#i read this post and i just had to put share my thoughts

[dayasfilms]

Chapter Nine - The Beginning of the End

Summary: You defeated Vecna but Hawkins is left destroyed. Thinking that it’s over, you all soon realize that it’s far from that, and that this was just the beginning of the end.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, blood, death, gore, choking, murder, hospitals, broken bones, mentions of being brain dead and being blind, thoughts of self harm, depression, feeling worthless, mentions of sex, weapons, angst, fluff, heartbreak, crying, insecurity, making out, mentions of menstruation, pregnancy, and children, descriptions of getting naked to shower but nothing happens, surgeries, fire, little bit of changes in the plot but nothing too drastic

Word Count: 12.1k

Note: Reticent is finally finished! Until ST season five releases, this series is done! I had such a fun time writing and sharing all of my ideas with you all. It makes me delighted that so many of you have read this and ended up liking it, it truly warms my heart. I want to say that I will be posting Reticent one shots when I have the time so you can delve deeper into Star’s story. Many of the storylines cannot be integrated in the original series, so these one shots happen outside of the regular timeline. If you would like to read them, you can click on this link or even go back to the main Reticent Series Masterlist below and find them there. Thank you so much for letting me share this story with you all!

Series Masterlist

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Steve parked the RV just outside the trailer park after dropping off Lucas, Erica, and Max. All of you remained inside, gathered around to go over the plan one last time. Standing at the front, your gun and sword secured in their holsters, you faced the group. “Alright. Let’s run through it again. One more time. Phase one.”

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

“Phase two,” you continued.

“Max baits Vecna,” Steve added. “He’ll go after her, which’ll put him in his trance.”

“Phase three?”

“Me and Eddie draw the bats away,” Dustin said with a nod.

“And phase four?” You asked, eyes sweeping the group.

“We head into Vecna’s newly bat-free lair and…flambé,” Robin finished, shaking the bottle in her hand.

You let out a breath, gaze serious. “No one moves to the next phase until we’ve all copied. No one deviates from the plan. No matter what. Got it?”

“Got it,” they echoed in unison.

You all stood and exited the RV, making your way toward Eddie’s trailer. Through the darkness, you slipped inside without any of the neighbors noticing. Steve then flicked on the light and shrugged off his bag.

“Be careful,” Dustin told him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Steve replied, grabbing hold of the rope. He climbed up and disappeared through the gate. A few seconds later, he looked up at them, shrugging with his arms out.

“Woah, what does he want us to do? Applaud?” Robin muttered to you and Nancy. You chuckled softly, unable to help it.

On the other side, Steve dragged a mattress beneath the opening. “Alright, let’s go.” You took off your bag and weapons, tossing it through the gate before grabbing the rope and climbing. The moment your body hit the mattress, Steve reached a hand out to help you stand. “Gotcha.”

His hand lingered on yours. You looked at each other, just for a second, and then you both looked away, releasing your hands. Nancy came next, using Robin’s knee as a boost. She landed with a thud, and you helped her up and away from the gate. One by one, everyone followed, tossing their gear through and climbing after it. Dustin was last, with Steve and Eddie grabbing each side of him, pulling him up.

Once everyone was through, you slung your bag over your shoulder, picked up your weapons, and headed out of the trailer. Just before you left, you and Steve turned back to face Dustin and Eddie.

“Hey, guys, listen,” Steve said seriously, locking eyes with them. “If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna.”

The boys stared back, silent.

“Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just–”

“Decoys,” Dustin finished. “Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve.”

“Absolutely. I mean, look at us,” Eddie said, gesturing between him and Dustin. “We are not heroes.”

Steve gave a short nod. You stepped forward and pulled Dustin into a hug. “Be careful,” you murmured.

“You too,” he said, hugging you tightly.

You and Steve turned to leave when Eddie called the latter out. “Hey, Steve?” Steve glanced back. “Make him pay.”

Steve nodded firmly, falling back into step beside you. You, Steve, Nancy, and Robin walked away together, flashlights sweeping the path ahead as you made your way to the Creel House.

Yasmin, Joyce, and Hopper were inside the dimly lit church, trying to catch their breath from everything they’d just been through. Hopper rummaged through a stack of old boxes tucked in the corner, searching for fresh clothes. After a minute, he found a few pieces that looked somewhat wearable and tossed them onto another box beside him.

He turned to face the two women, holding up a couple of shirts and pants. “Yeah, these were the smallest I could find.”

Yasmin let out a tired sigh and stepped forward, taking the bundle from his hands. There was a coat too, the same kind Hopper had picked for himself. He handed another pair of clothes and a jacket to Joyce. The three of them glanced around the church, eyes scanning for a bit of privacy.

“I think there was a bathroom in there,” Joyce said, nodding her head toward the back of the room.

“You can go, Joyce,” Yasmin offered gently, before motioning to another corner. “I’ll change over there.”

Joyce gave her a grateful smile before heading toward the bathroom. As Yasmin made her way past Hopper, she bumped into him lightly, both of them letting out small, tired laughs. She went behind a shelf, casting a quick glance over her shoulder as Hopper moved to the opposite corner. Then she turned back to the shelf in front of her and began setting the clothes down.

Finally free of the worn, filthy outfit she’d been stuck in for days, Yasmin pulled her shirt and pants off, left in just her undergarments. She exhaled, grateful to breathe without the tightness of fabric clinging to her. She quickly slipped on the new shirt and pants, pulling them up just as she turned and froze at the sight of Hopper.

He was facing away from her, wrapping a bandage around his injured arm. Her eyes fell on the marks covering his back. Her heart clenched in pain.

She stepped toward him, her eyes tracing the scars. “What did they do to you?” Yasmin whispered, her voice trembling. Hopper turned slowly, his back now pressed against the shelf. “Oh my God.”

He gave a small shake of his head, clearly trying to not worry her. “No, it’s not that bad. It’s…” He let out a slow breath. “You know, I needed to lose weight anyway.”

Yasmin frowned, giving him a stern look.

“It’s given me time to think, you know?” He said, eyes moving away from hers. “About who I’ve been…and what I’ve done.” He met her gaze again. “I never should’ve sent you that message.”

“No,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “You didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I knew it’d be dangerous.”

“So did I.” Yasmin’s voice was firm. “I’m glad you sent it. I made the choice to come here, to find you. And I would choose it again, even knowing everything I know now.”

He stared at her, like he still couldn’t believe she was standing there. Yasmin tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile forming on her lips.

“Besides…we have that date to get to. You remember?” She said.

“Remember?” Hopper scoffed, smiling for real now. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it all planned out,” he said with a nod.

Yasmin laughed under her breath. “Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“I’m getting two orders of breadsticks. Two,” he said, pointing a finger. “Those things knock your socks off. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. And when you dip it in olive oil? Forget about it. And for the main course…I’m torn between the veal and the lasagna, but I think I gotta go with lasagna, right?”

She looked at him, half smiling, half aching. “You’ve been dreaming about breadsticks and lasagna?”

He nodded without hesitation. “I’ve been on a diet of watery soup, moldy bread, and maggots, so yeah, I’ve been dreaming about breadsticks and lasagna. I mean, sue me.” She laughed, eyes glimmering. Hopper straightened, stepping closer to her. “Should I have been dreaming about something else?” He asked, voice softer now.

She shrugged, a little breathless. “You tell me.”

“Well…there’s wine.”

“Oh, well, wine’s good,” she said, playing along.

“I was thinking a nice Cheeanti.”

“It’s Chianti,” she corrected.

“Chianti. Right.” He nodded, unbothered. “Then there’s dessert.”

“Of course. Gotta have dessert,” Yasmin said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

There was a pause before she spoke again. “And after that?” She asked, lips barely parting.

Hopper couldn’t help it. He smiled again, wider than he had in months, taking another step until there was no space left between them. “I don’t know.”

“Use your imagination,” she whispered.

“Who needs imagination?”

And then, he finally kissed her. His lips met hers like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, his hands sliding around her waist as she rose to meet him, arms wrapping around his neck. Their laughter tangled between kisses as Hopper accidentally backed into a stack of boxes, nearly knocking them over. They couldn’t stop touching each other. His hands moved to her hair, her fingers cupping his face, and for a second, they drowned out everything around them. They waited too long to have this moment.

Suddenly, the phone rang. They broke apart, groaning in irritation and half out of breath. Then they realized that the call could be from them. Hopper immediately pulled away and rushed toward the phone, Yasmin staying behind, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“Remember, they’re listening!” She told him sharply as he picked it up.

The four of you continued through the woods, but the longer you walked, the more unsure you became about your direction. The worry about getting lost crept in your mind. Robin seemed to be thinking the same.

“Uh…I don’t mean to freak anyone out, but I swear we’ve seen this tree before,” Robin said nervously, pointing.

“That’s impossible,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

“That would suck, right?” Robin muttered. “If Vecna destroyed the world because…because we got lost in the woods?”

“We’re not lost, Robin,” Nancy assured her, walking up behind. “Robin, hey. Watch out for the vines! Hive mind!”

“Careful, Robin!” You called, watching the two girls ahead. You stayed beside Steve, your eyes drifting to the ground as you tried to find something to say.

“Don’t worry about her,” Steve said. “She’s just stressed. You know, scared.”

You gave a small chuckle. “Yeah. Believe me, I know the feeling. It’s just…”

“She’s a super klutz?” He asked with a grin.

You tilted your head, amused. “She did tell Nancy and I that it took her longer than most babies to learn how to walk, so…”

Steve laughed. “I really shouldn’t laugh. When I was a baby, I actually crawled backwards.”

You blinked. “What? Crawled backwards? Why am I just now hearing about this?”

“Yep,” he said. “You know, I’d push with my hands like this.” He motioned forward with his palms. “Beep, beep. Always in reverse, you know?” You stared at him, lips parted in disbelief. “Come on, it makes sense,” he insisted. “You push to move, right?”

“No,” you said, laughing. “No, it absolutely doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, it did to my tiny little Harrington brain. That is, until I reversed my baby butt down a flight of stairs and thumped my head really good.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh my God. That explains so much.”

“Yeah. I think it kinda does.” He gave you a sheepish smile. “I think, like, right out of the gate, like, I’m super confident. But I’m also, like, an idiot. Which is just…I mean, it’s a brutal combination.”

You frowned. “You’re not an idiot, Steve. Don’t say that.”

He chuckled, softer this time. “Nah, I definitely am. But, I mean, the good news is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. I can crawl forward.” He slowed, turning slightly toward you. “Listen, I guess what I’m trying to say in a really stupid, roundabout way is, um…is thank you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Thank me?”

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

“For giving my head the biggest thump of its life two years ago.”

You paused, the memory hitting you at once. The Halloween party, the bathroom, the words you said when you revealed the reason why you ended things with him in the first place. Steve had never forgotten. Neither did you.

He started walking again, and you followed. “I needed it. It’s changed my life. And now I’m crawling forward. Slowly.”

Your chest tightened. He still remembered. He still thought about it.

“I just wonder sometimes…you know, if some other girl had given me a proper thump before we’d met, would things have been different?” He turned his entire body to look at you again. “Like, if we were meeting together for the first time right now, part of me…I dunno, part of me thinks we would’ve made it.”

You felt the heat rise in your chest, heart pounding. His words made your throat close up. You couldn’t move, eyes locked onto him. “Steve…”

“Remember the dream I told you about?” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “About the Winnebago? Seeing the country with my six little nuggets?”

You nodded slowly, a small smile forming.

He smiled too. “It’s all true. Every last word. But I left one part out. It’s the most important part.” He stepped closer, his voice soft. “You’re there. You’ve always been there.”

Your breath caught. You could feel the words rising in your throat, but they wouldn’t come out. You just stood there, stunned. “Steve…I–”

“Hey, guys!” Robin’s voice cut through the moment. “Awesome news! Looks like we weren’t going the wrong way after all!”

Nancy stood beside her, watching the two of you carefully. Her gaze lingered on you, noticing how you stared down at your boots. “Let’s go,” Nancy said, turning away.

Robin took off running, prompting Steve to shout. “Robin! Slow down!”

You and Steve followed, walking in silence. As you made your way to the Creel House, your mind was still back in that moment, still playing his words over and over again. You’d have to talk to him later. If you all even made it out alive.

You reached the edge of the woods, your eyes landing on the old house in the distance. The blue tinted sky flashed with red, and the air was filled with high-pitched screeching. As you turned your head, you caught sight of the playground, its lights flickering.

“Erica…” Steve breathed out.

You rushed toward the playground, giving Erica the signal that you had arrived. Now all you could do was wait for the next phase.

It didn’t take long for Erica to speak. “Okay, the lovebirds have copied. Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna.”

“So far, so smooth,” Robin said nervously.

“Yeah, we’re not even at the hard part yet,” Steve replied.

Your gaze shifted back to the house, brows furrowed. “Take the bait, you son of a bitch,” you mumbled to yourself, thinking about Max. “Take the damn bait.”

Then Erica’s voice came through again. “Okay, she’s in. Initiate phase three.” Your chest tightened. Max was in the trance again, under Vecna’s spell. You had to get this done as soon as possible.

Robin quickly radioed Dustin and Eddie. “She’s in. Move on to phase three.”

“Copy that. Initiating phase three,” Dustin answered. Soon, the distant noise of metal music filled the air, and you saw the bats swarming toward it, away from the house.

“Okay, it’s working. Let’s go,” Nancy said.

The four of you stood up and moved toward the house. You led the way, the music growing louder with each step. Screeches from the bats echoed in the night as they went toward the sound. Steve picked up his pace until he was walking beside you. The two of you reached the front door, and he pushed it open. Your breath caught. Vines covered nearly every inch of the house’s interior.

“Oh shit,” Steve muttered. “That’s not good.”

You exchanged a look with him. He gave you a quick nod, then began hopping in the small spaces between the vines. You turned to check on Nancy and Robin. Robin was trembling.

Nancy reached for her hand. “It’s okay. You got this.”

Robin met her eyes, still unsure. You stepped back towards her and gently took Robin’s other hand. “Don’t worry. We’re here with you.”

Robin gave you both a small, grateful smile and nodded. You all turned back to face the vines, stepping carefully through the little gaps. The stairs were the worst, with it being completely covered. You tried to control your breathing as you made your way up, dodging all the vines.

At the top, Steve reached out to help pull you up. You took his hand, letting him steady you. He helped the others too, and soon all four of you stood at the top. Your eyes went straight to the attic door. Vecna was in there, no doubt in a trance. You glanced between your friends, preparing yourselves. One by one, you drew your weapons, your hand tightening around your shotgun.

But before you could move, the entire house began to shake violently. Steve and Nancy grabbed your arms on either side as the floor shook beneath you and all four of you tumbled back.

After a long minute, the ground stilled. You scrambled upright, your breaths ragged.

Then, suddenly, a vine wrapped around Robin’s ankle. Her eyes went wide with terror. She was pulled backward and slammed into the wall. Vines surged forward, wrapping around her legs, arms, and throat, pinning her in place.

“Steve! Y/N! Nancy!” She screamed, her voice cracking.

You and Nancy jumped forward, smashing your shotguns into the vines to break them off. Steve swung his axe, cutting into them, but another vine wrapped around his weapon, ripping it from his hands and pulling him to the other wall. He struggled to retrieve it when one coiled tightly around his throat and slammed him into the wall. More vines followed, pinning his limbs.

Nancy cried out as she was struck next, thrown across the floor before being slammed against the wall beside Robin. Vines constricted around her limbs and throat just as fast.

Your heart pounded in terror as a vine wrapped around your ankle, throwing you off your feet. Your shotgun flew out of your hands as you were dragged across the floor. You fought to get free, clawing at the ground.

Reaching behind you, you grabbed your sword and swung it blindly. The blade sliced through the vine, freeing you. But before you could get up, another vine tied around your arm and slammed you against the wall beside Steve. Your head hit hard against the surface, pain exploding at the same exact spot you’ve hit so many times, already aching and throbbing.

The vines continued to twist around your arms and legs, locking you in place. One tightened around your neck, choking you. You tried to fight it, but it was no use. Your airway was cut off. You felt yourself slipping, darkness creeping in as your vision blurred.

You weren’t ready. You still had to finish Vecna, you had to save Max. You still had so many things you wanted to say to everyone. So many unspoken words to the people you loved. But your chances of surviving this felt terrifyingly slim.

“You shut off this fence, right?” Hopper asked, glancing between Yasmin, Joyce, and Murray as they stepped into the prison yard.

“Yeah,” Joyce replied with a nod.

“Good,” Hopper said, turning to face them. “So you can turn it back on again.”

Murray chuckled dryly, throwing his arms up. “Jim, you wanna clue us in on what you’re thinking here, or are we supposed to read your mind?”

Hopper looked around the empty yard, jaw clenched. “This pit was designed to trap monsters. We get ‘em in here, we lock it up, we rain fire from above, and we hope to hell that gives El, Y/N, and the others an upper hand.”

They had already snuck back into the prison, only to find everything destroyed. The tanks that once held the frozen creatures were shattered, glass littering the ground. Most of the Russian guards were dead.

One guard had been barely clinging to life, long enough to warn them that the shadow had entered the creatures, making them come alive. They’d watched the surveillance monitors in horror, seeing the demogorgons stalking the halls. The monsters had already killed the rest of the guards. There was no one left. They knew there was only one thing left to do to help everyone back at home.

“Okay,” Murray said, nodding slowly. “I’m with ya, except the whole, uh…‘getting them all in here’ part.”

“It’s a hive mind,” Hopper explained. “You draw one, you draw ‘em all.” He tossed a flamethrower to Joyce, the second already in Murray’s hands. Then he pointed at both of them. “You two are the grill masters.”

He turned to Yasmin next. Her brow was furrowed with confusion.

“And you,” he said. “You’re the jailer. Get that fence turned on. Once they’re all in here, lock the door behind ‘em.”

Yasmin didn’t move. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She had a feeling about what he was going to do, but she didn’t want to say out loud. “What about you?” She asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m the bait.”

The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She could barely breathe. She followed him silently back toward the security room, where the monitors and gate controls were. Her stomach twisted. Her throat burned. The only thought echoing in her head was that he was going to lure the demogorgons himself.

Hopper pointed to one of the monitors. “That one there,” he said. “See him? In the laundry room? It’s not far from here. He’s all alone. He’s our target.”

Yasmin couldn’t move. All she could think about was the people she lost. Her daughter was gone. She lost Hopper months ago in the mall. She had survived that grief once, barely. Now she had him back. And she had you after her daughter. She couldn’t do it again.

“Hey,” Hopper said softly, pulling her back. His hands landed on her shoulders. “I’m gonna die someday. But not today.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I’ve still got a date to make. Remember?”

He was trying to keep it light, but nothing about this felt light. Yasmin shook her head, her voice shaky. “I don’t know, Hop,” she whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his hand rising to cup her cheek. “This time,” he said, his voice certain. “It’s gonna be different.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, eyes slipping shut. “It better be,” she whispered. Then she opened them, locking her gaze with his. “Because I am not having another funeral.”

He kissed her then, softly, telling her that it would be okay. And when he pulled away, Yasmin was still holding her breath, praying that this time would be different.

Yasmin stayed glued to the monitor, barely breathing as she watched Hopper head down the corridor, searching for the demogorgon he’d chosen to target. Her fists clenched at her sides. Every second felt too long. She saw him come to a stop, whistling to get the creature’s attention. The demogorgon let out a low growl before chasing him.

Her heart climbed into her throat. She kept watching, unable to look away. He ran, dodging into different hallways, trying to keep his distance, but she knew he could only keep it up for so long. She glanced around the security room in a panic, eyes falling on the taser prods hanging on the wall. Without hesitation, she grabbed one and bolted out the door, the grip of the weapon tight in her hand as her boots pounded against the floor.

Her breath was heavy as she turned a corner, praying she wasn’t too late, and then she saw them. The demogorgon had Hopper pinned, mouth split open and ready to feast. He was using everything in him to close its mouth.

She ran at full speed, raising the taser and jamming it into the creature’s side, electricity crackling as it screamed in pain. The demogorgon thrashed once and then collapsed.

Hopper stood up, chest heaving as he looked at her with wide eyes, relief flooding his face. “Yasmin,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

Thudding footsteps echoed through another corridor. They were loud and heavy, and they were getting closer to them. They both turned at the same time, eyes landing on the wave of demogorgons charging toward them. Hopper immediately grabbed her hand and ran, pulling her down the hall and into the open prison yard. He used his shotgun to shoot at them, trying to slow the creatures down.

But the monsters were still right behind them, they were too fast. They went into the closest cell, Hopper slamming the door shut just as the creatures reached them. His arms wrapped tightly around her, both of them bracing for impact as the gate was broken away.

One of the demogorgons roared and stepped through, snarling and ready to kill. Yasmin froze, her entire body going numb. This was it. They were going to die.

“HEY, ASSHOLES!”

Murray’s voice rang out and the demogorgons paused, heads snapping up toward the sound. Flames burst across the yard as Murray and Joyce opened fire with their flamethrowers, lighting up everything in sight. Hopper pulled Yasmin to him, shielding her away from the heat. The demogorgons screeched, burning as the fire consumed them, one by one.

As soon as the last bit of hope slipped from your mind, you felt the vines release you. All four of you dropped to the ground, gasping for air. You coughed harshly, bringing a trembling hand to your throat, trying to ease the soreness as your chest heaved with every breath.

“I don’t believe in a higher power or divine intervention,” Robin croaked, her voice rough from the pressure on her throat. “But that was a miracle.”

You grabbed your weapons, sliding your sword into the holster on your back as you held your shotgun tight in your hand. You turned toward the door, your body still shaking. “Then we better not waste it.”

“Phase four,” Steve said under his breath.

“Flambé,” Robin added.

You walked into the attic, your eyes locked on Vecna who was in his trance just like you’d hoped. Robin lit the bottle in Steve’s hand, and without wasting a second more, threw it straight toward the monster. The flames immediately engulfed Vecna’s body. His eyes snapped open, his scream echoing through the room as he fell to the floor.

Thousands of miles away, there was still another monster. After Joyce and Murray lit all the remaining demogorgons in time, they all turned into a blob, the fire sizzling out on the prison field. Smoke thickened the air as Hopper and Yasmin exited the cell, both of them shaking. But Yasmin’s eyes caught onto another demogorgon that was still moving. It staggered to its feet, injured but alive, a low growl coming from its mouth. She also noticed a sword a few feet away from Hopper’s feet.

Before he could reach for it, Yasmin stepped forward and grabbed it herself. Hopper paused, looking at her, but her eyes were on the creature. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger burning beneath her skin. She had enough of this.

Back in the Creel House, Vecna let out another cry as Robin lit the second bottle and threw it, more flames burning him. You and Nancy raised your shotguns, stepping forward. The two of you fired in sync, bullets tearing into Vecna’s chest, the force knocking him back. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He locked eyes with you both, and you didn’t hesitate to fire again, making him scream in pain.

Yasmin slid forward, the sword slicing through one of the demogorgon’s arms. It roared and stumbled but didn’t stop. It swiped at her with its remaining arm, but she ducked, spinning low to the ground before slashing again, this time cutting off the creature’s leg. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn’t flinch.

Nancy stepped back and watched as you advanced toward Vecna. He tried to step forward again, but your next shot hit his shoulder, throwing him off balance. His body shook as his legs almost gave way, though he still remained standing.

With a full turn of her body, Yasmin swung the sword a final time, cutting the demogorgon’s head off. It dropped to the floor with a thud, blood pooling at her feet as her chest heaved. She looked at the creature that was now turning into a glob. Hopper walked over to her, his lips parted before wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight against him. They then heard the sound of a helicopter, and they looked up to see Dmitri and Yuri waving at them from above. Murray and Joyce yelled in joy, while Yasmin and Hopper grinned, holding one another tight.

And in Hawkins, you took one last shot, this time aiming straight for the center of Vecna’s chest. You held your breath, squinting your eyes before pulling the trigger. The bullet’s force threw him backwards, smashing through the window behind him as his body disappeared from your sight.

You slowly lowered your gun, your chest rising and falling. You turned back, looking at the other three before rushing out of the room. The others followed, running down the stairs and out the front door. But when you reached the spot where Vecna should have landed, your breath caught.

He was gone.

Only his imprint remained, flames sizzling around it. You stared, brows furrowed in disbelief, lips parted as a familiar feeling of dread settled into your gut. Then came the sound you feared the most.

The chimes.

The four of you ran back into the house, eyes set on the grandfather clock. Your stomach twisted as you counted the sounds. One…two…three…

“Four chimes,” Robin whispered.

“Max,” Nancy said quietly.

Your eyes filled with tears, lips parting as your knees nearly gave out. You barely had time to process it before the ground started shaking violently beneath your feet. Steve grabbed your hand as the house trembled again, new openings splitting through the walls and floor. The four of you held onto anything you could, bracing yourselves as the Creel House was torn apart from the inside.

When the shaking stopped, you slowly stood up. You looked around in horror. The vision Vecna had shown you had come true. The Upside Down was now in Hawkins.

You all ran out the house. There was no time to speak. You needed to get out of here. You needed to get back to the gate you came from and find Dustin and Eddie.

As you reached the Upside Down version of Eddie’s trailer, you slowed down. There were new gates everywhere, but your eyes were drawn to the boy on the ground, crying. It was Dustin. Your stomach dropped.

The four of you rushed toward him, eyes widening as you saw Eddie lay there, his body lifeless and chewed up by the bats. Dustin sobbed over him, shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe.

Steve pulled Dustin back, whispering something you couldn’t hear. You moved beside them, grabbing Dustin’s arm, helping him up. The boy limped in pain after injuring his leg as you tried to drag him away from Eddie. There was nothing you could do but leave him there.

You all went back through the gate, escaping the Upside Down, but it didn’t feel like you won. The trailer park was split apart by gaping red cracks, some things swallowed into the ground. You stepped out of Eddie’s trailer and finally fell to your knees, body trembling as sobs overtook you.

Your hands pressed to your face, palms digging into your eyes, but nothing could stop the emotions that poured out. You cried harder than you ever had in your life.

Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin, who were silently crying, looked at you, watching you tear yourself apart. Steve walked over to you slowly, his own eyes red and glassy. He knelt beside you, reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away violently.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” you croaked, voice hoarse.

His face fell but he didn’t say anything.

“I told you Max shouldn’t have gone. I begged all of you,” your voice broke. “And none of you listened to me.” Steve tried to speak again, but you stood up and stepped forward, pointing a finger at each of them. “I told you,” you said louder. “And none of you fucking listened!”

“Y/N–” Steve tried gently.

“No!” You shouted, eyes burning. You shoved him hard in the chest, your fists hitting him again and again. “It should’ve been me! I should’ve gone in! I should’ve been the bait!”

Your legs gave out as the sobs took over again, and Steve caught you instantly. You collapsed into him, gripping his jacket with everything you had. He held you close, one hand tangled in your hair, the other around your back as he buried his face into your shoulder, letting you take it out on him.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He could feel you falling apart in his arms, and it broke him in a way nothing else ever had.

Steve took you to his house after you refused to let go of him. You clung to him like a lifeline, barely breathing, unable to speak. Every time Max crossed your mind, your eyes welled with fresh tears.

The hospital had been chaos. You’d all rushed there to get Dustin checked out, and deep down, you knew Max would be there too. Your suspicion was confirmed when you saw Lucas and Erica sitting in the waiting room. Max was in surgery.

The moment your eyes met theirs, you pulled them both into a hug, all of you sobbing together in the middle of the room. Lucas told you what happened, that Vecna got to her. That she died for a whole minute. You broke at that, falling apart in his arms. But then he said she started breathing again, one minute later. The doctors called it a miracle.

You collapsed into Steve again, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you cried into his chest. Around you, the waiting room filled with more people. Many were hurt due to the collapse of Hawkins. All you could think about was Max. You were so close to saving her, to saving Hawkins. But now, she was almost gone, and you didn’t even know if she was still alive. You failed again.

Eventually, a surgeon came out and explained Max’s condition. She was alive but in a coma. You followed the group to her hospital room, legs barely carrying you, until you saw her in the bed. The sight made your knees buckle, but Steve caught you before you fell.

She was wrapped head to toe in bandages, her body broken and eyes closed. They said she was blind, as well as braindead. The odds of her waking up were slim. You couldn’t look at her anymore. You ran out, choking on your own sobs as your hands covered your face.

Steve followed you out. Not because he thought you were fragile, but because he was scared. After hearing you say you wished it had been you instead of Max, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what you might do.

He pulled you into him again, holding you tightly, his hand moving up and down your back as you cried harder, letting your weight fall into his chest. He didn’t say anything, he just held you.

A few minutes later, Nancy stepped out of Max’s room and saw the two of you. Her own eyes were red, tears staining her cheeks. Steve met her gaze as she walked over to the two of you and he shook his head. “I’m going to take her back to my place,” he murmured, gently tightening his hold on you.

Nancy nodded, understanding instantly. “Okay. I’ll bring her stuff over in the morning.” She looked at you one last time before turning away, heart breaking not only for Max, but for you too. She knew you’d carry the guilt, even though none of it was your fault.

By the time Steve reached his house, you had stopped crying. You didn’t say a single word but your red, swollen eyes and tear-streaked face said everything.

He helped you inside, taking you straight to his room. You sat down on the edge of his bed without a word, staring at the floor as he searched for something comfortable for you to wear. He returned with a stack of clothes and set them beside you. You didn’t move.

You were still replaying everything in your head, the way you’d snapped at everyone, the screaming, the guilt. You made a mental note to apologize later, but not now. Right now, you didn’t want to feel anything. You just wanted to shut it all out.

Steve kneeled in front of you, placing a hand gently on your cheek and guiding your face to meet his. “Hey,” he said softly. “You think you can take a shower?”

You didn’t respond. You stared at his chest, avoiding his eyes. He reached out again, tilting your chin up.

“Come on, honey,” he coaxed. “Just a shower. Or a bath. Whatever you want. You need to get out of these clothes. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears again, but you nodded faintly. That was all he needed. He stood and helped you to your feet, walking you to the bathroom. You stood silently as he turned the shower on, waiting for the water to warm.

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said gently, just as he was about to step out. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” As he reached for the doorknob, your hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his. He stopped, looking down at your fingers curled around his, then up at your face. You didn’t meet his eyes at first.

“Stay,” you whispered. Your voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear you.

Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right. “Are you su–”

“Please,” you said again, louder this time. Your voice cracked, your eyes glistening. The look on your face broke him all over again.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped back toward you and nodded. His eyes lingered on your clothes, unsure of what to do next. “Can you…take off your clothes?”

You shook your head slowly, lips trembling. You took his hands gently and guided them to the zipper of your jacket, trying to show him what you meant. His eyes widened as realization hit, but he didn’t say anything. With careful fingers, he unzipped your jacket, still trembling slightly as he began to undress you.

The moment was intimate, but it felt right. You let him peel off your layers, jacket, shirt, and then the rest, your eyes never leaving his. You stood bare before him, vulnerable in every way, but he only looked at you with so much care it made your chest ache.

Steve didn’t hesitate to undress himself next. He kicked off his pants, pulled off his jacket, and the only thing left was the makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around his torso. The second you saw it, your throat closed. You swallowed hard, your eyes beginning to sting again.

Steve stepped forward and cupped your cheeks with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the fresh tears before they could fall. “No, no, no. Don’t cry, honey,” he whispered softly. “I’m okay. Doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore, alright?”

You nodded slowly, even though you didn’t quite believe him. The tears still came. “We need to clean it,” you said, voice cracking. “Your wound.”

“We will,” he murmured, his eyes gentle. “And we’ll clean your wound too, on your arm.”

You blinked in surprise, as if remembering it for the first time. The wound still stung faintly, but you barely felt it. Your body was too numb, too overwhelmed by everything else. The physical pain didn’t matter anymore. But Steve noticed. He always did.

He reached for the edge of the bandage and slowly began unwrapping it from around his waist. You watched, your stomach twisting as the dried blood peeled away with it. His movements were careful, and when the last bit was off and the wound was exposed, it was worse than you remembered. You reached for him instinctively, resting your palm lightly on his ribs, your thumb brushing near the edge of the wound. He leaned into your touch.

Without saying anything more, he took your hand and led you into the shower. The bathroom filled with the sound of running water as steam slowly fogged the glass. He stepped in first, holding out a hand for you. You took it, letting the water run down your bodies, washing away the blood, the grime, and the dirt from the Upside Down.

The heat of the water grounded you both. Steve winced as it hit his wound, but didn’t complain. You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently, carefully washing the dried blood from his body. Your touch was featherlight, scared of hurting him more, but he didn’t flinch. He just watched you.

He reached for your arm next, silently asking for permission. You nodded. He took your injured arm in both of his hands, washing around the wound delicately. The pain made you hiss under your breath, but you didn’t pull away. His eyes met yours, searching for signs to stop, but you just nodded your head, letting him continue.

You both moved slowly, his hands roaming over your arms, your shoulders, down your back. You turned to face him fully, pressing your forehead to his chest as the water poured over both of you. His arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time. He didn’t care that it hurt, he just needed you close.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, lips against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

After the two of you got out of the shower, put on fresh bandages, and changed into new clothes, you felt a little bit better. You definitely felt refreshed, and for a second, you forgot everything. It wasn’t until Steve left you alone in his room to get you something to eat when the emptiness started creeping back in again. That familiar heaviness pressed against your chest, crawling its way up your throat.

You took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. But it didn’t help. Ever since you’d climbed out of the Upside Down hours ago and started crying, it was like something inside you had cracked wide open. The crying hadn’t stopped. You didn’t even know you could cry this much, but the tears kept coming.

Every time you thought you were done, it would hit you again. It was as if a dam broke and the water wouldn’t stop rushing out. You used to be good at hiding your emotions. You were the one people leaned on, the one who didn’t break. It was hard to show emotions when you were trained to be emotionless. You didn’t want to be seen as weak, never letting anyone truly see you. But now you couldn’t even stand upright without feeling like the world was tilting.

Your thoughts spiraled to Max. You weren’t there but you could imagine the sound of her bones breaking, the way her body went still in Lucas’s arms.

You needed your mom. She was always the one who could bring you back when the panic attacks started, when the world got too loud for you to handle. After that prison, after everything you’ve been through, she’d be there to hold you through the nightmares. You thought you’d grown past needing that. But tonight proved you wrong.

Steve moved quickly in the kitchen, trying to make something fast. He didn’t want to leave you alone for long. He settled on scrambled eggs and toast, the one thing he knew you’d eat no matter what time it was. It was easy and fast, and he’d made it for you countless times before. He moved around the kitchen in a rush, barely waiting for the bread to pop from the toaster before throwing everything on a plate. He hurried up the stairs, wanting to get back before anything happened.

As soon as he walked into his room, his stomach dropped. You weren’t there. He stopped cold, eyes scanning the room, his breath catching. You’d been sitting on his bed. You were right there.

He quickly set the plate of food down on the nightstand. He looked toward the bathroom, thinking maybe you’d gone in there, but then he heard your tiny, broken cry.

He turned his head, heart pounding, following the noise around to the other side of his bed and found you there. You were curled up against the frame, knees pulled tight to your chest, your back pressed to the edge of the mattress. Your hands were covering your ears, your body rocking ever so slightly. Your lips were moving, whispering something he couldn’t make out. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, immediately crouching down in front of you. You didn’t respond and he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to startle you so he moved slowly, lowering himself onto the floor beside you until he was at your level. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You blinked, like you were just now realizing he was there. And without a word, you shifted forward, collapsing into him. Steve wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, holding you close, letting you melt against him as your tears soaked his shirt. He rubbed gentle circles into your back and pressed his cheek to your temple. You clung to him like he was the only person left in the world.

Steve managed to get you to eat after calming you down. You forced him to eat with you, knowing he hadn’t eaten either. You felt terrible for being so difficult. For clinging to him. For being a mess. You weren’t even together anymore, yet he still did everything for you, held you when you fell apart, cleaned your wounds, fed you like you hadn’t just broken his heart a few months ago. That reminded you that you still needed to talk to him, your mind going back to what he told you in the woods.

The two of you lay under his blankets, facing each other in the dark. You could hear the sound of his breathing, the slow rhythm of it matching yours.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His finger came up and brushed lightly against your lips, shushing you before the guilt could spill out. “I don’t want to hear you apologize,” he whispered, voice soft. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And nothing’s wrong with you. Your feelings are normal. You’re allowed to break down. You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know? And I’ll always be here. Whenever you need me.”

You blinked slowly, your chest tightening. You hated crying again, but it still came, just quieter this time. You breathed out, voice trembling. “Thank you. For everything. You don’t have to be so kind, yet you’re always taking care of me.”

He gave you a small smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’d do the same for me.”

You stared at him, the words on your tongue, waiting to be said. “I still think about us,” you said. “A lot more than I want to admit.”

He didn’t say anything right away. His eyes flickered between yours. “Me too.”

“I hated how it ended,” you confessed. “I thought breaking it off would be easier, but it just made everything harder. I tried pretending like it was the right thing, like letting go was the mature choice, but all I’ve wanted since I left was to come back. To you.”

Steve let out a breath, one he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I thought I was doing the right thing too. I didn’t want to hold you back. You had this whole new life starting in California. And I–I didn’t think I fit into it.”

“You did,” you said, reaching for his hand under the covers. “You still do.”

His hand tightened around yours. “I meant what I said back there. You’ve always been there. I never stopped loving you.”

You nodded, voice barely audible. “I never stopped loving you either.”

Steve looked at you like you were his entire world, like nothing had changed even though everything had. “So what now?”

You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. “Maybe…we stop pretending that letting each other go was ever going to work.”

And when his lips met yours, your heart exploded. It was soft and warm. You’ve been dreaming of this ever since you left, dreaming about him being yours again. It felt like coming home after being gone for too long. He was your home.

That night, you fell asleep wrapped in the arms of the man who never stopped waiting for you.

It was two days after everything happened. You had visited Max again at the hospital, with Steve by your side. The guilt coursed through you as you silently cried. You hated seeing her like this, her entire body covered in bandages.

You kept trying to calm yourself down, but every time you did, the guilt came rushing back. You still believed it should’ve been you instead of Max. At least then, she would be safe. You had failed to protect the kids again, even after promising yourself you would always be there.

The only good thing you could think of was having Steve back. Nancy dropped off your things the next morning, and Steve gave the two of you some time alone while he made lunch. You apologized to her for breaking down in front of everyone. But your best friend didn’t even blink, she was there for you, reminding you again and again that none of this was your fault. You were grateful for her. For all of them. You just wished you could believe it.

Now, you were at the Wheeler’s house, helping them sort through boxes of items to donate. You still felt awful for blowing up on them that night, screaming at everyone about what happened to Max. Maybe it came from years of pent-up frustration, or maybe it was just from being so exhausted. Either way, you apologized to them afterward, and they all shook their heads, offering soft, reassuring smiles like it hadn’t changed a thing.

Steve had handed you a letter from Max that was addressed to you, one of the ones she wrote in case she didn’t make it. You didn’t know how long you cried, only that it was long enough. You hated letters ever since Hopper’s.

You saw more and more people packing their bags and leaving Hawkins, realizing that the town really was cursed. You watched as car after car left the city, not once looking back.

You loaded one of the last boxes into Steve’s trunk. You were all headed to Hawkins High, where the donation center was set up. So many people had been hurt, so much had been destroyed. Everyone was trying to help however they could.

You and Steve arrived hand in hand, and though most of the group, except Nancy who already knew the morning she came to drop off your stuff, was surprised to see the two of you back together, they were happy. You tried your best to stay joyful, laughing along with the others, your hand constantly finding Steve’s. He never minded. He liked keeping you close. In fact, he kissed you whenever he could, even when Dustin groaned about the two of you ‘sucking each other’s faces off’ in front of the Wheeler house.

Steve only narrowed his eyes at him, tightening his hold around your waist. “Shut up, Henderson.” And instead of stopping, he pressed even more kisses to your face, just to annoy him. Dustin gagged dramatically, making you giggle as you gently shoved Steve away and returned to packing the last box into the car.

You heard a vehicle behind you, but didn’t think much of it until Karen’s voice rang out. “Did someone order a pizza?”

“Pizza?” Dustin repeated, confused, as you all turned to face the pizza van pulling into the driveway. You knew that van.

Your lips parted as you watched the doors open and saw the people you hadn’t seen in a week. Jonathan, Will, Eleven, Mike, and Argyle. They stepped out one by one, and everyone around you broke into smiles. You didn’t hesitate, running straight to El and wrapping your arms around her tightly.

“Oh my God, El!” You squealed, pulling back to cup her face in your hands. Your eyes drifted to her head, widening in shock. “Your hair?!”

Eleven laughed, nodding. “I missed you,” she said, voice soft.

Your heart swelled. “I missed you, too,” you grinned, pulling her in for another hug. When she glanced over your shoulder to see Dustin, you let her go, letting her run to him.

Turning back around, your eyes landed on another familiar face. Jonathan gave you a small wave, and you jogged over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped you into a big hug without hesitation. Nancy lit up at the sight of her best friend and her boyfriend.

You smiled into his chest, relief washing over you. You’d been so worried about them, especially after they hadn’t answered any of your calls.

When you pulled back, you lightly punched him in the chest, making him blink in surprise. “Why the hell weren’t you answering the phone?! We were all so worried!”

Jonathan sighed. “I know, I know. I’ll explain everything, okay?” He glanced at Nancy, who gave him a tiny smile. “I’ll tell you all everything.”

“You better,” you muttered, and then realized you had your own explaining to do about your past. “I’ve got some things to say, too.”

Jonathan furrowed his brows, glancing at Nancy. She only shrugged, knowing it wasn’t her place to say anything.

Steve then walked up, wrapping his arm around your waist. Jonathan raised a brow at the gesture, and your cheeks flushed. “Jonathan,” Steve said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Steve,” Jonathan replied with a small nod. The two of them were trying to be civil.

You still didn’t understand why they hadn’t tried harder to get along. As far as you knew, whatever differences they had years ago were long behind them. You and Nancy exchanged a look, both rolling your eyes at your boyfriends’ awkward tension. Neither of them noticed.

You then saw Argyle standing nearby, grinning at the group.

“You’re here too!” You said, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, dude!” He grinned, giving you a light shake. “It’s wayyy different from good ol’ Cali, but still super cool. Not how I pictured spending spring break, though.”

You laughed. “Try moving away from here to California. Talk about different.”

“It’s crazy!”

You moved on to hug Will and Mike, holding the former a little longer. You missed them so much more than you’d even realized.

Dustin filled the California crew in on Max’s condition, and their faces turned somber. You and Nancy knew it would be best to take them to the hospital, to let them see Max, Lucas, and Erica, even though your heart still ached at the thought. You knew Lucas would be happy to see them.

You looked at Steve, not wanting to leave him. You’d already packed the donation boxes into his car, but now it seemed like you’d be splitting up. But then you had an idea. Your eyes flicked between his BMW and Argyle’s van, your mind racing.

Steve caught the look on your face, tilting his head. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

You turned to him. “I think I’m going to go to the hospital with them. Do you wanna come?”

You saw the hesitation in his face, how much he didn’t want to be apart from you. He glanced at his car. “I want to,” he admitted. “But who else is gonna take all these boxes to the school? Robin can’t drive.”

You smiled before looping your arms around his waist. “What if we move all the boxes into Argyle’s van? That way, we all ride together, drop off the stuff, and whoever wants to stay at the school can. Then the rest of us go to the hospital.”

Steve looked down at you, his expression softening. He smiled before leaning in and kissing the tip of your nose. “I like the way you think.”

You all piled into Argyle’s pizza van after moving the boxes from Steve’s car into the back, driving off toward the school. Robin and Dustin volunteered to drop off the donations, letting the rest of you head straight to the hospital. Your chest tightened the closer you got, your heart racing as the image of Max all bandaged up kept replaying in your head. Steve gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reminder that he was right there beside you.

Once you arrived at the hospital, you followed the familiar path to Max’s room. You and Nancy led the way, both of you having already been here a few times. The others trailed quietly behind, while Argyle stayed back in the hallway to give you all some space.

Lucas was sitting by Max’s bedside, reading softly from a book. He looked up as soon as the door opened, his expression changing completely when he saw the group enter the room.

“Oh my God,” he breathed out, rising quickly to his feet and pulling Will and Mike into a hug. “We’ve been calling you guys like crazy.”

“I know,” Mike said, hugging him back. “We came as soon as we heard.”

You didn’t say anything. Your eyes were glued to Max’s motionless figure in the bed, and the lump in your throat grew too large to ignore. You felt your breathing pick up as fresh tears stung your eyes. Backing into the corner of the room, you pressed a fist to your mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to slip out.

Steve noticed immediately. His eyes were on you, full of worry, but he didn’t move. He knew you well enough by now, knew that sometimes you just needed a second to collect yourself, to let yourself breathe.

You wished, more than anything, that they had listened to you. That they had let you be the bait. The guilt weighed heavily on your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking that if you had been in Max’s place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe she’d be okay. Maybe they’d all be okay.

You glanced around at the pained expressions on everyone’s faces, each of them hurting in their own way. And it crushed you. You could’ve prevented this. You were supposed to protect them no matter what.

You needed to find a place to hide Eleven from the government, so you suggested Hopper’s cabin. It wasn’t in great shape since it had been destroyed the year before, but if you all worked together to fix it, it would work.

Jonathan drove Argyle’s van deep into the woods until the cabin came into view. The sight of it for the first time since July made your heart ache. It looked even worse than you remembered. You glanced over at Eleven, who had stopped walking, a sorrowful expression settling on her face. Gently, you rested your hand on her shoulder. She looked up at you.

“It’s going to be okay, El,” you said softly, offering a reassuring smile. She gave a small nod before the two of you followed the others into the wrecked cabin.

“Oh Jesus,” Jonathan muttered as he took it all in.

“Holy shit,” Mike breathed. “This place is a total disaster.”

“This is crazy,” Steve added, eyes scanning the damage. He wasn’t there with you all when the Mind Flayer destroyed everything here.

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed, eyes drifting up toward the gaping hole in the ceiling. “Well, that’s a bit of a problem.”

“I get that we’ve gotta hide Supergirl and all,” Argyle chimed in, mouth hanging open. “But this ain’t the Fortress of Solitude, man. It’s more like…a fortress of grodiness.”

“Guys, come on. Positive thoughts, alright?” You said, trying to lift the mood a little.

“Seriously. I’ve seen Mike’s room look worse than this,” Nancy added as she made her way over to the sink.

“Ah, brutal, dude,” Argyle said, laughing as Mike scoffed at her sister’s words.

Nancy turned on the faucet and grinned when water started flowing. “See? Water still works.”

You let out a small laugh and rummaged through the cabinets until you found a box full of cleaning supplies. “And we’ve got cleaning supplies!”

Groans immediately echoed behind you. You turned and glared at the boys, throwing mops at Will and Mike. “No complaining. Get to work.”

You, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve were on window duty. There was just enough wood around the cabin to cover the broken windows. You and Steve took the back while Nancy and Jonathan handled the front.

You held the boards steady while Steve hammered them into place. When the last piece was finally secure, you both stepped back to admire your handiwork. Steve grinned, hands on his hips. “Look at that. We’re all done. We really do make a pretty good team, Kaul.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Why? You had doubts before?”

“Funny,” he said, rolling his eyes. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “It’s nice, though. Makes me think of how we could build things together in the future, you know? Like when we start a family. Have kids.”

Your smile faltered. You’d forgotten about that. You needed to talk to him, you needed to be honest before it was too late. You were terrified of his reaction. You had just gotten him back, and now you were scared of losing him all over again.

“Steve, um…listen. About the dream you told me–”

He noticed the hesitation in your voice, and his own smile faded. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” he said gently. “I get it. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I’d rather have you in my life than not have you at all.”

His words softened something in you. You took a breath, heart pounding. “No, no. I…Steve, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s head shot up, eyes wide. “You do?”

You nodded slowly. “But…”

“But?” He asked, voice gentle.

“I can’t give you what you want, Steve,” you whispered, turning your face away as tears welled in your eyes.

His brow furrowed. “What? I don’t understand…”

You looked back at him, voice trembling. “You said you wanted a family. That you wanted kids…”

He nodded slowly, starting to see where this was going. “Okay. But the six kids thing? That was just me being dramatic. We don’t have to have kids at all if you don’t want–”

“That’s the thing, Steve. I do want kids,” you cut in, voice cracking. “Not like six kids. But I still want children.”

“I still don’t get it.”

You looked around to make sure no one was near before leaning in. “I…I can’t have children.”

His eyes widened in shock, but his hands immediately landed on your arms. “That’s okay,” he said quietly. His hands slid up to cup your face. “We don’t need kids. All I need is you.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You shook your head as tears slipped down your cheeks. “When I was in that place, they performed surgeries on all the girls. We were getting our periods and it was interfering with our training, so they…”

His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he listened, never looking away.

“They forced us to get hysterectomies.” You took another shaky breath. “That’s why I can’t have children.”

Steve’s heart shattered. It all clicked for him now. All those times you brushed off the need for condoms, telling him you were on the pill to regulate your cycle. He’d never questioned it. But now he saw the truth, and it made his stomach turn with fury at the people who hurt you.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you cried. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“Would you just shut up?” He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “Stop apologizing. You’re all I want, okay? You’re everything I need. I don’t care about anything else.” He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you understand that I can’t even breathe without you? All those months away from you…it nearly destroyed me. I felt like I was falling apart. I don’t ever want to feel that again. I can’t live without you.”

Your lip trembled. “But what if, years down the line, you grow to resent me? What if you end up miserable because we can’t have kids? I’d rather you spare me now than you end up hating me. It’s your dream after all.”

“I will not hate you,” he said firmly, hands still cupping your face. “The first thing I think about when I wake up is you. The last thing I think about before I sleep is you. You’re stuck in my head permanently. If anything, I will be miserable without you. I love you.”

A shaky but relieved laugh escaped your lips as you leaned your forehead against his chest. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked up again, noses brushing. “I love you so much.”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his other still gently holding your cheek. His eyes were soft, full of love. “I love you more.”

You smiled, wanting to freeze time and stay in this moment forever. “I know I said I can’t give birth, but…maybe we could adopt.”

His face lit up. “We can definitely do that. When we’re ready,” he said with a playful grin, giving your side a little pinch.

You squealed, laughing as you swatted his shoulder. “Steve!”

“But I mean, babies are kind of overrated anyway,” he teased. “They’re loud and messy and they poop in their pants.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You used to poop in a diaper too, Steve.”

Steve fake-gagged, turning his head dramatically. “Ugh, I can’t believe I did that.”

“I thought having a family was one of your dreams?” You giggled.

“Dreams change!” He said, grinning at your laughter. He tugged you closer, one hand slipping to your waist, breath warm against your lips. “Besides…I think I’d rather just stick to practicing.”

He kissed you before you could respond, pulling you flush against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lips moving in sync with his. He spun you so your back hit the cabin wall, but all you could feel was him. His hands roaming your body, his lips kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been making out, but eventually, reality crept back in and you realized you were still outside. Breathless, your lips swollen and puffy, you gently pushed Steve away. “Okay, we need to stop before we actually start practicing out here.”

He just shrugged, grinning as he watched you walk off. “I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes, rounding the side of the cabin to head back to the front. Steve followed close behind, still wearing that silly smile. You were just about to tell Nancy and Jonathan that the two of you had finished your job when your eyes landed on a familiar face.

“Steve and I just finished putting up all the wood–Mom?”

Yasmin turned at the sound of your voice, a wide smile on her face. You ran straight into her arms, shocked but overjoyed to see her.

“I missed you! What are you doing here?” You asked, pulling back. But before she could answer, another familiar face caught your attention. “Joyce, hi! Wait–Joyce?” You blinked, utterly confused. She waved at you warmly, smiling from ear to ear. You even spotted Murray nearby, making the situation feel even more confusing.

Yasmin laughed gently, placing her hands on your shoulders as she turned you around. “There’s someone you should see.”

You let her guide you, brows furrowed in confusion. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat the moment your eyes locked with his.

Hopper stood in front of you, holding Eleven in his arms. El let go of him to rush into Yasmin’s arms, but you remained frozen, stunned into silence. Hopper opened his arms, and that was all it took for you to move. You launched into him, wrapping your arms around him tightly as tears flooded your eyes. He laughed softly, hugging you just as tightly and rubbing your back as you cried into his shoulder.

You finally pulled back, and Hopper cupped your face with both hands. “I told them,” you said through tears, a smile breaking across your face. “I finally told them everything.”

Hopper grinned, eyes full of warmth and pride. “I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”

You let out a small laugh, wiping your tears away as you took a good look at him. “You’re…smaller now,” you teased.

He chuckled, nodding. “Guess I am. And you’re still shorter than me.”

You scoffed, playfully punching his arm. He smiled, then turned to glance toward a woman standing by a black car. He gave her a subtle nod. She returned it before quietly getting in and driving away.

It felt like a piece of you was being stitched back together. You never thought this moment would come. Hopper being alive felt like something out of a dream, and even now, standing in front of him, it was hard to believe.

You turned back to your mom and hugged her again. Yasmin kissed the top of your head, having missed you more than words could express.

“I didn’t think you could bring a victim home with you, mom,” you joked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “He was a special case.”

You looked around, your heart full. Despite everything that had happened, this moment brought you peace. You had your mom. You had Hopper. You had Steve. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to go back to California.

But you should’ve known that happy moments never lasted long.

An odd sensation started crawling up your spine. Your brow furrowed as you looked at Yasmin, who noticed the change in your expression.

You turned your head and locked eyes with Will. He was already touching the back of his neck. You both slowly turned to the sky to see dark clouds spreading. Everyone noticed the sudden change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, eyes lifting to the sky as soft white flakes began to fall.

You held out your hand, catching one in your palm. Your breath hitched, knowing it wasn’t snow. It didn’t look like snow.

Everyone grew quiet, concern spreading through the group instantly. Hopper took the lead, walking out of the woods to see what was happening. Joyce, Yasmin, and Murray followed close behind. You walked with Steve, Eleven, Will, and Mike, while Nancy and Jonathan followed. As you stepped into the open field, your breath caught.

The odd sensation within you increased. Your mouth parted slightly as you took in the scene. Dark clouds could be seen from a distance. Red lightning streaked across the sky. There was smoke in the air.

Steve squeezed your hand tight, pulling you closer. You stood side by side with him, surrounded by the others. Will and Mike. Nancy and Jonathan. Joyce and Murray. Yasmin and Hopper. All of you were frozen in place. Eleven walked a little further ahead by herself, pausing only to pick up a dead flower from the ground. She stood slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The Upside Down had collided with Hawkins. Everyone’s lives were in danger. You knew Vecna wasn’t done. He wouldn’t stop, not until he got his revenge. This was just the beginning.

It was the beginning of a war and you had already lost.

[tempestandwhirlwinds]

I disagree with almost everything said here, and I'd like to add my two cents to this conversation. I'm going to separate my arguments in the order that they appear in this post. I'll probably paraphrase a lot of this since I'm on mobile.

1. Anon thinks that Haymitch's character was assassinated bc Haymitch was taking orders from the rebellion instead of using his own intellect with the forcefield. They think it's more meaningful that Haymitch was punished when he was just trying to survive instead of being punished for deliberate attacking the arena/games/Capitol.

I disagree entirely with the "character assassination" assessment - I think what we learn in SoTR gives Haymitch more depth and explains the motivations for everything he does in the Trilogy: it characterizes him as a man who's lost everything because of an ill-planned rebellion. He's not a drunk bc he has to watch 2 kids die every year. He's a drunk bc he actually tried to dismantle the system and, when he failed, it cost him his family and the love of his life. He drinks to forget what he's lost, and he stays away from everyone to make sure Snow doesn't punish anyone else who he could care about. Haymitch's backstory has another purpose: it shows us exactly how much Katniss had to lose by publicly embodying the face and symbol of the rebellion. Even when Katniss escaped the arena in CF, Snow bombed 12. What do you think he would've done if she hadn't?

I also think you're giving Haymitch's intellect with the forcefield a bit too much credit. Sure, he figured out how the force field works, but the only reason it worked in killing the other tribute is bc he was injured and fell at the exact right moment. Even if you argue that he led them over there on purpose, luck factored in heavily to how he won, and this is undoubtedly the angle the Capitol would've leaned into.

2. Anon doesn't like how the original message we got from Katniss and Peeta watching his games in CF are now void bc of what we see in SoTR - that the Capitol heavily edited the footage to control the narrative.

In CF, Katniss says that Haymitch's trick with the forcefield "made [the Capitol] look stupid" bc it "wasn't meant to be apart of the arena" and "they never planned on it being used as a weapon" (CF 282). It's not until Mockingjay that we learn that this stunt got Haymitch's family and girl killed.

Looking back on it, this seems like a disproportionately severe response, especially since it could be spun that Haymitch didn't intend to use the forcefield like that. Katniss and Peeta deliberately defy the rules to rob the Capitol of a Victor with the berries and neither of their families are punished for it. And we know from SoTR that they can easily kill the family members/loved ones of Victors and say that they died of "natural causes", so why didn't they do this with Katniss and Peeta's family? Because what they did was not as rebellious as what Haymitch did. Bc the berries could be turned into a tale of romance and teen love. Haymitch used a BOMB to try and take out the arena in SoTR.

The trick with the forcefield seems nothing by comparison. What is a little lost pride by the Capitol with keeping that end clip in the footage in the face of showing the most blatant and violent act of rebellion they had likely seen since the Dark Days?

In terms of what the original "message" of Haymitch' games in CF, the message of "mess with the Capitol's image, and you'll get punished for it" is not only still in SoTR, but it is compounded once we see the true extent of what happened in the games. The only thing that is different is we see how absolutely the Capitol controls the media and the narrative surrounding the games, which means that any evidence of rebellion will be hidden from sight and squashed out of history books - UNLESS the rebellion succeeds.

We knew that the Capitol distorted the truth of what happened in the Districts in the Trilogy, but it's not until SoTR that we see how they we able to change the perception of the PAST because of it. A very poignant lesson to learn in the modern political climate of cherry picking what's in our history books.

3. OP states that the characterization of young Haymitch in CF seems to align with the older version of him we see in the Trilogy. He's dismissive, arrogant, aloof, and he's pretty much by himself during the games. OP then says "one of the key differences that was stripped from haymitch in sotr is that he cares about people, in his own silent way but he does care".

I was following you in the front half of this but then you lost me completely with that last part. Are you saying that Haymitch doesn't care for people in SoTR? He has a Ma and brother that he loves, a girlfriend he adores, his sweetheart Louella that he is protective of, and Maysilee, who becomes his sister during the games. Haymitch is by FAR the character with the most loved ones in the entire Hunger Games universe. That's why losing everyone as a punishment hit him so hard!! It's why he desperately tried to push people away so he wouldn't endure the pain of losing someone else he cared about! But he still has love in his heart, which is why he reluctantly gets attached to Katniss and Peeta in the Trilogy. That man is a lover! It's such a fundamental part of his personality that he's devastated that the edited games make him look like a jackass who abandoned everyone when he really was isolating himself to protect the others bc he knew Snow had pit a target on his back.

4. OP mentions that him being the noble hero at the end and trying to help someone else be the victor felt undeserved.

Haymitch thought he was a dead man here. He wanted to go home, but knew that probably wasn't going to happen bc of how much he'd pissed off Snow. He wanted to make sure that if anyone else was going to win, it was someone who he allied with, just as a small way taking back some control.

5. OP says that it's hard to believe that Haymitch would not have been killed by the Capitol if he had actually blown up the arena. It made sense to kill his family and girlfriend for the forcefield trick, but why wouldn't they kill Haymitch for the bomb?

Couple reasons. Haymitch had gotten Snow's attention early on (with Louella's corpse in the parade), which means Snow was paying very close attention to what Haymitch was doing. Therefore, when Haymitch descended into the sublevel of the arena to blow up the water tank, Snow clearly didn't have the cameras recording his actions. The circumstances almost certainly have been different if the audience HAD saw what happened, but we know from the film of the games afterward that they didn't see it (or didn't see enough of it to register what he was doing and the memory was surpassed by the official recording later). Because of this, Snow was able to focus on punishment, not damage control with the Capitol's image.

Also, Snow DID want Haymitch to kill himself. He sent him poisoned milk directly into the arena, clearly a response for what Haymitch did with the water tank and forcefield. It's only pure luck that prevented Haymitch from drinking it. And we all know the consequences of what happened to Haymitch bc he didn't drink it - Snow killed his Ma, Sid, and Lenore Dove in front of him.

6. OP says the message about propaganda was only "shoved down our throats at the end", making it feel like clumsy writing - "telling" instead of "showing".

The message about propaganda gets more direct at the end, sure, but there is a constant throughline of "painting your own poster" which shows how the characters want to take control back from the Capitol's propaganda and show everyone who they really are, even when their image is used by the Capitol. Once we get to see the recording of Haymitch's games, we understand that even when we are aware of propaganda, we cannot control how ppl will view it, how it will be presented, or how it will effect us.

(Also we are told so much about Lenore Dove - and not shown - specifically because she's a rebel and she's trying to keep Haymitch in the dark about it to protect him, hence the orange paint on her fingernails and Maysilee's commenr about how L.D. was ahead of the game. This is the same mindset that used with Katniss during CF - knowing too much can be dangerous)

7. OP says Collins used propaganda as an excuse as to why Haymitch's personality is so different in SoTR when compared to the Trilogy. How could he have become smarter in the Trilogy when he spent so many years an an alcoholic?

Even though it seems like Haymitch's personality (as described in the 50th games in CF) matches his mentor persona (as seen in Katniss' "he didn't have to reach far for that one" comment) it's clear that he's putting on a facade, just like every other tribute does. We don't get much indicators of his personality apart from that one line in his interview with Flickerman, and he seems pretty neutral with Maysilee in the recording, so it's a bit hard to compare 16yr old haymitch with 41 yr old haymitch in CF. But quite honestly, I would've been astounded if his personality was the same in SoTR as it was in the Trilogy. I would hope a man changes a bit between 16 and 40, and we also knew that his family and girlfriend were killed by Snow. Him being a more charming, friendly guy in SoTR only emphasizes how devastated he was by his loss.

As for his intellect - in SoTR, he was a brash 16yr old who thought he had nothing to lose. It was only once he actually lost everything that he realized the depth of his mistake. Even with all the drinking, that's a lesson that teaches you to be smart about your decisions. He's also smart about maintaining appearances and an image with the audience in SoTR (hence the "rascal" mantle) and he clearly doesn't lose this intellect and knowledge by the time the 74th games roll around. I actually saw more similarities between young Haymitch and Peeta at the beginning because of this.

8. OP says that the message of a books shouldn't be so heavy handed bc it's implying that the audience is dumb or too stupid to get it.

Not necessarily. The subtlety of a book's message heavily depends on the audience the book is advertised to. The Hunger Games trilogy, TBOSAS, and SoTR are all YA novels, which means a certain level of blatant messaging is expected. Even though the novels are politically complex enough for me to wish it had been written for an older audience (a lot of the messaging went over my head as a 13yr old), you can expect the target audience for a book to be the same age as the protagonist. And even if the themes/messaging are a bit too obvious or blatant for some ppl's taste, that doesn't mean that the message is wrong or not worth reading about. Personally, I think the message about how "you must fight within the corrupt system before you are able to overthrow it" and "attempting to control others will only lead to your downfall" was well done, but this can be subjective, so I'll move on.

9. OP says that propaganda was used effectively in TBOSAS and the Trilogy because Snow, Katniss, and Peeta were all able to use it to their advantage within the Games. Haymitch's games only withheld information, which is different from propaganda, therefore the propaganda message falls flat.

You mention what propaganda is defined as, but I'll put the full definition here. Propaganda is "information of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view." We see how the Capitol used propaganda to make the systemic murder of children into a game of entertainment, similar to betting on horse races. We see how Snow and Peeta are able to take control of that propaganda and use it to their own advantage (Snow getting ppl to care about Lucy Gray bc of her musical ability and getting sponsors as a result, Peeta leaning into the romance to engage the audience in a different way and keep their attention).

Katniss, on the other hand, cannot play the game the same way as those two. She is inherently honest, and while she can shut down the projection of her emotions on her face, she very consistently can't act to save her life, which becomes a huge problem when she fully steps into the role of the mockingjay. The rebellion needed her to act like the larger than life hero for their propaganda so she could be a figure for the Disticts to rally behind, but she simply couldn't do it (haymitch says something along the lines of "and that's how a rebellion dies" when she tries to give them what they want). In the Mockingjay, Katniss proves the point of the George Orwell quote used in SoTR: propaganda is lying, no matter which direction it's in. Katniss wins over the public by being HERSELF - a girl who loves her sister enough to take her place in the Games, a girl who respects and values those she trusts, a girl who honors the dead in a system designed to see them as a number. Katniss is proof that propaganda can fall to authenticity.

Haymitch, and SoTR, on the other hand, shows what happens when only one side has the power of propaganda. Haymitch tried to control his image in the propaganda with the whole "rascal" thing, but he was unsuccessful. He got the Capitol's attention before he got the Districts, which meant Snow was able to control his narrative before he even had the chance to get a foothold in his own propaganda.

You say that withholding information is different from propaganda, but I wholeheartedly disagree. I would argue that simply withholding some information is the most insidious form of propaganda, since it has the most truth to it, and it can use that truth to make whatever point it wants to. Haymitch witnessed how the withholding and reorganizing of the order of events turned him from a trail-blazing rebel into a self-centered kid who barely cared for the rest of the kids in the arena. Haymitch witnessed how the propaganda literally changed his history in the eyes of the Capitol, and it showed the reader how subjective any telling of the past can be.

You mentioned how propaganda plays on emotions - which is true - and in Haymitch's games, we could pick how so many moments that could've been used to play on the emotions of the audience and draw or repel the viewers to/from Haymitch's side. Lou Lou's death, the sharing chocolate with the Career, Ampert's death, blowing up the arena etc. But when we see the replay of his games, the Capitol has deliberately nullified the emotional impact of these scenes. Some were removed entirely, some were placed in a different order so they had no connection to Haymitch. This shows the Capitol's skill with propaganda, and they expertly rearranged the narrative so that Haymitch was longer someone to rally behind. In the recording of the games, they made him almost like every other Victor. Self-centered. Forgettable. Won by luck. They took away the power of his actions by removing them from the tapes, and because that made all the difference. It cause the rebellion to fail before it could even begin.

The next few thing you say I've already addressed, so I'll skip past them.

10. OP says the 48 tributes wasn't used to its full potential, and that more people were interested in Haymitch's deterioration than the games.

We already knew from CF that Haymitch was practically on his own for the length of the games bc he went in a different direction, so we wouldn't see the bloodbath that happens at the cornucopia. I don't think we ever really witness that part of the games (bc the narrator has to live) so SoTR isn't unique in that regard. But focusing too much on the games (much like the Capitol citizens) would distract from the actual message - the dangers and impacts of propaganda.

As for the interest in Haymitch's deterioration part, I would be incredibly surprised if people actually want to read about a novel that focuses explicitly on the descent into alcoholism and depression, especially since we know how isolated he is. What, he gets up, drinks until the sun goes down and then passes out? He watches the tributes die again and again for the next 25 years? Sure, I would've been interested in seeing how he viewed at least one pair of tributes, but I wouldn't want that to be the majority of the book by any means. What was important is the WHY behind his alcholism, which we got in spades in SoTR.

He doesn't drink bc of all the dead tributes he mentored, like we thought. He drinks because he thought he could be the hero and it got everyone he loved killed. He watched his mother and brother burn to death in front of him. He put the poisoned gum drop in his gf's mouth himself bc he didn't realize Snow switched the bags. That, for me, was much more meaningful than a detailed descent into despair.

Last point!

11. OP says that the spark for rebellion the THG was much more compelling while the attempted rebellion in SoTR was laughable. The fact that no one died trying to take down the Capitol in SoTR feels like suffocating plot armor bc there were no consequences.

The rebellion plan in SoTR was extremely desperate and far-fetched, but that is the point. Beetee was desperate to have his son's death not be in vain, sure, but it shows one key thing: rebellion cannot be manufactured.

What Katniss and Peeta did with the berries worked bc they lucked into the exact right circumstances: Katniss desperately loves her sister, and she's shown to be smart and capable and honorable (Rue's funeral); Peeta loves her and was trying to keep her alive bc he thought he had no chance of winning; AND (key point) they thought they would be able to win together before the Capitol revoked the rule change (made them into sympathetic characters in the audiences eyes bc Captiol cheated and changed the rules). All of these combine to make them - and Katniss especially - extremely compelling to both the Capitol citizena and the Districts.

These sets of circumstances simply didn't happen with Haymitch, and so he didn't have the opinion of the public on his side. But even so, Snow didn't want to risk the chance of making him a martyr (which is why he didn't kill Katniss after the berries) and gave him the chance to kill himself with the milk in the arena. But when Haymitch didn't do it, Snow killed those he loved as consequence. He already killed Ampert to punish Beetee, and I wouldn't be surprised if he did the same to Mags and Wiress. So no, the main characters of the rebellion weren't killed bc of what they did. But their loved ones were, and they probably would've rather been killed than endure that punishment.

Killing the rebels makes them a martyr. Killing the families of the rebels makes them a warning. And it was a warning that Haymitch heard loud and clear.

you’re so right about people not knowing how to handle conflict and i wish they did, people act like collins can do no wrong but if they could see past that there are some really interesting conversations to be had about this book and what does or doesn’t work from a literary perspective. but they aren’t willing to hear it out in a mature and respectful manner.

anyways what i wanted to say and get your opinion on is that i get collins maybe wanting to make a point about how long rebellion takes and how much trial and error there is but i kind of hate that it came at the cost of haymitch’s story from catching fire, like there are so many other ways to write about themes of propaganda i hate that we had to take a story with really interesting and impactful messages about rebellion and the cruelties of the capitol and say it was actually all propaganda, it doesn’t make sense to me.

haymitch not purposely acting as a part of the rebellion but rather just trying to survive (like katniss and peeta with the berries) makes for such a compelling message too. like i think him outsmarting the capitol using his own intellect rather than because he was following instructions from the rebellion and thus the captiol punishing a kid who wasn’t trying to dismantle them but was just trying to survive and make it back home alive hits so hard why erase that? she could’ve conveyed these themes with a different characters story, why assassinate haymitch like that? i also think there’s something powerful in his catching fire story about how him and maysilee broke the alliance but he still went after her without obligation.

i’m convinced that what we see in catching fire was what she originally intended his story to be and that she came up with the events of this book much later. it just frustrates me that she wrote haymitch’s story with such compelling ideas and messages only to then with this book say the capitol made that all up. like haymitch has always been my favorite character and while i hate that she took away his intellect and edge i actually hate that she took away all the meaning behind how his story in catching fire played out more.

Alright I will go into the propaganda aspect and why none of it works. Let’s start with Haymitch in Catching Fire: everything that we learn about him and the 50th games seems believable to how Haymitch had been characterized up till that point. During his interview: “Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same””(CF.197). That way of thinking is shown to align exactly with how Haymitch views others and what he verbally says he thinks of them throughout the original trilogy, remember he was not impressed with Katniss or Peeta. In fact he was completely dismissive of them until they both showed that they had a will to fight, he didn’t exactly respect them after that but he did show a real interest in them. Which is the same thing that Haymitch did in his arena from what we were showing in CF, he went off on his own from the start and only after Maysilee saved his life did he see the benefit of having an ally.

One of the key differences that I think was stripped from Haymitch in sotr is the fact that he cares about people, in his own silent way but he does care. Haymitch and Maysilee splitting up in CF made sense and didn’t need any further explanation; they were nearing the end of the games and almost all of the others were dead, they didn’t want to end up fighting each other. It’s a simple reason and we really didn’t need anything more, but then we’re shown that Haymitch did care about Maysilee more then just a person he had allied up with. He ran to her aid when she started screaming, even though he didn’t have to, they were no longer allies but he still cared about her. Sotr makes it seem like Haymitch only ever cares about the others in the arena because they all agreed to be allies, and not because he actually grew to like a person but knew there was no way they’d both make it back alive. Hie entire ‘Nobel hero’ act towards the end with him genuinely willing to die so a different tribute could live was just so… undeserving? We know nothing about the girl, I can’t even remember her name, and Haymitch knowing that he still has a family back home doesn’t even try winning to get back to them.

The forcefield incident was 100% the reason why Haymitch got punished by Snow, becuase come on lets be so realistic; if he destroyed a part of the arena he would have been killed in seconds for doing so. Why would Snow let Haymitch keep playing the game for another 5~ days after he tried to blow up the arena? And then at the end of sotr Haymitch didn’t have a plan to use the forcefield, it read like a complete accident and his victory is a coincidence instead of a clever use of the arena’s capabilities that he knew were there. I can see Haymitch’s family being executed for using the forcefield, but I can’t see Haymitch not being executed for the water tank.

So the propaganda message doesn’t really get shoved down our throats until the very end when Haymitch rewatches the games with Caesar, and I do mean SHOVED down our throats because it was about as subtle as a brick to the face. Haymitch physically tells us that everything has been altered because Collins forgot that it’s show, not tell, and told us everything. (As a side note this is why I hate Lenore Dove. Everything we ‘know’ about her has been told to us and we never get to see her doing any of the things she supposedly cares about.) Haymitch said while watching the re-run that he doesn’t recognize the person he is seeing on the screen and I for one agree with him, because I did not recognize the Haymitch I knew and loved in the original books once in sotr. So Collins just wanted to use propaganda as an excuse for why Haymitch’s personality is so drastically different in the chapter from CF, but its not that simple. His games in CF line up exactly with who Haymitch has been shown to be as a person for the entire series. I’ve seen people try to blame Haymitch’s alcoholism to explain away why he’s so different between the two books, but how did he somehow build all the brain cells he clearly possesses in the og trilogy that were lacking in sotr from being an alcoholic? Sure his personality could pleasingly have changed but his intellect wouldn’t. There was also no need for a propaganda ‘message’ because it doesn’t convey anything we don’t already know about that games, the capital, or propaganda as a whole.

Messaging in books and movies should never be so heavy handed because it implies that the audience is stupid and isn’t able to pick out hints and clues from the text to figure out the message, it comes across as demeaning and insulting. Especially when the ballad of songbirds and snakes does propaganda surpassingly well. The games were loosing traction and nobody wanted to watch them, so what did Snow do? He propagated it. He sold the tributes and the games as an active participant experience for the people of the capital and it worked, the loved it and bought into it. Propaganda by its definition is information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view. Which is what the hunger games are and have always been about in universe. They are a tool to remind people about the war and to keep everyone divided. Selling the tributes is a form of propaganda and it’s not something new to the series.

What are Katniss and Peeta doing for their entire games? Propagating their relationship because it gets them sponsors. Later in CF they have to keep up the image, spreading more falsehoods about their relationship, just to stay alive. Sotr was not the first hunger games book to feature propaganda but it was actively the worse use of it, because propaganda from real world experiences is usually sublet and plays on peoples emotions to get them to believe the falsehoods. What happened in sotr wasn’t propaganda it was erasure of information, which are two very different concepts that do not correlate together in the way that Collins is trying to portray them.

The games we see for Haymitch in CF were 100% the original vision and it’s very clear to me why she did not stick to it; because we already know what happened in his games and it’s boring to read the same thing twice. So she added a bunch of stuff and rewrote Haymitch (and Snow, because neither the Snow we saw in bosas or the og would be ranting about his high school crush to a tribute or making rookie poisoning mistakes) to make the story feel fuller, but it came at a cost to already established lore. I think sotr could have been exactly the same as what we were showing in CF but it shouldn’t have only been his games. The original concept could have been entertaining and original if she wrote only a portion, literally like six chapters at most about the games, and then everything else about his life afterwards and the next few years of tributes. I know why the book is the way that it is, but it doesn’t make it magically good or excuse it for being poorly written. Personally I never wanted a Haymitch book because I knew something like this could happen, which is the same reason I don’t want a Finnick book, neither of them work because we don’t actually care about the games themselves do we? Sure 48 kids is an interesting concept for a game, but it was barely used to its full potential in sotr. What I think people were actually more curious about was Haymitch’s deterioration, which we got in a half asssed way, because we knew he spent majority of the game itself on his own so we never would have gotten to know the other tributes properly regardless. But let me ask you now, what would you actually want to see: Finnick being in the arena and winning the games, somehow as a 14 year old despite the fact that we know he’s from a career district and it would be unlikely that nobody volunteered for him? Or what happened afterwards with Snow selling him as an escort and Finnick eventually finding love with Annie, maybe seeing how he gets pulled into the rebellion because he has a lot of good reasons to be in one? I know which one I’d pick and it will never be the one we get if it does happen.

As for the rebellion, I think we could have gotten a good buildup and set up for the early rebellion but again I don’t think it could ever be Haymitch, or at least not the way it was portrayed in sotr. The thing with rebellions however is they are unpredictable in their nature. They could take a few days to a few years to start. Katniss and Peeta almost killing themselves and almost leaving the capital without a victor is actually a very believable and frankly powerful spark to start a rebellion, as it was meant to be. I don’t doubt that the victors have all been talking between each other for years before that and contemplating an uprising, but the way it happened in sotr is laughable. Nobodies dies for trying to take down the capital: not Haymitch, not Beetee, not Mags, not Wiress, not Plutarch, and Snow knows about the whole thing. It’s so shrouded in plot armour it feels suffocating as a story, because there were no consequences.

[luminique]

oh i did have this thought like forever haunting me in my head but because its so cheesy and cringy, i quite hate writing it out.

just imagining slowly kissing lighter and then removing his glasses off of him while doing so. like ARKSBAKDB i hate myself for thinking about it but him and his shades have me wanting to kiss him stupid ! he’s definitely a mess after though and looks back at you with the soggiest eyes, as if asking for another without saying a single word.

and then he realizes his sunglasses are off and he’s turning all shades of red. immediately trying to get them back and this is when another kiss occurs, slowly slipping the glasses back on him. he clears his throat after and fixes up his appearance, trying to not focus on what had just occurred.

[milfbrainrot]

i feel like i type so much more than is reasonable when i do talk to people but i also don't get to socialize a ton so i just have soooo many words in me and if i'm like, tired or short on time, it is so much harder to restrain to the already-pushing-it point i can sometimes manage ;-;

[sonknuxadow]

ok. time for a bonus episode to the archiesonicposting saga. a little over a year later

[morelikesin]

The amount of ideas I have that I'm too embarrassed by so I never post them. Sliving 🩷

[wisteria-bae]

“Reader has black hair and blue eyes-“

THEN ITS NOT AN X READER!!???

Edit below cut

Hey guys, so when I made this post, I was extremely frustrated and annoyed. Now that I’m way more mellowed out and had the chance to read a lot of reactions and responses, let me act my age and actually clarify some things.

First, I want to apologize to those who were deeply upset by my post. My post overall was towards those who claim they don’t write for a specific audience, and yet put specific descriptions in their work. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with adding certain details to your reader, such as gender or body type. The issue comes in when you don’t properly title and tag it as so, or completely ignore it altogether.

If you see my post as an eye opener and want to change up your work, then you have every right to do so, but please do not think that this is an attack or jive directed at you. It’s just that some of us readers want exactly as promised. That’s like blindfolding someone, telling them that you’re gonna feed them an apple, and then making them bite into a banana - peel and all.

I know some writers have said that they want to be more inclusive in response to my criticism. If that is what you truly want, then by all means, but I cannot stress enough: write what YOU want to write. Do not feel as though you’re being pressured to change what you put out; it’s just a means of how you categorize it.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, respond, and engage with my original post. I truly appreciate the perspectives shared, they’ve helped me see things more clearly and refine my thoughts.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[httpsserene]

1-800-HELP-ME-PARK — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 charles leclerc x fem!bipoc!reader smau (ignore dates on tweets pls). fluff, humor & probably crack adjacent. explicit language. two or three uses of "y/n." charles’ canonically questionable parking. reader goes undercover on f1twt. charles gets cyberbullied /jk. big thx to the twt girlies who had threads of charles' bad parking photos ;p

synopsis: fans notice that charles’ cars are suddenly being parked perfectly. come to find out, his (secret) girlfriend has been parking his ferrari like butter.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚ this is like mid-level charles leclerc stan knowledge. bro put all of his skill points into racepace and forgot about parking his daily cars😭 enjoy reading, my loves xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco the planets must be in alignment because charles leclerc has perfectly parked his ferrari this afternoon 😱

tagged charles_leclerc

view comments

user1 i-i can't believe my eyes 😧

user2 it's only taken him a decade to learn how to parallel park LOL

user3 monaco native here! can confirm- his cars have decreased cosplaying as road obstructions for about three months :)

user4 THREE MONTHS ??!!? how is this the first time i'm hearing about this ???

user5 i don't believe this. did anybody SEE him park the car 🤨🤨🤨

user6 we're going to find out this photo was ai generated in a couple weeks haha

user7 take this down !!! we're supposed to keep this on the dl to avoid jinxing ourselves 🤬

user8 fr, i thought every monegasque was in agreement about staying hushed :(

user9 after almost flying over the hood of his cars TWICE on my bicycle- i'm glad that he's improving his parking skills ☺️

user9 HIS BROTHERS AND FRIENDS IN THE LIKES IS EVEN CRAZIER??! CHARLES STAND UP FOR YOURSELF ⁉️⁉️

user8 didn't you just say that you almost crashed into his (badly) parked car in the comment above ? user9 i fail to see how that's relevant rn

user10 charles woke up saying "i understand it now" and performed the best parallel parking known to man

user11 y'all are getting ahead of yourselves. there's a very high chance that it was valet parking 🙄

user5 this is what i'm saying!!! user12 lol what if he decided to hire a private driver 🤣 user13 charles would neverrrrr—remember how he acted on the start-stop challenge we Carlos 👀 user14 he DOES NOT serve passenger princess ☠️

twitter

imessage • charles -> yn

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

igstory • charles_leclerc has uploaded !

[caption; she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment 😉]

this story is unavailable. get notifications when charles_leclerc shares a story.

igstory • yninstagram has uploaded to their close friends story !

[caption; if anyone is looking for a chauffeur call me at 1-800-HELP-ME-PARK 😅]

franciscacgomes u have to take me on a joyride the next time i'm in monaco !!!

yninstagram yes! we'll ditch the boys for the day and collect some speeding tickets with the stradale ;p

yourfriend do you do weddings 👀

yninstagram weddings, birthdays, bachelor & bachelorette parties, etc. yourfriend how much do you charge? yninstagram 4 cheeseburger

charles_leclerc i thought i hired you for your exclusivity 😑

yninstagram shh mon amour you'll always be my favorite client xoxo

olliebearman if i get him for secret santa next year, i'm gifting him parking lessons 😆

yninstagram you'd be my favorite child if you did 🛐 olliebearman :DDD

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco charles leclerc posts and deletes a photo of an unknown woman to his instagram story in the midst of a rampant discussion of his suddenly improved parking! it's captioned: "she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment." was this an accidental post of the rumored chauffeur that's behind the perfect parking of his vehicles?

tagged charles_leclerc

view comments

user17 the winky face emoji is making me think she's more than just his chauffeur 👀👀👀

user18 we really do need to open the schools :/

user19 bc how do you read the caption and not see that it's blatant confirmation that he's hired a driver?

user20 i don't even have to see behind that champagne flute to know that she's a baddie 😮‍💨

user21 now that i think about it, i think i saw a woman with this exact outfit walking a dachshund that could’ve been leo!!! wish we could see more of her face to confirm ☹️

user22 does anybody else think that this was just meant to distract us from the original issue of charles being unable to park a car???

user23 talk about it!!! user24 i mean it doesn't really matter if he can park anymore now that he's paying somebody to do it for him 🤷‍♀️

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco the plot thickens 😱 the woman rumored to be charles leclerc's chauffer was caught parking his car and taking a photo afterward! this confirms her chauffeur status AND leads many to think that she's also the woman behind @/cl16sleftnipple on twitter. our discord members have hunted down what may be her instagram account too 🧐

view comments

user25 why do i feel so violated!!! his chauffeur has been a double agent the entire time 🤯

user26 tbh charles better be paying her beautifully !!!

user27 iktr bc i would not try to convince everybody on the internet that he can park when it's really me doing all the work!

user28 i think i'm in love with her

user29 who is this diva 💜

user30 next thing you know we're gonna find out she has a tumblr for f1 ff's 😭😭😭

user31 i think somebody is leaking the plot to the next trending netflix original movie 👄

user32 lwk i think i could convince her to drive me around in my prius 🤥

user33 you forget how to speak around hot women and only have $12.32 in your checking acct—you couldn't even convince her to breathe the same air as you bestie 😘 user32 i know you like to think that calling me bestie after reading me to filth will make up for it, but it just makes me want to strangle you even more :)

instagram • charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

charles_leclerc if you're going to reveal who cl16sleftnipple is, at least get her job title correct 😠 she's not my chauffeur, she's my girlfriend and parking princess 👸🏾🤗😘🥰🤭🤤😚

view comments

yninstagram can you believe that he doesn't like when i drive but he BEGS me to park ??? make it make sense 😅

charles_leclerc ma chérie you REFUSE to use the break pedal!!! yninstagram break pedals are 4 losers (i am speed 🏎)

user35 GIRLFRIEND???!!! 😵‍💫😵👻

user36 when you say girlfriend, do you mean that she's a friend who happens to be a girl orrrrrrrrrr?

charles_leclerc orrrrr girlfriend meaning l'amour de ma vie 🥰🥰🥰

user37 two pretty people in a happy relationship? 2025 isn't so bad 😌

user36 maybe the world is healing 🥹 user37 maybe charles leclerc wdc 2025 🫣 yninstagram pls don't jinx it 😩 go knock on wood rn 🫵🏾

user38 why did she go with "cl16sleftnipple" as her username???

yninstagram because it's my favorite one obv 😇 charles_leclerc what's wrong with my right nipple :(((( yninstagram idk it just looks at me weird sometimes... user38 how does a body part look at you weirdly 😀

user39 oh, this baddie is weird? say less, i'm sending her my credit card information rn

user40 charles leclerc core LMFAOOO

user41 waiiiiitttt does this mean she's not gonna use her fan acct anymore :(

user42 aw man i didn't even think about that; i was constantly on twt just to see what funny shit she was saying lol yninstagram if the people want more of cl16sleftnipple who am i to deny them 😌👐🏾

instagram • yninstagram

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

yninstagram AITA for saving the citizens of monaco by parking my (25 F) boyfriend's (27 M) cars for him because he's incapable of fitting within two lines without being a road hazard?

comments on this post have been limited

yourfriend TLDR: she lost the plot by starting a fan twt to try and save her bf's reputation (who's notoriously known for his shit parking) it backfired bc everybody thought she was his chauffeur

yourfriend (cont.) now charles has to suffer with the world knowing that he has his gf position his cars AND that he still can't park charles_leclerc this wasn't necessary 😒 yourfriend is that what you said when it was time to learn how to parallel park ☠️

lilymhe reminds me of the time charles blocked traffic picking you up from brunch last year 😆

franciscacgomes i remember when the honks started and yn was like "oh, that probably means charles is here!" lilyzneimer first brunch i went to with the wags and i left with tinnitus from the sound of car horns blaring 🥲 yninstagram sorry little lily! next meet up will be honk free :) yninstagram ...was v embarrassing to get into the car that's blocking traffic 🫠

oscarpiastri NTA 👍🏻

oscarpiastri is now a good time to say that charles almost backed his car into me before padel yesterday? charles_leclerc NO IT WILL NEVER BE A GOOD TIME TO SAY THAT yninstagram mb the electric scooter wasn't such a bad idea…

maxverstappen1 NTA 😹😹😹

lando thinking about how much money charles loses to parking fines 🤣

olliebearman not to pray on his downfall but

olliebearman when his license gets suspended can i get the spider 🥺 arthurleclerc NUH UH 🙅🏻‍♂️ i get the spider and you get the sf90 oscarpiastri i'll take the daytona then 👍🏻 pierregasly i think i can make room for the roma 😌 charles_leclerc yeah this isn't praying, it's PLANNING on my downfall 😒😒😒

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos used in header and throughout are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏✶𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

GETO SUGURU X FEM! READER

✶⋆.˚cw: smut, choking, pussy and face slapping, praise, degradation, recording, breeding, dumbfication, i love you’s

✶⋆.˚a/n: first one shot in a line set up for this whole concept ;) requested by anon.

Geto was a kinky man when he wanted to be. Loving the idea of recording each time he fucked you. Balls slapping noisily onto your wet clit as his hand curled in your hair. Lifting your face up into the camera with a degrading coo.

It was a fit of pure boredom that brought him to take it one step further. Convincing you that you two should share the videos. Make everyone see just how good he was destroying you in bed.

When you had agreed, you had never expected the millions of notifications you received within the first week. The comments on how hot you two were as a couple. How hot Geto looked fucking into you. How hot you looked getting fucked by Geto.

You even received some suggestions on videos your new “fans” wanted to see. Hundreds of thousands of people willing to watch, to get off to, anything that you two decided to post.

It was scary and amusing, but Geto was all for it. His chest swelled with pride knowing that so many men now wanted you but couldn’t have you. Knowing that he was the only one who could fuck you so damn good.

You never expected to find yourself agreeing, your lip between your teeth as you read through the comments. Some of the bold suggestions making your thighs clench at the thought of your boyfriend doing these things to you.

The account quickly rose to the top as the weeks went by. And you never got tired of the many positions Geto would flip you into, fucking into you meanly while praising you so degradingly. Showing the world how fast you turned to putty in his hold.

You attracted many different audiences. Your favorite were those girls who swooned not at him, but at you two on a whole. The way he held you, the way he checked up on you when he was done being rough. The aftercare. They thought your relationship was perfect, and would never fail to let you know.

It wasn’t long until people began demanding more of you two in a non porn setting, your other social medias blowing up with those who just couldn’t get enough of your lives. How much cuter Geto was with you out of bed. The many dates he took you on, the gifts he bought you. Everything.

It became something that your fans loved to see. Your relationship on a whole. Their little comments like ‘so cute!’ , ‘i love them so much’ , ‘you guys need to get married’ , ‘my favorite couple ever’ never failed to make your heart swell.

They respected your privacy of course. But would take anything that was put out for their consumption. Porn or otherwise.

—

“𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃’𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊”

Was what the title of your latest video read, your fans quick to click on the thumbnail the second it got posted. Many already positioning themselves on their beds. Others plugging in their headphones around coworkers or friends. They knew from a mere four seconds in that they already loved what they saw.

Your hands and knees were trembling as your back arched. Fat tears flowing down your cheeks as you begged your boyfriend to touch you. “Please Sugu— please touch me. Wanna feel your cock so bad.” You moaned, wiggling your ass towards him with a needy mewl.

“Does my greedy girl want me to fuck her dumb? Is that what you want pretty?”

“Mhm, need you.”

He was more than happy to comply, not taking long until he was fucking into you roughly from behind. Your body jerking forward each time his hips hammered against your ass.

“S-suguu. Feels so good,” You mewled, Geto’s hand snaking around your throat to pull you up against his chest, forcing you to make eye contact with the blinking red light in front of you.

His breath fanned your ear, lips ghosting over your skin as he groaned deeply. “If only you could see what they see baby. See yourself moan like a slut in heat while that pretty lil’ pussy sucks me in.”

You let out a loud hiccuped moan, Geto’s cock slamming meanly into your g spot before fucking deep inside you. The small outline of his tip barely visible to the device’s lens. “See how much of a mess you are f’me.”

He felt so good. And your head was spinning as he fucked into you with no mercy. Your shaky whimpers echoing throughout the room as Geto molded your pussy around his cock.

“Nngh— sugu ‘m so full. Love your cock s’ muchh.” Your words were slurred as his other hand reached around to rub small circles on your clit. Your sopping pussy leaking lewdly onto the sheets below as he continued to roll his hips up into you.

“Tell them who’s fucking you so good baby.” He grunted, hand on your throat landing two soft slaps onto each of your teary cheeks before settling right back into place on your neck. The light sting pulling a string of whiney moans past your drool filled lips as you pressed further into him.

“You are. You are Sugu. You’re f-fucking me so good ‘nd i love it— haah. Wan’ you to fuck me like this forever.” You babbled, words muffled by an incoherent cry as your hands gripped his muscular arm. Using him for support when your head grew fuzzy, blanking out everything but the feeling of him inside you.

Geto smirked, “That’s my girl.”

You yelped when you were shoved into the mattress. Your back arched deeply with your torso flat on the sheets. Geto’s hand on the back of your neck forcing you to stay cheek down as he switched up his pace.

The new position allowed him to hit so much deeper. Your needy cries going straight to his cock as you drooled messily. Eyes rolling back with a loud moan every time he gave you a harsh thrust forward, sensitive nipples rubbing on the bed till you were clenching down repeatedly. Loud squelches filling the air as your pussy coated his cock in its slick.

“Sugu, ‘m gonna cum.” A trembling cry. “‘M so close.” You could feel your stomach tightening, breathing getting heavier as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“Yeah? Gonna make a fucking mess for me. Show them how good i fucked you today?” He cooed, watching as you nodded dumbly before letting out a choked moan. “Mhm.”

Geto groaned, palm landing onto your clit so he could watch you jerk with a whimper. Your body quivering when he pulled back you up, arms hooking under your legs to lift you off the bed. Body being moved up and down as he used you as his personal fleshlight. Bouncing you on and off his cock till you were crying uncontrollably, his harsh kisses to your sweet spot shooting to every sensitive nerve in your pussy.

“Suguruu. I- nngh, you’re— ahh.” You didn’t know what you were trying to say, your body being manhandled however he liked for your tight pussy to stroke his length. Your toes curling as your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Shhh baby, it’s okay. Just take it yeah? Doing so fucking well.” Your legs remained dangling over his arms as he used you to both your delights, feeling yourself ready to let go with another shrieked cry. “F-fuckk. ‘M gonna— oh god.”

“You know they love to see that pretty face when you cum baby, look up at the camera f’me.”

You did as you told, head spinning as you attempted to keep it up right. Focusing on the delicious stretch of your walls to accommodate your boyfriend’s girth.

“Go on baby. Let go. ‘M right there behind you.”

Your mouth hung open in what your fans liked to call an adorable scream as your legs shook. Glossy eyes making content with the camera as you squirted messily. The force of the clear liquid making Geto grunt when it threatened to push his cock out of you.

“There you go.. fuck— that’s my good girl. ‘M gonna fill you up so good now. Gonna stuff that tight pussy to the brim with my cum.” He husked, movements getting sloppy as his abs tensed. Lips parted in deep breaths as his eyes rolled back, something that your audience loved to see.

His cock twitching within your warmth with a string of cracked groans when he buried himself deep. Allowing himself to pump you full of the creamy liquid, painting your insides in sticky white.

He pulled out slowly, still holding you up so the camera could pick up the way your little gaped hole fluttered around nothing. His cum running down your puffy folds in thick spurts. “Look at that baby, sopping pussy’s making a big mess.”

Geto set you down with a smile before kissing you sweetly, taking you into his arms and rocking you back and forth in a hug while placing tiny pecks all over your face. “You did so fucking amazing. That was hot.” Leaning into your ear so that his next words wouldn’t be picked up. “If they don’t jerk off to this i promise you i will.”

You could only hum with flushed cheeks , falling into his chest with a small giggle. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, “Ya hear that? She can’t feel her legs.” He grinned at the camera making you both laugh, his attention turning back to you with another passionate kiss. “Don’t worry, i’m gonna get you all mice and cleaned up okay? Gonna take real good care of you.”

“M’kay, love you Sugu.”

“I love you more sweetheart.”

—

It was no surprise the amount of love you got for the video. It was hard to believe that your account could grow anymore than it already had. The comments seemed to be hooked on how Geto could go from fucking you relentlessly to being the sweetest boyfriend telling you that he loves you.

That amongst thousands of men making it known that they came to the sight of you squirting, that one made Geto a little angry. And the thousands of women begging your boyfriend to be next, like that would ever happen.

You refrained the urge to respond to all the demands for more with the fact that you had loads of others coming up. Some with your boyfriend alone and others with.. guests. But they would have to have the patience to see for themselves.

[heartyluv]

🎥˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° ✩

Note: Y’all this one is dirty, omg LOLL. I enjoyed writing it so, I hope you enjoy reading it. ♡

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,418

Summary: Caleb makes sure your ex knows that you’re a happily married woman.

PossessiveCamboy!Caleb/Reader

Marrying the man whose content you silently consumed for months was not what you expected, but it’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.

It was random the day you stumbled upon Caleb’s page. You were one of his first few dozen supporters at the time when he only posted erotic audios. You were entertained and turned on after hearing him moan and whimper into his microphone, touching yourself and wishing it was you that he was pleasing.

You left likes and even paid for tiered subscriptions where he offered more filthy work. It was as he grew in popularity that you started feeling more comfortable to actually leave comments, figuring you’d be in the ocean of thousands and one of the last people he’d respond to.

But, it threw you completely off when he actually replied to your comment where you told him how much you loved his work.

“Thank you, pretty girl. I’m so thankful for your support. I do it for you.”

If you were crazy enough, you would’ve tattooed it on your forehead. After that, you decided to leave more comments and he replied to every single one. It made you feel special, in a weird way.

As Caleb grew more, he started to produce actual videos of himself from the neck down. You’ve never seen a body or a cock so perfect. Every time he stroked himself, whispered how close he was to coming, it was like you could feel him inside of you.

About a year after, he proposed the idea of revealing his face if his fans helped him reach a goal he was going for. It was like the internet broke with how fast they reached and surpassed it.

He was absolutely gorgeous, the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Those soft eyes, that fluffy hair, and those perfect lips had you mesmerized. The way he laughed and joked with fans on that livestream like they were friends and not people who paid to watch him come was oddly comforting. It reminded you that he really was human at the end of the day.

But, you found yourself unable to leave comments anymore. For some reason, it felt like he was a secret that was too famous for you to enjoy. It was selfish, you knew that. You still paid for his subscription, but you stopped interacting and stopped watching.

The man ended up messaging you privately, saying that he was just checking in on you. You were floored. Not only had he remembered who you were, but he took the time to actually contact you. From that point on, you two just clicked and had late night texts, exchanged phone numbers, had video calls, to eventually meeting him in person after you two found out you lived in the same state.

It was history from there. You two dated for a few years before he proposed to you. Now, you live in your shared home while he still creates content for people’s pleasure with you occasionally joining.

You never would’ve thought you’d do something like this, but with Caleb, you trusted him and you were comfortable.

It started when Caleb did a livestream where he was stern and clear about his relationship with you once you had gotten serious.

“I’m going to continue to create. I still enjoy it and my girl is very accepting of that. But, you will respect her and me, should you ever see her. I won’t hesitate to handle anything that’s even remotely disrespectful to her.”

His fans were surprisingly welcoming. You offered to be on a stream one night where Caleb was putting together this aircraft with hundreds of little blocks. Besides erotic content, your husband played video games, built little projects, and interacted with fans like it was a sleepover.

They absolutely loved you. Many said you were funny, pretty, and radiant. They loved you so much that they suggested him doing videos with you. After making sure you were really okay with it, you and Caleb tried it out and it’s been amazing.

Getting paid to fuck your husband and play games with him? Who could ask for anything better?

You started gaining popularity on your other social networks, but you kept that other part of you mainly where you and Caleb posted your videos. If anyone followed you, it was because they genuinely liked and enjoyed you as an individual and you couldn’t be more thankful for such a lovely mass of people.

Recently though, you’ve had a little bit of an issue that you haven’t shared with your husband. Your ex.

It’s obvious that he’s seen what you do now. He followed you randomly one day, but you thought nothing of it. You two split amicably, so there was no bad blood. At lease you thought. Then he started to like your posts and leave comments. You ignored him, of course.

It got worse when he started actually sending requests to the page you and Caleb posted to. The only way you knew it was him was because he used a picture of his two dogs as the profile picture. You always got to them before Caleb saw and deleted it. You blocked him, but he just made more accounts. Your ex didn’t care that you were married, didn’t care that there was legit videos online of you getting fucked by your husband. He still pushed his luck.

You and Caleb are open to requests and if the money’s right and what’s being asked is reasonable, you’ll fulfill a fan’s desires and send it to them for their private pleasure.

Your ex takes advantage of that feature and sends the same thing every time: I want this to be personal. Send me a video of you.

A measly $50 was always attached to it. It was disrespectful and you knew Caleb. He’d lose his fucking mind. It’s why you hid it and handled it the best way you knew how. But that all went to shit the day your ex sent multiple of the same request from different accounts.

Caleb saw the influx of repeated notifications. He was only upset with you for hiding this from him. He could only protect you if he was kept in the loop. But he was fuming with your ex.

“I’ll kill him,” he said to you as you stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and head down. You felt embarrassed.

“Baby, look at me,” he stepped forward, cupping your soft face in his large hand. “It’s alright. You’re okay, we’re okay,” he sighs. “Do you know why he could be doing this?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you looked up into his eyes. “He used to do dumb things like this. The whole trolling thing was his personality. He’s just being a dick.”

“You think he wants you back?” he quirked a brow.

“I have no clue,” you answer honestly.

Caleb hums, tracing your lip with his thumb, then an idea sparks in his mind. “Why don’t we give him what he wants.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Caleb, hon… What the hell are you talking about? I’m not sending him a damn thing.”

“No, you’re not,” he confirms. “But we are.”

Your propped up leg swayed side to side as you laid down on the bed in you and Caleb’s room. You were anxious as all hell, but the idea of making your ex pay for a video of you getting fucked by your man made your body hot.

You and Caleb were already naked and you watched how his half-hard cock bobbed up and down as he walked over to the lamp to set the phone in front of it to get a good angle of you two and the bed. Already, you were aching for him.

Before he sets it down, he presses the red button to start the recording and smiled mischievously to the camera. “You wanted a video, here’s your video.”

After it’s set up, he’s on top of you in seconds. He devours your mouth, sticking his tongue down your throat while his cock gently brushes against your pussy. The way you moan into his mouth makes him grind against you with unbridled passion.

“Let me eat, baby,” he whispers before kissing your lips again. “Let me taste my pussy.”

You’ll never get used to his dirty mouth. You fucking love it.

“But I want your cock,” you mewl prettily. He chuckles, kissing your neck.

“We can eat together.”

You two stand and Caleb lays down first. He turns to the camera as you climb on top, your pussy in his face and his cock in yours. “I’ll make sure to tell you what she tastes like so you can dream about it.”

You smile to yourself and Caleb is quick to pull you down, pressing his nose into your cunt and feasting on you like you’re the last supper. Your back arches as you cry out, whining at how good his tongue fucks your tight hole. “Absolutely divine,” he growls and mumbles into your flesh, staking his claim.

“Put my cock in that pretty mouth, baby. Let me feel you,” he says quickly so that he can get back to leaving long licks with his tongue flat against your pussy lips. You open your mouth, sucking him down and into your throat. Your hums vibrate around his length, making him shudder.

You stroke him as you suck, gagging and spitting on his perfect dick. You pull off of him with a small pop, admiring how the precum seeps out of his tip. You use it to lubricate him, licking up the semi-salty liquid like ice cream.

“How do I taste?” you ask him lustfully through a whimper as your hand works his cock. His spits on your pussy, licking and sucking your clit to make you almost lose your balance.

“I did say I’d describe it, didn’t I?” he teases. “You taste like…” he licks you again as if he’s making sure one more time. “My fucking wife.”

That makes you moan, clenching around his tongue as he gives your hole what it’s begging for.

“I want you to fuck me Caleb,” you beg as his licks further up and closer to your other hole. You shiver, pleasure fueled tears brimming your eyes.

Caleb wants you to come on his face, but how can he let his pretty little wife be deprived of the cock that belongs to her any longer?

“Come sit on it,” he says seductively.

Your pussy feels like it’s dripping. You climb off of him, letting the camera get a good shot of your breasts and your entire plush body. Caleb takes your hand like you’re getting ready to board a carriage, biting his lip with a smile as he guides his princess onto her noble steed.

You can’t deal with anymore foreplay or teasing, needing your husband’s cock deep inside you. You kiss him once you’re on top again. You like how he’s giving you control, but still making it very clear that you belong to him and only him.

You taste yourself on his tongue and hope that his taste is giving him the same high that it gave you.

“Put me in,” he mumbles.

You’re a pro at this by now, it’s muscle memory. You don’t even need to see. You reach between you two, grasping his length and lining him up with where he needs to be before gently bringing your hips down. Your body sucks him in, already familiar with how perfect you fit together.

You start to bounce, your ass rippling against his firm thighs as his hands roughly grab your hips to guide you. His cock kisses your cervix, making you ride him harder.

His hand comes up to grip your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “Let me taste it.”

“Yeah?” you say softly as your breasts jump.

He nods, opening his mouth for you. And you spit in it, your core clenching with how he swallows and licks his lips like he’s been given a tasty treat.

The camera catches all of this, the slight squeaks of the bed, the slapping of the skin, the lewd words and actions.

His hand grasps your throat when you sit up, trailing down your body as he cups a breast to quickly tease a taut nipple, and down further for his thumb to stimulate your aching clit.

Caleb reached out with his other hand to grab the phone, getting the perfect angle of the way your slick sticks between the both of you and how he easily slides in and out. His cock is glistening with your juices while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

Your hand comes down to caress his hard stomach, your large diamond ring to represent your union glistening in the frame.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls as your hips stutter, letting him feel how close you are.

“This is all mine,” he declares as you look down at him with a tired smile.

“Yours,” you repeat. “Oh, Caleb baby… I’m gonna come…”

“Cream on my cock, love... Let him see who this pussy weeps for.”

That’s the final thing you need. You brace your hands on his thighs behind you as your orgasm takes control of your soul. You come hard and fast and he spills deep inside of you at the same time, groaning your name as you scream his. The mix of cum starts to pool out of where you’re connected and your legs shake as you rest, letting the sticky substance get on your inner thighs.

Caleb brings the camera closer to your raw pussy, letting it capture how deep he is, how messy he’s made you. He uses his thumb to smear his spend all over, anywhere he can, biting his lip at how you whine.

Caleb flips the camera to show his flushed and thoroughly fucked face. He smiles.

“Thanks for the $50 and don’t message my wife again. Understood? I’m sure you can see how happy she is. Back the fuck off.”

He ends the video and you let your breath return to normal as he sends it and accepts the payment.

“Did it?” you ask softly.

“Done,” he nods. “You okay?”

You lean down, loving how he’s still inside of you. You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thanks to you, I’m perfect.”

[chahnniesroom]

too close to home

pairing: none (platonic ot8 & female reader)

summary: as the only female of stray kids, you've always felt a little out of place. this comeback, the comments and criticism seem to hit a little too close to home and you start to think that maybe the group is better off without you.

word count: 8.5k

tags/warnings: 9th member au, hurt/comfort, angst, mean fans, anxious thinking, insecurities, overthinking

a/n: this is my first fic for my appreciation event! big thank you to everyone who has supported me and sorry this took so long to post.

special shoutout to @kangaracha who is basically the only reason i was able to finish this fic! she was my biggest cheerleader throughout my writing and if you would like to read an amazing 9th member fic, please please go read queenmaker.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

You had known from the start that it would be difficult being in a co-ed group. It was rare, especially in K-pop. But being outnumbered eight to one? It was unheard of.

You had been just as surprised all those years ago, when the company had pulled you into a room and offered you a position in the boy group that they were about to debut.

You had heard about the team that Chan had put together, every trainee had gossiped about how JYPE was trying something new with a self-formed team. You hadn't paid too much attention to it, you were busy enough with preparing for your own evaluations and the possibility of being included in what everybody had thought was a boys group hadn't even crossed your mind.

You had accepted the position almost immediately.

At that point, you had been a trainee for almost three years, but had only been considered for debut less than a handful of times. You knew with each line-up that hadn't worked out, you were closer to being forced to give up on the idea of becoming an idol. If you rejected the offer this time, you might not get another and you had been ready to do anything to achieve your dream. 

Plus, you knew there was a high chance that they'd drop you from the group anyway. The position brought a lot of interest to the group, but you knew the company would be watching closely to determine whether it was worth the risk or not. 

It had been a bit of a rocky start, but now the nine of you were close, you had to be when you spent most of your waking time together. You considered the boys to be your second family and you knew that they felt the same way. 

It was just that there was clearly a difference in the dynamic when you were and weren’t with the group. It wasn’t necessarily bad just… different. The boys never excluded you or made you feel like you weren’t part of the group and you had great individual relationships with each of the members. 

It was inevitable though, you had never shared a dorm with the group, especially earlier in your career when you were less familiar and it would have been entirely unacceptable. You knew that this was the main reason you didn’t feel quite as part of the group, there was just a level of closeness that was formed when you actually lived with someone.

Well, it was that and the nagging guilt because you knew that Chan had hand-picked every member of Stray Kids himself.

Every member except you.

While the members had promised that they were the ones who had the final say, you knew it wasn't quite what they had expected. All of you had been desperate to debut though and even if it wasn't ideal, nobody was going to say anything that might jeopardize this chance.

Still, you could tell that the boys did their best to include you and for the most part, they succeeded. Even early on when things had been a little bit awkward between you, they were fiercely protective. In interviews, they insisted over and over that they wanted you in the group and it had been nice to hear, even if you knew they were just saying it for the cameras. 

They frequently invited you over for dinner or just to hang out, but you couldn't help feeling jealous when it was time for you to leave at the end of each night. It wasn't anything you could change though, so you just tried to appreciate their company while you had it.

So when the company brings up the idea of new dorm arrangements, you're surprised and a bit confused when they don't immediately inform you of where you'll be staying and kick you out of the meeting room. You've never participated in the discussions that the boys have regarding roommates, there has never been any reason to. 

You're shocked by how easily things fall into place, even more so when Chan approaches you, asking if you'd feel comfortable living with him and Jeongin. They assure you that any of the pairings would be happy to have you stay with them though, and that they'd also understand if you preferred to live on your own.

You were hesitant at first. It had been out of the question when you had first debuted. Even if you and the boys had been comfortable with it, which you weren’t, the company would have totally rejected the idea of one girl living with eight boys.

Instead, their solution had been to force you to remain in the trainee dorm even after your debut which meant constantly listening to jealous girls criticize anything and everything about you. It had been exhausting, partly because you were getting used to balancing schedules with practice, but also because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at them. You were all too familiar with the disappointment and frustration that came with watching the people around you succeeding.

You had briefly considered asking about sharing with the boys when the dorms had split in half because you knew you needed to get out of the toxic environment the other girls were creating, but then the company had offered you an apartment to yourself. It had been one of the easiest decisions you had ever made. 

It had been too good to be true, though. The apartment had given you the privacy that you had craved, there were a multitude of issues that almost made you miss being in the trainee dorms. Whether you moved to a new apartment on your own or into one of the dorms with the boys, you knew that it would be an improvement.

You’re curious what living with the boys would be like and honestly, you’re a bit lonely in your current apartment. It only takes a day or two of thinking before you confirm that you’d like to join them.

The moving process is quick too, at least for you. The boys offered to help you move, but you adamantly refused. Your place had been so tiny that you didn't have the space to store many things and you didn't like shopping that much anyway so all of your clothes fit into the couple of large suitcases that you kept under your bed. Since most of the furniture had come with the room, you were able to bring everything over to the new dorm before the boys had even finished packing.

It's hard to settle in at first. You don't have any siblings and have never had to live with boys so it takes some getting used to. Luckily both Chan and Jeongin are quite careful about being respectful of your space. 

It's also a relief that you get to divide up some of the housework that you used to have to do all on your own. Even though it's not too much, it's nice to have more time in your day for other things and the three of you have developed a system that works well and feels natural.

Chan is meticulously clean and although you don't think you're that messy, you’re more careful to keep things in the right place. The worst part is that you know Chan won't complain or nag you if you leave your things around, he just quietly cleans up your messes which makes you feel both touched and a bit guilty.

You have no regrets about moving in with them, especially when you start to get more busy. It's nice to be living with people who have the same or similar schedules to you so you don't have to worry about losing track of time and being late to things. 

Not only that, but you feel like you have more support. Jeongin reminds you to eat regular meals and Chan checks in when he notices that you're up later than usual. The three of you chat more than you did before and now have a number of different inside jokes.

You're especially grateful because you can already sense that this comeback is going to be hard on you. It's not the songs that have you concerned, all the recording finished smoothly and you're more than happy with how your parts turned out. You also really like the concept that's being proposed for the cover art and all the music videos.

It's the dance that's the problem.

As a trainee, you had always excelled in dancing and had actually had been assigned the role of main dancer in some of the girl groups that you were considered for. It made it especially hard to come to terms with the fact that when you had joined Stray Kids, you weren't even included in the dance line. You knew that your singing was nice and your voice added diversity to the group, but it had never been what you were most confident in and you felt inadequate compared to Seungmin and Jeongin.

But when it comes to this title track, it's especially obvious why you're not considered as one of the lead dancers. By lunchtime, everyone has memorized the moves, you included, but the choreography is definitely more suited for male dancers. No matter how much you focus on trying to match the style of everyone else, you're sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Most of the members take a short break for lunch, but you're determined to keep practicing and Minho is willing to coach you through the parts that you're struggling with the most. On a technical level, you're hitting most of the moves, but you still haven't been able to do a runthrough that doesn't elicit at least a few corrections. You can tell that Minho is running out of patience and you're even more frustrated than he is.

Luckily the rest of practice is working on the different formations and angles for filming the music video, dance practice, and future performances. The details are less important and everyone is mainly focused on not crashing into each other.

You try to sneak in as many solo practice sessions as you can, but by the time filming for the dance practice rolls around, you’re still not feeling confident. In fact, you’ve been dreading the schedule for days and you feel a little queasy every time you think about it. It's far from your first dance practice filming, but something about this one just feels more daunting.

The morning of filming, you force yourself to eat a decent breakfast, knowing that skipping it would just make dancing more difficult for yourself. Chan had woken up early to prepare a simple meal while you and Jeongin had helped set the table and clean up afterwards. You're a bit more jittery than usual and you're pretty sure both of the boys have noticed, but they don't comment which you appreciate.

Everyone goes through hair and makeup fairly quickly, there's no elaborate outfits and crazy makeup for a more casual video like this. Your bad feeling for today just worsens when you see that while the rest of the boys are in their usual loose fitting sweats and shirts, you've been given a tight fitting outfit that reveals a bit more of your midriff than you usually like to show off. Even though you can't deny that it's a flattering look, it just makes you self conscious, feeling like you stood out even more than you usually did standing beside the guys.

Determined to power through filming, you warm up as quickly as you can so that you can spend as much time as possible reviewing the moves with the rest of the boys before the crew finishes setting up.

Your stomach is a flurry of butterflies as you get in position to start filming, even though you know that usually the first try is a throwaway. Not only is this the first time filming for the day, but the group hasn't actually done a performance of your new single, only practices.

You monitor the recording carefully. There's a few things to improve with the camera angles and position, that was to be expected, but you still have the nagging feeling that something about your dancing doesn't match the rest of the group.

You try to make your movements bigger in the next run through, while still looking natural and staying in time with the music. It's not quite right though and each time you try again, there's more and more things that you're unhappy with.

You can tell the rest of the group isn't pleased with how things are going either. You've been doing this long enough that these dance practices usually only take a couple hours to record, but now it's been at least three and none of the takes have even been considered as a keeper. A few times you haven't even been able to make it to the end of the song before someone messes up.

Your choreographer is in the back of the room and although he hasn't explicitly called you out, you can feel his gaze on you the longer this takes. 

“Come on guys,” Minho complains after a short break. “Focus! Let's get it done this time.” You watch as his eyes flicker towards where you're standing for the faintest of moments as he says it. It feels like a blow to the stomach.

You hate disappointing people, you're only human after all, but something feels even worse when you know it's the other members that you're letting down. Especially when it comes to dance, because you've always wanted to impress Minho and his notoriously high standards. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach as you push through your growing fatigue and take your position in front of the camera again.

As soon as both the director and choreographer announce that you're finished for the day, almost everybody collapses on the spot. One-takes are always the most exhausting and everybody has to focus on keeping their movements sharp because it's extremely obvious when you aren't in sync.

You, on the other hand, make your way to the screens where they're showing the playback. Sweat is dripping from your neck and forehead and you absent-mindedly swipe it away as you watch. Someone drapes a small towel over your head and you look over to see that Minho and Hyunjin have crowded behind you to take a look.

“It's good,” one of the managers comments.

Instead of agreeing, Minho hums noncommittally. You feel yourself tense up.

“What?” the manager asks. “Don't tell me you want to do it again.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Minho says mildly. 

“We can do another take,” the director offers. From behind him, one of the camera people groans quietly. You try not to wince at the sound and only partially succeed.

“I think this is the best we're going to get,” Minho replies, before he turns and walks back to where his things are, effectively ending the discussion.

“Sorry for making everyone stay late,” you say quietly, bowing quickly before trailing after Minho. Hyunjin eyes you weirdly as he keeps pace.

“Why'd you say that?” he asks as he packs his bag.

“I felt bad that they had to stay so long,” you say, confused. “We normally tell them that if filming goes over.”

“No.” Hyunjin pauses his movement to study you. You can't help but shrink away, feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope “We normally thank them for their hard work. You made it sound like it was your fault.”

“It's just been a long morning,” you deflect. “Are you heading back to the dorms now?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking sweat everywhere. “Have to shower and I have a bit of time before my vocal lesson. Want to head back together?”

“You go ahead first,” you reassure him. “I have a couple things left to do at the company so I'll stick around for a bit longer.”

“Sure. If you're finished early, feel free to drop by. We can have dinner or something together,” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good! I don't know if I'll have time, but I'll definitely see I can join,” you promise.

Lying always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you know there's no way you're going to sacrifice time that you could be using to improve the dance just to hang out.

You stay late in the studio that night. Your only other schedule for the day is fittings for the music video and all the music shows, which finishes pretty quickly. Since you don't have much of an appetite anyway, you choose to skip Hyunjin’s dinner offer to continue practicing more. You had asked one of the managers to send you a copy of the dance practice and each time you replay it, the pit in your stomach seems to grow.

You lose track of time, picking apart each and every move to try and figure out what you're doing wrong. It's not until Minho knocks on the door and enters, startling you in the middle of yet another runthrough, that you realise how long you've been practicing.

“You still have so much energy?” Minho calls out as he walks closer to you.

“Just had a few things I wanted to fix up before I went home,” you explain in between breaths. 

“And?”

“And what?” you ask.

“Did you fix them?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as he scans your sweaty form and the empty room. “Have you been practicing this whole time? You've been here so long that even Channie-hyung went home. He asked me if you were at our place.”

“What? I-”

“It's almost 2am,” he says gently. “It's time to go home.”

“Can I do one more run through?” you ask sheepishly. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here, I just want to make sure-”

“You've been practicing long enough.” Minho's voice turns stern and he grabs your hand to lead you to the couch to sit. “Did you even eat?”

“I wasn't hungry,” you say quietly.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho scolds you. “You need to fuel your body if you're going to work it so hard, you know we've talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to practice more,” you say, staring down at your hands. You’re not allowed to pick at your nails since you just got them done, so you settle for fidgeting with one of the rings that you’re wearing. The sharp edges of the gemstones prick at your fingers but you can’t get yourself to stop. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just couldn’t get the dance right today. We had to film it so many times.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n-ah?” Minho asks, bewildered. “We weren’t- you weren’t the reason we had to redo the dance so many times.”

You look up at him finally and don’t see any of the annoyance that you were expecting. The concern and genuine confusion that you find instead catches you off guard.

“What? But- On our fourth take during the second chorus, my legwork was so sloppy compared-”

“Hannie literally forgot which direction we were supposed to move and he almost knocked into me,” Minho interrupts. “There was no way we were going to be able to use the footage, that’s why we stopped early.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

Minho taps a finger to his lips, deep in thought.

“Fifth take, well that was my fault, so we're not going to talk about that. Sixth try, Yongbokkie and Innie both missed a cue and crouched later than everybody else, that one made me want to pull out my hair.” He shakes his head.

“That’s when we took a break,” you realise.

“Yeah, we were hoping it would help us have a clean run. Jinnie had sweated through his makeup and needed touch-ups anyway.”

“I thought you guys were annoyed at me,” you say in a small voice. “You didn't seem happy with the final video.”

“It wasn't my best take,” Minho admits. “I kind of wanted to do it again, but I didn't want you guys to have to stay even later.”

“Did you even see yourself?” You reach for your phone and unlock it to show the paused dance practice video. “Look, I've been trying to copy how fluid you moved in this part. See there? I looked so stiff compared to you, it's awful.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says carefully. 

“And look at this move,” you say, skipping ahead a couple seconds. “I couldn't quite-”

You cut yourself off mid-sentence when Minho leans forward to pluck your phone our of your hands and throw it off to the side. You don't even fight him, just stare with wide eyes, scared of what he's going to say next. 

“You were fine, you did well. But even if you did mess up, it's okay. This dance is tiring, it's challenging. We all have bad days and it's okay to make mistakes.”

When you don’t say anything in response, he slowly moves closer and envelops you in a tight hug. You sniffle a little bit and when he starts to rub slow but firm circles onto your back, you can't stop the few tears that escape.

“Hey, what's going through your mind, huh?” he asks in a low voice. “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

“I just don't want to let you guys down,” you say.

“Y/n-ah, you're not letting us down if we have to do a few more takes on a dance practice,” Minho says incredulously. “Is that all that's been worrying you?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I was just nervous about filming the dance and disappointed when it didn't go like I wanted it to.”

“Silly girl,” Minho says, ruffling your hair affectionately. “You're doing just fine. It's okay to be nervous, but you don't have to be pushing yourself so hard. Come on, it's time to go home, we have an early schedule tomorrow.”

You follow him meekly as he leads you out of the building and to where a driver is waiting to take you back to your dorm. Even though you feel a bit better knowing that you weren't the cause of the schedule overruns, you're still not satisfied with how you're dancing, but you know that it's pointless to pick a fight. Not only is Minho just as stubborn as you, he's not afraid to bring in reinforcements and you'd hate for the rest of the group to catch on to how you've been spending most of your free time. They already have enough to worry about, the last thing you want is to add to that.

Moving forward, you don't stop practicing, but you do take more care to try and pretend that it's not eating up all your free time. You stop using your favourite studio, you know the dance so well that most of the time you don't even have music playing, and you make sure not to stay out late enough that it's noticeable.

You start to feel a little silly with how much time you've devoted to this, significantly more than the rest of the members, especially when the music video filming goes by without a hitch. By the time the Studio Choom video is filmed, you're a lot more confident about the performance and even starting to enjoy yourself.

The rest of the preparations for the comeback start to fly by, especially after the album announcement goes live. There's not a day that goes by that's not filled with different photoshoots or interviews.

Before you know it, the album is released and even though your schedule is absolutely packed, you spend all your free time reading through comments and reactions. Maybe it was cliche to say, but you really did treasure hearing from Stays and comebacks were always when you felt closest to them.  You especially liked being able to interact with them on a more personal level.

You were almost certain that you were the most active member on Bubble, you liked to send daily updates on what you were doing and reminders to Stay about maintaining their health. It did sting that you were also pretty certain that you had the least subscriptions and likely some of them only stuck around because you thought it was funny to send candid photos of the boys every so often.

You had always looked forward to fan signs the most though. Before you had debuted, you had loved seeing footage of the cute accessories, silly pick-up lines, and heartfelt messages from the fans. Not only that, but it was the only chance to speak to fans in person, even if it was only for a minute or two.

You were immensely grateful for everyone that supported you, but maybe it was your eager anticipation for fan signs that left you feeling so disappointed and empty. You had slowly grown used to Stays ignoring you for the boys, for always being the one that didn't receive any gifts to play with, for having the smallest stack of letters at the end of each event. But somehow you were always hopeful that the next time would be different.

Of course, it wasn't like you resented everybody else in the group. In fact, you were genuinely glad that they were enjoying themselves because they deserved it. They worked hard, were amazing performers and talented at creating music, and as a result, the fans loved them.

You, on the other hand, were just missing something, and it seemed that nothing you could do would change that. You had bounced through different positions, focused on vocals, dance, rap, music production, writing lyrics, and had enjoyed yourself thoroughly the whole time. If only the fans had liked it as much as you.

At least with fan calls, it wasn't as blatantly obvious that you were the least popular, least favourite member of the group. In fact, sometimes you were glad because you knew the boys often had crazy fans who had absurd or cringy requests while most of the time you spoke with someone who was politely feigning their interest.

It's almost funnier when the company sits you all down in the same room for the calls like they do today because you get to witness and subsequently tease the boys for the aegyo and silly poses they're forced to do. It's not like any of you can refuse anything the fans ask you to do, not with the staff breathing down your neck the whole time.

As expected, most of your calls are fairly generic and you're grateful for it. You have easy conversations about the album, which dances are your favourite, and you get to share some stories from the tour that you recently finished. You're maybe halfway through the calls when things start to take a turn for the worst.

“I even think that you would have done great as a solo artist! Are you thinking of releasing any solo music soon?” the girl that you're talking to asks excitedly.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile back even though the innocent question makes your chest ache for some reason. “I- well, solo music-” You take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “I don't know about the future, but right now I really can't imagine releasing anything other than music as a part of Stray Kids. I love working and performing with the rest of the members and I wouldn't want to change anything.”

It's how you actually feel, but you can't help the way that your eyes dart over to check on the staff member that's supervising your call. You feel a bit better when you see their nod of approval and try to focus on the fan to finish the rest of the conversation.

Thankfully you get a quick break before the next call. You know the fan was probably trying to be encouraging, she had started off the call praising your skills and was probably just curious. Still, there's a voice in your mind that tells you that she'd prefer it if you weren't a member of Stray Kids. Or rather, she'd prefer that Stray Kids didn't have you in it.

You try to bring a positive mindset into your next call, but it's with a Stay that’s decidedly less interested in talking to you. You exchange greetings and make small talk until she seems to get an idea that makes her sit up straight all of a sudden.

“I have a question for you,” she says, eyes glinting in a way that makes you a little nervous, even though you're not sure why.

“Go ahead,” you encourage her because you're mostly feeling a bit relieved that she's finally showing some emotion other than boredom.

“Which of the boys would you say is best in bed?” she asks slyly.

You stare at her dumbly, thinking that you must have misheard her.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing uncomfortably. “I don't- I don't think I understand your question.”

“You heard me,” she scoffs. “What's the point in having you in the group if you're not sleeping with at least some, if not all of them?”

“No, I- It's not like that, I don't-” Flustered, you stare desperately at the staff, hoping they'll step in and end the call. Instead they just motion for you to continue. “I mean, we're close, but not-”

“If you want, you can just tell me your favourites,” she giggles, as if she's just asked you what songs on the album you liked. “It must be either Chan or Jeongin, if you decided to live with them.”

“No!” you exclaim.

“So it's not either of them?” she says, tapping a finger against her lip in thought.

“That's not the kind of relationship we have.”

Mortified, you find that you're tearing up a bit. You've heard the theories before, know that there's a lot of gossip and rumours because you're in a group of men, but you've never been outright accused to your face like this.

From the corner of your blurry field of vision, you see Seungmin wave bye to whoever he's talking to. He must hear the distress in your voice because he glances over, then does a double-take when he sees just how bad you're doing.

“What's going on?” he demands, stalking over. Before the staff can do anything to stop him, he leans forward and disconnects the call without a warning. “Why didn't you do anything, isn't it obvious that something’s wrong?”

“Y/n-ssi was handling it,” the staff member says. “It’s not fair to the fans if you cut a call short without reason.”

“No reason? Do you have eyes?!” Seungmin motions to where you're surreptitiously trying to blot away the tears without smudging your makeup. He's gotten the attention of everyone in the room now, even the members who are still in calls and have to pretend nothing is happening in the background. You can only hope that the phones aren't able to pick up anything being said.

“Min,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you tug on his sleeve lightly. He glances back at you, eyes softening slightly. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

You're grateful that he's stood up for you, but all the scrutiny is getting a bit overwhelming. You just want to move on and pretend nothing happened because the last thing that you want is for the company to think you're a liability who can't even handle a nosy fan.

Seungmin crouches in front of you and studies you carefully. You're still clutching onto the sleeve of his sweater. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, then give him a watery smile.

“I was just being really sensitive today, I promise,” you plead. “Just let it go.”

He starts to say something, then cuts himself off, eyes watching something happening over your shoulder.

“Let's just take a quick break from the calls,” Chan says evenly. You didn't even notice that he came up being you and is standing behind you protectively. “We'll be back in 10 minutes.”

It's a command, not a suggestion, something that the staff would normally push back against, but for some reason they stay quiet, allowing the nine of you to filter out of the room unimpeded.

Nobody says anything until you find an unoccupied dance studio. Minho is quick to lock the door after you all pile in.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly from where he's been stuck to your side. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah, I don't know what happened. I'm fine now,” you say.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks from where he's sitting on your other side.

“Really, it was nothing,” you assure him.

“If you were upset, then it's something,” Seungmin insists. “We promise we won't think it's silly or anything. It's probably something we've all heard before anyway.”

You have to turn away from the way that he's looking at you with his huge, pleading eyes. But the rest of the group is also gathered around, concern lining their faces.

“She implied that the only reason I'm in the group is because I'm sleeping with all you,” you say stiffly, regretting it immediately when you feel both Seungmin and Felix freeze in place. “Which obviously is not true, so it's not a big deal.”

“Y/n, you know that's unacceptable, right?” Chan says slowly, through what sounds like gritted teeth. You finally tear your eyes away from where you've been staring at the patterns that you can see in the grain of the wooden flooring, to see that his jaw is clenched, neck muscles pulled tight. 

“Fans say inappropriate things all the time, it's not like I haven't read things like that before. It comes with the job.” You shrug.

“That doesn't make it okay. This is serious. You shouldn't have to-” Chan cuts himself off when he notices that he's started to raise his voice and just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, I know. I just- I don't want this to be a big commotion. It sucks, I didn't respond well, whatever, let's move on,” you say. “She's going to post about it online, but in a few days, nobody is going to remember anyway.”

“Hyung, can't we just end the call if they do anything inappropriate?” Changbin complains.

“You know that we can't,” you remind him before anybody else can say anything. “It's part of our contract.”

“I hate these stupid fan calls!” Hyunjin passionately declares from where he's sprawled out on the floor. “Channie-hyung, can we just cancel the rest of them?”

“Don't say that,” you scold him mildly. “You love fan calls the most out of all of us.”

“I love some of them,” he argues back. “But not if that's the way you're going to be treated during them. Plus, if another person asks me to call them mommy then I'm actually going to quit being an idol.”

“Ew, your fans are weird.” Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“They're your fans too!” Hyunjin shoots back.

“Okay,” Chan claps his hands together a couple times before things devolve further. “Unfortunately, we do have to continue with the rest of the calls and we can't delay things too much. It's time to head back.”

There's a bit of casual chatter as everybody heads back, but you can tell everyone is still feeling a bit tense. Seungmin only releases your hand when he absolutely has to and you squeeze a couple times before you let go to try and reassure him that you're going to be fine.

The second you sit down, a makeup artist descends on you, tutting her tongue when she sees that you've accidentally wiped away some of your eyeshadow. You obediently stay still, watching as Chan approaches your table too, stopping to lean down and say something in the ear of the staff member that has been monitoring you. The blood slowly drains from her face and she nods rapidly in agreement with whatever he tells her. He claps a hand on her shoulder and even though it's a light and friendly gesture, you can see the way she flinches slightly.

You raise an eyebrow when he looks your way and he just smiles innocently in return and makes his way back to his seat. You don't comment, not even when you notice that the staff's fingers are trembling so hard that it takes her a couple tries to connect you to the next call. You know that it's not her fault, she's just following instructions from the company after all, but you're not feeling very sympathetic at the moment.

Instead, you just try to focus and take on an upbeat persona in the hopes that nobody realises how upset you truly feel. You're hurt and a bit wary of what the fans might do next, but you don't want to take it out on the people who haven’t done anything to you yet.

Fortunately, the rest of the calls are rather uneventful and you leave the company feeling drained, but not as terrible as you had expected.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about what you could have done differently, how you could have handled the call more gracefully, what kind of answer you should give if something similar ever happens again. But no matter what, you just get stuck pitifully thinking to yourself that it's not fair, you shouldn't have to deal with these kinds of questions in the first case. You're sure the company will give you a briefing and some scripted lines tomorrow anyway, so it's probably for the best that you just try to pretend nothing happened at all.

That evening, you try your best to avoid social media, but you knew that some of the other boys had seen videos based on the stormy expression on Jeongin's usually smiley face when you got home and the way that Chan comes back from the gym with more bruises than usual from his boxing session with Minho and Changbin.

They never say anything, but they have been extra careful around you. Chan has brought home your favourite takeout without you asking and Jeongin jumps up to clean up the second that everyone has finished eating. After you decline to watch a drama with them, you can hear one of them pacing past your bedroom every few minutes, pausing right outside your door before continuing on.

You have just decided to muster up the courage to actually watch the recording of the video, it was embarrassingly easy to find one, when Seungmin video calls you. You immediately click away from where your own stupid looking shocked face is paused on screen to answer because you know Seungmin knows that you prefer to text unless it's an emergency.

“Hey,” you greet him warily. “What's up?”

“Felix is trying to kill me,” Seungmin complains.

“What now?”

“Just look!”

Seungmin changes to his back camera to reveal their kitchen, which is littered with baking supplies and seems almost hazy for some reason.

“Is that smoke?” you ask, sitting up in bed.

“I said not to film!” Felix's voice comes from somewhere outside of the frame. Seungmin pans over dizzyingly fast to show where he's crouched in front of the oven, streaks of flour smudged on his clothes and in his hair.

“I'm not filming,” Seungmin comments, unbothered by the fact that Felix is pulling out a pan of what looks like they should be cookies but look alarmingly similar to lumps of coal. “I'm on a call. Show Y/nnie what you made,” he prompts.

“What?? Noooo,” Felix whines. “Y/n don't look!”

“What are those supposed to be?” you laugh.

“I wanted to make something to cheer you up,” Felix says miserably. Seungmin cackles, moving the camera closer so that you first get a close-up of Felix's face, then a better look at the burnt baking sheet. You keel over, stomach starting to hurt from how hard you're laughing. “I was trying to clean up while they baked and didn't hear the timer go off.”

“Well I appreciate the thought,” you say, when you can finally catch a breath. “And you definitely succeeded in making me feel better. Didn't the fire alarm go off?”

“We just got it to stop,” Seungmin says, switching the camera so that you can see his face again. “It's freezing in here now, we had to open all the windows to air out the place.”

“You poor things,” you coo, leaning back onto your bed now that you aren't concerned that they're in immediate danger. “Do you want to come over to our place?”

“I want to, but someone has to make sure that sunshine over here doesn't burn anything else.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, making you laugh again. You hear Felix yell something in the background. “I just wanted a witness in case I don't make it to our schedule tomorrow. I think I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I think you'll be busy cleaning up the rest of the night. See you tomorrow!”

You end the call, plunging your room back into darkness. You lie on your bed for a few moments before unlocking your phone again.

Even though you knew that it wasn't wise, like clockwork you found yourself scrolling through social media after every comeback. It used to be worse, when you had been living alone and would spend countless hours curled up on your tiny bed, face only illuminated by your phone. 

The rest of the members all know that you had private social media accounts, they all had them too even though you technically weren't allowed to. What they didn't know was how many nights you had wasted away, watching funny compilations, reaction videos, and analysis of performances. Sometimes, it even felt like you were subconsciously searching for the negative comments, wanting to understand better the mindset of the haters.

It was an old, but bad habit, so you had tried your best to stop once you moved in with Chan and Jeongin. But tonight you just couldn't sleep. After wandering into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you end up getting distracted by your Youtube recommendations.

You don't know what kind of strings the company pulled, but by some miracle, there's no clips of your disastrous fan call circulating any more, although there were still a lot of people talking about it.

There had been mixed comments. Some of the clips had excluded the terrible questions and people commented on how bad your media training must have been, but a majority of people were furious on your behalf and complained about how out of bounds the comment had been. 

You should be relieved that the videos have been taken down and you are to a certain extent, but just a couple days ago the dance practice that haunted you had been posted. Just one more thing to worry about. As you feared, while a majority of the comments were nice, there's already people picking apart your performance, comparing you to the boys. 

You click from one comment to another, then move onto fan made videos, inevitably falling down a rabbit hole of the many edits that exist where you had been cropped out or digitally removed. It was almost mesmerizing, watching videos of how well the group worked without you, how natural it looked to see what it would have looked like if it was just the eight of them. Some nights, you could almost forget that the edits were exactly that, edits and not the reality.

“Hey,” Chan interrupts. He is obviously trying his best not to scare you, but you were startled anyway, dropping your phone on the counter. “What are you up to so late?”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so that he can’t see the video that’s playing, but Chan had scooped it up before you had the chance to pick it back up.

“What's this-” You could see the moment that he pieced things together, the way that even in the dim lighting you could tell how his brow had furrowed and his hand had tightened around your phone. “How come you're not in these videos?”

“Hm?”

“You were definitely in this performance,” Chan says, studying the paused screen. “You're supposed to be… They removed you.” He finally realises with horror. “Why are you watching garbage like this?”

“I just want to know what Stay are thinking.” You shrug. “I saw this video and couldn't help but watch. It’s not a big deal, I was just curious.”

“They're not Stay if they're not supporting the whole group!” Chan startles you with the sharpness of his voice. He catches sight of your wide eyes and softens his tone. “Sorry, I just hate akgaes and seeing these kind of posts.”

“Oh come on,” you say. “You're telling me that you've never thought about what the group would be like if you weren't being dragged down by me?”

“Dragged down- Y/n-”

“Don't lie to me, oppa. I know you've seen what people are saying about the group, about me. Have you seen some of these edits? Stray Kids looks good as eight,” you admit.

“I’m not lying! None of us would want to be making music or performing without you,” Chan insists.

“You don't have to say that just to not make me feel bad.” You shake your head.

“We’ve been together from the start, why would I have chosen you to be a part of Stray Kids if I didn't actually want you to be on the team?” Chan asks, sounding frustrated, but also genuinely curious.

“Because the company added me to the team at the last minute?” you say, as if it's obvious. Because to you, and basically everybody else, it is. “I know I wasn't part of the group that you picked. It's okay-”

“What are you talking about? You know that I chose you too, right?” he asks slowly. 

“But the company-”

“They couldn’t have just added you to the group without our say.”

“No, I know that you guys agreed it to, but-”

“Y/n-ah, we didn't just agree to it. They told me they wanted us to consider adding a female member to Stray Kids. We thought about it and said yes. I was the one who wanted that member to be you.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Why are you so surprised? I saw your evaluations, you were one of trainees strongest in dance, probably the only one that could keep up with us, your singing has always been stable, and I know that based on your personality and work ethic, you would get along well with the rest of us. It was the obvious choice.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say, mind racing.

“You really thought the company just added your name onto the roster and we went along with it?”

“I don't know, I guess so?” you say sheepishly. “I was just so grateful to debut, it didn't matter at the time. It felt so out of the blue.”

“You know that one of the reasons that JYP didn't have you on that many of the girl group line-ups was because he was considering making you a solo artist, right?”

“Huh? There's no way,” you immediately deny. “Nobody ever mentioned that-”

“He told me when I brought up your name to add to the group. I guess they never wanted to get your hopes up.”

“I thought they were going to drop me soon,” you admit, scratching at the back of your neck. “I uh, I thought maybe I would do at most one more year of training and then move back in with my family. I had even started filling out university applications to keep my options open.”

“Y/n, you were consistently having amazing evaluations, you were being praised so much by everyone. Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Three years as a trainee and nothing to show for it. You know what it was like, how hard it was to see people come and go. It didn't matter how great my evaluations were if I never got to debut.”

“But-”

“Don't tell me that you never thought about quitting. Oppa, I thought that you of all people would understand what it was like.” You hate the way that your voice cracks.

“I thought about it all the time,” Chan says. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It's fine,” you mumble.

“Y/n-ah,” Chan asks tentatively, like he's afraid to learn the answer. “All these years that we've been together, did you really think we didn't want you?”

“Yes? Well, not really. I didn't think you guys disliked having me in the group per se, I just always thought that maybe you would like it more if I wasn't? And I guess it didn't help that there are a lot of people who thought the same way.”

“I'm sorry we didn't reassure you more.” Chan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “How did we not see that you felt this way?”

“Because I didn't want you to? It's not like it was your fault anyway, I was just overthinking.”

“You know we're going to have to make it up to you, right?” Chan says, looking a little mischievous. 

“Oh please no,” you say, backing away nervously thinking of how much coddling and smothering you're about to endure. You're pretty sure you're already one of the members that's doted on the most. “Things are good as they are.”

“Nope, I refuse.” Chan approaches you, reaching out and catching your wrist so that you can't get away. “We're going to give you so much love that you're not going to doubt yourself ever again.”

“No!” you squeal, trying to tug away from his grip. “I already-” 

The rest of your sentence gets cut off as Chan pulls you into an embrace and your face gets smashed against his shoulder. He squeezes you tightly and contrary to your words, you just relax into his hold.

“What are you guys doing? You're being so loud.”

Both you and Chan freeze, then turn to stare as Jeongin shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his hair all mussed up. You turn back to Chan for a second before he replies.

“Just having a bit of a heart to heart, Innie. Come here, join us,” he invites.

“Ugh, why would I want to hug either of you?” Jeongin complains, wrinkling his nose before immediately walking over and enveloping both of you in his arms.

Even though you know you're going to have to leave for a schedule in a matter of hours, with both Chan and Jeongin's arms wrapped tight around you, you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel secure, at ease, and finally, like you've found a home in these boys.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. no protection. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

next.

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant y/n and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

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[creatingblackcharacters]

“On Human Dignity.”  Blackness, Gender & Sexuality

Two things:

As usual, there’s historical and social context that I need explain! This lesson is not what sexuality is, or ‘how to write being gay while Black’. That’s… not that different from you. What this lesson is, is context on how Blackness plays a role in our presentation and understanding of gender and sexuality (as well as your perception of it), and how that’s something you should consider in your characterization, writing, and character design.

I DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING! The reason this took so long was because I read multiple books and wallowed in my remaining lack of understanding. I cannot join The Tumblr Discourse so do not ask. I tried to be as inclusive as I could, but I learn something new on this app every day, so if I miss something- and I’m bound to- I apologize in advance. Please have grace with me.

TW: Sexual assault mention, homophobia, misogynoir, cannibalism, misgendering

“That’s that White People Shit"

I’m putting the hardest part first; walk with me, you’ll be fine!

I will be honest: this section here, while I do think you should know, I don’t really expect nonblack people to incorporate it in depth. Not because it cannot be done, but because it is a sensitive topic that we ourselves are still struggling with. If you have struggled with anything else while writing Black characters up to this point, this one certainly isn’t for you to touch. Just keep in mind!

There’s an idea I’ve heard before on both sides that Black people are more likely to be homophobic, that queerness itself is white. That is a ridiculous belief, but the root of it ends up right back where you think it would: slavery! I’m sure that you saw me post while I was reading The Delectable Negro by gay Black author Vincent Woodard. I shared those increasingly uncomfortable quotes on purpose! If you have a desire to understand Black culture and Black thought, that means being willing to acknowledge Black pain. How can you avoid stereotypes if you avoid learning their source?  

While I will be using quotes from the entire book, the specific chapter of “Eating Nat Turner” is a succinct explanation of why admitting to the presence of homosexuality, gender fluidity, and queer identity within the Black community is so difficult for my people. While I highly, HIGHLY recommend reading this chapter yourself, it essentially comes down to how admitting to such a potential vulnerability in the armor of Blackness, in gender identity and particularly Black masculinity, would allow white supremacy to destroy us as a people, to do validate doing even more cruel things to us when in a position of power over us. It’s a defensive reaction based in trauma that disregards and discards the queer members of our own community as a threat, a liability when it comes to fighting against the ubiquitous presence of white supremacy.

“Intuitively, Black gay men understood the issue of homosexuality during slavery as a complex phenomenon shaped by a number of factors, including the nation’s unresolved relationship to the legacy of slavery, Black liberatory ideology dating back to slavery, and, most importantly, the maintenance of traditional notions of family and community that originated in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The legacy and memory of slavery had a powerful effect that left many Black gay men feeling isolated from and rendered invisible within Black communities.

Joseph Beam said it first and best: “I cannot go home as who I am. . . . When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew, but the entire Black community: the Black press, the Black church, Black academicians, the Black literati, and the Black left… I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family, or am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous.” … As Philip Brian Harper has noted, the Black homosexual functioned in the twentieth century as an index for Black masculine anxieties. These ranged from the very personal and painful anxieties of lynching, castration, and the denial of civil rights to a larger set of anxieties rooted in historical erasure and cultural genocide.”

“Sex and gender they also conflated with homosexuality, made out to equal effeminacy. Many Blacks linked homosexuality to castration and the recent history of Black men who had been lynched and Black women who had been raped in the Jim Crow South and in the North. Homosexuality, in its metaphoric power, had an exhaustive function: It is equated with the absence of family, hatred of Black people, estrangement from one’s kin and culture, and all of those horrific aspects of Black experience about which Black people would rather not speak.”

An example of why nonblack people should consider the depth of such a topic- and their place to do so- before incorporating it into their story comes in the form of Styron’s Confessions of Nat Turner, and the backlash he faced from the Black community for such a sensationalized story from a white author.

“The ten Black male contributors [who wrote Ten Black Writers Respond] coupled cannibalism (overtly and covertly) with homoeroticism and effeminacy. For these Black men, homoeroticism became a way of circumventing and projecting their experiences and pain onto certain “effeminate” Black men: the consumed Black man these Black men equated with the homosexual man. Homosexuality served as a means of containing certain unwieldy and historically difficult topics pertaining to Black masculinity, such as the need for intimacy, gender variance, sexual and emotional vulnerability, and violation. It was as if, in this very powerful and discursive moment, threads that had been all along winding through history wove together in a manner that illuminated the past as much as they clouded and blocked full access to its complicated meaning.”

“On the surface, at least, I do not disagree with these Black men and women. I think their analysis regarding historicity and the diminishment of Black communal ties was mostly correct. Styron’s novel was historically inaccurate, depicting Turner as raised by whites rather than the Black parents and grandmother Turner spoke about in his original “Confessions.” Styron depicts aspects of Turner’s sexual life that are not validated in any documentation coming from the time period, and Styron’s exhaustive probing into the racial hatred and self-hatred of Turner clearly reflected something in his own psyche and white identity that he felt compelled to project onto Turner. Black men were put on the defensive by both the novel and by the institutions (literary production, the media) and individuals who supported Styron as an authentic interpreter of Black historical experience. Many Black men, like Bennett, felt that Styron was waging a literary war that paralleled the contemporary political and police state war against Black men…”

The problem with this mindset and approach within the community is that, while it attempts to protect our community, it silences both the prosperity and the pain of an entire section of it, as well as shutting down important conversation that needs to be had even by nonqueer members. And it’s doing it all to fight against a force- white supremacy- that is going to commit violence against us regardless! Respectability politics forces many Black people to stay silent, to not speak up on things that may rock the boat- but the boat needs to be rocked! Blaming fellow victims of racism is not going to save us!

“That was the irony of this moment. Black people invoked the cannibal discourse that could have freed up and complicated Black male perspectives on everything from social consumption to homoeroticism only to defend Black masculinity and Black culture. Black men were not interested in, nor capable of dealing with, the complex legacy of cannibalism and homoeroticism that so powerfully shaped their responses to Styron’s novel.”

But that does NOT mean that it’s a nonblack person’s place to make that argument! While I cannot stop you, I do want you to keep in mind that- as always with sensitive topics- you may have to face Black people who may rightfully be offended by your depiction if not done with care. Styron studied James Baldwin himself- who faced backlash on his end for saying that it was time for the Black community to face such a conversation- and even then, he still projected his white pathology and opinions onto the story of such a prolific hero in our history. Tread lightly!

“Well they don’t seem gay to me.”- A Eurocentric Standard of Passing

How many times have you heard this about a Black character? And if you’re Black and LGBTQ, how often have you heard it about people (or maybe even yourself?) How do we ‘not seem gay’? What is gay supposed to be? There’s this denial, almost, of Black LGBTQ folks, based in a complete disconnect of understanding of our own forms of gender expression and sexuality.

It’s extremely bizarre, because so much of pop gay culture as we know it is from Black LGBTQs (please refer to my infamous AAVE lesson), but… when we imagine an LGBTQ person, they're white.

If you’re Black and queer, you have to be this stereotypical, flamboyant RuPaul-esque figure. Can’t be regular degular. If you’re gay, you gotta be Uber Gay™. If you’re trans, you better pass with Complete Gender and Pizzazz. If you’re nonbinary, you’re not ‘androgynous’ enough. If you’re intersex or asexual, you’re practically not real. If you don’t fill this (white, western) mold, you must not be right. When all you have to be in order to be gay… Is be gay.

I shouldn’t have to put on extra performance to qualify as queer in your eyes! Do you know what looks are considered “androgynous” in my community? What behaviors are deemed “masculine” versus “feminine”? Do you know anything about my queer culture, or are you subconsciously comparing it to your own?

I want you to recognize that whatever image of queerness you have in your mind for your favorite or original characters, if Black people of all shapes and sizes aren’t included, there’s a problem! Because what are you seeing in others, that you’re not seeing in us? Is that, perhaps, a you problem? And why are we not worth the added effort of queer layering that others are?

THAT SAID!

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’m gay-”

This one mostly- if not always- comes from white queer folk. I’ve linked The Last Interview with James Baldwin. It’s so short. PLEASE take the time to read it. I’ve always adored how James Baldwin expresses himself, and while I could never stand so close, I have studied how he conveys his thoughts. But there’s almost nothing I could say that he doesn’t say better.

“A Black gay person who is a sexual conundrum to society is already, long before the question of sexuality comes into it, menaced and marked because he’s Black or she’s Black. The sexual question comes after the question of color; it’s simply one more aspect of the danger in which all Black people live. I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society.”

The idea that “I know what it’s like to experience this oppression as a Black person because I’m gay” is not true. It’s like saying “oh look at my tan, I’m as Black as you now”. Stop it. Think back to that first section on history we discussed- no, you and I are not the same. We can discuss our existing connections, our intersection and have sympathy and empathy with one another on human dignity. We don’t have to act like we’re the same to do that! So don’t go headstrong into your writing (or life) saying “oh I get that completely, it’s because I’m queer”. There are more tactful ways to express your intent of solidarity.

'Queer' vs 'The N Word'

We’re gonna nip this one in the bud, because we’re leaving that argument in 2024. You know the one- “saying queer is like using the N-word- as a reclamation/slur!” What this argument reveals, used by EITHER SIDE, is how y’all don’t actually have community with Black people.

It implies that either “we don’t like it” or “we do”. Yet another binary that does not exist! There are plenty of Black people that despise that word, regardless of context. That think it brings us down. And then there are those that use it as a reclamation of an identity that was used to demean and dehumanize. Either way, one party is not going to walk up to a stranger and force it on them- that would cause an actual fight! It’s not improving your argument. As a whole, I would say stop using Black politics in general to improve your arguments when you are unaware of the overlap, or maybe the lack thereof, between Blackness and queerness in your argument. It shows. I’m not your tool; I’m not your Negro!

I’m not here to tell anyone whether queer is a slur or not. I don’t use it as one, but I recognize when people are uncomfortable, when it is being used as one, and I will use different language when I am speaking directly to someone who says “I do not like that word, describe me as __”. I am just here to say that we’re leaving that argument behind.

Black =/= Gender

Blackness and the concept of Gender have a fraught, confusing history. Not human enough to have rights, but human just enough to fail to meet Eurocentric standards of gender.

One example of this is the term “stud”. Studs are an example of Black women traversing gender presentation, the origin of which is because Black people are perceived as having “lesser sexual dimorphism”- i.e. you can’t tell who’s a woman or not. It’s an in-community joke that doesn’t make sense spoken outside of its historical context (thus, no, your white butch is NOT a stud within this context).

Another example: Megan Thee Stallion is one of the most stunning, feminine women I have ever seen… And her entire career, people have called her a man. Because she’s brown-skinned, Black, confident, loud, and openly sexual, she’s deemed manly. I can’t stand it. Plus her height- and mind you, Taylor Swift, of the same height and probably a higher number of bodies over the years, has never once been called a man or lost any of her “feminine” charm despite it. Why is that? If one of her men had shot in the foot, trying to kill her, there would be an uproar. Why is that?

There is an internal contradiction that being a Black woman is being inherently “gender nonconforming”. The first reason is that I will never be allowed to truly be a “woman” because to be a woman is to be white while doing it. White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad is an excellent book on this dynamic in all women of color, and Black activists like Angela Davis and Kimberle Crenshaw have written and discussed the topic as well.

The second reason is I have to play the role of whatever ‘gender’ is expected to get me through this life. I have to be more ‘masculine’; strong, assertive, and proactive, a hard worker willing to sacrifice it all every day, in order to protect my family and myself in a world where a lack of resilience might kill me. I cannot allow weakness to stop me from taking care of my community, because Black women are supposed to show up and save the day. Find a Black woman! they say. She’ll fix it! And odds are, I do know how to fix it because I’ve probably had to address it before.

But then I’m acting ‘out of a woman’s place’ by being so ‘hard’ and expecting people to listen to my authority. So in order to play a Black woman’s place, I have to balance that with… Somehow not intimidating people by being more ‘feminine’, submissive, vulnerable, sweet and motherly (because if I’m not a good breeder and mother, I am a bad woman). I scare people if I don’t. If I don’t do that, then I’m not a good Black woman. But if I don’t harden myself and be strong and assertive to protect everyone, and tough through everyone’s problems with infinite sacrifice, then I’m not a good Black woman… You see how the cycle gets confusing! (The Delectable Negro and Black on Both Sides also speak on this, and how this is rooted in the creation of the Mammy!)

I spoke about it earlier, but that same inability to be defined as a human, defined as white, haunts many Black men in their goals to be seen as ‘equal’ to white men and receive equal treatment. By seeking to fit a standard of whiteness, they are never going to attain it (and often, that comes back home in not-so-good way)! E.g.: this is the original issue that Louis had in AMCs' IWTV- Louis never actually wanted to be a vampire, Louis wanted to be treated like an equivalent human- and that was unattainable to him not because he wasn’t a human being, but because he wasn’t a white one!

The Racist Counterproductivity of TERFs

Sigh. If you are of this belief, but here to better your writing, I feel like I should say this to you. I want you to listen to me. (TBH, I’m going to delete anything asking me for opinions on this because I don’t want to potentially entertain even a singular troll). Besides, my argument is pretty simple and resolute.

The gender binary is rooted in bioessentialism, and bioessentialism is rooted in white supremacy. You know what else benefits from white supremacy? The white patriarchy.

How are we gonna escape from the patriarchy and white supremacy… if the ideology you believe in… is rooted in white supremacy and patriarchy?

And it’s not just the TERFs- look within yourselves as well! How are we going to make the world safer for trans people, including white ones, if you aren’t willing to confront your own racist biases? If you are unwilling to release the shackles of gender essentialism and the benefits of whiteness, none of us are getting out of here. You are reinforcing the very walls you wish to dismantle!

To offer another side of the conversation, Black On Both Sides by C Riley Snorton has been an interesting read! Essentially, the conversation is on how Blackness and transness intersect, how being Black in and of itself can be and is a transitional, gender fluid experience. It, along with The Mismeasure of Man by Stephen Jay Gould and Medical Apartheid by Harriet A Washington, goes into the history of how the Black body was seen as a different species altogether, and how phrenology, biological essentialism, and examples of sexual dimorphism were treated as an example on how we are an inferior group. Yet, this lack of understanding of our bodies (despite the constant access to it) allowed for us to maneuver within such a system.

An example, of how Blackness has an effect on our perception of gender:

"Cobb suggests that this blackening may have been an anticipatory gesture; when James Norcom (Jacobs’s enslaver) published a description of her in the 1835 issue of the American Beacon, he presumed that she would be “seeking whiteness and dressing as a free woman, not accentuating her Blackness” and finding a “cross-dressing” and ungendered mode for escape. Although the description of sartorial arrangements seems to conform to passing’s logic of movement for protection or privilege, Jacobs’s use of charcoal to darken her complexion tropes—by inverse logic—on more commonly held beliefs (and fears) about racial passing.

As “passing” became a term to describe performing something one is not, it trafficked a way of thinking about identity not only in terms of real versus artificial but also, and perhaps always, as proximal and performative. Like a vertical line with arrows on either end, passing is figuratively represented by moving up or down hierarchized identificatory formations. This articulation of vertical identity also coordinates with forms of binary thinking, typified, for example, by the language of “the opposite” sex. …Brent/Jacobs’s blackened blackness gives expression to her condition as fungible within the logic of U.S. slavery, in which the system of colorism, as Nicole Fleetwood has argued, “produces a performing subject whose function is to enact difference . . . an act that is fundamentally about assigning value.”

As it relates to the scene of Jacobs’s brushing past Sands, her status as “it” also indicates how blackness-as-fungible engenders forms of nonrecognition, as Jacobs’s performance elucidates how blackness and going blacker become an embrace of the conditions that might allow one to pass one’s friends and lovers undetected. In this encounter, fungibility sets the stage for gendered maneuvers on a terrain constituted by modes of viewing blackness, in which Jacobs’s blackness and going blacker color her gender as well as her face."

The Black Trans/Nonbinary/Genderqueer Experience

Rather than try to summarize opinions on something I had not lived, I wanted to platform some Black trans, intersex, and genderqueer opinions for you all to consider! I asked three questions, and I’ve typed out the responses and placed them as their own post for the sake of space. I don’t care if it’s long- read them! You want to write these characters; you should hear the perspectives of the people you wish to write about!

The Black Intersex Experience

Nothing I could say that someone that is actually Black and intersex couldn’t say better!

Here is a page on Tumblr that compiles resources on the intersex community and its history that I found; while it’s not Black-specific, I have seen the page post topics related to.

The Black Aspec Experience

An interesting thing about identifying as asexual or aromantic while Black is that from all angles, people will simply not believe you because Blackness itself has been sexualized. I talked about this in my lessons on stereotypes, but one of the ways that the sexual assault and violation of Black bodies was dismissed, was to emphasize that not only were we incapable of being r*ped, but that we were naturally inclined to being hypersexual beings and that if we weren’t controlled, we would bring it onto ourselves. Black women were jezebels; Black men were mandigos, vicious savages that would assault pure white women if not chained like beasts.

Here is a page for Black people (!!!) with these identities to gather. Again, BLACK PEOPLE with these identities. Here's another!

The Bit You Actually Showed Up For

So! Given all that historical and social context: really, it’s just about application! You have to ask yourself certain things to catch when you’re about to dip into a bias or stereotype while you’re writing.

Black Queer Joy- A Conclusion

I know I’ve shared a lot of history here, and it’s not been the happiest stuff. THAT BEING SAID!

I must personally say- I am honored to be Black and bisexual. There’s nothing else I’d rather be. I am so happy to be who I am. It’s hard as hell living at the intersection, but the intersection is lit! There’s so much love, history, culture, creation, and so much power here; I’m standing on the shoulders of cultural GIANTS and my chest is full, my chin is high with pride. I love it here!

Being Black and queer itself is not a miserable experience! Your characters should feel joy, because we feel joy! There’s so much that we have to offer the world, it’s practically blossoming from us. I don’t want anyone to walk away from this going “let me go pity the next one I see and tell them how hard their life is”. We don’t need you to feel sorry, we need you to have solidarity! Either show up and do the work, or leave us alone. You can’t join the party at the intersection and then flee when it’s time to fight for it!

Listen to Black queer people in your spaces- dear god, it never fails how conversations of queerness and gender and feminism will leave Blackness completely out, and then be shocked when none of us want to show up. Like I said before- you will never dismantle the walls barring you from your own freedom until you address ours.

Support Black queer creatives, content, perspectives, and people- when you tag on that “support Black trans women” bit at the end of your posts, don’t just speak lightly- understand what that means, and stand on it! Because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘" 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & bokuto x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: hello ahhh it's been awhile since i've posted but i'm trying to get back into the habit of writing again! someone in my inbox had requested me to add bokuto to this list so i tried my best but i hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to stop by my inbox to leave a comment, tell me your thoughts, or just lmk how it's going hehe :,)

kuroo tetsuro

"i'm home," a mumble echoed out into the empty living room.

at the sound of the door opening, you make your way out of your shared bedroom to greet your overworked boyfriend, kuroo.

"hi baby," you replied with a tired smile on your features.

the door closes and kuroo slides off his slacks, loosens his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs in exhaustion.

"hey."

"have you eaten dinner yet?" you start to ramble. " i can warm up dinner and we could maybe share a meal together?"

"we haven't spent much time together in a while so you know.. i was just thinking... we could do something small together?"

you continue to ramble about how you spent all evening trying a new recipe you saw on tiktok that really fascinated you.

but kuroo is not having it.

all he wants to do is just go to bed and forget the past couple shitty days he's had at work. today, especially, was stressful considering how nothing had gone his way and the higher ups just wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time.

he kept his frustration, tiredness, anger all bottled up for the past couple days and they were all about to boil out.

on top of that, your constant rambling isn't helping. you keep talking and talking and talking and his mind is beginning to get cloudy and his anger is about to boil over.

his voice rises and he finally speaks, "god y/n.. can you just shut the fuck up and stop being all up in my space? you're so fucking clingy just leave me alone."

oh.

you mouth shuts up mid sentence and you're looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye after hearing his true feelings.

"sorry, i just wanted to spend some time and talk and relax with you..." your voice goes quiet. "you've been out really late for the past couple days so i was just hoping-"

however, kuroo's outburst isn't over yet. if anything, your little comment voicing your concerns seems to have make him a bit more upset.

"yeah, i've been out late because of how suffocating it is here at home with you. god, it's like you just can't take a fucking hint! just leave me the fuck alone!" he says and your eyes go a bit glassy.

"r-right," you say as you're turning around so he doesn't see the tears forming in your eyes. "sorry, i'll respect your wishes and give you your space."

seeing your hunched figure walking away brought him back to his senses.

what the fuck did i just say to them? oh my god.

"y/n wait i'm sorry-" he begins but is cut off.

"kuroo, i think you've said enough tonight."

the sound of his last name coming out of your mouth leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he knows he's fucked up immensely. the door to the bedroom closes, indicating that you're clocking out for the night and you can't deal with this conversation any bit longer.

kuroo sits himself on the couch with his head in his hands, shaking his head.

what the hell did i just say to them? it's not even their fault... i just... how the hell do i make it up to them?

kuroo walks to the door and places three subtle knocks on the door, begging for permission to enter. he's greeted with no acknowledgement or response.

he turns the knob and to his surprise it opens. there, he sees you fast alseep in your comforter in a fetal-like position. he goes into the closet, changes into his pajamas, and immediately climbs into bed.

he brings you close to his side of the bed, specifically putting your head on his chest. he begins to stroke your hair and places gentle kisses on your head, mumbling soft "i'm sorry's" and "i love you's."

he's praying to whatever deity out there that this would blow over by tomorrow morning or something.

but kuroo wakes up the next morning to his worst nightmare: you're not in bed with him. he feels his blood run cold and he's running the worst case scenarios in his head.

he rushes out of the bedroom to see that you're nowhere in the apartment. he sees a bright colored post-it note stuck on to the fridge with a note scribbled in your handwriting.

"i'm staying at a friend's house for the next couple of days. i just need time to think for a bit. there's some leftovers from last night in the fridge so make sure you eat those.

love u always, y/n"

kuroo's hands shake as he's holding your post-it note.

of course, they'd leave. i treated them like shit and hurt them so badly of course they want to leave. but even after everything, they still love me… i don’t deserve them.

kuroo begins to spiral and the next couple of days aren't any easy for him.

every attempt at texting or calling you has lead to no response. he goes to sleep without you next to him, holding back tears every time. every morning without fail, he pats the vacancy next to him in hopes that you'll be there but to his demise, every time, you're not. work feels even more lethargic than usual. before, he used to look forward to coming home to you but now you're not even at home so what's the point in even trying. counting down the hours until he gets to leave his cubicle has become futile.

i just really want them back. please come back home.

but when he comes home from a pain achingly long day of work, he doesn't find you and his mood plummets even more.

that is until one day, kuroo is able to leave work early where he comes home and hears the familiar noise of the coffee maker brewing. his eyes shoot up from his slacks to look over at the kitchen where he sees you in all your beauty, fidgeting with the knobs on the coffee machine. your eyes both lock and you immediately look away.

kuroo thought you were gone for good. and the fact that you were only a couple feet away from him made his heart swell and his eyes water. there's so much to say but his not a single word is escaping his mouth.

"you want some coffee? i just started a new batch," you finally say to fill up the silence of the room.

he gulps, "sure yeah."

you grab a coffee cup and pour him a fresh cup of coffee and slide it to him across the kitchen counter, avoiding getting too close to him.

too nervous to even touch his drink, he begins to address the elephant in the room, "y/n, i'm so sorry for what i said that night. i had no right to speak to you in the manner."

"it's okay," you say in a curt manner. "i get it."

he shakes his head and tries to get closer to you to convey his feelings but is stopped when he sees you take a step back. his heart cracks.

"no it's not okay sweetheart. i've been so busy with work and i just got super overwhelmed with everything and-"

"kuroo, you know you don't have to make any excuses right?" you interrupt his train of thought.

he's confused now. "excuses? y/n what are you even talking about- "

"just end it with me already... i know you want to," you say, looking down at the fresh cup of coffee in your hands. "you made that very clear."

his world freezes.

the world becomes completely silent.

his mouth is slightly open, caught off guard. he doesn't know what to say.

however, you interpret his silence as him putting down the excuses finally and admitting that he doesn't want to put effort into this relationship with you anymore.

hell, he doesn’t even want this relationship with you anymore.

"right, if you won't i will so it's easier for the both of us. i think we should-"

"don't you dare finish that fucking sentence," he moves close to you all of a sudden and his familiar lingering cheap cologne smell takes up your senses. the gears begin to click in his head before you can respond to him.

kuroo's arms envelop you in his embrace. "i want you. only you. i'm sorry i made you think otherwise."

the tears you've been holding back for the past couple minutes standing in front of him overflow and you feel like the world is about to end.

you push kuroo off you slightly. "i know you've been busy with work and i just wanted to spend some time with you. i never meant to come off as clingy but clearly you thought so so-"

"i'm just a complete douche,” he interrupts. “you were trying to help me out and make me feel better and i was so caught up with work, i couldn't appreciate that."

"i never want to ever make you feel that way again. you never deserved to hear any of that from me and everything i said couldn't be far from the truth. your presence has never been a bother and if anything, coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

“i shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me and i'm so sorry that it did and that i hurt you in the process. i hate that i’m the reason behind your tears and i’ll do everything to make it up to you to show you how much i love you."

the tears from your eyes continue to flow and he delicately wipes every single one from your eyes kissing your cheek every time without fail.

"are you sure you don’t find me suffocating? you said that you hated being home with me though so i just thought-" you start to say.

"i will spend my entire life reassuring you that it isn’t true. i promise you are never suffocating me and your presence never fails to make me feel better on a shitty day. i will do anything to regain your trust and faith in me,” he adamantly speaks with his hands in yours.

hearing his determined resolve, the tears flow even more.

"i love you so much, tetsu."

"i love you too baby," he smiles and delicately kisses your lips. "now let's go out. how do you feel about going out for dinner? i’ve got a lot of making up to you to do."

"i'll never say no to that."

bokuto koutaro

the msby jackals lost 2-0 sets and the entire team was taking the loss hard but no one as hard as bokuto.

"bokuto-san, what do you think went wrong today's game?" an interviewer asks with his notepad out, scribbling notes.

"er, uh, well, today was just a rough day and i had a tough time keeping up with the opponent's plays today... it just was not a good day."

"i have one more question," the interviewer asks.

"go ahead," he gruffs out.

"you are known for your infamous line shots especially during deciding moments of the game. you missed multiple of these shots during today's game. were you distracted during this game? is it because of your new relationship status or were-"

bokuto is now riled up. who the hell does this interviewer think he is to corner me and bring in my personal life???

"i'm leaving, fuck this shit," he spits out, trying his best to maintain his composure.

in frustration, bokuto storms out of the press conference room, slamming the double doors, heading towards the locker room to grab his stuff but is stopped by you, running after him.

"kou! wait up!" you say from a distance and he stops in his tracks to look at you. he's still internally raging from the provocative behavior of that interviewer and he feels like he just might lose it.

"what do you want," he says in an aggressive manner that catches you off guard.

you’re aware of the recent loss of the msby jackals. you know that's probably taking a toll on his confidence as a player so you're trying to be as supportive as you can.

"you wanna come back to my place? i was thinking we could watch that one disney movie you like and we could bake something together too? what do you think?"

"why do you always want to fucking hang out?" he says in the lowest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

it sends shivers down your spine.

"huh?" you're just confused at this point.

"why are you so fucking clingy all the time? it's always 'kou come over!' or 'kou let's watch a movie!' or 'kou let's take a nap together!' like don't you fucking get that i have a genuine career that i'm working really hard to be successful in?"

so that's what he thinks of me.

"i know you want to be a pro volleyball player and i want to support you the entire way. i was just trying to be there for you and help you relax..." you trail. "i get today was really rough for you.."

"that's the thing you don't get it, y/n!" he says exasperatedly. "if you did want to be supportive for me and my career, then you would stop being so all up on me and give my space!"

he walks into the locker room, slamming the door, shaking you up.

in defeat, you begin to leave the stadium with tears brimming your eyes. as you get in your car, you put your head on the steering wheel and suddenly, the tears start to stream out.

"i'll give him his space. i'll just stop everything. i'm nothing of importance to him or his life so it's best if i just stop." you convince yourself.

bokuto, on the other hand, is in the locker room, holding back tears of frustration as he punched one of the lockers.

fuck, what am i even doing right now...

"bokuto-san! let's head out for the night," shoyo's voice can be heard before he can be seen in the locker room. "we're gonna go get drinks and dinner at that new barbecue place that opened up."

he looks up from the bench and smiles at shoyo along with the rest of his teammates that are nodding along in support.

"yeah, sure. fine with me," kou responds with a small smile on his face.

as bokuto and the rest of the jackals are out and about, he keeps looking at his phone in hopes of getting a message or something from you but you're completely radio silent after the spat between the two of you.

he knows you both had a disagreement but he thought you knew that he was just frustrated and upset with the game. he didn't think it was a reason to just go silent on him.

he sends a text to test the waters.

kou <3: babe, we're good right?

he puts his phone down and engages back in the dinner with the rest of the jackals.

an hour has passed yet still no response. it's starting to make him fidgety so he decides to spam you.

kou <3: hello?

kou <3: baby wya???

kou <3: where is the loml at :((

kou <3: BABYYYYYYY

kou <3: POOKIE PLS TXT ME BACK :(((

y/n is typing...

y/n: sry i was getting ready for bed.

you sounded distant. you clearly were upset but was it still about the argument? c'mon you knew he didn't mean what he said... right?

kou <3: ITS OKAY BABY! can i come over? i wanna spend the night with u :,)

kou <3: i miss you

y/n: maybe not tonight... i think it's best if we're by ourselves for a bit

bokuto's hair significantly drooped down, seeing as how he got rejected to hang out with you for the night.

as bokuto heads over to his apartment for the night, he stares at the bedroom ceiling with his thoughts. he misses laying next to his baby. that's when he starts to replay everything that went down between the two of you.

he genuinely can't figure out what went wrong.

he prays that this whole thing will just blow over by tomorrow because he misses you incredibly and just wants to spend time with you.

unfortunately to his demise, you kept shutting down all of kou's efforts to come over. you refused to pick up his calls, resorting to half assed texts.

this whole argument was festering and bokuto had to fix it immediately.

you, however, want nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend but his words kept running through your mind on loop. anytime you would be sitting alone with yourself, his words kept playing themselves on loop in your brain, making you overthink the post couple months you’ve spent together.

has he always thought of me as clingy? have i always been a bother to him? have i always been super annoying in his eyes?

that was until you heard a knock on the door.

you open the door and see kou standing there in a hoodie and a pair of khakis with a large bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands. his eyes lock with yours while yours widen in surprise.

"k-kou! what are you doing here?" you say in surprise.

"what, i can't see my partnet now?" he retorts lightheartedly. "let me in."

too stunned to even reject him, your hand inherently finds its way to the knob, widening the door so bokuto can fit through into your apartment.

he tries to hand you the flowers but you stand there, hands refusing to move from their sides. "c'mon babe, i got them for you! do you not like them? man, i knew i should've gotten the roses instead."

"no no! thank you so much kou.. i'm just surprised that you even got this for me..." you trail off looking away from him.

he sets the flowers on the kitchen counter and tilts his head in confusion. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"listen, i know you don't really like spending time with me and that you feel obligated to but honestly, we really don't have to hang out or anything like that," you begin to say. "i know i can be a lot sometimes and i'm really working on trying to give you space."

that's when it all clicks in his head for him.

"baby, is this about what i said that day in the gym?" he questions.

you turn away, refusing to even look him in the eye because you know the moment your eyes lock with his, the tears will start streaming down your face.

"baby, no, please," he goes over to you to give you the warmest yet tightest hug possible. "i’m also a very clingy person so i should've known how much my words must have hurt you. i've been so stupid to not see how badly my words must have impacted you, my love. i'm so so sorry for saying and acting the way i did. it's unexcusable."

"no kou it's fine i just-" you say but are interrupted midsentence.

"no, y/n it's not," he says, tears brimming his eyes ever since coming to terms with how hurt you must've been feeling this entire time. "i'll do anything to get your forgiveness and for us to just... be close again. i'll do anything, i mean it."

tears are streaming down both your faces and you can't help but form a wobbly smile on your lips. "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," kou says as he locks pinkies with you and kisses the top of your head. "now let's cuddle because i've missed being near the love of my life."

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