the midst of the crowd. The expression on everyone’s face was the same: guilt. A deathly silence prevailed. Eddie began looking at the banners they held and read each one out loud, in a clear voice. “We’re so sorry, Eddie.”“We’re so happy you’re back home.”“We knew you were innocent.”“We’re sorry.” As he read each banner, Eddie burst into more hysterical laughter. Eventually, his laughter ceased, and he placed his hands on his hips, giving the crowd a stern look.

“You can take your apologies and shove them up your ass,” he said, as parents hurriedly tried to cover their children’s ears. Eddie stepped closer to them and continued, his voice filled with anger. “Why are you covering their ears? You let them hear the disgusting stories you told about me, didn’t you?” he said, his voice trembling with rage and pain. Eddie looked into each person’s face. He stepped toward the crowd and raised his voice. “A week ago, the same people who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if they saw me on the street are now looking me in the face and apologizing, is that it?” he said. The fury in his words pierced through the silence like a knife. He took another step and his tone grew louder. “You’re the same people who didn’t believe me when I said I was innocent, the ones who collected signatures to send me to the electric chair without a trial. Do you realize that?” Hopper, leaning against his car with his hat in hand, watched the scene unfold. Those surrounding Eddie followed his every move, curious about what he would do next. Eddie walked toward the banners in people’s hands. He grabbed them one by one and threw them to the ground. Then he turned to Hopper and asked for his lighter. Hopper silently handed it over. Eddie bent down and lit one of the banners. The fire quickly spread to the others. Eddie stood in front of the burning banners and raised his voice even more. “Because of the music I listen to, the clothes I wear, the hair on my head, because I wasn’t one of you, you've targeted me. Because that’s what you are. You always judge a book by its cover. You called me a murderer, but while the real killer of those kids was out there, you wasted time chasing the wrong person, making you the true killers of lost time. You’re the reason my grieving uncle took his own life. These banners you wrote with your bloodstained hands have now ruined two more innocent lives. If only once… just once, you had chosen to believe me…” Eddie’s throat tightened; he couldn’t swallow. Steve and Robin quietly approached him, taking him by the arms. They tried to lead him away from the crowd. Eddie turned once more to look at the burning banners and the guilt-ridden faces staring back at him. The pain and anger inside him grew larger with each passing moment. This town owed him a youth. It owed him a graduation. It owed him a family.

They were finally sitting in Mike’s house, in the basement. They were waiting for a voice to come through the walkie-talkie placed in the middle of the table. Before leaving the hospital, Steve had left a walkie-talkie with Brendon. Somehow, when the lights went out and the doors were locked, John would be able to reach them through this walkie-talkie.

Eddie’s eyes kept glancing at the clock. He felt like time wasn’t moving. Back in Chassell, evening would fall quickly, and the doors would shut in no time. But here, in Hawkins, it was as if time had stopped. A voice came through the walkie-talkie, filling the room. “Is anyone there?” Eddie grabbed the walkie-talkie reflexively. “Oh my God... John, is that you?” he asked, his voice trembling with both hope and fear. John’s voice echoed through, cutting the static. “Thank God you’re okay, Ed!” Eddie’s voice was filled with desperation. “John. Please tell me. Is Violet okay?” The voice from the walkie-talkie went silent for a moment. The quiet made everyone in the room more impatient. Then John’s voice echoed again, slow and hesitant. “As okay as she can be.” Eddie’s voice wavered between hope and despair. “Can I talk to her? Please. Can Brendon take the walkie-talkie to her?” John remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a regretful tone. “I don’t think that’s possible, Eddie.” Eddie’s determination was evident in his voice. “We’ll come there tomorrow with a warrant. We’re going to get you out of there.” John took a deep breath, his voice full of sorrow. “Dr. Oliver submitted a petition to the board saying Violet had overcome a critical condition. They’re going to transfer her to another hospital.” Eddie quickly asked, his voice filled with concern, “Where?” John’s response was vague and helpless. “I don’t know, but you better hurry. Eddie, I hate to say this, but I don’t think there’s much left of Violet anymore.” Eddie’s face turned pale, and fear was evident in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. John spoke quickly to end the conversation. “I have to go. Manager Wilson has increased security. He’s terrified because of the things he saw related to Vecna. We’ll talk later, Eddie.” As the voice from the walkie-talkie faded, Eddie threw it onto a chair. He paced the room, consumed by anger and helplessness. “Damn it. I have to go there. I have to get in.” Dustin spoke, his face filled with worry and disbelief. “Eddie, have you lost your mind? We literally risked our lives to get you out of there. You just got out. Now you want to go back in?” Without thinking, Eddie ran to Eleven. He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Can you reach Violet? Please.” Eleven shrugged, her expression uncertain. “Do you have a photo or something that belongs to her?” Eddie paused for a moment, then shouted in frustration. “Damn it. No.” At that moment, Lucas suddenly spoke with excitement. “No, wait! We do!” Everyone turned their curious eyes to Lucas. He was quickly rummaging through the magazines and newspapers on the table. “Here it is!” he said, holding up a newspaper clipping and handing it to Eddie. Eddie stared at the clipping in his hands, focusing on the photo. It was taken the day they escaped from the hospital, after a car accident. The photo showed the crashed car, along with John, Eddie, and Violet. He read the text beneath the image silently, each word catching in his throat like a lump. “Two patients who escaped from a mental hospital and the hostage doctor they took with them were involved in a car accident. One of the patients and the young doctor died at the scene.” This report had been the trap set to admit Violet into the hospital as a patient, ensuring her family wouldn’t come after her. With trembling hands, he handed the newspaper to Eleven. He also took off the bandana from his head and gave it to her so she could blindfold herself. Silence filled the room. Everyone was waiting for Eleven to try reaching Violet. A few minutes later, Eleven pulled the bandana from her eyes and looked at Eddie. She slowly shook her head no. Max walked over to Eddie and hugged him. She gently wiped away the tear that had fallen from his eye. “Don’t be sad,” she said softly. “When I fell into a coma, El couldn’t reach me at first either. But now I’m here.”

Hopper placed the paper on Wilson’s desk and then slammed his fist onto the table. His face was taut with anger. “We have a warrant to search for Violet George. If I want, I’ll tear this place apart,” he said, his voice filled with determination. Wilson, however, didn’t back down. In a composed manner, he replied, “You can’t search for Violet. Because there’s no such person .” These words pushed Eddie over the edge. He strode quickly toward Wilson, but Steve immediately stepped in front of him to stop him. Eddie’s anger was written all over his face. Hopper fixed a hard stare on Wilson. “Wilson, are you not afraid of what’s coming your way?” he asked. Nodding toward Eddie, he added, “You’re really testing my limits not to let Eddie destroy you.” Wilson didn’t flinch. He responded coldly, “You can’t search for Violet because there’s no such person here. Yes, a temporary doctor was assigned to handle her case while Eddie was here. And that doctor died in a car accident. Try keeping up with the news.” Eddie took a furious step forward and shouted his question. “If she died in the accident, where’s her body? Where’s her grave?” Wilson replied with a mocking tone, “That information is only available to family members. And you’re not one of them, Mr. Munson.” Eddie’s hands were clenched into fists, trembling with rage. Hopper, however, took a deep breath and signaled with a nod for them to leave. Eddie couldn’t believe how quickly Hopper was giving up. He looked at him in shock, but Hopper’s face betrayed no emotion. Once they were outside the hospital, Eddie could no longer contain his anger and started shouting. “You said you’d get her out! I trusted you!” His voice was thick with both frustration and helplessness. Hopper calmly placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and said in a reassuring tone, “We need to get back in there. I mean you.” Then, with a faint smile, he added, “We’re going to bury these bastards in a septic tank, son.” Eddie paused, taken aback by Hopper’s resolve. Slowly, a smile returned to his face, and he nodded in agreement.

After dropping Eddie off in front of the hospital’s guesthouse, Hopper quickly drove away. He had mentioned a soldier friend of his, someone he spoke highly of. It was a name Eddie had heard before but had never met. This person was one of Hopper’s connections from Russia. Hopper had said they could help and even alert U.S. National Security. But while Hopper was handling his affairs, Eddie was determined to get back inside. The sky was slowly darkening, providing the perfect backdrop for another covert mission. Eddie noticed a tall figure approaching from the distance. It was clearly a man. Speaking to himself in a low voice, he thought, “I hope it’s Robert. So I can give that bastard what he deserves.” It wasn’t who he was expecting, but if Robert showed up, Eddie knew exactly what he would do to him. Anger burned like fire in Eddie’s veins. What Robert had done to them would not go unpunished. A list ran through his mind: Dr. Arthur, Manager Wilson, Prosecutor Robert... These were at the top of his target list. And then there was the nun who stood over Violet and gave her electroshock, and the male nurse who had walked with him when he first arrived at the hospital. All of their faces were etched into Eddie’s memory. He believed it was his duty to make these assholes pay, especially since the police seemed to be doing nothing. But Eddie couldn’t help asking himself: “Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough?” He had never been in a serious fight beyond high school scuffles with other teens. Yet he was convinced that these people didn’t deserve to breathe. Eddie wouldn’t let the fate of the past dictate his future. The things he once believed in had been lost under Vecna’s chains. But now there was no running. Only fighting.

When he realized the approaching person was Oliver, he stood up from the sidewalk where he had been sitting. The person he had been waiting for was finally in front of him. Oliver looked surprised when he saw Eddie. Quickly, he pushed his curly hair away from his eyes with his hands and took a step toward Eddie, extending his hand. “Eddie? What are you doing here? You left, I thought they saved you,” he said, his voice full of astonishment. Eddie gave a bittersweet smile. He wanted to show Oliver the determination in his eyes. “It would be better if we talked somewhere more private,” he said, and Oliver nodded, motioning for him to follow.

As they entered the guesthouse, Eddie took a long look at the door he believed once belonged to Violet’s room while climbing the stairs. He couldn’t think about anything but Violet. The regret inside him was growing. “I wish I had never dragged her into this,” he thought to himself. But what was done was done, and Eddie needed to find a way out of this chaos.

When Eddie and Oliver entered Oliver’s room in the guesthouse, Oliver threw the bag in his hand into a corner. He loosened his tie with his hand and took a deep breath. “What do you want to drink?” he asked, heading toward the fridge. Eddie, trying to maintain his composure, replied, “Something cold would be nice.” Oliver took two cans of soda from the fridge and handed one to Eddie. He sat on the opposite couch and opened his can. After a brief silence, he spoke. “You’re here to ask about Violet,” Oliver said, looking directly into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie hadn’t opened his soda yet. His eyes were filled with anger and despair. “Nobody’s telling me anything about her,” he said. “Oliver, you’re her doctor. I know you know something. And don’t think I’ve forgotten the dirty game you played with Violet. You tricked me! You let her sacrifice herself for me! But I still need you. Please, tell me, is she okay?”

Oliver placed the soda on the coffee table. He clasped his hands together and remained silent for a moment. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, “Eddie, the dose of electricity Violet received caused significant damage to her brain nerves. I don’t think she can even handle her most basic needs on her own right now. I don’t know when—or if—it will pass. I think she may have sustained permanent damage.” These words drove Eddie mad. “Do you think ?!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. His eyes were blazing with anger. “For God’s sake, did you study all those years to get that medical degree for nothing? Don’t you understand what’s happening to your patient? How is she?!” Oliver continued in a calm tone, unfazed by Eddie’s anger. “Eddie, mental illnesses are not like physical illnesses. When you have the flu, you get treated, we give you medicine, and tell you when you’ll recover. But we can’t predict when a virus growing in the mind will pass. I don’t know Violet’s condition, and I won’t be able to assess the extent of the damage for some time. She can’t even speak.”

Eddie turned to Oliver in horror. His eyes were filled with desperation. “I need to see her, Oliver. I’m begging you. Help me get in there,” he said, his voice both pleading and determined. Oliver took a deep breath and shook his head negatively. “The person you want to talk to isn’t an ordinary patient. And I can’t arrange a visit for you with a patient who is officially recorded as deceased. Wilson and the others are breathing down my neck. They’re just waiting for a chance to lock me up in blue clothes as well.” Eddie continued impatiently, “I didn’t ask you to arrange a visit for me. Get me in. As a patient. ”

Oliver raised his eyebrows in shock. He looked at Eddie as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You just got out of there, and you’ve already forgotten how you got out? If you go back in, you might never get out again. Are you insane?!” Eddie stared directly into Oliver’s eyes and replied, “If I were insane, would you admit me?” Oliver gave a faint smile. “I still wouldn’t, Eddie. We promised Violet… We would save you.”

Eddie angrily sat back down on the couch. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes burned with rage. “If one more person says that, the next one is getting punched. Enough already. Didn’t you come here looking for Ginny, Oliver? Aren’t you staying in this disgusting place because you think she’s here? Would you leave?” he asked, his voice rising in fury.

Oliver met Eddie’s words with a moment of silence. Instead of answering, he headed inside. A short while later, he returned with a pillow and a blanket in his hands. He tossed them onto Eddie. “Get some rest tonight. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow,” he said in a soft tone.

Eddie had been staying in Oliver's room at the same guesthouse for three weeks. During this time, they made a plan every day, but something always went wrong. Eddie needed to get inside; every second without news from Violet and John was growing heavier. Three weeks had passed, and he hadn’t heard anything about them. He had seen Brendon a few times from the window, but Oliver warned Eddie strictly not to make any contact with him. Oliver had mentioned that Violet’s condition had slightly improved, but it wasn’t enough for Eddie. He couldn’t even imagine how bad Violet’s state was. His patience was running thin.

Meanwhile, Hopper kept calling and asking if Eddie had gotten into the hospital yet. When Eddie turned off the stove after heating some canned food in the kitchen, he heard the door lock turn and stood up. When Oliver walked in, his face was filled with triumph. Eddie raised his eyebrows and looked at him curiously.

Oliver’s face was glowing with excitement. “It worked, Eddie!” he said enthusiastically. Eddie asked in surprise, “What? How?!”

Oliver continued smiling as he explained. “You’re going back to that hospital tomorrow.”

Eddie smiled and gestured toward the table with his head. Oliver excitedly rushed to the table and sat down. He pulled out a file from his bag and slid it in front of Eddie.

Eddie picked up the file and began to go through it. It was an application form. It belonged to a family from a farm in Detroit who had applied to the hospital, claiming their son was “possessed by the devil.”

Eddie looked at Oliver with confusion. Oliver smirked slightly and pointed. “Look at the child’s name and surname.” Eddie glanced at the corner of the file and read the name written there: Edward Francis Munson. A surprised smile appeared on his face. “All the Edward Munsons in the country must be nuts, I guess,” he said sarcastically.

Suddenly, a realization hit him, and he asked quickly, “Wait a second, are you going to get me inside pretending I’m this kid?” Oliver grinned and nodded. Eddie hesitated for a moment but couldn’t hold back his objection. “But what if the kid’s family comes in and asks about the application status? And everyone in that hospital knows me. They’ll know I’m not this kid. Wilson will never let me in.” Oliver spoke with confidence. “The kid’s family applied to several hospitals along with this one. And right now, one of them has already accepted them. We even had a document confirming their acceptance, but guess what—I ‘accidentally’ fed it to the shredder...”

Eddie was first shocked, then burst into laughter. “Alright, the family won’t come. How are you going to get me inside?” he asked. Oliver maintained eye contact with Eddie as he spoke decisively. “I’m a doctor, remember? If I submit a petition diagnosing you as ‘schizophrenic’ and get this file approved, once they realize there’s another Eddie, it will already be too late. They’ll think they’ve admitted another Eddie. And don’t forget—they’ve already issued death certificates for two living people. They’re aware of this. If they try to kick you out after admitting you, they’ll be in trouble because it’ll be revealed that they issued fake death certificates for you. So, Eddie, I’m asking you one last time. Do you really want to go in? Because you might never come back out.”

Eddie nodded without hesitation. “I accept the risk,” he said.

The next day, Eddie was waiting in front of the hospital doors. He ignored the curious glances from the staff passing by, merely raising his middle finger at them mockingly. At that moment, Oliver came running out of the hospital and approached Eddie. He motioned with his head that they needed to move. Eddie followed Oliver.

The pair headed toward the laundry room they had gone to the first time they entered the hospital. When they entered the laundry room, the same secretary, with the same indifferent attitude, gestured toward the section with clean clothes. Eddie removed his rings. As he started taking off the sleeveless denim jacket he wore over his leather jacket, the secretary was watching him closely. While taking off his t-shirt, he winked at the elderly secretary and headed to the section with clean clothes to put on the blue clothes.

After putting on the blue clothes he returned to Oliver, who was waiting by the door. “Can I go see Violet now?” he asked. Oliver shook his head. “First, we have another task. We’re going to the manager’s office,” he said. Eddie nodded in agreement. As they walked down the corridor, Eddie saw Brendon coming from the other direction. Brendon initially glanced at Eddie and turned his head away. But a second later, he froze and turned back to Eddie.

Brendon’s eyes widened as he recognized Eddie at the end of the corridor. He struggled to catch his breath as he spoke in astonishment. “Eddie?! You... This clothes... What are you doing here?!” Eddie smiled and responded calmly. “I’ll explain everything. Can you bring John and Violet to the common room? I’ll be there shortly.” Brendon, unsure how to respond to this unexpected request, nodded and quickly walked away. Eddie and Oliver had reached Manager Wilson’s office. With a sly grin on his face, Oliver knocked on the door and went inside. Eddie could hear the conversation inside clearly as he waited outside.

Wilson began speaking in an irritated tone. “What is it now, Oliver?” Then Arthur’s stern voice followed. “Didn’t we tell you not to come here unless it’s something important?” Oliver didn’t seem to take the situation seriously. He replied in a relaxed manner. “I want to introduce you to the patient you admitted today.” Wilson sounded exasperated. “Are we supposed to meet every patient we admit? Get out.” Oliver chuckled and added, “You’ll want to meet this one. Eddie, come on in.” Eddie pushed the door open and stepped inside. The expression that appeared on Wilson and Arthur’s faces was pure shock. Eddie watched this change with great delight. The satisfaction on his face was almost a challenge to the dismayed mood of those in front of him. Wilson quickly opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a file. He flipped through the pages so fast that they almost tore. Finally, he stood up and angrily pointed his finger at Oliver. "You... You played us, didn’t you? You tricked us. Do you think you’re very clever?" Oliver didn’t seem affected by Wilson’s threatening demeanor. He spoke calmly. "If you want, you can discharge Eddie right now. But that will lead to two outcomes. First, a public lawsuit will be filed against you for endangering public safety by releasing a potentially dangerous 'schizophrenic' patient without completing their treatment. Or Eddie will sue you after being discharged because you admitted the wrong person and kept someone innocent here. In short, Manager, you’ve stepped in it. You have no choice but to keep him here." Arthur, who had been quietly listening to Oliver, turned to Eddie with a conflicted expression. "You shouldn’t be here," he said. Wilson glared at Eddie with a displeased look, while Arthur stepped forward and began speaking in a threatening tone. "You think you’ve done something clever by coming here. Right now, you’re nothing more than a lamb that’s returned to the wolves’ den." Eddie, unfazed by the threat, replied. "Want to give it a try? This time, we won’t stay silent. We won’t let people like you torment people like us. By the time I’m done here, Arthur, they’ll strap you into a straitjacket and fry you." Arthur’s face reddened with anger at Eddie’s words, and he snapped back. "Do your worst, Munson." Eddie kept his composure and delivered one final remark. "Careful, or my worst might blow up somewhere inappropriate for you." Despite Arthur’s shocked expression, Eddie merely stared at him coldly. Oliver took Eddie by the arm and led him out of the room. Together, they walked toward the common room.

In the common room, Brendon and John were sitting on a couch. The moment John saw Eddie, he jumped up and quickly embraced him. Tears streamed down his face. "You’re an idiot, Eddie. You’re an idiot for coming back here," he murmured. Eddie hugged John tightly in return. His eyes were searching for someone else. John noticed that Eddie was looking for Violet, and his expression suddenly turned serious. Bowing his head slightly, he spoke. "I wanted to warn you before you see her, Eddie. I’m not sure if you can handle it. Actually, I asked Oliver to wait a few weeks before bringing you in. Seeing her in those first moments wouldn’t have done you any good. She’s a bit better now." Eddie interrupted John’s explanations, impatiently asking, "Where is she?" The lump in Eddie’s throat made it hard to breathe and swallow. John nodded toward Brendon. Brendon silently left the common room and returned a few minutes later, walking with someone holding onto his arm. Eddie froze for a moment when he saw that person. Was that... Violet? Violet was stumbling as she walked and struggling to stay upright. Her gaze was vacant and fearful as she glanced around. Even from a distance, it was clear her mind was in disarray. With each step, she looked at Brendon in fear. Brendon spoke softly, encouragingly, as if trying to reassure her. "It’s okay. We’re almost there." Eddie noticed the red scars on either side of Violet’s forehead. The wounds had scabbed over, and some areas had stitches. The sight made Eddie’s hands tremble. He couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes. Violet and Brendon had barely managed to cover a few steps in a minute because of Violet’s frightened and shaky movements. John watched Eddie’s face, waiting for his reaction. But Eddie didn’t know what to say. Violet was standing in front of him, but she wasn’t the Violet he knew. An indescribable fear filled him. Brendon walked over to Eddie and placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is her good state, buddy," he said. "At least she can form sentences. She couldn’t even swallow without help before." Brendon’s attempt to console him only deepened Eddie’s pain. When Violet finally reached Eddie, she still wasn’t lifting her head. Eddie gently held her face with his hands and raised it. "Violet?..." he said, his voice trembling. Violet looked into Eddie’s eyes, frightened. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Eddie, feeling like she might break if he touched her, slowly pulled his hands back. At the same time, Violet took a step back and hid behind John. Like a child embarrassed and hiding behind a parent, Violet peeked at Eddie from over John’s shoulder. Then she leaned into John’s ear and whispered. Her voice was soft but clear enough for Eddie to hear. Violet tilted her head toward John’s shoulder and whispered fearfully, "John... I don’t know him..." After those words, tears streamed uncontrollably down Eddie’s face. John bit his lip and grimaced, hugging Violet tightly. As Violet’s sobs grew louder, Eddie stopped trying to hold back his own tears. At that moment, Oliver moved to Eddie’s other side. "For now, she only trusts me and John," he said quietly. "She doesn’t recognize anyone else. We don’t know when she’ll come around or start remembering things." Eddie couldn’t find anything to say. The lump in his throat felt like a sharp blade, making it impossible to swallow. John looked into Eddie’s eyes and spoke firmly. "But that’s not our biggest problem," he said with determination. Eddie fixed his gaze on John. What could be worse than this?

Oliver pointed to someone sitting in the corner. At first, Eddie couldn’t recognize who it was. There was a familiar feeling, but the person had changed so much that it was hard to remember. He was clean-shaven, wearing blue clothes, and his haggard appearance made him nearly unrecognizable. But when Eddie looked closer, he realized. This was Prosecutor Robert Hills.

When Robert saw Eddie, he stood up. Eddie held his breath. Rage enveloped his entire body, and his vision seemed to darken with fury. There was only one person responsible for Violet’s condition, and that was Robert. Dr. Arthur might have strapped her to that bed and administered the electric shocks. Manager Wilson might have turned a blind eye or even supported it. But the one who started it all, the one who pulled the pin on the grenade, was Robert.

Eddie started walking quickly toward Robert. Robert took a step back at the sight of Eddie’s furious approach. He was taller than Eddie, but that didn’t matter to Eddie in the slightest. Just before landing his fist on Robert’s face, Eddie’s expression shifted into a cold smile.

With Eddie’s first punch, Robert was pushed back against the wall behind him. He tried to shield his face with his hands, so Eddie directed his next blows to his groin, stomach, and ribcage.

As the assault intensified, Brendon and Oliver rushed to intervene, grabbing Eddie’s arms. But Eddie didn’t stop; he began kicking Robert instead. Finally, Robert fell to the ground, curling into a fetal position to protect himself.

Oliver, furious, grabbed Eddie and shoved him forcefully. “Do you want to end up in a cell your first day here, Eddie?! Get a grip!” he yelled.

At that moment, Wilson and Arthur entered the room, probably having heard the commotion. They stood there with expressions of both concern and curiosity. When they saw Eddie, they exchanged a sly smile and simply watched the scene unfold.

Arthur spoke in a mocking tone, “So, you’ve seen the big surprise, I take it.”

Eddie shouted angrily, pointing toward Robert. “What is this asshole doing here?! Did you put him here so I’d kill him and become a murderer?!”

Wilson shrugged nonchalantly and replied, “Do whatever you want with him. We’re done. Just try not to make too much of a mess. Bloodstains are hard to clean.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Wilson and Arthur turned and left the room without the slightest concern. Meanwhile, Robert struggled to his feet, clutching his stomach. Slowly, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and took a deep breath.

Breaking the silence, Robert spoke in a pained tone. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it, Eddie. I don’t have much reason to live anyway.”

Eddie fixed his gaze on Robert and raised his voice. “Shut up. Don’t try to play the victim. I don’t feel a shred of pity for you, Robert. You deserve every bit of what’s happened to you.”

Robert lowered his head at Eddie’s harsh words. With a slight sigh, he said, “I can’t blame you for thinking that way. If you were in my shoes, maybe you’d understand.”

Eddie laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. You’re a disgusting piece of trash. We trusted you, and you threw us back in here. You’re going to rot here, Robert,” he hissed.

Robert replied calmly, “So will you. You’re no different from me now.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened further. As he lunged forward to attack again, Brendon quickly grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him back. “Can’t you see? He’s provoking you. They’ll really lock you up if you keep this up, Eddie. Let’s get out of here,” Brendon said, his voice carrying a clear warning.

Clenching his teeth, Eddie broke free from Brendon’s grip and turned away, heading toward where Violet was. Violet watched Eddie’s approach with fear. As he got closer, she retreated further, hiding behind John. Eddie tried to put on a soft and innocent smile. All he wanted was for Violet not to be afraid of him.

When Eddie reached out his hand, Violet locked eyes with him. Eddie spoke gently, “Hi, beautiful, I’m Eddie. Do you remember me?” he asked. Instead of answering, Violet looked over to the corner where Robert stood. Her gaze clearly revealed that she was now afraid of Eddie because of what he had done to Robert.

When Eddie saw that look, he bit his lip. Suppressing the wave of regret rising within him, he took another step closer and gently took Violet’s hands in his. “He’s a bad man,” he said, his voice trembling.

Then Eddie looked deeper into Violet’s eyes and continued, “I would never hurt you, Violet. I’d never let anything happen to you again. Never,” he whispered. The sincerity in his words seemed to slightly ease Violet’s apprehension. Instead of pulling her hands away, Violet held Eddie’s hands in return.

Eddie was sitting at the long and uncomfortable cafeteria table with John and the others. It had only been three days since Eddie returned to the hospital, and he had been waiting for news from Hopper ever since. Hopper claimed he was making arrangements, but whatever he was arranging, he needed to hurry. The hope inside Eddie was fading a little more with each passing day.

He looked at John sitting across from him. John was playing with his food, appearing distracted and lost in thought. Eddie turned his gaze from John to Violet sitting beside him. Violet was trying to eat, filling her spoon with soup and struggling with her shaky hand. But her wrists were so weak that the soup spilled all over her before she could even bring the spoon to her mouth.

Eddie picked up a napkin from the basket next to him and gently wiped Violet’s mouth. Then he placed his hand over Violet’s trembling one. Violet looked at Eddie with surprise.

“Hold on, sweetheart, let me help you,” Eddie said with a smile. He took Violet’s spoon and began helping her drink the soup.

John rubbed his face with his hands. Taking a deep breath, he grumbled, “How much longer is this going to go on? I can’t stand seeing her like this. We need her right now.”

Eddie set the spoon aside and raised his head slightly. “She’s in this state because of me,” he said, his voice breaking.

John sighed and looked at Eddie. “We’ve talked about this, Eddie. It was her choice. No matter what you did, she would have sacrificed herself anyway. For your freedom.”

Eddie replied sharply, “Freedom, for me, isn’t outside these walls. It’s wherever she is, John.”

John rolled his eyes and spoke in a sarcastic tone. “Dude, if you don’t get out of here, you’re not going to marry her and live happily ever after. You’ll either die from the filth here or the experiments. This place isn’t safe for anyone.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and chuckled lightly. “Speaking of filth, we could use a shower,” he said.

John nodded in agreement. Eddie continued, “I’ll take Violet to her room and be right back.”

When Eddie took Violet’s arm to support her, she clung tightly to him. She did this every time they were going somewhere. She held on so tightly that her nails dug into Eddie’s arm. She was afraid of everything and everyone, as if she had aged prematurely. Her memory was completely blank; she remembered nothing and no one. Eddie placed his hand over Violet’s and spoke softly.

“Baby, you’re cold,” he said. He took off his jacket and gently placed it over Violet’s shoulders. Then he leaned down and zipped it up.

Violet suddenly asked, “What day is it today?”

Eddie looked up at her, as if not understanding the question for a moment.

Violet continued with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, “Have I ever asked you this before?”

A smile spread across Eddie’s face. He stood up quickly, pulled Violet close, hugged her tightly, and stroked her hair while inhaling its scent. “Yes, my angel, you’ve asked me. Every day, you used to ask me. Do you remember?”

Violet nodded slightly in affirmation. She was beginning to remember. Eddie waited patiently. No matter how long it took, he believed Violet would get better. Even though Oliver had said Violet might regain some memories but would never be the same, Eddie didn’t want to believe it. Violet was his Violet.

After taking Violet to her room, Eddie went to the men’s bathroom. John had already filled the tub with hot water and gotten in. There was no privacy here; all the tubs were lined up side by side.

There were no curtains or stalls in the bathroom, as if the only way to prevent people from harming themselves was to leave everything open. But in this hellish place, where rapists and murderers roamed freely, was this truly the safest solution they could come up with? Lost in these thoughts, Eddie took off his clothes, threw them on the floor, and turned on the water in a tub.

He got into the tub, trying to relax. His eyes fell on John in the next tub. “Got a cigarette?” he asked, dunking his head underwater and wiping his face as he surfaced. John bent down, grabbed a cigarette, and tossed it to him. Eddie struck a match, lit his cigarette, and leaned against the edge of the tub, watching the smoke drift through the air as he sought a moment of peace.

John suddenly jolted and spoke. “Hey, someone’s coming.”

Eddie quickly flicked his cigarette to the floor. The room was already filled with steam from the hot water, so it was unlikely anyone would suspect the smoke. When Eddie saw that it was Robert who had entered, he sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. He would have to light another cigarette. Robert walked over, turned on the water, and sat on the edge of the tub as it filled, looking as if he hadn’t expected to find them there.

Eddie took a drag from his cigarette and spoke with a mocking expression. “What’s up, Robert? Here to wash away your sins?” he said, smirking slightly. Robert didn’t reply.

For three days, every time Eddie saw Robert, he made snide remarks, trying to provoke him. But no matter what Eddie did, Robert rarely reacted. Still, it was fun to mess with him like a cat playing with a mouse. Robert was terrified of Eddie, and Eddie enjoyed it.

John joined in with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Eddie. Even if Robert washed with all the water in the city, he still wouldn’t be clean. He’s got the blood of the innocent on him,” he said sarcastically.

Robert silently took off his blue shirt and looked at Eddie as he spoke. “You know, Eddie?” he said, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. Eddie looked at him with an indifferent expression. Robert continued in the same calm tone, “It doesn’t suit you to treat the only person who can help you like this.”

A look of anger spread across Eddie’s face. “Help me with what, exactly? You’re not capable of helping anyone but yourself. We’ve seen that once, and we’ve learned our lesson,” he said sharply.

Ignoring Eddie’s reaction, Robert replied, “I can heal Violet.”

With these words, Eddie slowly straightened from where he was. Holding onto both sides of the bathtub, he stood up. He grabbed the towel nearby and wrapped it around his waist. Water dripped from his hair and body, forming small puddles on the floor. As the sound of his wet footsteps echoed through the silent bathroom, he walked toward Robert. His eyes radiated sharp anger in response to the words he had just heard. "What did you say?" he asked harshly.

Robert rolled his eyes, ignoring Eddie's reaction. "You heard me," he said indifferently.

Meanwhile, John, observing the situation, burst into laughter. "A seasoned doctor can't do anything, but our little runt prosecutor is going to heal Violet? Really?" he said mockingly.

Robert tilted his head slightly and looked at John. "Do you honestly think that's my profession? A prosecutor?" he retorted.

Eddie took a deep breath and leaned against a bathtub, speaking with a disdainful expression. "You're right. Prosecutors are men of justice. The only thing you'd be fit for, Robert, is a circus freak," he said coldly.

Robert turned off the faucet filling the tub and replied in a calm tone, "Fine, if you don’t want my help, that’s your choice."

Eddie's expression hardened. "You're right, we don’t. Because there’s nothing you can do," he countered.

Robert stared at Eddie’s face for a moment before slowly stepping toward him. The distance between them was nearly gone. Eddie had to straighten up from where he was leaning. John, startled by the sudden movement, became alert. As a trained officer, he was ready for any threat and quickly stood up.

Robert extended his hand toward Eddie. As Eddie tried to figure out the meaning of this gesture, Robert turned his arm. Eddie froze in place as if rooted to the ground, staring at the tattoo on Robert’s wrist. He quickly looked over at John. John, who had approached with the towel still tied around his waist, was also looking at Robert’s extended hand.

John asked in astonishment, "003? What does that mean?"

Eddie’s voice was filled with mixed emotions. "You’re one of them… like Eleven," he said.

Robert nodded in confirmation. Eddie ran his hands over his face, muttering, "But… How? Why? What?"

Robert responded with a sly smile on his face. "You couldn’t even figure out where it was coming from, could you, Eddie? Why I was so determined to see you dead? Because he wanted it. Vecna. Henry, to be precise."

Eddie spoke as if the air had been knocked out of him. "You knew about Vecna all along. You knew about the murders. You knew everything. Even while we were running."

Robert nodded in acknowledgment of Eddie’s words.

Eddie’s gaze was fixed on Robert. The questions in his mind grew with every passing second. "I don’t understand. What are you doing here?" he asked.

Robert took a deep breath and answered with a composed expression. "I started working for Vecna, and we became… connected, in a way. If he dies, I die too. So I have to do whatever he wants. When I came here, my main goal was to have you executed. But then I realized something even Vecna didn’t know. Eddie, you’re not so different from me after all."

Eddie’s eyes narrowed further. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Robert continued, "You remember the day Violet was hooked up to the electroshock machine. Two people in the room went into a trance and died. You saw it, didn’t you?"

Unwillingly, Eddie nodded.

Robert’s words were chilling. "That wasn’t Vecna. It was you, " Robert said with conviction.

Eddie’s teeth clenched as he retorted angrily, "You’re lying."

Robert maintained his composure as if he had anticipated this reaction. "Believe me or don’t. Until that moment, even I didn’t understand. Because Vecna wasn’t there. I can feel him. I know where he is. He was definitely not there that day. And I wasn’t doing it either. Something like that requires great power, pain, and anger. And at that moment, you were the only one in the room with those feelings. You did it."

Eddie’s voice rose, filled with conflicting emotions. "I didn’t do anything! I… I don’t have any connection to Vecna! I’ve never even seen him alive!"

Robert stepped closer to Eddie and pointed to his side, where his kidneys were. "You don’t need to see him to be connected to him. The demobats bit you. Hive mind. You’re connected to him now. So Eddie, if Vecna gets hurt, if he dies, you’re connected to him. You’ll die too. You have powers you don’t even know about yet. And you don’t realize how dangerous you are."

Eddie’s eyes were burning with anger. "I don’t believe a single word you’re saying, Robert. Even if I assumed it was true, I would never serve him," he declared with determination.

Robert smirked mockingly and shrugged. "You don’t choose to serve him, idiot. He uses you whenever he wants. Since you were bitten, has he ever tried to come and hunt you down? Have you ever found yourself passed out without meaning to?" he asked.

John, overwhelmed by the conversation, raised both hands in the air. "Wait, wait. What’s a demobat? I don’t understand anything. Is someone going to explain this to me?" he asked desperately.

Robert began speaking calmly, as if giving a lecture. "Vecna was once a normal but dangerous kid with superpowers. I was the same. I was always different. But one day, in the lab where the doctor who wanted to test our power worked, something happened. A portal to another dimension was opened. Vecna is now the king there. And everything connected to that place serves him. Eddie was bitten by the creatures there. And he quite literally came back from the dead. You remember, don’t you, Eddie?"

Eddie lowered his head and said nothing.

Taking encouragement from the silence, Robert continued. "Your survival isn’t a miracle. You weren’t supposed to live. He brought you back to life. Just like he brought me back and bound me to him. Now, you were saying we’re not the same, that we’re different. Doesn’t seem so different to me, huh?"

As these words echoed in Eddie’s mind, he couldn’t help but ask another question. "What you said about Violet. Were you serious?"

Robert, exuding confidence, raised his hand and moved his fingers one by one. "I have my own tricks."

taglist:@arabellagreenleaf @cokepowder55 @nessa3nessa @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl @t-folklore13

[park-jimin-isnt-real]

"edge of tonight" part seventeen ~ the withdrawal

pairing: namjoon x reader (lots of platonic ot7 x reader) rating: T 16+ genre: mafia au, angst this part: Maybe you should go back. tw: mafia au!, angst, swearing, talk of dissociation, jimin is an asshole, i cannot stress enough how much you will not like jimin by the end of this chapter (you'll love him by the end of the next one), jungkook is a sweetheart and we don't deserve him word count: ~7.6k track #20: Addicted ~ Kelly Clarkson: “It's like I'm lost, it's like I'm giving up slowly.” the edge of tonight masterlist an: special thanks to everyone who stuck around long enough for this update. sorry it's late. life happens. but better late than never i guess! please let me know what you think! a little comment or dm goes a long way to helping me get through writing the next parts. thank you so much for reading!!

You stared back at your reflection in the window until it disappeared, the world outside becoming brighter. You didn't even bother trying to sleep; still in your dress, heels abandoned by the bed, arms wrapped around your legs as if that alone would protect you from your demons.

Today was going to be a bad day.

This was going to be the kind of day where, were you still in Busan, Jackson would smile and handle you gently. He wouldn't raise his voice, wouldn't bring anything up to remind you of your past. These types of days, you would be a ghost, and they were Jackson's favorite days.

But Jackson wasn't here. Jackson wasn't talking to you. Jackson wouldn’t walk you from one couch to another, wouldn't feed you small bits of kimchi, wouldn't take care of you the way you couldn't take care of yourself.

You'd hardly had any days like this since coming to Seoul, but even when you did you were still able to call Jackson. It wasn't the same, you being curled up all alone on your shitty couch in your shitty apartment, Jackson's voice crackling through the receiver instead of whispering gently into your ear.

He wasn't there, but you still had him.

Now you didn't have anything.

There was a knock outside your door. You didn't respond, hoping whoever it was would think you were still asleep and leave you be. A few minutes passed—and you thought you had been left alone once more—before you heard the last voice you wanted to.

"I know you're awake, beautiful," Park's overly cheery voice rang through the open crack. "You can either open the door on your own, or I can huff and puff and blow it down!"

A frustrated groan managed its way out of your throat, and you simply dropped your head into your arms. Maybe if you kept ignoring him, he'd take the hint and go away?

You felt the door being opened more than you heard it. "Fun night?" Park asked, walking in despite not being invited. You knew you looked terrible, and you knew that he knew, based on your appearance alone, that you did not have a fun night.

You still didn't respond, still hoping that the silent treatment would work, but you also knew that the chance was slim. He was proving to be as annoying as Jackson. Your arms squeezed a little tighter at the comparison. Park wasn't Jackson, he couldn't do for you what Jackson did.

But he might be the closest you could get right now.

"Come on, beautiful," Park continued talking to you even though you weren't answering back. "Let's get you in the shower."

A soft and warm hand grabbed at one of yours and started pulling you up. It was his touch that finally broke you from your near-frozen state. "Don't touch me!" You ripped your hand away, looking up to glare at him.

You were only met with a bright smile, but it didn't meet his eyes. "There you are! For a minute there, I was wondering if Choi Jaeseong actually managed to break you." You couldn't hide the flinch at the mention of Choi's name. His smile faded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now come on," he repeated, this time gesturing to the bathroom. "Shower time."

You tried moving away from him more, but you hadn't moved in hours and your limbs were too stiff to act quickly. Still, you spat out, "I can take care of myself."

Park looked you up and down several times, skepticism practically radiating out of him. "You might wanna try that line again when you don't look like last night's leftovers."

The amount of rage-fueled adrenaline that started coursing through you was something you hadn't experienced often and was usually only brought about by something Rosé's ex-boyfriend said or did. But Park's comment was enough to get your heart rate up and your body moving, if only to try and kill him.

"Get! Out!" You yelled, grabbing the pillow you used on the couch and hurling it at him. Park simply caught it and tossed it back onto the couch.

"Shower," he told you again, but at least he was headed towards the door this time. "You have half an hour before I come back and drag you downstairs for breakfast, regardless of what state you're in!"

"Fuck off, Park!" He had mostly closed the door behind him and you could hear his footsteps get further away, but you swore you could hear a snicker at your screamed explicative.

"Half an hour!" He called in return, his voice considerably quieter due to the distance now between you.

You rolled your eyes, not even willing to consider that his threat was real. But he did also seem like the exact person who would pull you from the middle of your shower and take you to the kitchen, half-covered in suds and only wrapped in a towel, so maybe you should treat it with some level of solemnity.

You started stretching your body out, realizing just how uncomfortable your position had been all night. Once you felt okay enough to stand, you went to the bathroom and turned the shower on.

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"Morning," Taehyung greeted you as you walked into the kitchen half an hour later, not looking up from his phone. Park was at the stove, apron on, flipping pancakes onto a plate.

"Hey," you responded, walking to the island but not taking a seat. Tae moved one over from his stool, probably giving you some more room. You could also sense the tension between the two of them, and you wondered briefly if it was the same problem from the beginning of the year.

Park looked over his shoulder as he turned the stove off. "Damn, you look way better," he smirked. "You're welcome."

You crossed your arms, trying not to explode at him. "I didn't ask for your help."

"But you needed it." He picked up the plate of pancakes and turned, placing it in the center of the island. "Eat up!" He said with an overly bright smile. Taehyung rolled his eyes.

You stood still. "How do I know you didn't poison them?"

Park's smile didn't drop, but it did turn the tiniest bit sharp. "Seriously?" You didn't react, waiting for him to make a move. He stared you down only for another moment, then picked up the top pancake with his hand and shoved nearly half of it in his mouth.

You waited until he had swallowed before speaking again. "That doesn't tell me anything."

"Oh my god." Now his smile dropped and he had to take a deep breath to keep himself in check. "Y/N, I admit that I am not Jin-hyung in the kitchen, but I'm also not Namjoon-hyung." He picked the plate up again, moving it closer to you and dropping it enough to hear the glass rattle a bit. "Eat the goddamn pancakes."

Park took off the apron, balling it up and leaving it on the counter, then walked past you on his way out of the kitchen. You waited just a bit longer before meandering your way over to the island to poke at the food.

"I watched him make them," Tae spoke up for the first time since seeing you. "He didn't poison them." He still didn't look at you, and it was a little weird how he hardly ever did when he talked to you, but you supposed that was part of his whole thing.

"Is he always like this?" You asked in return. Jungkook kept trying to tell you Jimin-hyung is actually really nice but you just couldn't see it. Taehyung took his own deep breath.

"No," he answered, "he really isn't. Jimin is normally very nice and considerate and understanding, while still being a little shit."

You finally sat down and pulled the pancake plate to you as you listened. "How come he's being a big shit when it comes to me?" You picked up the half-eaten pancake that Park left and started ripping it into smaller pieces to eat.

"Because he thinks he's helping, and I understand why he's doing it but I don't agree with the execution. He should be a lot nicer to you."

You didn't want to admit that the pancake was good. Not Jin good, but good. No traces of poison anywhere to be found. You didn't really think that Park would try to poison you, but you just didn't understand why this one person just couldn't give you the same space that the rest of the members had.

"Why's he doing it then? Why isn't he being nicer?"

Taehyung sighed and didn't answer you for a moment. He put his phone down but still refused to look at you. “Ultimately, that's not my story to tell,” he said. “You'll need to ask Jimin yourself.”

“Ask me what?” The devil himself asked as he came back into the kitchen. You barely spared him a glance and noticed he had changed into his usual suit get-up, hair parted perfectly to expose his forehead.

If you were different people, it would've been attractive.

“And where are you off to?” Taehyung asked as you took another bite of pancake, hoping it would keep Park from talking to you.

“Hot date,” the answer came, and you were surprised by the anger that started coming from the man next to you. They were friends and had a strange bond, but you couldn't help wondering what was so wrong about Park going out that had Taehyung all worked up.

The cruel voice in your head tried suggesting that you and Park were more alike than you'd like to believe, and Taehyung was his Jackson. You shut that thought out before it could gain root. Even if you were right, you didn't need to gain any sympathy for Park and how he was treating you.

“Have fun, you two!” The bastard called as he headed out the door.

“Doing what?!” Taehyung yelled back before the door could fully close. Park only stuck his head back in, a stupid, cheeky grin on his stupid face.

“Make sure she doesn't dissociate.” The door closed fully faster than you could fling a stupid pancake at him for the comment. Taehyung dropped his head into his hands, giving up, as you both heard the garage opening and Park starting his car and driving off.

“I am going to kill him one of these days,” you said around a pancake bite.

Taehyung only sighed again but looked at you this time. “I’ll let you beat him up a bit, how's that?”

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You were getting tired again. You could feel it in your soul, in that weight you carried no matter where you went. You were tired of all the late nights, the bad sex, the lack of relevant information. The only thing that had kept you so present lately was Park's now daily pestering.

Honestly, If it weren't for fucking Park and his fucking meddling, you would've become that ghost of yourself Jackson loved so much. And then maybe Jackson would've sensed that change in you and would've unblocked you by now and you'd be talking to him again but noooooo. Park just had to keep pushing every button to get you angry, and if there was one thing that cut through your bone-deep weariness, it was your anger.

It was this dissonance in your head that kept you from really focusing on whatever theory you, Namjoon, and Jungkook were trying to figure out at that moment. After the third round of repeated questions and gentle shoulder touches to bring you back, Namjoon softly suggested that maybe you take a break.

“Jungkook and I can keep working on this if you want to go do something else?” His tone was nothing but genuine concern, but the words themselves reminded you too much of similar things Jackson had told you.

“You don't have to be here, you can go train or something.”

As sympathetic as his suggestion was supposed to be, Namjoon only made you feel that tired more.

“Come to the gym with me tomorrow.”

Both your head and Namjoon's snapped to the youngest in surprise, not expecting him to speak up, much less offer anything.

“Why?” You asked. In the almost three months you had spent living with them, Jungkook had never invited you to his gym before.

He didn't immediately answer you like he usually did. Instead, his eyes flicked between you and Namjoon several times, bottom lip bitten due to nerves.

“I was told not to tell you why or who told me to ask you,” he finally said. Namjoon only looked more confused, but that tired you were just barely feeling switched over to the anger.

“Why?” Namjoon echoed your question but you could already guess the who and the why.

“Park can ask me to do things himself, instead of getting you to do his dirty work.” Your only immediate regret was that your tone made Jungkook flinch back from you the smallest amount.

“Jimin-hyung thought the suggestion would be better coming from me,” he explained quietly, trying not to upset you further. It made you feel worse about accidentally taking your anger out on him. Jungkook didn't deserve that.

So you turned to Namjoon instead, who also didn't deserve it but could at least throw it back at you if you went too far. It was a skill every gang leader needed.

“Can you get Park to back off? I'm perfectly fine without his help.”

Namjoon sighed, clearly already done with the topic at hand. “I've talked with Jimin several times already, as have most other members. I don't think there's any stopping him at this point.”

You threw your head back with a groan. “I just want to be left alone! Is that really so much to ask?”

The room was silent for a moment, then Jungkook quietly spoke up again. “Jimin-hyung thinks that it would help you if you got out of the estate during the day, and Hobi-hyung said that you used to train a lot when you were in Busan, and the best place to train is at a gym.”

While you were once again upset at the mention of Jimin thinks you should do this, you were surprised to hear Jungkook say Hobi-hyung rather than Hoseok-hyung. As far as you were aware, you were the only one who referred to him as Hobi.

Maybe you had a greater influence here than you originally thought.

“And you own a gym?” You guessed. You had remembered a gym name being thrown around occasionally, and it was an easy assumption that Jungkook's side business would be somewhere he and the rest of the members could train themselves.

“It's not a bad idea,” Namjoon said, albeit hesitantly. He didn't want to force you into anything you weren't comfortable with, but giving you a healthier outlet would be beneficial. “I bet Yeji would like to meet you.”

“And you would get along with her so well!” Jungkook added.

You stood up, officially done with this conversation, and spoke as you headed to the office door, “I don't need any more friends, female or otherwise, but thanks for the offer. Tell Park to fuck off for me.” And with that, you left the office.

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There wasn't a night where you didn't miss Rosé, but most nights the longing was so quiet you hardly noticed it anymore.

Jungkook's offer to go train at his gym and Namjoon's suggestion of meeting Yeji (whoever she was) brought your attention back to the first real female friend you ever made, and the tragic circumstances of her disappearance. Only now you knew how she disappeared, and you knew she was happy.

That didn't make the feeling go away, though. 

You were so fucking tired of feelings. You were tired of being fucking tired, too. If Jackson would just unblock you, he could help you not feel so tired, or at least help you stop feeling in general.

Maybe you should go back.

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It took you three days to accept Jungkook's offer. You weren't happy about it, but Park was right again. Getting you out of the estate for a bit would help you, and punching things and/or people would be a great way to vent your stupid emotions.

If it worked in Busan, it would work now too.

The Basement was a standard gym, with treadmills and weight machines and punching bags. You asked Jungkook why he named it The Basement, but he only smirked at you.

“It's where I'm supposed to stay.”

You didn't bother asking anything further to decipher the cryptic answer. It sounded like an inside joke and you weren't interested.

As he led you further into the building, you saw a couple of boxing rings, both of which were occupied by people sparring with each other. One had a young woman with her red hair tied up in a high ponytail, going at it with another girl with blonde hair who looked similar in age.

It reminded you a bit too much of Busan.

The other ring had two men sparring. Both the women and one of the men had purple bands tied around one arm.

“Anyone with that purple band is a member of the ‘staff’,” Jungkook explained, showing you the one he had on. He leaned a bit closer and continued quietly, “They know what we do, and to certain extents, they help us when needed.”

You nodded your understanding. You'd make sure not to use the members’ real names then, just to be safe. Jungkook continued to guide you to the boxing ring with the two women. “Yeji!” He called up to them, and they both stopped and turned. “Come down and meet Y/N!”

You felt your face redden slightly at the sudden attention. Several heads turned your way, staring unapologetically. You started considering making a break for it, but you'd have to walk back to the main estate. You didn't know the way, and it'd be too dangerous for you to be out on the streets alone like that.

You were stuck here. Unfortunately.

The redhead climbed out of the ring quickly, pulling the gloves off with her teeth. “Hello!” She said with a quick bow, still slightly out of breath. “I'm Yeji, it's so nice to finally meet you!”

You offered a small smile and bowed back, but you still didn't say anything. You failed to see how Namjoon thought you two would become friends.

“Yeji is from Jeonju,” Jungkook brought up. “Y/N's been in Busan the past few years.”

Jeonju piqued your interest. “How'd you get up here?” You asked her quietly, not sure if it was a story she'd be willing to share.

“My dad couldn't pay off his drug debt, so the boss took me instead,” Yeji replied, a twinge of sadness in her eyes, but nothing else gave her emotion away. “I was sold in the Trade—” what the southern underground called sex trafficking “—and eventually found myself in Seoul.”

You looked between her and Jungkook, a bit afraid to ask your next question. “How'd you get out?”

“The Y/N Initiative,” came the reply from both of them, but Yeji continued, “So you're a different kind of famous in the lower circles.”

“No wonder me coming back from the dead made such a stir.” Yeji and Jungkook laughed, but you didn't understand why.

“Yeji, why don't you get Y/N warmed up while I go get her a band,” Jungkook said, then walked away, leaving you and this new girl who was supposed to become your friend alone.

“Busan's pretty rough.” Yeji led you to the now-empty boxing ring. "We don’t get many girls from that far south up here very often.”

“I wasn’t planning on being another one,” you vaguely explained. “Everything just sort of happened and now I’m here.” You pulled yourself up and slid between the ring ropes, feeling a sense of familiarity amidst the new environment. You knew your way around a boxing ring very well, and a part of you wondered if another member owned or had easy access to a shooting range.

“Well, I’m glad you made it,” Yeji told you, climbing up after you. She handed you a pair of boxing gloves, which you took a bit too hesitantly. “And hopefully you aren’t too rusty, it’s been a long time since I’ve sparred with someone from the South.” Her cheeky tone made you smirk, and you almost missed the wink she sent your way.

Sparring with Yeji was reminiscent of sparring in Busan, and you found yourself more present than you had been in months. Something was refreshing about not overthinking into the void and just throwing punches and kicks.

There was also something infuriating about fucking Park being fucking right fucking again.

You even had a chance to go toe to toe with Jungkook once he returned with a purple band for you, and you had to admit that you had fun. You'd never had fun training before, but something about Jungkook's stupid bunny grin as he egged you on and told you “You can hit harder than that, come on” brought a smile to your face.

Something resembling a smile, anyway.

You were panting and drenched in sweat by the time you called it quits. Yeji led you to the girls' locker room so you could rinse off, and even left you some simple clothes for you to change into.

“We always have extras here,“ she explained as she handed the jeans and t-shirt to you. “Just in case someone needs them.” She winked and left, giving you your privacy. Something about that sounded a bit flirty, but you could tell it was harmless. It was probably for the Y/N Initiative.

You didn't take long in the locker room, not wanting to hold Jungkook back since he was your ride. You didn't see him, though, when you walked back onto the main floor.

You shrugged it off, he was probably doing some kind of business management thing. He wouldn't leave without you, so you decided to make your way to the front and wait for him. You walked past a couple of different small groups of people on your way.

The last one made you double-take.

“Oh. My. God.” Your voice caught the attention of the group and the man you were looking at. His eyes went wide in recognition as you continued. “This is where your little rat ass made it?”

“Those are big words coming from such a little bird,” Jay Park taunted back. “Where's your owner? Shouldn't he have you on a leash?”

“Is your dick still functional?” You fake whispered, catching the attention of others nearby. Park's face turned red from embarrassment and anger, while a few girls laughed.

“Are you the one who did that to him?” someone called, and the guys surrounding him snickered. Apparently, you were a legend in more than one way.

“He had to learn no means no somehow.” Jay Park stalked towards you, but you held your ground. You hadn't seen him since that day, and if you thought back hard enough, you could still taste the blood in your mouth. Park took a deep breath on his way over, calming himself back down. That was unusual to you—he used to have a temper as bad as Rosé's ex. You weren't sure what to make of it, or how to respond, so you stepped back.

“For as much of a little shit you are, it's nice to see you finally out of Busan.” You only blinked at him, completely thrown off by his 180-degree shift.

“Didn't think you'd be one to care,” you said back, but not with the same amount of bite you had before.

Park shrugged, “People change. I didn't care about a lot of things until I got out and found this place. Jungkook put a few good beatings on my ass.”

You still didn't fully trust him, or what he was saying, but he also sounded genuine. You knew that getting away from the wrong place, the wrong people, could make someone turn around for the better. You just never expected it with Jay Park.

He had a purple band on, though. If Jungkook trusted him, then maybe you could give him a shot too?

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since the day after you tried biting my dick off.” You couldn't help the twitch of your lips into a small smirk. “I got in a bad fight with Jackson over it. Told him to fuck off and then got the hell outta there. He isn't here too, is he?” Park glanced around, nervous to see the person you were dying to hear back from.

“Jackson's still down in Busan,” you admitted in a smaller voice than you would have liked.

“He let you come up here all by yourself?”

You refused to look at him, your gaze pointedly on the ground. “I… kind of ran away. And now he won't talk to me.”

“Shit,” Park muttered, “you're getting help from Bangtan and still trying to stay in contact with the person you're running from?”

“I didn't run from Jackson,” you spat out, although you weren't sure you believed the statement yourself. “I was offered a really good job up here and I took it. And then things started falling apart, so now Bangtan is helping me. And Jackson doesn't like that I'm not back in Busan working with him. So he stopped talking to me.”

Park stood in silence, taking all of that in. It was weird, having him just listen to you, to not hear some stupid comment from him. But, at the same time, it was nice to see someone you knew from Busan. It was nice to talk about Jackson with someone who also knew him.

“You know,” Park finally said, “for as much of a dickwad as he is, Jackson does care a lot about you.” And you did know that. “You said you were working on some kind of job up here, and that's cool, but if he's not talking to you, you may wanna head back down to Busan for a couple days and try to patch things up with him. Maybe even see if he'll come back with you and start helping.”

“Hey Jay, let's go!” One of the other guys called for him, and the rest of the group headed into one of the sparring areas.

Park nodded to you, “Guess I'll be seeing you around, ya little bitch.” Then he turned and ran to rejoin his friends. You couldn't even offer a decent comeback. You just stood, nearly frozen, digesting his words. There was only one thing ringing around in your head.

Maybe you should go back.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

You stayed in, sending Hueningkai a message to take the night off. There were too many things bouncing around inside your head to try and seduce information out of others tonight.

You were thinking too much, and you couldn't get your brain to stop. A single thought drowned out the rest, weaving itself into each idea, playing like a broken record.

Maybe you should go back.

Jackson could help you. Jackson could get your mind to stop. Jackson could calm your worries with a few words, a quick fuck, whatever was needed. Jackson was the one you needed.

And Jackson was in Busan. So maybe you should go back, you should definitely apologize, and hope he puts your months-long act of defiance behind him. He'd forgive you eventually, he always did. Especially if you were good.

Jackson does care a lot about you, Jay Park had said, you may wanna head back down. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever thought you'd be considering Jay Park's advice, but all he really did was say out loud what you had already been thinking. Jackson cares about you, and you should go back.

With a small groan, you rolled yourself off your couch landing facedown on the floor. The slight change didn't do much for your racing mind, but at least the different environment convinced your body that moving was okay. After breathing in the carpet for another moment, you pushed yourself up, slowly getting on your feet.

Silently, you crept towards your door, slightly ajar as always. While part of you understood you didn't need to creep around, that no one here was going to yell at you, you did still want to be respectful of the time. 3 AM wasn't an ideal time to be awoken, but you knew at least one member who would still be up.

You tiptoed down the hall, glad your target's room was only one down from yours. The light in Namjoon's office was on, the door mostly closed, but you could hear the leader snoring inside. You were safe to be a little louder.

Quickly, but still quietly, you knocked on the door four times. After waiting a few minutes and not receiving any response, you tried again a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

You let out a soft sigh. Either Yoongi was actually asleep, or he wasn't here tonight, which meant you couldn't badger him for some more sleeping pills. You just wanted one good night's rest for once, it couldn't have been too much to ask for.

You turned around, starting to head back into your room, but a quiet voice stopped you.

“Y/N-ssi?” Jungkook spoke softly, his tone concerned. “Are you okay?”

You turned towards the youngest, who was in sleeping clothes but somehow looked more awake than he should be, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, just wanted to see if Yoongi was up.” It wasn't a total lie.

“I think he crashed at his place tonight,” Jungkook said. “Something about being at the studio for too long and not wanting to drive all the way out here.”

You nodded, then offered a small wave. “Well, good ni—”

“Do you want to get a late-night snack?” Jungkook asked, interrupting you. You just looked at him, confused, until he added, “I was gonna get something for myself, but we can share if you want to.”

Your stomach started aching a bit at the mention of food. You did eat a small dinner, but that was many hours ago. Maybe another small something would help you rest a bit more. You simply nodded, walking towards him and following him down to the basement.

“Would you prefer sweet or salty?” Jungkook asked as he stared at the snack pantry. You made a beeline for the couch, wrapping yourself up in a blanket to shield yourself from the cold.

“Neither?” Your answer sounded more like a question. You weren't sure what you were craving, not what exactly they had to offer.

“Savory it is, then.” You heard the sound of plastic crinkling, then peered over the back of the couch to see Jungkook carrying a package of jerky. Your mouth watered a bit. That would be perfect for a midnight snack. He sat at the other end of the couch, then opened the package and offered it to you first. You snaked a hand out from the warmth and grabbed a few pieces.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, just snacking. Jungkook looked awake and asleep at the same time, and you wondered if you needed to be the responsible one and get him back into bed.

Jungkook stood once the jerky was gone, stretching his arms above his head. “Thank you for letting me sit with you, Y/N-ssi.”

Maybe it was because it was nearly 4 AM and you were tired and restless all at once. Maybe it was because this kid had been so sweet and respectful since you got here that it wore you down. Maybe it was because you were sick of hearing him say Y/N-ssi when everyone else here was far less formal with you. 

“Jungkook,” you called as he headed for the stairs. He turned around, sleepy but curious. You swallowed. “You can call me Noona, if you want.”

A big bunny grin slowly spread across his face. “Really?”

“Go to bed.”

He just laughed. “Goodnight, Noona!”

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

You were about to lose your mind.

It had been months since you'd last spoken to Jackson, since he had cut you off, and you couldn't take it anymore. Between his voice echoing in your head every night, to shitty sex that hardly got you what you wanted, to all of Park's stupid fucking remarks—you hadn't slept properly in weeks because you couldn't get out of your head long enough.

You were thinking too much, and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed Jackson back, and if that meant going back to Busan, then that's what you were going to do.

And maybe Jay Park was right! Maybe if you went back and showed how sorry you were, Jackson would come back to Seoul with you, and then you and he and all of Bangtan could work together to solve this mystery!

(Somewhere deep inside, you knew that wouldn't happen, but if that idea was what got you back to Busan, back to Jackson, then that's what you would keep telling yourself.)

Maybe you would spend just one or two more days here, and then have Hueningkai drive you to the train station. You'd have to take all the money with you though—it was half the reason you took the job in Seoul. Maybe you'd take a night train then, to be less conspicuous, but that would also mean walking through the dark streets of Busan with a large amount of cash on you.

Could you get Kai to drive you all the way to Busan?

But you really shouldn't be asking anything more of Kai, he was so young, and driving you all the way down to Busan and then coming back to Seoul all by himself? No, that was too much. Would one of the others be willing to drive you? Jungkook was from Busan originally, maybe he'd like to visit? And he would be able to handle himself if anything happened, which was always a possibility in the South.

Yeah, maybe that's what you'd do. In another day or two, you'd ask Jungkook to drive you down to Busan. Wait, no, fuck, you couldn't ask Jungkook, he's wanted dead or alive in Busan! It's too risky for him to take you, and no one else would without a very good reason. Could you pin it on a new lead? Some thread of information you collected one night from who knows which man you slept with. No, that wouldn't work either, they'd all see right through that.

Goddammit, why was this so hard? You made the plan to leave Busan in an hour and executed it the next day. Why couldn't you make a plan to get back to Busan?

You were going to have to take the train, and you would need to get someone to take you to the train station. Or maybe you'd walk there yourself. You could probably figure out the way. Could you get there before a rival gang recognized you and tried to kill you? Or worse, what if Song's men caught you and tried taking you back to wherever Song was?

No, you'd need someone to actually drive you there. You'd have to leave the money here, too. Just tell Jackson you got most of it back but you had to leave it in Seoul for safety reasons. That would make him come back to Seoul with you, too.

Okay, yes, that was it! You'd leave the money here. Someone, Jungkook probably, would drive you to the train station. You'd go back to Busan, meet up with Jackson, eventually gain his forgiveness, and then tell him you got most of the money back but you couldn't travel with it. Then he'd bring you back to Seoul where you'd reunite with Bangtan and continue making strides towards solving the mystery but now with help from the one person you needed most.

It would be perfect! What could possibly go wrong?

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

You waited for the next day Jungkook would take you to the Basement with him. He didn't take you every day, despite a certain member pressuring the two of you to go. Some days Jungkook had his own share of gang activity to take care of, and you still wanted to keep some distance between Yeji and Jay Park. You enjoyed taking shitty naps on the good couch on those days, until said certain member decided you'd had enough alone time.

Maybe you would stab him just once before going back down to Busan.

So here you were, just a few short weeks after your first time at the gym, dressed the same way you were when you first arrived in Seoul. You tucked your hair behind your red baseball cap and tugged your green jacket around you a bit tighter. Jackson had given you these forever ago, and you knew he'd be happy to see you return in them.

And you wanted to make Jackson as happy as possible. It would make getting back on his good side easier.

You checked the time on your phone once more, then tucked it into a pocket and temporarily left your room for the last time. You'd be back. You just weren't sure when. You didn't let yourself look back or turn around, this was happening and it was happening now.

Jungkook was waiting for you in the living room, messing around with Taehyung on some phone game. Park stood by the entrance to the kitchen, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. They all looked up when you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you ready to go?” Jungkook asked you, only slightly confused. You took the jacket with you just about everywhere—he knew that—but he didn't usually see you in the hat anymore, not to mention you weren't dressed for going to a gym.

“Yeah,” you answered, not stopping. If you stopped, they'd have a chance to question you and you needed to get Jungkook into the car. Jungkook started to follow you, but fucking Park moved to block your way.

“You don't look like you're going to the gym.” He was much less confused, far more stern, something you were more used to with Jackson. He slid his phone into his pocket, giving you his full attention.

You tried sidestepping him multiple times, but he wasn't letting you pass. Jungkook moved away, giving you two space, while Tae watched from the couch.

“Move, Park.” You were so done with him, with his stupid voice and comments and “helpful” tips about what you should and shouldn't be doing. You already had one man trying to control your life, you didn't need another one. And you were trying to get back to the first!

“Why are you dressed like that?” He asked instead, making himself more comfortable in the doorway. You clenched your fists at your sides, beyond ready to throw a punch at him. He was still a member of Bangtan, though, and you were still trying to keep physical violence out of it.

He wasn't making it easy.

“Why do you have to critique every choice I try to make? Why can't you just let me live my life?”

“Why were you searching for the train station schedule?” You took a small step back in shock. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”

How did Park of all people know that? You were alone in the kitchen when you made that search earlier. You had heard someone come in while you were washing your breakfast dishes, and you had left your phone on the island counter but you were sure—

“You left your phone unlocked, with the schedule right there on the screen.” Park didn't smirk, but with his tone, he might as well have.

You closed your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, trying to keep yourself under control. You'd have more control over the situation as a whole if you remained calm. No matter how difficult Park made it.

When you opened your eyes again, you met Park's gaze directly. There was no hint of amusement or enjoyment. He had the same fierce determination that you did.

“I don't answer to you.”

“No,” he agreed, “but you do need to answer to the person who's driving you.” He pointed behind you to Jungkook, and you turned to look at the youngest.

Jungkook was very clearly worried about you, about what Park was implying, about what fight might break out. This wasn't going the way you wanted it to, and if you had any hope of salvaging your plan, you needed to get yourself and Jungkook in a car now.

“Can we just go, please, Jungkook?” You asked softly. In a way, Jungkook was like a mini-Namjoon or a mini-Hobi. He'd probably do whatever you asked, and you really needed to take advantage of that right now.

Unfortunately for you, he was also a mini-Jimin.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked in return, just as softly. You could see the hope in his eyes, the desire for Park to be wrong. He wanted you to just go to the gym with him like you had planned, not whatever his hyung was talking about. You needed to check the time, check and see how long this confrontation had taken, and make sure you could still catch the next train to Busan, but it would look too suspicious.

Each member in the room waited in tense silence for you to answer Jungkook's question. If you saved face and said the gym, then once you were in the car you wouldn't be able to change his mind. If you admitted you were planning on going to the train station, he wouldn't take you there now.

At this point, you had been silent for too long, and your answer was clear. Park spoke up again.

"I swear to god if you say you're going back to Busan—"

"Yes, I'm going back to Busan!!" You finally snapped, entirely too fed up with him. You turned on your heel, glaring into his too-serious face. "I can't take it anymore! Jackson hasn't unblocked me and I'm thinking too much and no one else can make it stop!! So get out of my way you fucking asshole!!" You looked over your shoulder back at Jungkook for only a moment, who stood there with wide eyes and was several more steps away from you now.

As you opened your mouth to say "let's go" to him, you were quite literally swept off your feet and flung across Park's shoulders, which were now digging into your chest and stomach painfully. He had one hand firmly around one of your ankles and the other had managed to capture both your wrists.

"Let me GO Park!"

"Jimin, what the fuck, man?" You heard Taehyung speak up for the first time since you descended the stairs.

"Hyung, what are you doing??"

"That's the first genuinely honest thing you've said in weeks," Park said, though you weren't sure if he was talking directly to you or commenting to himself. You struggled against his hold, but this was a position you had never really been in before and definitely hadn't trained to get out of. If you were only slung over one shoulder you could manage, but you couldn't get a decent hit or kick in.

Part of you was starting to panic.

Each step he took up the stairs bounced, and shoved his shoulders into your flesh more, making whatever was going on more uncomfortable.

"I'm calling Namjoon-hyung!" You heard Jungkook threaten. The fact that neither of them was actively trying to stop Park meant they believed you weren't in any serious danger, but you couldn't help the terror creeping through you.

Park released your ankle to open a door, presumably to your bedroom, and grabbed at it again before you could maneuver yourself out of his grasp. You weren't paying attention to where he was taking you, just that it was in the opposite direction of where you wanted to go. A light flicked on and you caught a glimpse of red—so, not your room—and then heard the door slam shut.

The sound was enough to get you to stop fighting. It shocked you back to ten years ago, when you were just as vulnerable and defenseless and alone. You weren't getting out of this.

He took large strides further into the room. The world twisted again as he threw you from his shoulders to something soft.

A bed.

He crawled over you, your body too scared to move. Your mind was racing and frozen at the same time. You looked up into his eyes, dark but not hungry, intense but not angry. You weren't sure what to make of it, so you said the only thing you could.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Your body might be down for the count, but you could always count on your mouth to do something. You expected him to smirk, but he was nothing but serious.

"Jackson isn't the only one who can fuck you stupid."

i have been waiting for this next chapter since i wrote "the bar"!!! this is the one i replay in my head over and over again and i am so excited for you all to finally read it!!! thank you again for your patience and i look forward to hearing back from you what you thought and if you liked it. also let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, i'm redoing it. happy new year!

@snurtsnurt @remmykinsff @sakuyakira @jazajas @mochi13 @fly-you-dam-fools @orangegaytorade @iliketowrite-2 @ijustwnatablog @secretxl @livingbubbles-blog @clowdyblue @nc-anon @shylia

[st4r-th0ughts]

Lord, give me one more chance.

I wonder, if this will be the last?

Mk1 characters x Liu Kang’s child! Reader

4:00A.M. (Taeko Onuki) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:47

ׂ╰┈➤

tw/cw: reader is very much feeling guilt for shedding so much blood, this is a nightmare so dw our pookies ain’t dead, reader remembers very very vague stuff from mk11 timeline (aftermath and being Shinnok’s spawn carries onto the next timeline), it’s like not making sense? Ig cause it’s a nightmare lmfao, gorey scenes and descriptors, body horror, light religious? themes, drowning, neck snap, shits painful in general bruv, third person pov (you/yours), dw shits dark but it’s a bit happy at the end. Mostly.

notes: first time writing a fic that delves into gory descriptors and I’m doing research in how to write nightmares lol so forgive me if it’s unrealistic, corny or smth

summary: A nightmare that comes back every time you fall into dream land.

characters in focus: Liu Kang in particular tbh (father figure), Earthrealm champions, Shirai Ryu duo, and the rest are more background but they still are nightmarish in descriptions.

ׂ╰┈➤

Heavy breathing. You heave as your feet connect with the cold, stone slate as opposed to the smooth, soundless wood of your bedroom floors. It’s the same. The same. The same nightmare tormenting you for weeks.

Everything around you is hazy. Blurred lines of dull clouds gloss over the supposedly clear night skies, the stars whispering words of goodbye as they disappeared from your sight. You blindly reach for them, stumbling forward as your feet loose its footing despite there being solid ground in front of you.

A scream escaped you as darkness swallowed you whole, your yells echoing against the stone around you, your hands mindlessly scraping the walls that seem to grow further from you, your fingers scraping them desperately, the pain searing as you feel your nails peel and scrape away.

You prided yourself for being the level headed one, the one who didn’t scream while everyone else was panicking, a trait your dear father… your father. He was in the distance. No wait, no, you’re falling. You’re supposed to be falling.

A gasp. Your standing in front a temple. Deep in the forest, in front a worn down temple, the walls crumbling ever so slowly as you step forward. You don’t feel good. You don’t feel like yourself. Your legs are stumbling forward onto the stairs.

The incense burner is abandoned. Everytime you came here, to watch the mortals worship the God of Fire, people pile up in lines to pay their dues. The ash is pale and white as you pick it up and let it crumble in your hands.

The temple is too silent. You stumble through empty halls of prayer halls, staring straight ahead. There are eyes in the shadows. They follow you. Judge you. Whisper about you. It makes you feel nothing.

There’s a small pond in the temple. You remember. Orange… blobs… float around. There’s no lily pads. There’s a statue of him in the temple. A dragon accompanies him. His marble eyes make contact with yours, half of his face having crumbling into fine dust.

You feel parched. You grasp your throat with bloody fingers, the nailless fingers clawing the skin so hard you think you’ll tear out your trachea. Your legs stumble mindlessly to the pond, and you can feel the marble statue crumble and his eyes following you.

Your knees slam into the pond’s edge as you feel them crack and snap as you cup algae infested water into your mouth, the liquid tasteless and stale as the familiar man’s marble feet crumble as it fell forward. The crash is loud. Your ears ring and there’s warm liquid leaking out of your eardrums.

Your head turns, and you come face to face with those familiar glowing eyes, blood seeping and dripping where his jaw should be. His teeth are bloody, his tongue moves in a weak attempt to speak, and his eyes are glassy and bloodshot.

A empty wail escapes his mouth, and you scream in pure terror as he reaches out for you with cold, bandaged hands, scrambling back as you crawl and scrape the floor, gagging as you feel bile rise up in your throat, a sob of sorrow for this familiar man and fear as your vision blurs.

You can’t run. Faces stare back at you. Their faces. Their names. Their voice. It’s a blur. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. The blindfolded man’s throat is torn out. There’s blood flowing and dripping in front of your feet like a river. If you could hear past the heavy ringing, you’d guess he’d be straining whatever words he can make out.

There’s black shards in the American man’s face, his face looking like it was torn apart by a serated knife you stare blankly into his lifeless eyes as a duo step out from behind him, one decapitated as it stumbled forward, blood spurting out of his neck, and the other was split in two, crawling towards you as he cried out in agony.

Your knees are broken. The bones are jutting out of your flesh as you writhe away from the familiar, mangled states of people you’re begging forgiveness from. Why are you begging forgiveness? You don’t know. The words are tumbling out of your mouth, you know they are despite the ringing.

Unbeknownst to you, your frantic movements edging you closer to the pond’s edge as flashes of bodies, bloodshed, and carnage as you shake your head in despair. Why do these memories torment you? Is the Elder Gods punishing you?

You feel your body being shocked as freezing temperatures drag you down. The water is disturbed as your legs scrape the floor, trying to surface to scream and breathe the stale, dusty air. Your legs cramp, and with that, the icy water swallows you whole.

You struggle. There’s an invisible force dragging you down, you thrash and writhe in its grip, your eyes forced open as your faced with bodies floating around you, bubbles escaping your mouth as your hands weakly struggle to locate them, or locate anything alive at all.

Your lungs are burning. Your legs are useless, limp and floating along with the force as your hands slowly cease your struggling, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness as your dragged deeper as the surface is further and further out of your grasp.

You turn your head as you come face to face to a bloodied face. Two of them, lifeless and floating limply in the dark depths of the water. A scarred right eye housing empty eye sockets and missing limbs, and another man with bloodied gray hair had his mask floating not far from his mouth. Or whatever it was supposed to be considering his entire lower face was torn off, the loose flesh making you almost vomit.

There’s too many faces around you. Mangled, bloodied, grotesque. They are familiar. Some… some you know well. Friendly. Some are those you can feel are enemies. People you’ve battled against before. People whose blood you’ve splattered before, and people who’ve sunk their weapons into you as well.

You feel your neck strain as your slammed against the stone hard floor, gasping weakly as bubbles escape your mouth, your eyes darting around to search for a futile escape. You see two ladies. One dressed in blue, one dressed in pink. They look similar. Their faces are intact, leaving your to stare at their beheaded forms as the sharp teethed lady’s face passes too close to your face.

You gag, your vision blurring as you gain a burst of adrenaline, your hands scraping hard against the stone and dirt of the water, trying to move against the force pushing your neck harder and harder against the floor.

There’s bodies beside you, their necks wrangled as you see a green cloaked man with tattoos lie beside with a black eyed lady as the force on your neck becomes unbearable, your vision blurring as you feel the last of your life leave you.

There’s a crack, and everything goes silent.

You jolt awake, a strangled gasp escaping you as your hands grip the covers, your nails intact and neatly cut, your knees are still in place, and you’re not being drowned and chased by abominations of the dream.

Your father is beside you, worriedly feeling your forehead as he wipes the cold sweat with a comfortingly warm cloth, a shiver running down your back as you remember the harsh, bitter coldness of the pond’s water drowning you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Liu Kang’s voice rings out gently as he pats your back, coaxing the fear out of you with ease as he brought you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

You nod barely as you hug him back, flashes of that statue of him staring at you, his jawless form trying to embrace you into his cold hugs. This is warm. And it feels like home.

Blood is not uncommon in your life. Your father has always trained you to be one of the consistent Earthrealm defenders. You just hope your battles don’t end up shedding blood of people you cared about.

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

a/n: would love to hear your opinions and what I can improve on when writing stuff like these next time!

[hunterofartemis7]

After Odysseus left for war, Penelope kept all his clothes, capes, jewelry etc tucked safely away in the closet for when he returned. She allowed no one touch them, not even herself really, that was until Telemachus found them. She left Telemachus alone with one of the maid, who was Athena in disguise, while she went to handle queen stuff. She came back a few hours later to find her son hiding under one of his fathers capes, and wearing one of his tops that was way to big for the baby. The young princess also somehow managed to get a hold of his father’s jewelry which he was both wearing, and trying to eat.

Penelope was of course confused as to how her infant son even got into a locked closet until she saw Athena trying not to laugh her head off.

“I’m sorry,” the goddess laughed, “he kept trying to get in the closet and I can’t say no to his little wolf eyes.”

Penelope wanted to be angry at her husbands mentor, but couldn’t when she saw how cute her son looked. She smiled and picked him up off the floor. “You’ll grow into them someday my son.”

“I can make small version of Odysseus clothes for Telemachus if you want. Just until he grows into them.” Athena offered, picking some of the random clothes off the floor.

“You just want an excuse to make my son small outfits.”

“Guilty.” The goddess smiled. “But I’m not hearing a no.”

The queen submitted and agreed to let Athena make smaller versions of her husband clothes for her son. She can’t say she didn’t hate it. Penelope liked seeing Telemachus crawling around like a small copy of Odysseus. As years went on, Athena continued to do this for Telemachus, while occasionally clipping a piece of Odysseus jewelry to his shirt or cape. Penelope loved seeing how exited Telemachus would get when his grandmother or aunt said he looked just like his father. He’d run around the place pretending to fight a boar like his father, getting a laugh out of the guards who saw him. Telemachus even convinced his mom to cut his hair like his father for a while. But as 10 years turns to 15, to 20, Telemachus had actually grown into Odysseus clothes and had no reason to have copies made anymore. He did it to feel closer to his father, and hoped he wouldn’t be mad when he came home. The suitors were the first to make a bad comment about it. They teased him from wanting to look like a knock off Odysseus, or for dressing like the man who abandoned him.

One real bad experience with Antonius made him want to stop wearing them all together, but Athena encouraged him to ignore what those other men were saying and wear them anyway. He was honoring his father by wearing the clothes. So he kept at it. When Odysseus was finally home, he didn’t immediately notice his son was wearing his clothes, just that his armor resembled Athena. Actually he barely noticed that until late at night once everyone was asleep and he was replaying the memories in his head. It wasn’t till the next morning after he had taken a bath that Odysseus went to his closet and found all his old clothes had disappeared, minus a few that were to big for him.

“Hey Penelope, did you hide my clothes somewhere?” He asked “I mean I don’t mind walking around nude in front of you, but I’d rather not traumatize our son.”

Penelope had a good idea where they were, but was gonna let her husband figure it out. “No, I always kept them in there.”

“Huh.” Odysseus there confused for a moment before grabbing one of the oversized garments from the his wardrobe. “Well this’ll work for now till I figure this out.”

Penelope held back from laughing, “this is going to be a fun morning.” She thought to herself.

“Well if you’re ready, we should head down to breakfast.” Penelope held her hand out for her husband. “Don’t want to miss your first real meal with your son.”

Meanwhile, Telemachus was getting ready in his chamber. He had snatched on of his father garments, jewelry, belt and sword holster. He’d already be out the door if Athena, (who had been staying with the royal family since his diplomatic mission) would quit fussing with his hair. “Athena knock it off!” He groaned trying to pull his head away.

“Once I get it out of your face I will, now hold still!” She snapped, making him face forward.

“Did you do this to dad?”

“When we were training yes.” She answered, cutting Telemachus hair out of his face. “Until he learned to put it up himself.”

“Okay okay okay!” He got up and shook the hair off him.

“Why do I even try?” Athena signed setting the scissors down. “You should head out now. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked her.

Athena shook her head, “go on ahead without me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The young prince nodded and ran out to the dining room to meet up with his parents. He ran in there and plopped down beside Odysseus, who had just figured out where all his clothes had gone. “Morning father!” He said brightly.

“Morning.” Odysseus replied looking at his son’s clothes. Penelope was across from Telemachus, trying not to laugh at her husband who was trying to find the right words to address this. Telemachus noticed both the strange smiles on his parents faces and got confused. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just surprised my old wardrobe fits you.”

Telemachus was a bit confused by the comments until he remembered that he was in fact wearing his father’s clothes. The boys face turned bright red with embarrassment and he practically shot out of his seat, apologizing over and over again to his father and saying his go change. Odysseus grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“My son you have no reason to apologize.” The old king said patting his son on the back. “Im glad to see you have my same taste in style.” Telemachus buried his face in his hands at his father’s teasing.

“He actually started wearing them to be closer to you.” Penelope told her husband whose face lit up in awe.

“Awwwww really?” Odysseus beamed, putting an arm around his son. “That’s really sweet my boy.” Telemachus buried his head in his father’s hair, his face beat red with embarrassment. It didn’t help when Odyssues made the comment about needing a whole new wardrobe since it seemed a little owl had nicked his. “So is this a new thing or?” Odyssues began to ask.

“No, he’s done this since you left for Troy.” His wife answered, which surprised Odysseus.

“Really?” The king asked, “that long?”

“Yeah. He managed to get a few of your things from your closet, well, Athena unlocked it and let him go nuts.” The Queen explained. “And both her and I made smaller versions of your closet until he grew into your normal ones.”

“Ofc Athena had an hand in this.” Odysseus thought to himself. “Please tell me you kept those, cause I would love to see them.”

“Ofc I did.” She smiled.

“Yes!” Odysseus cheered.

Penelope smiled at her boys. Odysseus who was very excited and Telemachus who was an embarrassed mess. “You two are so cute.”

@platinumink

[happyfoolz]

happy new year. — cyj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn!reader

content: fluff, best friends to ?

warnings: swearing, some pining, yn is a little drunk

word count: 3k

a/n: i wrote this literally 3 years ago and never posted it so uh. happy new year i guess!

taglist (click to join): @ashxxgyu @hydroqenbreaths

Looking back, your year wasn’t too bad. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but perfection doesn’t exist, anyway. Would you change anything if you could? Who knows? It’s not like you can go back and do it, so you prefer not to think about it too much.

The New Year’s Eve party is kind of loud, there’s too many people. Usually you wouldn’t be caught dead in such an event, but Yeonjun always knew how to work his way around you. It was hard saying no to him when he knew just how to convince you. You tried to, you really tried, but he gave you those puppy eyes — or should you say Shrek’s Puss in Boots eyes? — and you couldn’t help but give in. 

So you dressed up, put on your best cologne and let your best friend help you to ensure you looked good before going to Kang Taehyun’s house. You’ve always heard he was the best party thrower, and you’re not surprised to know the rumors are true. The music is nice, just as much as the food and the drinks. The atmosphere is very inviting to anyone who likes that kind of thing, and although you’re not one for loud parties, you still try to make yourself comfortable. You’ve already greeted many people, and even danced shyly for a while, but your social battery was far from lasting as long as Yeonjun’s. By now, your best friend has disappeared in a sea of people, and you know he’ll eventually find his way back to you, but you won't stand awkwardly beside him like a shadow for the rest of the night. Yeonjun is a true party person, he enjoys being surrounded by people. He might even find someone he could spend the night with, and you don’t wanna be in his way. You’d never cockblock him, would you?

All of that’s why you end up consuming one too many drinks, just enough to leave you a tiny little itty bitty bit tipsy. See, you don’t really like the strong taste of alcohol, but Taehyun had so many options to appeal to everyone’s personal taste, and you found yourself a nice sparkling wine that was perfectly sweet and did wonders to your taste buds, so you might have had a little more than you should’ve. 

You’re not drunk, you know you’re not. At least you think so. You’re still 100% conscious, you know exactly what you’re doing and where you’re going, but it’s kind of hard to keep your balance. Every time you move, you feel like you might fall over, so you tread carefully toward the balcony. 

The sky looks nice, the stars are in full display — not a single cloud to ruin the picture. Though the snow is no longer falling down, you can see the white coat it has created over the entire town. It’s quite the view. Peaceful, comfortable. The cold doesn’t bother you at all as you get distracted, admiring everything there is to see.

You still have a glass of sparkling wine in your hand, and at this point you don’t even know how many you’ve had. But you don’t think too much of it, because you still feel sober enough. Leaning forwards, you prop your elbows on the ledge of the balcony and look down. It’s really high up, but it’s not like you’re going to jump or fall down, so you don’t really feel scared. 

For a moment, you catch your thoughts wandering in Yeonjun's direction. He’s one of the only constant things you have, if not the only one. You've been friends for a while now, longer than you can recall. You actually admire the people who keep track of precisely when their friendship with someone started, because you could never do that. You know there was a time when Yeonjun wasn't there, and then suddenly he was, and you know he waltzed into your life when you were children, maybe pre-teens, but you're not sure of the exact date or even the year when it happened. But he's been there for you for long enough and it feels like it's been a lifetime.

Feeling the cold breeze turning your cheeks red as you admire the snow-covered buildings, you feel thankful for him. Sure, you wouldn’t be at a party if it were completely up to you, but the thing about your best friend is that he always knows when you might just have a good time going somewhere, and when you might not. He never really forces you to go anywhere with him, but if he feels like it’s gonna be good for you, he’ll try and convince you to be his plus one. And, once again, he was right about this one. Despite not mingling with people for too long, it still feels nice to have a change of setting, be somewhere new. Besides, you know he’ll be right there and take you home as soon as you want to leave, all you need to do is text him, but you don’t feel the need to. 

You’re not sure what time it is, but you’re guessing it’s probably close to midnight. Instead of reaching for your phone to check the clock, you raise your glass to take another sip, and that’s when you hear someone clearing their throat.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough for tonight?” Yeonjun’s playful voice speaks directly to you. He walks up to you, stands right beside you and gently takes the drink from your hand, as if to prevent a tragedy. 

You offer him a lopsided smile. “Not at all. I’m still perfectly fine.”

“Mhm. How many glasses have you had so far?” He seems to be having fun with the sight of you, for some reason. You narrow your eyes and tilt your head back, looking at the sky as you try to mentally count the number of times you’ve gone for a refill. After a few seconds of silence, Yeonjun chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“No, I swear it wasn’t that many! I’m okay, I’m completely sober.” You insist and he raises an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” He grins, and for some reason, you catch yourself looking at the shape of his lips as if it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Maybe it is. Yeonjun has always been a handsome guy, and in the past few years he’s gotten more attractive. His features have become less juvenile, more mature. He always gets heads turning whenever he walks into a room, and you're not oblivious to how good he looks.

As soon as you notice where your mind’s going, you shake those thoughts away. “Yeah, look, I’ll prove it!” You step back from the ledge, trying to think of a way to show him you mean what you’re saying.

You end up raising your left leg, standing on the other and trying to keep your balance — which is probably not a good idea, considering you’re tipsy — as you start counting. Yeonjun still looks entertained, like he’s holding back his laughter and just waiting for your arms to start flailing around. You, on the other hand, can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks under the moonlight, with the dim light of the tall lamp set outside also illuminating his face.

You lose your balance as soon as that thought crosses your mind again, swaying helplessly for an instant. Thankfully, Yeonjun has quick reflexes, so before you know it, he has already put the glass down on the ledge and come to rescue you in his arms, preventing you from falling flat on your face.

“Pff, yeah, totally sober. You’re the most sober person in the entire world right now.” He scoffs, while still firmly holding you. 

You hold on to his arms and stay still for a moment. The sudden movement made you feel dizzier than you already were a few seconds ago, so you need to stabilize yourself before moving. 

He notices it and brings you closer, tilting his head in an attempt to look at your face. “You okay?” 

Being so close to him, you can smell his cologne. It’s nice, not too strong, and it smells like… comfort. You’ve known him for way too long, and that’s the smell of warm hugs, soft smiles and playful light punches. It’s the smell of home. 

Fuck, where are these thoughts coming from now? You start giggling to yourself like a child, and that makes a smile replace the worrisome look that was on his face just now.

And damn, you keep getting distracted by his smile. You’re not the religious type, but if there’s a God up there, you’re certain He took his sweet time designing Yeonjun’s smile Himself, making sure it would look as heavenly as humanly possible. You get so fixated on his smile you don’t even notice your giggles slowly fading, giving space for a dumbstruck face.

“Jesus, you are drunk.” He comments, and in return you slap his arm, coming out of your moment of daze.

“I’m not! I’m just a little tipsy, it’s fine. Thank you for saving me, though.” You smile awkwardly and stand up straight once again, letting go of his protective embrace, though you don’t want to. You immediately miss his arms as soon as you leave them.

“Let’s slow down on the alcohol for now, alright? Don’t make me carry you home, you’re supposed to be the responsible, reliable friend here.” Despite the playful tone, you know he’s actually just worrying about your well-being. He knows you’re not used to drinking too much and doesn’t want you to end up sick or passed out on a couch.

You nod in agreement and lean on the ledge once again, silently staring at the view. You need some air, you need to stop focusing so much on Yeonjun’s features and qualities. 

But he settles by your side and your head automatically lies on his shoulder.

“They’re gonna start the countdown soon, that’s why I was looking for you. We only have a few minutes left.” He says quietly after a moment of silence. You can still hear the party behind you, everyone’s being incredibly loud, so you appreciate the fact that your best friend is right there with you. 

Yeonjun is usually loud and rowdy, the life of the party, always ready to dance for hours and joke around. Everyone loves him, everyone fawns over him, he’s a real social butterfly, but nobody knows him as well as you do. This other side of him is reserved exclusively to a few lucky people, and you’re one of them. It’s a quieter, gentler side, one that’s calm and soft and sweet. He’s just standing there with you, staring at nothing and everything in front of his eyes, because he knows you appreciate little moments like that, and he doesn’t want you to be alone out there.

“Do you wanna go back inside?” You ask, hoping for a negative response. Particularly, you’d much rather stay there with him. Out of all the people at that party, he is the only one you want to be with when the year finally comes to an end.

“Only if you want to. I’m cool with staying here with you.” He doesn’t raise his voice, as if the two of you are sharing secrets right now.

“Okay.”

You don’t feel like going back inside at all. It’s better to stay there, because if you go back, he’ll probably be taken away from you. Too many people want him around, and you feel like you should be the one beside him once the clock strikes twelve.

“Jjunie.” You call for him and he hums. “What’s gonna be your New Year wish?”

He chuckles and pushes you lightly. “C’mon, you know you’re not supposed to tell your wishes or they won’t come true.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look at him. “Oh. That rule’s valid for New Year wishes too?”

Still smiling, he nods. “It’s valid for any type of wish, isn’t it?” His hand reaches up to delicately rub his thumb between your eyes, smoothing out your skin. The gesture makes you raise your gaze to his face, looking in his eyes for a moment. “Wrinkles.” He’s always telling you you’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep doing that with your face, so that single word is already a good enough explanation.

You’re used to his touches, but you’re still feeling lightheaded and that seems to be affecting your judgement. It doesn’t help that he seems to get just as distracted by you as you are by him right now. His hand lingers in place for a few seconds, because the two of you are staring at each other’s eyes, not saying a word, and you’re so close to each other. It’s like the cold finally froze both of you in place, and neither of you could move.

“You’re staring.” He’s the first one to break the silence, but not the eye contact.

“You too.” Your gaze falls to his plump lips, which look way too tempting right now for your own good. 

He seems to take notice of that, because the corner of his mouth tilts up in a more discreet smile. His hand finally moves again, gently holding your chin between his fingers so that he can slightly move it up, trying to capture your eyes with his once again, and you feel something stirring inside of you as soon as your gaze meets his.

“Did you find anyone to be your New Year’s kiss tonight?” Your curiosity strikes, because you don’t wanna think about him kissing anyone else. He’s already there with you, might as well follow the tradition. That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it?

He chuckles, but his eyes are still staring at you intently. “Don’t know yet. Did you?”

You feel brave enough to put your hands on his waist, as a sign that you want to keep him close just like that, and neither of you tries to move your faces away from each other. “Maybe.”

And then the countdown starts. You can hear the people inside excitedly chanting out the numbers, but the two of you don’t move an inch.

Ten. You think back to when you were teenagers and you had the biggest crush on the man right in front of you, when he was just a silly nerdy dude. 

Nine. His thumb rubs your cheek.

Eight. You silently recall the number of times people thought the two of you were together, and how you always felt secretly disappointed every time he laughed it off. 

Seven. You tighten your grip around his waist.

Six. You wish you could just hold him close for the rest of the night. He’s always been there for you, through thick and thin, and tonight something seems to have clicked in your head, but you still can’t put your finger on it.

Five. He lets out another chuckle, quieter this time.

Four. “Y/N.” He calls your name in a whisper.

Three. You stare at his lips once again.

Two. “Will you kiss me?” You whisper back.

One. He leans closer to you, lips ghosting over yours, without really touching them.

Happy new year.

He hesitates for an instant, but then tilts your head just enough and leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Happy new year.” He looks into your eyes again, with a soft smile on his face.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to understand what just happened. Oh, shit, did you just embarrass yourself?

“Oh, um– Happy new year.” You step back, suddenly regaining the consciousness you seem to have lost just a moment ago. “Maybe I should…” You point to the door and try to move that way. 

Did you just honestly ask your best friend to kiss you? And then got a kiss on your forehead? Maybe you should've actually jumped off that ledge after all.

Still, before you can move, he holds onto your forearm. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Um, well, we– I just. I mean, uh… This is kinda awkward, isn't it?” You scratch the back of your head.

“Is it? Doesn’t have to be…” He doesn’t seem to follow your train of thought.

“Well, I thought you were, um–”

“About to kiss you? I was.” He cuts you off with an amused grin.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious of him. Before you can say anything, he puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer.

“C’mon, Y/N. You don’t know how badly I wanna do this right now.” He sounds half amused, half frustrated.

“Do it, then?” You can’t understand what’s holding him back.

“I gladly would, but you had to go and drink your ass off tonight, of all nights. Now I can’t kiss you without knowing whether you actually want this or not,” he reasons. “I mean, what if you regret it later? As far as I know, this might be just you being drunk.”

You scrunch your nose. You want to be mad at him, but he’s so fucking precious right now, not wanting to kiss you when you’re not 100% sober because he cares about your consent. 

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry for respecting you, I guess?” He replies and you laugh quietly.

“Whatever. Fucking loser," you tease him. "Sleep over at my place and kiss me in the morning, then. How about that?” You suggest and he nods.

"I like the sound of that," he agrees, and you wish you could kiss that adorable smile off his face.

“Can you at least hold me for now?” As soon as you whine, he wraps his arms around you, bringing your body against his own and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“Always.”

And though you can’t kiss him tonight, you spend the rest of the night clinging onto him, letting him drown your senses with his presence. Once you get home, you innocently share a bed with him and fall asleep holding his hand, anxiously waiting for the next morning, and not willing to let him go this time.

if you liked this fic, please consider reblogging and leaving some feedback as it motivates me to keep writing!

[please don't repost or translate without permission]

[sunshineandlyrics]

💨 Louis disappearing under the stage after his barricade run while everyone wondered where he went.

Silver Tongues, Pinkpop Festival, Netherlands, 22 June 2024.

[ryllen]

i thought / m a n / these girls are quite heartless 🤣 when i accepted the quest at /clearly/ inconvenient time to swim & dive

[neverendingford]

.

[gu6chan]

Your post about The Most American Sandwhich just made me imagine Leonard as an American... Leonard scuttling about at a Walmart parking lot, trying to fit all the food he bought in the trunk (enough to hermit away for the next few weeks begote he has to restock again)

this is a bit late but this has me WAILING........ american leonard, what groceries will he buy........ do you think he would treat him also to The Most American Sandwich

now introducing: the U.P's youngest resident

also during the process of scribbling in his hoodie i looked at it and almost started crying

[obsesssedblerd]

“Oh, Nanaminnnn!” 

At the familiar, cheery voice, Kento looks up to see no one other than Satoru Gojo, leaning against the doorframe of his office with his usual grin. “Saw with my Six Eyes that you came to fill out those reports here instead of doing it from home. Been so long since you showed your face here and—” He cuts himself off with an excited gasp, then walks closer as his smile grows wider. “You brought my little mochi!”

In Kento’s left arm, his daughter—who had woken up from her nap about ten minutes ago—coos excitedly when Satoru enters her vision, reaching her hands towards him. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” He slides his hands under her plush arms, then picks her up, skillfully—and safely, Kento notes—holding her in his arms. Tiny hands brush against Satoru’s blindfold, and he lifts it so his niece can see his blue eyes. They immediately soften when the baby girl laughs when he gently tickles her tummy. 

It’s so cute that Kento can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting. 

“Wait—Did I hear that right?! Nanamin’s here?!” 

“Itadori, wait for us!” 

“Kugisaki, you dropped your bag—Oh, come on, guys, slow down!” 

Rapid footsteps approach, then the three first years appear at the door, gasping in unison. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Yuuji, the pink-haired teenager shouts as he points at the baby in Satoru’s arms. “Nanamin, when did you have a baby?!” 

Nobara’s question comes a split-second after Yuuji’s is finished. “Is that why [Y/L/N]-sensei quit a while ago?!” 

Megumi walks to stand beside Satoru to analyze the little bundle in his teacher’s arms. “She’s… adorable.” He mumbles, gently smiling when she wraps her hand around his finger. “Very adorable. She has [Y/L/N]-sensei’s laugh.”

“Isn’t she just so precious?” Satoru asks, proudly showing her off to the first years. “So sweet and friendly, just like her Uncle Gojo.” 

“Hopefully she won’t be as reckless as you,” Kento says as he holds his hands out, and Satoru returns his daughter to him. “[Y/N] and I already believe that she’ll be the exact opposite of me.” 

Yuuji sits beside Kento to get a closer look at her. “She’s so cute. How old is she, Nanamin?” 

“Four months as of yesterday.” 

Nobara crosses her arms and pouts. “How come only he knew?” She asks, gesturing to Satoru. 

“Well, when I had to go away on a long mission, she was only a month old,” Kento explains. “He kept an eye on her and [Y/N] for me; made sure that they were both safe. I’m very grateful. We had plans to tell you about our daughter soon.” 

“Where is she now?” Megumi asks. 

“At home. I wanted her to have the morning and most of the afternoon to herself. I’ll be heading back shortly.” 

Satoru and the students share similar looks with each other, and Kento knows what they want to ask. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. “Hi, baby,” you greet when the line connects, “how’s our girl?” 

“Hi, love. She’s amazing, as always,” he says as he looks down, playfully poking the little one’s nose. “I’m with Gojo and our students. They want to know if it’s alright to come and see you.” 

“We’ll cook dinner if you’re too tired!” Nobara chimes in hopefully.

“Actually, better yet, I can just order something for everyone,” Satoru suggests. 

“And we’ll clean up,” Yuuji and Megumi say at the same time. 

You laugh, then answer Kento, “That’s more than alright. Bring them here.” 

“Thought you’d say that. See you in a bit.” 

“Yes!” Yuuji cheers. “Alright, I’m gonna ride with Nanamin so I can sit next to the baby!” 

Nobara glares at him. “Not if I get to the car first!!” 

When they sprint out the door, Megumi groans before rushing after them. “Didn’t I just tell you guys to slow down? We’re going to the same place!” 

Satoru laughs, then waits for Kento to finish up so they can walk out together. 

—

there was an ask in my inbox requesting a cute drabble for dad! nanami ft. gojo (as a trusted friend of his) and the first years, but it disappeared. hope u like it, anon <3 

[scorpiosbite]

the time actress!reader mentioned obx in her interview

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── while the obx cast were together in drew’s hotel room madelyn in her ever obsession of game of thrones brought up that you had mentioned how much you love obx in an interview. causing them to watch the interview together.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 and 3 weeks after the first time they watched the show together. at this point of my timeline the cast have watched the entire first season of game of thrones.

drew was scrolling through his phone, you had followed him back on instagram a week ago and he was on the moon. though he hadn’t messaged you yet. unsure on what to say to you. drew prided himself on being a confident man yet, your ability to make him nervous through a screen was unprecedented.

while stalking your profile for the umpteenth time he found himself wondering about you yet again. your limited amount of posts made you even more intriguing to him. he wondered what kind of person you are. what things made you tick, whether you would stare up at him with those siren eyes, whether you moaned or whimpered during sex, whether your face scrunched up and your mouth hung open as your chest heaved like it did in your sex scene that hasn’t left his brain since the moment he watched it.

just as he fell into a spiral of thoughts about you madelyn spoke up from her seat across the room, drawing the attention of everyone else, and drew was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone in his room. “oh my fucking god! i forgot to tell you guys!” she was staring down at her phone. but drew was having trouble focusing on her, still consumed in his thoughts of you.

the others, however, had no problem driving their attention to her, so drew remained in his bubble staring at the most recent post on your profile, a vogue magazine cover from three months ago, of you, seated, legs spread on the iron throne with the sword dark sister held in your hands standing between your legs, the crown of aegon the conquerer tilted on your head, the lace thigh high socks with garters disappearing under the skirt of your tight mini dress and the bold red coating your lips enticing him further.

it wasn’t till he heard your name slip from madelyn’s lips, was his attention torn from the captivating sight on his screen. “wait, what you just say?” madelyn smirked “of course, only when i say y/n’s name, do you listen.” drew blushed lightly. but didn’t make the move to defend himself, after all they would be right, he had been distracted from the moment he saw you in all your glory stealing the screen.

“what i was saying that y/n mentioned obx in an interview, just pass me the remote, i’ll show you.” drew’s heart rate spiked, the thought of you having seen him in his element, doing his job, made him self conscious in a way that he wasn’t ready to admit. once madelyn had the video loaded on the screen, drew was once again struck by how effortlessly beautiful you are. dressed in simple black pants and an off-shoulder cream long sleeve top, brown boots disappearing under your pants and simple gold hoop earrings, your brunette hair loose and following in natural waves. drew looked at your empty neck and thought how good you would look if there was a necklace with his initial hanging there, branding you as his.

madelyn skipped through the video until the moment you were talking. the interviewer asked you and your cast-mate what shows you watch during your down time when filming, your voice rang through the silent room and drew was struck once again by how attractive your accent sounded, your british accent deep and sultry but more casual than the tone you use when playing visenya. “oh, well mimi and i love outer banks a lot, to the point where we quote it on set quite often. i think we’ve annoyed everyone.” you laughed and drew thought about how he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

your cast mate and best friend, mimi who plays arianne martell laughed and agreed and the interviewer who was surprised by your answer said that obx was one of her favourite shows too. your face immediately brightened as you watched her intently as she spoke about the show. what drew would give to have you look at him like that.

madelyn paused the video and drew knew that once everyone had left his room he was going to watch the entire video. “that’s so cool!” jd gasped. “i know right? that’s so crazy that she’s seen our show.” madison replied. but drew couldn’t bring himself to speak, he wondered what you thought of him after watching his performance. he wondered if you had the same all consuming thoughts he had about you, about him.

“i followed her when i first watched the show and she followed me back, but after seeing that clip a week ago i messaged her and we’ve been talking back and forth ever since, she’s so fucking cool, it’s insane. i think we’re friends now!” madelyn raved. “you’re friends with her?!.” drew was baffled, how was madelyn just bringing this up, she has known about his developing crush for weeks. “ah, now you want to chime in drew?” “yes, we’re friends and she’s gonna be in la when we get back so i told her she should come hang out with us, what you guys think?”

drew’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, he was gonna meet you. what the fuck.

thank you for all the love on the first part i’m so grateful. and for everyone who wants to be added to the tag list i’m figuring out how to do that so please be patient with me. also please send me asks about this au i would love to do like a drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts thing, but let me know what you thought of this part!

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[rafesslxt]

slytherin boys hc realizing they were to rough after an argument and comforting you?😭🙏

thank u for requesting, have fun reading <3

✧.*𝑺𝑳𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 | 𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 + 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾

characters: mattheo riddle, tom riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy

warnings: fighting, arguing, fluff, mention of make up sex, so a bit smut

Mattheo Riddle:

let‘s be honest, he would definetly take a moment to realize he actually hurt your feelings

his pride and stubbornness would be in the way at first

but when he sees the first tears rolling down your cheeks he slowly walks towards you giving your forehead a kiss while hugging you tightly and swiping your tears away with his thumb

"I am so sorry princess, I swear you‘re right. I didn‘t mean it like that, you know that, right? I love you so much I would never want to hurt you on purpose. Can you please talk to me again, baby?"

he would pull you onto his lap and rock you slighty while whispering sweet things into your ear telling you how sorry he is and that it won‘t happen again

Mattheo would just cuddle you for the rest of the night and maybe have make up sex with you If you‘re not too mad at him

"I‘m gonna show you how sorry I am princess." he would be a MUNCH and eat you out, never stopping no matter how sensetive you got.

"Want me to stop? Come on baby, one more just one more I promise." his tounge would flick relentlessly over your clit over and over again, his green ties around your wrists making it hard to protest.

Tom Riddle:

bro would try to manipulate you at first and tell you you‘re overreacting and too sensetive but when you leave the room and don‘t try to reach out to him for a few days..

you got his head spinning

maybe he would wonder why you‘re ignoring him until he remebers your fight which he almost forgot because it was so unimportant to him

i think he would try to get closer to you so you had to talk to him

but when you still wouldn‘t and he notices the hurt in your eyes, he would wrap his arms around you from behind and whisper in your ear how sorry he is

he couldn‘t believe he really spoke these words but you meant too much to him to loose you over an stupid argument he couldn‘t even remember at first

"How difficult was that for you?" you ask when your little frown on your fave disappears and is switched with a smirk. He rolls his eyes and presses you against him, still whispering in your ear.

"Don‘t try your luck too much darling." While his fingers squeeze your sides

100% rough make up sex where he would punish you for not talking to him

"Fuck you think you can just ignore me? Act like I‘m not there?" while he pounds into you from behind, pushing your face down into the pillow.

"What was that darling? Couldn‘t hear you over all the noises you make."

Theodore Nott:

I have a splitted opinion on Theodore to be honest

on one side he would be the sweetest and comfort you right away without thinking twice about it

but on the other hand I also see him giving you a cold shoulder, also too stubborn and ignorant to realize how much he hurt you

but on either side, when he then would notice how you ignore him he would so something romantic to make it up to you

I just see him with a picnic prepared outside at the lake with your favorite snacks and a plushy for you.

"I‘m so sorry cara mia you mean the world to me, I never meant to hurt you. Please let me male it up to you."

After the picnic and you forgiving him he would pin you down, not giving a fuck who would see you If walking mear by

"Theo! Everyone could see!" you struggle against his fingers on your clit. "hmm let them see how sorry I am principessa."

he would pussy your skirt up and eat you out like Mattheo but without the whole overstimulation

when you come for the first time he wouldn‘t hesitate or waste any time to pull down his pants and fuck you next to the lake

"Fuck we should argue more often If that‘s the outcome of it. Me pounding your tight little pussy amore." You would shoot him a glare but moan his name right after, eyes rolling back

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He would be THE sweetest ever

but also he‘s someone who try‘s to stay calm during fights but then when he is really mad, he just explodes without thinking

as soon as he sees the first tear rolling down your face he would walk over to you and hug you so tight you almost couldn‘t breathe.

"God y/n I am so so so so sorry I swear it will never happen again! Shit I‘m so stupid I don‘t even deserve you baby."

when you would forgive him and already forgot about the fight you two had, he couldn‘t stop thinking about it.

he was just so sorry he had to show you somehow so the first thing that came to his mind was buying you something you wanted since forever

a fucking puppy

"Enzo! Oh my god you did nooot!" you said in a whiny tone about to cry from happiness

"No no no princess please don‘t cry I can bring him back If you don‘t – " "What? No!" you take him out of his hands and look down into it‘s cute face "thank you thank you thank you!"

after the day went by and you two got everything you need for your new baby, you wanted to thank your boyfriend

"Oh – fuck yes." he‘d groan while you ride him, bouncing up and down "Bloody hell I‘ll give you a whole damn zoo If that‘s what‘s going to happen after." he says while gripping your hips and fucking right up into your thankful pussy

Draco Malfoy:

he didn‘t know what to do at first, your cold shoulder towards him felt like a knife in his chest even tho he knew he deserved it

he said some things to you in an argument he wasn‘t proud of, too ashamed when he knew you only wanted the best for him

The only thing he knew was showering you in gifts which would work with little things but not this. You wanted him to apologize with real words.

after days of giving you gift after gift he realized for himself that it wasn‘t going to work.

"Darling? Do you have a minute?" he would ask to which you just nod slighty

He would take a deep breath before speaking " I am sorry for what I said. I truly am. And I never should have said that to you or let my frustration out on you I‘m really ashamed of what vame out of my mouth when everything you wanted was just the best mor me."

It felt like a stone fell from his heart after speaking what he had thought for days and your happy face told him it was just what you wanted to hear

"Shit y/n –" he groans when you take him deeper into your mouth, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"Just wait what we‘ll do after that pretty boy." you chuckled before taking him back knto your mouth and sucking him for dear life.

thank u for reading I hope u liked it 🫶🏻

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xoxo sarah <3