#so much is changing its terrifying i hate it here

[kittymizuki]

thinking about the kamikou festival event again and how it conveys the tone and atmosphere of the school while showing the constant transmisogyny microaggressions mizuki lives with every day so well, and this phone call with an drives me insane bc even though an is genuinely well-meaning and is trying to ensure that mizuki knows that today is a safe day for her to come to school due to the circumstances of the festival, the way she words this is very discomforting bc she's basically saying "nobody is going to notice that you're dressed as a girl today bc everyone is wearing wacky outfits!" which carries the unfortunate implication that the way mizuki presents herself is equally wacky in a way that reinforces everything ppl say about her, but this isn't easy for her to push back against bc she doesn't have a good enough 'excuse' to do so when this is one of the few ppl who go out of their way to accommodate her even if they don't fully get it? it's thoughtful of an to want to reassure her but also it's another little thing that others fail to understand. she's trying to be kind but even then mizuki feels somewhat pushed into a corner. she's very bad at actively saying No. and an has removed her ability to misdirect here bc an is speaking with ambiguity.

mizuki also being too anxious about the idea of changing her clothes in school bc she's terrified of the possibility of being caught and thus having her body perceived by others... that's also another reason she'd hate being at school. gym and changing for it … i'd wager mizuki skips almost every gym class bc she can't stand the idea of being forced to change amidst boys, but she's also not allowed into the girls' locker room… literally only has the option to go to the roof if she wants to change. she's so hyper cognizant of her body and being seen … and the worst part is, she likes to be seen under her own circumstances and control (which is one of the many reasons she's very passionate abt fashion, and a lot of trans ppl in fiction tend to have an attachment to fashion and styling which makes a lot of sense bc of the element of control over one's appearance and making a self one can love). she really does. it just … happens that she knows she has so little control.

i've read the vbs main story (and a bit of their events but i need to continue whoops) and this makes me appreciate mizuki's brief interaction with kohane and an here more, bc it's obvious in this moment that kohane is just being her usual self—anxious around other ppl she's not familiar with and this is something she wants to improve upon (which as far as i can tell is the conceit of her character arc as an underdog of sorts compared to the others in her group). but mizuki assumes that she has to be uncomfortable with her specifically (presumably due to her transness) bc of her experiences, so she immediately feels bad about 'taking up space' and decides to make up an excuse to get away from the situation to give kohane the chance to comfortably hang out with her friend. and the fact that mizuki goes out of her way to say that she's going to find a place to hide alone is interesting bc the way it's framed it doesn't sound like it means much, but it feels deliberate on her part, like she wants an to know... mizuki's internal world and where we see she has internal bias and how she blames herself or assumes she herself is the problem if she can't make others comfortable, and she takes so much upon herself all the time bc she's used to constant microaggressions and either can't say how she truly feels or has to divest what she feels from its context to make it palatable. but of course kohane is not transphobic, she is someone who has trouble socializing with strangers bc of her own anxiety that has nothing to do with mizuki herself, but mizuki doesn't have access to this perspective like the reader so it's easy for her to assume that she's the problem. it's paranoia but it's understandable considering how she's treated by almost everyone...

[dunedragon]

Good news, I felt in the mood to explore Vampire social dynamics and vocalizations in writing so I had written this out this morning.

Fair warning, it's entirely unedited.

The first new sound Haruka had learned from her son was a low warble.

They were two preteen twins, and human or not they were almost impossible to control. No matter how many times she scolded them, they always seem to find a way to get into trouble.

‘What have I said about rough housing inside?’ she would huff, gesturing over a broken vase. ‘Take it outside!’

'Sorry…' Lan muttered.

‘wrooble wrooble wrooble.’ Hub warbled.

Yes, Mom, is what she’d come to learn it meant.

When Hub finally came home after missing for months, he was different. He was alert, movements sudden and yet his stance perfectly still. His now red eyes watched the world, wide and silent, as if seeing someplace entirely new for the first time.

For Haruka, it was almost like seeing someone new for the first time.

That is not my son, she first thought, yet over time she began to see traces of who he used to be beneath the inhuman exterior. Despite no longer being able to eat his favorite food, he still pestered his brother first thing in the morning. His footsteps were impossibly silent down the hall, but he still poked his head into her bedroom after a bad dream. He could no longer touch the sunlight, but he still watched the old birdhouse in the backyard like he always did.

The second noise she learned was a strange rattling sound. It found its way before laughter, or whenever Lan playfully shoved his brother. He made it when she pat his head, or when he was curling up in bed for the night.

It was also a precursor to bursts of energy and broken vases. She learned to always keep watch if she heard it down the hall.

The third noise was the easiest to understand, or so she thought. The first time Hub had hissed was when there was a knock at the door from the mailman. His fingers had dug into the fabric of the chair as he exposed his fangs at the door, and it nearly scared her half to death. He apologized profusely, he always did, but the hissing never stopped.

He hissed at Lan, he hissed at her, he hissed at his own father when he found the time to be home. Whether she accidentally startled him in the hall, or a light was turned on too quickly, it was always the same.

‘Hisss—! Sorry.’ He’d mumble, covering his mouth.

Of all the changes, this new aggression gave her the most heartache. Did he not feel safe around them? Or had he changed too much, no longer her son, and she was simply housing a monster wearing his skin? Did he hate them for what happened?

She could never forget the way his pupils narrowed. For a split second he seemed like something completely different.

A predator.

She held these fears as she walked home from the convenience store late one night. She had forgotten to buy butter and took Hub with her so he could stretch his legs without worrying about the sun. He walked silently by her side, almost like a shadow glued to her leg as she appreciated the quiet, calm neighborhood they lived in.

An older gentleman walked towards them, on the way to the store with an empty reusable bag in hand. Haruka didn’t give him a second thought. She didn’t even look his way till Hub suddenly gripped her leg with terrifying force.

‘Hiiissss!’

There came no apology.

The older man stepped back, red eyes catching the street light as he bared his own fangs. He let out a terrifying snarl that shot through her like ice in her veins. It was the sound of something built to kill her, that wanted to kill her. Something that some part of her always knew to fear underneath the bed or in the closet.

Hub’s hisses seemed like a kitten in comparison.

‘Hiiisssssssss!’ Hub hissed again, more forcefully.

Haruka couldn’t move. It was as if her blood at turned to ice. She was paralyzed. A small voice deep inside told her it was too late. She couldn’t escape. She would die here.

Hub let out a low, threatening rumble like she had never heard before. The older gentleman bared his fangs before letting out a snort.

“You really think you can take me? Besides, she’s too much for you. How about this, we split her.”

Hub hissed again. It was then that she learned the true meaning behind it all.

Mine.

It was defensive. It was protection. It wasn’t aggression at all. For an agonizing moment, all three stood like ice sculptures lit up in the dark by the overhead street light, a moment carved into time.

Then Hub huffed and spoke in a low growl. “You smell lonely.”

The man bared his fangs once again, but took a step back, then another. Without another word, he turned away, and walked into the shadows, seemingly swallowed by the night till she could no longer see him.

Haruka fell to her knees and sobbed.

Hub carefully wrapped his arms around her, in that slow, cautious way he had ever since he returned from Scilabs.

“Sorry…” He whispered.

She threw her arms back around him and held him close till she could hear him let out a familiar rattle.

“I’m sorry too.” She cried.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

still so insane to me that im probably moving out of my mom's house in a few months like ive never actually moved before?? ive lived in this house my entire life ive been through so much here and now im just. leaving. and it always seemed so far away that id get old enough to finish high school and make that decision. that i would finally make it out of there. ough

[kaijutegu]

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the hellfire club

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”  You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)

Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend). 

I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond. 

While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right. 

I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.

A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.

Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good. 

To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list: 

Mike is visiting!

Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes. 

You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says. 

Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza. 

Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!

I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you. 

Love, El.

P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California. 

–

Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters. 

El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.

Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.

The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly. 

Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.  

Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.

For bug.

The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.  

Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break. 

“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed. 

Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with. 

“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”

You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee. 

Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate. 

You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”

“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”

“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers. 

“Yikes, Dusty.”

“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”

“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”

“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes. 

He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”

Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA. 

You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius. 

“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again. 

You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”

“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”

“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”

You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.

But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club. 

Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.

And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”

Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave. 

Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.

“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.

“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet. 

And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”

Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!” 

“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”

You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”

“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”

–

It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance. 

Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household. 

“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!” 

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that. 

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?” 

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man. 

While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after. 

“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve’s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”

Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”

“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”

Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”

“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”

You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”

Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!” 

“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.

Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous. 

Which means it has to be about someone. 

Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”

“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”

“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.

Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”

“I really don’t care–”

“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”

“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”

“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”

You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”

“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch. 

“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind. 

Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”

“True love’s side.”

Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.

“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend. 

Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”

“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.

“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!” 

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”

“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” 

You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.

Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.

You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end. 

– 

The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.

“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”

“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”

He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.

On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.

Not the best combination, honestly.

With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.

The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.

The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you. 

While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you. 

“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”

“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”

“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.

Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.

Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.

In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.

You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet. 

Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.

“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”

Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”

“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”

Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”

Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”

“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.

“He’s good with a bat.”

Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.

Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her. 

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile. 

Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’. 

You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now. 

But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary. 

Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent. 

You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.

Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne. 

“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match. 

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.

Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin. 

You’re the best of them.

“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”

Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly. 

Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.

Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil. 

You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience. 

“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”

Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them. 

This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.

You hate Jason Carver.

But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.

“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.

“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”

Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”

“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”

Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster. 

You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike. 

Goddamn Eddie Munson. 

“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”

“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”

You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”

Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side. 

A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you. 

Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”

You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”

“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”

“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”

Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”

Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high. 

“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”

“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”

You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”

“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head. 

“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”

Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”

“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.

“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”

“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be. 

You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”

“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”

You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.

“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.

“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”

All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows. 

For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”

It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”

Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”

The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions. 

“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”

“What is?”

“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”

You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”

Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery. 

They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.

– 

Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary. 

You’ll miss him when you graduate. 

Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one. 

“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day. 

You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”

“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his. 

You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for. 

“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom. 

“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too. 

“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table. 

“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.

You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana. 

And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded. 

Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin. 

“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.

Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”

“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”

He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.

Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”

“No.”

“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies. 

You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”

Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others? 

“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.” 

“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”

“No!” You scream at him. 

The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified. 

You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol. 

You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother. 

Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds. 

By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

– 

You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him. 

School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.

He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back. 

For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.

“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd. 

The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true. 

The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster. 

Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song. 

Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash. 

“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin. 

You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”

Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot. 

In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them. 

But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself. 

The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.

“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score. 

You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jaosn tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.” 

Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.

In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”

“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline. 

Lucas is playing.

The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there. 

“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.

Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.

Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.

“Sinclair did it!”

Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.

Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”

He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”

Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!” 

Sin to win, Sinclair!

You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.

“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.

You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else. 

“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.

For once, you can’t find the right words to say.

“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones. 

You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.

– 

Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time. 

“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”

You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.

But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?

“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.

It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”

He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”

“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.

Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”

“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”

“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”

As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms. 

“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked. 

It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known. 

The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”

“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”

“You… you can’t.” 

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”

Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.

“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”

“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”

Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.

But he can’t see that right now.

“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”

You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”

“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”

“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with. 

Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”

“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.” 

He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does. 

Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true. 

“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him. 

Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke. 

“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”

“I think you should go.”

The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely. 

Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart. 

It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”

“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow. 

“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.

For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue. 

The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling. 

Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted. 

“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.

“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”

His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate. 

You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.

You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship. 

Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud. 

“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways. 

“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”

Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”

He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”

“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”

His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.

He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed. 

You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to. 

Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.

“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”

You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull. 

There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[hoseoksluna]

MIST | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.3k

summary: one encounter with jungkook makes you forget about your boyfriend.

playlist: mist / pinterest board: mist

warnings: the unfolding of polyamory, provocation, cuckold kink, cum eating, oc and yoongi fight, use of vulgar names, mentions of female masturbation, punishment, spanking, hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, nipple play, disobedience, use of a sex toy, multiple orgasms, yoongi isn't comfortable with a certain sexual practice at first, spit kink, oc feels pain and likes it

note: it's here, you guys oh my god. this is part two of STEAM. i thought this would have only two parts, but when i got to the end, it was evident that it needs another one. i worked hard on this, guys. if you haven't read my little updates, i was literally sick today and threw up my breakfast, but i still somehow managed to get this writing done, so make sure you let me know how much you love this, hate this, what you expect and what you're feeling. pls!!! my inbox is open for you always x enjoy reading, love you all. ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

side note: HOBI'S NEW ALBUM IS OUT SLDKFJSDLFJSFJSLDF.

The night is feverish. 

So much that small pearls of its perspiration settle over the arc of your hand, between your thumb and your index, peeking from beneath the enfolding of your crossed legs. It’s as if the darkened heavens were hot and bothered while eavesdropping on the conversation you’re having with the two males sitting by the table, one right next to you and the other across from you. Even the clouds have halted their drift and the stars… they haven’t dared to blink, focused entirely on the question slipping from the mouth of the male you’ve known the least amount of time. 

Is this gonna be a one time thing? 

You will your mind to be empty, for if you allow yourself to think about it, your answer is as clear as the flare of those lights above. And you don’t want to voice out how much you like the idea of the sex being continual in fear of being turned down, in fear of Jungkook wanting this to be a one night only matter. What’s worse, you’re terrified of awakening Yoongi’s wrath. You believe the wine in your hand is the only bitterness you can manage to swallow. 

Oh.

You chuckle. 

A mist blankets your shoulders, the softest of summer drizzles. A briskness that steals your attention from the double meaning swarming in your brain. But when you lift your eyes to welcome in the small rain, it’s Jungkook’s gaze that you meet. Dark eyelashes, heavied down by the weight of the half-drunk bottle of red that you and him have been drinking. An ivory swirl of brightness glossing over dilated pupils, fixated on you. On your own blurry left eye, the sheen of your mouth, past your neck to the shimmery glow of your collarbones and your right eye. The coldness of the mist thickens, yet it’s not the reason behind your gooseflesh. No, it’s quite far from it. 

What roughens your skin is that very intentional stare. The slight narrowness to his once perpetually round eyes as he, for a mere second, shifts his gaze from your boyfriend back to you, adamantly expecting a response, one you refuse to have. It’s such a stark change to his countenance that, besides being stirred by it, you’re completely in awe of it. The smooth forehead, the slightly raised brow and smug mouth, now adorned with a lip ring that wasn’t there before. You don’t find the good man with purity in his eyes that, days ago, made a ruckus out of your life sitting before you, but someone else entirely. 

A man, whose arousal emanates out of him like fragrance, seeping into your fresh mango scent scattered along the perimeters of your skin. 

A man, like Yoongi had predicted, came to you like a puppy through him, asking you out for dinner. 

Horny puppy. You squeeze your legs, hiding your faint smile behind the rim of your wine glass, tilting the carmine nectar into your mouth. Jungkook examines the bobble of your throat, the dart of your tongue as the muscle drifts across the rosy brownness of your bottom lip and you’re heedful of it—a moonlight personified, the mist around you like the clouds clinging to that planetary body.

Jungkook calls you by your name. “What’s funny?” 

A momentary stillness. You thought your soft laughter was unheard. Your brain goes empty, mouth parts, the entirety of your vocabulary vanishes— 

“I think that’s something we decide after the night is over,” Yoongi answers Jungkook’s question lowly, propping a strong palm on the cloth of the table. The wet breeze dampens his hair, leaves a glow to his pale face. You wonder how he feels—if he’s still as okay with it as he was while fucking the life out of you—if he’s now, perhaps, facing some internal doubts that you know nothing of, that he hides beneath his words. “A collective decision.” 

He looks at you and beams at you with a tight-lipped smile. An expression that conveys that he wants this for you. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on top of his and Yoongi makes a space for your fingers to fold in between his. Like he always does when he’s giving you backshots. 

A gooseflesh changed for hot flashes. You become the night, its fever thudding inside your lit skin. A familiar ache begins to grow in between your legs, demanding it. As if Jungkook’s lustful expression and energy wasn’t enough, your boyfriend had to remind you of something so intimate. 

You want both of them—right now.

Jungkook’s gape falls on your intertwined hands. Lover’s grasp. You note recognition, and perhaps a flashback, pulses with a dimmed light for a mere heartbeat in his eyes. It worsens your ache and, like Yoongi’s hair, you feel your panties dampen under your dress. You squeeze your thighs one more time before you untangle your legs, your heels clanging on the concrete, your knee bumping into Jungkook’s.

So close to him, yet so far away. 

You let yourself dream about how he fucks. Rough strokes, those muscled thighs straddling you—

“You agree with this?” 

A question from him directed towards you. Your throat dries up, dizzy from being pulled back to Earth. You take a long sip of your wine, but it doesn’t help your state. On the contrary, the buzz of the alcohol makes you tremble all over, intensifying your lightheadedness. You want to be fucked. Multiple times. Until you can’t walk. 

You wet your lips. “Of course,” you say, squeezing Yoongi’s fingers once, twice, letting him know through your own version of Morse code how horny you’re becoming, hoping he gets the memo. “It’s smart. If we made the decision now, who’s to say you won’t get sick of me?” 

Your response hurt you and you cringe, regretting your words. Your knuckles turn white, the breeze brushes through your hair and you relax your hold. Let out a hard breath. 

If he got sick of you after fucking you, you’d hate yourself for the rest of your life. Move out to a cave, far from civilization, so no one would see you ever again. 

Jungkook raises his brows, shaking his head. The smug smile on his lips remains, as if sewn into his skin. You wish you could wipe it away and straddle him right here in front of everyone—

“Sweetheart, don’t think that. I won’t get sick of you.” He toys with the foot of his wine glass, fingers moving it in slow circles as though he was—

Such a fucking tease. 

Your clit throbs. You won’t think that, all right. You’ll keep your mind empty and stupid just for him. 

You watch the movement of his digits, smiling slyly. The night rushes within you and, mentally, you wrap a collar around your neck in order to stop yourself from crawling across the table and taking a seat on his lap. A yearning forms. A yearning to feel the semi you know full well he’s sporting in his pants. You bite your lip, squeezing Yoongi’s hand again. He merely chuckles, aware of what the pair of you is doing and it’s too much for you. 

You need a dick rearranging your guts. Right now. 

Perhaps, two. 

You stifle a groan. 

“Tell you what. I have a cabin out in the mountains. With toys,” Jungkook says and you widen your eyes, his deep voice fraternizing with the night in you. Toys as in…? “An hour away from here. I can show you there how much I’m willing to not get sick of you.” 

Yoongi’s chuckle amplifies and you’re struck. Fucked up. Your cunt drools, ruining your panties. Your cheeks flush. Feverish, beyond feverish—you’re on fire. Your breathing gains speed and fuck. Toys? 

You have no thoughts. All that your brain is filled with is dick. Two dicks. 

Yoongi lifts his hand, unsnarling your intertwinement, and he sneaks it beneath your dress. His fingers feel up the drenched material of your underwear and hums. You reckon he already expected to find you wet and his sound of approval coaxes more of your dewiness to try and come into contact with him, but to your dismay and his, the fabric stands in the way. 

For two beats of time, Yoongi puts pressure on your clit as he feels up more of you and, faintly, so no one hears, you mewl, hiding your face beneath your palm. You swallow your whine for more, instead you sigh, camouflaging your moment of weakness. Bury your gaze into Yoongi’s, silently pleading him to take you home. 

Yoongi only smirks down at you before he faces Jungkook. “She’s wet. I think it’s safe to say she’d like that.” 

You slap his arm and Yoongi takes his hand away. The men laugh and you feel terrible, but not for long. You decide to take charge of the energy. 

“What kind of toys?” You will your voice to be confident and it’s only a split of it that comes out. You don’t mind—it’s enough because it silences their laughter, seriousness taking place instead. 

Jungkook licks his lips, adjusting in his seat—like Yoongi during that video call—and you sense it moving through you. You also feel the need to adjust, to peel your panties away from your cunt, discomfort seizing you a little. “I’ll show you tomorrow. Or the weekend after that?” Your eyes widen in panic. No—no, you can’t wait that long. He smiles fondly at you, sensing your emotions. “Tomorrow, then.”

You sigh in relief, downing your wine, but Jungkook isn’t done with you. 

“Will you pack your little red robe?” 

You choke. 

Amidst the chaos of the situation, you didn’t even realize he saw you. You didn’t even detect his eyes drifting that low. Thought Yoongi’s body colliding into you prevented him from seeing your intimate nighttime attire, but then you grasp that due to your shock, you might have missed that. 

Jungkook’s smirk widens. 

Oh, you want to say you’ll pack your little lace number that Yoongi particularly likes, along with your garters and stockings, though you opt to say something else entirely. You decide you want to steam him a tiny bit. Dominate the energy. Make him uneasy. For ulterior motives. 

“Will you brush off the cobwebs on your condoms  when packing or should I buy you new ones?” You quirk your brow, finger wiping away the drop of red that slipped out of the corner of your mouth. It’s all just talk—you want him to fuck you raw—a straight allusion to his loneliness that Yoongi told you about. Amused, Jungkook’s darkened eyes follow your movement. 

“Will you lick that finger?” 

You’re convinced your bloodstream came to a standstill. You don’t breathe, you don’t hear anything—your entire being becomes him, melding with the night, the moonlight. It’s him who now erases your brain. Yoongi touches your thigh, his fingers skimming the bare skin, but you don’t feel them. No, you pierce your gaze through Jungkook’s, penetrating right into his soul. And you simply decide that you want to own it. 

So much for steaming. 

“Do you want me to?” you retort, fluttering your lashes, the smile you give him as seductive as moonlight fluttering in you. You tap your finger on your bottom lip. Watch as his hand drifts somewhere beneath the table. 

He taps your knee in the same, identical beat. And, instinctively, you widen your legs. Your other knee bumps into Yoongi’s thigh. 

His first touch on your skin. You burn. Thank the heavens for slipping the idea inside your mind to wear a short dress. You inhale a breath in. Bite your lip, impatient for his answer. Tense your body so your trembles aren’t evident. You want to be strong, confident, despite the fact your body longs to submit to Jungkook—to be at his complete disposal, to be his, his to smooth down those quivers. 

Jungkook spreads his fingers along the roundness of your knee. Caresses you once. Then, nods. “Lick it for me.” 

Your heart jumps out of your chest. Right into his glass of wine. A flashback fills your brain—Yoongi saying familiar words to you on the night that perpetually changed your life. Stick it in your mouth for me. It must have rustled through his being just like it has in you. Has caused enough mayhem in him that he used those words. For me. He wants you to be naughty, be a little slut that listens to his commands—for him. 

Oh, and you shall do as he asks. 

Yoongi spreads an arm on the back of your chair, fingers sinking into your hair. The attention of both men, the lewdness, your wetness coating your panties, the warmth of the wine in your stomach, the night and the soft rain—you brim with life. You’re so elated that you’re sure you’re luminous. 

You plunge your red-tinged finger into your mouth. Keep it open for both men to see how you swirl your tongue around the digit before you close it. You make exaggerated sucking noises, your instincts and habits telling you to roll your eyes, but you decide against them. You’re in public after all—and you don’t really want to give Jungkook the full experience. Not yet. 

But then Yoongi pulls your hair and unwittingly, in a second, you moan. You shoot him a look, withdrawing your finger. He only chuckles, loosening his hold on your hair, the love in his eyes growing, mingling with joy and excitement. The sight of it calms you like still, deep waters and suddenly, you’re suffused with the desire to kiss him. 

Jungkook steals your attention, however. In typical fashion. 

He squeezes your knee between his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. He’s propped his elbows on his thighs and the position broadens his shoulders more, the fabric of his black linen shirt taut around his muscles. The breeze quivers his lashes, strengthening the dimness and the lustfulness in his eyes. No glint of light to be found—just an abyss, bottomless eternity, enlivened by the scent of chocolate, the color of his eyes. It doesn’t unnerve you, on the contrary it boundlessly stimulates you. 

“You listen well,” he drawls, skimming his first knuckle down the smoothness of your shin before trailing back up. Gooseflesh—hard, thrilling gooseflesh. Your breath comes out choppy and you’re too transfixed by his feisty, lascivious aura to do something, anything about it. “But can you misbehave?” 

Your jaw falls open. At a loss for words. Brain muddy, cunt dripping. Your vocabulary long gone, your decision to be the one who takes charge of the situation long forgotten, long erased—more like—by someone who’s proved himself to be more dominant than your own boyfriend. Your boyfriend who has made you cry multiple times during sex. 

You let your trembles show. Bare, vulnerable. 

Yoongi strokes your hair, nuzzling his face behind your ear, placing a singular kiss there and it grounds you. Envelops a shield of safety around you. The breeze nourishes it. 

Jungkook slaps the side of your thigh softly. You gasp almost breathlessly, the impact vibrating through your body, the pulse on your clit a full drum. 

“Tomorrow then. At my cabin. Bring your robe,” he mutters, hypnotizing you with his gaze and you submit to it, unreservedly. This time, he drags his palm down your shin and his warmth guides you as you extend your leg for him, propping it between his outstretched legs, on the edge of his chair. He straightens, welcoming your gesture. “No condoms, no panties. Pussy dripping, preferably.” He halts the venture of his hand at your ankle, long fingers stretching to grab a hold of the heel of your stiletto. Flicks his eyes to Yoongi. “You can either make sure she’s wet or,” he pauses, whisking his gaze back to you. “You can touch your pussy for me? How’s that?” 

A carousel of dreams floods your mind and, fighting against the lodge in your throat, you voice out the one you like the most. You don’t want Yoongi to decide for you—you desire the decision to be yours, yours only. “Can I call you then?” 

Jungkook quickly raises his brows, stupefied by your answer. He didn’t expect that from you, and that fact makes you giddy. Night flowers begin to bloom in you, evening primrose and chocolate daisy—his flowers. They spread their petals when he says, “of course you can. Call me from his phone.”

Ever so persistent in the game of the roleplay. You could have exchanged numbers, but no. He wants it to be from the cuck’s phone. 

Yoongi grips your thigh, hard enough to make you wince. Even through your hypnosis, tipsiness and arousal, you sense that something is wrong. You turn your head to look at him and you discover that the love in his eyes, joy and excitement has gone out. Solemness has replaced it and into it, little by little, like the bottle of red Jungkook now tilts to your glass, overflows his wine of wrath. 

The threat you feared the most. 

You drop your leg to the ground and Jungkook lets you. Yoongi slackens his hold and you wonder what it was exactly that Yoongi didn’t like. The fact that Jungkook touched your leg or the plan between the pair of you—you touching yourself for him—that never had his approval? You release a breath, aware that you’ve done something very bad and your hypnosis and your smile declines with it. You even push your glass away, sobering up. The night flowers in you wilt. 

Yoongi relaxes beside you and you slip your fingers between his. 

You must have overdone it and the perception of that causes guilt to pool in your core. You should’ve at least looked at Yoongi to make sure he’s okay with it before jumping head-first. Nerves rise within you and you reach for your pack of cigarettes, hoping to chase your negative feelings away. Both men watch you, but the energy has already shifted. Arousal has evaporated and now, like the mist, seriousness settles in its place. Jungkook gives you a soft smile and you realize that your guilt is written all over your face, but he doesn’t say anything. Not to you; not to Yoongi.

The man before you returns to the good man you know, although his smug pride doesn’t let him become the healer that you know him to be. 

The ride home is silent. 

Jungkook texted Yoongi the address to his cabin as soon as you said your goodbyes. Your boyfriend scowled at the message before he pocketed his phone, taking your hand and walking a little faster to his car, as if to run away from the mess you’ve created. You felt so bad that you let him trail you behind him like a child, chin tilted to your chest, the heft of your guilt pressing down at you like a murky cloud. 

The rain is thickening by the time Yoongi drives down the familiar road to his apartment. He keeps his hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel and the gear stick, knuckles white like the moonlight that left you and fled back to the dark heavens. He doesn’t reach for the radio or his phone to play some music. Lets the rain sing instead; lets the rain mend the tension between you. You overfill, uncomfortably, with so many beginnings to your sentences, but none of them fit right—none of them really portray what you think you should say to him, so it all falls into the abyss of the night that still lingers within you. 

It’s Yoongi who speaks first when he kills the engine, as if he needed the fifteen minute long car drive to think about what just happened, but it’s not the words that you want to hear. He stares ahead at the line of cars parked before him, at the canopy of trees bending to their roofs. The pitter-patter sounds of the raindrops worsen the guilt eating at your insides, especially when Yoongi remains seated with his hands in his lap.

“You’re not calling him tomorrow.” 

Your deduction was right. He didn’t like the idea of you calling Jungkook while you’d be touching yourself. You get that he has the right to not feel comfortable letting his friend in on a particular sexual practice, but you want to know why. If you’re not getting your own way and he gets to decide everything, you at least want to know the reason. 

“Why?” you ask, calmly. I want to, you don’t add. You fold your hands on your lap similarly to him, mirroring his body language. Feel the bubble of your disappointment sizzling in you. 

“You’re fucking him tomorrow and that’s the end of it,” he mutters, waving a hand through the air sharply to emphasize his words. Doesn’t look at you. Not once. “No collective fucking decision. One time and that’s it.” 

You will your calmness to stay, even when a foam of your own wrath pours into your disappointment. Do your own wishes and desires not matter at all in this situation? Or does the unfolding of it only belong to Yoongi and you have no say in it? Are you to shut your mouth or speak up? 

He was the one who made a comment about your self-pleasure to Jungkook when he was fucking the shit out of you and picked up his phone to call him. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. Why did he say it if the thought of you pleasuring yourself on the phone with his friend makes him jealous? Did he really think Jungkook wouldn’t latch onto it, not want it to play out in real life?

The uncertainty, the questions devour your gut, but you go back to the start. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Yoongi sighs. Hangs his head and rakes his hands through his hair. “I said—”

You suck in a breath. “That’s not what I asked,” you spit out with a venom that you didn’t mean and Yoongi finally looks at you—catches you closing your eyes at the rush of your emotions and turning your head away from him. “I want to know why.”

Yoongi scoffs. “How come you don’t know, huh?” His voice raises in volume and it paralyzes you with fear—he’s never yelled at you before. The question itself strikes you cold and you don’t like the feeling of it crawling up your legs. “How come I have to fucking remind you?” 

You’re embarrassed that you don’t know what he’s talking about, caught in the middle. You want to get out of this car and walk home, afraid—so terribly afraid of what might come next. Fuck the rain, you don’t care. 

Silence, intertwined with the long breaths that he’s trying to calm himself with, floods the car. You don’t know what to say and Yoongi keeps it at that. You consider the conversation finished. 

Your hand reaches for the handle. 

“Stay in the car.” 

Your back faces him. “I don’t want to be here.” 

“Then get drenched in the fucking rain.”

In disbelief, you turn around to look at him. Yoongi boils with anger, elbow propped on the door, index finger outstretched along his cupid’s bow, staring down the myriads of cars before him, setting them on fire with his gaze. 

“And I will,” you bark, frowning at him, needing to have the last word. “Don’t come running after me.” 

Your hand reaches the handle again and pops it open, your foot swinging over to the wet ground, but Yoongi grabs your leg and hauls you back inside, closing the door shut.

You open your mouth to yell at him. “What is your—”

Yoongi takes your face in his hand, puckers your lips and kisses you harshly. You groan, but you don’t fight it. In fact, you kiss him back, needing him—needing him warm and not cold to you. He stays nose-to-nose once he withdraws, watching as your irises dilate. The sadness that you catch whirling past his eyes punches you in the gut, hard enough that you regret the fight you’ve caused, regret every word you said and every action that can never be erased. You hate yourself for your desires, for your ugly soul and your abhorrence becomes an anchor wrapped around your heart, dragging it down. 

You whimper, but no tears come out. Yoongi pulls you onto his lap and cradles you, folding you into his chest. He rubs you back in circles, sweeps your hair to one side and you cling to his heat, wondering what the fuck just happened. 

You and him never had an argument before, never met each other halfway through the decaying meadow of negative feelings while being two opposite forces. You both were always there for the other person, absorbing their feelings, on their side through and through. Until now, you’ve truly never been two separate people with separate emotions and it’s a reality check. A breath of fresh air—the sudden, brisk disentanglement of an unhealthy attachment. 

Jungkook didn’t just make a ruckus out of your life, but out of your relationship, too. And by that ruckus, he healed it. 

And right then and there, you find the beginning to your sentence that you were searching for. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the fabric of his polo shirt and your apology stops Yoongi’s motions. You lift your head to look into his eyes. “I should’ve checked in with you—I admit that. It was wrong of me. You’re allowed to not be okay with something and I should respect it, act accordingly, even when I might have a different opinion.” 

And your opinion shouldn’t change to be identical to his. Your thinking is your thinking. You’re your own person. 

The anchor loosens and falls from your heart when that understanding takes form within you. You feel much lighter. 

Yoongi frowns, but it doesn’t perturb you. Not anymore. “I will say this once so listen to me carefully,” he says, curling a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not letting him see you touch yourself because that belongs to me—that’s what we do. Remember that.” 

So that’s what he meant. Guilt clenches your heart in a deathly grip for not knowing, for not realizing it. 

“If you so much as touch your clit tomorrow when he fucks you, I won’t think twice to carry you away and leave him with blue balls,” he continues, keeping his hand on your cheek.  “You’re still mine, even when I’m letting him have you. You’re mine. You got that?” 

You place your hands on his shoulders and nod. 

“Are you still okay with it, though?” you ask, not expecting him to go along with it after this and you wouldn’t be disappointed, not anymore. The healing that took place is bigger than your desire. The freedom that you feel is better than anything your intimate parts ask for. Your relationship at this very state, at this very moment, has grown past the sexual part. Before it was just lustful love. “We don’t have to do it. Jungkook would understand, wouldn’t he?” 

Yoongi sighs and presses a kiss on your cheek. You feel all of his stress and wrath dispersing into your skin. “I want this for you, honey. You were so excited about it, so into it. I’ve never seen you filled with so much light before.” 

You do the same for him—you press the same kiss, on the same right side of his cheek. “So just tomorrow then?” 

A tight-lipped smile, like the one at the beginning of the night. Yoongi nods. “Just tomorrow.” 

You disobeyed in every way you could. Brought panties and condoms. Left your red little robe at home. Didn’t look once at the lace little number you planned to pack. Decided you wanted to keep that for Yoongi’s eyes only. 

Decided you were going to paint your encounter with Jungkook with different colors, one that differs from the stained ones on your palette that you use with Yoongi. 

He wants you to be bad. Yoongi wants you to be good. 

It’s all your mind is suffused with as Yoongi drives into the woods and the sunlight spilling through the windshield, cutting through the trees, tempers it. No music, no conversation. 

You’re empty. You think the brown barks of the passing trees have more life in them than you do and along with that difference rise questions. Questions of what you’re allowed to do and what you’re not. Questions that you’re wary to ask. 

Not because there’s a lingering tension between you and Yoongi after the fight. As a matter of fact, he made love to you after you both ran for the door. Licked you clean of the rain while breathing in the heady scent of petrichor on your skin. All that had been broken was mended, beautifully. The reason why you’re nervous to ask is that you don’t want to venture back to that place of wrath. Where you are right now is a place of brisk freedom, one that you don’t want to leave, but to have a clear state of mind, you reckon you have to risk it. 

You place your hand on top of Yoongi’s on the gear stick, breaking the silence with your body language. You turn your torso halfway to face him. Meet his angelic early-afternoon-kissed countenance, hidden by his black shades and the long wisps of hair falling to each side of his face. 

Murmuring his name, Yoongi only hums at your call. 

“I have some questions,” you say slowly, carefully making your way to the place you’re timid to go to.

“Ask away, honey.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I know I’m not allowed to touch myself and I won’t, I promise. But is there anything else that’s off limits?” 

Yoongi also swallows sorely, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He takes a moment to think about it and because you’ve already brainstormed what he might not like, you make it easy for him. 

“Is he allowed to kiss me?” you try, fingers grasping your dainty necklace to play with, to distract your nerves. 

“Kissing is a part of sex, but if you’re not comfortable with kissing him, you don’t have to. Please,” Yoongi says your name with a sigh. “Don’t force yourself to do anything that doesn’t feel good. I beg you.” 

A hit of your liquid emotions. A little vein of life springing in your body. You blink the sudden tears away, dipping your fingers into the space between his. You’re so grateful to have such a thoughtful, intelligent man like him. 

“Okay, what about blowjobs?” 

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Ponders it. “Well, that’s an important part of the kink, isn’t it?” He looks at you momentarily before bringing his eyes back to the road. “Watching your girlfriend suck someone else’s dick. That’s the appeal.” 

“Besides watching her get fucked.” 

He chuckles shortly. “That’s what I’m most excited about.” 

A soft smile. “You’re excited about watching me get fucked?” Yoongi nods, but you didn’t get the answer you wanted. You go back. “So you’re not comfortable with me sucking his—”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his forehead before slapping his hand back down on the steering wheel. “I don’t know yet, honey. We’ll see when we get there.” He squeezes it, the white of his knuckle appears and you take a mental note of that. No blowjobs, or no overindulging in the act, more like. Not knowing is an answer, too. 

“And he’s allowed to eat me out?” 

He doesn’t smile as he says, “he’s skilled with his tongue. You’ll lose your mind. It’s all I could ever want for you.” 

You raise your brows in doubt. “No one is as skilled as you.” At that, his coy smile finally rises and you brush your thumb across the side of his hand. “Will you join in or are you just gonna watch?” 

Yoongi shifts the gear and speeds down the road. “I was planning to watch only, but I guess it depends on the situation. I’m willing to join if I feel like it.” He lifts your hand and kisses the soft skin. “You nervous, honey?” 

You still feel slightly empty, no nerves to be found. You shake your head ‘no’. 

“You’re gonna like it there. It’s a nice cabin.” 

What Yoongi said was an understatement. 

When you witness the greenery enveloping the mountains, you stand gaping with your mouth half open. A warm summer wind billows in and out of the balcony, ushering in such liveliness and joy of life that you feel it slinking into each and every pore of your body, filling you up with all that you’ve been lacking. Giddiness clutches you and lingers, the flimsy curtains quivering against your thigh with each movement to and fro. You willingly become the nature—the sunlight and the slowly diffusing mist wrapped around the grays, blues and greens. The trees curtsy at your presence and a fond smile blossoms on your face. 

Now, at last, you can’t wait to get fucked. You’re glad it’s going to happen at such a lovely place like this. 

Jungkook, dressed in a white oversized T-shirt and a pair of cargos, takes your travel bag from Yoongi’s hand. He looks so soft that it’s hard to believe you’re staring at the same man from yesterday—he changes drastically when he’s aroused, like you takes on the likeness of the dark whenever he hears its call. It’s fascinating to you. 

“Come see the room upstairs.” 

Quietly, you and Yoongi follow him, your feet thudding along the wood of the stairs. And there, there your breath gets snatched altogether. 

A white, heavenly canopy above the king sized bed, white furniture—void of any dust—adorned with nourished plants that sway and rustle in the wind. The summer breathes through the open wide windows and in the corner, next to a dresser, a mirror stands, a mirror with a rocking chair right beside it that causes gooseflesh to prick at your skin. 

If this is where you’re getting fucked, Yoongi will have first row view of it. It’s as if Jungkook planned it all along and that speculation causes a shiver to run down your spine. 

Jungkook sets your bag and Yoongi’s on the mattress. Skims his surroundings in case there’s any untidiness that he hasn’t touched and one glance at Yoongi tells you that he spent the first half of the day cleaning up the place. 

Cute puppy. You and Yoongi share a smile. 

“This is where you’ll be sleeping,” Jungkook says, straightening his spine. 

“We’ll be sleeping?” you joke and the men shoot you a look, which makes you burst out into laughter. The sound blends into the song of the birds and the sway of the trees. You feel a spark of joy perk up in your chest. 

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.” 

Oh. 

He said it so casually that you feel hot all over. You glimpse at Yoongi, though his face utters no words of emotion. Eyes fixed at a point on the hardwood floors, hands in his pockets, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. Did he not say he was excited to watch you get fucked? Have you made a mistake? 

You rake a hand through your hair, exhausted of your questions and doubt. 

Jungkook leads you back down to the main floor, but Yoongi stays behind. Wants to take a shower before lunch. Nervousness nips at your fingertips at the thought of being alone with his friend, but you nod anyways, having no other choice. 

You watch the swing of his body as he goes down the stairs, little wisps of hair bouncing on the back of his head that you find immensely endearing. They’re like some floppy ears of a puppy to you. Your breasts bounce as well with each skip down and you become aware of how full they are in your low neckline as with each movement your bare, pebbled nipples graze against its fabric, stimulating you, sending a familiar ache down to your intimate parts beneath the ruffles of your skirt. 

You need to be very careful from this moment on upon this dangerous territory. 

“I want to show you something,” Jungkook says, walking towards the balcony. He doesn’t look back at you, he just expects that you’re following him blindly and something about that overwhelms you peculiarly. You want to slap yourself for getting aroused so quickly—you just got here. 

He extends his arms along the railing and you saunter to his side, taking a peek above his shoulder but failing, miserably. All you face is the hard wall of his muscles, even when you lift yourself on your tippy toes and it makes you huff out a frustrated breath against the material of his T-shirt, despite the fact his tall form dampens your cunt—

Is it your ovulation day? Fuck, you make a mental note to check that later. 

Jungkook turns his head to look at you and chuckles. Grabs the back of your neck to push you closer to the railing and you fear your eyes will pop out of their sockets due to the way you widen them. The second body part he touched—one of many. You hope, you pray he keeps his hand there but he withdraws as soon as your fingers wrap around the wood of the railing. You narrow your lips in a tight line. 

He points to what he wanted to show you. You try your hardest to not notice the details of his tattooed hand, to ignore the silver ring around that index finger of his and the ghost of his touch on the nape of your neck. You close your eyes for a heartbeat to regain your composure before they catch the view he’s pointing to. 

A pond. A clear body of water under a thick weeping willow that wets its petals in the freshness of it. Your mouth parts. You sense his gaze on you, but you can’t reciprocate it. Not when such a lovely view like this lulls your soul, permeates it with the pleasure of beauty. 

“Can we get closer?” you ask, mesmerized completely. 

Jungkook grabs your elbow. Another body part. He drags you to another set of stairs. And you realize that the balcony is a veranda of some sort. The feeling of grass under your bare feet is exhilarating and, like a child, you begin to run to the pond, your skirt furling around you, exposing a sliver of your bottom. Jungkook lets you. Walks sluggishly with his hands in his pockets, watching you—smirking at that piece of skin he got to see. 

You crouch to touch the stillness of the water, your fingertips reflected upon it. The coldness, despite the steaming sunlight, is so refreshing and you long to take a dip, to fill your hot body with the briskness it so evidently needs. 

Standing upright, you twist to yap about how beautiful the scenery is—but Jungkook pushes you into the water. 

You were so wrong. So very wrong. 

Your feverish body didn’t need the coolness of the pond to dull your arousal because when you come up for air and your little outfit sticks to you body, your heartbeat picks up its speed, thumping in tandem with your clit. Jungkook wipes his smirking mouth at the sight of you and you’ve convinced that’s your undoing. 

Nipples stiffened through your little top. Skirt shrunken. Skin wet and glossy. You run your palms through your hair, squeezing water out of your strands, feeling sensual, confident and so fucking playful. You smirk right back at him when you wade your way to him. Pull your shoulders back, tits on full show for him, when you lift your leg onto the grass. 

And you stalk him down. You thought he’d move but he stays put. Those hands still in his pockets, those eyes zeroing down on yours—now different, now much smaller. Darker. Willing you to come after him. 

“Prick.” You screw up your face at him, your chest tightening, an inch away from his. 

Jungkook releases a breath. Grins smugly, briefly, swiping his tongue down the side of his inner cheek, as if he liked the fact you called him something like that. His irises drift down to your tits unabashedly and you swear you can see his hands twitching—

“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs, irises back on yours, twinkling, dilated. “Wet.” 

You blush. Ache to be touched. Think about Yoongi and whether he’s finished with his shower because you need to be attended to. Taken to a safe place where the pleasure of his words and energy can unfold, where you can enjoy it. But Jungkook hypnotizes you again—and you don’t know how he does it, how he manages to draw your body close to his without hands. You hate him for it. 

“Prick,” you repeat, more to yourself than him, drops of water trickling down every perimeter of your skin. 

Jungkook cups your chin, raising it to his level. “And what else?” 

You dart out your tongue and wet your mouth— slowly around the arc of your top lip to tease him. Then, you narrow your eyes even more at him. “Asshole.” 

Affectionately, he titters, influenced by your actions so much that you catch flecks of drunkenness in his features. It makes you feel so brilliant that you beam up at him and once his laughter softens, he reciprocates the grin. Like you and Yoongi had, but in a different way. 

The swish of the willow tree. A teetering bird. Jungkook fondles your glowy cheek. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat but you push against it. Want to speak up. “I couldn’t.” 

He frowns. “But did you want to?”

You nod. The question causes you to blossom, shed the last of thorns left in your body from the attachment. He’s the only person you could say this to and naively you trust that he won’t peep a word to Yoongi. A relief bolts through you that you put yourself first and spoke your truth for the first time in your life. You understand the reason why Yoongi isn’t comfortable with that practice and you promised him you wouldn’t do it. Intending to keep your word, it doesn’t change your opinion, however. Your opinion being that there’s nothing wrong with letting him see this part of your sex life. 

It could be reversed. Jungkook being the one who watches. 

He wraps his fingers back around your chin, hovers his thumb an inch away from your lips, as if he’s fighting himself from touching them. “Tell me with your words.” 

A question that makes the time stand still. Do you listen or misbehave? 

The decision is fast. 

You press up your body against his. Jungkook sucks in a breath at the sensation of your stiffened nubs beneath his pecs, the water of the pond soaking through his T-shirt, marking your tits on him. You interlock your hands behind your back and Jungkook withdraws his hand. Surprises you when he lets it roam down your arm until he finds your clasped wrist. 

He’s waiting for your answer. You know he is. And you want to gratify the puppy. 

“I did want to rub my clit for you,” you breathe out and the hotness of his exhale envelopes you in a heat, even more so when his other hand grips your wrist and nuzzles you even further into the shadow of his body. 

Hard length against your tummy. The roundness of his nose nudging against yours. It’s too much, way too fucking much and you mewl—to which Jungkook immediately responds, approves of the sound, of your neediness and presses you closer to him, your tits squished against him. 

Lips above your ear, he whispers, “would you have called me or would you have let me see?” 

He takes both of your wrists into his fist and his other hand goes to your wet hair, smoothing down the strands. You find the gesture calming, calming enough for you to say, “let you see.” 

You inhale his scent—wood, vanilla and fabric softener. The fragrance of gentleness. 

“Hm, would you have fingered yourself for me?” Jungkook continues, pulling your hair so you look at him. No hint of darkness in his eyes, but tenderness—a healing kind of tenderness that makes you give yourself over to him. 

“Yes. More than once.” 

Jungkook grunts. Turns you around and flips your skirt to see if you’re wearing any panties. Is met with the bareness of your behind as your choice of underwear for the day is a white thong. Optical illusion. 

A quick heartbeat. Dry throat. 

He straightens you and presses you back against him—this time from behind. Lips to ear, the same one. You feel the shape of him on your palms. Thick. Big. You roll your eyes back. “On the count of three, you run and hide. If I find you, you get fifteen spanks for wearing panties when I specifically told you not to.” His breathing turns ragged, in sync with yours, the thought of punishing you turning him on. 

“What happens if you can’t find me?” You squeeze his full balls and you hear that grunt again, vibrating through you. 

“You don’t wanna know. Did you forget I have toys?” 

With that, he pushes you and you gaze back at him with horror—a lustful horror that blazes you. What kind of toys does he have? You want to find out, badly enough that you don’t mind misbehaving. 

Jungkook begins to count. 

You don’t wait until you hear the number three before you run for your life. 

Inside the cabin, near the balcony, you bump into Yoongi’s naked chest. And you don’t have time to react before Yoongi scowls down at you, ridding you of any sounds of shock that desire to pour out of you. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” he asks, bracing you with both hands, skimming a glance upon the sight of you. 

You panic. “Yoongi, I—”

A creak on the hardwood floors behind you. You round your brows. Will you ever make a decision on your own? Your fate was, again, picked for you. By Yoongi, by Jungkook—who didn’t give you enough time to hide. 

Even a tendril of disappointment doesn’t have time to perforate your being because you sense another hand on the ruffle of your dripping skirt. 

“Tell me why you didn’t take the second to make sure she was bare for me? You don’t check her holes?” 

A deep, indignant murmur. Not expressed towards you, but towards your boyfriend. Yoongi’s scowl deepens, but you smile through your shock—the sun leaking through the clouds—and you sneak a finger along the definition of his abdomen that tenses under your touch. A conveyance that it has begun—that he should play along. You nod your head even, shortly, letting him know it’s okay. 

Yoongi relaxes. Drifts his hands to your palms, holds them. Flicks his eyes to Jungkook above your head. Swallows. “She’s a brat that has a mind of her own,” he says and perhaps he’s right. Now you get to be one, at last. “She didn’t even pack her robe. Did she tell you that?” 

You freeze. Jungkook fists your skirt. 

Lips back to your ear. Heat radiating. You hope Yoongi didn’t see the marks of your breasts on his T-shirt. “Is that right?”

Vigor courses through you. You get to be a brat. And the possibility makes you feel infinitely alive. 

“Yes,” you giggle, and when Yoongi gives you an endearing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, you find that safe place you were searching for, that you needed. “I figured I should be naked for the occasion.” 

Jungkook scoffs. “And yet you disobeyed me. Do you even use your brain or are you just that horny?” 

Your lashes quiver at that, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, feeling stupid, although you know the reason behind your defiance. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He pushes you towards Yoongi until you collide into his chest. If your panties weren’t drenched from the pond, his manhandling would’ve taken care of that already. “Turn her around and strip her.” 

You panic. Fear that Yoongi will see your tits on his T-shirt. Noticing your emotions, Jungkook understands. Pinches the back of his shirt and flings it on the back of the couch. Broad shoulders, big pecs, deeply defined abdominal muscles and the lines of his V leading into his intimate parts. No happy trail. Jungkook smiles at your relief. Your body flutters. 

Yoongi’s hands grasp the hem of your soaked top and swiftly pull it over your head, making your full breasts bounce from the impact. He can’t help but knead them, face nuzzling into the crook of your forest-scented neck to pepper kisses there, and you catch the protest in Jungkook’s eyes—only to watch it dwindle away with the slow realization that he can’t tell your boyfriend not to touch you. 

It makes you whimper. And the licks of Yoongi’s tongue and harsh kisses merely heighten that sound. 

He continues as his hands find the waistband of your skirt and drag it down your hips until it plops onto the floor. And to fully present you to him at last, he hooks his thumbs under your thong—at which Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. Walking towards you, he kneels before you and Yoongi blows on the traces of saliva he left on the side of your neck. Shivers, ones that Jungkook smooths down on your thighs to calm you down before he rips your panties in one motion. 

If Yoongi wasn’t holding you, you’d fall to the floor—your legs boneless, jelly. 

Like a leaf out in the forest, your ruined thong plummets to your feet. Jungkook lifts your ankle, helping you step out of it. Throws the scrap on top of his T-shirt, perhaps as a keepsake. 

He doesn’t rise. Gazes upon your cunt, instead. Upon the glistening of your folds and lips, the swollenness of your clit. You part your legs wider for him. In appreciation, he looks up at you and strokes the back of your knee. Pupils dilated, the black swallowing the brown. And when Yoongi presses his length against you, pinches your nipples and you roll your eyes back, your attention stolen, Jungkook rises to his feet. 

Licks his fingers and places them on your clit, starting a speedy series of circles—and you can’t catch your breath. Not when Yoongi rolls your nipples under his digits, not when Jungkook narrows his eyes at you and commands, “apologize.” 

The pleasure overwhelms you so fast and you can’t speak. Can’t for the life of you remember how to apologize and what for, especially not when you grind your ass against Yoongi’s length and he grunts into your ear, not when you’re aware of the quickening of Jungkook’s breath. 

Briefly, Jungkook speeds up his pace before he plunges the same wet digits into your hole. Doesn’t let you adjust, but instead keeps filling you to the brim. Then, with the same rapidness, he fucks you. 

And you can’t stop yourself from coming and drenching his hand. The second fastest orgasm of your life. Your drops of essence are added to the pile of chunks of dry mud, grass and the pond water dripping from your hair on the floor. 

Jungkook withdraws, completely. And you feel cold without his heat, without his closeness. “Why did you come?” 

Yoongi begins to focus on your earlobe and you perceive the smug, proud smirk on his mouth. You don’t know what to say—beyond overwhelmed, beyond fucked out. All you know is that you don’t have enough, that you need more, that you hated how quickly your orgasm came upon you. 

Jungkook takes Yoongi’s hands gently and rearranges them. The right one on your cunt, the left one on your jawline. To your surprise, he lets him. Something about that coaxes a string of your wetness to trickle down your thigh. 

Yoongi’s hold on your chin is rough, causing a litany of soft mewls to spill out of your mouth as you wait for the next move. Needy, horny. And your mewls turn into loud moans that waft out into the forest when Jungkook grips your tits, pushes them together and licks against both of your nipples, your whole body fluttering, trembling, weak and stimulated. Yoongi begins to rub your clit and Jungkook catches you go cross-eyed, stifling his chuckle, but smiling at you regardless. 

Drawing close to you until your bare, wet nipples come into contact with his skin, he glimpses at your mouth once before boring his eyes into yours. “Apologize,” he says lowly. “Apologize for wearing panties.” 

Yoongi squeezes your cheeks, puckering your mouth, despite the fact this is something you only do together. Then, Jungkook tilts his head to the side and kisses you softly, owning you entirely. The puffy tenderness of his mouth, the gentleness which he pressed that kiss with—Yoongi squeezes your cheeks even harder, opening your jaw, giving Jungkook the green light to use his tongue and you’re gone. 

You’re gone when Jungkook swipes his tongue on top of yours. Gone when he toys with it, swirls around it for a moment before closing his lips around yours, kissing you deeply—the smacking sound so loud in your ears, so delicious that you moan, losing your strength to stand and sagging a little bit in Yoongi’s arms. 

“Fuck,” you utter once he lets you breathe and even through the hypnosis, the hot flashes signaling the upcoming of your second orgasm and the blurriness of your vision, you can see how much that kiss affected him. 

Softening glossy eyes, features loosening—smirk wiped clean, unbelief, wooziness and arousal in its place instead. Mouth parted, puffy, shiny with saliva. A beautiful, extraordinary sight. 

“She can’t apologize, but she can swear,” Jungkook comments, but it doesn’t reflect the turmoil happening on the inside of him. And it doesn’t explain what he does next. 

He kisses you again. More gently than before. A slight whirl of tongue around yours before he closes his lips against you all over again. Although this time, he doesn’t stop. He pinches your nipples with his fingers, over and over, while moving his mouth against yours, a slow ripple of the pond behind you if there ever was one. And you feel the heat, the sweat coating your body and you feel Jungkook feeling you come. You don’t have to make a sound. He knows. 

Your orgasm is a deep current moving through you. Like that kiss. You lose yourself in it, eyes rolled back into darkness, fluttering to and fro—from light to dark—and when you resurface, you find Jungkook’s cavernous, enthralled gaze fixed on you, fixed on the forging process of your orgasm taking roots in you. 

Yoongi lets you drop to the floor, breathless. Jungkook shoots him a dirty look, but you reach for the button of his pants, not caring. He stops you with a gentle grasp of your wrist. Bends to your level. 

“You’re not sucking dick. Not mine, not his,” Jungkook snarls, helping you stand to your feet. Hooks an arm under your knees and back and lifts you into his arms—carries you upstairs, without any other words spared. 

He sets you on the bed. Gently cleans your feet with a wet cloth and when he’s done, he takes a seat on the white rocking chair across from you. Palms his length briefly before he manspreads, propping his elbows on his thighs like he did at dinner. Once Yoongi arrives, he pats your head and caresses your hair, an apology for letting you fall. You’re on the verge of tears. 

Jungkook doesn’t even look at him. “Fifteen spanks from him for wearing panties. Fifteen more from me for not apologizing. To me.” 

Yoongi never spanked you. You recognize it’s as much of a punishment for him as it is for you. They haven’t been friends for a day. Jungkook must be very well aware of Yoongi’s disliking of any impact play. He might like to make you cry during sex, but he never uses violence to do so. He uses his words, his dominance and his length. 

Jungkook is teaching him a lesson for letting you drop to the floor. And it coaxes an onrush of foreign emotions to swarm within you. You’re touched. Deeply, deeply touched. 

So much that you don’t take in the fact you’re getting spanked thirty times. 

Yoongi scowls and you’re sick of seeing it. Getting on your knees, you wait for him to sit down. He remains standing. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Sit down, hyung.” 

Power play. He has no business ordering him around and calling him hyung while at it. Has no business to be in control when he’s the bull. Your essence sticks to your thighs. 

“I’m not spanking her,” Yoongi mutters. “Do it yourself.” 

Jungkook leans back, a finger to his temple. Darkness soaks him in heat and he shines, dimly. “You allowed it to happen, so you punish her. For me.” In other words: You dropped her, so you’re getting punished. 

Yoongi has no other choice. You can see the defeat wrung into his face and he doesn’t look at his friend as he sits down. You do. 

And the look you share should mangle your heart, but it doesn’t. You should feel bad that you’re on his side and not on Yoongi’s, but you don’t. 

Purposefully, you angle your pussy so Jungkook has a perfect view of her as you crawl on Yoongi’s lap. One leg on the mattress, the other in the middle of his thighs—

“Lie down,” Jungkook orders and you listen, immediately, plopping down on Yoongi’s lap, making him gasp. 

Yoongi cages you in. Pushes you farther towards his back, but you fight against it. You want to look at Jungkook when you’re getting spanked by your boyfriend for the first time, and so you twist your torso to the side. Just in time to catch a sunray penetrating his aura of darkness, enkindling him softly. 

With his hand wrapped around his still clothed cock, Jungkook nods at Yoongi. You didn’t even realize he was waiting for his signal. Your pussy drools. Jungkook squeezes his girth in response. 

The first spank is tender. And so is the second and the third. Jungkook sighs, rubbing his temple, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. 

Fourth and fifth—it gains a small amount of intensity, barely. Sixth and seventh, he rubs both of your cheeks as if it hurt, when in reality it was a caress to you. 

Jungkook slowly blinks at you, telling you to be patient through that gesture. 

Because it’s the tenth one that makes you gasp. The prickling pain coursing through your body, pooling at your core—your core that shows him how much you liked that sharp spank. Jungkook smiles, proven right. 

Yoongi’s breath shakes. His cock twitches against your stomach. 

“Harder,” Jungkook mutters, his own breath quick, eyes never leaving yours. “For the last five. And faster.” 

Yoongi obeys. Your moans grow in volume with each spank, your bottom painted in faint red. Yoongi quickly pulls you up to face him, brushing your hair away from your face. 

“You liked that?” he asks in disbelief, eyes flicking between yours, looking for any hint of discomfort. 

You nod. “I need—” Him, you don’t say. You can’t. 

The rocking chair creaks. Jungkook walks towards you. You twist your body again to meet him halfway and he caresses your cheek, rewarding you. You go to turn your body wholly, but Jungkook stops you, holding you steady by the waist. While you still straddle Yoongi, knees on either side of his thigh, he gently prompts you to lift up your bum against him, arching your back, tits in Yoongi’s face. 

“Stay like this,” he whispers into the waterfall of your hair and as you rub your cheeks against his manhood slowly, he hums, pressing a deep kiss onto your scalp. “Hold onto his shoulders.” 

You do as he says. As if Yoongi knows something you don’t, he latches his hands onto the back of your knees, clamping you down on the mattress. 

The first spank causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, pain so acute striking your body like flashes of lightning. And unlike Yoongi, Jungkook doesn’t stop. He keeps spanking you, each hit harder and more painful than the one before and you lose count of how many you’ve taken. You grip Yoongi’s good shoulder with all your might, wrapping your other hand around his neck. 

You like the pain. You like the pain so much that you stay still. And because of that, Jungkook tilts your chin so you can look at him, coming to your side and propping a knee on the mattress. You see amusement and amazement swimming in his eyes when you finally open yours, dazed. He smiles at you, softly and tenderly. And you pucker your lips at him, asking for a kiss. 

Jungkook willingly obliges. Gives you a deep peck full of meaning that you don’t know the language of yet—and it sinks down your body, makes a bed there. The coldness of his lip ring turns you whiny. Jungkook kisses you over and over again, just to hear your sounds. 

Yoongi is red when you glance down at him. He’s at loss for words and there’s a puzzling look to his face that you don’t want to decipher. 

“Five more,” Jungkook whispers, tracing the outline of your abused, sensitive ass. “Can you handle five more? You’ve taken it so well so far.” 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and the fact you asked for it makes both of the males still. Jungkook sneaks a hand between your legs and circles your hole, gathering your arousal, teasing you, finding you wetter than before. 

Yoongi begins to suck on your nipples. And when Jungkook finishes his punishment faster than you anticipated or even noticed, your bum burning, you could come like this—but you don’t. Jungkook sticks his tongue down your throat, does what Yoongi does on your nipple and you begin to tremble, making a mess on Yoongi’s thigh. 

As if pitying the abuse, Jungkook kneels before you and peppers gentle, wet kisses on the red flecks of your disobedience, making it right, healing it. Careful with his lip ring, careful not to suck on the skin. 

Then, he places a singular kiss on your clit, making you shiver. Stands to his feet. Walks over to his dresser. “Both of you lean back against the headboard. You against his chest. Keep her legs open, hyung.” 

You hiss at the change of positions, your cheeks hurting, even when Yoongi places a pillow underneath your butt. It worries him, your expression of pain and he tries to alleviate it by kissing you. There’s so much difference to the way he does it that it makes you emotional, drags you deeper into the madness of your hypnosis. 

“You enjoyed that?” Yoongi asks, knuckles brushing against the side of your face, as if he truly can’t believe you enjoyed the inflicting of pain. 

And you’d want it again, if your skin wasn’t so sore. 

“I loved it, Yoongi.” 

Shock flares in his eyes and you look away. 

Jungkook crawls upon the bed with a pink toy in his hand. A small egg with a small gap in the top half. You smile at him, excitement surging in you, and he reciprocates it. Lifts your leg to your shoulder and Yoongi holds it in place. 

“Butt hurts?” Jungkook asks, noticing the pillow, and you nod. “Good.” 

You laugh, softly. 

Placing a hand on your mound, covering it entirely, he brushes his thumb across your cunt, checking your arousal, spreading it on your clit. Doesn’t think there’s enough, which you find ridiculous, and he spits on her, making you moan. Turns the toy on. 

“Spit on her again,” you command, grinding your hips, feeling the trail go down to your hole. 

Jungkook smirks at you. “Filthy girl.” 

Bends to your cunt and spits at her again, tongue darting out to lightly keep the liquid love, where he wants it to be. And you mewl, welcoming his tongue on your clit, and you yearn for more, lifting your pelvis even though it hurts, but Jungkook withdraws. Places the toy on it, thumb clicking on the intensity, rising it, rising it high so much that you widen your eyes—

It sucks on your clit. 

You cry out, pleasure seizing you in its grasp and all you can do is close your eyes and feel it. It paralyzes you, takes your breath and—

“Look at me.” 

You can’t. 

“I know it feels good, but I’m not letting you have it until you look at me.” 

He takes the toy away. You grip his tattooed arm, opening your eyes. 

“Please, Jungkook—”

He doesn’t listen to your plea. Lifts your other leg. Doesn’t give it to Yoongi—keeps his hand there, nice and firm. Begins to concentrate on the back of your thigh, leaving behind wet marks of red and purple, tongue sliding on the skin before he sucks on it, keeping his eyes on you as he does it. You grab a hold of his hair. Soft, so silkily soft, short and healthy. You imagine the tiny petals on the weeping willow outside have the same softness. 

You’re spellbound. Jungkook places the toy back on your clit, pleasure flooding you—now more fervent and extreme, with his puffy lips still sucking your skin in tandem. And hearing your moans, Jungkook fires them back at you, setting your body ablaze. 

“That’s it. Keep looking at me,” he husks and Yoongi squeezes your other thigh, kissing your hair, reminding you he’s here with you. But he’s not the one who moans along with you. It’s Jungkook. Your eyes lid, but you try your hardest to keep them open, your feverish body swaying, the nearness of your orgasm at hand. “Yes, like that. I’m gonna make you come for me.” 

Letting go of your thigh, he sinks the two of his fingers inside your heat, gasping along with you. Stuffing you to the brim like he did before, he doesn’t have to fuck you fast to bring you over the edge. He moves the toy from side to side—and it’s the feeling of fullness, the twist of his features as if he was the one pleasured that makes you come all over his hand, the pillow and the bedding. 

It’s like being submerged under the water of the pond and you keep your eyes open the entire time, the endearment on his face and his attentiveness taking care of you, watching over you as he talks you through your orgasm. 

“Don’t hold back for me, yes, take it, baby. Good, so good, I know,” he says it in such undertones that you sob, emotions rushing out along with your release, trickling out of your tear ducts. You feel so safe and so well taken care of, so content that you don’t shy away from your feelings. You let both males be witnesses to it. 

It’s Jungkook first, who reacts. Brows knitted, he wipes your tears away. And it’s him who decides to take a break. 

“Let’s eat lunch.”

Your focus is enveloped around him so tightly that you don’t even know how your boyfriend reacted to your tears. You don’t feel him when he lets go of your leg and stands up to his feet to dress. It’s Jungkook who cleans you and checks the redness of your ass if there are any bruises. 

Yoongi doesn’t wait for you as he goes down the stairs. 

And it’s you who feels defeated now. And when Jungkook looks at you, he knows. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part one 

[sevsbestfriend]

I usually write fics here but I just wanna rant rn.

Sometimes I got to old posts and stuff, either to get new ideas or just see what the fuck is going on with the other side of the fandom.

The people coming to James defense or crazy, like on one hand they are like 'oh he was only human, he grew as a person otherwise how would lily love him?'

We literally have cannon confirmation that the fucking prat didn't stop hexing people, he just learned to hide it better. Sirius and Remus confirmed this when they called Severus a 'special case'. I don't give a shit about them saying he attacked first, you better believe I am attacking first if I come across a guy who has stripped me naked in public when I didn't do shit to him. (Or the other guy who tried to get me killed by bloody werewolf) Like wtf are you even talking about at that point???

Also, Harry comes across a detention report of them hexing another student in their 7th year. So uhm...yeah.

Then they are like 'oh Severus hates him so his memories are biased'

Did you morons even read the books?? Pensive memories are unbiased, any manipulation is extremely apparent as we saw in Slughorns case. So NO they aren't biased that extremely uncomfortable read of SWM? it's fucking canon in its truest sense.

Also, how in the ever living hippogryph does a guy who strips people naked for fun change so much that he becomes head boy??

It's pretty simple, he doesn't. He learns to hide it better and given the fact that this person has always been given the benefit of the doubt, it is very easy for them to their nature.

Dude had a map that showed him everyone's real time location and an invisibility cloak, he could damn well harass anyone in isolated corners of the castle if he wished. Which is exactly what he did.

Also, these people love to claim how 'lily only approved of him cause he changed.'

To that I say, Who the fuck is Lily?? Mother Teresa??

How is she the ultimate decider of what is good and bad and at the same time, completely right in dating someone who stripped another student makes after a year (or 2) of the event??

Don't get me wrong, she doesn't owe Severus anything, really, but seriously this is just ridiculous. Like if I was a woman, I would be genuinely terrified of someone like that, especially when they got away with no real consequences what so ever.

James was a prick with a very good PR team for friends and teachers. That's really it, it is often said that good looking people can get away with a lot of things and James is just a prime example of that.

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Also...BRAVE?? Dude had 2 cheat items and the advantage of a Pureblood upbringing and was still too PUSSY to face Severus alone. Yeah..what a real Gryphindor that one. Scrams bravery to you doesn't it? He did this all the way till 17, so yeah he definitely was super important in the order right??

---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_---_

Dumbledore invested quite a bit in the Marauders with his blatant favoritism and letting a werewolf in the school risking his own position as a headmaster.

And...they all turned to be bloody useless. With only James being useful because of his participation in the birth of Harry Potter.

Sirius in his madness derailed a murder investigation for a fucking decade.

Remus, I genuinely can't remember anything substantial Remus did, except for letting someone he believed was a murderer into Hogwarts and never telling Dumbledore that they were Animagus to begin with.

---_---_--_---_

Seriously, the most useful person in the war had to literally beg on his knees for the man to use him. Even fate was like, for fucks sake, just give this guy a chance already.

[saylor-twift]

“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

[cheollipop]

ginger & cinnamon tea

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.5k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, sick fic

after his roommate suggested a way to get rid of the sniffles, san – being the trusting friend he was – just had to try it.

warnings: praise, begging (so... much... begging), pussy-drunk! san, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (boooo!!! 👎🏻), multiple rounds/orgasms, multiple creampies, a sprinkle of overstimulation, a hint of anal (m receiving), one (1) chomp, san's stamina is through the roof in this one oof, perhaps a slight breeding kink bc why not, I think that's all-

A/N: here it is... my first smut fic (yes, its another sick fic. we won't speak about it)... I'm absolutely terrified posting this, but I really hope you all enjoy reading it! a special thanks to alyssa (aka @toxicccred <3) for entertaining my horny thoughts for literally hours yesterday. mwah ily lots.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

San's sneeze blasted through your phone's speaker, your body flinching back at the sound.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you watched his face sink deeper into his pillow.

"Does your head still hurt?"

He hummed. "It's not as bad. I think the painkillers have finally kicked in."

"What about your fever? Have Woo check it for you."

"(Y/n)."

"Have him make you some soup as well. With extra veggies-"

"Baby, calm down. It's just a cold," San chuckled, the sound coming out rough and gravelly.

You pouted, eyebrows furrowing, exhaling a long sigh. "I hate not being there for you when you're sick. This business trip wasn't even that important." You slumped back in your armchair, yet to change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

"You're coming back tomorrow," he reminded you, clearing his throat, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "You can give me all your love and attention then."

His words brought a smile to your lips. Perhaps it was also the two dimples you loved so much peeking out to greet you.

"No kisses, though."

His bottom lip jutted out. "I guess I'll settle for cuddles."

"Then I'll be sure to put my all into them," you promised.

You kept the call open while you went about your nighttime routine, telling San about your two-day business trip, and how your boss got too drunk and embarrassed himself over dinner. Sliding under the covers, your skin glowing with the fresh layer of skin care he had bought you for valentine's day, you rested your head on the pillow. Neither of you spoke, simply pretending that the other was an arm's reach away as your breaths slowly evened out, falling asleep to soft smiles and pretty dimples.

--

The door opened after a few seconds of you knocking, a large smile on the man's face greeting you.

"Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Woo.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you once before letting go. You spoke while you slipped your shoes off, "how's he doing?"

"He's a big boy, don't worry too much about him." Wooyoung walked with you as you made your way to San's room.

You breathed out a laugh. "You know I can't help it."

Wooyoung only smiled, ruffling your hair before disappearing into his room – the door adjacent to San's.

Peeking into San's room, your eyes instantly met with his. He was sitting up in bed, holding a tissue to his nose. You couldn't help the grin splitting your face, nearly hopping with excitement as you made your way towards him. San threw the tissue god-knows-where and held his arms open for you, wrapping them around your frame once you were close enough. You pressed your lips to his forehead, smacking a kiss onto the heated skin before sitting by his side and relaxing into his embrace.

"I've missed you, my love," San muttered against your hair, kissing your temple. His voice was hoarse, and you could tell he had a stuffy nose.

"Me too. So much," you inhaled his scent, hands running up and down his clothed back.

Wooyoung peeked his head back into the room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of you holding each other so close, he wasn't sure where you began and where San ended.

"Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to the gym for a few hours," he spoke, unsure if you could even hear him from how deeply molded into each other the two of you were.

San waved at him with one of the hands wrapped around your back, and you sent him off with a quiet "have fun."

Wooyoung hesitated at the door, peeking in once more, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk. "You know…"

You turned your head to look at the man, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to speak.

"They say some sweet lovemaking gets rid of colds prettyyy quick," he winked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could see San's ears turning a bright red – yet you weren't sure if that was Wooyoung’s doing or the cold's.

"Ya!" San grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Wooyoung ran away, effectively dodging the swarm of pillows being thrown at him, his squeaky giggles echoing in the apartment even after the front door clicked shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. Just ignore him," San pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you back into his chest.

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling your cheek against San's collarbone. "It's Wooyoung, I'm used to his antics by now."

"You're right," he grinned, laying down on his bed, taking you with him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Sannie?"

"Just let me hold you," he flexed his arms around you, squeezing you for a few seconds before relaxing again.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, your hand sliding under his shirt to settle against the soft skin of his hip.

You remained that way, limbs tangled up with his under the comforter, your cheek pressed to his chest as it rose and fell steadily. You felt his breath hitch, chest hiccuping as he cleared his throat repeatedly. You raised your head to meet his eyes, your hair disheveled and tangled from where his fingers had been running through it.

“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

His hand smoothed down your unkempt locks, cupping the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay,” he cleared his throat again.

You stifle a laugh at his attempt to hold back his cough. “Don’t hold it back, you idiot.”

He pouted, muttering under his breath, “such heartwarming words.” He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and coughed, the sound ripping through his chest. He winced, eyes shut tightly and the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, baby,” your fingers ran through his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving down to cup his cheek. San leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm, his skin heated against yours. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, taking your free hand in his and interlocking your fingers with his, giving them a tight squeeze.

“I’ll just be a moment,” you leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Just stay here, I don’t need any tea,” San touched his forehead to yours.

You kissed the tip of his nose, then placed another one on his cheekbone. “Yes you do.” Untangling yourself from him, you made your way to the kitchen, stopping at his bedroom door. “Just call out if you need me.”

You left the room, finally allowing yourself to laugh at the expression San was giving you – bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and pleading.

He was so cute, you thought, as you stared at the boiling water. Dropping a few pieces of ginger into the water, followed by a stick of cinnamon, you left them to boil on low heat for a few minutes. You turned the stove off before placing a tea bag into the kettle and watched as the liquid slowly darkened.

Pouring the steaming tea into his favourite mug, you walked back to his room.

You immediately noticed his restless shuffling under the thick blanket, his breathing heavy and labored, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim light from the small lap perched on his bedside.

"San?" You hurried to his side, setting the mug down by the lamp before placing your palm on his forehead, worried his fever might have returned. "Does anything hurt?"

"(Y/n), please…" He muttered, voice so breathy his words were barely coherent, still fidgeting under his blanket.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You began to push the blanket off him, allowing the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Your worry faded as soon as you pulled it off his torso, leaving it gathered at his knees. Your eyes traveled between his pants – pulled midway down his thighs – and his hand, wrapped around his hard length, his hips thrusting into his fist with vigor.

"S-san! What are you doing?" Your hands twitched at your sides, not knowing what to do, your eyes stuck on San's lower half. Arousal pooled between your legs, waves of heat surging through your body.

"Please, (Y/n)- ah," he whined. His fingers squeezed around his girth, the breathy moan that escaped his lips going straight to your core. "Please, help me. Wooyoung said-"

"Sannie, Wooyoung’s an idiot. You need to rest," your voice wavered, prying your eyes off San's middle to meet his eyes.

"Please… please, please, (Y/n)."

You were stuck battling between your morals and your arousal, rubbing your thighs together as you struggled to speak. But San was looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted heavily, hips never ceasing their movement. You eyed the bead of precum leaking from his tip – how his hand smeared it down his length with its relentless movement. With those flushed cheeks and whispered pleads – how could you ever say no?

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Ah, San. Fuck. Your mouth is so-," warm, you wanted to say before San ripped another moan out of you, your hand fisted in his hair as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man.

He slipped another finger alongside the two he had stuffed inside you, curling them to drag along your walls, pressing against the spot that made your back arch, your breathy moans egging him on.

"Taste so good," he nuzzled his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping down to lick up the wetness dripping out of you and around his fingers. His hips rutted against the sheets where he laid on his stomach, eyes fluterring shut as he breathed heavily against your folds, drunk off your arousal.

"Oh, God. San- hnngh," your hips jumped off the bed, your hand on the back of San's head helping you push him closer to your core. "I'm about to- ah, baby, you're making me feel so good."

San's fingers thrusted into you harder, encouraged by your praise, pressing against your sweet spot every time he pushed back in. His tongue was back on your clit, alternating between lapping at it and sucking it between his lips. Your back arched once more as waves of pleasure rushed through your body, your thighs shaking around San's face as he helped you ride out your high, his fingers deep inside you while his tongue worked to swallow everything you gave him.

Panting heavily, your eyes closed, trying to regain your breath. "Shit, San."

San climbed up your body, his chin dripping with his spit and your arousal. "Did that feel good?" He looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

“Yes, San, it was amazing,” you breathed out a laugh, jumping when the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit. San leaned closer, his chest pressed against yours, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Can I-" San pressed his lips against your skin, taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, the hand not holding him up wrapping around his cock again. He pumped himself a few times before running his tip along your folds, his precum mixing with the spit and arousal.

You tucked a few strands behind his ear, holding his cheek in your hand, smiling when he nuzzled into the touch. "Kiss me, Sannie."

San shook his head against your palm. "I don't want to get you sick."

You moved your hand to his nape, pulling his face closer to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling against the skin. "I think it's a little too late for that."

That was all it took for San to slam his lips against yours and moaning into your mouth, his teeth clashing against your front ones, desperately biting into your bottom lip.

"Let me have you, please, let me," he whispered against your lips, diving back in to suck your bitten bottom lip into his mouth.

You nodded, reaching down to take his length between your fingers – eliciting a sharp hiss from the man above you – and positioned him at your entrance, adjusting your position to take him more easily. San pushed forward, his tip breaching your tight hole, sliding more of his length inside you as his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue between his lips. He bottomed out inside you, pulling back to pant against your lips, his moans breathy and needy. Grinding his hips against yours, your eyes rolled back with a whispered fuck.

San pressed his forehead to yours, struggling to keep his eyes open while your walls squeezed around his length. "Is that okay, baby? God, you feel so good, I could cum right now."

"It feels so- so good, Sannie," you cupped his cheeks, one hand slipping down to his neck. "Just- please, move."

With his lips attached to your neck, he gave a few slow thrusts, the stretch of his cock between your walls almost overwhelming. You wrapped your arms around San's shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

"I need-" he panted against your skin, lips pressed to your cheek, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your face. San bent one of his knees, pressing it into the mattress by your hips, your thigh hooked over his. "I need more, please. Can I have more, please baby?"

San's eyes were teary as they stared into yours, pleading, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip, cock dragging against your walls.

Your hand slid down to his lower back, lips pressing against his jaw. "Take what you want, Sannie, I'm all yours."

Digging the knee by your hip into the mattress, San pushed his cock all the way inside you, rolling his hips until they were flush with yours, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. With a hand on the underside of your thigh, he bent it back until your knee rested under your armpit before he began to piston his hips, building a steady rhythm as he fucked the moans out of you. San’s lips pressed gentle kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck and bite at the flesh, leaving behind a trail of purple and blue bruises that you would scold him for later.

He breathed heavily against your skin, a mix of grunts and airy moans escaping his lips. “You’re so perfect, every last bit of you,” he took your nipple into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck before biting down on it, your body jolting under him.

“San – a-ahh – more, give me more.” Your whole body spasmed every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, his hand pushing your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even harder. “You feel so good, baby. So, so good.”

“Fuck. I’m not going to last,” he tongue made a trail up your cleavage to the hollow of your neck, moving to your face and slotting his lips against yours, running his tongue over your teeth.

Please, please, please, you repeated, unsure of what exactly you were asking for, San’s hips slamming so hard against yours it left your brain lagging. He brought the hand on your thigh down to your sopping folds, two fingers rubbing hastily at your swollen clit as he tried to bring you over the edge with him. Your walls clenched around his throbbing cock as a numbing wave of pleasure coursed through your body. San’s hips stuttered, managing a few more thrusts before stilling, cock pushed all the way inside your pulsing cunt as the familiar warmth of his cum took over your senses. A series of high-pitched moans escaped his lips as he emptied his load inside you.

He pulled out just enough to shoot the last rope of cum onto your mound, rubbing it through your folds with the tip of his cock, your legs closing in around his hips when he brushed against your clit.

He looked down at the mess he had made before sheathing himself back inside your cunt, pushing some of his cum out in the process.

“S-san!” Your hips jolted, trying to move away from him as you began to feel overstimulated.

“I’m sorry, please, just-” He rocked his hips into yours, his face tucked into your neck, his hot breath blowing against your skin. “I need more, (Y/n).”

Your thighs shook uncontrollably around him, the pleasure mixing with pain as your nerves went into overdrive. But San was looking at you with teary eyes, sniffing every other second as his nose started running. He looked so fucked out, hair disheveled and the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the dim light. He pushed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly, unable to stop himself as waves of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Please… just one more… please, baby, will you give it to me?” He pressed his lips to your cheek, then to your nose, and finally your mouth, placing short sweet kisses on your lips while he begged you for more.

When the tears welling up in his eyes – a mixture of his cold and the pleasure overwhelming his every sense – dampened his precious skin, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you, you knew you had lost this battle. Perhaps even the war, and everything in between.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sannie,” you whispered against his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thrusts picked up their pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing between the four walls.

Sliding his arms under you, he held you closer to him, your tits squeezing against his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, pushing directly against your g-spot with every thrust. San’s moans got louder – needier – as he pumped himself into you, desperately chasing his high.

“You’re taking me so well, my love – ahhh – fuck, (Y/n), every single inch,” he bit down on your shoulder, squeezing your waist so tight he was bound to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill you up with so much cum, it’ll be dripping out of you for days. You'll take all of it, won't you?”

His words made your walls clamp up on him, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy. “Please, Sannie, want your cum so bad – hnnngh,” your nails dragged over the soft skin of his back, your eyes rolling back when his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing at it desperately, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m- fuck, I’m so close.”

"My pretty baby," he slid his tongue over your parted lips. "So beautiful, letting me fuck my cum into her."

Your hand slid down his slick skin to squeeze at the firm flesh of his ass, making him groan into your neck. Slowly, your fingers made their way between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. San’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pounding his cock into you with fervor as you sunk the tip of your finger into his ass, feeling it clench around your digit. A familiar warmth surged through you as San pumped his cum into you, sliding his cock in and out of your abused cunt as ribbons of white painted your walls. He slowly stilled his hips and you felt his cock throbbing inside you, his cum fucked so deep into you, you feared no contraceptive could stop you from bearing his children. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours as he filled you up; his lips parted after a few seconds, the pleasure leaving him too fucked out to do anything but moan and groan into your mouth.

“(Y/n), baby, you feel so good... it won’t stop coming out,” he ground his hips into yours, feeling more of his cum filling you up, a stream of it leaking out and pooling on his sheets.

The tears in his eyes, the euphoric expression on his face, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your sensitive clit, the feeling of his cock buried so deep within you still shooting out ropes of cum – you weren’t sure what threw you off the edge, perhaps it was all of those factors combined. Your toes curled, and you could swear you saw stars, vision blurring as your body writhed under San’s, clawing at his back while he helped you ride out your high.

Your legs didn't stop spasming even after San plopped down on his side next to you, reaching out to brush your hair off your face, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the flushed skin. “Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Mmm, perfect.” You turned your body to face him, your knees shaking in the process – and San may or may not have smiled proudly at that. “You know, I would have hid your scarves a long time ago if I knew you could fuck like that.”

Your giggles vibrated between the walls as San attacked you, fingers prodding at your sides, limbs too heavy to fight him off your body.

--

Wooyoung peeked his head into the room, grimacing at the overbearing stuffiness. Looking around, he noticed the pile of clothes thrown into one corner, soiled towels tossed in the opposite direction. A pair of bodies slept soundly, tangled up together under the thick comforter, San's soft snores breaking through the stillness in the room.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, stifling a squeaky laugh as the realization hit him.

“Holy shit, they actually did it.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[incendiobrock]

Boston Blues {Matt Sturniolo}

Request: Linked here

Prompt(s): A showing up to B's doorstep, soaking from the rain + "Wait, don't go. Please..."

Warnings: mentions of emotional abuse (parents), language

You had always loved growing up in Boston. The colorful leaves on the trees in the fall, the fluffy, white snow in the winter, watching the flowers bloom in the spring, and relaxing by your friends pool in the summer. Every season in Boston had its perks, and sharing those memories with three of your neighbors made it that much sweeter.

When you were in middle school you had met three boys that lived down the street from you. You were waiting at the bus stop when they had arrived and introduced themselves as Nick, Matt, and Chris. The four of you instantly became inseparable and would spend every waking moment together, considering all you had to do was walk down the street and knock on their front door.

As the years went on the friendship grew, and a special spark had formed between you and Matt. Matt was your escape from reality, the anchor to your ship. Throughout your last couple years in high school there was a divide between your parents. They constantly argued into the late hours of the night, and somehow you were always brought into it. Your parents made it difficult to be home so you began to seek refuge in Matt.

Matt was the support system you needed to keep yourself from dwelling on the fact that you had such a strained relationship with your parents. You began catching feelings for the boy, which he had reciprocated. Things were untraditional in the relationship you had formed because your parents had made you lose the longing for a true relationship. They showed you that love doesn't always last and someone you love could easily become someone you hate, and that thought terrified you. Matt understood your anxieties, knowing about your home life, and let you take things at your own pace. There was no label, due to your fear of abandonment, but you were practically dating on every other level.

Now, you were both twenty years old, graduated from high school, and trying to begin figuring out adulthood. Matt and his brothers had started a YouTube channel that grew tremendously in popularity and brought in some extra pocket change. They all loved doing it, and you supported them the whole way. As you stood in their parents kitchen late one night they began discussing their future.

"I really wish we had our own space to make content. I love filming the car videos, but it would be nice to film content in a house without having to worry about disturbing mom and dad." Chris shared, taking a sip out of his Pepsi can.

"Yeah, I've been really thinking about LA ever since we've gone those few times to visit Madi." Nick added, agreeing with his brother that they would benefit from their own space. You stayed silent as you sat at the island, scared about the thought of losing your three closest friends. The chat that night was just a daydream the boys had, nothing set in stone until about a month later.

Matt paced his bedroom, dragging his feet lightly on the hardwood floors. He was waiting for you to come over so he could tell you some news that he knew would be difficult for you to hear. A light knock on his door pulled him out of his trance, "Come in!" He said. Slowly, you peeled open the door, spotting Matt standing at the foot of his bed. You smiled widely, walking over to him and initiating a hug. "Hi Matt," You said under your breath, instantly feeling lighter in his presence.

He felt himself gulp as you pulled back from the hug, you had no idea what was about to come. "Hey." He replied, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and patting the space next to him for you to sit. You complied, plopping down on his plush bed and throwing your legs over his lap as you faced towards him. His hands rested on your knees as he began to twirl the silver ring he wore on his index finger.

"Matt, what's wrong? You seem stressed?" Your hand reached out to take place on top of his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles soothingly. His eyes remained glued to his lap as he took in a shaky breath.

"Nick, Chris, and I are moving to LA... We bought a house over there and we will be moving in a couple weeks. I know this is really sudden but we didn't know the turn around would be so fast until our offer on the house got accepted." His eyes had finally met with yours, watching as your face fell into a frown.

"Oh-" Was all you managed to say back, now you were the one looking at your lap.

"I want you to come with me." He said, placing a hand on your shoulder which causes you to reconnect your eyes with his. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you repeated what he had said inside your head. You shook your head, letting out an exasperated chuckle, "You know I can't leave Boston."

"Why not? You're an adult for one, plus you hate being at your house with your parents." Matt countered.

"I know... But I don't have a steady income and I just can't." Your head was spinning, thinking about what he was asking you to do. Leave your whole life behind and move halfway across the country with him? What if he decided he hated you one day and you were stuck stranded out on the West coast?

"Come on y/n, you're being ridiculous. I will help you out, I love you so much I just want you to come with me, please." Matt begged.

You shot up off the bed, glaring at him as he watched in shock at your sudden movement. "I said I can't Matt! Don't try to force me to move halfway across the country with you!" You said, raising your voice and feeling your emotions begin to catch up to you. This wasn’t a simple request that he was asking you to fulfill, this was leaving behind everything you had ever known. Jumping straight into a pit of fire, burning you with your own insecurities of being too caught up in a relationship, leaving you vulnerable to being abandoned.

"I'm not trying to force you!-"

"Yes you are! I can’t just leave my whole life behind for you! Have fun with Nick and Chris... I'm not moving." And with that, you stormed out of his room making sure the door slammed behind you. You knew deep down that he was going to leave you eventually, you just didn't expect it to be today. This was exactly why you never made anything official between you two.

---

Two weeks had passed and you hadn't heard a single word from Matt. You spent a lot of time in your bed, unable to leave it. You hadn't felt hungry and your eyes were red from all the tears you had cried. The whole time you had been apart you reminisced on all the years you had spent with Matt and the other boys. You weren't sure you were ready to leave that all behind. Nick had messaged you a few times throughout the weeks, updating you on their move. Today was finally the dreaded day.

Rain tapped on your window as it steadily poured outside. It's like the world knew how depressed you had been, reflecting your own emotions with the weather forecast. The boys had to leave to go to the airport in a little less than two hours. The walls in your house were extremely thin, allowing you to hear your parents yelling from down the stairs. Did you really want to live here like this? A numbing headache pounded in your head as you listened to the screeching downstairs.

Without thinking you pulled a small suitcase out of the back corner of your closet. Necessities and a small amount of clothes began to pile in, only grabbing what you absolutely needed. You didn’t have time to think about your actions, knowing that your own fears were going to hold you back if you let them. If things didn’t work out then you would just figure out a new plan, or so you tried reminding yourself. After grabbing as much as you could fit into your suitcase you checked the time on your phone, 1:47pm… They would be leaving to get to the airport any minute now.

The wheels on your suitcase echoed as you dragged it down the hallway, leading to the stairs. You ran down them and into the living room, causing your parents to stop their fighting and look over at you. Shock caused your body to stop in place, wide eyes looking back at your parents as they both stood with their arms crossed over their chest, angry scowls on their face. “Where do you think you’re going?” Your dad’s voice boomed, surrounding the stagnant air. Doubt about your plan began rushing back, worried about how your parents were going to react when you told them you were leaving to move across the country with a boy that they hadn’t even met. Sure, they knew who Matt was, and they had seen him around, but you never introduced him.

You swallowed some saliva as you began to walk quickly towards the front door, trying to keep your head held high, “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain. I promise I’ll text you when I land!” By this point your hand was on the door knob and you were stepping out into the freezing cold rain.

“Land? What do you mean land?” Your mom yells, as you shut the front door and take off down the street, your suitcase rolling behind you. It was in moments like these you felt thankful that the triplets only lived down the street from your house. Rain drops pelted you in the face, soaking through your jeans and hoodie. From a distance you could see Nick, Matt, and Chris packing the trunk of the van with their belongings.

“Wait!” You yelled, causing them all to look up at you as your feet smacked against the wet, gravel road. Finally, you had reached their house. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath.

“Kid, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Chris asked, taking ahold of the handle of your suitcase and rolling it away from your body.

“Wait, don’t go… Please!” You got out, between some huffs of air.

“Our flight is at 2:45, we have to go y/n…” Matt said solemnly, feeling his heart break seeing you standing in front of him for the last time, covered in rain. You shook your head, taking a step closer to Matt and taking his hands into your own, “Not without me.” Tears formed in your eyes as you tried to choke back your emotion.

Matt’s hands immediately let go of yours as he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms over your shoulders. You accepted the hug, tightening your grip around his torso, snuggling your face into his chest. You didn’t think you would ever get to feel him hold again. You were thankful the trunk of the car was covering you both as the rain continued falling around you. “You’re coming with us?” He whispered, trying to convince himself that what you said was true. He felt your head nod, confirming his question and mending his breaking heart.

His hands found sanctuary on the sides of your face as he pulled your lips in for a rough kiss. You kissed him back with passion, thanking your mind for not holding you back from this moment. After the kiss, your foreheads rested against one another and a soft smile formed across your lips.

“I love you, Matt. Let’s go to LA.”

“I love you more… You have no idea how happy I am that you’re coming with me.”

[shinxeysartgallery]

J is kind of an asshole and I think we all realize that especially after what she did in Episode 8. Still think she's being hated on a bit too hard though.

She knowingly sided with Cyn, despite knowing what she was responsible for, and that's obviously not a good thing. However, do keep in mind that all of the affected Elliot Manor drones are just traumatized children at the end of the day. Cyn put all of them through immeasurable horrors. Even without Cyn's influence, the drones were treated horribly by the humans (other than Tessa). And based off the scratched-off armbands that we saw N, V, and J have that also match Cyn's armband, there's strong implications that all three of them are also "zombie drones" much like Cyn is herself. We don't know what they were subjected to before being tossed into the dump and later being found by Tessa.

As J and V are fighting, J makes an interesting comment that sheds some light on her motivations. "...It tricked me, too." Obviously, that was never elaborated on, but it strongly implies that she had made some sort of a deal with Cyn for an unknown reason. We got confirmation that V also had made a deal with Cyn, which was basically that she'd do whatever Cyn wanted as long as she wouldn't hurt N (and then would leave them both alone). Don't know if N also made a deal, but he's likely there as a part of V's deal.

So it makes me wonder, what exactly did Cyn promise J? Did she tell her that she could bring back Tessa? Promise to not let her die again? Something else entirely? Based on her comment to V, SOMETHING was definitely promised that ended up being a lie. Everyone reacts to trauma differently. Saw a post a while back (will hyperlink it later if I can find it again) by another user doing a very good breakdown of how they perceived the drones' personalities changed as a result of their trauma. N became a doormat because he kept getting hurt or hurting others every time he stood up for himself or someone else. (They also add that V's coldness towards him contributed to it and made him lose a lot of self-confidence.) V became rather cold because she was basically forced to turn off her emotions to cope with what she was doing. And she was purposefully mean to N to chase him away as an attempt to protect him from Cyn. J became a corporate bootlicker because she was terrified of being discarded again, so now she feels like she has to prove that she's useful.

And I think those theories all definitely hold some water here and help to explain why J still chose to side with Cyn, even after realizing that whatever their deal was was a lie. It's likely that she realized that if she decided to side against Cyn, Cyn would've just killed her straight-up. And that's really not out of the question, considering what she did to N and V once she realized that those two had asked too many questions and realized that she was the bad guy they wanted nothing to do with. If J had also gone against her, she'd just be replaced with either a clone that had its memories wiped (as evident by Cyn's comment to N in Episode 7: "your clones will forgive me") or a personality shift, or just flat-out a completely different drone altogether. There's also her comment towards V during their fight. "I promise it's better on the winning team.", which implies that J had full belief that Uzi wouldn't have been able to stop Cyn and Cyn was going to get her way no matter what. That paired up with the personality shift might imply that she felt trapped. Cyn preyed on her vulnerability and fears of being discarded and weaponized them against her. She believed that Cyn was going to win no matter what, and if she went against Cyn, she was going to be discarded again. Despite knowing she was tricked, she probably stays loyal to Cyn because she's terrified of that outcome. She doesn't want to die, she doesn't want to be thrown away again. But the only person she feels she can get that security from is the same one that basically caused all of her problems. That same person is practically the equivalent of a god in the universe and seemingly NOTHING can stop it. What choice does she have in that perspective?

I still feel like she's an incredibly tragic character. Horribly mistreated by humans, forced to watch (or participate in) her best friend's death at the hands of the one she despises the most, sees the same bestie be horribly mutilated and disfigured, be forced to commit horrible atrocities herself, and be manipulated and lied to. She deserves a redemption arc.

You're obviously allowed to still hate/dislike her, but that's just my thoughts on it!

[talaok]

An idea for pedro and reader

They are in a relationship and live together. The reader is also an actress. She asks pedro to practice her lines with her. In the play, she is having a really long line, breaking up with the person ans leaving them... pedro can't continue... at night in bed they are cuddling and pedro talks about how he hated the feeling or the thought of the reader ever leaving

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: ahh this is amazing how do you come up with stuff like this

"I know that face," he said, busting you immediately as you emerged from the bedroom.

He was sat on the couch, lazily half-reading something on his phone.

"what is it sweetheart?" he asked, as with a soft click, his phone went black

You bit back a smile "How do you know there is something?"

"Because you're very easy to read" he explained "Now tell me what you need"

"Excuse me? I'm not easy to read" you gasped

"No?" he asked rhetorically "Then what's up with the script in your hand?"

You glanced down at the papers between your fingers, feeling a soft veil of defeat land on top of you.

"Fine" you gave up, "Can you help with a scene?"

It wasn't unusual for you to run lines with each other, god only knows how many times he made you go through that scene from The Last of Us...

"of course" he nodded "What's it about?"

"Break up scene," you told him as you joined him on the sofa "I just feel like I'm missing something" 

"What?"

"well I don't know" you laughed "That's why you're here"

"All right," he said, as you handed him the script.

"You just have to read the ones not underlined" you pointed to the paper

"Can do" he smiled, watching as you stood from the couch and ran your hands soothingly down your jeans.

"ok" you breathed closing your eyes for a moment to get in character.

Pedro took it as his cue to start

"baby I love you" he murmured as written.

"And I-" you stopped, your forehead creasing as if your next words physically pained you "I... I don't know if I do anymore" you spoke "I don't think so"

"what are you saying?" Pedro read again, his tone more clipped now, but you were too focused on your performance to notice the way his eyes had changed, had... saddened.

"I'm saying I don't feel that spark anymore, that-that I miss walking faster when I come home because I know that's where you are, that I can't remember the last time my heart swelled like it did on our first date"

Three long beats passed, before Pedro realized that was his cue

Something was happening inside of him.

He knew this all was fake, but a part of him couldn't help but wander on its own... sure it's just a scene now, but it's so real, people fall out of love constantly, and you- well, Pedro realized for an interminable, terrifying moment, that you weren't immune to it, that what was happening to Jeff in this scene could very well happen to him any day now.

He had always known he didn't deserve you, that you were too much, too perfect, too good, too kind to be with him.

And for the first time in a while, a dreaded thought crossed his mind.

What happens when she realizes it?

"Rose" he called, pulling himself out of his own thoughts

"I know" you sniffled, your eyes filled with tears now "I'm sorry jeff-I really am- I don't know what happened, I don't know what's wrong with me, I just know... I just know I don't love you anymore... I can't bring myself to anymore"

And that was it.

Pedro had to glance out the window to take his mind off of whatever was happening.

"It's perfect" he said, after taking a lungful of air "There's nothing missing sweetheart, you nailed it"

"but" you stuttered "the scene is not done baby, there's still-"

"I know" he shook his head, closing the script.

He didn't want that thing in his hands anymore

"But trust me it's perfect, you don't need any more practice"

"a-are you sure?" you asked, wiping away a leftover tear  

"I am" he nodded "don't worry, you were incredible" he forced a smile "as always"

You grinned now "Oh well, if the Emmy nominee says so..." you considered, sitting back next to him "I guess I'm gonna have to believe you"

__ __ __

the rhythmic thumps of his heartbeat were the only sound you could hear from your place on the bed.

You were curled up against him, your head on his chest, and his fingers playing with your hair as his ability to emanate warmth better than any thermostat ever could, proved itself once again even on such a cold winter night.

"You've been quiet today" you finally spoke the thought that had been eating at you for hours.

He really had been.

When he didn't answer, you looked up at him, stopping drawing circles on his belly.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, wishing you could have had a clearer image of his face than the one the soft streetlamp from outside the window granted.

"No sweetheart, nothing's wrong," he said... but there was something in his tone that felt off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"You know, I'm not the only one who's easy to read..." you murmured gently, as your right hand went to stroke his pecs soothingly "You can tell me whatever it is, you know?"

A beat passed, and then two, as silence spread around the darkness of the room

"I know baby, it's just" he sighed "it's stupid"

"I'm sure it's not" you reassured him "and it's not like I haven't told you my fair share of stupid things" 

He let out a weak chuckle.

"c'mon" you urged sweetly

He looked at you for a moment, before finally making up his mind.

"it's just- " he breathed "the scene you wanted my help with..."

"what about it?" you asked, after he didn't finish the sentence.

"I-It made me think"

Oh shit, your heart faltered, was he about to break up with you?

"That that could happen in real life too, you know?" he swallowed thickly "that one day you could stop loving me"

Oh

"oh"

"and the thought of you leaving... of- of not having you by my side anymore... it just- I wouldn't know how to do it"

"Baby" you whispered, "what are you talking about?" 

"you're too good for me y/n, and I guess I'm just scared that one day you'll realize it and just... leave"

"stop" You placed a hand on his lips to silence his nonsense "Baby, that was just a scene from a play"

"Yeah but stuff like that happens"

"well not to us" you promised "You're stuck with me forever, pretty boy, whether you want it or not"

"but-"

"no" you stopped him "no but. Pedro I love you" you breathed "I love you so much it actually hurts sometimes. So no, I'm not leaving"

You could now hear his heartbeat even if your ear wasn't placed above it anymore.

he looked at you, really looked at you, and slowly you watched the doubts melt from his irids.

"thank you" he said simply, leaning closer to you "and baby…I love you more"

[jamil-s-wifey]

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

[missashketchum]

Vice Dorm Leaders and Ash’s Pokemon!

here we are, it’s the vice dorm leaders time to shine!

me when rook just rooks

FINALLY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS AND I FINALLY GOT THE INSPIRATION BOOST TO FINISH IT DIUSGFCUJKSD (doesn't include Ruggie since he's not a vice dorm leader)

Trey- Noctowl

Out of all the students, if Ash couldn't take Noctowl anywhere with her, he would rather stay with Trey over anyone else

The two just vibe together, being rather calm within the chaos of their respective places

Noctowl is also very helpful with his psychic moves

There's really not much to say about these two, they enjoy each other's company

Jade- Buizel

Buizel’s a smart cookie, so at first, he doesn't even glance at Jade

It wasn't until Buizel began getting interested in Twisted Wonderland and began picking random plants that Jade garnered his attention

Imagine this, Buizel's picking some flowers and mushrooms and stuff to show off to the others when Jade approaches them

And Jade is curious about what Buizel has, and he wants them

Eventually, after a lot of charades, they made a deal

Buizel gets plants and stuff for Jade's terrariums, and Buizel gets the terrariums in return

Cue Ash being hella confused as to where Buizel's getting all these terrariums from lmao

They're chill, but one wrong move and Buizel's using Ice Aqua Jet on his ass lmao

Jamil- Heracross

hahaha F E A R

The first time Jamil saw Heracross, he was terrified, mainly because he fought the bug while Overblot

And the idea that this bug can fight and toss him like a sack of potatoes made him very uncomfy

Heracross actually hates Jamil in the beginning and actively went out of its way to scare him

But that eventually evolved into Heracross scaring Jamil because he thought his reactions were funny

Jamil is having a BadTime™

And see the gif? Heracross would do that SPECIFICALLY TO FREAK HIM OUT XD

Rook- Glalie

i know this one seems a bit random but i put Unfezant with Vil AND Rook so i had to change it lmao

Rook is very curious about Ash's Pokemon, but for some reason, Ash's Pokemon are always on alert when he's around

Glalie is as cheerful and curious as his is protective, however

The Ice-type is one of the first of her 'Mons to approach the hunter

And despite his funky looks, Rook is smitten with him, finding him rather cute, in it's own little way

Is entraptured by Glalie's ice attacks, and is constantly singing his praises, which both embarrasses and makes him huff in pride

So Rook is... okay in Glalie's book, but the others? He still has a lot of work to do...

Lilia- Noivern

Noivern! The baby!!!!

Despite his large stature and intimidating aura, Ash's Noivern is still technically a baby

And Lilia, if given the chance, would absolutely SPOIL HIM ROTTEN

Just... don't let him get close to Noivern with his concoctions...

Wait...

NOIVERN LIKES IT?!?!?!?!?

Noivern is the ONLY creature that can and is willing to eat Lilia's food and keep it down

Baby is indestructible

Also likes Lilia's taste in heavy metal music and would sometimes join in on the jam sessions the Light Music Club has

[anotherfloridaman]

Your orc is ruthless. (pt1)

That’s the first thing you think when you see his massive fist slam into one of his brother’s faces. The other orc muttered something about your hair in orc language, and your own whirled around and promptly knocked him on his ass. You didnt get to see if the other orc was okay before you were picked up and slung over his shoulder, walking away like nothing happened.

“Rico.” You mutter, sighing from the feeling of his hand on your legs, holding you like you’d be taken from him.

“Yes?” He acts innocent, but smirks as you climb up, sitting on his shoulder and softy gripping his braid. “What was that about?” The question is slow, like asking a child what happened to make them cry.

“He didnt like your hair, and i didnt like his face.” Rico smirks as you lean on his head, almost hugging the cranium to your side. “I’ve gotta know, ill find out soon enough.”

“No, you wont.” Rico sounds… serious. Your orc never sounds like this, not to you. Not so scary. Not like a threat. “What happened.” Its not a question, you demand to know as Rico stops walking, harshly setting you on your feet and gripping your shirt. “Dont worry about it.” He snarls in your face, and you guess you look afraid as he slowly lets you go, ears pressing to his head and backing up like he struck you.

“Rico. Tell me what he said.” You say, soft. And Rico finally snaps.

“Why? So you can change yourself again? So you can try to make them happy even when they will say everything you do is still wrong? So you can keep crying when you think you’re alone in the woods? So you hate another thing about yourself that makes you, you?” Rico rants, and his shoulders fall. He looks defeated as he turns away, rubbing his head.

You have changed yourself. Someone said in common language that you werent very strong, and you tried to push yourself into growing muscles. You had to stop using your left hand because of a pulled muscle. Someone said your clothes seemed too clean, and you didn’t wash them as much, but ended up with rashes from the dirty fabric later on. Someone said your hands were too small, your hair seemed too short, your feet shouldnt be covered, you shouldnt be there, you shouldnt, you should, and-

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, Rico’s blurry face in your field of vision having you realise just how close to crying you really were. He sighs, apparently coming to terms with himself and slowly leading you to the stonghold gates.

“R-rico?” You asked, as if he would be the answer to everything in life. But he continued pushing you, until you were just far enough for him to grab the gate and pull on it. “Rico.” You started breathing heavier, a cold panic setting in as he gently led you just beyond the stronghold gate. “Rico!” He shuts the large gate, and you pound on it, yanking the handle and trying to climb the wooden door without leverage. Your fingertips ache with the way you claw the heavy doors, and your throat becomes hoarse after a few hours of standing there, fighting an unbeatable foe, knowing the gate doesnt have locks, it’s just heavy.

But it seems like you blink, and the darkness of night washes over you, and you look around at the forest, terrified of what could be out here. What you know is out here. Predators and Hunters. Humans. Humans are out here, and you’re afraid. You’re more afraid of your kind than what the orcs in those walls would ever do to you.

You take off running, not having a clue that Rico was laying against the gates, softly crying as he listened to every plea and scream, begging to have another chance to something you never messed up.

Almost every orc is located in the stronghold center, drinking and laughing as they roughouse, unknowing what Rico or you just went through.

[everythingharrypotterblog]

charmed [16]: 'cat, rat, dog, and dove' (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: WELCOME BACK TO CHARMED. WE ARE HERE. we have arrived to this moment. BUCKLE THE FUCKING FUCK UP.

brief summary: the year has culminated into this one fateful night at the shrieking shack. word count: 9k

series summary: if you're here, u know what this series is abt im not gonna waste space and recopy it here THIS CHAPTER IS ALREADY TOO LOADED.

series masterlist here

join taglist here

16.

The sun was out. Its rays peeking through the leaves of trees, their heat was much stronger in this month of spring than it was in autumn, when Y/N and Remus took their first early morning walk to escape from the Castle. It became a habit they maintained all school year, and it was so hard to believe that they had already walked their way to final examinations season. Two terms had rolled by, laying down all the tiles needed to strengthen their relationship even more.

Y/N’s arm was around Remus’ bicep. It was warm enough now for them to abandon their jackets, and they strolled through the Castle grounds in simple button-ups.

Remus peeked down at Y/N, who by reflex caught his eye. He shut an eye tightly in an exaggerated wink. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his arm for a second.

“Can’t wait for our kid to experience all that is Hogwarts.” Remus said.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together as she beamed up at him.

“Rem…”

Their chests burned from elation as they continued in their stride.

“Thinking a bit ahead though, don’t you think, we’ve got more than 11 years before we get to that point.” Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, you’re right. Before that, it’ll be you n’ me teaching them.”

“I agree with you. Sending them to Muggle primary school seems way too risky for exposure.”

“I do worry about socialization though.”

“Hmm. Me too. We should probably get in touch with other wizard families that have children the same age as ours.”

They came to a small halt as they overlooked the train tracks.

“I can’t wait for our kid to get on the train for the first time.” Y/N sighed.

Remus patted her hand in his. “What did you feel your first time on it?”

“Terrified.” Y/N chortled. “I was anxious even as a child. You?”

“Me too. But I guess, something really deep inside me- I don’t know. I just felt like my life was going to change, I guess.”

Y/N smiled softly at the gentle man before her.

“And we have to take that train really soon again.”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy.”

They continued walking, the castle of Hogwarts standing tall against them, hovering and watching over them as it has done for so long.

+

As the year continued to draw to a close, the exam season proceeded on. Today were the Charms finals for the 3rd-years, as well as the 5th-years’ OWL’s. Even the Weasley twins had been spotted with their books open, working in a corner of the library.

Y/N downed the last of her tea, as she rifled through a pack of fresh grading sheets. She waved her wand, and yesterday’s 2nd-year evaluations floated upwards, inserted themselves neatly in a folder, and slid themselves into her briefcase.

She clapped her hands together and got up to the door, opening it to a crowd of her 3rd-years. 

“Ready?”

She let them trickle in and take their seats at the individually separated desks. Walking through the aisles, she placed an exam sheet on each one facing down.

“Alright, everyone, please get your things straight and then leave your bags up here in the front. Remember, you’re only allowed your quills for the written part.”

“You guys have one hour. Don’t forget to check both sides of the paper. Time starts… now.”

A synchronized whoosh of 30 papers being flipped over echoed across the room, followed by the etching of quills.

Y/N hated the written exams. She had nothing to do but to count the tiles in the classroom and twiddle her thumbs.

She was on her 5th recount of how many tiles spanned from one wall to another when a figure flashed in her peripheral.

Remus had passed by and judging the complete silence, assumed Y/N was sitting an exam. He waved cheerily, happy he had opted for practical examinations. Y/N rolled her eyes when she spotted him. Remus turned back around and passed the classroom door again.

“STOP.” Y/N mouth silently, gesturing to her students.

A few of them looked up and laughed, leading to a few more turning their heads.

“Enough.” Y/N shook her head, waving her wand and the door slammed shut, Remus disappearing from their sights.

“Professor Lupin’s just gloating that all his finals are over.” Y/N hushed the group. “Now get on, I’m not giving you extra time.”

She winked at the end, and the students returned to their scrolls, the atmosphere in the classroom noticeably lighter.

+

Light filled the room as Y/N clicked the lamp open. She turned to her side to find Remus wide awake as well.

“Can’t sleep?” She muttered.

“Nope.”

Y/N huffed, stacking her pillows and coming up to a seated position.

“It’s the full moon soon. How are you feeling?”

“The usual.” Remus yawned, turning on his side. He examined the grey circles under Y/N’s eyes through his wrinkle-decorated own. “I just feel a bit weird.”

“Hm.” Y/N responded. “Me too.”

“We’re probably just tired from so many back to back exams and all the grading.”

“Yeah. And my heart is kind of hurting. I just can’t really believe this year is ending. This has been the best job I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

Remus slid his hand under the covers to find hers.

“All good things must come to an end, my love.”

Y/N smiled sadly.

“What are the odds Flitwick needs another year off, eh?”

Remus chuckled.

Y/N clicked the lamp off and the two laid back in once again total darkness. Outside their window, roamed the creatures of the night. Centaurs, unicorns trudging across the Forbidden Forest, Dementors floating outside the Castle perimeter, and strolling stealthily in the Hogsmeade village; a ginger cat and its newfound friend, a big shaggy black dog.

+

Remus strolled along on his daily walk of the Castle grounds. Y/N had opted to stay in bed well into the afternoon that day, feeling more tired than usual.

He found a tree stump near Hagrid’s Hut and installed himself comfortably under it. He pulled a book from the pocket of his robes and opened it to the page he had last marked. About three quarters of an hour passed when he noticed Harry, Hermione and Ron come down and go into Hagrid’s. He returned to his book.

A small while later, he noticed more figures make their way to that direction.  One sported a bowler hat, which he recognized as the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, and two wizards followed him. One of them had a shiny axe attached to his belt, which glistened when it caught the sun.

Comprehension dawned upon Remus. He had heard of Hagrid’s Hippogriff case with Malfoy and the Ministry, and Y/N had told him in passing of the Harry and his friends’ interest in the outcome.

They emerged from the hut and crossed paths with the men. Remus closed his book. Those three better not involve themselves any further with the case, he thought. He didn’t want them to be exposed to the execution.

+

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE 

MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANTS AID, GREATER AND 

MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OU... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER.... 

Harry dropped the crystal ball he was supposed to return to Professor Trelawney and ran.

Thus began a very fateful night.

+

Remus walked through the Castle that evening and felt a weird shift in the air. Exams were over sure, but there was a certain trio that seemed the opposite of celebratory. Making his way down to the Great Hall, he took a seat next to Professor Sprout.

“Evening, Lupin.” She said happily.

“Good evening, Professor.” He responded kindly.

“Y/N coming soon?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not sure, she’s taking a nap now. She’s been awfully tired this past week.”

“That’s okay, classic end-of-year burnout” she replied, then proceeded to ask him how if he had finished all his grading.

Remus conversed with her a bit distractedly as he watched over the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were visibly pre-occupied and were huddled away from the other students, discussing seriously.

“Have you heard from Hagrid? Poor thing, his Hippogriff’s been sentenced to death today. It’s going to happen tonight, any minute now actually I think.”

Remus turned to face her. “Really? That’s horrible…”

Professor Sprout pursed her lips in agreement before taking another bite of chicken.

Remus looked over at the trio again. They were standing up hastily, walking out of the Hall with quick little steps. He frowned. What were they up to?

He took the time to finish his dinner calmly and bid the fellow staff goodbye. Making his way back into his office, he pulled out his things quietly as the bedroom door was still shut; Y/N was probably still asleep.

He took a seat at his desk and pulled out what looked like an old used piece of parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The map opened and unfolded as traces of ink bled upon its pages, forming its intricate content. He scanned it quickly, before turning his attention to Hagrid’s Hut. Hagrid’s dot was there, along with Dumbledore’s and other names he assumed were Ministry officials.

Running along the path to his Hut, he stopped at the two dots moving right under the Whomping Willow. It was Harry and Hermione. Where was Ron? What were they doing by that tree?

A thought popped in his head and his stomach sank. He moved up the map, praying to God that his far-fetched conjecture wouldn’t be true. Landing on Hogsmeade Village, he looked for the Shrieking Shack. The weight in his stomach sank even further. Ron’s dot was there, accompanied by none other than… Sirius Black.

His hands shook. He had to go help him. But as he watched the dots move, a third one came into view.

It was labelled “Peter Pettigrew”.

At that second, the blood had left Remus’ face. His hands grew cold. He shook the paper. He rapped his wand at it. He blinked and blinked again. The dot was still there, labelled with that name as clear as day.

In that very moment, a 13 year-old puzzle just came together with this one final piece. The web wove itself to completion. He understood… Stuffing his wand in his pocket, he jumped out of his chair and sped out the door.

+

In the Shrieking Shack, blood pressures were high.

Ron lay in the corner, with his weight off his broken leg, clutching his rat Scabbers. Hermione stood in the corner, quiet and pale.

Harry was fuming, frozen with his wand lifted and pointed to a ghastly, ghost-like Sirius Black.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered. 

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding. 

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. 

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes. 

"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story." 

"The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know." 

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't.... You don't understand...." 

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that... you did it...." 

Crookshanks jumped in between the two and sat itself at Black’s feet, looking back at Harry with deep yellow eyes.

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent. 

And then came a new sound - 

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor — someone was moving downstairs. 

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!" 

Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. 

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted. 

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest. 

+

Y/N woke up to a dark room. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her entire face felt scorching hot and her mouth was dry like she hadn’t drank in days. She rolled over in the bed. She had crawled under her blankets in the evening before dinner for a quick nap, but judging by the chill and dark air outside, she must have slept into early night.

She felt a tightness in her pelvic area, like cramps. She placed a hand on her abdomen.

Pulling herself out of bed lazily, she head to the bathroom. Her period was supposed to start a few days ago, so this must’ve been it. However, as she sat down on the toilet, there was nothing.

Suddenly, a realization jolted her mind awake.

She ran back to the bedroom, rummaging through her drawer for a pregnancy test. She went back to the bathroom and waited for the result.

Positive.

She put down the test swiftly, looking away as she felt her heartbeat quicken. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Slowly, she picked up the stick and read the result once more.

Holy shit.

She looked around her and it occurred to her that Remus was nowhere to be found. She checked the clock. It was well past 10pm. 

Where the hell was he?

+

"Where is he, Sirius?" 

Remus spoke in a tense voice, cutting through the weighted silence that took over the Shrieking Shack.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. 

Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered. 

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" -- Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "-- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?" 

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. 

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on --?" 

But Harry wasn’t able to finish his sentence, as what followed knocked the wind from his throat.

Remus lowered his wand. He walked to Sirius’ side, seized his hand confidently and pulled him to his feet. He gazed deeply into his eyes for a second, before the two men pulled each other into a deep embrace.

“I don’t believe it—“ Remus gasped, voice muffled.

“God, it’s been so long,” Sirius muttered back, “my friend.”

"DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed. 

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You -- you --" 

"Hermione —"

“— you and him!" 

"Hermione, calm down —" 

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —" 

"Hermione, listen to me, please'" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —" 

Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. 

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!" 

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain...." 

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- he's a werewolf!" 

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. 

+

Where the hell was he?

Y/N’s head was spinning as too much was happening at the same time. She glanced around hurriedly for signs of Remus, then remembered she was clutching the positive pregnancy test and looked back at the positive result, then saw the Marauder’s Map was splayed across the desk, still open.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She stuffed the test in her pocket then headed towards his desk. She’d be able to find where Remus was on the map, then would go back to sleep.

It took a while for her eyes to scan the entire Castle for his name, to no avail. Where the hell was he? Surely he was not outside… It then dawned on her that tonight was the full moon.

Shit. 

She looked over to the Shrieking Shack and nothing could have prepared her to see what she saw. Not one, but six dots. One was Remus, but he was accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as…

Y/N felt her heart freeze. Sirius Black? And… Peter… Pettigrew?

None of this felt possible. It couldn’t be. Grabbing her wand, she rushed out the office.

With this new information, the full moon had completely been replaced in her mind. Unfortunately, the only one who did seem to still remember was a certain Potions professor, on his way up to their office right now, where the map laid wide open.

+

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Remus said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead.”  An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." 

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!" 

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?" 

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..." 

"He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant.... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?" 

"Both," Hermione said quietly. 

Lupin forced a laugh. 

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione." 

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!" 

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do." 

“The staff? Does Professor Y/L/N know?” Ron gasped.

Sirius let out a howl of genuine laughter. “Professor Y/L/N!” He cackled. 

Remus scratched the back of his head, suddenly slightly bashful. “Professor Y/L/N and I… have been married for over 10 years.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped.

Silence fell over the room once again, as Remus stood there not knowing what to say next and Sirius standing by his side with his arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.

“Well, we knew that!” Hermione exclaimed, finally. “That was more obvious than the werewolf thing! The whole school talks about it—“

She was interrupted as a new set of footsteps echoed from the staircase. The kids froze as Remus and Sirius turned to face the door, wands at the ready.

In burst Y/N, as if right on cue in a play. She was flushed and was panting, it appeared she had ran the whole way there. 

“Remus!” She cried out upon seeing him. “YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO—“ She took a step forward until she spotted his company, and slowly took the step back. “What…” She murmured shakily, “is happening here?”

“Professor Y/L/N.” Hermione gasped softly.

Her eyes hovered over Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were in shock to see their Charms Professor, before landing upon Sirius. Something unrecognizable flashed across her gaze. She couldn’t believe what, or whom, she was seeing. She had thought the map made a mistake.

Y/N didn’t hear her. “Siri…?” she whispered, fixated on the man in front of her.

That’s when Harry lost it.

“‘SIRI?’ I TRUSTED YOU TOO! SO THIS WHOLE TIME -BOTH- OF YOU HAVE BEEN HELPING HIM?”

Y/N jumped from the sudden outburst and Remus came by her side to put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Remus, you better explain and you better explain quick.” She said tensely.

“We have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —" 

He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned. 

“There”, said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?" 

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?" 

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —“

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously. 

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school." 

"You wrote —?" 

Y/N caught Harry’s eye and gave him a confirming nod.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?” 

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. 

"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry--" 

"How d'you know about the cloak?" 

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it...," said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else." 

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!" 

I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?" 

"No one was with us!" said Harry. 

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black.... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily. 

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you.”

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?" 

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?" 

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise. 

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers. 

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. 

"What's my rat got to do with anything?" 

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard.”

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew." 

"You're both mental.”

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly. 

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively. 

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me... not this time, though!" 

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg. 

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain --" 

"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. 

Y/N joined and stepped in front of Sirius. “Sirius, please!” She put both hands on his shoulders, causing him to flinch. Her voice was shaking. “They deserve to know the full picture.”

Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, ad bleeding hands. “Fine. But make it quick. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”

"You're nutters, all three of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off." 

“Ron.” Y/N said sternly. “Sit down. I’m not joking, you’re going to listen.”

Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. 

"But Professor Lupin... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't..." 

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows. 

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list." 

Lupin and Y/N laughed.

"Light again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts." 

Y/N cleared her throat.

“Sorry, four Animagi. Although we didn’t really know back then about you, my love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Still, wanted to make sure you got the number right.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wider if it was even possible. “Professor Y/L/N, you’re an Animagus too?!”

Y/N nodded and gestured to Remus to proceed.

"All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, I only know how it began..." 

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing. 

"No one there…"

"This place is haunted!" said Ron. 

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted.... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." 

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..." 

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently. 

"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. “

Hermione noticed a hint of sadness as she watched Y/N listen to her husband’s story.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school...." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came 

to Hogwarts. This house" -- Lupin looked miserably around the room, -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous." 

"My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor.... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...." 

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter." 

Y/N sniffed.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth...." 

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times 

of my life. They became Animagi." 

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded. 

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will." 

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. 

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the 

Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them." 

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face. 

Y/N bit her lip as she dared to watch her old friend. She wanted to go touch him, comfort him, after so long… but she remained frozen on the spot as Remus continued.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did.... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs." 

"What sort of animal --?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. 

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?" 

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness." 

I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..." 

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me... and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along." 

“Don’t put it all on yourself,” Y/N said grimly. “The blame’s to share. We both decided to not go to Dumbledore.”

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?" 

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore A year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly 

killed him, a trick which involved me —" Black made a derisive noise. Y/N shushed him.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t go defending him now—“ Sirius chuckled.

“I’m not! I’m just— Rem, continue the story.” She said, crossing her arms defensively.

The two exchanged looks between each other, a bit of playfulness coming from Sirius’ end whereas Y/N still looked conflicted about being in his presence.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we -- er -- didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be -- er -- amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it -- if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf -- but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was...." 

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?" 

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. 

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin. 

Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock. 

Y/N gasped and clutched her stomach. Black slowly grabbed her shoulders and placed himself in front of her protectively.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you...." 

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight." 

"Severus --" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. 

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout — and you too Y/L/N. Here you are helping him out, a real criminal couple you two are…”

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry --" 

"Three more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “Though I do feel bad for you, Y/L/N, you never should have gotten involved… in the first place…I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this.... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf —" 

“Don’t - you - fucking - dare—“ Y/N said through gritted teeth, wanting to lunge forward to strike Snape, but Sirius and Remus caught her arms, holding her back.

“How sweet.” Snape said sardonically.

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" 

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. Y/N screamed, throwing herself down to check on him. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. 

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." 

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred. 

Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape -- it it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w -- would it?" 

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue." 

Y/N whipped her head around, hearing the way Snape was beginning to speak to Hermione.

"But if -- if there was a mistake --" 

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. 

“ENOUGH!” Y/N jumped up, pulling her wand out and pointing it straight at Snape. “Hermione, get back.”

“Step aside, Y/L/N. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He grunted.

“I said, get back, all three of you.” Y/N snapped, Harry and Hermione hurrying and backing up to where Ron laid.

“Severus, I’m serious, you need to hear them out.” Y/N said. Her voice was steely. She moved out from behind Sirius and inched her way closer to Snape, softly but steadily like a cat.

Snape ignored her. Remus struggled against his binds, his eyes not leaving Y/N. But deep down, he knew he didn’t have to worry. He had seen her fight during the first Wizarding War, and he knew how much more powerful of a witch she had grown into. Snape unfortunately, did not, as he returned his attention to Sirius.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you...." 

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" -- he jerked his head at Ron -- "I'll come quietly...." 

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black... pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay... I --" 

What little color there was in Blacks face left it. 

"You -you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat -- look at the rat --" 

But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that had never been seen before. He seemed beyond reason. 

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too —" 

“Severus.” Y/N warned, wand still at the ready.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door. 

“Harry!” Y/N cried.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin --" 

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?" 

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. 

"Get out of the way, Potter." 

"YOURE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN --" 

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too 

arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black -- now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!" 

“Okay, I said ENOUGH!” Y/N raised her voice. 

With a wave of her wand, the floor tiles under Harry’s feet rolled upwards in a wave, and sent Harry tumbling back to the back of the room where Ron and Hermione were.

“Snape, I told you to listen,” She said, advancing on him with her wand. “I told you, I don’t want to have to do this. But you have clearly lost your mind.”

Snape turned to face her. His dark eyes darkened even more. “And I told you, to get out of my way.a What are you possibly saying, Professor Y/L/N, you really think I’m going to duel you?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Why, you scared you gonna lose?” She said in a volume just above a whisper.

Snape jerked his wand and a spell flew at her, she whipped her own wand and deflected it. It bounced to the wall and knocked an old painting down.

With her empty hand, Y/N reached out to the trio and conjured a sort of bubble around Ron, Harry and Hermione. It was a protection spell.

Remus screamed in muffled yells as his mouth was gagged, and Sirius tried to free him but to no avail, there was no untying magical ties without a wand.

Y/N’s chest was heaving as she felt her heartbeat quicken.

A rapidfire of spells followed, bouncing between the two like fireworks. Y/N waved her wand, deflecting those Snape sent at her, conjuring out some of her own in the milliseconds in between. 

Snakes shot out of Snape’s wand, flying toward Y/N. She waved her wand and they turned into pink satin ribbons, falling through the air. She flicked her wand one, two, three different motions and jets of orange, red and purple shot toward him. He deflected two of them and managed to physically dodge the third. Snape rose his hands and a ring of fire encircled Y/N.

Remus let out another muffled yell, struggling terribly against his restraints.

“Don’t-“ Y/N muttered through gritted teeth as she began to make effortful circles with both her wand and her non-dominant hand. The others watched in terror. “Piss - me - OFF—“

The molecules of water vapor surrounding her had liquefied and splashed down onto the floor to put out the flames. “The shack’s made out of fucking wood, Snape, you want us all to DIE?”

She raised her wand high above her head, the water getting picked off the floor and she pushed the wave into him. It slammed his body into the wall behind him and with another wave of her wand, the water froze; trapping him there, suspended. 

Remus watched from the ground in awe. He had forgotten how powerful Y/N had become and it was magnificent to witness.

Snape’s head had knocked back and it drooped down, hanging from his neck. He had been knocked unconscious.

Sirius found Remus’ wand and untied him.

Y/N took a deep breath and lowered her wand. She waved her hand, and the protective barrier in front of the trio disappeared. Remus jumped to his feet and rushed to her, capturing her in a soulful hug.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He said, taking her face in his two hands, searching and scanning for signs of distress.

“I’m good, I swear.” She said, steadying her breath.

After what seemed like forever, finally Remus let her go. They immediately turned back around to heightened squeaking noises, coming from a very distressed Scabbers, still stuck in Ron’s tight clutch.

“Professor Y/L/N…” Hermione began. 

“That was amazing.” Ron breathed.

“How you used the Freezing charm to- to- Oh God, Professor Snape.” Hermione gasped once she saw what state he was in.

“This still doesn’t mean I believe you.” Harry said firmly.

Y/N, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Then it’s time we gave you proof.” Remus said, advancing.

“Ron, give us the rat.”