#I'm sure ill come with a name for this at some point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chiumii · 1 month ago

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church ~ enha x reader

enhypen members as different chase atlantic's - 'church' lyrics !

enhypen x reader | smut , angst , cheating , fwb , sneaky link , daddy kink , pet names , cum eating , oral , praise , orgasm denial , over stimulation , more , not proof read , spelling mistakes to be expected , blah blah blah enjoy

LEE HEESEUNG ---- ♡

"you're wearing nothing but my tshirt - call me shallow but i'm only getting deeper"

seeing you clad in his shirt would normally make heeseung beyond happy . he's possessive - he absolutely loves it when you wear his clothes and he finds every opportunity to make sure everyone knows you're his - but this is definitely not one of those moments where he want's everyone to know such information

the way you hum some random song under you're breath while prancing around the kitchen is adorable. Heeseung chuckles to himself as he walks in through the front door after an agazoning day at work.

he sets his stuff down near the front door and loosens his suits tie before walking into the living room but quickly stops in his tracks once he realizes you're wearing one of his t-shirts...

but its not the t-shirt that throws him off, its what's underneath

well, lack of what's underneath

you're wearing nothing.

absolutely nothing as you twirl around the tiled kitchen, baking something.

heeseung chuckles to himself as you turn to face the counter, and lucky for him - he gets a perfect view of your plump ass as you bend over the counter in order to reach something from the top cabinet.

you feel hands snake around your body, perching themselves on your hips - keeping you in place. a soft gasp leaves your lips - not realizing that your boyfriend had come home from work

"hi baby , I didn't hear you come in" you say with a smile , but he doesn't say anything , nor does he move. you feel his face bury into the side of your neck , kissing your skin sweetly.

heeseung hums , the vibrations shooting down your body in ripples. one of his hands snakes down to the hem of the shirt your wearing , slipping up and underneath the fabric , his icy fingertips grazing your sternum and up until they cup one of your breasts.

"you know what you're doing , you and I both know this" heeseung bites down on your earlobe after whispering in you ear, sending shivers down your spine.

he's not lying , but the fact that he points it out to you makes your clit pulsate.

"prancing around the kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt like some kind of slut begging to be fucked against the counter" he pinches your nipple , hard - resulting in a yelp being ripped from your throat.

"couldnt even wait until I eat dinner hmm?" his other hand trails down from your hip to your clit, pressing his fingers against the bundle of nerves.

you whine at the contact, and heeseung can feel you clench around nothing.

"wanna dress like a slut ? I'll fuck you like one"

you don't know when he took his pants off, but you feel his cock slip into your needy hole , his tip pushing into you.

"h-hee" you whimper pathetically , his degrading tone making you feel hot.

"hmm, say my name again baby" he bites down on your shoulder , slowly pushing himself into you , but not all the way . his hands push you further up onto the counter , your feet almost dangling in the air as you press your tip-toes into the tile.

"h-heeseung-" you moan at the feeling of his dick slowly intruding into your walls

"that's it baby, say my name" he breathes into your ear , a low growl

and so you do

over and over again as he pushes his full length inside you , his tip kissing your cervix and passed that

deeper and deeper

inch by fucking inch

in that god damn shirt

PARK JONGSEONG ------ ♡

" ill keep you up until the sunset - speaking in tongues , yeah , we ain't done yet "

jay is normally so sweet in bed , so gentle and kind - he would leave featherlight kisses on your skin , his hands would massage every crease of your beautiful body - making sure to give you as much pleasure as humanly possible and even beyond.

so when you get home from an early morning brunch with one of your old friends , jay seems upset for some odd reason.. and you can't seem to pinpoint why.

"jay, what's wrong?" you ask him for the third time since coming home just short of thirty minutes ago. the clock strikes one fifteen , you having arrived home less than twenty minutes ago.

"when were you going to tell me you went out to see a man , y/n?" jay asks from the couch , aimlessly scrolling through his phone without even looking up at you - but his tone giving away how he feels ; he was upset , mad even. you didn't tell him it was one of your old friends from community college who happened to be a man.

a man with a whole fiancee . he was like a brother to you , hes the only reason you survived school - but you wanted to see just how jealous you could make him and oh what a dangerous game you decided to play.

"I didn't think it would matter , dont you trust me?" jay scoffs , rolling his eyes in response. you cross your arms over your chest , staring down at him.

"I trust you, baby- it's him I don't trust" he speaks , not looking up at you. irritation flows through your veins as you stare at him.

"yeah? you think I'd let him fuck me?" your sentence almost makes jay choke on his saliva - almost.

he looks up at you through his eyebrows, cocking them up in order to egg you on - questioning you. you mimic his actions , tilting your head to the side and raising your eyebrow , encouraging him to speak.

"would you?" he asks , amusement in his voice as he sets his phone down on the coffee table , his full attention on you now. you dont cower or shy away , deciding to play your final card before you unleash a side of him you have never seen before.

"and if I did?" jays final string of patients snaps as he stands up from the couch and slyly walks around it within less than a fraction of a second - so fast you ended up getting whiplash as he pushes your back against the cool wall , his hand wrapping around your throat in order to push your head back to look at him.

"than I guess I'd have to fuck you better now, hmm?" he tongues his cheek with a smirk before throwing you over his shoulder, walking down the hall and into your shared bedroom.

jay throws you onto the bed before hovering over you, gripping your face in his hands and squeezing your cheeks.

"I'll have to show you that being fucked like a whore is the only thing you're good for"

the two of you have been at it for house - well , he's been at it for hours.

edging you with his fingers and tongue , occasionally pressing his tip against your hole in order to get your hopes up before tearing it all down and edging you with his fingers once more.

your hands are up against the bed posts , restrained thanks to the black rope wrapped around your wrists so you can't touch your boyfriend. your legs are non-stop shaking as jay eats you out again , his tongue lapping at your puffy , sensitive clit that has you convulsing in overstimulation.

"j-jay please.." you whimper just above a whisper. your hands tug at the restraints for the nth time and you can feel your juices mixed with saliva run down your asscheeks and thighs to coat the bed underneath. jay chuckles into your pussy , the sound echoing through the chambers of your fucked-out mind.

he detaches from your bundle of nerves before roughly grabbing your throat , forcing you to look at him as his fingers bully their way inside your desperate pussy , sucking his digits in as if they were nothing .

"you wanna cum , sweetheart ? want daddy to let you cum ?" you frantically nod your head , your eyes pleading for release.

jay could never ever say no to you , no matter how hard he tries to be stern - you were his little angel and he would do anything for you.

"cum baby , you can cum now angel" your juices squirt all over his arm and bed at his words , your pussy fluttering around his digits as you arch your back up off the mattress , a squeal leaving your lips as pleasure rips through your body after all the torture he had coated all over your body.

after a moment of coming down from your high , you feel jays dick prod at your pussy. your eyes fling open and towards the window - it was beginning to get dark , the sun illuminating a dim glow over the horizon through the window as a gray begins to paint over the sky - it was late.

"j-jay pl-please I-" a moan cuts you off as he pushes his cock into your gummy walls , the shape of his dick engraving itself into your core. your legs shake and write under him - all jay does is chuckle at your attempts to escape

"you really thought I was done with you?"

SIM JAEHYUN ------ ♡

" and I'll keep leading you on , if you keep leading me into your room "

it was only supposed to be every other weekend.

it was supposed to be a no strings attached agreement.

Jake and you have never had a normal relationship , and with the rate it's going ; it never will be.

it started off as every other weekend. you would meet him at his apartment on Saturday at exactly 6 pm.

there would be absolutely no talking involved , he would fuck you deeply into the mattress for hours into the late night - calling you names and granting you orgasm after orgasm.

that was until he invited you to go with him to pick up some food one night after meeting up with him.

you knew deep down you shouldn't agree to go - how this would be the start to something that the both of you agreed to never spark

but you stupidly did it anyways.

you two chatted for hours over curry and endless sushi.

talking about how college was going, your family members, just life in general.

it ended up leading to Jake calling you every week asking you to come over. the two of you started with your face in the pillow screaming his name over and over in a sinful , devious chant that was swallowed into the secrets of his room and it ended with the two of you cuddling while watching movies.

it progressed into something even deeper - but hey , no strings were attached , no labels were involved right ?

oh how you wish it could be something more as you stared into jakes eyes - almost as if you were looking directly into his soul as he fucked you with your back pressed against your mattress , in your room , his hand cupping your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

this was different.

he was different with you.

he never fucked anyone in missionary - claiming it was too intimate.

he never went over to anyone else's place because he preferred to be in his own space.

but yet here you were ; your bodies one as he presses his cock deep inside your walls - his name dripping off his tongue so prettily.

it happened every other day now , he would call you and ask to come over or you would just invite him - lead him into your room with his hands all over your body , the exchangement of quiet kisses and moans that lead to you being pressed underneath him , his thrusts focused and concentrated as he works you to your orgasm - the way he would look at you as if you held his entire world.

you were absolutely convinced it was a look of love..

but that feeling of something more was stripped from you as you witnessed Jake flirting with another girl - tucking her hair behind her ear as he stared deeply into her eyes - the same way he looked into yours.

you tried to avoid him , you really did.

but it was hard when he had been calling non-stop for a week and a half - almost every hour of the day he would send you a text , asking if he could come over.

but it was Jake , and you were you .

you couldn't help but call him and tell him to come over

you missed his touch too much, you missed everything about him in that short week of ignoring and silence

but in this moment you were one as he has you on your back once more , your legs over his shoulders and your knees pressed on either side of your head.

"fuck you're so god damn beautiful baby , taking me so well" you moan at his words , his cock licking that sweet spot deep inside your core.

your choked out moans flow right into his ear , influencing his thrusts to quicken , his hips snapping against the flush of your ass in a perfect rhythm .

"god you drive me so fucking insane" he spoke truthfully. your pussy squeezes him , milks him completely dry at the two of you cum in unison - proving the two of you to be one singular being.

"Jake..?" you question as he puts his shoes on after getting dresses.

"I gotta go , I have something to do" he responds, not giving you the chance to question him.

"actually , I wanted to talk.." his ears perk up at your words , turning around to face you. you shyly look up at him through your eyelashes , your cheeks red in nervousness

"I wanted to talk... about us,,," Jake cocks his eyebrows up as he tongues his cheek in question.

"y/n.. baby there is no us.. you remember the agreement , dont you?" the reminder was agoning , like an alarm clock ripping you away from the warmth of your bed. he cups your cheek , his hands sweet and his words painful. like a dagger into your chest as it weighs down on your heart ;

heavy and dull.

you knew he was fucking another girl. he hadn't called you in around a week since that night. his neck had faint hickeys that you didn't leave and he would pass you in the hallways without giving you a second glance.

so you had decided that night when you called him , it would be the last . Jake answered your phone call with a smirk , knowing that you couldn't stay away.

he found it absolutely adorable how you couldn't resist him , be away from him. he was like your personal drug that you didn't even have any knowledge of

you were addicted and had no fucking clue.

Jake had your back against the mattress , his lips attached to your neck with one of his hands fondling your breasts as you moan into the silent air.

your back was arched off the mattress , clawing at jakes back - breaking the skin as you leave small drops of blood in your nails trail. Jake detached his lips from your hot skin , looking deeply into your eyes.

you wished he wouldn't - your eyes were glossy and your eyebrows were pinched together , breathy moans dripping off your tongue as he fucks into you deeply , the mattress rocking and your legs shaking.

you would normally be the one to hold and maintain eye contact - wanting to see him completely

but it was you who looked away, shutting your eyes as you turn your head to the side. it sounded like another choked moan , but in reality it was a sob that clawed its way out of your throat.

I love you

you wished you could say, with all your heart you wished

but you couldnt.

as the two of you cum in unison, Jake began to put his clothes back on again , signaling that he had to go.

that wasn't normal.

he would normally clean you off and either run you a bath, cuddle you, or ask you to go get food - his treat.

you felt like the rest of them ; you felt like a toy.

you felt used and neglected. you really thought something was different , you thought that there was a slight possibility - the small , dim ray of hope was completely gone now and all that was left was jakes expressionless face as he turns to look at you.

"I have to go" you didn't say anything - you didn't even look at him when he spoke to you , deciding to stare off into space - looking directly through the man standing in front of you.

"y/n?" you tilt your eyes up, looking up at him through your eyebrows

now it was your turn to possess the uninterested, expressionless look on your face , making Jake part his lips in confusion.

this was not you. and he doesn't like it.

at all.

Jake went to cup your cheek - and hell you even let him. his thumb rubbing your cheek gently as he stares into your eyes

but yours are completely blank. there is absolutely nothing there as he looks down into you. the prominent eyebags soiling your perfect skin under your eyes.

"I'll see you later baby"

"Jake, we really need to talk about us" you say quickly , looking at him with meaning - he couldnt escape this conversation

you were tired

"y/n please , you can't be serious - there is no us" his hand doesn't let go of your cheek as he pouts at you after speaking , finally reading you

"you didn't catch feelings , did you?" he questions with a small smirk gracing his lips. your silence was more than an answer as Jake explores your face. the truth was is that you had.

he had seen every bare and true aspect of who you are. he knows everything about you without being conscious of it. he has you in the palm of his hand

exactly where he wants you.

"cute.." it all he says before leaving your apartment - cold and empty , your bodies warmth being the only light in the entire apartment.

you had blocked him that night, deciding to completely rid of him in that moment in time.

perhaps he was in over his head , but your silence made him realize things about himself that he would have never even thought of

especially when he saw you smiling at other man - the same way you once smiled at him. talking with him , your nose scrunched up in a smile as giggles fill the air around him.

he had once thought that he had you in the palm of his hands

but it was the other way around.

you had an affect on him that no other woman had ever possessed. he had thought about you every day for the month of pain filled , regretful silence he had endured .

you would be a liar if you said you didn't miss him either. all the nights of darkness with your bed cold. you two had been together long enough that he had his specific side of the bed . you always left it blank , finding it too hard to sleep where he did.

you went to lay down , pattering across the living room floor before being forced into an abrupt stop thanks to harsh knocking at your door. you stood completely frozen , knowing who was on the other side.

if you let him in , you could never go back

you would be stuck in this endless loop that only resulted in pain.

Jake wanted to break that cycle as he stood outside your door. you staring at him from the other side , basically seeing through the wood and looking directly at him.

you couldn't invite him in - not like before.

but you couldn't resist him. you would give just about anything to be held by his gentle hands one more as his eyes explore your body , reading you as if you were the most perfect story to be read.

so your hand twisted the door knob , letting the cold air into your apartment - a chill running up your spine at the sight of jakes disheveled appearance. his hair was a mess and he was in his pajamas. his appearance made you fuck all things as every ounce of morality left your body

"Jake.." your voice trailed off into silence, carried away by the wind as the two of you stared at each other.

"y/n please"

that cycle would never be broken as you pull him back into the warmth of your bed.

PARK SUNGHOON ------ ♡

" don't take my verses out of context - I know its weighing on your conscience "

you knew it was wrong

you knew you weren't supposed to be doing this but fuck did it feel so right to be laying under sunghoon's naked , sweaty body as he drove his cock further into your fucked out pussy - all thoughts of your boyfriend completely leaving your head and the only thing left was how good sunghoon was making you feel.

"does he fuck you this good baby?" you shake your head no, tears brimming around the corners of your eyes as you moan in response.

"n-no.." you shyly reply , your legs shaking in his firm grip as his hips snap against yours - setting a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars.

"tell me im the only one , tell me how much of a fucking slut you are for me" you whimper aft his cruel words , but let go of your lip inbetween your teeth as you speak

"y-you're the only one, o-nly y-ou hoonie a-aah" you finish with a whimper as he slaps your ass , making you squeal and jump in his hold.

your boyfriend thought that sunghoon was your best friend, that you went over to his apartment to study for an upcoming exam but here you were ; folded in on yourself as he drives his dick inside your gummy , sensitive walls and up to kiss your cervix sweetly.

you spoke honestly , only sunghoon could fuck you this good - manipulate your body into anything he wants. every time your boyfriend would fuck you - you imagined it was sunghoon instead every single time without fail. knowing that he did it better.

"who owns you baby , who owns this fucking pussy" he speaks harshy , his thrusts never letting up as you arch your back into the air , your legs spreading for him even further.

"y-yo-u do..." your voice trails off as you shut your eyes tight , the tears springing free as you scratch at sunghoons back. your words aren't enough for him as he grips your chin with one of his hands , forcing your eyes to open and lock with his.

"what was that baby ? I didn't quite hear you" he taunts , making you whimper into him. high-pitched mewls replace your loud moans , curling up into your best friend as you give him the answer he's looking for

"daddy does.." your words make him smirk as he lands another harsh smack to your ass , making you jump in his hold.

"damn right I do" his hips snap against yours more roughly as you fall apart on his cock that splits you in half , coming to your orgasm as you cream all over his dick - a mess to clean up later. sunghoon cums inside you right after , stilling inside you as he shoots his white ropes deep into your abdomen.

after a moment , he slowly pulls himself out - but not before leaning over to grab his phone to snap a quick picture of him half way inside you , both of your guys' fluids messily dripping out of your pussy and down your ass to stain the bed underneath.

you know where that's going later - straight into your messages as a reminder of who fucks you best

of who truly owns you. he'll send it over to you without warning , completely catching you off guard as your face turns red

your boyfriend will ask you whats wrong , and you'll wave him off by saying its nothing

the guilt will lay heavy later - but fuck that right now.

sunghoon cleans you up and helps you get dressed - and as he makes his way into the bathroom to shower , you check your phone to see who texted you

it was your boyfriend , and the message read

'I'll see you later baby , I hope you're having a good time studying with sunghoon ♡" he was so sweet that it made you physically sick , you quickly messaged him back before setting your phone back down onto the table before making your way into the bathroom . you strip your clothes off before entering the shower with him.

sunghoon smirks down at you as he takes his body wash into his hands.

"guilty yet?" he asks , making you look down at the bathtub floor in embarrassment - giving him his answer.

sunghoon grabs the sides of your waist , coating your body in bubblely body wash as his hands explore your naked , wet body.

you moan at the feeling of his big hands kneeding your plump ass. sunghoon leans down so his lips can capture yours in a heated kiss. and right before you can wrap your arms around his shoulders , he spins your body around and pins your front up against the cold tile wall , your nipples hardening and your breasts flattening.

you hiss at the rough cold as one of his hands snakes down your body and inbetween your thighs in order to press up against your clit , and the other grabs one of your legs , hooking his arm underneath your knee in order to hoist it into the air , giving him a better angle.

"let me ease that guilt baby , yeah?" he says before kissing your neck , but not leaving any marks.

every ounce of guilt leaves your body as his cock sinks into you , your pussy clenching down on his length as you moan his name , the soapy water running down inbetween your bodies as he fucks you into the wall.

and as you run home afterwards , cursing at yourself for leaving so late at night - you know the guilt of letting sunghoon use your body in any way he wanted would be the only thing on your mind as your boyfriend greets you at the door , kissing your cheek before walking into the kitchen to make you a plate of dinner.

you open your phone as a message pops up in your notifications , but quickly turn it off as you see it was an image from sunghoon.

KIM SUNOO ------ ♡

" baptize in your thighs 'til it hurts - cause i'm about to take you back to church "

if there is one thing you know about sunoo , its the fact that when he eats you out ; he is absolutely ruthless. he either wont let you cum until you're literally about to pass out from the edging - or he will make you cum too many times until you're begging him to stop.

he absolutely loves it when your legs shake in his hands , his tongue working you until your body is completely limp on the bed and all that can be heard from you are desperate mewls and quiet whimpers of his name.

he loves the power he possess over you - that he can make you go absolutely fucking stupid just from his tongue. he could eat you out for hours on end and even past that. but tonight he really wants to test the waters as his tongue starts working at you for the thirteenth time tonight.

he's been switching from edging you and denying you the satisfaction of orgasming - to forcing you to cum on his tongue thanks to the overstimulation. every time you think he's about to pull away from inbetween your thighs after granting you release ; he dives right back inside your core to work his magic once more.

"s-sun p-lease.." you beg , your voice just above a whisper as your body lay completely limp underneath his hold. sunoo's hands rest on your hips - his arms looped under your legs that are flung over his shoulders that also lay completely limp in his hold.

he originally had his hands holding your hips down onto the mattress so that you couldn't move - but now they trace gentle circles that don't add up to anywhere near the assault he grants onto your puffy - overstimulated clit.

"you can take it baby" he chuckles into your wet pussy , the vibrations of his voice shoot lightening throughout your entire body - making you convulse underneath him.

sunoo's eyes wides as you begin to jump , your body basically taking fucking screenshots as his lips wrap around your clit - sucking down harshly on your mound of sensitive nerves. your hands fly up into his hair and despite his hands being on your hips , you grind your heat down onto his face - not caring if your rubbing yourself all over his pretty self.

all you can seem to think about is sunoo's fucking tongue and how its working against you. your hips rock into his face and sunoo's face is completely in shock as you fuck yourself on him - your juices smearing all over his nose , cheeks and chin that drip down onto the bed beneath your bodies'.

sunoo takes this opportunity to slip two of his long fingers into your sopping hole , instantly curling up in order to find your sweet spot. a loud squeal leaves your throat and your hands detach from his hair in order to grip the wet sheets on either side of your body.

the duality of sunoo's tongue and fingers has you completely mind - fucked and dumb , your mind going completely blank and your moans quieting down to nothing as you squirt all over his face. sunoo gasps at you , his mouth not faltering his actions.

he looks at you with adoration , your thirteenth orgasm coming to a slow finish as your breathing is quick and shallow. sunoo detaches from your clit in order to get a good look at you ; the sweat that coats your body illuminates your skin in a glow thanks to the sun casting down through the curtains of your window , your hair is tangled and messy and there are prominent goosebumps trailing everywhere on your pretty figure.

just as you think its over , a harsh slap to your clit makes you jump. you go to look over at sunoo and as you do ; you dont recognize your boyfriend . all you see is a sinful fucking monster in front of you - that shit - eating grin you've come accustomed to seeing staring right back at you.

"I'm not done with you yet" he says before his fingers plunge their way into your tight pussy once more - his head lowering down so his lips can suck around your swollen clit.

a scream erupts from the back of your throat , but you can't buck your hips forward as sunoo's hand rests on your abdomen - keeping your ass down onto the mattress.

the pleasure he grabs you on your clit is beginning to sting - but neither of you care as your moans pick up volume , influencing sunoo to continue on into the long , messy hours of the night.

YANG JUNGWON ------ ♡

" stay on the ground until your knees hurt - no more praying baby i'ma be your preacher "

jungwon normally loves it when hes control - he prefers it really. but when you look up at him with those big doe eyes through your lashes - he can't help but coo at your adorable attempt to have him fall apart underneath you.

as you sink to your knees , you look up at jungwon with peading eyes and pouty , glossed lips . jungwon looks down at you with a small smirk gracing his lips , maintaining eye contact with you - even as you unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down around his ankles.

"you're so pretty on your knees for me" jungwons words vibrate throughout your entire body , making a shiver run up your spine . as you kitten-lick his tip , you jump a little as you feel his hands in your hair , ushering you to take him into your mouth - so you do . your tongue massages the underside of his shaft - licking the thick vein that has him shuddering under your touch.

it doesn't take long for your boyfriend to be fucking your face - his hands tangled completely in your hair as he thrusts his hips into your face. your nose presses against his pelvis with every rut of his hips into your face. the disgusting gagging sounds that sound from right under his body fill the small apartment alongside his moans that fuel you to keep going - despite almost being choked out on his lengthy cock.

your saliva mixes with jungwons precum that leak out the side of your mouth and down your chin in order to drip down onto the couch cautions below. your hands reach up to grab jungwons thighs , your manicured nails digging into his skin.

your lipgloss smears down his cock , staining it a pretty , faint pink color that matches your rosy cheeks. you feel jungwons dick twitch in your mouth - so its no surprise that he pushes your face down onto his dick , your nose pressing up against his pelvis bone - cutting off all of your supply of air .

you choke around his dick as he shoots his white ropes of cum deep down your sore throat. you slap his thighs - begging for air as you look up at him with teary eyes - the wetness staining your cheeks as they create streams in your foundation , your mascara smearing slightly under your eyes .

jungwon thinks your the cutest like this ; his cock down your throat with his hands in your hair , tears streaming down your face as your makeup smears - completely fucked out around his dick without even touching you in the ways you want .

but that's not enough for jungwon - he wants to see you completely fall apart with bruised knees and a sore throat so bad that you wont even be able to talk.

so he takes your head in his hands for the fourth time that night and forces his dick into your mouth , your mascara smeared down your cheeks - you attempt to breathe in through your nose , but it stings as he continues his assault down your throat.

you groan around his length , his cum drips out the sides of your mouth to dribble down your chin. your throat and mouth have a weird texture due to all the salty cum you've been swallowing but fuck was it all worth it to see the godly sight above you - jungwons head was thrown back as his adams apple bobbing up and down as sinful , loud moans drip off his pretty , full lips .

the praise he was gifting you also fueled your continuation of your hollowed cheeks as you suck around his cock , saying things such as

"such a good fucking girl , on your knees for me" ,

"my beautiful angel"

"takin' my cock so well, fuck"

and so many other nasty things he says makes your ego sky rocket. your tongue works slyly under his shaft, making his fingers tighten in your hair , his grip unbearable. his tightening signals to you that hes close to cumming again. he pushes your face down onto him, your nose pressing up against his pelvis bone that cuts off your air supply.

your knees dig into the ground as he shoots his last load down your throat , his ropes of cum you automatically swallow. jungwon throws his head back as a particularly loud groan bounces off the walls of your shared apartment that flow right into your ears as if it were music.

soon enough , jungwon pulls you off of his dick before standing you up. but thanks to how long you've been on the ground for , your legs give out - jungwon catching you in the process . you look down at your knees , noting the bright redness on your skin that matches your warm cheeks .

jungwon follows your line of sight , a smirk gracing his mouth . he picks you up into the air bridal style , a squeal followed by a stream of giggles sounds from you .

"won what are you doing" you smile at him as walks you over to your shared room, kicking open the door before laying you down onto the mattress.

"rewarding you for being my good little cum slut , how about that hmm?"

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kiragecko · 6 months ago

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The Husband is reading Feet of Clay to nq (our eldest) and me. I last read it over a decade ago. What's hitting me this time is how Pratchett likes hammering his point home through multiple channels.

This is a book about respectability politics, discrimination, and privilege. The golems are the A-plot, loosely standing in for trafficked people/undocumented immigrants. (They also share some similarities to disabled experiences.)

But the book has SO MANY subplots, all sending the same message!

Cheri is constantly kicking down - trying to figure out how to survive as a dwarf in a human-centric city, while badmouthing the undead. It has echoes both of assimilated immigrants turning on newer, less acceptable ones AND 'normal' gays trying to distance themselves from the 'weird' queers.

The key to Vetinari's poisoning is recognizing the classist forces acting on the palace servants/the residents of Cockbill Street. How their desire to stay respectable holds them down, keeps them hungry and meek. How a healthy powerful man can survive, but a poor baby and old woman are vulnerable. And we see how they kick down as well - tormenting William Scuggins, who seems to have been either mentally disabled or mentally ill, for entertainment.

And the royal plot is contrasted with Vimes' mutterings about how the common people suffered under royalty but are still attracted to it. How they seem to WANT someone above them. Sure, some people might suffer, but nobody thinks it will be THEM, so it's fine.

Reading it again makes it almost unbelievable that people were trying to suggest Pratchett would be anti-trans. Right after Cheri comes out, Angua takes her to an undead bar, where it's repeatedly mentioned that people who "can't pass" can "be themself." When she chooses her new name, Angua thinks about how most people wouldn't have associated that name with someone with a full beard, but now they're going to have to. It's not subtle.

(There's also a woman with dementia there, in one of the books examples of how NOT to kick down. Pratchett doesn't DIRECTLY focus on disability this book, but there are a lot of little moments. (All the golems use AAC!))

I don't know. I'm just struck by how intersectionalist Pratchett's politics were. How this story can have 4 very different plots going on at the same time, but all of them have the same message.

He was a really great writer.

#discworld #terry pratchett #feet of clay #racism #fantasy racism #ableism #bigotry #discrimination #respectability politics #crab bucket mentality

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santacoppelia · 1 year ago

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Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #narrative analysis #character analysis #the metatron #and a casual Hamlet quote #just because I love Hamlet

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inherdaze · 11 months ago

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jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

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mayearies · 1 year ago

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✰ DRAMA KING

‘not to be dramatic or anything, but i’d die for you.’ -miles g. genre: fluff

warnings: just the mention of the reader having a brother a/n: alright no cause i contemplated this name for a while 😭 (@moonpiies would know also ty for her for this idea mwah mwah) and ill probably end up changing it later if i think of a better one also this is a pretty lazy fic

e42 miles had lost one of his airpods while over your house, around 6 months ago. he was devastated and remained pretty sad for the next few hours. hearing him whine about it was pretty funny though. but now, he was at your house again for a little study date to brush up on some subjects together. but there wasn't much studying going on cause, y'know.

—"i just remembered you wanted me to come over to study." "okay, but this is more fun? stickers now, study later."

you were both dolling each other up by putting random stickers on each others face and arms. for what reason? i don't know the idea just kind of came out of the blue. but you both were enjoying it. "so, how's the one airpod life treatin' ya?"

"shut up." "i mean genuinely." "so do i."

you knew he wasn't being serious. you two play a lot to know the difference between serious and playful. but that playful tone switched to a rather serious one when you both realized you were out of stickers. "there should be more in my brother's room. he's started liking hello kitty, strangely."

miles pointed to your pillows and sheets which were littered with hello kitty. "is it 'cause of you and all this?"

"i mean it might be. you never know for sure."

♡ rummaging through your brothers room, you stumbled upon more stickers, mission accomplished. maybe you were influencing him into your interests a little. 'maybe'? tell that to the 5 pages of stickers in his drawer.

♡ the thing is, you coincidently ran out of drinks. on the way to the kitchen you went, grabbing two cups and filling them to the brim with soda. on your way out, you stepped on something and heard a light pain in your foot. well, miles was gonna be happy for sure.

"i have a surprise." "oh no, i'm so interested." "don't play with me, you'll like it this time."

you pulled the missing airpod out your pocket and miles' face lit up with a mix of surprise and joy. "like you're sure-"

"yes, i'm sure. i'm the only one with airpods in this house and i keep track of them, unlike someone i know."

miles brought his lips to the back of your hand and kissed it all the way up to where you elbow was. then he hugged you. he doesn't do this unless he wants something. it was cunning, but sweet in a way or two. "would it be an exaggeration to say i'd die for you?"

"yes, actually." "what if i said i'd kill someone for you?" "thats not that much of an exaggeration. you've probably tried to do it once." "eh, maybe. possibly, even."

#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #miles morales earth 42

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nothingbutsweetwords · 6 months ago

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ..."

Word count: 6000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst.

FALLING — 7. Her.

During the first moons of her stay at the Red Keep, everything seemed new and exciting. There was some sense of freedom in not having her family around, but with each sunrise, it became more complicated, and the longing grew stronger.

The letters she received from her mother initially brought comfort, but soon they became short. No matter how many words her mother wrote about her, her siblings, and her father, it was never enough. She wrote daily, though she only sent them every three days. She would tell her about her day, always omitting her nightly outings, and tried to hide how much she missed them, and her mother, worried, always asked about Aemond's progress.

Over time, even all the letters became inadequate; they couldn't fill the void she felt. She longed to hear their voices, feel the warmth of their hugs. She questioned a few times if it had been a good idea, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts to remain resolute.

Aemond spent most of his time in the yard, both morning and evening, promising to become the best warrior for her. This caused their visits to the library to decrease. Nevertheless, every night without fail, they slept together, face to face, finding solace in each other's presence.

Her lessons with the septa became increasingly tedious, or perhaps she just grew more easily bored. She spent a lot of time in Helaena's room, who seemed happy to have her. Helaena continued to intrigue her with riddles and enigmatic phrases, making her wonder when each prediction would come true. So far, none seemed bad, so she wasn't frightened or worried. Helaena also helped her improve her embroidery technique, although there wasn't much to be done; it wasn't her strong suit. Soon, the lack of activities even led her to become interested in her insects, delighted to see her aunt’s enthusiasm.

One day, while sitting on the floor, Helaena placed a ladybug on her hand. "It tickles" she said, laughing softly as the insect walked across her palm. Helaena smiled at her, happy to share her passion with someone.

"They all have seven dots, the red ones" Helaena said, revealing an interesting curiosity. "She likes you" she added, looking her in the eyes with a slight smile. She thanked her for saying that.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing to a wooden box with a transparent lid, where several insects could be seen inside. There were some spiders and others she couldn't name.

When Helaena turned to look in the direction her finger pointed, her smile faded a bit. She took the box in her hands and allowed her to observe them from above, while the ladybug continued to walk between her fingers and fly from one hand to the other.

"I do not trust them yet" she said quietly. "I am not sure whether their wishes are for good or ill."

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Helaena pointed to a large black spider from above and said: "They weave intricate webs, and sometimes those webs can hide important secrets. I'm still trying to unravel which ones" she said, frowning. "But what I know is, we have to beware of the guardian of secrets" she warned, as if wanting to protect her from an-as-yet unknown danger. She simply nodded, hoping nothing bad would come of it.

As time passed, life at the castle continued with its ups and downs; Aemond's training, the enigmatic conversations with Helaena, the whispers of the people, and the few letters from her mother. Even through it all, she found moments of peace, and convinced herself that despite the challenges, she was exactly where she needed to be, next to him.

Occasionally, she found distraction by visiting her grandsire's room. She spent hours there, reading to him, listening to his fascinating stories about their ancestors and the old Valyria. Often, she asked for tales about her mother's youth, seeking to feel closer to her.

She had also begun to insist on Lyra's presence during every meal, finding in her company a sense of familiarity, a relief from her growing homesickness. As expected, everything began to feel cramped, and Lyra, as perceptive as ever, had noticed it, and she herself could no longer ignore it.

She missed her family terribly, and there was nothing that could ease that pain, except the obvious. She felt trapped, guilty for wanting to go to Dragonstone and leave Aemond behind, but she couldn't help it.

"Could it be that, perhaps, I've made a mistake coming here?" she asked one night, her voice filled with doubt and shame for exposing her deepest thoughts.

"I do not think things are that simple, princess. You came here with good intentions, and missing your family is only natural, it does not mean you have made a mistake" Lyra replied gently.

She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. "I do really miss them" she murmured, longing evident, head bowed. "No matter how hard I try, this is not my home."

"Why do you say that, princess?" After dinner, Lyra had drawn her a warm bath, and now, in her nightdress, Lyra was gently brushing her long hair.

"I've heard the whispers when I walk alone in the halls." Lyra nodded, understanding the situation and listening attentively to her words. Both were sitting on the bed, and she was with her back facing her lady-in-waiting, between her legs. "It's as if they believe me deaf. I know what they say or think, and it's not... good" she confessed, pain reflected in her voice.

Upon hearing her last words, Lyra set the brush aside and drew her close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Lyra was the daughter of one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and had lived her entire life in that family. Though only a few years older, she felt a deep maternal love for the princess.

"We must not let such foolish words disturb our ears, and if they do, let us ensure they do not enter our precious minds, yes?" Lyra said, whispering with firmness. "They mean nothing."

She nodded, and unable to contain herself, she began to cry softly in her caretaker's arms. They remained like that for a while until she could calm down. She appreciated Lyra's love and understanding, feeling fortunate to have someone like that by her side, watching over her well-being.

After some time, Lyra left the room, wishing her goodnight. This was her signal to get up, put on her cloak over her shoulders, dampen her face a bit to erase any trace of dry tears, and take the gift she had prepared so much for him with the help of her mother. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she headed towards her destination, seeking to find another place of peace and connection amidst the storm of emotions that assailed her.

Aemond's nameday wasn't until the next morning, but she never had much patience for such things. That night, like all others, she entered the room with a candle in one hand, only now she hid the gift behind her back with the other.

Aemond was sitting by the window, his gaze fixed on the night sky. She closed the door with her hip, as both her hands were occupied, and walked over to him. Aemond's face showed signs of fatigue, even some sadness. She knew he was trying to stay awake while waiting for her, as always. The notion of time had escaped her during the shared moment with Lyra, and he always ended up terribly exhausted by his training. Seeing her arrive, Aemond settled and offered a tired smile. She circled the bed, placing the candle on the small table, and with her free hand, she took off her cloak, hiding the gift underneath on the nearby chair.

She walked towards him slowly, observing the clear sky. The moon shone over the city, enhancing the delicacy of his face.

"This is how the night was when I claimed Vhagar" he said, with sorrow. Her heart squeezed at his words, she sadly knew he would never have a flight like that again.

"What was it like?" she finally asked, cautiously. She had never dared to ask about that moment, fearing to reopen wounds, but now that he mentioned it, her curiosity stirred again.

He smiled, still looking at the sky. "I never imagined flying would feel like that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Did it ever trouble you when I did?" he asked.

"What? Claim Vhagar?" she inquired, surprised by his question.

"Yes" he said softly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting pride. "Of course not. It was meant for you, a warrior destined for a warrior." Her words carried a sense of admiration and certainty, a testament to her unwavering belief in his capabilities. "And that was just the beginning, Aemond. Together, you will be unstoppable" she said, her voice whispering with conviction and anticipation. "I do feel safer knowing we have you as protectors."

"Thank you" he expressed, hopeful. She knew the journey was just beginning, and the horizon stretched like a promise of all the adventures to come. "I did it on behalf of us both." She smiled gratefully, gently squeezing him.

"I know they will write books that will pass through all the ages, Aemond, about your courage and triumph" she said, walking towards the sofa.

"I'm not sure about that much" he replied, laughing lightly at her words.

"Then I will be the one to write them" she said, pulling the gift from under her cloak. "Close your eye" she instructed, with an excited smile. Aemond obeyed, but not before giving her an odd look.

"Open your hands" she indicated once she was in front of him again. He did so without question, and with a gentle gesture, she placed the gift in his hands, which lowered slightly at the unexpected weight.

"Now you can look" she whispered. Aemond did so quickly, and looked surprised at the delicate blue velvet bag. She was looking at him with excitement and a touch of nervousness. It was the first time she had given such a planned gift to someone, and she hoped not to disappoint. But even if she did, she would never find out, as he would never show it.

"It's your nameday present" she explained with a radiant smile. "I couldn't wait to give it to you on the morrow, and I wanted to be the first one to do it" she said, letting out a small laugh from her lips.

"I love it" he replied, placing the gift on his lap and looking directly at her, the faint moonlight adorning his gaze with a softness that made him appear even more beautiful.

"You haven't even seen it!" she exclaimed, softly laughing. "Come on, open it."

"I would love anything you gave me" he said laughing too, while untying the laces of the velvet bag to reveal the gift. She had a premonition that his words were sincere.

He carefully pulled the wooden case out of the bag. It was made of ebony, so its color was dark like the night, almost black, and was decorated with delicate carvings. He ran his hand over the surface, appreciating the abstract shapes as if they were a work of art. He had a slightly open mouth as he admired the case with admiration. Then, carefully, he opened it, revealing the true gift.

Inside rested a valyrian steel dagger, shining and forged with impeccable craftsmanship. Its sharp, polished blade reflected the light with a silver shine. Each side of it was adorned with intricate engravings that wound from the hilt to the edge.

His eyes lit up upon seeing it, and a sincere smile spread across his face. "It's valyrian steel" she explained enthusiastically, "so you'll always carry a piece of our roots."

The handle was equally impressive. It was wrapped in black leather, a material that, according to the smith, provided a more comfortable and secure grip. However, the highlight was the sapphires embedded in the handle. The sapphires, of a deep and radiant blue, were skillfully set into the metal, creating a vibrant contrast with the silver. Each sapphire was carefully polished, capturing flashes of light that gave the impression of small stars embedded in the hilt.

The guard of the dagger, also made of steel, was decorated with intertwining motifs that complemented the sapphires in the handle. Aemond took it in his hands carefully, observing every detail meticulously.

She had often heard him speak about Viserys's dagger, seeing the longing in his eyes when he did so, as well as the sadness knowing he could never possess it. That's why she had tried to make something unique for him, something exclusively his, perhaps even something that could be passed down to future Targaryens, always remembered as his.

He set the dagger aside and looked at the box. Inside was a sapphire too. She knew some people carried those precious gemstones as talismans, believing they protected the eyes and helped see beyond the physical. Besides, she had always thought the color matched his eyes. It seemed like a thoughtful detail, but she didn't dare mention its significance.

"My father gave me two he brought back from one of his expeditions to the Stepstones a few years ago" she explained, smiling as he held the sapphire between his fingers, admiring it in the light streaming through the window. "I have the other one" she added shyly. "So you always have a piece of sky, or sea, and I hope it always reminds you that you are destined for something big." He set the sapphire aside and continued to observe. She wondered if he would be attentive enough to explore further, and of course, he was.

The box was lined with more velvet and there was a small cushion where the dagger rested. During her lessons and visits to Helaena, she had embroidered the fabric, and the tailor had turned it into this. She had tried to depict waves and the moon in different shades of blue and teal, with some white stars. They might not have been perfect, but she had poured her heart into them.

He traced the fabric with his fingers, still not saying a word.

"I embroidered it" she added proudly. Then he put the dagger back in the case, but kept the sapphire in his hand. She waited anxiously for his words. "I’m sure it does not compare to Viserys', but..."

"It's perfect" he interrupted, his voice sincere. She let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding, a wave of relief and happiness at his reaction. "I..." he began, hesitating. He shook his head slightly, searching for words. Then he put the case back in the velvet bag and stepped away from the window ledge. Once face to face, he hugged her unexpectedly. With one hand he held the gift and with the other he held her tightly. She returned the embrace with a smile, now more relaxed.

"Thank you" he whispered, holding her even tighter, their hearts almost merging in that hug. When they separated, his eye sparkled, holding back some tears, just like hers. "Let us go to bed" he said, noticing his body was cold from being pressed against the window glass. He approached a shelf where he kept some of his most precious books and now his most precious object, then headed for the bed, placing the sapphire on the bedside table after admiring it again.

Smiling, they both got under the covers, facing each other, feeling their bodies warming up again. They both reached out their hands at the same time, their hands meeting in the middle. They laughed softly and intertwined their fingers in the middle of the bed. It was their routine, talking like this, face to face, until they ran out of things to say, with their hands joined. Then they slept together, sometimes with her head on his chest, sometimes with him nestled in her arms.

"I loved it" he said sincerely. "Absolutely everything," he assured her, "no one has ever given me a better present."

She smiled proudly, happy with his words. "I'm glad you liked it."

They looked at each other in silence. It was a comfortable silence, warm even. It was at that moment, suddenly, while they looked at each other, that hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind like a torrent. Did everyone experience something as wonderful as this? Did everyone have someone to whom giving the whole world, along with their heart on a silver platter, seemed not enough? Did everyone's heart beat so wildly when looking someone in the eyes? Or was it something that only happened when it was the most beautiful face in the kingdom gazing back at them?

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw that he seemed to want to say something too. They both remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first.

"You can go first" she said softly.

"No, you're a lady, you go" he insisted courteously.

"No, please, you tell me" she said, almost pleading with her eyes, though she wasn't exactly sure what she hoped to hear, still trying to understand the strange sensation in her chest.

"Tell me, please" he echoed at the same time, and they laughed again at the coincidence.

"You're my best friend" he exclaimed finally.

"You're my best friend" she replied, in perfect sync.

They laughed again, and as they truly heard each other's words, they smiled. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. At that moment, everything made sense to her. That special, innocent feeling, that pure joy, so complex yet so simple, was love. She didn't need to fully understand it to know it was real, and that it was reciprocated.

They lingered for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Aemond's eyes glowed with a tenderness that mirrored her own. Without needing more words, they leaned in slowly and shared a hug filled with affection and silent promises. The moonlight bathed the room, enveloping them in its silver glow. Every moment seemed magical, as if time had stopped just for them.

In that instant, in the tranquility of the night, they both knew that despite the challenges, they would always have that special bond that united them.

Finally, they settled comfortably under the covers, still close, their hearts beating in unison, and they embraced the serenity.

Once back in her room, she spent the day with Lyra again. If it were up to her, she would have spent the entire day with Aemond, but she knew he would break fast with his mother as usual. Later, he would be busy with his training, something that excited him especially now, with the anticipation of wielding a real sword, finally, as he had come of age for it.

At dusk, after writing to her mother and enjoying a hot bath, the woman helped her dress in the carefully chosen attire for the occasion. She opted for a flowing blue dress and some delicate jewelry. As Lyra began to brush her hair, preparing to style it up as she always did, she decided to change her mind.

Aemond had always praised her curls, often running his fingers through them in the night until he drifted off to sleep, and she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him to wear her hair loose, something she only did in the privacy of their rooms.

When she was almost ready, Lyra was about to accompany her to the hall where the feast would take place, but they heard soft knocks on the door. Few were the times someone sought out her room, so both were intrigued. Lyra walked towards the door and opened it, while she adjusted the sandals that complemented her dress. When she looked up, she found Aemond standing in front of her, looking at her in awe, with Lyra behind him, barely able to hide her huge smile biting her lower lip.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, they were not accustomed to being so close in front of other people, so she didn't know how to react, a little flustered with her lady-in-waiting standing there.

Aemond's hair was neatly tied back in a half ponytail. His left side was partly covered by the patch he wore during his training, and he was dressed in a handsome green suit.

"I’ve come to escort you, princess" he murmured shyly, mindful of the third presence. She smiled and nodded, walking towards him and taking his right arm.

"Happy nameday, my prince. May you both enjoy a good supper" Lyra chimed in, opening the door for them to leave.

"Thank you, my lady" Aemond replied courteously before walking out of the room.

Once out of the enthusiastic gaze, she squeezed his arm and looked at him. "Happy nameday, my prince."

He looked at her with a smile that radiated happiness as he guided her through the dimly lit corridors by torchlight, the sun already hidden. "Thank you, my princess." The next words seemed to come with a touch of adoration and nervousness. "You look beautiful tonight... well, you always do, but tonight especially so."

She responded with a grateful smile. "You look lovely too, as always, my prince." He smiled faintly, an expression that denoted a hint of skepticism, as if he couldn't quite believe all the compliments she gave him. As they walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, she broke the silence with a curious question. "What gifts have you received so far?"

With a gleam of joy in his eyes, he replied, "my grandsire had a new saddle made for Vhagar. It's magnificent." His voice filled with enthusiasm. "My mother gave me some ancient books from Oldtown, and she also surprised me with Daeron's visit. I barely remembered his face." She widened her eyes in surprise, vaguely recalling Daeron, who was her age and whom she had seen only once. "Helaena gave me a suit embroidered by herself, with two intertwined dragons" he said with palpable excitement, hoping it meant something. "And Viserys gave me a Valyrian steel sword, with a belt that also has space for a dagger. Aegon mentioned he would give me his present later" he concluded happily.

She smiled, glad that each gift sounded well thought out, just right for him, although still puzzled why he referred to his father by his name. As they finished their conversation, they found themselves standing in front of the imposing doors of the grand hall. Instinctively, both separated their arms as the guards opened the large doors, announcing their arrival.

The guests stood in the center of the hall, conversing animatedly, except for the king and the Hand, who were already seated. The queen approached them with a maternal smile and planted a kiss on her son's forehead. "We were waiting for you, my dearest" she said affectionately. Then, taking his hand to guide him to his seat, she turned to her. "Princess, we did not expect you. What a lovely surprise" she added with a smile.

She felt a small knot of uncertainty in her stomach, wondering if she was intruding, but Aemond wouldn't have sought her out if that were the case. She returned the queen's smile and noticed how she gestured to the servants, who quickly added a chair and tableware next to Helaena. Helaena smiled at her and, before she could greet her, moved towards that newly added chair, giving up her place directly in front of Aemond, which she appreciated. Perhaps Helaena wanted her to sit opposite her brother, or simply preferred not to be near Aegon, an understandable preference.

She sat down with a grateful smile, though still somewhat uncomfortable. The feast began, and musicians played cheerful ballads that filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Laughter and conversation flowed along the table, and she almost forgot how much she missed her family, caught up in the distraction of the moment. She noticed that the wine jug beside her needed refilling more often than others, and wondered how long it would be before Aegon spoiled the mood. He was fun and pleasant when sober, but she couldn't say the same when he was drunk.

"Princess, I heard you've been learning High Valyrian" said the king, smiling at her with somewhat weary eyes. She smiled happily at the question, and Aemond paid attention, interested in the conversation.

"Yes, your grace. Aemond has been an excellent instructor" she replied proudly.

"She is making incredible progress" Aemond added, shyly.

"I bet it comes easy to you, just like your mother" the king said, smiling before taking a sip of wine. Perhaps to an untrained eye, Aemond's slight disappointment might have gone unnoticed, but she saw it, and understood why. She couldn't blame the king for loving his daughter so much, as her mother was a splendid person, but she felt sorry that he didn't see the fortune in having Helaena and Aemond, who were just as intelligent and kind.

"With Aemond as my guide, it's only natural for me to learn quickly, your grace" she said, smiling at Aemond. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the king looked pleased with the response, nodding before moving on to another conversation. Aegon's raised eyebrows and mischievous smile did not go unnoticed.

Helaena was showing her a figure she always carried, a wooden butterfly that Viserys had given her when she was a baby. She wondered if maybe that was the origin of her fascination with insects. As they continued talking, she felt an unfamiliar finger tangle in one of her curls, pulling it lightly. It was Aegon, who was looking at her hair with mocking attention.

"The Arryn blood is strong, is it not, niece?" he said sarcastically, and in a low voice, ensuring the king did not hear.

She tensed at the comment, and Helaena looked at Aegon disapprovingly. Her body stiffened, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In that moment, she inwardly cursed herself for not wearing black and for wearing her hair loose, proudly displaying her curls. Aegon simply removed his finger and engaged in another conversation, losing interest in teasing her, but she couldn't return to her previous state.

Helaena gently squeezed her hand, offering a small supportive smile, but it did little to calm her. Aemond didn't seem to hear the remark, for which she was thankful.

She felt more alone than ever, like an uninvited guest in a place she once called home. And she came to understand her siblings' anger at such insults, not to the same extent, of course, but she did.

The rest of the dinner passed without further incidents. Some guests joined in a lively dance once the meal was over, and laughter was heard in the hall as the wine continued to flow.

Aemond glanced at her several times, concerned about her obvious discomfort. She didn't want to spoil his celebration, so she tried to offer a reassuring smile whenever their eyes met.

She found herself caught up in various pleasant conversations with the other nobles present, mostly with Daeron, who was her same age, and Heleana. She tried to keep away from Aegon as much as possible. Aemond, on his part, approached her on several occasions, rescuing her from the dull talks of the elders. He tried to distract her with amusing anecdotes from his training or asked her about stories of dragons, which she knew by heart. Though her mind was elsewhere, she appreciated his efforts to make her feel comfortable and protected.

Finally, as the feast began to wind down into the night, Aemond approached her with determination in his eyes.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk through the gardens? The night is beautiful" he suggested.

She smiled, grateful for the chance to get away from the bustle. "I would love to, my prince."

Together, they left the main hall and made their way to the quiet gardens of the castle. The moon shone above them, illuminating their flowers lined path as they walked silently along. Aemond seemed less tense now, more relaxed under the starry sky, offering her his arm courteously.

"I'm sorry if anything made you uncomfortable tonight" Aemond finally said, breaking the silence. "I hope nothing else happened" he murmured, a slight concern in his eyes.

She shook her head gently, feeling comforted by his worry. "It's not your fault, Aemond. I'm fine. Just... I'm not used to being without my family."

He nodded, looking at her with understanding. "I know. And I know sometimes people can be... thoughtless" he said, almost apologizing again.

They walked a bit further in silence before she found the courage to speak about what she was really thinking. "Do you ever feel that way, Aemond?" she hesitated for a moment. "Like you don't quite fit in?"

He stopped and looked at her directly, uncertain. His eyes, under the full moon and clear sky, seemed deeper, more reflective, sadder at her question. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, "but when I'm with you, princess, everything seems to fall into place. I do hope you feel the same."

Her heart skipped at his sincere words, feeling a twinge of guilt for longing to return to her family. "Thank you, Aemond. Should we head back? It's getting chilly."

He smiled, softening his features. "Yes."

They continued walking together, enjoying the peace and serenity of the night. As they progressed, leaving the gardens behind and climbing the keep stairs, she said, "I hope you've enjoyed your day, my prince." He nodded. Once they reached the hallway they shared, she whispered: "Should I visit you tonight?"

"Of course" he replied naturally, offering a comforting smile.

"You said Aegon would bring your gift, I wouldn't want to arrive at an inopportune moment" she said, reminding him.

He nodded, realizing he had forgotten his earlier conversation with his brother. "You're right. Maybe I should come instead. I can come right after he leaves" he suggested, and she eagerly agreed to the plan.

When they finally stood in front of the door, with no one in sight, her hands began to sweat nervously. It was just a temporary farewell, like countless others before, so she didn't understand why her body felt so restless, or why her heart was pounding so hard. And why were her thoughts centered on whether kissing him would ease her mind?

Before pushing the door, she turned to him, catching Aemond’s smile, oblivious to her internal doubts. "May I, perhaps, try something?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted any signals.

He arched an eyebrow, curious at her question, but nodded in consent. Without further ado, she took a step forward and, with determination, closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips gently against his, all her questions melting away in that fleeting moment. She closed her eyes, unable to see Aemond's initial surprise.

When they parted, Aemond's face was flushed, his eye wide with astonishment, causing a flutter of concern in her chest. Before she could apologize, he mirrored her action, leaning in and returning the innocent kiss. This time, both closed their eyes, letting themselves be carried away by the moment as their hands instinctively intertwined.

As they pulled away, shy but content smiles graced their faces. The special discovery left them breathless.

"Goodnight" she whispered, a thrilling buzz inside her.

"Goodnight" he replied with equal softness and carrying the same exhilaration.

Once inside, the room was again in perfect order, something she was thankful for. Aemond always seemed to value the organization and she wanted him to feel like in his own space. Peaceful, comfortable, happy. Her chambers were perfectly illuminated by the moon and the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

She walked to the door she used every night, leaving it slightly ajar, then shed her dress, donning her nightgown and slipping immediately into bed. She tried to immerse herself in the book on her nightstand, but her mind kept returning to the shared kiss. Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she wondered if it had also been Aemond's first time. She hoped it was.

Soon she realized it was futile to try to distract herself with the book. Her heart still raced, and her mind was full of questions and anticipations. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still as she waited for Aemond to arrive. She was worried, fearing she had ruined everything with her impulsiveness. Or worse, that Aemond had changed his mind after that.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, her head swirling with thoughts, and she fell asleep hoping everything would be okay between them.

The sun stung her face as she began to wake, the warmth of the morning enveloping her. There were faint noises in the room, but still too sleepy to make them out, she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, her eyes flew wide open and she sat up abruptly. The bed was empty, but the secondary door remained open, an invitation to scolding from her lady-in-waiting.

Lyra soon noticed she was awake. With a sorrowful expression, she approached the bed slowly and sat beside her. The princess's gaze searched for answers, but none of her assumptions came close to the reality.

"A raven has arrived today from Dragonstone, my princess..." Lyra began softly, choosing her words carefully. She nodded, attentive and anxious to know more, urging her to continue. "Your father, Prince Leanor, has passed away" she announced.

With those words, the princess's entire world shattered once more in an instant. Tears began to cascade uncontrollably, unleashed without any permission, but she knew it was only a matter of time, a storm that had been brewing finally erupted. Her overwhelming feelings of longing for her family and the unsettling sense of being like a stranger in the castle where she had grown up intensified her anguish even more. Guilt and regret gnawed at her, constricting her chest and stealing the air in her lungs. Lyra tried to soothe her, urging her to breathe, but it was in vain.

So many moons spent in the Red Keep, precious time lost with her father that could never be reclaimed. Now, with the loss irreversible, she couldn't even seek answers about how it happened, the trauma of Harwin Strong's death still raw. Her chest tightened, heaving, as her mind spun relentlessly, refusing to accept what her ears had heard.

Lyra enveloped her in protective arms, a bulwark against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her as the harsh news unfolded before her. "We must leave immediately, there is a ship waiting for us" she murmured softly, aware of the princess's magnitude of pain, but to the urgency of the situation too.

Tears continued to flow unabated as she nodded, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of loss and guilt that engulfed her. She allowed herself to be consumed by it while Lyra hurriedly guided and helped her dress. Once ready, servants entered to assist with the luggage, moving efficiently as those who understood the gravity of the moment, and Lyra asked her to wait while she gathered her own belongings.

When the lady disappeared from her sight, she, with a pounding heart, hurried to Aemond's room. Upon arrival, Queen Alicent was just stepping out, her face a mask of concern and sorrow.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, princess" she said with palpable sincerity in her voice, closing the door behind her, but condolences were a luxury she could not afford now. She needed to see if everything was okay with Aemond before leaving, the thought of departing without clarity on their relationship or at least a farewell filled her with unease.

"Is Aemond awake? I wish to see him" she implored softly, tears silently streaming down her face. People passed around her—members of the council, servants—all casting sympathetic glances that went unnoticed.

"He does not wish to receive visitors at the moment" the queen replied firmly.

"But it is urgent" she insisted, desperation seeping into her voice. She tried to move past her and grasp the door handle, her hands trembling but determined, but the queen stopped her.

"I'm very sorry, princess, but you must understand" Alicent said, her tone unyielding.

On the brink of collapse, with each passing second more overwhelming than the last, she pleaded, "please" but received only refusals.

Moments later, Lyra appeared carrying a suitcase, hurrying towards her. "My princess, we must depart now" she said, after offering a courtesy to Alicent.

"But I need to see Aemond" she insisted, her voice a desperate whisper. Lyra looked to Alicent silently pleading for a concession, searching for a shred of sympathy, but the queen remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on the princess.

"We can exchange letters by ravens, yes? But the ship will depart soon, princess" Lyra said, her words weighted by both empathy and urgency.

She felt frustration and helplessness engulf her, on the verge of shouting in rage. With no other choice, she took Lyra's hand and let herself be led away, each step a battle against the hopelessness that surrounded her.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

Last part from her POV as kids!

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fluff #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic

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naughtyneganjdm · 14 days ago

Text

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 18

Summary: When his laptop starts giving him shit, Joel asks for Y/N's help to fix it which leads to her snooping on it against her better judgement. Wanting to be a better man, Joel goes to Negan to apologize and be more open with him which leads to Joel accepting to be the man he was never allowed to be.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/157394716 Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, Smut, m/m sex scene, bottom!Joel, Top!Negan, etc.

Notes: My schedule is all fucked up with this story and I'm sorry for that! I obviously won't finish it before Christmas, but I will do my best. This chapter has a m/m sex scene in it. So, putting that out there! You can choose to ignore it if you like. Thanks for reading!

Even though she enjoyed having the time to spend with those that she cared about, there were certain days where Y/N regretted taking as much vacation time as she did from work. Having a busy mind would help her get through the days that she was alone, but since she never took any time off during the year, this was more of a forced time off. Regardless, she had still logged into work today to see if there was anything she could help with. Considering she was all alone today, she didn’t think it would be much of a problem. Joel had a meeting with a potential client, Negan had something to do and the children were with their friends.

Earlier in the day, Joel had come to her in a panic before his meeting because his computer had frozen on him. Joel was convinced it had something to do with the e-mails that he received after he went viral with Negan in New York. Part of him worried that someone had sent him a virus of some kind because they hated Negan. And while that was a possibility, she was certain that Joel’s computer was just giving him shit. It was older. While things were still ill at ease between them with what happened, Joel had stressed to her how worried he was because he had all of his important files and contacts saved on there. Along with photos and videos of the children. He was afraid of losing them, so she offered to help him.

Joel was never really good with technology and she worked on computers all the time, so she really didn’t see it as a big deal. When things went wrong with work at home, she was the only person for the most part that could be IT and fix things herself. So while she was working on something for work, she had been running a system restore point for Joel. And she had also promised to get him a portable hard drive to help him put all of his files onto it so he didn’t lose them.

While she wanted to be mad at Joel, she couldn’t be. Even if she wanted to. Multiple times he texted her and she’d respond. Today was just the first day that they spoke face to face. And while he had a meeting that he had to go to, it didn’t stop Joel from attempting to talk to her about everything. Apologizing multiple times for what he had done the other night at the Christmas Fest when he was drunk. The amount of times he apologized was quite extensive. It was all he could really focus on. How sorry he was. It seemed to really upset him what he had done. He had stressed to her multiple times how much he loved her. How he wanted to do everything right and make her happy. How he wanted to be a better version of himself. Several times he promised her that he wanted them to be close and work on their relationship together.

When his phone went off with Tommy asking him where he was, Joel had to run off. And she promised him by the time that he got back she would have everything handled with his computer. By the time she was done with what she needed to do for work, she returned to Joel’s laptop and it seemed like the system restore point had worked.

From all their years together, she knew Joel’s password was Peter’s name and Elizabeth’s birthday in numerical form. Making sure that the computer was working, she logged into it and was happy to see that it was opening normally. As everything loaded, she realized the folder that he had open was family videos. A video was already open and curiosity got the best of her. Hitting the play button made her smile when she realized that it was a family video from Christmas time of them together.

A sense of awe flooded her veins over the fact that was the last video that Joel was watching before his computer decided to give him shit. Closing up the video, she grabbed the portable hard drive and started to copy some of his family videos onto it so he wouldn’t lose them. Actually, it was pretty cute how many family videos he did have on his computer. Ranging as far back as Elizabeth being a baby. She could see why these were so important to Joel.

While that folder was copying, she went back to his overall videos folder. Joel wasn’t very good with naming things. He was the complete opposite of her. Also opening his photos folder, she felt her throat tighten seeing that some of the first few photos she noticed were Joel and Tess together. They had broken up a while ago, yet Joel still had photos of them together on his computer. Then again, she knew Joel was messy with how he kept things. Dragging his photos folder onto the hard drive, she dropped that down and then went back to looking at his video folder. Clicking on a random folder, she opened a video that was inside of it and let out a tense breath when she realized what it was.

A nervous sound escaped her lips with her looking over her shoulder to make sure that she had turned her computer off so there was no way that her camera was on. When she made sure it was off, she let out a relieved sound and looked to Joel’s laptop again. Stretched out on the bed in the video was a younger version of herself very much naked laying on their bed. It immediately clicked with her that this was one of their personal, naughty videos that they had done together that Joel had assured her that he would delete.

Maybe she should have stopped, but she was watching the video with her heart hammering inside of her chest. A much younger Joel walked into the screen wearing only a pair of light-colored jeans. In the past, Joel was always very much turned on by taking videos of them having sex. It was a kink of his and she was starting to realize that he hadn’t gotten over it. In the video Joel was going down on her with her cries filling the air. Watching closely, she felt her body tensing up when Joel shed his pants and she realized this was one of their romantic sexual moments. While she got the appeal of the videos, considering they had children that were smart, Y/N didn’t know how safe it was to keep these.

Closing that video and opening another, she felt her face flushing over with heat when she realized it was a video of her giving a blowjob to Joel from his perspective. Quickly closing the video, she felt her face getting hot that he kept all of these. Opening another one, she saw Joel laying over her with her face down on the bed. Joel was setting the camera up on the nightstand before returning to her. When he had the camera the way he wanted, the younger version of Joel smiled and crawled back in over her. His hand curled around her throat pulling her head back while his other hand reached between them to lead his hard cock into her. A loud smacking sound filled the air with Joel filling her and she felt her body getting hot at what she was watching. Unlike the first one, this was pure filth in terms of the kind of sex that they were having.

Honestly? She probably should have stopped there, but she didn’t. Opening video after video of the things that Joel had kept between them. Stopping on one, she realized it was one that was toward the end of the part of their marriage before Joel started to grow cold with her. The video was better probably because Joel was so used to doing the videos. You saw everything in this video. Which mortified her. What if one of the children went on his computer and saw this?

“Look at me,” Joel demanded, his fingers grabbing a tight hold of Y/N’s jaw in the video while their loud, broken breaths continued. The smacking sounds of their skin filled the video while Joel kissed her. Joel’s forehead pressed to hers with a big smile expanding over his features. “I love you.”

There were two thoughts going on in her mind right now. Panic if the children had ever seen this and the other was her wondering what it was that made Joel fall out of love with her not long after. Because in this video? The way that Joel looked at her took her breath away. He was obsessed with her back then. Hooked on her and always wanting to touch her, kiss her and be with her.

“You need to stop,” she huffed to herself, scrolling through the same folder. Truthfully? There were so many videos that they took together that she couldn’t believe she even allowed him to do it in the first place. It was a vast array of things that they had done since they were together. Yes, some of them did get her hot and bothered, but she didn’t know if it was a bad or a good thing that it did.

Part of her was worried that going through the videos she would find something of him and Tess together. But the more she scrolled, the more she began to realize that there was nothing. Which was strange because that was one of Joel’s biggest kinks when they were together. Deep down she had mentally prepared herself to see videos that Joel had done with Tess, yet there were none.

Confusion flooded her veins with just how happy she felt to know that he didn’t have any. Why she felt that way was beyond her. And she was embarrassed to admit that it did make her so fucking happy.

Sliding in closer, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the images realizing the date on one of the videos was toward the end of their marriage. In the thumbnail all she saw that it was Joel and she opened the video up.

“I reckon you’ve been lonely lately and I thought that maybe this would help you,” Joel’s southern drawl filled the air and it had her leaning back into the chair.

This was a new one for her, one she had never seen before. But it was certainly when she was still married to Joel because he had his wedding ring on. Sitting forward in the chair he was in, Joel tugged at the blue t-shirt that he was wearing. Tossing it aside, Joel leaned forward in the chair dragging his fingers across his chiseled jawline. A laugh fell from her throat when Joel flexed his bicep in the video drawing attention to his muscular form. Standing up, Joel stepped back so the camera got just to the top of his head and to his mid thighs. Back then, Joel was in a little better of a shape than he was now with v-line leading toward the top of his pants. Maybe this was something that he made for her in the past but never sent her because they had gotten in a fight. Back then, Joel was a little more arrogant with his body. She definitely remembered those days with Joel palming up over his chiseled abdomen toward his chest. Caressing at it, Joel lowered his hands and dropped them over the belt that he was wearing. This was his way of being seductive and it made her laugh again the way he dragged his fingers across the belt. Tugging it open, Joel took his time opening his jeans and slightly tugging it down over his hips. In the movement, he took his boxer down with it revealing the dark curls of hair right above the base of his cock in a teasing moment.

Turning around in the video, Joel pushed his pants down over his ass to reveal it. Maybe she was wrong for watching it, but since she was married to him at the time, she really didn’t see what the big deal was. Through the video, Joel focused on flexing a little bit before turning to face the camera again. By the time he pushed his pants down fully, his cock bounced with the movement and it made her sigh. Joel jerked off standing up for a bit in the video before adjusting the camera so he could sit back down in the chair and continue.

Back then, she was completely head over heels for him. Back then? Who the fuck was she kidding? She was always going to be head over heels for Joel. So watching these videos was wrong on her part especially since she knew that they would have some kind of effect on her. Really she should have been more mortified than she was that he kept these videos.

At the end, cum was covering Joel’s chest and abdomen with an arrogant smile tugging at his lips. Joel reached for a tissue and cleaned himself up before sliding in closer to the camera to flash a sheepish smile, “I hope you enjoyed that Lucille, it’ll give you something to keep you hot while Negan is gone.”

Suddenly, she leaned forward to stop the video after hearing that bit, “What the fuck?”

Realizing that Joel had his e-mails open and his phone messaging was connected to the computer, Y/N felt a sense of rage flooding her veins. Opening the e-mails, she realized that Lucille’s e-mails were already loaded in the search bar. Snooping was beneath her, but she felt overwhelmed seeing what she just did. Going through the emails, most of them were them just talking. In some of them, he talked very highly about Y/N, but in others he said really awful things about her to Lucille. It seemed like two miserable people in marriages where they needed a friend to talk to. But she did eventually find e-mails of them flirting with one another. What seemed like was originally innocent, turned to e-mails with occasional sexting. But eventually it seemed like things stopped.

If he was doing this with Lucille…suddenly Y/N’s heart sank. Typing in Tess’s name, she found the e-mails that Joel had with her realizing that his e-mails with her were also very sexual during their separation. Upset flooded her body and she knew that it was wrong, but she dived deeper into things opening up Joel’s text messages that were connected to Joel’s phone.

Opening up his messages with Tess, she acknowledged that the last time that Joel wrote her was months ago.

Can we talk please?

That came from Joel after they broke up. Part of her wondered if it wasn’t a mutual thing with them breaking up.

Scrolling through a few things, the last message she saw came from Tess.

Goodbye Joel. You’re still hooked on your ex-wife. Nothing you can say can change my mind. You’re always talking about her. Comparing me to her. Your heart knows what you want. So does mine. I can see why your marriage ended with Y/N if you were as cold with her as you were me.

Pushing away from the table that Joel’s laptop was on, she didn’t know how to respond to everything that she had seen. Tensing up, the sound of the door opening was heard and she looked back over her shoulder to see that it was Joel entering the house with a big bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of take out in the other.

“I know you wanted me to ditch the keys, but this was a good day with work,” Joel started to ramble, closing the door with his heel. “I figured I would get us something to celebrate and hoped we could talk. I picked up the Chinese food that you like and…”

Joel’s smile faded when he saw the expression that was over her face and he let out a nervous breath, “What’s wrong?”

Noticing that the laptop was on, Joel nodded toward it and tipped his head to the side, “Did you figure out everything with the computer?”

“I did,” she answered, folding her arms out in front of her chest. Lowering the flowers at his side, Joel was attempting to read her expression. “I started putting your files onto a separate hard drive so you didn’t lose them.”

“Thank you,” Joel muttered, his head shaking from side to side. “Why are you looking at me like that? I know that expression all too well. It’s been quite some years since I’ve seen it.”

“You left a lot of shit open Joel,” she explained with him setting the flowers and the food down on the coffee table that was in front of the couch. “And maybe I got to snooping. First of all, I thought you promised me when we were together that you would delete all of our sex videos. Yet, I found them. Very easily in your videos folder.”

“Oh,” Joel’s face went red, his chocolate-colored eyes lowering down to the floor. “I just, I uh, I liked those so much that I had a hard time letting them go. I’ve actually watched a few of them lately when I was alone because…”

“Our children aren’t stupid. What if they found the videos Joel?” she snapped at him and it had Joel exhaling loudly. “Joel?”

“They know better than to go snooping on my computer Y/N. It’s my work computer. They both have access to their own computers. They wouldn’t have found it,” Joel assured her, but she wasn’t sure that was the case. It was so easy to get a hold of that anyone could have found the videos. “I never shared them anywhere else. They are just on my computer and…”

“How about you jerking off for Lucille?” Y/N snarled and the expression Joel made looked like he had been hit in the gut with her mentioning that. “While we were married none the less.”

“I…that was…” Joel’s stuttered, his voice growing deeper when he was trying to respond to her with something he could say. “I didn’t…it was…”

“You can’t lie Joel. I did the wrong fucking thing and went through your e-mails,” she was honest with Joel who moved over toward the edge of the couch to sit down on the arm of it. Slouching forward, Joel looked like he was going to be sick. “The two of you were pretty much having an affair.”

“No, no,” Joel was quick to deny her claim, throwing her hands up in the air. “I never had sex with Lucille. Ever. We just talked sometimes and that was it.”

“You sent her a video of you masturbating Joel. I read the e-mails of you two sexting each other,” she threw her hand back toward the computer knowing that she was getting worked up over everything that she found. “We were married and you were still doing that shit. Yet you swore up and down that you never cheated on me!”

“I didn’t!” Joel defended himself, his chest aching with being caught for something he did over four years ago. “I never, ever had sex with anyone while we were married. I fucking swear. All that stuff on the internet was innocent. I never acted on it. Yeah, I sent some photos or some videos, but I swear I never had sex with anyone. You can’t think I did that because…”

“What does it matter if you didn’t fuck anyone while we were married?” she screamed back at Joel noticing the color that was pressing over Joel’s cheeks. “You got divorced so you could. You were desperate to get your dick wet by someone else and you did. And that’s why you divorced me. Now you have and you realized no one is going to put up with you like I did. No one is going to…” she paused, a saddened sound falling from her throat. Lowering her head, she felt her breathing broken and she shook her head. “No one is going to love you like I do.”

“Now that’s not fair,” Joel claimed, throwing his hand up in the air, his face scrunching up at her anger toward him. “I did some fucked up things toward the end of our marriage, but this was four years ago. I’m not the same man.”

“I know, but I just learned this Joel,” she let out something that resembled a sob and she lowered her head hating that she was getting emotional over her breaking into someone else’s private files. “I read the things you said about me to Lucille. You really did hate me.”

“I was very confused back then, but I never hated you,” Joel claimed, his raspy voice growing nervous since he was hoping to work on their relationship, yet she was doing nothing but learning about the worst parts of him from so long ago. “Please, don’t judge me for what I did back then. I know that what I did was wrong, but you have to realize that we were kids when we got together. Your teens and your twenties are when you are supposed to go nuts. Try things. Instead, I was busy being a dad. I only had sex with a few people before we got together and I thought I was missing out on things. I just…”

“You were my first Joel and I was never with anyone else,” she interrupted him, tears burning at her eyes having Joel trying to excuse what he had done. “Yet you didn’t see me desperate to go and fuck other people because I wanted to experience life.”

“You’re right. I was wrong and I see that now,” Joel agreed with her desperate to have her understand that he wasn’t like that anymore. “I know what I did was wrong. So wrong. But please understand that I’m not that man anymore. Other than Negan, the only person that I’ve been around or even interacted with is you. I don’t have that urge anymore. I had chances to sleep with other people, but I won’t take it because I want to be with you. And…Negan. I want us to work out something with the three of us.”

“I know you’re not that person Joel,” she alerted him having Joel get anxious about the way she was responding to all of this. “But what you were doing with Tess and Lucille was cheating.”

“By sending photos and videos?” Joel visibly didn’t believe that was cheating. “When we were married I never touched another woman. And I didn’t send anything to Tess until after we were separated. I didn’t cheat on you.”

“But you wanted to,” she focused on the idea of it finding herself heart broken once more by everything that she read and saw. “I think Negan would kill you if he read what I did. If he saw what I saw.”

“I agree,” Joel acknowledged with a disappointed breath. “I was stupid Y/N. What I did was wrong. But I see that now. I stopped talking to Lucille after you and I got divorced. I regret it because she was the one real friend I probably had. Those things...those things you saw were just a small part of us being bored. Did you see her last e-mail? Because that’s what our friendship was really like. We didn’t want to fuck or have sex. We were just two friends that understood each other and what the other was feeling. But then the last e-mail she wrote me, it said everything.”

“Joel, I don’t…” she was going to refuse him, but Joel got up and moved around her to open up the last video that Lucille sent him. Forcing her to watch it by turning her chair to look at the laptop. Instead of fighting Joel like she wanted to, she watched the video and he could tell that it was making her emotional. When it ended, Joel sat on the edge of the table in front of her.

“We really were just friends. You see she loved Negan and she knew I loved you,” Joel insisted going to reach out to touch her, but he reconsidered it with how upset she had been over finding everything and instead lowered his hand down at his side. “I feel horrible. I feel this terrible sense of guilt because I abandoned her and I was the one person she had been open to throughout everything. I knew that she had cancer and I never responded to that e-mail Y/N. I didn’t even see it until the other night. I dropped the ball on everything. I was an asshole and I hate the person that I became. I loved you, I hurt you and I hurt one of my only real friends.”

“I don’t even know what to say right now Joel,” she confessed to him being disappointed with the things that she learned. “You always played yourself like you were a certain kind of person and you weren’t. Back then I was so head over heels in love with you and you meant everything to me. I made you so miserable and…”

“I want to go to therapy,” Joel announced, caressing his hands in over his thighs getting her to lift her saddened eyes to his. “I want to be better for you, I want to be a better friend to Negan. I made so many mistakes and I hate it. I want to make things better, be better for all of you.”

“I don’t know,” she frowned lowering her head and he could hear that she was crying. “I need some time Joel.”

“Y/N? I’m not that guy anymore,” Joel threw his hand toward the computer seeing that she had opened his text messages with Tess so she saw their last interaction together. “You can see that you are it for me. That I have been so hooked on you that even Tess saw it. I love you. I love you so fucking much and…”

“I know Joel!” she yelled at him, getting him to lean back and swallow down hard again. “I know all of this. And right now? You should be furious with me for invading your privacy because I was wrong. I was so wrong to do that to you. And I don’t even know why I’m so fucking upset because we’re not married anymore. I’m not your wife. You’re not my husband. So this shouldn’t upset me like it does.”

“It upsets you because you love me,” Joel reasoned with her, outstretching his hands to cup her face in them tenderly. “I love you Y/N. And you love me. We’re soulmates and nothing we do is going to change that. That’s why it hurts so much. The two of us need to talk. I’ve been thinking really hard about the whole idea of the three of us being together and I…”

“Joel,” she laughed, holding her hand up in the air to stop him from continuing on. “That’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“You don’t want that?” Joel frowned, his chest aching at the thought of her no longer wanting to be around him because of what he caused. “I thought you wanted to be with both of us. I thought you loved me and him…”

“I do,” she whimpered, getting up from the desk chair to move over toward the couch to sit down. “It’s just right now I’m not okay. I just learned that the person that I was married to wasn’t the man he led me to believe that he was and it doesn’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry,” Joel moved forward to get on his knees before her, giving her a pleading expression when her eyes finally connected with him. “Please understand that I hate the man that I was. I hate the man that I’ve been…but I know what I am now. I know how I feel about things. And I love you more than anything in this world. Other than our children of course. There is something I need to talk to you about from when I was younger. I haven’t told anyone about it and I only just told Tommy, but I think if you let me talk to you about it, you’ll understand some things about me and why I am so broken. Why…”

“I need time Joel,” she restated with a frown, lowering her head into her hand and it had her letting out a tremoring breath. “I just need to think about things, okay?”

“Y/N, please? Let us just talk things out,” Joel begged of her again, his hands grabbing a tender hold of hers. “If there is one thing I’ve realized lately it is how much I truly, genuinely love you. How my world only feels complete when you’re in it. Nothing means anything to me when I don’t have you by my side. I could have all my dreams come true from when I was a kid, but it wouldn’t matter if you weren’t there with me because I’m miserable without you. I’m sorry it took what it did for me to realize just how much you really meant to me.”

Dipping forward, Joel attempted to kiss her, but she was quick to place her hand in over the center of his chest to stop him, “I love you too Joel. And I appreciate the things that you are saying, but right now, I need some time to myself. I promise you I won’t snoop any further on your computer. I’ll let everything run and when it’s done I will make sure everything is safe. Your computer will be ready for tomorrow. Okay?”

“Y/N?” he whispered her name again wishing it wasn’t going down like this. “You’re more important than my computer. You understand that, right? It could be broken for all I fucking care because you mean more to me than anything on that computer.”

“Joel, I love you,” she claimed, her hand outstretching to caress down over the side of his face. “And you’re right. I do have to acknowledge that you aren’t the man you used to be. And I think it’s brave that you want to get help. If I’m willing to accept that Negan is a different man than he used to be, I have to be willing to accept that you are too. And I see that you are. I’m not kicking you out of my life. I want to talk to you. I want us to talk. And I’m not saying no to things, I’m just saying right now I need time to think. I can’t remember the last time I got to be alone and just think things out. And I need that.”

“I was really hoping the two of us could have dinner together and we could talk. About us and maybe our future?” Joel reasoned with her having her frown and bite down on her bottom lip. “Trust me when I tell you that being alone is the worst thing to be when you are upset because you think the worst things. Alone you are going to think negative things about my feelings for you, but I need you to know that I am a very fucked up person. I am very confused about all the emotions and the feelings that I have had. But the only thing I’m one hundred percent sure of is that you are the purest thing I’ve ever had in my life. My feelings for you? How much you mean to me. That’s the only thing I understand. How much I love you. I fight this war in my head of whether or not I’m good enough for you and the simple answer is that I’m not. I’m not good enough for you. But you are the only person that makes me want to do better. You are the only person that I want to be the best version of myself for. There are parts of me that I have hidden my whole life, things I’m not comfortable with, but I’m open to letting them shine through if I have you in my life. You are the realest thing I’ve ever known in my life. Even when nothing makes sense, the only thing that does make sense to me is you. And I know I’m just talking a whole lot right now and I reckon I’m upsetting you, but I know that the good parts of me? The parts worth keepin’? They are there because of you. I need you to know that. I can’t have you thinking otherwise. You can’t keep hurting yourself and thinkin’ things that aren’t true. I’ll give you what you want and I’ll leave. But please don’t keep beating yourself up because I can’t leave knowing that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Joel,” she slid forward on the couch, her fingers brushing into his dark hair. With a weak smirk, she leaned in to bring their lips together in a faint kiss that took his breath away when she pulled slightly back. “I hear everything you’re saying. I do.”

“Okay,” Joel frowned, his thumb dragging out across her bottom lip with sadness flooding into his big brown eyes. “Just promise me you won’t hurt yourself with your thoughts. Because I’m the biggest culprit in doing that and it does nothing good.”

“I promise we can talk about whatever it is you want to talk about,” she almost naturally kissed at the pad of his thumb having Joel suck in a sharp breath of air. “I just need some alone time right now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel whispered, lifting up enough to press a lingering kiss against her face. Caressing at the back of her neck, Joel tipped back slightly to gaze down at her. Pressing one final tender kiss over her lips, Joel got up and pointed over toward the food and flowers. “That’s for you. Whenever you want it you can have it.”

Joel headed for the door, but stopped when he grabbed a hold of the door handle, “You are perfect. You were always perfect. And I did have an amazing life. A life people could only dream of having. The perfect wife. I wish I would have never hurt you like I did because you deserved nothing but love. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hide anything from you anymore. I will never be that person again. I swear.”

Heading for the door, Joel grabbed a hold of it and stopped when she called out to him, “I understand you want to be honest, but don’t tell Negan what happened between you and Lucille, okay? I don’t think he could handle it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel swallowed down hard regretting that he let it get to that place so long ago. “Thank you for not wanting me dead.”

A tense exhale fell from Y/N since Joel knew he’d probably die if Negan knew what had happened in the past. Giving Joel a nod, she slid back on the couch and pulled her legs up to her chest to hug them close, “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she replied back taking his breath away when he gave her a half-smirk. “If you ever question that Joel Miller, then you don’t have your head on straight.”

“I question it sometimes,” Joel smirked, lifting up to grasp at his jaw appreciating that he made her smile with his response. Sadness still lingered in her eyes and he knew that he couldn’t fix it right now. He just had to do for her what she asked from him and give her time. That was the best he could do.

----

This was a stupid idea and Joel knew it. Standing in the middle of a snowstorm, waiting for the door to be answered was a far shot. Especially after what he did and said. At this point he had knocked several times and rang the doorbell once.

Clinging to the bag at his side, he started to realize that his nose and ears felt like they were going to freeze off. It was cold and even though he had his jacket on, it wasn’t doing much to keep him warm. One final ring. That’s what Joel told himself. Truthfully? He should have left already, but he didn’t.

When no one came, Joel huffed loudly and felt ashamed of himself. There was some sense of hope that this would go well, but now he was just someone standing out on the porch waiting for someone that was never going to open up to him.

Turning on his heel, Joel stepped down from the porch only to hear the sound of a front door being pulled open. Looking back over his shoulder, Joel felt his throat tightening at the sight of a soaked Negan standing before him in a pair of athletic pants, holding a black t-shirt at his side. Water was dripping from his hair and he looked flustered.

“Before you say anything,” Joel spoke up, approaching Negan while he took his time putting on his t-shirt. Which only made sense since he was standing in the doorway soaking wet during the middle of a snowstorm. “I know you likely don’t want to see me, but…I’m sorry. I was an asshole. A big one.”

Slicking back his hair, Negan leaned against the doorframe and then folded his arms out in front of his chest waiting for whatever it was that Joel was going for. Lifting the bag that was in his hand had Negan’s eyes lowering to look down at it.

“I came with a peace offering,” Joel commented noticing that Negan was still silently eyeing him over now instead of the bag. Sighing loudly, Joel wondered if Y/N had called Negan and told him what happened. Maybe they talked and he learned what an asshole he had been previously. Dropping the bag down at his side, Joel released a disappointed sound and nodded back toward his truck. “I guess I’ll just leave.”

Turning away, Joel heard a whistling sound drawing him to look back again. Wiggling his fingers gesturing for Joel to follow him, Negan stepped back inside of his rental home. Carefully moving back up the sidewalk, Joel headed into the house and closed the door behind him. Negan was already at the fireplace setting a fire to warm the place up.

“I just got home and I was taking a shower,” Negan informed Joel, not even bothering to look back at Joel while he worked on the fireplace. “By how much snow you are covered in, I assume you were out there a long fucking time before you decided to ring the bell.”

Staying quiet, Joel brushed his fingers through his hair realizing that he was in fact covered in snow still. Getting up with a grunt, Negan moved across the room and motioned Joel to turn around. Allowing Negan to take his jacket off, Negan went and set his coat to dry.

“Why don’t you sit by the fire and warm up?” Negan offered, holding his hand out toward the seat that was there, but Joel simply just lifted the bag to suggest that he had something else.

“The offering might melt,” Joel explained having Negan roll his eyes and motion him toward the kitchen. Following Negan into the kitchen, Joel set the bags on the counter. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet,” Negan responded with a huff, leaning against the counter with Joel pulling something out of the bag. Holding one of the cans out to Negan had a confused smile tugging at Negan’s lips. “Canned ravioli?”

“We used to eat it all the time when we were younger,” Joel reminded Negan with Negan reading over the label of the can of food. He didn’t know why, but Joel was nervous. “I remember us eating it all the time growing up.”

“We were poor as fuck,” Negan snorted, clinging tightly to the can of food. Moving over toward the cabinets to grab two bowls for them, Negan set them down on the counter. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these, but sure? Why not?”

“There’s something else,” Joel motioned Negan to wait after he grabbed the can and returned it to the bag. Pulling the next item out of the bag, Joel turned on his heel, holding out the ice cream that he had bought. Accepting the ice cream, Negan looked it over with the lines in his forehead growing. “I know that offering you ice cream in the middle of a snowstorm seems kind of stupid right now, but…”

“This was Lucille’s favorite,” Negan commented, swallowing down hard and lifting his hazel eyes to stare out at Joel. There was an emotion that Joel couldn’t read with Negan staring out at him.

“It was,” Joel exhaled loudly, with Negan’s confusion flooding his face. “I thought maybe we could eat the Chef Boyardee and then afterwards have some ice cream to remember Lucille. Together.”

“Of course you know her favorite ice cream,” Negan frowned, setting the ice cream down on the counter. Grumbling something under his breath, Negan pinched at his nose and shrugged. “The two of you were secret best friends behind our backs after all.”

“I don’t think you would want to call me that,” Joel thought back on his relationship that he shared with Lucille when he was younger. “I wasn’t a very good friend and calling me her best friend would be giving me too much credit.”

“I don’t understand why you two had to hide that you were friends,” Negan commented, frustration visible behind his eyes. A loud gust of wind outside caught both of their attention having them look to the window to see that it was snowing even harder. “I wouldn’t have fucking cared. I would have been fine with it.”

“We were both going through things,” Joel explained, reaching back to brace himself by curling his fingers around the counter. “When one of us needed someone to talk to, we’d talk to each other. Send each other videos, voice messages, e-mails…sometimes she just needed to get things off her mind that she couldn’t talking to someone in her real life and vice versa.”

“I see,” Negan was quiet, his jaw flexing when he looked to the ice cream again. Taking time to think about everything, Negan finally shrugged his shoulders and let out an extended sigh. “We obviously have a lot to talk about.”

“I agree,” Joel breathed out thinking about the things that Y/N had found not much earlier on his computer. Then he thought about the thing that Y/N had asked of him before he left. God, this was stupid, but if he wanted to be a better man…if he wanted to be someone that proved he was changing, he needed to tell Negan what Y/N knew. Because if he didn’t, it would always eat away at Y/N around Negan and probably the same for him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Go for it,” Negan realized that Joel was likely going to be there for a while since this was the worst storm he had seen since arriving in town. There was no way that he was going to let Joel drive home in this storm. Even if it meant having him sleep on the couch.

“I did something bad,” Joel tried thinking about this whole thing. Going back and forth between things, Joel knew it was for the best to go forward with it. “I want to be more like you. I want to be honest with the people that I care about.”

“So now I’m someone you care about?” Negan scoffed, turning back toward Joel. Rolling his eyes, Joel dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yes. Very much so. Yes,” Joel answered in a whisper, a lump growing at the center of his throat. Licking his lips anxiously, Joel started to realize how cold he actually was right now. Especially with his white t-shirt and his plaid button up being wet. “Which is why I’m doing this.”

Folding his arms out in front of his chest, Negan leaned back against the counter giving Joel his full attention and that truthfully made Joel a hell of a lot more nervous, “When Lucille and I were talking, most of the time it was innocent. We’d talk about our lives, our emotions, our anger…but…” Joel paused considering right now if this was the smartest idea. “There were times when we’d talk a little…heated?”

“Come again?” Negan obviously thought he didn’t hear Joel correctly with Joel clearing his throat. God, this was stupid. And Joel was truthfully preparing for the worst.

“It was originally initiated by me, so don’t think she did it, but we’d sometimes role play a bit. Talk about sex. Things that we’d do to each other if we were together,” Joel stammered fighting the urge to stop talking because he wanted Negan to know what he had done. By Negan’s expression that was not what he was expecting to hear from Joel in the least. “Things on her end were mostly innocent?”

“Mostly?” Negan repeated, his face scrunching up and by that expression? Joel knew Negan was pissed. The color was draining from Joel’s face and he realized he entirely fucked up with going forward with this, but he had to be honest. From this moment on he always swore to do so to be a better man.

“Yeah, mostly. I got an occasional risqué photo. I also did send her photos and videos of my…” Joel paused, his face getting hot when he directed his hands toward the center of his pants. “I’m telling you because Y/N was working on my computer today. She discovered some of those videos and read some of our e-mails. And I’ve decided that I don’t want to hide from people about the asshole that I used to be. I want to have the trait that you have of telling people everything.”

“You sent my wife dick pics?” Negan smirked uncomfortably with Joel nodding his head. There was a silence that filled the house and the only thing that was heard was the loud wind that was outside. “Did the two of you ever fuck?”

“No,” Joel immediately threw his hands up in the air and cleared his throat. “When I was married to Y/N, I never had sex with another person. It was only at the end of our marriage that I talked dirty, I sent some videos of me jerking off sometimes and the occasional nude photo, but I never…”

With a swift move forward, Negan’s fist connected with Joel’s face having him fall to the ground in a thud at the center of Negan’s kitchen. Groaning out, Joel rolled onto his stomach with his hands covering his face. For a skinny guy, Negan sure as hell hit fucking hard. Hitting his hand against the floor, Joel tried to count to himself. Most of the time if someone hit him, he would fight back, but he knew with this hit? He deserved it.

Ten minutes later Joel was sitting on the couch holding a pack of ice on his nose while poking at the bowl of the warmed-up ravioli that was on the coffee table with a fork. Negan was sitting beside him eating his bowl of ravioli and Joel huffed, “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

“It was a one and done,” Negan spoke with a mouthful gazing over at Joel who pulled the ice pack from his nose. Reaching out with his free hand to grab a hold of Joel’s chin, Negan observed Joel’s nose and shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t look too bad.”

“Oh, good. I just bled all over your floor for the first five minutes,” Joel sarcastically stammered, resting the bag of ice back over his face.

“You fucking deserved it,” Negan snorted shoving another piece of ravioli into his mouth, looking to the television where he had on a football game. “First, for what you told me. Second, because Y/N hasn’t done it to you. Third cus’ you kept suggesting I’m only doing this to get back at you when you know I was and am very much fucking in love with Y/N. And fourth because I needed to knock you back for last night. My jaw still fucking hurts from your first hit.”

Groaning out, Joel dropped his head back against the couch and adjusted the pack of ice over his face, “So she said she doesn’t want to talk to you, huh?”

“She told me that she needed space and time,” Joel recalled what Y/N had told him before she kicked him out of the house. “I don’t blame her man. She sees what I did as cheating. And in a way, I guess it was.”

“It wasn’t so much cheating as it was having an emotional relationship with other people,” Negan explained, his throat flexing with his next bite of his food. “You were going to someone else to talk to instead of coming to her and you were sharing parts of you that at the time, belonged to her.”

Dropping the ice pack into his lap, Joel scoffed and then reached for the bowl of food that Negan had made for him after he helped him clean up his face, “So you saw my wife’s parts?”

Instead of speaking, Joel looked to Negan and chewed slowly. There was a muscle that twitched in Negan’s jaw and he scoffed, “they were good parts.”

“Your wife was very attractive,” Joel agreed with Negan as he reached out to turn the volume down on the television with the remote that was on the coffee table. “Both of our wives were very attractive.”

“I still think you’re insane,” Negan claimed, finishing off his food waiting for Joel to finish with his. However, Joel was being very slow with eating since Negan assumed it hurt for him to eat. The look that Joel gave him was that of someone who wasn’t surprised but was waiting for the why. “Y/N is perfect, I don’t know how you could have left her for Tess. Not that Tess isn’t attractive, but I remember what she was like when we were younger.”

“I didn’t exactly leave her for Tess,” Joel blurt out with a mouthful, his head immediately shaking at the suggestion. “Yes, I dated Tess for a while, but I just wanted to experience life. I could say the same thing about you with Lucille. We both made idiotic decisions that looking back on don’t make too much sense.”

“Touché,” Negan scoffed getting comfortable on the couch again, dropping his head back against it.

“Then again you were never stupid enough to let Lucille go,” Joel compared the two of them out loud, “I should have never divorced her. I don’t know what I was thinking. Thinking back now I realize what a big mistake it was. When I was younger I was certain I would lose her to you and then I’m the one that lets her go.”

“Joel,” Negan slurred, his head dropping to the side to gaze out at Joel who was still poking at his food. “I don’t mean to point this out, but what you’ve told me with Lucille and what you did when I was young with Y/N, you do realize that it feels like you’re the one with a fucking vendetta against me, right? You’ve been claiming I’ve done all of this to get back at you, but…”

Muttering something under his breath, Joel shoved another piece of ravioli into his mouth and it had Negan snorting at the way he was avoiding the answer, “Way to avoid the conversation.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” Joel huffed sitting forward so he didn’t have to look at Negan even though out of the corner of his eye he could still see that Negan was staring out at him. “It’s just not true. I don’t have a…vendetta against you.”

“Mhmm…” Negan didn’t say much with Joel finishing up his food. After Joel set the bowl down on the coffee table, Negan was quick to pick them up to go clean them. With Negan gone, Joel just took that time to put the ice pack back on his face. Not long after Negan dropped back down onto the couch, patting his hands on his thighs. “I actually have a theory, but I think I’ll make you pissed if I say it.”

“Like it would be the first time you pissed me off,” Joel reasoned with Negan who gave a dramatic expression while considering it.

“Not yet,” Negan announced, contemplating his next thought. “You got really angry with me about doing the thing at the bar with your singing. Why did you get so bitchy about it? You can’t tell me that it didn’t feel good being up there. Living out your dreams. Your kids told me you went viral with me and Y/N told me about all the e-mails you have been getting with your job alone.”

“Because everything I have, I did myself,” Joel spoke honestly, his eyes sincere when he did actually look at Negan for this answer. “I don’t like people handing things to me. Yes, it felt good to be appreciated for something I used to love to do, but it would have meant more if I did it myself. I’m just that kind of person.”

“I see,” Negan took time to think about the answer. “Did anyone else contact you?”

“Other than the hundreds of e-mails that there was no way I could truly get through them all?” Joel mumbled, throwing his hands up while keeping a tight hold of the ice pack. “My laptop fucked up and that’s how Y/N got a hold of it to see all the stupid shit I did when we were nearing our divorce.”

“I just can’t picture being married to Y/N and letting her go,” Negan swayed from what they were talking about eliciting a grunt from Joel at how fast he seemed to change the topic. “I swear, just the way she looks at you—Lucille used to have the same kind of look. Where you know that she loves you. It takes my breath away.”

Watching Negan, Joel felt his throat tense up knowing that he still wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of Negan with Y/N, “And God, with sex? I can’t get over what she’s like during sex. The way those eyes lock on yours when she’s about to give you a blowjob. There is something about the way that she gets a rise outta you first. The way she just kneels down between your legs. Those teasing touches where she palms over your thighs and down your legs to squeeze at your calves before up again. I like how she just doesn’t jump right into it, y’know? She makes it a big thing. Even when she starts to undo your belt and your pants. It’s so sexy. The want…the passion…”

“Negan?” Joel breathed out, noticing that Negan was caressing over his own thigh.

“But her actual blowjobs?” Negan growled, dramatically bobbing his head about and throwing his hands up in the air to stress his words. “God? It’s the perfect mix of firm and delicate. With the way her fingers curl around your cock. She truly worships your body. You know? Just slow, focused touches. She’s so meticulous with the way that she watches you to make sure you’re enjoying it. And the way she wets her lips with her mouth so close to your cock? Teasing the warmth of her breath over your shaft having your anticipation growing. Wanting her to take you in. And then when she starts to lick it? Treating you like you are her own personal lollipop that she is so fucking thankful for. It just leaves you begging for her to take it into her mouth. And when she plays with your balls? Christ.”

Joel felt a warmth flooding through his veins. It should have been anger, but the way Negan was saying and stressing things, Joel noticed that his heart was starting to pound inside of his chest, “By the time she finally takes you into her mouth? Fuck, you’ve already been begging for it. And the way she keeps her eyes locked on you with the warmth of her mouth just focusing on the tip? It almost feels like she tries to fucking overstimulate you to get you sensitive before she starts to really give you the blowjob. It’s incredible what she’s fucking capable of considering she’s only been with two men.”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Joel shifted beside Negan with him continuing on, “And when she wants to be on top? Fuck me. I feel like I’m a teenage boy all over again with how excited I am. The way it feels when she finally gets the tip inside of her? Fuck, it feels so good. With the warmth of her tight pussy just clinging to you as you stretch and fill her until she takes all of you in. The way she looks is like she is experiencing the purest form of pleasure she has ever…”

“Okay,” Joel interrupted Negan reaching for the pillow that was beside him to cover his lap with it. After all of that Joel realized he was starting to get hard just with the detailed descriptions and it made him embarrassed. “Enough.”

“Did I give you a boner?” Negan chuckled with Joel’s face flushing over. A loud rumble of laughter fell from his throat with Joel shifting uneasily beside him pushing the pillow further into his lap.

“You did it on purpose,” Joel suggested feeling embarrassed with Negan so amused with what he had done. By the way Negan was talking, Joel knew that was exactly what Negan was going for. “I am attracted to her and you’re talking about something I know very well. My body liked picturing what you were selling. And you knew it would.”

“Eh, it just tells me that you’re bisexual,” Negan alerted Joel waving his hand about showing that he had indeed done it on purpose. “I was just testing things.”

“Testing things? How do you reckon I’m bisexual with me getting a hard on from you getting me to picture the woman I love doing those things?” Joel was confused, his right eyebrow arching up in curiosity.

“Because if you didn’t get an erection from me doing that I wondered if you truly were bisexual or if you had a preference for men,” Negan explained further why he did what he had done having Joel breathing heavily.

“Why do you suddenly think I’m extremely gay?” Joel scowled, his voice sounding angrier with each passing second. “Just because you’re the one that is open to fucking other men doesn’t mean I’m like you. I’ve been with one man based on conflicting emotions that I got when we had a threesome with Y/N and you’re the one who has slept with God knows how many men.”

“Right, you only slept with me because of conflicting emotions,” Negan snorted, his eyes rolling before he stood up from the couch and paced in the living room.

“It’s amazing that the internet seems to think you are this incredible ladies’ man,” Joel stood from the couch still keeping the pillow over him with one hand to hide himself from Negan. Negan moved over to the corner of the room to get himself a drink from the alcohol shelf that was there and Joel could feel a rush of anger flooding through him. “Yet you don’t have a problem with smoking pole and you do a hell of a job at it. How have you not gotten your ass beat by your team with you being…”

“Being what? Is this where you’re gonna mock me for being attracted to men?” Negan wondered, turning on his heel taking a long sip of the alcohol before hissing out. “Go for it Joel, it’s not like I haven’t heard the gay jokes before. So go ahead. Bring them on.”

Negan wiggled his fingers and it had Joel’s jaw tensing, his eyebrows bouncing up when Negan shrugged his shoulders, “Go ahead buddy. Let’s hear it. I am attracted to men, women, people in general. So if you want attack me for it, go ahead. If that makes you feel more comfortable about your sexuality, bring it on buddy. Make daddy proud.”

Joel’s lips parted like he was about to say something and Negan tipped his head to the side, raising his free hand to place it against his ear like he couldn’t hear Joel.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Negan snarled, finishing off the glass that he poured for himself. “You want me to feel bad about myself for that? I don’t. You act like there weren’t signs of you being bisexual when we were younger which is fucking hilarious.”

“I’ve never slept with another man before you,” Joel scoffed when Negan poured himself another drink and went over to the couch to rest against the back of it. With the way Negan was looking at him, Joel immediately shook his head and cleared his throat. “I didn’t.”

“Right because jerking off with your friends was totally straight,” Negan’s voice changed, his jaw flexing when he saw a bit of color flush into Joel’s face. “Like I’m supposed to forget the two of us jerking off all the time together. How at first we’d just sit across the room from each other. And how we gradually got closer to one another until you started jerking me off and vice versa. So fucking straight.”

Joel said nothing, just lowered his head down with his lips parting, “I don’t know what got into you to make you this raging homophobe toward yourself, but your dad is dead Joel. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not for a man that isn’t even here anyways. If you want to say you just got excited by the porn, go for it. But we both know you paid way more attention to me jerking off than you did the porn. And let’s not forget, it was you that touched my dick first. You wanted me to fuck you so bad back then.”

Moving around the couch, Joel stared down at Negan while he finished off his drink and set the glass down, “So tell me Joel. What kind of fantasies did alpha Joel have back then? Did you want me to fuck your ass or did you want to fuck mine? It had to kill you when we were in the showers together. Seeing me naked and knowing that you had to pretend to be straight when all you wanted was to fuck me.”

A moment later, a strong amount of force yanked Negan out of the chair pulling him up to his feet. Joel had the material of Negan’s shirt balled up in his fist when Negan chuckled and shrugged, “Go ahead Joel. Beat up the queer guy. Get that straight male rage out. Prove you’re so straight that you would hurt me just for suggesting that you had feelings for me when we were younger.”

“Fuck you Negan,” Joel shoved Negan back into his chair making it tip back slightly.

“What is wrong with having feelings for another man?” Negan snarled at Joel who went over to the edge of the couch to bury his head into his hands. “You were more attracted to me than you were her when we were younger. Yet now you’re pretending that you never had an ounce of gay in you,” Negan was angry with Joel who lifted his head up from his palm to glare out at Negan. “Don’t lie. It was me you wanted to have sex with. I always wondered why you didn’t like her. She crushed on you so hard and she didn’t make it a secret. But no, it was me that you were constantly around. I always thought I saw you sneaking looks every time we were naked around each other. It also makes sense why it infuriated you that I was saving my virginity for the woman that I was in love with. Why you always fucked with me and made me feel bad about my relationship with Y/N.”

“I wasn’t gay,” Joel stressed with a rumble of an angered sound. “I’m not gay.”

“I never said you were. I’m suggesting that you’re a bisexual struggling with your sexuality,” Negan growled, his eyes narrowing with Joel’s breathing growing louder. “Notice you don’t deny what I’m saying. It was me that you had a crush on. And then you fucked her to get back at me. It was then you realized just how fucking perfect she really was. I don’t blame you for that because she was pure and everything right in the world. But pretending you’re this straight homophobic piece of shit is ridiculous. Maybe your father was like that, but you’re not. Being attracted to me sexually doesn’t negate your feelings for her either. You can still be head over heels in love with her and still want to explore that part of you.”

Standing up from the chair that he was in, Negan moved across the living room and stepped before Joel, “You can do that because she gave us permission. She gave you permission, but you’re scared. It doesn’t upset her.”

“Yeah Negan. What do you want me to say?” Joel bit back an angered breath. “Yes, I liked you. I liked you so fucking much. And I knew I wasn’t supposed to. I knew it was wrong. When we started doing things together, you hadn’t done anything with Y/N yet because she was too fucking young. But I wasn’t stupid. While she was always in love with me, you were always in love with her and I…”

Tipping his head to the side, Joel rolled his eyes and forced himself to keep his head down while he rubbed at the back of his head, “You’re right. I always liked you. But you know just as much as I do what happened to me. So being this way with me is cruel. Stop mocking me for the way that I felt. The way that I feel because my father beat the shit outta me Negan. You know that. I had to pretend everything was fake or else I lost everything. And you dropped it just as quick. Liking you led to me getting my ass kicked by someone I loved. Someone I thought was a good man. So please stop mocking me.”

“Joel,” Negan breathed, backing off with Joel getting upset about what happened when they were younger. “That wasn’t my intention. I just want you to be able to be yourself.”

“It’s hard,” Joel stressed, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “You saw me. You knew how much he hurt me. So please give me a break if I’m taking my time opening up to the idea of being attracted to women and…you. Because liking you got me punished. Real bad.”

“You’re right,” Negan swallowed down hard, giving Joel a firm nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about it like that. I’m fucking sorry.”

Nodding his head, Joel tried not to get emotional about everything when he shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, I was jealous that you were head over heels in love with Y/N. I wanted you to like me. And I did what I did because you embarrassed me, but I’m telling you the truth when I say that falling in love with her? That wasn’t against you. I told her and she doesn’t believe me, but I questioned if I was gay or straight for a long time. I just knew that I wasn’t right. And then this one time in class I was talking to our friends on the team and I saw her smile while talking to someone in the front row. It took my breath away. And then when we slept together? The way it felt, the way she looked at me? I fell immediately. So it wasn’t to hurt you. I felt things for you. I feel things for you. Things I wasn’t allowed to follow through with, but I fell deeply in love with her. And that wasn’t a vendetta against you.”

“I believe you,” Negan stammered, his hazel eyes narrowing with him caressing down over the side of his own face. “I saw the way that the two of you looked at one another. I’m not stupid. Nor am I blind. But the Lucille stuff?”

“We got carried away,” Joel didn’t have a good enough reason for what happened with them back then. “We were close, she was beautiful. I don’t know what to tell you Negan. We both have good taste I guess? It wasn’t about having a vendetta. I was always jealous of you Negan, we both know that. But…”

Stepping before Joel, Negan’s eyes locked with his and he outstretched his hands. Placing them in over the center of Joel’s chest, Negan caressed down over the lengths of his abdomen. Stopping at Joel’s belt, Negan started to work it open having Joel swallowing loudly, “I know Joel…”

Sliding his hand over the front of Joel’s pants, Negan cupped Joel in his palm with Joel watching closely. Closing the distance between them, Negan’s breath was warm against the side of his neck and it had Joel’s eyes coming to a tight close. Working open Joel’s pants, Negan was rough in the way he got the material of Joel’s jeans and his boxer briefs down in the front allowing Joel’s rigid manhood to bounce free from its confines. Firmly curling his fingers around Joel’s shaft had Joel groaning out when Negan’s started caressing over his body. Sheathing Joel’s cock again and again had Joel panting against the side of his neck.

“You don’t have to be mad at yourself for liking me. It was never a problem that you did,” Negan bit at Joel’s chin area before pressing kisses up over Joel’s jawline. “Your dad was an asshole. You’re not broken. There is nothing wrong with you. You’re so angry at the world because you were never truly allowed to thrive mainly because of your parents. Stop being so angry Joel and allow yourself the things that you want. Together we can all work to break down this wall you had to put up to hide behind. Behind it’s helping no one. Y/N is okay if you like me. I’m okay with it. Allow yourself to be okay with it.”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” Joel confessed, sucking in a sharp breath of air with Negan starting to pepper kisses against the side of his neck.

“Yeah? So am I,” Negan scoffed, his hand continuing to caress over Joel’s flesh, “You should just allow yourself to be pampered by the two people you want most in the world.”

“You don’t understand,” Joel winced, biting down on his lip. It felt like the room was spinning around him and he had to close his eyes.

“I understand why you think you need to do what you are,” Negan stated pulling his hand from Joel’s length having Joel whine when he did it. “I just don’t agree with your decisions.”

Dropping carefully to his knees, avoiding hurting his bad knee, Negan grabbed a firm hold of Joel’s pants tugging them down. Stumbling to stay on his feet, Joel breathed heavily with his eyes lowering down to watch Negan. Pushing up at Joel’s button down and his white t-shirt, Negan kissed at the area below Joel’s belly button. Compared to what he was used to, it felt different with Negan’s short beard teasing at his flesh.

Palming down in over Joel’s hips elicited a sharp exhale from Joel. Sliding his hands around Joel’s hips, Negan grasped at Joel’s fleshy bottom and slid his hands down to the back of Joel’s thighs before up again. Nipping at the area just below Joel’s belly button had his hand lifting to sink into Negan’s thick hair.

“Please,” Joel stammered, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. Tipping his head back, Negan dragged his bottom lip up the length of Joel’s hip toward his lower abdomen again. The way Joel’s big brown eyes were focused on him made Negan smile. “Please Negan, I need this.”

“Look at you begging,” Negan muttered arrogantly, his eyes narrowing with Joel sounding and looking incredibly desperate. Giving a single nod, Negan adjusted his knee so he’d be more comfortable. Each stroke of Negan’s hand over Joel’s cock grew quicker going from base to tip. Feeling Joel slightly bouncing his hips forward with every movement of Negan’s hand over his uncut cock made an amused rumble fall from Negan. “See, if you just accept yourself as you are, you don’t have to worry about begging me to suck your cock Joel. You can just have it and not feel guilty.”

Joel’s face grew tense when Negan extended his tongue out, tapping Joel’s cock against the wet, warmth of it. Involuntarily, Joel’s hips flexed bringing his hips closer to Negan who snickered against his flesh. The sensation drew chills down Joel’s spine and he tugged harder at Negan’s hair.

Catching onto the frustration, Negan started to press wet kisses over the tip of Joel’s swollen member. Every caress of his lips over Joel’s sensitive flesh grew stronger until Negan took Joel into the warmth of his mouth. One hand squeezed at Joel’s hips while the other stroked over Joel’s shaft. Together his hand and mouth worked in unison to provide Joel with as much pleasure as he could. Taking Joel further back into his throat had Joel’s head tipping back with a raspy moan falling from him. Negan was taking his time letting his tongue tease over every ridge of Joel’s cock and he felt like this was big for Joel since he was allowing himself to be more open to the person he wanted to be.

Wet sounds filled the air as Joel started to unhurriedly thrust his hips forward toward Negan’s throat. By the pressure that was over his hip, Joel knew that Negan wanted to control this tempo, but it was almost instinctive to meet those movements.

Even though Negan knew Joel was excited to explore this whole thing, when Joel started to thrust his hips just a bit too hard it had Negan pulling back with a wet popping sound. It drew out a disappointed grunt from Joel who was breathing loudly.

Unexpectedly, Joel reached down to grab a firm hold of Negan. How easily he pulled Negan up onto his feet surprised Negan. Balling Negan’s shirt up into his grasp had Negan falling forward bringing them closer together.

Eagerly, Joel moved forward to bring their lips together in a forceful kiss that shocked Negan. Grunting against Joel’s mouth, Negan realized there was some sense of Joel trying to show dominance in the moment, but he was too focused on that instead of allowing things to feel good.

“Dial it down a notch,” Negan instructed, pulling his mouth away from Joel to drag his thumb across Joel’s bottom lip. Collecting the dampness that was there, Negan shook his head and hushed Joel. “We’re both alpha males, but we don’t have to beat the shit out of each other to make a point. Slow down. For fucks sake. Allow yourself to enjoy things.”

“I’m new to this,” Joel defended himself, taking Negan’s thumb between his lips to flick his tongue out against the tip of it. A deep rumble of a moan escaped Negan with his eyelids growing heavy. Fuck, he wondered if Joel realized how much that turned him on.

“You can’t be this rough with Y/N, are you?” Negan inquired finding himself completely impressed when Joel took his thumb into his mouth. Trying to keep it together, Negan felt his heart skip a beat with the way that Joel was sucking faintly at his thumb and then nibbled at the tip.

“Sometimes,” Joel breathed loudly, his eyes heavy with lust in the moment.

“Well chill the fuck out,” Negan snickered looking down between them. Shoving Joel had him tripping over his own pants that were hooked around his ankles. Falling back onto the couch, Joel grunted with Negan shaking his head. “There is a storm outside, we have time to explore this.”

Pulling at his own shirt, Negan raised it above his head stretching out his long torso when he tossed the material aside on the floor. Adjusting the waistband of his black athletic pants, Negan watched as Joel fumbled to open his button-down shirt that he was wearing.

“How is this supposed to work?” Joel gulped down with a pant, struggling to get the material from his body. “I don’t know what to do with this whole poly thing.”

“It’s the three of us sharing each other mutually. No anger. No jealousy. She can have you or me. You can have me or her. And so on,” Negan stated, sucking at his bottom lip. With a crooked smirk, Negan knew that this would be a hard thing to agree upon, but he felt like it was the most positive outcome for them all. “That way, we’re all happy.”

“And she’s okay with that?” Joel inquired grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. Pulling it from his body, Joel tossed it aside. Going to work off his pants, Joel let out a tremoring breath when Negan motioned him to stop. Lowering down, Negan grabbed a hold of the material and tossed them to the ground with a thud.

“Have you been listening to her?” Negan wondered, holding his finger up to motion Joel to wait. Moving down the hallway, Joel wondered if he should have been following Negan who soon returned to the living room after shoving something into his pocket. Stepping before Joel had Joel’s chocolate brown eyes lifting up to stare at Negan. Shakily leaning forward, Joel’s fingers made contact with the side of Negan’s hurt leg and it had Negan sucking in a sharp breath of air. Rubbing his cheek in over Negan’s thigh through the material of his pants, Joel closed his eyes with Negan stroking his fingers through his thick hair, “I think once you learn to accept who you are, you’re going to love yourself so much more Joel.”

“I don’t even know who I am,” Joel admitted with a tremoring breath. It was true. There was so much about himself that Joel didn’t understand.

“And that’s what we have to work on,” Negan hummed stroking his fingers over the back of Joel’s neck. “First, you have to stop hating yourself for things you can’t control. Feelings you’ve had since you were a teenager.”

“I hate myself for just about everything,” Joel confessed, tipping his head back to meet Negan’s eyes with his big puppy dog stare. “You don’t understand…”

“I do. I understand hating yourself very much,” Negan swept his thumb in over Joel’s jaw realizing how eager Joel was to have Negan touch him. “That’s not a new feeling for me Joel. It’s been there my whole life too.”

Clasping Joel’s jaw between his thumb and index finger, Negan bit down on his bottom lip and nodded toward the couch, “Lay down with your head resting on the arm of the couch.”

Obeying, Joel lazily stretched out on the couch doing as he was instructed. His mouth went dry with Negan palming over the front of his pants gazing over Joel’s body, “Are you a top or a bottom?”

“Neither, I like both,” Negan responded with a wrinkle of his nose. “Both have their merits and both feel really fucking good when done right. Both fucking take a certain talent. Focus. Relaxation. Preparation. Each provides different kinds of pleasure.”

Moving to the couch, Negan got on his knees over Joel hovering over Joel’s chest. Pushing down the waistband of his athletic pants in the front, Negan allowed his semi-erect cock to pull from the material. Touching himself, Negan felt a rush of excitement at the way Joel’s dark eyes gazed over his body.

“You seemed to like both the other night,” Negan reminded Joel of their time together in New York. The reminder had Joel’s face growing hot with red flooding into his cheeks at the reminder of them sleeping together. “Wet your lips.”

Glaring up at Negan, Joel was dramatic in the way he did it and Negan sank his fingers firmly into Joel’s hair, “This dick isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Outstretching his arm, a firm smack filled the air followed by a groan from Negan after Joel hit him. Wincing, Negan rubbed at the side of his face. There was a pinging sensation from the hit and Negan rolled his eyes. Returning the gesture, Negan smacked at the side of Joel’s face. It was enough power to make a point with Joel hissing beneath him.

Bracing his left hand in over the arm of the couch, Negan licked his lips while leaning forward. Curling his fingers at the base of his own cock, Negan placed the tip of his manhood at Joel’s lips hearing Joel’s breathing getting louder. Parting his lips, Joel allowed Negan to push his length into the warmth of his mouth. Circling Negan’s girth with his lips, Joel’s eyes closed with him attempting to deliver to Negan what he liked with a blowjob.

“That’s it,” Negan hummed starting to thrust his hips toward the warmth of Joel’s wet mouth allowing his cock to grow fully rigid with Joel pleasuring him. “Don’t forget to use your tongue.”

Tipping his head back, Negan moaned with Joel listening to his direction. This was what Negan assumed was Joel’s first time really giving a blowjob, so it really wasn’t that bad for a first time. Dropping his head back, Joel’s wet lips kissed at the shiny tip of Negan’s cock getting a growl from the man over him. “You have nice lips, y’know that?”

“I got a lot of nice things,” Joel breathed with a weak smirk pressing another wet kiss at the underside of Negan’s erection. Getting up from over Joel, Negan stood at the side of the couch. Digging into his pocket, Negan pulled out a condom and some lube which had a breath catching in Joel’s throat. Holding out the condom, Negan waited for Joel to grab it. Accepting the condom, Joel swallowed down hard with Negan kicking out of his athletic pants. Holding onto the condom, Joel considered it for a while until lifting the condom back up toward Negan. “I want you to be the top.”

“Are you sure?” Negan inquired, his eyebrows furrowing after taking the package back from Joel. Setting it aside, Negan wiggled his fingers motioning Joel to lay on his stomach. “I need to prep you like last time.”

Carefully rolling over, Joel got comfortable and let out a long exhale. The warmth of Negan moving in over him had his eyes coming to a tight close. Negan was cautious with the way that he moved over Joel starting with caressing over Joel’s shoulders to get him relaxed, “That’s not what I thought you were going to focus on.”

“You wanna loosen up all around before this,” Negan commented working on Joel’s tight muscles. Grumbling Joel buried his head further down enjoying the way that it felt. Sinking into the couch, Joel realized that it had been a very long time since he had anyone doing this for him.

“You keep doing this and I’m going to fall asleep,” Joel alerted Negan with a tired breath finding himself getting too comfortable. “What happens after we do this?”

“What do you want to happen?” Negan inquired, the warmth of his breath hovering in over Joel’s shoulder. Depositing faint kisses there, Negan listened to the sounds that Joel was making to see if he seemed comfortable. “Depends on you I guess. I love Y/N, it’s not gonna change. She means everything to me. I’m still gonna be attracted to you. I’m open to trying something between the three of us. See where it goes.”

Once Negan started caressing over Joel’s lower back it had Joel looking over his shoulder. A chill ran up Joel’s spine with Negan’s hands dragging down over Joel’s sides, “Are you safe with sex?”

“I’d like to think I was safe,” Negan responded reaching out to grab the bottle of lubrication that he had brought with him. “I don’t ever try to hurt anyone, but you never know what someone is comfortable with.”

“Not what I mean,” Joel turned his upper half, his jaw flexing when Negan started to squeeze at Joel’s ass. An involuntary moan escaped Joel’s throat with the way that Negan was touching him, surprising even Joel in that moment. “I mean, do you wear condoms?”

“I have only slept with three people without a condom,” Negan alerted Joel with a wrinkle of his nose having Joel lower back down onto his stomach. “I also am checked out all the time by a healthcare professional with my job.”

“Lucille, Y/N and…?” Joel waited for the answer having Negan snort when he heard it. “What?”

“Are you forgetting the other night all together?” Negan stammered, his eyes narrowing with Joel turning onto his side to look back at him. “You were kind of eager at the apartment the other night. I was in my pajamas, you didn’t have condoms, it was meant to be a family trip…”

“Oh,” Joel’s lips were parted as Negan made an amused expression. “I didn’t think about that. Why are you doing it now?”

“Because practicing safe sex is a good thing?” Negan suggested, his right eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Not saying that you’re dirty or anything, but…”

“Got it,” Joel retorted with a rumble, his head lowering with Negan continuing to palm at his fleshy bottom.

“I kind of assumed after the threesome it was okay…” Negan’s words lingered and the sound of the lid of the lube opening was heard. Breathing loudly, Joel’s eyes squeezed shut tighter with the sensation of the cool liquid dripping down over his body. “What about you?”

“Just…uh…two,” Joel breathed against his arm, biting down on his bottom lip. It sounded kind of ridiculous thinking about it, but he never trusted someone enough to do that with them. Especially when he already had two children, “And you’re the second so…”

“Boy scout,” Negan joked, bringing his palm down firmly over Joel’s ass provoking a wince from his throat. “You have such a nice ass.”

“Jealous?” Joel smirked with an amused rumble. Another firm smack over his bottom caused him to grunt this time.

“I have a nice ass too, mine just isn’t so big,” Negan defended himself with a growl, circling his fingers at Joel’s pucker having Joel clench up before him. “Relax or nothing will feel good. If this isn’t what you want, I’ll happily switch with you.”

Doing as he was told, Joel bit down on his bottom lip with Negan’s fingers pressing into him. It had Joel wrapping his arms around the throw pillow that was there. Truth was? Negan was very gentle. And probably very good at getting him prepared. Most people could only be so lucky to have Negan be the first person they slept with in this case.

“I think Y/N wishes you would have been her first,” Joel admitted getting a quiet laugh from Negan behind him. Warmth pressed in over the side of his neck as Negan’s lips descended down over it. “You’re good at what you do.”

“If I would have been her first, I was a virgin then too,” Negan reminded Joel with a smirk, nipping gently at the skin over Joel’s neck. “It might have been careful and gentle, but it probably wouldn’t have been great. Lucille let me know that I could use some work.”

A low rumble of a moan escaped Joel and he turned his head a certain way so Negan could pamper the side of his neck with kisses, “But you knew Y/N’s body better than Lucille’s.”

“Regardless, no one is perfect their first time,” Negan defended, nuzzling his nose at the area right behind Joel’s ear. Shudders flooded Joel’s body and he sucked in a sharp breath of air. “What was meant to happen, happened.”

Arching his back, Joel let out another moan with Negan’s fingers preparing him with finesse. The sensation of Negan’s fingers leaving his body had him breathing unevenly, panting even. A force pushed at his body to get him back onto his back with Negan hovering over him. Grabbing the condom again, Negan worked open the package and then took his time putting the condom on. Pouring a decent amount of lube into his hand, Negan worked it over his body and reached for Joel’s legs. Placing them in over his shoulders, Negan adjusted Joel the way he wanted him. Beneath him Joel seemed nervous and it had Negan pausing.

“This isn’t your first time,” Negan reminded Joel with a smirk reaching between them to line his body up with Joel’s. “You obviously liked it enough to want it a second time.”

“I wasn’t looking at you last time,” Joel countered, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat with his right hand lowering to loosely hook his fingers around Negan’s wrist.

“Well I’d rather look at your pretty face with those big brown eyes,” Negan pushed forward, sinking some of his length into Joel’s tight opening. Exhaling loudly, Joel lifted his head and Negan shook his head. Allowing Joel to keep his fingers wrapped around his wrist, Negan braced his other hand on the arm of the couch. Starting off slow, Negan’s lips parted with his eyes rolling back to a close. A muscle flexed in Negan’s jaw and Joel was more so focused on Negan’s face rather than how things felt. Once things started to get a bit faster and harder with the smacking of their skin, Joel found himself moaning involuntarily with his head dropping back. “Is this everything you wanted when we were younger?”

“Negan,” Joel frowned hating that they were going back to their earlier conversation.

“Stop pretending you didn’t want this,” Negan demanded, his hips smacking harder up against Joel drawing gasps from his throat. “Is this what you pictured?”

“You’re hotter now,” Joel winced, his fingers squeezing around Negan’s wrist.

“You’re hotter now,” Negan repeated with a wrinkle of his nose, amused with the response he got out of Joel. “You prefer the alpha male as opposed to the twink?”

“Yes,” Joel swallowed down hard, his eyes rolling back to a close with the sensations Negan was drawing out of him. Dropping his other hand, Joel curled his fingers around his cock and caressed in tempo with Negan’s thrusts. “I just liked your personality. I liked how you didn’t take…”

Joel moaned out loudly, his hand pumping faster over his length with Negan plunging into him time and time again, “anyone’s shit.”

“The fact I had a big cock didn’t hurt either,” Negan mused with a grunt, pressing faint kisses at Joel’s leg.

“I wouldn’t have cared what your cock looked like,” Joel growled having Negan drop Joel’s legs down so he could crawl in closer to Joel. Bracing Joel’s thighs over his hips Negan made sure he could bring their lips together in a heated kiss. Brushing his tongue out against Joel’s had Joel groaning into his mouth. “Harder.”

“No,” Negan shook his head knowing that he was already moving as hard and fast as he thought Joel could take being new to this whole thing. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re infuriating,” Joel curled his fingers around the back of Negan’s neck to bring their mouths together again in a powerful movement with both of them fighting for some kind of dominance in the kiss. Pushing his hand aside, Negan curled his fingers around Joel’s length now pumping his hand over Joel’s distended flesh. “Fuck…”

“There we go…” Negan panted, with Joel dropping his head back against the pillow. Hovering his lips in over Joel’s, Negan felt the first splash of Joel’s cum at his lower abdomen followed by the next few ropes of it covering both his and Joel’s chests. Caressing him until the very end of his orgasm, Negan then focused on his own release working to build himself up until he finally did come with a roar. Allowing his hips to come to falter, Negan pressed a lingering kiss over Joel’s lips and then carefully pulled away. Working the condom from his body, Negan disappeared into the kitchen to throw it away. Returning he saw that Joel’s abdomen was sinking and rising repeatedly from breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. “Why didn’t you just tell me you liked me?”

Tapping at Joel’s legs, Negan dropped down at the other side of the couch and stroked his fingers over the length of them. Waiting for an answer, Negan made a dramatic expression with Joel rolling his eyes, “You were head over heels in love with Y/N and vice versa. You two were my best friends. And I knew that she had a crush on me. I don’t know. It was embarrassing. “

“Why be a dick?” Negan was still looking for answers from their past. Joel brushed his fingers through his wet, messy hair to slick it back. “You know what Y/N meant to me.”

“I was the most popular kid in school. I had an image to uphold and you embarrassed me. They expected me to do something to get back at you,” Joel reasoned with Negan, throwing his hands up in the air. “I didn’t expect to fall in love with Y/N, but I did. Very much so.”

“I know,” Negan sighed loudly, curling his fingers around Joel’s foot to give it a tight squeeze.

“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done,” Joel confessed with a saddened expression. Sweeping his fingers over the inside of Negan’s thigh had Negan’s head tipping to the side. “I had so many chances and I blew them Negan.”

“You have two things going for you that will never keep her away from you,” Negan pointed out, curling his other arm around the back of his neck to get more comfortable. Joel waited for the answer and Negan clearly thought it was obvious. “Liz and Peter.”

“She loves you though,” Joel claimed with a shake of his head.

“And I love her,” Negan stated firmly with his dimples becoming more prominent. “Nothing is gonna change that for me. That doesn’t negate her feelings for you though. She always told me that she still loved you and I always told her that I was okay with that.”

“I am such a fuckup though,” Joel realized feeling guilty that everything played out the way it did.

“You weren’t always,” Negan noted remembering what the two of them were like when they were younger. “Everyone in this town wanted to fucking have a relationship like the two of you. Losing your parents hurt your mental health and you’re doing your best. Now you’re aware of your actions and it’s up to you to work those feelings out. Test the waters and make things right.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Joel admitted, sliding further down on the couch so that way they were closer to one another.

“Nothing is easy in this life Joel,” Negan vowed, his free hand placing in over the center of his chest that was still damp with sweat. “You just have to do your best and that’s all you can do.”

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 6 months ago

Text

So because apparently both parties in my country oppose trans healthcare to some extent I want to make it very clear to cis people what healthcare they're opposing.

There's a lot of fearmongering about children undergoing medical transition. So I'm gonna walk you through what might happen to a child who is transgender and wants to go the full medical route. Let's say our hypothetical transgender child, I'll make him a him because I'm a him and I'll call him Rat because he named himself when he was 6.

So Rat would probably, unless he experienced precocious puberty, go on hormone blockers at age 9 or 10, a year or two before he would start experiencing puberty just to make sure he doesn't experience any female puberty symptoms. Then at about 13 or 14 he would have an appointment with his doctor and they would decide that he has been sure that he was a boy for many years now and he's at an appropriate age to start puberty, at which point he would be taken off the hormone blockers and put onto a dosage of testosterone that is typically of what his perisex camab peers produce naturally. Because he never produced estrogen he would not have grown breasts and not need top surgery. He would develop exactly how his camab peers develop.

Now I want to put an interlude here that literally all of this is reversible. At any point Rat could change his name back and go off the testosterone jabs and his ovaries would start functioning again and they would produce the appropriate estrogen to give him breasts and hips. He could take the same vocal training classes that trans women take, he could get laser hair removal on the places where appropriate, and it would be as if he'd never been on the hormones at all.

But he doesn't want to do that. He wants a penis so let's move onto that.

As far as surgery goes, he would not be able to have either metoidioplasty or phalloplasty until he was on hormones long enough to experience the necessary bottom growth to occur, which takes a couple of years. (At least that was what I was told in 2016 please lmk if standards have changed since then). So at this point we're already about 16 years old before surgery even comes up as an option at the doctor's office. And Rat, if he is particularly gung ho about getting a penis and his parents can afford it/insurance will pay for it, probably gets put on a waiting list for a consultation with a specialist in genital reconstruction. Let's say at that consult which probably takes a few months minimum to get into, he opts for the most similar to perisex male genitalia: phalloplasty with testicular implants. Right there we're looking at at least three different surgeries and not all of them are going to happen at the same time. He's 17 before he's ever even on the operation table and he's been consistently identified as male since elementary school. This is the fastest possible bottom surgery route I'm laying out for you here and he still not slanging it until senior prom when he'll give it an ill advised test run in the back of his parents Subaru with Kelly from the anime club. All of that is assuming there's a doctor who will do it for him that can fit him in. Some people wait years for surgery.

Now some people get top surgery younger, but guess what, breast implants both exist and can be removed. If a 14 year old gets a double mastectomy and regrets it when they're 23 they can get implants. If a 16 year old gets breast implants and regrets it when they're 20 they can get those taken out. Top surgery is not complicated and I've heard from guys who truely would not have made it if they hadn't gotten theirs done.

I know this won't convince anyone who opposes trans healthcare but I hope it at least explains transition to cis allies who support trans people getting healthcare but still might think minors not being allowed to have surgery is a moderate position. I invite any trans person to add onto this with a MTF perspective or how their surgeries helped them.

#trans healthcare #ftm #mtf #transgender

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destiny-in-the-universe · 7 months ago

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Pines Headcanons [Happy Birthday, Grunkles]

I cannot believe I just now got reminded of this- holy shit. Unfortunately, I'm not an artist so have these headcanons instead about Stan and Ford

Stanley ‘Lee’ Pines

He’s bisexual. This is not up for debate (/lh). It just made sense for him

Stanley is ambidextrous. He can write and utilize both his left and right hands. This was something he self-taught himself in after the portal accident

On the power of ‘I said so’, Stan does have some level of book smarts but instead of math or science- it’s creative writing. He’s got the talent for it; however, he rarely - if ever - shares these stories with anyone

Stan has some form of neurodivergency. Young Stan definitely gives the impression of ADHD but also I feel he’s got dyslexia- don’t ask me why. This is canon now

He does have scars from the time he spent on the run and doing his sales. I’m not sure what they are exactly, but just know he has them

Stan knows martial arts. Other than boxing, I feel he would’ve taught himself in other forms of fighting- like the ones done on the streets and it’s a weird mix of martial arts and free-style fighting

He can be a bit of a poet, but for the most part- Stan prefers show-and-tell as his love language. He will present his partner with gifts, and makes sure they understand he’s there for them

He’s kind of protective over his partners, and definitely has gotten into fights in an attempt to protect their honor. It’s ill-placed sometimes but he’s not about to let some bozo mess with them

Stan always sought his father’s approval. He attempted multiple times to perfect his studying skills before the science fair accident, but apparently Old Pa Pines didn’t seem to notice and the rest, well, it was already history

He fantasized of being a pirate when he was a kid. This is where the whole thing of going on a seafaring adventure with Ford came from! Unfortunately due to canon events, this soured out but he held onto a photograph he and Ford took in front of the beach as a memoir

He’s very much not a big fan of vegetables

Stanford ‘Ford’ Pines

He’s arospec and ace!

Ford absolutely loves puzzles. Why? It just weirdly fitting for his character

He definitely has C-PTSD following the events of Weirdmaggedon

Autistic Ford? Autistic Ford. There is no way he doesn’t have it- I said what I said

Before he got involved in the strange and paranormal, one of Ford’s main interests was actually crystals and rocks! It felt weirdly fitting for his character, and here we are

Ford is more of a cat person. At one point, he rescued a cat-adjacent creature from an auction and named her ‘Nova’. Of course, it’s far from a cat but well, we’ll get to that later

He would be into LARP if it exists in the Gravity Falls canon. Like, that man is a nerd and already enjoys the show’s version of Dungeons and Dragons, there’s just no way he wouldn’t participate in LARP

He does have scars from his time in other dimensions for thirty years. He’s very secretive about them and doesn’t let anyone see- not even Stanley

Ford deals with the aftermath of a burnt-out gifted kid- like, he was the prodigal son and got all the right honors, scores, all of it but as he got older- the more he struggled, the more he felt like something was missing. As the golden child, he was brought up with the notion he would be important but then got smacked in the face when he realized none of it truly mattered

He had a lot of issues adjusting to his new life in Gravity Falls, Oregon after he was brought back from the portal. Ford’s triggered fight-or-flight response would kick in with unexpected situations- like, he’s definitely pulled a blaster/space gun

He likes hot chocolate

Ford enjoys cuddle piles, let’s be honest here. Once he gets more comfortable, he begins making nests with the rest of the Pines family

He’s protective of his family!

I’ll try and come up with new headcanons soon, but since I took too long releasing this- given I got sick unfortunately, I decided to post a smaller version

#gravity falls #gravity falls headcanons #stanley pines #stanford pines #stan pines #ford pines #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #headcanons #character headcanons #late queue #this was supposed to be for their birthday but then i got sick ugh #my tail is thumping so hard #not a ful hyperfix at the moment unfortunately

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sungbeam · 2 months ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — part two

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

messing around with demonic rituals isn't exactly how you imagined getting bound to changmin's soul. (note to self: salt circles don't work when you draw the pentagram inside it...)

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, technically a college au, demon au (it's different from night terrors i swear. also it's not as intense lol), comedy, suspense/mystery, swearing (a lot... sorry 😭), drinking, low fantasy/supernatural elements, mentions of chronic illness, mentions of rituals and pentagrams, self induced soulmates? 🤔 but ofc 😂, kissing, mentions of blood, very small amount of violence (like one scene), what is a mfking slow burn like who needs to take their time w falling in love i sure don't 🤷🏻‍♂️, one allusion to death

▷ part word count. 18.5k out of 34.8k / read part one here

a/n: HI IF UR STILL HERE THEN YAY 😭 PLS DONT READ THIS WITHOUT HAVING READ THE FIRST PART. ALSO, ENJOY!

PART IV: THE SPELL

THERE WERE ONLY SO many ways to make a boy squirm. On top of that, there were only so many ways to make a demon boy squirm. Halfling status was of no consequence to certain observations of patterns involving the laws of attraction.

Case in point: Ji Changmin's dilemma.

“You look a little lost, man,” Hyunjae chortled into his friend's ear to bypass the bone-rattling volume of the house music.

Shuhua's friend Yangyang had thrown quite the rager in his shared house with his roommates. There was probably about a hundred people shoved into the first floor of the house, with some littered across the lawn outside and the backyard, too. The five of you had arrived as a unit and donated a few cases of beer to help the hosts out, but proceeded to grab your own drinks, disperse, and mingle.

Changmin coughed as he blinked furiously out of whatever daze he'd been in. His neck and ears had turned a brilliant shade of vermilion, but the dim lighting was his savior tonight. Oh, to have the shadows on one's side. “What?” he stammered.

Hyunjae's smile widened at his flustered reaction. “I'm sure Yn can introduce you to whoever her friend is.”

The roaring in Changmin's ears dulled considerably. “What?” he repeated, but this time, the word had an upward intonation at the end. Now he was confused.

He glanced back to where you were standing further into the living room. Who?

Oh.

Changmin hadn't even noticed you'd been talking to another person. His focus had been… elsewhere. Not that said focus was anywhere inappropriate in the name of Friendship—of course, the burn in his throat was the alcohol and the tightness in his chest was the soul-bond. That was all. He hadn't been considering the dress hugging your figure or the way your smile brightened your face—no, really it was the entire fucking room. He didn't want to linger on the thought of that torturous car ride over either, with his body pressed against your side and your perfume so sweet in his lungs. Was it possible to replace the very air he breathed with it?

Essentially: he was not faring well tonight. What had gotten into him? He'd attended plenty of parties with you before, and he hadn't been this strung up before.

Or maybe he had… he wasn't so sure of a lot of things at this moment. He wasn't supposed to be able to get tipsy on this human alcohol.

Only a week had passed since the soul bond was forged between you and him, too. Though he knew it was supposed to be an emotional and metaphysical link, he was certain it had nothing to do in terms of creating things that were never there in the first place.

Hyunjae grinned at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on! We should go introduce ourselves.”

For a moment, Changmin cringed at the thought of him appearing beside you with all the swagger he knew he lacked. He took a deep inhale and glanced back over at you… something in his mind flipped like a switch. “You know what? Sounds like a plan,” he said to Hyunjae, plastering a typical dimpled smile on his face.

The two of them maneuvered their way over to your position. As he gained proximity, the tightening in his chest gradually loosened, a rope slackening. Despite the loosening, it didn't mean the weight had gone away. The weight filled him with something comforting like his heart and lungs weren't alone in his ribcage.

He kept his eyes glued to you as he and Hyunjae neared.

You must have felt his gaze because you turned around to meet his eyes soon enough. There was a dilation in those pretty eyes and a smile that reached them.

“What have you been up to?” Changmin shouted to you over the music as he sidled up beside you. Your shoulders brushed against one another and he fought the urge to pull your form to his.

“Nothing much,” you chirped back, sharing his grin. You gestured to your talking companion. “This is Leona, by the way! She's a friend of Indigo's.”

Changmin finally pulled his eyes away from you. Leona, as you had introduced, was not someone he recognized. He didn't know many of Indigo's friends, but she smiled at him widely. “Nice to meet you!” she said.

“Nice to meet you, too. I'm Changmin,” he nodded back.

“And I'm Hyunjae,” his friend chimed in, raising a hand in greeting. “Did you come with Indigo then?”

Leona nodded her head. “I did! She went to go find Juyeon, so I'm not sure where they are now, but Yn found me wandering and we've been chatting since.” She flicked her attention back over to Changmin, and he cocked his head at the sight of something peculiar. He could have sworn there was a flash of electric blue in her eyes.

“Are you a student here?” he asked. He couldn't have imagined the blue, could he? But if she was a friend of Indigo's, then there was a good chance he hadn't.

“No, I'm from out east by Blue Brook,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm just in town for a couple of days visiting with my, uh, sisters.”

No, Changmin was certain now. Leona was a member of Indigo's coven. Blue Brook was where Indigo was from, and it was well-known amongst the supernatural community in this state as a witch's county. There were probably a dozen or so covens in that one area, but Indigo's was one of the largest. And if Leona was a witch, that meant…

Leona arched her brows at him expectantly. Demon? she mouthed.

Changmin stiffened beside you, and your head whipped over to him when you read her lips, too.

You swiftly turned to Hyunjae. “Hey! I'd love a drink, Jae. Let's go get one!”

Hyunjae's eyes widened as you snatched up his wrist and started hauling him in the direction of the kitchen. “Wha—hello? Bye, I guess?” he laughed in disbelief, sending a wink at Changmin through it.

Changmin pressed his lips together. He knew why you had taken Hyunjae away, but that didn't mean he liked it. Should it not be his wrist you were holding?

“She knows?” Leona's voice tore him out of whatever jealous stupor he was in. That cloud had returned to his head, the tightening to his chest.

He held his hand to his brow. “Yes,” he sighed. “Is there a reason you needed to make it so obvious?”

She shrugged innocently. “He didn't notice.”

“He could've.”

Leona wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh, loosen up. I forget that folks outside of heavily concentrated paranormal centers are so uptight about their identities. It's your heritage, for goddess's sake.”

“You mean you forget that you're privileged enough to live in a highly concentrated paranormal area,” he nearly snarled back at her. Adrenaline rushed into his veins with an uncontrollable velocity and bite. He wouldn't have gotten so worked up about this normally, but he already accepted that tonight was likely going to be filled with the irregular. “If you said it even louder than a whisper, that could've put you, me, and her in danger.”

Especially with some lunatic running around targeting demons with energy-draining curses, he couldn't be too safe.

The witch made a face. “I guess I know why Indigo's no fun now, too. No wonder you're friends…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes found someone behind Changmin.

Changmin peered back over his shoulder and locked eyes with a familiar face in the crowd. Indigo's dark eyes widened considerably at the sight of him before she began shoving her way through partygoers to reach him. He raised his arm up like a flag to signal where he floated in the ocean of people.

The crowd quite literally spit the poor thing out and she had to grapple onto his arm. “Where'd she go?” she exhaled out, head on a swivel.

“She's right—” Not here…? The place where Leona had been right beside him was vacated, as if she hadn't been there at all. Why did she run from Indigo?

“Changmin.” There was a desperate strain behind Indigo's voice as she wrestled his collar with her hands and dragged him down to look her right in the eyes to ensure he was listening. “Leona has been releasing empitachynsia synthios in the party. I don't know exactly where, but I found one broken flask of it on the second floor with Juyo.”

Empitachynsia synthios? In the Old Language most covens grew up learning, that term translated directly to ‘acceleration of emotion.’ Based on the vague knowledge Changmin boasted on potions, empitachynsia synthios was a potent liquid that turned into vapor when exposed to oxygen, affecting those who inhaled it by escalating their emotions to alarming proportions.

Changmin's eyes went as big as Indigo's. “She fucking drugged the party with an airborne stimulant?”

“Just the second floor,” Indigo corrected with a grimace, but she released the vice grip on his shirt collar. “I managed to convince Juyeon that it was someone's dropped perfume bottle, but I left him with Lee Minho on the porch to clear his airways.”

Changmin's head swam. Lee Minho—black cat spirit—okay, then Juyeon was fine. He dragged his hands through his hair with a groan. “Hell, if I had known, I wouldn't have turned away from her like that. Sorry, Indigo.”

“No, no, it's my fault for letting her come at all,” she dismissed with an anxious flick of her wrist, then flexed her fingers to crack her knuckles. “She's been acting strangely for the past few days and I should have taken it more seriously, but I thought it was because she needed to relax a bit.”

He exhaled through his nose and braced his hands onto his waist. “Yeah, she's got a loose mouth though, that's for sure.”

“Good goddess, what'd she say?”

“Let's just say that Hyunjae could've found out who I am.”

Indigo's face ashened to a horrified shade. “Shit. I'm so sorry about her. This is turning out to be more and more of a disaster.”

You can say that again, Changmin thought, but he wasn’t about to put the blame on Indigo for something that was her coven sister’s doing. Though, he couldn’t imagine what manner of thought convinced Leona to release such a strong, and potentially dangerous, potion into a house full of young adults. It didn’t matter that some were horny or hammered—all that mattered was that there would be consequences to this, and it wouldn’t even be their faults.

Indigo recruited his help to locate the runaway witch and Changmin was swift to agree. There were only so many places in this house that Leona could have run off to, but the problem was the amount of people here.

As he and Indigo hunted, he couldn’t help but linger upon the effects of empitachynsia synthios that he was aware about—its presence in the air must have been the reason for his own unrestrained thoughts earlier, both in regards to you and Leona. He convinced himself that that was the reason, not the bond or any feelings of his, but the artificial intensification of whatever miniscule feelings that lingered. The potion could not work from nothing—that wasn’t how magic worked—but he could stomach confessing to a little bit of the feelings from earlier.

This, however, should have not been his main concern. If he had even gotten a little bit of the potion in his system, then what about you? Were you feeling alright? Were Hyunjae and Shuhua unaffected? Hyunjae hadn’t acted differently from his usual self; he hadn’t had much to drink either—that applied to you, too.

Changmin could only come to a shaky conclusion that even if all of you had inhaled a drop of empitachynsia synthios, the dose was not strong enough to have any noticeable effect on your emotions.

It was some divine fortune or providence that, not even ten minutes later, Indigo reported that one of her friends had gotten a hold of Leona in one of the rooms upstairs. With all of the panic that had plagued the two of them, Changmin and Indigo agreed to take their separate ways for the night and to be grateful for a swiftly concluded catastrophe.

The remaining adrenaline left in his system fueled him in his search for you and Hyunjae, wherever the two of you had ended up. The bond had squeezed his chest cavity all throughout the past ten minutes when he was away. His senses led him toward the kitchen, whose crowd was hardly any better than out in the living room. He couldn’t quite differentiate the pounding of blood in his ears from the heavy bass in the house speakers; he could hardly hear himself think. But his eyes found yours and Hyunjae’s forms squished together in one corner of the kitchen, and there was no need for him to think anymore.

Hyunjae noticed Changmin first and tore his attention away from his phone where both you and he had been hunched over watching clips of cats on Instagram. “Hey, done so soon?” he posed the question with a teasing lilt in his voice.

The teasing, though no fault of Hyunjae’s, made Changmin’s eye twitch. Even the suspicion that Changmin was interested in Leona left him with a sour tongue and clenched throat. “Indigo came by,” he said with little inflection to signal the end to that conversation. He inclined his chin to you, who had yet to raise your head. “Oy, Y—”

Your head lolled slightly onto Hyunjae’s conveniently-located shoulder, and the shift in angle revealed to your two friends that you had, in fact, fallen asleep.

Changmin and Hyunjae shared a fond laugh between themselves, glancing at one another in silent agreement. The former quickly pulled out his phone to snap a picture of you unawares, saving it to the group photo album of drunk mishaps.

“How much did she drink?” Changmin lowered his voice, even if the music didn’t give a shit whether you were asleep or not.

Hyunjae screwed up his face into something like unserious exasperation. “I dunno what she was thinking, man. We were talking and she drank waaay too much of the flavored soju. You know how that stuff tastes and goes down like juice.”

Changmin bobbed his hand knowingly. “I think I’m done for the night, to be honest,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I can take Yn home. Have you seen Shuhua around?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” Hyunjae slipped his phone into his pocket and carefully swapped places with Changmin. “She came by with Yuqi to get refills of some cocktail and said that a few of them were playing Speed downstairs. I’ll probably go join them. Have you seen Juyeon?”

The weight of your head settled comfortably into the crook of Changmin’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help but gently ghost his fingers over your nose to brush the hair out of your eyes. “Huh? Oh yeah, he’s with Indigo and Lee Minho.”

Hyunjae stared between you and Changmin for a pregnant second, but nodded afterward. “Got it. Well, get home safe, man.”

Changmin clasped his free hand with Hyunjae’s. “Same to you.”

When it was only you and Changmin, your living and breathing pillow considered his current position. He did intend on escorting you home—you grew drowsy when you drank a little too much, and as Hyunjae asserted, it was the flavored soju’s fault; but he was loath to wake you from such a peaceful-looking nap. He twisted his head in a way to peer down at your face, your cheek squished against the muscle of his shoulder and your lip gloss leaving a shiny smudge on his shirt sleeve.

He exhaled a careful breath, then gently gave your shoulder a shake. “Rise ‘n’ shine,” he sang. The grin on his face was remarkably large and unsuppressable as you stirred with a small whine.

“There’s a new picture in the drunk folder, isn’t there?” You glowered while lifting your head up and blinking to adjust your vision. You squinted your eyes at him. “You’re not Hyunjae.”

“Is that so disappointing?” He hoped his voice didn’t betray the miniscule shard of bitterness that just pricked his chest. He reached over and helped you with an errant strand of hair; there was no need for him to sulk when he was the one with you now. (Hell, did he think like this all the time or was the potion still in his system?)

You still couldn’t open your eyes much and you yawned. “No, of course not. What time is it?”

“It’s nearly half past midnight.”

“Not bad,” you said. You yawned again, gingerly dabbing at the corners of your eyes when they began to mist. “I think I drank more than I planned to.”

Changmin chuckled, “Yeah, I figured. C’mon—I’ll take you home.”

The pair of you departed out through a side door in the kitchen, a rather convenient exit that helped you evade wading through the living room crowd to get to the front door. The alleyway on the side of the house was illuminated only by a single light above the kitchen door to accompany the trash bins.

You stumbled alongside Changmin with your wits not having returned yet.

His hand bumped against yours. “Can you walk?” he laughed, glancing over at you.

“If I said no, would you carry me?”

Perchance his pulse jumped. “Sure.”

There was nothing, to him in that moment, more lovely than the way you lit up like the fucking sun. Even the shadows in the alley washed away briefly in awe of your elation—an elation he elicited. “Really?”

His cheeks dimpled and a laugh, breathy but giddy, tumbled out of his mouth. “Yeah. Hop on.”

Thus, Changmin found himself strolling along a deserted sidewalk with your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms draped loosely over his shoulders. You had your head tucked into the warmth of his neck as you focused on trying to arrange an Uber to come pick the two of you up at the nearest 7-Eleven; Changmin fought every instinct in him to be still, including his heartbeat. There would be no hiding, even if you were drunk and less observant. Something about your weight on his back eased the ache in his chest at the front.

The night had a bearable chill to it. He rather enjoyed the silence encapsulating you and him, and the shadows clinging to his heels as if they were his guardian. Every so often, he would step into the glow of an amber circle of light and watch your entwined silhouettes cascade across the sidewalk.

“How’s the Uber situation coming along, sweetheart?”

He held his breath until you answered. “Almost,” you murmured in a small voice, focused. The white light of your phone screen streamed up the underside of his jawline from where you held it and also clung to him. “Done!”

He smiled and refrained from turning his head; that would be a dangerous thing to do with your mouth quite literally against his throat. “Good job. When will they be there?”

“I scheduled it for 1:30,” you replied matter-of-factly. You turned your phone off to ease the light shining up into his face, and settled your head against his shoulder in a more comfortable position. “Minnie?”

Ba-bump. “Yeah, Yn.”

“I remember why I drank more than I intended to earlier.” At his quiet prompting, you continued, “Hyunjae was asking about you. It was… he was kind of skirting around it, but he was kind of saying that we’ve been acting weird lately. He mentioned something about you and Leona—I think he saw that she mouthed the word ‘demon’ to you. So I got a little worried and thought if I got a bit tipsy, he’d change the subject.”

Changmin’s steps faltered, but he recovered neatly. A lump seemed to have lodged itself in his throat and it was no longer because he could feel your breath against his pulse. “Is that right,” he muttered, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He had been so careful, too, and all it took was one, little word to shatter his efforts. “Thanks for getting drunk then,” he jested in an effort to lighten his own mood.

“Maybe he doesn’t actually know,” you said to him quietly. “It took you at least two tries to get me to believe you, and Hyunjae’s more of a skeptic than I am.”

But Changmin simply couldn’t be too sure. Of course, what you said held ground, but paranoia was often a pebble in his shoe. “Don’t… don’t worry too much about it, okay? I’ll figure it out as we go.”

“I’m here for you, too.” You lifted one of your hands to give his head a pat. “Well, I’ve always been here for you, but now that I know your secret, you don’t have to hold onto it alone.”

He couldn’t fathom how mere words could warm him from the inside out as if you had taken a handful of whatever sunshine you radiated and placed it in his core. When you had asked him that day why supernaturals were forced to hide their identities from humans, he didn’t linger on the idea of his words sticking with you. He supposed he had underestimated you in that way—you were his friend, and you cared about him as much as he cared about you. Of course you would take those words to heart.

And perhaps that was what eased his anxieties about Hyunjae for the time being. He and Hyunjae were as good of friends as you and him; giving him the benefit of the doubt was what felt right.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

You hummed. “I’ll protect you, Minnie. Hyunjae—well, I guess it should be Leona, huh? Leona can catch my hands.”

Changmin’s joyful laugh echoed against the nearby houses. “Oh, you’re too cute.”

He felt your sigh even more than he heard it. “You’re always laughing at me,” you sulked. “I’m trying to be sincere here. Hey, that rhymed.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He was not super sorry; the grin wouldn't leave his face. “Thank you, Yn. Really.”

By the time you and Changmin raided the 7-Eleven, caught your Uber, and returned to your apartment complex, it was swiftly approaching two in the morning. Your knees no longer wobbled like those of a newborn giraffe, so you walked beside Changmin to your apartment unit. The hallway, alight with its typical blinding fluorescents, was appropriately deserted and effectively made even the smallest of whispers ricochet like the acoustics in an arena.

Changmin had walked this path to your apartment door dozens upon dozens of times before, and though the scenery and the smell hadn’t changed a bit, the feeling that nestled itself into the very fibers of his being had. The ache in his chest, the inconsistent thrumming of his heartbeat, and his headspace had all changed.

Your keys rattled with a tinny sound as you isolated your apartment key from the others. You shoved the carved metal inside the locking mechanism, then sent him a sidelong glance. “Wanna come in for a bit?”

His mouth went dry and it was difficult to pull his lips into the shape of the words that he didn’t want to say. “You should sleep. We should both get some sleep.”

He liked to think he imagined the slow blink of your eyes and the way your eyelashes brushed over the fleeting disappointment in them. “You’re right,” you sighed good-naturedly. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as a thought occurred to you. “I do have to be up in a few hours; I almost forgot.”

“Why’s that?” he chuckled, and the image of your feet propped up on your desk as you finished a last minute reading for one of your classes painted itself in his mind’s eye.

“Ah, uhm, Chan’s driving me up to see my parents and his sister.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could reel them back into your throat.

Changmin’s expression shuddered as the carefully constructed bubble that had formed around his reality tonight burst. The brightness of the hallway lights were suddenly stifling, and he feared what exactly lurked behind its artifice. It reminded him so starkly of your childhood friend—the cordial and warmth he put on as a show a stark contrast to a foreign murkiness that lurked below the surface of the water. There were only so many ways to make Ji Changmin squirm.

He managed a smile to reassure you. You didn’t have to censor yourself on his account, and he wished to know how you filled your days anyway. “Oh, that’s cool of him. Hope you guys have a nice trip home tomorrow,” he said, then brought his arm around your shoulders to bring you into a partial hug before he could talk himself out of it.

You reciprocated the action, but with both of your arms, slotting your bodies against one another so you were two hearts and one body for a second. “Thanks,” you murmured into his shirt. “And thanks for taking care of me. I should be the one taking care of you.”

Changmin pressed his cheek to the side of your head, his arms locking around your waist. The hidden implications behind your words weren’t lost on him, which was why he had told you that he would be good about the soul-bonding thing; about taking care of himself, so that you weren’t forced to in the name of your own privacy and safety.

He was the hazard out of the two of you, after all.

“You do,” he assured you. “You do take care of me.” By continuing to be normal with him, by continuing to treat him as you had always done, he could rest easy at night knowing that he still had a place in your life despite being who he was.

Love was felt in his chest where you belonged—you had made the bones of his ribcage your home, kept his lungs from collapsing, and rested your head against his heart at night. The bond had inadvertently made him two halves of a whole, and he could no longer bear to be without the other half.

There was too much negative space, you thought, as you laid in bed that night (morning). The ceiling was a rather interesting thing to look at with its imperfect, popcorned edges and the dark masses lying in the bottom of the lights, the dead carcasses of foolish insects who couldn’t help themselves.

In particular, there was a distinct lack of someone else. It was strange how fast another’s presence could grow on you, but how could that be when the two of you had already been friends for a couple years? When had spending time with Changmin become essential to easing an unseen ache in your chest?

When you were in the 7-Eleven earlier tonight, Changmin had filled you in on what had really happened at the house party. The idea of a witch being in your midst, releasing a perfumed potion that could escalate someone’s emotions was a frightening prospect. How many other times had you been in similar situations and none the wiser?

And if that potion had worked its way into your system or Hyunjae’s or Juyeon’s or Shuhua’s, then how did it affect Changmin?

A mental image flashed in your head. The first time one possessed another’s body would almost always feel akin to a dream. You were looking at yourself from an outside perspective at the party, your head tucked toward your chest as you slouched over Hyunjae’s shoulder. The body you were seeing through had laughed with him—subconsciously, you knew, exactly which laugh belonged to whom. But when he had pulled out his phone to snap a picture, that was the moment it came together.

When you woke up on Changmin’s shoulder at the party, you couldn’t be too sure that it was a dream; it had felt too real. Your physical body had yanked your astral form back into its vessel right before your eyes opened.

You lifted your hand up to your face in the dark and graced your fingers over the path Changmin’s had when he brushed the hair out of your sleeping face.

That same hand fell onto your sternum, the hard bone at the very center where you imagined your soul to rest deep within. You wished you could wrap your hand around the line that connected you to him, because then, maybe you could cling to it… and maybe it would make more sense as to how your mind ended up in his body tonight.

PART V: THE DIABOLICAL

TRUTHFULLY, 8AM was too early to be pondering moral dilemmas. Options as to how you would tell Changmin about your out-of-body experience flipped through your mind like a deck of flashcards. You were a hypocrite. You were a massive, clown-faced hypocrite whose thumbs hovered over her keyboard as you debated on how best to start the text message:

Option 1: Heeeey, you know how I gave you shit about possessing my body without permission? Well… we're even now.

Option 2: Guess what lol I might be going insane but I might have had a dream that wasn't a dream about possessing your body.

Or, last and certainly least, option 3: I'm pretty sure I'm interpreting your gestures wrong because I have feelings for you. Also, did I mention that I possessed you during my nap last night?

When you were drunk last night, you couldn't be so certain. (Saying this was if sleeping for less than three hours would've helped clarify your memory any better. Drunkenness and sleep deprivation were more alike as states of brain rot than one might think.) Nonetheless, you determined that you were in the wrong—not because you possessed him; that was an accident. You were in the wrong because you had contemplated murder for Changmin doing the same thing to you.

The question was: how? How were you able to take your soul and jump physical bodies? Changmin said this bond was largely for the benefit of the demon, but he also mentioned that the only reason his experience occurred was because he was exhausted.

If control was the baseline of demonic magic, and Changmin was under the influence of a powerful emotional stimulant, would that justify how you were able to pull it off?

(And if he really was under the influence, did that mean you were getting your hopes up about your feelings being reciprocated? Option 3 was looking less and less attractive.)

You chewed on your bottom lip meditatively as the driver's side door opened to your left.

Chan sighed as he dragged his seatbelt over his chest. “I can't believe I forgot to get gas last night,” he said, cranking the engine. “I could've sworn I did.”

“Maybe you just imagined it,” you teased quietly. When you peered over at him, you couldn't help the frown tugging down at the corners of your lips.

The eye bags and puffiness weren't exactly subtle on him. You could acknowledge that it was rather early for both of you to be up and at 'em, but it was essential to hit the road early since the drive was almost three hours.

Chan gave his head a rough shake in the same manner as a wet dog would. “Guess so,” he said before a yawn cut him off.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive?” You plucked one of the paper cups in the cupholders and handed it to him.

He gratefully accepted the cheap gas station coffee and took slow, measured gulps of the scalding liquid. “I think I should be fine. You should rest; you didn't get a lot of sleep last night, right?”

As he began pulling the car out of the quaint lights of the gas station proper, you adjusted your sitting position. “Chan,” you mused, “you look worse than I do right now. Were you up late last night, too?”

“Maybe a little later than usual… I was just—y’know, preparing some things for today.” He nudged his blinker on and craned his neck to check for oncoming traffic. When it was safe, he pulled out onto the road.

At this point in the morning, there weren't many cars accompanying the two of you on your journey north. The sky was a blanched blue further enfeebled by the pale autumn sunshine. You would instinctively settle in to watch the passing scenery—mountain ranges, pastures, and the like—but you continued to keep one eye on your driver this time around.

“Preparing things,” you repeated softly, turning your phone off having long given up on deciding on a text message to Changmin. “Are you—are you okay? Is everything okay?”

He liked to fuss over you, but you weren't ignorant to his own struggle. Chan was the one who faced adversity, not you—at least, in your mind. Sure, you faced your own troubles, but it hurt you to see him hurt. The two of you hadn't been as close recently, which was no fault of yours or his; people drifted apart sometimes. That was the way of life, but it didn't mean your care for the other waned even the slightest.

Chan physically loosened up his tense muscles. “Yeah, of course. I promise that I'm fine.”

Your eyes shot wide open as they tracked a trickle of something dark and viscous seeping down from his nose and into the cradle of his Cupid's bow. “Oh my god.”

Your friend's eyes flitted off the road for a second. “What?” He brought a hand up to his mouth and pulled it away. “Shit,” he muttered and gritted his teeth. The blood had dribbled into his mouth now to stain the white of his smile a gory crimson.

“I think you need to pull over,” you fretted as you tore through the center console for tissues.

Chan clutched the ball of tissues in one hand and held it up to his nose. “I'm fine, Yn—”

“Pull over. Now.” There was enough force behind your voice to make him twitch, but you suspected that the slight tremor wasn't unnoticeable either. Just how much had he been overexerting himself lately? “I'm driving.”

He didn't have a choice. Defeat clung to the tails of his exhaustion, digging the grooves of his eye bags deeper. Chan didn't argue as he pulled off to the side of the road.

You didn't have to pretend to be even a little angry—you were frustrated, yes, but only because he was clearly not in the state to drive for three hours. It was irresponsible and stupid, you wanted to say to him.

But after swapping seats and glancing over at him in the passenger seat, you opened your mouth with no voice to use. Chan couldn't meet your eyes as he kept the bloody wad of tissue to his nose. You didn't have the heart to reprimand him, and he sure as Hell didn't need that from you.

You reined in your concern and resumed the drive.

Changmin wondered if texting you was too desperate. Before one judged him too harshly, there once was a time when he didn't think about interactions like this as if they were rocket science. There was a time when he could text you with ease and without stress.

That was no longer the case.

“Please tell me you didn't spend the entire morning on your phone. That's a horrible example for the kids, you know.”

Changmin had known Aunt Jenna and her husband Kian were outside the door before they could pull out their house keys. His two cousins, who were reading and napping, respectively, on the rug scrambled to their feet with screeches of welcome to their parents. Changmin pretended their pitch didn't nearly destroy his eardrums. “No,” he protested, “we finished their homework really fast, so we were just chilling.”

“Yeah, eomma. We were just chilling!” parroted the youngest of the two—Dae—as he clung to his father's arm like a jungle gym.

Kian gave a laugh as he waddled into the kitchen with his hands full of groceries and a kid. The second child, Julia, wrapped around her limbs around his ankle; hence the waddling.

“Just chilling,” Jenna deadpanned, unimpressed. She swiped the bags from Kian and set them on the kitchen counter, peering over at her nephew. “Well, were they good?”

Changmin dimpled, nodding. “Yup. I think they deserve ice cream.”

“Oppa gave permission!” Julia hooted.

“I've got it,” Kian mused, squeezing past his wife in the narrow kitchen space. “Kids, go grab your jackets and we'll go down to the store.” He glanced between Jenna and Changmin. “We'll give you two some space.”

As soon as the front door slammed shut and the sounds of eager children disappeared down the hall, Jenna joined Changmin in the living room. Today was the day Changmin promised his aunt he would watch her kids. Rather than being out the entire day, Jenna and Kian promised to be back once they'd completed their long list of errands. Changmin didn't mind watching his cousins for the past few hours; they were, over all, decently well-behaved. (Plus, it was easy to bribe them with the promise of ice cream for good behavior.)

Jenna hiked up one leg beneath her as she claimed the opposite end of the couch from him. “How are you? Has it fully faded?”

Ah, there was no beating around the bush then. He sucked in a breath, but nodded. “I'm pretty sure, yeah. I haven't felt anything for at least a week.” It was strange to go from a period of sporadic headaches to none at all. It was like waiting for a dormant volcano to suddenly awaken; would the curse strike again and how soon?

How did he even come to be cursed? Now that was the question of the hour.

“Good, good. I don't… I can't sense it from you anymore,” she said, nibbling on her fingernail. “You had me worried there, Changmin-ah. How's your friend? Her name's Yn, right?”

A smile crawled onto his face. “You and Mom are always so bad with names.”

“I got it right, though,” she pointed out, but didn't deny his accusation.

“Yeah, she's doing alright.” He licked his lips and became contemplative. At least, he was pretty sure you were doing alright. The memories of last night came rushing back at him in a dizzying whirlwind of laughter, thrills, and warmth; the undeniable wholeness in his chest, your lips at his pulse. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I'm trying to focus my efforts on the curse situation now though,” he said after clearing his throat. “I think that should take priority.”

Jenna gave a grave nod. “I'm inclined to agree.”

“Right. I reached out to that one guy you told me about.”

“Oh, the prince? Did he answer?”

Changmin hummed an affirmative. “You said he's a… demon prince. What circle is he from and how the Hell was he let out?”

Out of all the years Changmin knew his Aunt Jenna, it never ceased to amaze him that she was friends with a duchess of Hell. She was more of a social butterfly than his mother, but the extrovert quality didn't necessarily grant one the keys to class mobility and intermingling. Demon pride ran as dense as concrete most of the time, so it was a wonder that Jenna kept in touch with her highborn friend even after moving to the human world.

Jenna squinted one eye. “Ah,” she drawled, “pretty sure he's only second prince. His older brother's inheriting the throne to the third circle.”

Damn. A prince to the third circle, huh? Changmin chewed his bottom lip and his knee began bouncing up and down fervently. He was aware that there were plenty of the supernatural among him on campus, but he didn't go out of his way to interact with them. There had been a party here and there, but he couldn't get away with too much since his closest friends were all human.

“Well,” he continued from earlier, “he replied to my text and agreed to meet with me.” The task had been surprisingly easy. He imagined demon princes, or demon mobility in general, to be unbearably arrogant with each boasting an ego the size of the moon; however, this prince didn't treat Changmin any differently than if he were a classmate with a mutual friend. It was… nerve-racking.

“That's great! The hard part is over.”

Changmin made a face. “I really don't think that was the hard part.”

She flicked her wrist flippantly. “Nonsense. He'll be just as anxious to uncover the culprit as you are.” Jenna cocked her head to the side in thought. “And, well, who knows? Maybe he knows how to break a soul-bond.”

Changmin cradled his hopes for this interaction close to his chest as the day went on. He was supposed to meet this guy in the early afternoon at one of the music studios by campus—apparently, he practically lived there. Word through the hellfire was essentially that this prince was barely seen at his apartment, in class, or outside for that matter.

Suffice to say that Changmin hadn't a fucking clue what he was walking into.

He chained up his bicycle just outside the studio building with his phone's GPS open in one hand and the other absentmindedly rubbing at his chest. (It had been tight all day; you must really be at home, hours away from where he was.)

He glanced up at the unassuming brownstone facade towering above him. This was supposedly the place. The numbers 1117 were tacked onto the side for the building's street address, and Changmin triple checked that it coincided with the address sent to him.

When he was satisfied, he strode over to the front door and let himself in.

The interior of the building was a labyrinth of its own with white plaster walls that looked the same down every corridor. The building designer had left a small mercy, however, in the form of a large directory in the lobby with arrows directing the weary wanderer down a certain path depending on their desired studio number.

Changmin located the number and followed the signs. Before long, he stood before a sleek, black door with A8 emblazoned on its surface. He inhaled deeply, then knocked.

A long moment passed.

Changmin drummed his fingers against the seam of his pants and glanced up and down the empty hallway. Did he get the wrong room?

As if the demon prince could hear his thoughts (Changmin wouldn't be surprised if he could), the door opened. A light brunet poked his head out into the hallway, his eyes large like a doe's and paired with a rather warm smile. “Ji Changmin, I presume?”

Changmin cleared his throat, awkwardly bending himself at the waist in a hasty bow. “Yep, that's me.”

“Not here, not here,” Prince Kim Hongjoong of the Third Circle hushed with a grimace. He flicked his hand in the air, widening the opening to flag him inside. “You really don't need to bow to me, man.”

Oh. There wasn't anything Changmin could think to say except to mutter out an apology under his breath. He ducked into the dimly lit studio, and Hongjoong shut the door behind him. The studio itself was larger than Changmin expected with a small couch shoved into a corner, an expansive mixing desk with a couple monitors, a mini fridge tucked beneath, and a recording booth that spanned the entire back half of the room.

A demon's vision, even a halfling's, didn't worsen or get better with more light, but Hongjoong still turned it up. “Sit, sit,” Hongjoong insisted, gesturing to the couch in the corner. He took his own perch upon the office chair by the mixing desk.

Changmin stiffly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch and placed his bag by his feet. He placed his hands on either of his knees. “Ah, thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” he said.

Hongjoong nodded. “Sure!” That smile was both beautiful and sharp; Changmin couldn't put his finger on it, but it was the epitome of demonic royalty. Hongjoong's expression sobered slightly. “But when you said something about the curse going around lately, I did think that it would be best to talk about it as soon as possible.”

“Right, same here. Were you inflicted by it at any point?” Changmin decided that Hongjoong didn't look any worse for wear, but not everything could simply be observed upon the surface.

“I was lucky,” he replied, shrugging. “Probably because I don't go out much, but I can't be too sure. What about you?”

Changmin dipped his head once. “My aunt says I was, and I had been feeling more exhausted than usual and had random headaches. It's faded by now—but that's because I'm half-blooded.”

Hongjoong nodded his head in understanding. “Okay, glad to hear you're not doing too bad now and the curse was able to fade for you” —he paused, massaging his jawline, before turning to his laptop on the mixing table— “that clears something up for me, at least. Here—I’ve been putting together a document with my findings.”

Changmin stood from his seat and leaned over the desk to see the screen. It seemed that despite Hongjoong's lack of touching grass, the prince did get down to business. He wondered if all princes of Hell were so attentive to their species’ needs; cynicism though told Changmin that they weren't.

“Basically, with your testimony, it seems that whatever curse was performed was intended to only affect those of demonic heritage.” Hongjoong scrolled down to one portion of the document to add in this new nuance. He then worked his way down to a section where there were three images pasted side by side on the screen. Changmin recognized that they were books, but he couldn't identify their titles or purposes. “Which then narrows the curse's point of origin.”

Two images were deleted. The one left was a tome fitted with a dark colored cover. Deep purple veins seemed to scar the black and its edges were torn and crumpled like decaying flesh. There were letters engraved into the front—Changmin squinted to read them: nem focta diabolica. It was an old dialect, more similar to Latin than the more modern dialects used in Hell.

“‘For diabolical deeds?’” he murmured. His eyebrows creased. “That's the Book of the Diabolical?”

Hongjoong hummed, “Yes. You've never seen it?”

“Not until now,” he said while shaking his head. A shiver rattled down his spine and he braced his hand on the desk by the laptop. The Book of the Diabolical was one of the several forbidden cursed magic tomes that existed throughout the realms. Each tome was stuffed full of curses written to specifically target a species. The often lethal effects and methods of use were why most originals were banned and locked away. “But you said that my testimonial is what confirms that this was only targeted toward demons. Could we not have assumed that based on reports of who have been affected?” The reports had only noted a pattern of demon victims. If anybody else was affected, word would have likely been spread.

“Yes and no,” the prince replied. “We can make a judgment call based on reports, but your experience specifically is what gives us cause. If your mild symptoms are due to your half non-demoness, then we can now conclude that the curse is only supposed to work on demons.”

Changmin straightened as his mind went to work, putting together the pieces. “So now we just need to find out who is in possession of the Book of the Diabolical.”

A solemn nod. “I thought it would be easier to track down, but there's been nothing through my contacts about recent acquisitions. We know there are copies of the book that exist, too. It's just… ah, frustrating.” Hongjoong combed a hand through his dirty blond strands, a muscle twitching in his jaw at the thought.

It must have been another layer of aggravating to be a prince and have no control over the situation. Changmin truly could only imagine. “Do we know exactly which spell was used? I know it's energy-stealing, but the nature of it could lead us toward an answer.”

Hongjoong leaned back into his chair as Changmin settled his back against the edge of the table. “I do,” the prince said. “I consulted my circle's chief authority on magic and she mentioned that it was a spell that took energy in order to transfer it to another living being. The spell is also able to locate demonic entities without knowing them personally, so any demons within a certain radius of the spell would be cursed.”

At his own utterance, Hongjoong lurched into an upright position. “So we need to determine where the curse was performed!”

Changmin jolted slightly at his sudden exclamation. “How do we do that? Is it like checking for radiation poisoning?”

“Kind of. We'd just need a sample to match.”

“I'd offer my blood, but I'm not sure how potent the magic is any—”

There weren't many ways to describe what happened simply because Changmin himself couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

One moment, he could breathe perfectly fine; the next, he'd doubled over, desperately clawing at his chest as every ounce of air left his body and refused to come back. Black spotted his vision, narrowing his sight into a tunnel as his knees slammed against the ground.

His blood thundered in his ears as the pain in his chest seized his body whole. Someone had taken a knife and carved their way down the center of his chest.

Then, as quickly as it'd come, it was gone.

Sweat dripped down the sides of his face as Changmin greedily inhaled air into his lungs. Hongjoong was right in front of him, his arm hoisting his body into an upright position. He was murmuring something, but the sound was muffled… little by little, the pain and the blood in his ears dwindled to nothing but a terrifying dream.

Changmin grabbed at his chest as if he could feel the strained pull deep down where soul lived—where you lived—

His eyes shot wide open. “Yn.” The stabbing sensation that pierced his chest now was no longer physical agony but pure, unbridled fear.

He fumbled around for his phone and Hongjoong grabbed it from where it had fallen onto the floor. Worry creased the prince's brows. “Are you okay, Changmin? Who's Yn?”

“My—my soul—” Changmin dialed your number, half blinded by the sweat and tears blurring his vision.

Hongjoong seemed to understand. “Something happened to her?”

“I don't—I don't know.” All he could think about was the fact that you were with Chan and that he was afraid.

You and Chan arrived at your parents’ house just before the clock hit noon. Your childhood home was much like it was when you left and visited every break: half-dead azalea bushes and a rusted wind chime hanging over the porch; hallways and a stairway adorned with the occasional family picture and portrait from over the years; and the smell that clung to the walls, and when bottled up, would be called “home.” It had been where you and Chan spent so many of your formative years together running, playing, crying, and living.

Lunch was eaten at home, and while you stayed to help your parents out with a few errands, Chan went ahead to the nearby hospital to see his sister.

You followed behind him nearly an hour after he'd left, your stomach full and your hands buried beneath a basket of treats that your parents put together for Chaeyoung. Flowers had been considered, but then your dad reminded your mom that flowers could not be eaten, and that had marked the end of that conversation.

The room the nurse's station directed your toward was down a lengthy hall of clean white. You'd consumed media before—books, shows, movies—where a character had a distinct aversion to hospitals because it reminded them of a lost loved one or a moment of distinct pain and weakness. Whenever you passed by the open doors or closed curtains of these rooms, you couldn't help but wonder how many of these people thought the same.

At the end of the hall, you stopped before a closed door whose accompanying window was sealed off with closed blinds. You couldn't tell by squinting through the slits if Chan and Chaeyoung were inside, but there was a little whiteboard off to the side with “Lee Chaeyoung :)” written in dry erase marker.

You lifted your fist up to the door, gently knocking upon its surface. When there wasn't an answer, you took the gamble to let yourself in.

Either the hospital was generous this time, you thought to yourself, or Chaeyoung just got really lucky. The room was spacious for a single person, but there was only room for one bed. Shoving a second in here would have been cruel and unusual punishment. The television hoisted onto the opposite wall from the bed was playing an old episode of Friends at low volume, a comfortable white noise for the sleeping form tucked into bed.

You carefully tread over to the bedside where you saw Chan's backpack left on the chair. You set the basket as quietly as possible onto the nightstand, your eyes flickering over to Chaeyoung to ensure you didn't wake her.

Just as you were moving Chan's backpack off the chair, a book slipped out from the open zipper.

“Shit,” you whispered, barely catching it before it slapped against the linoleum. You'd seen a lot of books before, but this one… you peered at it with a small frown. It was incredibly worn at the edges and the cover design seemed to be something like human veins but in the color of a deep violet. There were words scrawled at the center, but you couldn't get a good look at them before you heard Chaeyoung stir from the bed next to you.

You shoved the book into Chan's bag and set the backpack down, simultaneously dropping your butt into the chair. “I woke you up, huh?” you winced.

Chaeyoung smiled sheepishly at you. Even with the nasal cannula and the formless hospital gown, she was beautiful. Though her skin was more blanched than usual, it didn't take away from the utter warmth she radiated in this sterile environment. In that way, she and her brother were so similar. “Hi, Yn-ie,” she mused. “And no, I was just pretending to be asleep.”

“Well, that's not very nice then. Were you planning to let me watch you sleep this whole time?” you teased back at her. Your lips pulled into a fond smile. “How are you feeling? Any better today, unnie?”

She lifted her hand up onto the railing of the bed and you gently clasped it with your own. Throughout the years, she had come to be almost like your own older sister figure, in a way. “I'm a little tired, but it doesn't hurt a lot, so don't worry. A little coughing here and there, but nothing a bit of water won't fix.”

You wished you could believe her.

“But enough about me. What's going on with you? Are you seeing anyone yet?”

You choked on your own breathing air, pulling a grin out of Chaeyoung. You had to let go of her hand in order to thump your own chest. “You sound like my mom,” you retorted as heat crawled up the back of your neck.

Chaeyoung made a movement akin to a shrug. “I'm bored; sue me… so are you?”

The silence in the room was enough to speak volumes. The way your mind immediately flashed to a particular demonic friend of yours made the tightness in your chest hum gladly. You rubbed the spot with the heel of your palm absentmindedly.

“Oh, well you have to tell me about them now,” Chaeyoung gushed, squeezing your hand. “You can't even deny it—your eyes just went so soft, Yn.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. How were you supposed to tell her that they were only feelings? The urge to tell her about the knot around your ribs was suddenly too great; it was like looking into Shuhua's eyes and denying everything to her. “He's,” you stammered, “we're friends.”

“That's usually how it begins,” she chimed in.

You fixed her with a look. “And he's…” How did one say “everything” without saying everything?

Chaeyoung grinned, knowingly. “I know you'll just deny it, but it's—” Her words broke off with a violent cough.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you scrambled off your chair to reach for the tissues on the nightstand. Her coughing fit raged on without a moment of mercy, not even to let her breathe air. Each one grated on you for your stupidity, for letting her waste her energy on coaxing an answer out of you.

She took the tissues gratefully, shoving them against her mouth as she hacked up globs of crimson red to stain the paper and sheets.

You began searching for water. Maybe medication. Anything that might soothe her for a second.

The door bursted open, and Chan and an older man with a white coat hurried into the room. You ducked out of the way as another nurse barreled in after them. The doctor and the nurse converged on Chaeyoung's bed and you held your hands close together by your chest as you stood next to Chan in the doorway.

“They heard her heart monitor skyrocket from the nurse's station,” Chan said quietly with his eyes on his sister's bed. His eye bags had not gotten better as the day dragged on, but you had been foolish to think for a second that this trip would make him feel any better. His hand gently warmed the place between your shoulder blades. “Come on. Let's give them the room.”

You and Chan ended up in the hallway just outside the door. Your back was pressed against the wall facing the window while Chan practically paced a hole into the floor.

Just a minute ago, he'd seemed almost resigned. But the energy around him had become frantic, frazzled. You grew wary and nervous simply by watching him, your fingers cracking knuckles and tugging at loose strands on your shirt sleeves.

He tore his hands through his hair for what felt like the fiftieth time, and you stepped forward. “Chan—Chan, please just sit down. You're going to tire yourself out like this.”

“Yn, I can't,” he said, and the tremble in his voice was unmistakable.

You grabbed his hands away from his head to force him to look at you, to stay still. “She's going to be okay.”

His eyes glittered with mourning. The jewels that welled up in his eyes poured down the slopes of his cheeks. “She's not,” he rasped, shaking his head. “They said she's getting worse and—and I—I don't know what to do anymore.”

There was a heavy pang in your chest, but you forced both you and Chan to the side of the hallway closer to some of the chairs left out. He balked, stopping in his tracks. “Yn, I don't know how to save her. I've tried everything.”

You squeezed his hands and your eyes began to sting. “I know you have,” you breathed out. “I know you have and I am so sorry.”

“I don't know, I don't know,” he sobbed. He hung his head. “It's my fault. I should've tried harder—I could've done better—”

“Chan,” you cut in, “why in the world would you blame yourself? You've done so much for her; Chaeyoung would never blame you for this, not ever.”

Chan lifted his head and you were so certain there was a glint of purple in his eyes, but there were so many tears it could've only been a trick of the light. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Anything.”

His fingers curled with yours and you believed that he was finally squeezing you back—that he was finally leaning on you. “Can you promise me that you're not chained to him?”

What?

You hardly registered what he just asked you when you keeled over. A searing pain ripped through your body and twisted around your sternum. It was as if someone had wrapped their hands around that central bone and was trying to tear it out of you. Your heart and lungs seized all at once—you couldn't breathe.

Oh my god—you couldn't—breathe—

Air rushed into your lungs all at once, and you found yourself grappling onto the sides of a chair. Chan was saying something to you—they were words, but words you couldn't hear correctly. …so sorry… can't… you… like me.

Your center of gravity tilted violently on its axis and leaned toward the ground. As blood pumped violently back into your skull, you could feel the cold embrace of unconsciousness pull you closer.

A pair of hands grasped yours again, and you felt something cool pressed into your hold. A cup? Water?

“Yn? Yn, can you hear me? I'm gonna call a doctor—”

“No, no,” you waved the comment away with a weak hand. Your vision gradually cleared along with the fog in your head. You groaned quietly, bringing the paper cup to your mouth and poured it down your throat. Your chest heaved with labored breaths and you slumped into the chair you were draped in. “I'm fine now.”

Chan's face was twisted into deep worry as he leaned over you. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yn, I can't lose you, too. That looked and sounded awful. What even happened?”

You closed your eyes. “I… I'm not sure.” It was like that one time you had nausea while Changmin was possessing you. But that wasn't nausea; whatever the Hell that had been, it was closer to your heart being clawed out than a measly migraine. “Would you mind just, uhm, getting me more water, please?”

“Yeah, of course. I'll get you a proper bottle from the vending machine.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You blindly patted his hand, and heard the sound of his footsteps soften as he hurried away.

You brought your hand up to your chest and let the warmth of your palm soothe the ache that haunted you. What was all that? There was no way that could have been a heart attack. You hadn't felt it in the heart.

“Shit,” you huffed as your phone vibrated in your back pocket. With a slight grunt, you managed to maneuver your hand beneath your body to answer the call. “Hello?”

A heavy breath filled your ears. “Oh Hell… are you okay?”

Déjà vu, much? You pulled the phone away from your ear to see the caller ID. “Changmin? How did you” —the pieces clicked together in your mind and you straightened in your seat— “oh my god, you felt that?”

“Are you okay?” he repeated instead with more strength.

“Yes, yeah,” you exhaled. The pain was slowly receding to the edges of your memory and breathing gradually became nature again. “Did you feel it, too, then? Are you alright?” The though of him enduring that pain at the same time as you—your heart might as well have fallen straight into the pit of your stomach.

You definitely weren't mistaken when you heard a sniffle from that side. “I'm alright,” Changmin said softly. “I just—I needed to hear—I needed to make sure you were okay.”

A smile pulled so strongly at your mouth that the corners curled downwards. “Well I'm okay now. I promise.”

“When are you coming home? I… I need to see you.”

Your free arm wrapped around your stomach and wished it was his. Unconsciously, your eyes raised from the glossy floor to the presence coming back down the hall with a water bottle in his hand. (Was it survival instinct that had you looking at him in a light you never once considered before?) “Soon,” you promised with all the tenderness in the world. “Wait for me?”

“For however long I need to.”

PART VI: THE CURSED

Nightfall swaddled the world in its embrace when Chan pulled his car into the parking lot at your apartment complex. The headlights sliced through like twin blades across the sidewalk to blind the bushes lining the building’s perimeter. Sleep hadn’t claimed you at any point during the drive back down to the university, and you could feel the dryness begin to sting at the corners of your eyes.

You grabbed your bag from between your legs as Chan let the engine thrum beneath you. “Thanks,” you said quietly.

“Yeah,” he muttered back, dragging a hand down his face.

The drive hadn’t been much better. If someone asked you to point to the exact moment you were aware of the rift between you and Chan, you wouldn’t be able to tell them. There was a cloud of uncertainty, dark and stormy, that now blocked the radiance you were used to.

You glanced out of the window with your palm ghosting over your chest and you locked eyes with a figure loitering by the entrance to your apartment complex. The jump in your heartbeat was confirmation enough of who it was.

Fingers grazed over your shoulder—you shifted away, something you had never done before. A meekness took over your counterpart’s face. “There’s nothing I could say, is there?”

“You’ve never brought this up to me before,” you countered. At some point between Chaeyoung’s hospital room and the apartment parking lot, you figured out what Chan had asked you and who he was referring to. ‘Chained’ was an interesting word choice; you foolishly decided not to dwindle on it too long while you were within five feet of him.

It was a lot to think about. The chasm that gradually stretched between you had never existed before, and it cracked through the bridge that was your history with him. Your immediate thought was that the bridge was worth saving, but whenever you leaned over to grab the flayed ends, there was something in the dark that snapped at your fingers.

“He’s… Yn, he’s not who you think he is.”

You shoved the car door open. “I’ll make that judgment for myself. Good night.” Without another word, you stole into the night and let the door’s slam echo in the quiet.

As you made your way across the sidewalk to Changmin, there was an undeniable skip in that reliable rhythm called a heartbeat. The more you closed the distance between you, the less your chest ached and tugged. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the sound of tires dragging over gravel and lights fading away, but if it wasn’t in your direct view, you didn’t quite care.

Changmin didn’t look hurt, at least from the outside. His dimpled smile graced his features as he took a few steps to meet you.

“Hey—” Your mouth muffled against the fabric on his shoulder as his arms scooped around you and pulled your body flush against him. An emotion bubbled up in your chest, then your throat, as you relaxed into him. The ache was gone, but he was here. You slowly brought your arms up around his middle and allowed the unspeakable to simmer.

You heard a small sound by where his face was tucked into your neck, and when the realization hit you, you could only laugh. “Are you sniffing me?” you snickered.

“You smell nice,” he sulked.

You patted his back. “So not only are we leashed, but you have also adopted the characteristics of a dog—”

“I’m letting go now.”

“Noo, don’t let go. I’m sorry,” you said and locked your arms around him. You both knew he could break out of your hold at any point, but in your arms, he remained. “Are you okay? You wanted to see me right when I got back.”

A breath was released against your skin, and it was so similar to the brushes of wind that he demonstrated early on as a physical manifestation of his power. “I needed to see you,” he corrected. “I needed to see that you were okay.”

The top-left quadrant of your ribcage fluttered. “I… yeah that was scary, wasn’t it?” you whispered. The phantom pain ignited within your breast for a moment, and you screwed your eyes shut. How could a single touch cause such physical agony? You were careening toward the truth you had been avoiding for hours now. You were peering into a dark chasm with no end to the bottom, but the longer you delayed, the longer it would continue to instill that fear and anxiety within you.

You cupped the back of his head with your palm, brushing your thumb through the strands of hair. “We need to talk.”

He hummed. “We do.” Changmin straightened and while one of his arms lingered about the curve of your waist, the other lifted toward your face. Before he could touch you, he stopped himself and pulled the hand back down to his pocket. “Are you tired? We could talk about this tomorrow?”

The thought of tomorrow morning’s lecture, but leaving the seat beside Shuhua empty, made your stomach sink. Your nod was reluctant. “I guess so… thank you for coming though. It was sweet—good. It was really good to see you. I—”

That hand from just a moment ago reappeared to cup the underside of your jaw and drew you over to kiss you.

(Under oath, Changmin would have admitted that there was a part of him that had been craving to kiss you since that day in his apartment when he confessed that murder from your lips was damningly divine; but if you were to ask him now, he would have said he simply didn’t want to say good night yet.)

You weren’t out of your wits enough to be completely slow as to what was happening. His touch was hesitant and bereft of the full strength he wished to impart. The brush of his lips against yours was fleeting and he was pulling away all too soon.

Cheater. You grabbed a handful of his hoodie in your fist and yanked him back over to you. You’re not getting away with that.

He stumbled in surprise, slapping his palm against the wall over your head. That arm was looping back around you in an instant, and your chests pressed together as if connected by opposite poles of a magnet. He was better this time around—sloppier, more fervent. His fingers dug into the meat of your waist, his mouth bruising against yours.

You wondered if a few minutes spent devouring the air between each other was enough to carve the other’s name into your mouths permanently.

His mouth glistened in the low light when you pulled away to relieve your lungs. Changmin’s eyes were hooded, pupils dilated to the black of deep space: consuming, but wondrous. “Another thing to talk about tomorrow then?” he exhaled out against your skin.

You nodded—that was a given—and you watched his eyelashes flutter as he leaned in again. Something deeply satisfied purred in the recesses of your center, somewhere only one’s soul might dwell. (Love was felt in your chest where he belonged, after all.) You breathed him in as he kissed you once more. It wouldn’t matter if the invisible string that tethered you to him eventually faded because your souls were far too comfortable with each other to ever let go.

The sun hung midway between the sky's precipice and the horizon, washing the world beneath it in a whimsical filter of gold. While Mondays were usually a lighter load for you, today happened to be the one you stacked all of your academic appointments onto. It wasn't until about three in the afternoon that you were able to see Changmin again.

You stepped out of your department advisor's building with your hand raised to shield your eyes. Waiting for you at the curbside and straddling his bicycle was the other half of your soul bond.

“You like guys with bikes?” Changmin grinned, half laughing as he nodded to you.

You threw your head back and couldn't fight the smile off your face. “You pick up all your girls like this?”

“That would be a yes, 'cause I only have one girl and I don't have a car.”

Your laugh bounced off the nearby walls and made Changmin's cheeks hurt from how wide he smiled. You made your way over to him, and he curled his hand around your waist, thumb rubbing into your hip bone. “Hi,” he mused.

“Hi.” Nothing had been said between the two of you since last night besides wishes of good sleep and to perhaps see one another in your dreams. (If dreams were considered a weakness to demons, it was safe to say that Changmin didn't give a damn.) You licked your lips. “So where do you wanna talk? Because we do have to talk about some things.”

“I know. Juyeon said he won't be home, so I thought we could go back and talk, and maybe… watch a movie, if that's cool.”

You snorted. “You kiss a guy once and he suddenly gets game.”

His eyebrows went sky high as he handed you his helmet to strap on. “Actually,” he scoffed, “we kissed at least f—”

“Ah!” You pressed your pointer finger to his lips, fixing him with a pointed look and ignoring the warmth in your cheeks. “That's semantics. Is this even safe, by the way?” you asked, gesturing to the back of his bike where he had a small rack installed over the back wheel.

“Yeah, you just need to hold on tight.”

You threw one leg over the middle and braced your feet over the two bars jutting out from either side of the back wheel. Your arms came around his nearly nonexistent waist, the side of your head resting against his backpack. “You just want me to hug you.”

Changmin laughed from the front. “You said it, not me!”

Who said sharing a bike was romantic? Certainly not you, but there was plenty of fluttering in your stomach that made you think otherwise. You didn't keep your face against him for long, and lifted it up to feel the wind across your cheeks and through your hair.

It was strange to think of him as a demon when you had known him longest as a good friend. There was nothing remotely unhuman about him, but what made someone a human? Was it physical traits or lack of magic ability? Was it the realm we hailed from or was it simply… prejudice and stereotype?

Whenever you thought back to that fateful night, you couldn't believe you'd harbored even an ounce of fear for him. A part of you thought he'd pulled all those stops to make you scared, but the other part knew that maybe they were necessary out of his own alarm.

When you arrived at his apartment complex, he locked up his bike in the room in the lobby. The two of you worked your way up to his floor, a light conversation bubbling between you about what movie you should watch after you filled each other in. Speaking about anything regarding the supernatural out in the open like this was not ideal.

“—it’s really not even that scary,” Changmin insisted as he fished around his bag for his keys.

You crossed your arms over your chest, unconvinced. “I know you've got a thing for Chucky, but—”

His mouth fell agape as he managed to grab his keys and shimmy open the lock on the door. “I do not have a thing for Chucky. That's just disgusting and perverted. I thought you were better than—oh. Shit.”

You were about to ask him what was wrong when you followed him in through the door. Seated on the couch was Juyeon, Shuhua, and Hyunjae, two of whom had their arms crossed and their faces fitted with matching masks of suspicion.

“Hi guys,” you greeted awkwardly and nudged the door closed. What were they talking about without you and Changmin?

“We’ve been expecting you—ow! We agreed that I was going to greet them,” Hyunjae hissed to Shuhua who had dealt a brutal blow to his ribs with her elbow. “Also, your elbow is so fucking bony—”

Shuhua harrumphed, sitting up straight with her chin inclined. “We’ve been expecting you. Juyeon purposely lied to Changmin so we could confront the two of you.”

You and Changmin exchanged nervous glances. Your counterpart then swiftly turned toward his roommate with an expression of betrayal. “You lied to me?”

Juyeon went doe-eyed. “I’m sorry, Changminnie—they made me!”

Hyunjae’s cough was annoyingly loud, and he thumped his fist against his palm like a gavel. What was this—court? “Ahem. We all agreed that we needed to catch you guys in the act and to hold an intervention. I tried” —he dragged out the word ‘tried’ as if he’d nearly died in the Sahara Desert while doing it— “to confront Yn about it at the house party, but then you went and got yourself drunk.”

Oh. You performed a mental rewind all the way back to last Saturday. Oh no.

You and Changmin gravitated toward one another’s side. “What exactly,” Changmin drawled with narrowed eyes, “are you holding an intervention about?”

“Guys, please. We’re not fucking stupid,” Shuhua huffed. “We know you’ve been sneaking around together. And whether you’re actually dating or just hooking up—”

You choked on your own spit.

“—we need to know if you’re committing friendcest.”

You had to hold back both a laugh and a tremendous sigh. This was about fuckass friendcest, not Changmin’s demonhood. You opened your mouth to relieve your friends of their concern when Changmin beat you to the punchline.

“We’re not sneaking around for that reason,” he said, his eyes flickering over to you. You felt the back of his hand graze yours, and you blinked at him. While it was true that the original reason you started sneaking around was not because of mutual attraction, there was a tablespoon of truth to that now. If last night hadn’t happened before this conversation, it would have been a lot harder for you to answer their questions, and if you had talked about the kiss before…

There was conflict across Changmin’s face as he warred with himself on how to properly put yours and his hunt into words that they would understand. There was undoubtedly a build-up of years’ worth of guilt mounting in him to put pressure on his reveal of the truth, but it was clear that he was still not ready for that conversation yet.

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “He’s lying. We have been dating,” you declared. It was an innocent white lie that was somewhat truthful. “We” —you cleared your throat as every pair of eyes darted over to you, including Changmin’s— “wanted to try it out. We only really have gone out a couple times though, and it hasn’t been long since it started. We’re sorry we hid it from you guys.”

Changmin’s eyes gleamed with gratitude as his fingers braided with yours and he cupped around your bound hands with his free one.

A beat of silence passed as the other half of your friend group exchanged glances with one another. Had they expected you to deny it?

At last, Shuhua broke out into an almost pouty smile. “I wish you guys didn’t hide it from us, but if you’re happy…”

“We hid it because we weren’t sure yet and didn’t want it to affect the group’s dynamics,” Changmin chimed in. He squeezed your hand at his side. “I mean, I’m happy.” He glanced over at you, cheeks dimpled. “You?”

You smiled back, nodding. “Very.”

Juyeon sniffled and clasped a palm over his mouth. “Ugh, this is so romantic. You guys look so happy together. I need to tell Eric and Indigo about this.”

“Man,” Hyunjae feigned exasperation, but even he couldn’t hide the large grin on his face, “I really thought this was gonna be more dramatic. Glad you guys really were just sneaking around and dating and stuff, and not like, hiding a body or anything.”

You and Changmin looked at each other again and produced similar sounds bordering on a suspicious level of nervousness. “Yeah… definitely nothing like that.”

The other three were, unfortunately, sharper than you liked to give them credit for. “Wait, what do you mean—”

“Bye now!” Changmin whisked you out of the apartment unit with a slam of the front door. Yours and his giggles wrapped around one another as you left, leaving your dumbfounded friends high and dry.

When you and Changmin had escaped to the end of the hallway by the stairs, you finally released the breath you had been holding. Keeping Changmin's secret was one thing, but lying to your friends was another. What you claimed back there wasn't a total lie, but in this case, perhaps ignorance was bliss. You didn't doubt your friends would be supportive of Changmin's heritage, but if it was something he wanted to continue to keep undisclosed, then that was his prerogative and it was not your truth to reveal.

Yours and Changmin's hands remained intertwined as you made your way back down to the lobby. Since his apartment was clearly occupied, you would need to find somewhere else to speak privately. The answer came in the form of a park nearby, who's trails and pathways were rather vacant at this time of day.

Changmin locked his bike and helmet up at the park's entrance before his hand found yours again. “We are dating now, right?”

You snorted. “That's the first thing on the agenda?”

“Well, yes,” he beamed boyishly at you, swinging your hands between your bodies. “Are you saying that what you told them back there was really a lie?”

“I mean, no,” you stammered. Heat prickled beneath the surface of your skin and you fought to avoid his direct gaze, so knowing. “We are dating, if you're okay with it.”

“Sure.”

“Sure?” you squawked. Such indignation in that pretty boy smile of his. Your expression flattened into a deadpan. “I suppose I do have something to confess before we put a label on it.”

Changmin smiled to himself. “This is the moment you tell me you're a serial killer, isn't it?”

“You're really sick in the head,” you joked back. “But no, I mean that… well—hear me out: that night at the party when I was asleep? I may or may not have possessed your body.”

Changmin halted so abruptly that you were almost yanked back into his body from your linked hands. “What?”

You squeaked out a nervous laugh. “It's not, y'know, that big of a deal. It was only for a few seconds, and it really could have just been déjà vu or something.”

“No. No, it makes sense.” He shook his head, then pressed the black of his knuckles to his pursed lips, eyebrows creased together in a pensive stare. “My mind wasn't the most stable, so I wouldn't have been able to stop you from coming across the soul bond. It's just an interesting notion to consider; I've never heard of a case like this before.”

“Ah.” You were glad he wasn't bringing up the utter irony of the situation. “Maybe you can ask Aunt Jenna, and I bet most demons don't regularly come across that potion very often.”

Changmin cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “That's true. There is something that I've been meaning to tell you though. I don't know if you remember the random headaches I used to get” —you hummed your acknowledgement— “but it was apparently because I, and other demons in this area, were inflicted by a curse.”

Your face shuddered. A curse? How long had he been holding onto this?

His mouth set into a line. “I didn't want to worry you, but my being half human pretty much saved my life. It was… something from the Book of the Diabolical—a curse that stole energy from one being to transfer to another.”

The Book of the Diabolical rang a distant bell in your head. “That's really scary,” you murmured.

“I—I know,” he said, taking you by your arms, “but I'm working with another demon on campus to solve it. It shouldn't affect you at all because they've only been targeting demons, but—”

“That's incredibly worrying for you to say—”

He exhaled, “I know, I know. I can take care of myself though, especially now that I have this other demon to help.” Changmin's grip on your body tightened, but not to an uncomfortable degree. His possession of your gaze was even more secure; there was an urgency within him that compelled you. “I'm telling you this now because… because I can't stomach the thought of you getting hurt, and I need you to promise me to be careful.”

You brought your hand up to cover the back of one of his. “But you said this curse only affects demons,” you whispered.

“Yes, but” —he cut himself off, tearing his eyes away for a moment. He bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. “I just have a very, very bad feeling about something.”

“Then tell me what it is,” you pushed. There was no way you could safeguard yourself if you didn't know what he was worried about.

Changmin considered you for a moment, then in a low voice, said, “It's about Lee Chan. I know you're friends with him, but I just can't put my finger on how he's connected to all of this.” Your eyes fell away from his, and his heart stuttered in his chest. His palm was gentle as he ran his thumb over your cheek. “Please. Please just be careful, sweetheart.” Please believe me.

At last, you nodded and slowly raised your head up to meet his eyes once more. “Okay,” you said, “I promise.”

There was a beat of hesitation in his heartbeat again—he couldn't bear to be without his other half.

Your conversation with Changmin was severed short when he received a call from his demonic friend—a Kim Hongjoong—about an update regarding the curse's residual essence. He biked you to your apartment complex first, walking you to your door. He left soon after, but not before bestowing a lingering kiss to your brow, the words between the stressed lines of his eyes imploring.

You promised to call him tonight, and you shouldered your way into your apartment. Your heart had not ceased to stop rattling in its confines since Changmin admitted his wariness about Chan. You didn't know why you didn't immediately agree with him then and tell him about your thoughts from the hospital day, but your thoughts whipped around in your mind, trapped in a violent rip current.

The reason you had looked away from him earlier was not because you doubted him, but because you feared those whispers of suspicion were quickly becoming your reality. It was a grave accusation to name Chan specifically, and to even suspect him having a hand in recent diabolical deeds, but you couldn't deny that your view of him was morphing into something else.

It wasn't right, you thought. Lee Chan was the sun—bright and warm. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Right?

You fumbled for the lights in your darkened apartment. It was strange that your roommates weren't home; usually they would have been. You suppressed a yawn as you failed to find the light switch for some reason. Had you been this tired all day? Your eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the second…

“Shit,” you muttered as your foot hit something solid on the floor. Your fingers caught the switch and light flooded into the room.

A gasp tore out of your throat. By your foot laid the body of one of your roommates, her limbs splayed sporadically, but her chest still rising and falling with breath. (Asleep?) You lifted your head, and a dooming chill fell over you as you realized that the body on the couch was your second roommate; and there—the third's hand poked out from behind the kitchen counter.

There was another aspect to survival instinct. It launched into effect as soon as you spotted a figure emerge from your periphery.

You whipped around and reached for the door handle, but to no avail. A strong arm caged around your middle and slapped over your mouth. Whatever was on his hands—dry, chalky—dragged a cough from your throat. Though your heart pounded in merciless rhythm, it seemed only to work to your detriment.

“Can't let you do that,” said the voice behind you, gruffly. It was familiar.

The world grew darker… dimmer… your body's thrashing slowed. You screamed and attempted to flail around, desperate to get free. Why the Hell was your body getting weaker? Why—why were you tired—

Just before you surrendered to unconsciousness, the epiphany slammed into you like a truck. The worst part was it was way too fucking late.

If desperate people found faith, then Lee Chan was admittedly the most desperate of them all. Most people—humans, it should be clarified—found faith with the established religions of the world. There were truly far too many to count, but desperate and depressed ten year old boys were more resourceful than others gave them credit for.

The problem was that Chan was a creature made whole by the love imparted onto him by you and his older sister, as well as the neglect and hatred sown by his parents. It made for a dynamic persona—a soul torn asunder by the people he yearned for most. He wished his parents could have cared more, then perhaps he wouldn't have cared so much.

(Though, if they had cared even an inch more than they had, he wouldn't have traded their lives for Chaeyoung's in the first place… maybe he would have still done it, but he might have regretted it, at least.)

Wasn't there a definable point when a hero became a villain? No, he didn't like thinking of himself in those terms. “Protagonist” and “antagonist” were far too restricting. It was similar to the stigma surrounding the forbidden tome of curses in his possession; why was it forbidden if it was so very useful?

The only thing was that it lacked the spell he seemed to need most right now: a spell to convince you of the pure evil you had bound your soul to. Whether it was inadvertent or purposeful, Chan would do you a favor: by severing the demonic soul bond, he could save you—his beloved little sister. He could save you and protect you from an ill-begotten fate.

But even as he settled your unconscious body over the summoning circle sketched in confident, chalk strokes, he racked his brain for any possible reason why you were bound. To what end was your bargain with Changmin? Were you so desperate as to strike a doomed deal with a half-demon? He considered your face with a frown; even in sleep, your browser were furrowed with stress. He needed to get a move on.

The Book of the Diabolical laid open atop your desk where he had pushed it into the corner. The entirety of your room was rearranged in order to give him a wide berth to work—bed shoved to the far reaches, drawers and file boxes relegated to the closet. The middle of the room featured your body over his summoning circle, rounded out with burned phlox candles who's scent suffocated the room in its bitterness.

Chan hunched over the book and consulted the line of curse he had tabbed with a sea otter sticky note. Over the past several years of his life, he dedicated himself to learning how to decode the old dialect of this tome in order to use it to its full reaches. “Asmantha's star for summoning, check. Burned phlox, mhm. Conscious blood of the victim…” his voice trailed off as he caught miniscule movement from the corner of his eye. “You're awake already? What a weak spell.”

Your body stilled. “Chan…?”

“Just another minute,” he promised and reached into his backpack down by his feet. He withdrew a slim paring knife he had brought with him from his apartment. “This'll all be over soon.”

His eyes scanned over the lines of directions. Without looking back at you, he said, “I also wouldn't do that if I were you.”

You froze with your fingertips centimeters away from the edge of the summoning circle. If your nail had so much as crossed the line, your body would have been rendered paralyzed. It wasn't a pleasant feeling—Chan knew from experience—but it was a necessary evil.

“What are you doing to me? What is all this?” you queried, your voice as small as a mouse's.

He could feel your eyes go to the paring knife in his grip, and the thought occurred to him that it was troubling you. Chan turned around then with a reassuring smile, only to be met by your eyes, so round with fear. Oh. “Yn, this is for your own good,” he crooned sweetly with all the boyishness that you were used to. “I'm just doing you a favor. I know demon bonds are really hard to get rid of. They're nasty things, but I have a way to do it with minimal damage.”

You eyed him warily from your side of the line. “You mean a soul bond?”

Chan barked out a laugh. “Is that what he called it? Fucking disgusting,” he spat. Every molecule in his body boiled with anger—for you, of course. How dare Changmin fool you into some romantic vision of such a treacherous, vile thing? “I don't expect you to understand right now, especially if he's gotten into your head, but I'm going to help you.”

“Help me? I don't need any help—”

“You’ll thank me later,” he interjected with a click of his tongue. He nodded his head toward you. “Now hold out your hand. I just need a little bit of blood, and we'll be done.”

You scrambled backward on your hands. “What? No.”

Annoyance twitched in his jaw, but his chest twisted with something heavier. You were so far gone… if he didn't act now, it would be too late. “I'll come in there myself if I have to,” he replied and rose to his feet.

Wild, unbridled fear flashed across your face as your head swiveled around. You were trapped between a knife and the circle bounds, prey meeting predator.

Chan stepped into the summoning circle, brimming with determination. The spell's incantation swam fresh in the forefront of his mind, locked and loaded upon his tongue for the proper moment. His thumb ran over the flat side of the blade and he stalked over the chalk markings. “I only need a little,” he reassured you.

“Don't do this,” you sputtered, “please! You don't have to break the bond.”

Your words only spurred him on. Chan lunged for your ankle, and you rolled out of the way, the crown of your head narrowly missing the edge of the circle. It was to your slight advantage that he had drawn the thing so fucking large, but it only gave the lion more room to play with his food.

Rich purple fractured across his irises and you could no longer dismiss it as just a trick of the light. Stupid. You had been so fucking stupid.

He pounced again. The breath flew out of your lungs as you hit the ground, your hand grasping his knife wrist where it was poised above your cheek. Your entire body shook as you held him back. “Stop,” you cried. “Why are you doing this? Chan, we're friends.”

“That's exactly why,” he grunted and used his body weight and gravity to inch the blade down further.

Pure adrenaline was all that kept your limbs from failing. Sweat collected between the grooves of your palms and fingers, your heart racing at two hundred beats a second. Every ounce of energy went toward survival. “I don't” —you heaved at his wrist to get it to move away— “understand.”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Tears had welled up in the linings, trickling down onto your face. Agony contorted his own, flushed, as he exerted every exhausted bone in his body. He'd used so much of his energy lately. “I can't have you end up like me,” he said through gritted teeth. “And if I can't save noona, I can still save you.”

He slammed the knife down.

Your head jerked out of the way, just as the tip of the blade crunched into the wood floor.

Before you could tumble out of the way, he snatched the front of your throat with his free hand and pinned you in place. Your hands whipped up to your neck, desperately clawing at his fingers and knuckles, your airways narrowing. Blood from his hand trickled down from your angry marks, a river of red flowing to stain your own skin.

“Please,” you choked out.

He didn't listen. You felt the bite of steel; blood, hot and thick, bubbled out of the cut and dripped down the side of your face onto the floor like a tear.

Chan kept his hand around your throat. His eyes, drowning in his own sorrow, never left your face. You once knew his eyes, but the purple that corrupted them struck you with fear. “Utimana catenia ab eterno effodiant sycut sol ad auroramae. Abi, daemon. Abi, daemon!”

You never thought you'd ever feel that same searing pain from the hospital ever again, but this was much worse. A guttural scream tore out of your throat with more wind than volume. Someone had dug their way into your body and was ripping their way out. They buried their fingernails and were shredding your muscle, cracking your bones apart, and they wouldn't stop until they saw the cold light of day.

The physical sensation—it was no clean slice. When a rope was pulled under strain, every fiber unwound until it snapped. You couldn't breathe. Every fiber of your being, physical and metaphysical, clung onto the soul on the other end of the line.

The rope splintered. Only then did you lay still.

Air once again flooded into your lungs, but your chest ached and ached and ached. Your throat burned from your crying. Your head hit the ground beneath you and you pawed at your sternum. The negative space was so damn loud. He wasn't there—he wasn't there—

“Yn?” A shaky voice, small and childlike. Chan's face appeared above in your line of sight with worry written stark over his face. “He's gone now.”

He's gone now. A cough boiled up in your throat, and you turned your head to hack up the residual blood. It was as if something truly had broken in your body. An entire piece of you was missing.

When you remained silent, Chan dragged himself up to his feet. “You’ll be grateful one day, you know? I'll clean this up and leave you be—”

You didn't have the heart or strength to lift your head, but you heard what happened next.

Chan's breath caught, followed by sounds of growling protest. There was a foreign voice or two over by the doorway. Take him to the Third Circle. We'll deal with him later.

The heart in your chest, its beats weak, stuttered into a pitiful skip as if it could sense the other half of it approaching. A face appeared in your view, his eyes wet and blood seeping from his nose. “Yn?” he rasped, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.

His blond hair hung in his eyes as you peered up at him. Your body relaxed in the presence of the one it yearned for most.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking, as he dipped his head to touch his forehead to yours. I'm so sorry I'm late, so sorry I let him hurt you. You could feel his body shake with silent cries. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“He said you were gone,” you managed to croak with your hoarse voice. Your nose and eyes stung with oncoming tears, and as soon as the dam broke, you could not reverse it.

“I'm right here,” he assured you. His arms wrapped around your body and pulled you up toward his chest.

“It hurts.” You pressed a hand to your chest where the gaping chasm now sat. You didn't know how deep your soul laid within, bruised and battered. “Are you okay?”

Changmin loosened a wet chuckle from his mouth, holding the side of your face tenderly. “I should be asking you that. I was so scared—Hell—” Loss was a unique feeling. It was strange because you were right here in his arms, but no amount of proximity soothed the visceral throbbing in his chest. He once was whole, one part loved and the other part loving. But what was done, was done: the goal you and Changmin originally had in mind was accomplished, but neither of you were sure that you wanted it anymore.

The two figures you didn't recognize approached the summoning circle. One was a boy who looked human enough, but with eyes that seemed too sharp. The other beside him was a woman with gray hair, styled to coiffed perfection as a bed for the pair of curled black horns jutting out from the crown of her head.

You struggled into an upright position and leaned back against Changmin. “And” —you cleared the congestion in your throat— “you are?”

“Kim Hongjoong,” said the former with a sad tilt to his smile. He gestured to the woman. “My colleague, Amari.”

“Prince of Hell and Magika Supreme,” Changmin muttered into your ear.

Your eyes went wide. “Should I bow?”

Hongjoong waved his hands in front of him. “No need. Are you feeling alright though? Soul bonds are… they aren't the easiest things to live without once you've had one.”

“You know what it feels like?”

“Definitely not,” he said sheepishly. “But I can guess. Changmin collapsed when he felt his end was devastated. I, uhm, imagine that your experience was similar.” The prince lowered himself into a crouch to be eye level with the two of you. “Your friend—the one who did this to you.”

Your throat squeezed tight with the phantom of his hand around it. “Chan?” you stammered. “What's happened to him?”

“We've taken him into custody,” the Magika Supreme replied with a low voice and perfect posture. “Did you know that he had a copy of the Book of the Diabolical?”

There was that title again. You shook your head, but pointed in the direction of your desk. “That thing? I didn't know what it was until now. He—he had it when I was at the hospital with him yesterday.”

“Do you know how long he's had it in his possession?”

You were about to answer, when Changmin cut in. “With all due respect,” he swallowed, “Yn deserves her rest, not an interrogation.”

Hongjoong exchanged glances with Amari, then nodded and rose to his feet. “Fair enough. We'll help you clean up and be on our way—”

“Wait.” You didn't expect them to listen to you. “I need to know what happened. I don't—I still don't understand.” When had everything gone wrong for your friend? In your mind's eye, you could picture the canyon that spanned yours and Chan's relationship, the tattered bridge hanging listlessly over the gorge. You could not banish his words from your head: I can't let you end up like me. And if I can't save noona, I can still save you.

Hongjoong pressed his lips together. “Your friend has been using that book of curses for a very long time to steal energy and transfer it to his sister. Recently, your Changmin and many others fell victim to one of them.”

Your hand fell over where Changmin's rested across your middle. Could he feel the guilt sloshing in the pit of your stomach like turbulent waves?

“We believe he targeted demons specifically because of a deal he made with a demon in his past.” A shadow fell over the prince's face, and you read the grave sadness embedded there. “He must have held a grudge against our kind since that rotten deal.”

It made sense. As much as it caused bile to creep up your throat, the pieces were slipping into place. The pure, venomous loathing he directed toward Changmin and the soul bond—if he had experienced a demonic bargain before, he would not only be aware of the existence of the supernatural, but the nature of such soul-binding deals.

Chan had done it for Chaeyoung—that conclusion wrung you through the deepest pits of Hell and destroyed you. He'd done it to save her life, but it hadn't been enough.

“What's going to happen to her?” The bloody tissues and crude scratches of her coughing crushed into your mind. “She didn't ask for any of this.” They said she's getting worse.

The Magika Supreme was the one who answered. “The energy Lee Chan stole and imbued her with was corrupted, which is unfortunately why Miss Lee's condition is worsening.”

An idea manifested in your head and you shifted to sit up out of Changmin's hold. “Then can you—”

“Yn,” Changmin lamented, predicting where your mind had wandered.

“—save her? Could you save her? Is there any way?” Someone titled with Magika Supreme must have the power or authority to achieve something like this. Chan's love for his sister fundamentally fueled all of his actions. Every malicious deed he pulled, every incantation he uttered, had been with the intent to save Chaeyoung from a fate she could not control. You wished his desperation hadn't shoved him over the edge; you wished he never had reason to get to such a point.

Amari paused, but not because she was uncertain of the possibility. She passed a glance to her prince, then to Changmin, before returning to you. “Of course, there is always a way, but it would require something in return.”

“Name it.”

Changmin grappled onto your arm. “Yn, you're walking into another soul bond. Please, just think about this first,” he implored, forcing you to look him in his wide eyes, dark and entreating.

It was reckless, you knew, but Chaeyoung was dying. Her brother tried all his life to lead her from a fate she couldn't control, but it only doomed her more. Were you simply continuing the cycle or could you do something good for her?

“The difference between your friend's magic—” you and Changmin's attention flitted over to Hongjoong, “—and the Magika Supreme's is that the latter won't be using corrupt magic to steal corrupted energy.” Hongjoong's smile was something warm and reassuring. What an effortless prince he made. “Whatever healing magic she'll use will work without crippling Chaeyoung's health more. Though, I can't promise about side effects; nature is a difficult divinity to fight against.”

Right. You blindly curled your fingers with Changmin's and the touch eased the throbbing in your chest. “What would you ask for in return?”

“You would be called to testify against Chan in our court,” Hongjoong stated, but not unkindly. “Take your time to think about it. I'm sure Changmin has my number.”

In the blink of an eye, Hongjoong and Amari were before you one second, then gone without a trace. A light gust of wind brushed past your face as the only evidence of magic being used. Beneath you, your floors were rid of the summoning circle and candles; and the Book of the Diabolical had disappeared from your table.

You and Changmin took your time returning your room to its former state. Your roommates outside in the main living space had all woken up from their forced slumber, their minds blank of the events leading up to Chan's ambush.

The emptiness in your chest left none to be desired. You sat in bed with your head against Changmin's shoulder, his hand playing with yours while your other rubbed your chest absentmindedly. No matter how much pressure you put, the chasm remained. Staying close to Changmin though remained second nature.

“What're you thinking about?” he murmured into your hair.

You tilted your nose up to graze his pulse. “How I'm going to tell Chaeyoung about this. She deserves to know what happened to Chan, at least.”

Changmin gave a slow nod. “I agree.”

Your eyes flickered up to his. “You're okay with me telling her? I can leave you out of it.”

“No, that's okay. She doesn't really know me,” he chuckled, that dimple impressing into his cheek. His smile widened as you leaned over and pressed your lips to it. “Are you feeling alright though? After everything?”

There wasn't much you could express with your words at the moment. How did one describe the loss of a friend? And how did one string together the words to tell someone that they loved them, that they were both the remedy and reason for the pounding of your heart? You did not know either for the time being. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

“What? The hole in your soul?” He pressed his palm flat against the center of his chest to feel the distant beat of his heart, slow, solid, and steady.

“That, and not being able to possess you.”

Changmin squawked in indignation. “And you say I'm the creep?”

“You literally still are!”

Both yours and Changmin's laughter lit up the dark, one spurring on the other. Though, if the shadows truly claimed him, then he was the night to your day; the other half for your whole; the one. Even if this entanglement began as an accident, all of the love you held for him was fully intentional. You would keep it safe in your chest, where he would always belong.

[the cast of incantations will return... maybe?]

a/n: IMPORTANT!!! i would like to write a follow-up/sequel to not only continue the plotline, but to also get a chance to better explore minor character dynamics, subplots with loose ends, and the literal fallout of these events because leaving it here is VERY unsatisfying. it would fulfill my creative needs esp since this was written under an extreme time constraint, but i also won't feel inclined to unless u reblog TT so pls. reblog and lmk what u thought ! thank u so much for reading :')

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