#because of how i was and that's shit i just don't get to redo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sungbeam · 23 days ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — part one

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. 16.3k out of 34.8k / read part two here

▷ inspired by. incantations (composed by richard meyer) it's not like,,, the fic's "soundtrack" or anything. i just think it sounds cool lol

this is my submission for deoboyznet's boyz who bite event! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

a/n: i'm telling u that i resisted the idea of another demon changmin au for ONE WHOLE MONTH. i went through THREE OTHER IDEAS BEFORE FALLING BACK ON THIS DRAFT. I SWEAR. so pls reblog + comment + enjoy! :') and thank u to @justalildumpling as usual for reading this for me 😭💖

PART I: THE CATALYST

THERE WERE WORSE WAYS TO GO OUT, you supposed. However, the paranormal wasn't often a subject you frequented, so sitting atop an ashy-white pentagram wasn't exactly how you expected to be spending a Friday night.

“Changmin, you're always hooting about this shit,” Juyeon said as he peered over his shoulder at the boy lurking in the far corner of the living room. “Are you seriously all bark and no bite?”

No one really paid attention to Changmin's response besides you and Juyeon (kind of—he was busy lighting the candles). Technically, it was a new behavior; Changmin was usually the one obsessed with horror movies and the paranormal, constantly getting you all to participate in Halloween horror nights and haunted houses, and bringing his beloved (cursed) Chucky doll to any and every group movie night. But now that you were finally acting on his demonic big talk, all of that stuff and nonsense dissipated like the snuffing out of a candle.

A shadow fell across his face. “I already warned you guys. This isn't something you should be toying around with.”

“It's a Ouija board—what could go wrong?” Shuhua wrinkled her nose as she began tapping out a circle of salt around your body and the pentagram on the floor. “I saw them on sale at Toys R Us for half off.”

Because you were the last one to arrive tonight, you were chosen as the sacrifice. It wasn't really fair because this was literally Juyeon and Changmin's apartment, but it didn't matter much in the end. You didn't believe in this stuff and it wasn't your salt being wasted. (You were also exempt from venmoing Hyunjae a portion of the paycheck he spent buying candles and chalk. Save fifteen bucks and sit on a pentagram in a salt circle? Why the fuck not.)

“Don't we need to draw blood or something?” you asked, half joking.

“No.” Changmin's expression somehow grew even darker. Your eyes widened slightly; you'd never seen him so serious. “Absolutely not. Do you want this to turn out worse?”

“Changmin, dude, you gotta chill, man.” Hyunjae dumped the Ouija board he'd dug out of his parents’ attic onto the floor next to you, just outside the salt circle.

Shuahua squawked. “Oy! You're ruining my perfect circle!”

“Just redo it, dumbass!”

“You redo it, asshat,” she growled back, tapping out some salt to finish it.

Juyeon, as if to placate your friend, said to Changmin, “The salt will protect her.”

You blinked. “Oh, that's what it's for?” You could've sworn that was what the candles were for, but again, you didn't believe in this, so why would you know a thing about it?

Changmin's face hit the palms of his hands with a resounding slap. “Absolutely not. You can't have Yn in the circle if she doesn't even know what the Hell is going on.”

“So do you wanna be in the circle?”

His left eye seemed to twitch as he cocked his head to the side. Something about that movement made a shiver crawl down your spine. The sensation was akin to watching a predator consider its prey from the brush… but that wasn't right. Changmin was all dimpled smiles and goofy shenanigans and twinning with his horror doll child. There wasn't anything remotely scary about him, unless you made him mad (you hadn't yet). So why were your inner alarms screaming for you to run? “That's actually not a bad idea—”

“Okay!” Hyunjae called his hands together. “Let's get started, shall we?”

The thoughts were brushed beneath the dusty rug in your head. You shrugged at Changmin. “Too late, I guess.”

You thought you heard him mutter out something under his breath in frustration, but you didn't understand the language.

All of your other friends began to gather on the side of the circle where the Ouija board was. You weren't even sure what all the pomp and circumstance was for, but Changmin didn't seem up to correct anything. He continued to sulk in the corner with his arms folded over his chest, eyes shaded by the brim of his cap as he stared onward.

Hyunjae's eyes fluttered closed as he, Juyeon, and Shuhua placed their fingers upon the planchette. “To the spirits who may be here in this room with us—”

“And demons,” Shuhua murmured.

A choked sound came from Changmin's side of the room.

Your eyes flickered open and saw him rub a hand down his face as if he was stressed.

“We are opening the veil between your world and ours,” Hyunjae continued. “My name is Hyunjae, and with me are Shuhua, Yn, Juyeon, and Changmin.”

Shuhua inhaled shallowly. “Is there someone here with us?”

The apartment was consumed in a dead silence as the five of you waited. You sat cross-legged in your ring of salt, cheek resting against your fist. Your eyes were drifting to half-mast—it’d been a long day for you, and considering it was approaching midnight already, it was about time you went to bed.

“We brought you a sacrifice,” Hyunjae said. “We were wondering if you could tell us your name.”

A chilling breeze brushed past your cheeks and you glanced up, expecting the air conditioning to have caused it. There was no vent above you, however. Strange.

You wrung your hands in your lap. “You could possess me if you'd like.”

Your eyes joined your friends’ as you all pinned your gazes to the Ouija board. The planchette remained still.

After a beat, your patience ran thin, and you sat up to lean back on your hands—wasn't something supposed to happen?

The amber glow from the candles in the living room wavered violently. In your surprise, your fingers grated against the salt and hardwood as you nearly fell backward. You yanked your hand back to you at the sting.

The bodies in the room went taut, speechless.

A gust of wind—something impossible in this enclosed space—whipped past you in a wide circle. The salt circle was no more, the candle flames were snuffed.

You sat stiff as a board. For a moment, you could swear you felt some invisible, foreign weight rest upon your chest. It sank deep into you, a phantom hand reaching into your body as if to latch onto your very soul.

Ba bump ba bump ba bump, your heart drummed wildly in your chest.

Howls and gasps of delight were drowned out by the blood in your ears; they were sounds of awe from your friends. You placed your hand over your sternum in the dark to feel for that unseen force, but there was nothing.

The room flooded with warm light. It chased away the shadows to the furthest corners.

You glanced up and saw Juyeon at the light switch with a boyish grin stretched across his lips. “That was crazy! Yn, how do you feel?”

Eyes darted to you.

The pentagram beneath you was smudged, the white chalk staining your pants and your hands. You managed a smile, and then a slow nod. What you felt earlier was probably nothing.

“I'm good,” you chirped. You glanced over at Changmin in the corner, his eyes still shaded by the brim of his cap, but with the muscle in his jaw clenched. Why? Why did you look at him? You couldn't fathom why survival instinct had you encoded to turn toward that which was capable of your demise. “Yeah, I'm good.”

A yawn tore through you as you stepped into your darkened apartment. Your hand fumbled for the light switch and you tucked your shoes away on the rack, before depositing your keys onto the table with a noisy clatter. The remainder of your time spent at Juyeon and Changmin's had been spent cleaning up the failed ritual, and you hit the road as soon as it was over.

Your roommates were all out for the night, so the apartment was cold and quiet as you stumbled down the hall to your bedroom. Compared to your friends, you'd left rather quickly because of a text you'd received from Lee Chan, a good friend of yours and former neighbor from childhood. His home life hadn't been the most spectacular, so you and he became fast friends during the moments after school when you hung out on your front lawn.

He'd swung by your apartment earlier to drop off banana muffins, but you hadn't been home. I'm home now! But you can totally come by in the morning instead, you texted him after setting your backpack down and peeling off your jacket.

As you sat in the dim gold illuminating from your desk lamp, the pressure in your chest returned. You could feel your heart pick up speed in your ribcage and you lifted your finger up to your mouth to suck on the dollop of blood that had welled to the surface. It was a small scratch from when the candles went out—your own clumsiness—but it was nothing a My Little Pony bandaid couldn't fix.

A featherweight sensation drifted over your arm, and you slapped your palm over it as if to catch whatever invisible insect crawled atop your skin.

There was nothing though.

You glanced over at the window to your right. The sky outside was an unpeculiar ebony riddled with the white speckles of distant stars. No breeze drifted in from outdoors and you double-checked that the window was closed.

You startled as your phone vibrated on top of your desk.

dino!!: oh it's okay! i have dance practice early in the morning, so i'd rather bother you while ur still awake haha dino!!: i'll be by in about 10ish min if that's cool? your phone: sounds good lol and tysm :’)) love mingyu's banana muffins

You smiled to yourself at the thought of those delicious pastries. Chan's friend Mingyu baked whenever he was stressed, and he usually gave out the results of his stress-bakes to friends. The first time you'd tasted his banana chip muffins was the closest you would ever get to heaven on Earth.

“I'm glad he makes you smile at least.”

Your phone clattered to the floor, your physical body leaping five feet in the air as your soul flew out of its encasing. Everything in you jolted like one, big heart palpitation, and your wide eyes took in the sight of a person standing by your window.

Ji fucking Changmin had nary an apology on his lips for scaring the everloving Hell out of you. It was as if he hadn't even moved out of his position at his apartment: the crossed arms, the tense posture, the clenched jaw.

Except, his eyebrow was cocked this time, unamused by your very valid fear.

“Oh, fuck you.” You braced your palms against your bed as you stood opposite from him. “Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.”

“I got it the first time.”

You could have blown steam out of your ears. “What the fuck are you doing in my room, you creep?”

He raised his palms up, finally breaking pose. “I know what this looks like—”

“You know what this looks like?” You let out a scoff, throwing your arm out in wild gesticulation to match the throttle of your heartbeat. “This looks like Edward Cullen in Twilight, except this isn't a movie, you're not Robert Parkinson, and you just climbed up a five story building!”

Changmin stepped forward, and you took a very obvious step back. He exhaled, pressing his lips together. “Okay, I deserve that,” he muttered.

“No shit. I should call the cops on you, friend or not. What is the matter with you?” You had known Changmin for as long as your college career thus far. The five of you had met in the freshman dorms and stuck together like a package deal since. You were all quite close, and you'd spent more than your fair share of quality time with Changmin.

But this—nothing could warrant this behavior.

“I need to talk to you about something important.”

You enclosed your palms around your arms, defensive. “Then you call or text or use the front door. My window was locked—”

“The lock on your window should be the least of your concerns,” he huffed. There was a firmness in his voice and behind his words, and a matching gleam of desperation in his face. He pressed his fingers against your bedspread and the air seemed to still.

That phantom breeze had returned and it drifted against your arm. It came accompanied by the weight in your chest. “What,” you stammered, “do you mean?”

He glanced away then, that tension seizing his shoulders again. He scratched his jaw seemingly at odds with words. “The ritual that happened tonight… that was real.”

You paused. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“I'm not.”

“Changmin, I'm way too exhausted to deal with your pranks right now. If tonight was all an elaborate thing you guys did to get back at me for waking you up at 4AM—”

“Yn.” The tone of his voice made you stop. It made you think. You considered the graveness of his expression differently; you had never seen him so serious. It was jarring. “I am being incredibly serious. The thing that happened to you tonight? That was a summoning ritual, and you were actually put into contact with Hell.”

You remained quiet, unknowing of how to answer. All logic in your brain was countering his statements profusely—it wasn't possible. There was no way something as little as chalk, salt, and candles could open up a portal to Hell.

At your lack of response, Changmin continued, “Tonight, a line to Hell was opened. The ritual was meant to contact a demonic entity. Usually, ritualists use it to make deals and bargains with whoever answers the call. The human link—the 'sacrifice’” —he looked at you pointedly— “is one half of the signing party responsible for fulfilling whatever the bargain is.”

A shudder rattled down your spine at what he revealed to you. This had to be a joke, you thought. This could not be real. But every time you looked at Changmin, the expression on his face did not change and his voice did not waver.

You swallowed, hard. “So,” you said finally, your voice barely a whisper, “you're saying…”

A lone nod. “You made contact with a demon tonight.” He paused for a beat, something warring behind his eyes. “You made contact with me.”

What. You sputtered out a laugh.

Changmin released a small, but sharp exhale, patiently waiting for you to let your giggles out. There were undoubtedly better ways to reveal it, but any way would still evoke such a reaction from you.

“Okay, now I know you're fucking with me,” you said with the lingering curl of a smile on your face. “You're saying that you're a demon?”

He seemed to weigh an idea in his head for a millisecond before caving. He flicked his chin out toward you. “You cut yourself tonight?”

You flinched and instinctively curled your right hand, your other fingers running over the small slice in your index finger. “What?”

“Come on. Let me see.” At your balking, he lifted up his hand. “I bet you I have a matching mark.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What hand and where?”

“Right hand. Index.”

“This doesn't count because that's the most predictable hand and finger.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yn, don't be silly. I literally have the same mark.”

Slowly, he stepped his way around the bed to your side, stopping only close enough where you could inspect his hand from a distance. Lo and behold, the flesh of his index finger was neatly sliced open, slightly diagonal in the top right quadrant of the finger—exactly where yours was.

The breeze returned like a cool breath, gentle against your cheek, as you raised your eyes to meet his again. The horror in your gaze must have confirmed that he'd convinced you of who—no—what he was.

“So what does this mean exactly?” you asked him. There were no giggles this time.

Changmin sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “We are now bound via soul,” he said and extended his hand out slightly. His fingers curled inward and he gave a tugging motion level with your chest, and something deep within you moved.

Your eyes went as wide as a full moon. “What the Hell…”

“That's the line we're connected by.”

“I'm on a leash?”

Changmin glanced toward the ceiling as if mentally counting to three, then took a breath. “Not a leash; it's just a line. That's what was created between us when I became the demon on the other end and you spilled your blood on the pentagram. It doesn't mean we're restrained to stay within physical proximity of one another, but it does mean that you can't run away and hide from me.”

You shuddered. “That sounds scary.”

“It would be if you didn't fulfill your end of a bargain, but you never made a bargain.” He lifted his baseball cap up to card a hand through his blond hair before replacing the hat on his head. “Which basically means that we're stuck like this. We are emotionally and metaphysically bound to one another.”

There were a lot of words that had been said over the past few minutes, and most of them were difficult to wrap your head around. The worst truth of all was the brief, but very real sensation you had felt when Changmin had tugged on the invisible link between the two of you. That weight on your chest from earlier… had that been the “bond” settling into place?

“How could sitting on a chalk pentagram even” —you waved your hands around as you attempted to formulate words— “how was all of that possible? I thought Ouija boards were fucking toys?”

“I told you guys that you shouldn't play around with those things.”

“Well, how the Hell were we supposed to know this was going to happen?” you countered. The four of you had done some innocent fooling around, and now, you were “emotionally and metaphysically bound” to Changmin. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Changmin sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “We can undo it. I think.”

You think? “How?”

“I—I need to do some research,” he said with a grimace. “I've never heard about instances like this and I didn't think it was even possible. I thought I could just intercept the call—”

Intercept the call? You shook your head. “I need you to start from the beginning, but slowly, as if you're speaking to a five year old.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then stopped abruptly.

A change in expression flickered across his face. It was brief, almost instinctual. You swore it looked like mild irritation, but it was gone before you could be sure. “You should probably answer the door.”

“Answer the what?”

You nearly yelped at the sound of loud knocking at the apartment door. Confusion pummeled you first, then you were swearing. “Chan.” You forgot he was stopping by.

“I'll be right back,” you said, moving toward the bedroom door.

“It’s fine. I need to go looking for answers.” Changmin stopped you before you went out, and you couldn't suppress the violent shudder when the invisible line in your chest pulled taut. “And Yn? Don't do anything stupid.”

You made a face at him from over your shoulder. “I'm already soul-bound to you by accident. How much more stupid can this get?”

He threw his hand up in the air. “Just don't do anything Hyunjae or Shuhua would do. Actually, just don't tell any of them about what I just told you.”

Why not? You were about to ask when you heard Chan's voice at the door calling out to you. Another swear fell from your mouth and you rushed out into the hallway to rip the door off its hinges.

Chan startled as it opened, his eyes going wide like a deer's in the bright hallway lights. There was a loose blue hoodie hanging over his green dinosaur pajama pants. He had his phone in his hands along with a paper bag undoubtedly carrying the legendary banana muffins. “Oh, hi. Sorry, is someone here with you? I thought I heard another voice.”

You braced a hand around the doorframe. Don't tell anyone. “Ah,” you winced, the lie curling up your tongue, “I was just on a call with a friend and he wouldn't shut up. Sorry about the wait.”

“No, it's no worries,” he insisted with a classic, easygoing smile. It made the adrenaline in your veins calm somewhat. Chan had always been a good presence to be around. There was something perpetually warm about his persona that made you want to stay in his orbit. “Oh, right!” He handed you the bag. “These are all yours. Mingyu says to let him know how they taste this time around, as always.”

As you accepted the bag, your face lit up like a Hollywood billboard. “I can guarantee that they will taste as divine as always. Tell him thanks for me” —you glanced up sheepishly from the paper bag— “and also, thanks for stopping by. I wish I was home earlier so you didn't have to drive all the way back.”

You didn't realize your face had contorted into a grimace. If only you had come straight home instead of indulging your friends’ curiosity tonight. Then, you would have been here with the banana muffins and one less soul-bond to worry about; and you would have been none the wiser to the fact that one of your college friends was a demonic entity.

Hadn't Changmin mentioned that you were now emotionally and metaphysically bound? Did that mean he could feel your emotions?

The smile had long since slipped from your face, but now your hands grew cold. When you got your muffins just now, did he know—

“Yn?” You perked up at the sound of your name. Chan's hand froze midair, then retracted back to his pocket. Concern shone on his face as stark as day. “Are you okay? You look like you just forgot you have something due tonight,” he chuckled half-heartedly, but the sheen in his eyes told a different story.

“Oh.” You forced out a laugh. “I'm fine! Yeah, I was just reminded of something. Actually—uhm, I shouldn't hold you up for any longer. It's getting late.”

Chan stared at you for a moment longer, and for that seemingly infinitesimal second, you feared he could see the invisible knot tied to your ribcage. “Right,” he said suddenly while shaking his head. “You should get some sleep.”

Your hand reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for dropping by again.”

“Wait” —his palm pressed against the door to keep you from closing it— “are you sure you're okay?”

It was as if your guilt was written in plain words across your forehead: No! I just became magically handcuffed to one of my demonic friends! And I also sat in a pentagram salt circle less than two hours ago! Please help me!

You channeled all your energy into a convincing smile. “Yes, I promise I'm okay. Have a good night, Chan.”

It was enough. That easygoing beam graced your eyes once more and he took his hand back. “Okay,” he said, “good night.” He waved to you as he turned on the ball of his foot, and you waited until he turned the corner before closing the door.

Your entire body deflated as you let out a rather dramatic sigh. That sigh turned into a loud groan, which eventually escalated into a borderline scream.

Like a woman possessed (would possession have been a better outcome than this?), you slunk back into your bedroom with your treasures in your grasp. “Hey,” you muttered as you kicked the door closed, “I'm… back.”

The room was vacant. Not a trace of the blond demon could be found.

“Son of a gun.” You settled into your desk chair and pulled out one of Mingyu's stress-baked muffins. As you peeled the parchment wrapper from the muffin's bottom half, you attempted to process all that had occurred within the past two hours. Every time you rewound the events, you met the same dozen or so questions. If only Changmin were still here to answer them, but he mentioned something about going off to answer questions of his own, including ones pertaining to undoing this rather inconvenient situation you’d found yourselves in.

“He should have stopped us,” you garbled between bites of banana chip muffin.

Your chewing came to a gradual halt as you marinated on that thought. “He… should have stopped us.” Why didn't he stop the four of you? If he had stopped you and suggested a movie instead, or any other activity for that matter, you wouldn't be here and he wouldn't be stressed.

He should have stopped you since he knew what you were getting yourselves into.

You crumpled the now empty muffin wrapper in your fist. Ji Changmin had far too much to explain to you.

PART II: THE CONSEQUENCES

IF THERE WAS NO REST FOR THE WICKED, Changmin didn't want to be wicked anymore. By popular perception, he and half his heritage were “evil.” While his father was a human from this mortal plane, his mother hailed from one of the nine circles of Hell. They'd fallen in love, conceived a halfling child, and the remainder was history.

“You look like shit, Ji.”

Changmin's eye twitched as irritation needled beneath the surface of his skin. “Thanks,” he drawled, not bothering to spare Lee Chan a glance. If he had limited energy reserves, he wasn't about to spend a drop on giving Chan the time of day.

Plus, Changmin was more than aware of the thick shadows that lingered beneath his eyes like fog clinging to cobblestone. He had woken up from his ninety minute power nap, trudged into the bathroom, and faced his own gauntness in the mirror. Why the fuck did Lee Chan think it necessary to point it out?

Chan's stare lingered on him through the practice room's mirror for a moment longer until he was called away by Kwon Soonyoung. Only then, when Chan's attention was passed elsewhere, could Changmin release the breath he was holding onto.

It was one thing that Changmin couldn't shake the offputting energy he felt whenever he was near Chan; he could stomach being on the same dance team as the guy, even though they each harbored an unspoken dislike for one another; but it was another thing entirely that he and Chan were both friends with you. The two boys attempted to be civil in front of you because your comfort was more important than their pettiness, but currently, said truce was nowhere in sight just as you were.

Simply, there were less reasons for him to be amiable today, including his thinning patience. Last night’s debacle had drained him of his energy. He was a halfling, not a pure-blooded demon. Additionally, his mother wasn’t a high-ranking demon by any means, which basically screwed him in the area of power stores. He had magical capabilities, but it could only handle so much. Answering ritual calls and creating soul bonds required a decent amount of power, which was why they were usually only answered by the more powerful demonheads of Hell. They enjoyed making human suffering a pastime.

Tacking onto that Changmin’s brilliant idea of warping into and out of your room last night instead of using his own two feet, as well as spending hours digging through the occultish corners of the internet, added all together to make for one exhausted, stressed, and grumpy halfling.

A presence—this one being far more welcome than the previous one—appeared by Changmin’s side in the mirror. “You really need to start going to bed when you say you're going to bed,” Juyeon said as plopped down onto the laminated hardwood to stretch out his calf muscles.

Changmin followed his lead onto the floor, but opted to slide into a left split. “I was tossing and turning the whole night,” he dismissed with an innocent lie. (Well, “innocent” was subjective.)

“You should try this new matcha that Hyunjae got from his hyung. He brought it back from his recent trip from Japan.”

For a second, Changmin let the words feed into his head one by one: matcha… from Hyunjae… from Hyunjae's brother… which one was he? Oh, the one who just got back from Japan, Sangyeon. When his tired brain finally caught up, he gave a nod. “What about it?” he asked, raising himself up to switch his hips into the right split.

Juyeon looked on with envious admiration, even if this was the thousandth time he stretched with Changmin. “It’s really refreshing and has a bit of a caffeine kick, but it's not as awful as coffee. Indigo likes it, too—said something about it being one of those rare finds that you can only get in the secluded countryside or something.”

Changmin paused. Juyeon's girlfriend Indigo was someone Changmin got along with well, but that wasn't why he was slightly interested in the matcha now. What Juyeon wasn't aware of was Indigo's witch heritage. Just as Changmin was hiding in plain sight, so too was Indigo. And if she recommended some countryside matcha powder, he was going to be inclined to try some.

“Yeah,” he coughed, “sure. Sounds like it wouldn't hurt to try.”

Pleased with the outcome of the conversation, Juyeon smiled and nodded. “I'll get you some later today then. Hopefully it'll help with the weird headaches you've been having, too.”

Changmin had nearly forgotten about those with everything that had happened. He'd recently been struck by random headaches; there were no patterns to their appearance, and no remedy—human, at least—that could soothe them until they faded on their own. He'd failed to ask Indigo about it because, well, he didn't think it was important enough to act on. But if this tea could help him out, then it would be taking out two birds with one stone.

Practice went on swimmingly. Though Changmin could only boast about his ninety minutes of sleep, when it came to dance, it was as if he was possessed. This was a hobby—a passion—that never failed to drive a fire through his veins. It didn't matter if he'd had the worst week in the history of worst weeks; when the music started, he was cued in, and he gave it his all.

As a river of sweat poured down his face and the room suffocated with the humidity of everybody's labored breathing, practice came to an end. Changmin hiked his duffle bag over his shoulder and poured water down his throat. Juyeon wasn't far behind as the two of them waved goodbye to their teammates and headed out.

Saturday mornings usually occurred in similar fashions: dance practice was held from 7AM to 10AM, then Changmin and Juyeon would return to their apartment to wash up; Changmin would then eat about an elephant's worth of food while he caught up on lecture recordings—unless he had something else to distract him.

In the case of this Saturday, as soon as Changmin had finished showering, he plummeted face-first into his pillows and was out like a light.

Demons could dream, one must understand. However, the demonic body tended only to dream when it was well spent—exhausted. Demons liked to correlate a weakness with having dreams, because foolish visions meant that one was unable to control their own mind. Control was rather important when dealing with magic.

Even if the dream was about, say, something real and occurring right at the moment Changmin was asleep—it was still considered a dream. Because he had not yet learned to leash his mind from meandering down his fresh soul bond, he found himself in a body that was not his own.

Yours. It was your body.

Was this real, he wondered, as he soaked in the familiar sight of your bed, the desk, and the closet space. He'd been in here just last night—albeit, in a fashion that wasn't agreeable—and he didn't expect it to change, but it did look real.

It was like he was actually sitting in your room, except he wasn't able to move or control his own body. The heart that beat in his chest was yours, the blood that pumped in his ears was yours, and the breath that fell from his mouth was yours.

He inwardly sighed as you adjusted your position at your desk chair. What a predicament he found himself in. He could feel the ache in your back from the uncomfortable piece of furniture beneath you, as well as the knots in your shoulders. (Did that mean you had a bad night of sleep?)

Though, it wasn't all bad, he supposed. He did adore the smell of your perfume lingering in the air and clinging to the sheets, the walls, the furniture… You would never know this of course, if he could help it.

You were currently reading a book—for class or for enjoyment, he hadn't the foggiest. The left side of the novel you clutched in your hand was riddled with colored sticky tabs, and you had the back of a ballpoint pen pressed between your lips. (His lips? …No, this was a precarious line of thinking.)

Changmin followed along as you read. Well, he tried. Whoever designed the layout of this book must have had perfect vision and no sympathy for someone visually challenged. The font size was likely less than ten point, and good grief, the line spacing—

“Holy shit.”

He paused. Right, that was you and not him.

You leaned forward and brought the book closer to your face as you read over the line again.

“Oh my gosh, Eliot, you incredible, talented woman.” This earnest compliment was swiftly followed by a colored tab to mark the passage. Changmin was about to read what you tabbed, but your eyes went down to the desk to scrawl a thought onto a post-it note. “Dorothea, you poor, poor soul. Casaubon needs to get the fuck over himself—you are fifty, dude.”

Changmin, frankly, had no clue what was happening. But he didn't entirely mind, because the pure joy that fluttered in your (his) chest was enough to keep him satisfied. There was something oddly serene about being in your sphere of presence, and in this state of being, that kept him at ease.

The stress of breaking this soul bond ebbed away like the receding edge of a tide.

Alas, all good things had to come to an end. Changmin couldn't tell how much time passed before you bookmarked your place with an index card and pulled your phone toward you.

12:04PM was what your lockscreen read.

Oh, so he was definitely catching up on sleep, at least.

Wait—had you not eaten lunch yet? The unmistakable void in the pit of your stomach…

Yn! Eat lunch, you silly girl! Eat—

“He could just be away from his phone,” you muttered to yourself. There were a few app notifications waiting for you, but each dismissal was fueled with mild disappointment.

Who were you talking about, he wondered.

A flash of bitter annoyance pierced his chest at the memory of who you'd been texting last night with that big smile on your face. However, any of that sentiment was dashed clean away when you pulled up your text chain with him, not Lee Chan.

Changmin's heart sped to a gallop as he watched you swipe out just as quickly as you'd checked in. The reason was two-pronged: one, you were wondering about him; and two, you had texted him while he was currently asleep and he did not know how to wake himself up.

Ji Changmin, he chastised himself, you're not only intruding, you're also inadvertently ignoring her.

He could understand that he put you (and abandoned you) in a worrisome place last night. If he could tear out the strands of his fried, blond hair he would.

You were his friend, were you not? He cared about you, and this soul bond wasn't only stressful to him, but to you as well. Maybe ignorance really would have been bliss in this case.

Your phone emitted a low vibration as it rang. Changmin had missed the moment you decided to call someone. Juyeon's contact name and photo was displayed in the middle of the screen, and he answered before the call went to voicemail. “Yn, what's up? You're—you’re not mad about last night, are you?” The wince in Juyeon’s voice was audible.

“No, I'm not mad,” you promised him as you leaned your cheek against your palm. “I was just wondering if you know where Changmin is. I texted him an hour ago and he hasn't answered yet—I guess I'm just a little antsy.”

Shuffling, then, “Oh! Changminnie's sleeping. He didn't sleep well last night, so as soon as we came home from practice, he was knocked out.”

Relief made your shoulders sag. “Ah, okay.” A smile, self-deprecating in nature, curled up on your mouth. “No worries then. Thanks, Juyo.”

“No problem. I'll let him know to call you once he wakes up.”

“No, it's okay” —you began putting your materials away— “have you had lunch yet? I can swing by with food; I haven't eaten yet.”

“Really? I haven't eaten yet, and Changmin hasn't either. I'll split the cost with you.” Changmin wished he could say that he would also split the cost. Why were you coming over? He hadn't gotten a good look at the texts you sent before.

(It had to be because you wanted to see him, right? To talk—of course to talk and not for any other reason.)

You stood up from your chair and stretched out the stiff muscles in your back. “I'll be by in—maybe twenty or thirty minutes?”

“Sounds great!” Juyeon chirped. “Thanks Yn-ie. See you in a bit.”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, see you.”

As the call cut off, Changmin was left with a daunting task: to wake himself up. There didn't seem to be many options as to do this. If demonic dreaming was activated based on lack of control, that meant he had a lack of energy. Thus, if he couldn't yet regain control, it could only mean that he was still tired.

There were a great many things that he had yet to figure out about this kind of magic. It wasn't like his mother ever anticipated he would need to know about it, so she never explicitly taught it and he never asked.

He was kicking himself in the head now.

Meanwhile, you had busied yourself with getting ready to leave. You'd selected a jacket from your closet, swiped on a thin layer of lip gloss, and spritzed yourself with that divine-smelling perfume. It made his toes curl and his chest feel fuzzy.

Just as you were filling your purse, your phone jolted with an incoming call.

Changmin soured as he saw the caller ID through your eyes and felt, not disdain, but pleasant surprise. He couldn't fathom what you saw in Lee Chan, but he never said anything; you and Chan knew each other longer, after all. It wasn't his place to say anything, especially when his reason revolved around something as subjective as a “vibe.”

“Hi Chan,” you greeted when you accepted the call.

It was funny—a dull, but annoyingly familiar pulsing appeared in Changmin's head. It beat steady against his cranium, hard and relentless. The longer it continued, the more it hurt. Could you feel it, too? The sensation was recognizable at this point after so many instances of the random headaches popping up. Was he seriously getting another stupid headache during a dream?

He winced to himself, but suddenly felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach when he heard you audibly grimace.

Was this headache yours or his? Should he be worried?

“What was that? Are you okay?” asked Chan from the other side.

Changmin/You clenched your jaw as your vision went spotty for a moment. Your hand whipped out to catch yourself against the table.

Panic seized his chest as you muttered out a reassurance, though unconvincing. The invisible string that tied Changmin to you tightened, stealing the breath right out of his lungs. It was as if his own physical body was yanking him back.

He was waking up.

No, he thought, no I need to make sure she's okay—

Distantly, he heard yours and Chan's voices. Your words between one another were muddied and distorted to Changmin. Before he could even begin to understand what was happening, his eyes opened.

“I could smell lunch through the door,” Juyeon sang to you in greeting as he eagerly beckoned you into the apartment.

You chuckled, shucking your shoes off under the rack by the door. In your hand, you held onto a large bag containing a box of delectably fragrant fried chicken and fries. Oh, glorious sodium and cholesterol. “Yeah, well, imagine my suffering as I was driving over here with it in the car,” you mused.

Juyeon locked the door behind you and took the bag out of your hands.

It was another thing to return to the site of last night's ritual. You'd been in this apartment dozens of times before, but it was difficult to look at the specific spot on the living room floor where the chalk and salt had been. Even if the vacuum cleaner had taken care of all that remained, you couldn't help but choose to sit on the end of the couch farthest from that spot on the floor.

“Oh, could I get a glass of water, by the way?” you asked Juyeon as the two of you began taking things out of the bag to lay them out on the coffee table. “I was feeling a bit lightheaded earlier.”

Juyeon's eyebrows creased as he straightened to head into the kitchen. “Shit, yeah—of course. You drove here while feeling like that? What if you passed out, Yn-ie?”

You snuck a fry into your mouth, murmuring your thanks as he handed you the cup of water. “I'm fine,” you insisted with a vague wave of your hand, “it was just the blood rushing up to my head, I think. And besides, you were already expecting me and I was hungry.”

“I would have woken Changmin up and dragged his ass out of bed.” Juyeon settled onto the couch with you and cracked open the can of Sprite he'd gotten out of the fridge. “You know, Changmin's been getting these random headaches, too. I guess not exactly nausea, but you guys have gotta be more careful,” he waved a fried potato at you as he said this.

The irony could not escape you, and you failed to keep a sarcastic smile to yourself. Uh huh. Be more careful, you say? Too late for that. You took a ginger sip of the water. “Is that right? Maybe he just needs more sleep or something.”

“That's what we thought at first,” Juyeon hummed, idly scratching the back of his neck, “but they happen no matter what he does. There's not really a noticeable pattern.”

You wondered if it had anything to do with his demoness. You couldn't be too sure because you hardly knew anything about his species yourself, but that could explain the seemingly randomness of the headaches. Perhaps it was another question to add to your list.

“Huh.” You frowned. “Well, I hope they go away for him soon.”

Juyeon nodded solemnly. “Yeah, same. Hyunjae's gonna bring over some matcha for him to try… oh, hey! You like matcha—do you want some?”

“Sure, I'd love—”

Your phone buzzed violently in your jacket pocket. A laugh of disbelief flew from your mouth when you saw the caller ID, and you flashed the screen at Juyeon. “Speak of the Devil.”

Juyeon chuckled as you answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, I'm so sorry I missed your text.” His voice, rough from sleep, was accompanied by heavy breathing and the sounds of fabric shuffling in your ear.

You nearly choked, but you remembered that Juyeon was none the wiser to the weird spike in your heartbeat, nor the reason for it. “It's all good; I was being impatient. Juyo said you didn't sleep well.” Your eyes darted to his closed bedroom door and wondered why he hadn't come out yet.

“Yeah.” A brief pause. “Are you—are you okay?”

“Of course, I'm okay,” you drawled, glancing over at Juyeon. “Why? Should I not be okay?”

“No, I mean—” His voice in your ear and behind his bedroom door overlapped one another like two ocean waves colliding along the sand. His door ripped open.

Changmin stood on the threshold with his phone in one hand and the other clutching the doorknob. He was in a loose white T-shirt and sweatpants, a thin layer of sweat making his cheekbones shine. His eyes, a wild creature of their own, landed on you—all of the tension in his body melted away.

He exhaled and sank against the doorframe, ending the call. “Hell…” he muttered under his breath as he dragged a hand through his hair.

Concern had you rising to your feet. “What? What's wrong?”

Changmin closed his bedroom door behind him and collapsed onto the couch somewhere between you and Juyeon. “Bad dream,” he grunted. “How much are we splitting?” The latter was asked as he shoved a fry into his mouth and pulled out the Venmo app on his phone.

You and Juyeon exchanged glances over the blond head: what just happened?; you think I know?

Juyeon sent you a shrug. “Well Yn?”

Now their focus was on you. You took your seat again and reached for your glass of water. “Ten bucks each.”

All of the food that you brought turned into crumbs faster than Cinderella's carriage at midnight. Considering all three of you had barely eaten all day, it was expected. At some point, Juyeon dipped out of the apartment to meet someone for a group project, so that left you and Changmin alone. It was the perfect opportunity to get what you came here for.

“You left pretty abruptly last night,” you said to him as you returned to the couch with a full glass of water. Changmin stood nearly opposite to you, his back against the wall by his bedroom door. He also nursed a cup of water. “And I have some questions.”

He let out a small laugh, his lips pressing his dimples into his cheeks. “I'm sure you do. Sorry, I realized that after I left,” he admitted and raised his free hand up to grab the back of his neck. “So shoot.”

It was strange, you thought. There was no way this guy could be a demon, but was that leaning into stereotype? Last night, that feeling you got when he looked at you from beneath the shadow of his cap… your hairs had stood on their ends and you couldn't shake the spike of adrenaline in your bloodstream. It had been undeniable.

But here he was with a pretty, boyish smile as if he was a completely different person.

“What did you mean by 'intercept the call?’ What exactly happened during the ritual last night?” you asked.

The smile slipped from his face a little, and his eyes flitted over to the spot you had been sitting twelve hours ago. “Like I said,” he began, “you opened a line to Hell—like a phone call, basically. I channeled enough energy to answer it before anyone else from Hell could. And instead of, y'know, appearing in front of you like another demon would, I was already there and just chose to stay quiet when the candles went out.”

You straightened. “So the breeze in the room was your doing?”

Changmin cocked his head to the side with a wince. “I think so? At least, I can't control it yet. Think of it as a physical manifestation of power.”

A physical manifestation of power—you imagined last night's scene from Changmin's point of view, where he stood in the far corner. He would have focused his energy toward the breach between the worlds, and that fulfillment swept through the room like a gust of wind. But then what about all the other times? That moment wasn't the only other instance of a cool breeze on your skin.

When you brought this up to him, Changmin pressed his lips together. “Ah. This?”

On cue, something lightweight and cool brushed past your cheek. Your hand darted up to cover it, and you looked over at Changmin who arched a brow at you. “You get creepier and creepier the more I know you.”

His mouth burst at the seams with a smile. He ducked his blond head, shaking it. You were missing some kind of joke here. “Don't speak too soon,” he said. When he raised his head back up, he ran his tongue over his smile. “It happens when I want it to, it happens when I don't want it to. Just depends.”

“Great.”

“I'll get it under control,” he promised.

You leaned forward onto your knees and pressed your mouth into a slight pout. “Is there anything I can do to bug the shit out of you? This seems like it's only entertaining for you.”

“Well,” Changmin shrugged helplessly, “that's kind of the point of why demons started to do this. They find humans entertaining, and they also like to hold them accountable. The line” —he gave a gentle tug at the invisible string you still couldn't find— “is an insurance policy.”

“Saying it like that just implies it's that much harder to work your way around it.”

“Pretty much.” A grin split his face, and you were struck by the ease you smiled back without having meant to. “Don't look too excited now.”

You flattened your face and voice. “I'm thrilled.”

Before Changmin could respond, you suddenly remembered the main question that plagued you last night. You cleared your throat, your fingers dancing around the sides of your glass. “By the way… why didn't you stop us last night?” You watched his facial expression and how it was carefully knitted into something blank. “If you knew what was going to happen, you could have insisted we stopped, and we would have. Why let us get to this point?” you asked, gesturing between the two of you.

Changmin's throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I was pretty confident that I could intercept it, so there wasn't any real risk with doing the ritual if you guys wanted to have fun. I just didn't count on…” He lifted his right hand, where the pinkish scar was left on his index finger.

He hadn't counted on you getting cut and sealing the bond.

You pinched the space between your eyes. “Ah. My clumsiness has now doomed me to be metaphysically handcuffed to you.”

“I wasn't going to say it…”

“Oh, go to Hell.”

Changmin laughed. “Only if you come with me.”

Heat rushed to the surface of your skin. Sometimes, his mouth moved too fast. You snuck a glance at him through your fingers while he sipped on his water. If you peered close enough, the tips of his ears were flushing to a light pink.

He lowered the glass from his lips, and a crease formed between his brows. “Also,” he said carefully, his tone starkly different from less than a minute ago, “I do have another side effect to add to the list.”

Your stomach flipped. Not another thing—

“I may or may not be able to occupy your physical body when I'm dreaming—”

Changmin grimaced as the bottom of your glass banged against the wooden coffee table. That expression only deepened at the wide-eyed fury—fear—on your face. “And when I was asleep earlier,” he continued on, dooming himself to walk the plank, “I kind of intruded on your reading session, and when you called Juyeon, and when Chan call—”

“Can I murder you? Would that harm me in any way?” you cut in.

His mouth was open, but no words were coming out.

You stood, abandoning your seat on the couch and your water glass, to step across the room toward him. “Because if I could,” you said while pressing the back of your knuckles to your lips, “I can rid myself of the absolute creep of a friend I have!”

Changmin's eyes widened as soon as it hit him—your hand. Your hand hit his shoulder.

He bolted.

“Hey, let's talk about this, Yn-ah!” he exclaimed and dove into the kitchen to duck behind the counter. Some monstrously high-pitched scream left his mouth as he scrambled to stay out of your reach.

“We are talking about this, Changmin-ah.” You charged after him, chasing him around the counter and back out of the kitchen. If you didn't respect Juyeon like you did, you would have fully embraced becoming a bull in a china shop.

Your fist hit the solid plane of his bedroom door just as it slammed in your face. You let out a sound suspiciously close to a growl. “You possessed my body without my consent!”

“It's not like I consented to it either! It just happened!”

“That's not a valid excuse, you panini head!”

“I don't want to possess your body!” he insisted through the door with his voice going higher than the Eiffel Tower. “Why would I want to possess your body? I don't wanna be around when you and bestie Lee Chan gush about Star Trek.”

On certain occasions you really wished you had Superman's laser vision. Then you could burn through this stupid piece of door and roast a demon. “You're not helping yourself, Ji.”

A beat passed. “Look,” he huffed. “It only happened because I was exhausted as shit, okay? I really had no control of it, I swear on my life.”

You remained still with your arms braided across your chest without a word coming to mind.

“I didn't see anything sensitive, I promise, and my body woke me up and pulled me out of it when you got that really bad headache.”

Huh? That bout of lightheadedness… was that related to how the connection was severed? Or at least, hindered? You brushed the curiosity aside; weren't you supposed to be mad at this guy?

“Which was also why I was worried when I woke up and asked if you were okay,” he added in earnest. He did look worried like you were going to die when he woke up…

You glared impetuously at the closed door to the point you were sure even the wood grains were two seconds from apologizing to you. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “But you're not fully off the hook; I just won't use the kitchen knives.”

A choking sound filtered through and you felt the corners of your mouth tug upward.

“What can I do to make it even?” Changmin asked, though he continued to remain behind the closed door.

Frankly, there weren't many things he could do to even the score unless you chose to be creepy and sit in on his private moments. You shuddered—you’d rather not. Those were private for a reason. Maybe he could burn his eyes out with bleach. (Kidding… ish.) “I don't know,” you said half-heartedly, ”tell me a secret.”

A moment of silence passed. “I thought it was hot when you asked if you could kill me.”

Not even an ounce of shame with this one, huh? “You're sick. I'm leaving.”

For the second time today, his bedroom door ripped open. “No, wait, I was kidding! Yn, I was kidding.” (He was not kidding).

You stopped, half-whirled around. In your periphery, he stepped out of his room, but refrained from getting too close. When you turned around fully, the red that dusted his cheekbones was unmistakable. Unfortunately, seeing him flustered was enough for you at the moment.

With a feigned, heavy sigh, you motioned to him. “C'mere.”

Changmin perked up like a confused puppy.

“Come here,” you repeated with more urgency this time. You curled your hand toward you to beckon him closer.

He crept closer to you. There was a gleam of uncertainty and suspicion in his eyes as you continued to gesture at him closer… and closer still. Your heart throttled against your ribcage; your physical body was even unsure of what exactly you had in mind.

Only once his face was close enough you could count his eyelashes were you satisfied. You could hear him gulp.

And maybe you let the moment linger too long. His gaze flickered away from your eye contact for a heartbeat, eyelashes fluttering as he considered something out of the bounds of friendship.

You raised your hand up to his forehead and flicked him between his eyes. Hard.

Changmin yelped and fumbled backward to the boisterous sound of your laughter. He rubbed his forehead furiously where an angry, red mark formed and smarted. He snarled at you, “Not cool!” His face was nearly as red as the mark… oops.

“That's what you get!” you countered with an accusing finger. “Now. Promise me you'll never purposely possess my body in your dreams, you perv.”

A grumble came from the depths of his throat—agreement. “I never did it on purpose,” he mumbled, slapping his hand with yours in a binding handshake. He sounded like a teen boy who's gaming console was just taken away.

“And promise me that you will take care of yourself, so that we can get out of this binding thing and so that you don't accidentally possess me.”

“Didn't you offer to get possessed last night?” Changmin stiffened as the words left his lips. “I didn't mean that! Don't get the kitchen knives!”

His giggles pierced the air, sharp but endearing, as he scrambled back into his room with you clinging to his heels. “Or get the kitchen knives—it’s kind of hot.”

“Ji Changmin.”

PART III: THE RELATIVE

WHEN YOU APPEARED IN YOUR 8:30 biopsychology lecture on Monday morning, you had nearly forgotten that the world had not completely turned upside down when you bound your soul to Changmin’s. No one else but you and he knew about it, and it seemed he was determined to keep it that way. Nonetheless, when you settled in your usual seat about midway up the lecture hall, close to the exit on stage right, you looked into Yeh Shuhua’s terrifyingly beautiful eyes and almost blurted your secret.

It was because of that reason, and the fact that she was one of your close friends. She was one of the participants of the ritual; it was only right that you disclosed to her the consequences of all your actions. However, the reminder from Changmin echoed in your head like a dull heartbeat: Don’t tell any of them. Don’t do something stupid like Hyunjae or Shuhua. He realized that ‘stupid’ applied to him, too, right?

“You seem antsy,” were her first words to you as you finally decided on how you would roll up your jacket. It had taken a couple tries and configurations before you settled on just draping it over the chair behind you.

You straightened in your chair. Perhaps subtlety was not with you this morning. “My coffee was too strong,” you said.

She snorted, a bright and unassuming sound, as she pulled her laptop out from her bag. “Honey, you don’t drink coffee.”

…Right. You let the words sink in to properly register your dumbassery, then settled on the most basic excuse known to college students. “It’s too early for this.”

“Amen.” Conversation saved.

When you first signed up for this class, you were under the impression that it would be a riveting insight into the brain and its inner workings. Alas, your professor from Psych101 did you a disservice by testifying to Psych210’s interest factor, because it was entirely lacking in interesting things. The majority of what was being discussed in lecture could be read about via the slides, but unfortunately, participation was mandatory. Even worse was that this class was the prerequisite to the neuroscience class that was actually interesting.

You didn’t like to critique the teaching skills of a professor who was meant to research and not to teach, but you were going to for the umpteenth time.

Beside you, Shuhua barely swallowed a yawn and hid the last bits of it behind the lid of her coffee tumbler. She took a sip, then leaned over to you. “I’m pretty sure I learned all of this in freshman year biology.”

“Is that right,” you murmured. You hadn’t taken the introductory biology series because you were only minoring in psychology, whereas Shuhua was a neuroscience major. “You must really be suffering then.”

Her head slowly touched down onto your shoulder. “Tell me about it… by the way, did you hear about the house party that’s happening on Saturday?”

You hummed. “Who’s hosting?” House parties were usually something you needed to be a part of a friend group to be invited to. Though, that was usually the case for all parties in college, you’d found out. Fraternity parties were oftentimes exclusive to Greeks, or if you knew a frat brother or sorority sister. Other parties were spread by word of mouth and required an entrance fee that amounted to a fraudulent sum of money. Thus, if you went to any party, it was either a house party hosted by a friend of a friend, or one of your friends’ birthday parties.

“Hm… it’s my family friend’s kid’s friend group.” She paused, then clarified her statement, “Yangyang. You know Yangyang, right?

You made a sound of acknowledgement. “Isn't he friends with Xiaojun, Kevin, and Yuqi, that group?”

“That's the one,” she chirped. “But he only lives with Xiaojun and a couple other guys. It's a house in one of the neighborhoods nearby.”

“I see. Are we going?”

“Of course we are, silly.” Shuhua blindly patted one of your hands and you imagined that her eyes were likely already closed. You and your friends were accustomed to forcing one another to socialize outside the group from time to time; it made the college riptide a bit easier to swim through. “I just didn't know if you were aware or not yet.”

“Well, now I am,” you chuckled.

“You sure are.”

The remainder of the lecture went by as dull as it usually did, and 9:30 could not come faster. You and Shuhua bumbled out of the packed auditorium among the crowd of others filing out.

A yawn stretched your mouth open as you checked your phone. “You've got a class after this, right?” you asked Shuhua.

She nodded. “Unfortunately. Do you wanna have lunch together afterward?”

“Ah” —guilt anchored itself to the pit of your stomach, allowing the urge to spill your secret to dwindle— “I'm actually hanging out with Changmin today.” Neither of you had terribly busy Mondays, so you both decided to do some solution-hunting together, whatever that meant. He just needed to be back by the time his dance rehearsal started.

Her mouth quirked to the side in a slight frown. “Oh, okay. Just you two?”

“Yep.”

For a second, you thought she was gazing right into your soul where the invisible knot was tied linking you to your mutual friend. But she suddenly smiled and blew you a kiss. “No worries! Have fun.”

You blinked, the anxiety lingering. “Yeah… thanks. You, too.”

Shuhua left first to hurry off to her next class while you remained in the lobby. You had fully expected that she would at least ask what the two of you were doing, and you were prepared to come up with another dumb excuse. It wasn't suspicious that you and Changmin were hanging out alone, right? There were plenty of instances where you hung out solo with your close friends.

You brushed it away. It was the paranoia talking.

You headed toward the nearest parking lot. Because you lived relatively close to campus, there was usually no need to drive, but since you and Changmin were going elsewhere in the city, you opted to drive.

As you settled into the front seat, you sent him a text to let you know you were on your way over to his apartment. It would be convenient if you could somehow use the soul-bond to communicate with him instead, you thought as you navigated through campus to a nearby neighborhood. Alas, based on what Changmin told you before, the bond was more useful to him than it was for you. How wonderful.

You let your car run as you pulled up to the curb outside of his apartment complex. Through the windows on the first floor, a periwinkle sheen caught your eye. There wasn’t much doubt in your mind that it was the ribbon Changmin tied to his bicycle. It was his favorite color—not that you knew that for any particular reason, other than the fact that you were friends. It was useful information for birthday cards, was your reasoning.

Before you could meander down some weird mental road of thoughts, the passenger side door opened and closed. Your counterpart was dressed in dark green today: dark green sweater, a darker but muted shade of cargo pants, followed by a matching cap shoved over his blond hair. “Hi,” he said, strapping himself in with the seatbelt and setting his bag down by his feet.

He looked particularly pocket-sized today with the cheeky, dimpled smile on his face and you smiled in greeting. “Hi!” you chirped back. “Where to?”

“An aunt of mine lives downtown. Do you know how to get to Union Station?”

You nodded, tugging the car into drive, “Yup. Wow, she lives down by the waterfront?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. When he did, he ducked his head so you only caught a glimpse of that dimpled smile. “She’s married to a siren.”

Your eyes went wide, and his laugh grew louder. You flattened your expression into a deadpan as heat rushed to the back of your neck. “Don’t laugh,” you muttered. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’d say for you to not pout then, but it’s cute,” he replied with that smile lingering on his face in the form of a half-smirk. He had pulled his phone out to text someone. “I’m only laughing because I had a feeling you’d react like that, and I was right.”

You huffed. “I feel like I’m at too much of a disadvantage around you.”

“You have more power than you think.” Changmin passed you a glance and deposited his phone in the cupholder. He leaned his cheek against his knuckles. “You just need to exercise it.”

“Well, I can’t exactly threaten you with kitchen knives and forehead flicks all the time.”

He shrugged. “That’s not what I meant, but it’s whatever. How was class?”

Changmin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae were all aware of yours and Shuhua’s disdain for your shared biopsychology class. The complaints had filed (flooded) in as soon as the first week of classes were over. You could gab on and on about the boredom that plagued you, but you hardly wanted to be a broken record when there were other things to talk about. “It was fine,” you said, then swiftly moved to something else. “I think I almost told Shuhua, like, twice about the soul bond thing. Why can’t we tell them again?”

“Do you really think they’d believe us?”

You thought about it—about the twin cuts on your index fingers, the unseen string that tethered your souls together, the dream that Changmin had. They would think Changmin had roped you into his regular shenanigans, and in a way, he had. You sighed, albeit reluctantly. “True. But it just feels…” you grimaced. “Is it weird that I feel guilty?”

Changmin shook his head. “No, I’ve had to tiptoe around my mom’s and my true nature around you guys for years. It’s natural to wanna be truthful to your friends, Yn, but some things are better left unsaid.”

“Is there a reason why the supernatural community stays hidden? Is that something I can ask?”

“Of course,” he said easily, turning his gaze out the window. “It’s just that it’s better—safer—for us this way. Humans can hardly handle differences amongst themselves as it is; imagine what would happen if they found that even more species of sentient beings existed, y’know?”

Truth was a difficult pill to swallow. It was a capsule that often found itself lodged in a throat rather than being digested. And even if it eventually managed to make it to the stomach, it sank to the bottom like a body anchored by bricks in a river. There was, unfortunately, much merit to what Changmin said.

Your eyes flickered to your side mirrors as you merged onto the highway. “I see.”

“It’s definitely relieving that at least one of my close friends knows the truth now, though.” He knocked the back of his hand against your arm in a warm gesture, and although you were unable to return the expression or even look at him then, he was looking at you.

Because you and Changmin set off just after rush hour passed, the drive through the downtown scene was relatively easy. The rest of your time in the car was spent chatting about the party Yangyang and his housemates were throwing, as well as Changmin directing you to his aunt’s residence by the marina. His ability to give directions left much to be desired; your car was filled with shouts and bickering whenever he told you to turn too late.

Somehow though, you arrived at the right street, and he even helped you find a parking spot along a curb that didn’t involve ungodly hourly parking rates. You wouldn’t call it a complete redemption, but he was on his way toward one.

“Are you sure it’s cool if we just show up unannounced like this?” you asked him, tilting your head back to peer up at the apartments that towered above you. Some of the windows were left open and their curtains drifted whimsically in the mid-morning breeze; some of the fire escapes were connected by copper-colored ladders, fitting together like a puzzle. You liked to think that complexes like this housed residents who were friendly to one another like some fantasy video game—a pair of friends hanging out of their windows to gossip across the fire escapes, a cat sleeping in the window—that sort of thing.

Changmin stood next to you, but his gaze was turned out to the marina in the distance, the sails of boats in the foreground of the slate blue-gray of the bay water. “Yeah, it’s cool. And we’re not exactly unannounced; I told her we were coming.”

“When?” You followed him in through the front door. The hinges squealed upon use and the door shuddered violently when it closed.

“In the car.”

You deadpanned at his back as you followed him up the stairs. “You’re an awful relative.”

“Don’t all relatives show up to their other relatives' homes unannounced?” he jested. “I’m a model nephew, actually.”

“A model in what standard? Hell?”

He shrugged up ahead, glancing back to pass you a boyish grin. “Yeah, basically. My mom says demons just kind of teleport into their relatives’ homes unannounced.”

“So that’s where your incredible lack of boundaries comes from,” you said and glowered up at him.

You met Changmin on the landing of the second floor and ducked out of the stairwell into the dimly-lit corridor. It was quiet here in the middle of the day, but you could hear the muffled sounds of television programs and voices emanating behind different doors you passed by. The carpet was well-trodden and didn’t kick dust up when you walked, and the overall smell was vaguely fishy and reminiscent of the seafood section of a supermarket.

“Cultural difference,” he replied cheekily. “This is hers, Aunt Jenna’s.” He gestured to the door he stood at with a rusted, gold B29 hanging on its surface just above the peephole.

You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. “Anything I should know before going in?”

Changmin paused and his face flashed with realization. It translated roughly, but accurately enough, to ‘Uh oh.’ He opened his mouth to say something, but the door beat him to it.

Correction: his aunt beat him to it. Or at least, she was who you assumed was his aunt. Her facial features and bone structure weren't similar to Changmin’s at all, but those eyes—dark like the deepest corner of a shadow; engulfing, embracing, enveloping—her eyes were what made familiarity pang in your chest where the soul-knot sat.

Her mouth stretched into a bright smile. “Changmin-ah! And his significant other, isn’t it—or kids these days say partner instead, hm? Don’t be strangers now; come in, come in!”

What did she just say? You have got to be kidding me.

Too overwhelmed to think, you let his aunt usher you and Changmin in through her front door. You threw—chucked—an alarmed glance over at your counterpart, who could only meet your wide eyes with his own. Shoes were exchanged for slippers, and you were guided toward a couch settled in one part of the cozy living space.

“It’s nice to meet you, Aunt Jenna,” you finally managed to say through the heat flaring up your neck and behind your ears. “But I do have to, uhm, correct you.”

Changmin coughed beside you on the couch as his aunt perched on the coffee table across from you both. “She’s not my romantic partner, auntie. Yn’s just a friend.”

You nodded earnestly.

His aunt’s face flickered from that sunny smile to a more somber surprise. She broke into a sheepish sort of laugh, absentmindedly brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, well how silly of me. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—I got embarrassingly excited,” she confessed. She addressed Changmin specifically, reaching over to whack his knee, “You used the word for lover when you texted me earlier!”

Changmin’s hands rocketed up as both you and his aunt fixed him with pointed looks. “It was a typo and an honest mistake,” he swore. “I haven’t spoken or written in that demonic dialect in awhile,” he said to you, “and the words for friend and lover are, like, one letter different.”

His mouth had pursed into an unconscious pout, and you reached over to flick him between the eyes. Bone against fingernail, and the dense thunk sound the impact produced was quite satisfying.

“Ow! I'm sorry!”

You turned to a rather amused Aunt Jenna. “I'm sorry I did that in front of you. I swear, I won't make a habit out of it.” That remained to be seen, however. How had you refrained from flicking him for his behavior before this?

She chuckled. “I'm sure he's warranted it more than once. It's nice to meet you, Yn.”

“Likewise. You have a lovely home.”

Changmin held his forehead with his hat now sitting in his lap, and his eyes narrowed at the two of you. “This was the worst idea I've ever had.”

“Do you drink tea, Yn?” his aunt asked you, waving aside her nephew's comment. “I'll make us some tea and we can talk about whatever you both came to discuss.”

Tea was served on an elegant tray made of polished dark wood. The color was a deep red, as if it had been dipped in a vat of blood, and was engraved with images of what you assumed to be flowers with long stems crowned with big, beautiful petals. You nursed a Finding Nemo mug between your palms, gently blowing on the steam that wafted out of the aromatic floral tea.

Just the fragrance of the drink was enough to put you at ease. The muscles and knots in your shoulders loosened, your frown lines smoothed over. You took a gentle sip and savored the tangible warmth that streamed down your throat and into your stomach.

You nodded to Aunt Jenna who's dark eyes gleamed knowingly over the rim of her mug. “That's very good,” you said.

“Isn't it? Would you like to take some home?”

Changmin harrumphed from beside you after taking a hulking gulp of his own drink. “Guys, please.”

“Mm yes, yes.” Aunt Jenna waved her free hand flippantly. “Your problem.”

While Jenna had prepared the tea, you and Changmin explained to her how your souls became tied together. Most of the explanation consisted of specific details of the ritual itself, not the circumstances before. You described the physical sensations on your end, and Changmin added in his out-of-body experience.

When your piece was said, it left Aunt Jenna to marinate on all the facts. She took a sip of her drink first. “Well, you're both fools, but you” —she wiggled an accusing finger at her nephew— “especially. How could you be so irresponsible as to let your friends go through with a bargaining ritual?”

Changmin grabbed the back of his neck and hung his head like a kicked puppy. “It didn't seem like the end of the world if they wanted to have fun.”

“I suppose,” Jenna muttered, but not without some sympathy. She was a demon living amongst humans, too, after all. “But look where that's gotten you both. There are just far too many unforeseen variables that could have made this situation ten times worse. You and Yn becoming soul-bound is probably the best outcome, frankly.”

You would beg to differ, but you kept your lips stitched together and attached to the rim of your mug.

“But as for undoing it, I'm afraid there aren't many options.”

You detached your mouth from the mug.

You and Changmin exchanged a glance with one another. He asked, “What are our options?”

Aunt Jenna's mouth pursed slightly to form small divots in the sides of her cheeks. “The one most accessible to you is to bargain with another, more powerful demon to take over your bond with Yn.”

“Absolutely not,” he interjected. “That's out of the question.”

“I guessed as much,” she said, taking another sip. “Then it's quite literally impossible—unless you used cursed magic—but even if you didn't care about facing the hellish consequences, gaining access to a Book of the Diabolical is insanely difficult.”

Though you were completely ignorant to almost everything Aunt Jenna was saying, you weren't so ignorant to her message between the lines: you were fucked. Supremely.

Looking over at Changmin only confirmed what you were thinking. There seemed to be a war being waged behind his eyes as he clutched his mug in his lap and glared at a grain in the hardwood floor. This situation was partially your fault and his, and now, the only thing you could do was to drown in the consequences.

You turned to his aunt. “Then how can we live with it?” In your periphery, Changmin's head raised. “I mean, are there techniques to better control this situation, like on both Changmin's end and my end if we can't simply rid ourselves of it?”

Aunt Jenna considered you for a moment, then nodded slowly. “There are,” she said. “Control is something very valuable to demons, Yn. I don't know how much Changmin's told you—”

You sent him a thin smile.

“—but mastering your own body is one of the most integral things young demons first learn. If you don't have control over your mind and body, then how could you possibly be trusted to control anything else?”

That made sense, you thought. It was a thoughtful principle, too, that others (humans) could learn from. What other parts of demon culture and values were there that these two would be willing to share with you?

Jenna had finished her cup of tea by now and set her empty mug back onto the tray. “So the easiest way, I think, to safeguard yourselves against one another is to strengthen your minds.”

What exactly Aunt Jenna had in mind was meditation. Because you were human and couldn't exactly perform the same demonic energy rituals and mind exercises that Jenna and Changmin could, meditation was the next best group activity. In order to do this, Jenna shut all of the curtains and sealed the living room off from the outside world. The coffee table and sofa were shoved to the edges of the room, while the empty space was occupied by three bath towels and a Bath and Body Works candle.

It was reminiscent of the ritual from That Night, but your heart rate sat a little more stable with the belief that you were in capable hands this time.

The three of you arranged yourselves in a loose triangle around the lit candle, its small flame shuddering at the force of your breaths.

“You can place your hands wherever you're most comfortable,” Aunt Jenna said lowly, softly—a vocal embodiment of the small head of fire upon the candle. “Sit up straight, close your eyes, and breathe in deep… let the darkness envelope you.”

There weren't many moments when you considered yourself petty, salty, or bitter. But at this very moment, you were most certainly all three at once.

“Are you really still mad that you fell asleep?” The question was posed with as much audacity as there was incredulity in his voice.

You didn't have to direct your glaring eyes at Changmin for him to feel the edge. “It was embarrassing,” you grumbled.

“Aw, it's okay. Not everyone has the mental fortitude to meditate.”

And you do? you wanted to snap back like a five year old. Instead, you tightened your grip on the steering wheel and focused on not steering the two of you off the road. “I will literally ditch you on the highway.”

He leaned his head against the window to watch you with a twinkle in his eyes and a toothy grin on his lips. “And I will literally haunt you in your sleep.”

The pair of you were in the car driving back up to the university. You had just left Aunt Jenna's about fifteen minutes ago after the failed meditation session (for you) and her insisting you both stayed for lunch. With your stomachs full and your heads quite literally empty, there was nothing left to do but to return home.

There had been a moment before you both left when Jenna pulled Changmin aside to have a private conversation. You had lingered outside the apartment door, but couldn't hear anything despite it being left slightly ajar. There must have been some crazy soundproofing done on her apartment. A charm, perhaps?

But when Changmin came to join you, you picked up the tail end of their talk. It had to do with Changmin pleading with her not to tell his mom about what happened; Aunt Jenna would only agree if he promised to babysit her kids next week.

That thought made you smile to yourself even through the cloud of salty pettiness in your vision. What was Changmin like around kids? The guy was rather childish himself, but… you wouldn't deny that he would probably be good—

“What are you smiling about?” he mused as he peered out from under the brim of his cap. He reclined his seat back a little and crossed his arms over his chest, settling himself in for the ride back.

You scoffed and forced the smile away. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He hummed. “Methinks it was about me,” he teased and tugged his cap further over his eyes so even his mouth was barely visible. At your silence, he murmured, “Also, I hope you're not bothered about earlier.”

“Hm?”

“I mean—the fact that you weren't able to meditate. And,” he added quickly, “I'm not trying to make fun of you. It's just that that was the only way Aunt Jenna could think that you could safeguard yourself against me. I'm gonna be really good about this, Yn, I swear. I don't—y’know, I don't want anything to change between us.”

Ah. Well, since his hat was over his eyes, you allowed your smile to slip back into place. The weight in your chest was warm, a comforting sort of tightness. You were gradually getting more accustomed to its presence, and at this particular moment, you were glad to be aware of it.

“I believe you,” you said to him. “And I don't want anything to change between us either.” You were friends before the ritual, and you would continue to be friends after it.

You were content with being accompanied by your thoughts and the radio for the remainder of the ride. Your companion in the passenger seat had drifted to sleep at some point when the highways began to grow rather congested with the early afternoon traffic. Changmin had a dance rehearsal in a couple hours, which gave some leeway as to what time you needed to get him back by.

By the time you hit the university district, the sun perched lower in a sky spotted with cirrus clouds, wispy and drifting in the autumn breeze. The filter it cast over the world was a mute gold, warm.

Changmin peered out his side window as you navigated through the busy streets, his face nearly pressed up against the glass because his cap was turned around. There was far too much foot traffic at three in the afternoon, but it was unfortunately a popular time to be out and about for students on a Monday. “Could you drop me off at the sandwich shop on the corner over there?” he asked suddenly, his voice gravelly from disuse. He inclined his chin further down the block, and you had enough time to switch lanes.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmured, glancing over at him. “You don’t want me to drop you off straight at the dance hall?”

“Nah, I’ve got a couple hours, so I think I’m gonna get another bite to eat first.” He rummaged around in the bag at his feet, double checking that he had brought along everything he needed. “D’you wanna…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head up toward you.

You hummed in question and furrowed your brows in concentration to direct your car into a parking spot along the curb.

“Did you wanna come in with me? I don’t know what your plans are after this.” Changmin had one foot out the door, but the rest of his body remained here with you, in the car, as if hesitant to leave just yet. With the brim of his cap turned around, you could better see his face, the hair pushed out of his dark eyes. There was a small smile seated upon his lips, hopeful in the way it curved into his cheeks in the way you always found slightly endearing.

Your hand lingered by your seatbelt. What were your plans after this? Nothing, right? “I mean, if you don—”

“Yn, is that you?”

The voice and the interruption elicited similar jolts from both of you. Your head whipped around on instinct to locate the person who had called out to you.

Crossing the street to you now was Lee Chan. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder, and he waved a hand at you when he caught your eye. But they flickered away from you to someone behind you—Changmin straightened to his full height, his head appearing over the roof of the car.

You glanced back at your counterpart. That smile, so boyish and innocent, had grown an edge.

“Thanks for the ride, Yn,” Changmin said to you, ducking his head to address you. He reached into the car so he could clasp your hand, his fingers clutching yours as he stole your gaze away… they lingered. “I’ll talk to you later, hm?”

You nodded, unsure why you were so dumbfounded. “Yeah, sure,” you stammered out. “I had fun today.”

“Same.” And there was that smile again. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it had softened out at the corners. With a final raise of his hand, he shut your passenger door and jogged off toward the shop.

You blinked as air suddenly filled your lungs again. Had you been holding your breath the whole time? You forgot to wish him a good rehearsal.

A knock on your window had you swiveling your head around. Chan grinned as you rolled your window down. “Hey, what’ve you been up to?”

Not a mention of Changmin, you noted. You were aware of Changmin and Chan’s dislike for one another, and though it caused you a torrent of internal conflict, there was nothing that you could do about it. If they were unwilling to talk about it with each other or with you, then there was no use. Both of them were important figures in your life, so it was just as important that you could keep them both—was that selfish? It seemed that they were able to somewhat coexist, however, if they participated on the same dance team. How did that even work out?

“I was out with Changmin for most of the day,” you said. “We were just… y’know, visiting a relative of his downtown.” There was no harm in saying that, right?

Chan’s expression didn’t even shudder. “Oh? I didn’t know he had relatives downtown.”

Of course, you didn’t. You appreciated that he tried to be civil about Changmin around you, but sometimes the pretense was more aggravating than the petty disdain. “Yeah, they were really nice. We drank tea and chatted a bit.”

“Glad it was a chill time,” he smiled. “Ah, speaking of—I was wondering if you wanted to go visit Chaeyoung noona with me sometime this week? I've been trying to figure out the best time to go see her before midterms.”

You brightened at the mention of Chan's older sister. Though his parents had passed away before Chan graduated high school, he was supported mostly by his older sister, Chaeyoung. You'd heard and seen for yourself the chronic illness that she was cursed with, however. There had been a decent stretch in time when her situation looked much better, but recently, she had been forced back into long-term care at the hospital.

“Yeah, definitely! It'll be nice to see her after so long. Just text me and let me know what day you decide.” The last time you saw Chaeyoung was probably at the start of the past summer break when you went home to see your parents with Chan. Though you and Chan were around the same age, he acted more as an older brother figure to you, likely because of Chaeyoung's good influence.

The golden hour sun glinted its rays into your eyes, and you were reminded of the time. “Oh, don’t you have dance practice soon? Need a ride over?”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t need a ride,” he said. “I was about to meet Vernon in the cafe down the street though. Do you wanna come with?”

The idea of accepting his invitation crossed your mind, but the ache in your legs and at the nape of your neck were suddenly a lot more prominent than before. You hadn’t even realized how tired you were. “Not this time; I think I'm a little tired. Thanks for the invite, though!”

He pressed his mouth together in slight disappointment, but waved it away with a casual hand motion. “Of course. Drive home safe, then.”

“I will. Have a good time, Chan.”

Chan returned the sentiment back to you, but instead of leaving right away, his lips parted another time. He paused, concern gleaming in his eyes—or was that the setting sun? You couldn’t tell the difference, but there was something he couldn’t quite articulate with words that his facial expression was desperate to reveal to you instead.

You frowned. “Something wrong?”

He let out a small laugh and brushed away the thought. “No, don’t worry about it.”

Are you aware that you've been cursed?

Aunt Jenna's words echoed in Changmin's head ceaselessly throughout the dance rehearsal. They had been subdued slightly when he was asleep in your car earlier, but consciousness tended to surface more nightmares than the unconscious state. Even in the bright light of day, those shadows found a way to creep in and force him into some horrific tunnel vision.

No, he wasn't aware that he'd been cursed. How could he?

Out of everything he thought she pulled him aside for, that was the last thing he expected. The look in her eyes—those dark irises that mirrored his in depth—had been stricken by a grave worry. Those all-knowing eyes, far surpassing his in experience, had taken one look at him coming in through the door and determined something horrible had happened.

A curse?

You haven't been feeling strange lately? She had grasped him by the shoulders, her hands firm in their iron grip. Any strange aches and pains?

The headaches. He told her about the random, spotty headaches that had been plaguing him recently. It hadn't occurred to him at all that they could even be a side effect for a curse.

I've heard some strange things have been going on to the demons in your area. The curse has subsided for now because of your half-humanness, but…

Changmin could fill in the blanks.

His appeal to Aunt Jenna about not telling his mom about any of this included both the soul-bond and the curse. Based on what his aunt told him, there have been demons in this area who have been forced into critical conditions by an energy-stealing curse. That would explain his frequent headaches and his increased exhaustion. Though, the headaches had been on the decline as of late, which coincided with the other part of Jenna's warning.

He was at odds. He couldn't simply sit around and wait for whatever maniac was at large to suddenly stop. He and all the other demons around him were sitting ducks. Worrying about the soul-bond was one thing, but he supposed this now took priority.

Changmin hunched over his bag in one of the darkened corners of the practice room. The lights had been turned down slightly as their four reserved hours drew to a close. It was a hard night, but the sweat, heat, and adrenaline was a delightfully addicting mixture.

Absent-mindedly, he rubbed a palm over his chest. The invisible knot there that linked you to him tightened at the attention. He had made a habit of this over the course of the past few hours; the physical sensation of the string tugging grounded him and kept him from disappearing into his head too much.

Could you feel him on the other end? He was certain you could if he made it obvious. If he tugged just right—

“Ji. I need to talk to you.”

The only sign of surprise Changmin let Lee Chan see was the raising of his eyebrows. “I don't need to talk to you.”

“It's about Yn.”

Changmin's movements froze. He let go of his bag's strap and zippers with a sigh, then straightened up to meet Chan eye to eye. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What about Yn?” You were his problem now, whether you liked it or not.

Chan's eyes narrowed at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I don't know what you think you're doing with her, but you need to stop. It was enough that she's friends with you—”

He couldn't help but scoff. What the fuck is he going on about? Changmin's mouth twisted into an incredulous smirk, the points of his canines peering out from under his lip as he jabbed his tongue into his cheek. “I was wondering when you'd finally drop the Nice Guy act.”

“This isn't about me putting up a front,” Chan quipped in hushed tones. He wouldn't have done so if he wanted to make a scene. “This isn't even about us not liking each other. My problem is that you're roping Yn into your—your fucking bullshit.”

Changmin furrowed his brows. “You're being vague and dramatic, Lee Chan. I really don't have the time or the patience for this.”

“I know who you really are, Ji.” In any other context, those words in that order would have made Changmin bark out a laugh.

Changmin shuddered as he sized up Lee Chan in a different light. It was almost funny how perspective could change everything. In the daylight and bright fluorescents, Chan was a model kid with a charming smile and unshakeable charisma. He cared about you and watched over you like a brother. But without the presence of light was when Changmin was most afraid of what he saw. It was not because he was afraid of the dark—the shadows, frankly, were a demon's ally—it was because the dark did something to Chan in the same way blood infested clear water.

Chan's mouth was set in a firm line, and nothing about his facial expression or stance gave even an inkling that he was bluffing.

“I still have no fucking clue what you're talking about,” Changmin replied lowly, scooping his bag up and brushing past Chan.

He went to find Juyeon. The organ in his chest pumped his blood wickedly fast through his system; the blood thundered in his ears, loud and deafening, like an oncoming train. Aunt Jenna was in his head, you were in his chest, Lee Chan was at his back.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

He and Juyeon were out the door in a flash, but Changmin glanced backward—because we always turned toward that which was capable of our demise; that was survival instinct—and he flinched when Chan's eyes caught his again.

Changmin let the door slam behind him as he stole into the cold night. If only the darkness could hide him from whatever just happened.

read part two here (if the link isn't there yet, refresh out of this page and it'll be linked at the top)

permanent taglist 1: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu / fic taglist: @tbzhubrecs

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #bjnet #ji changmin x reader #dbn: boyz who bite #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin oneshots #changmin oneshot #ji changmin drabbles #changmin drabble

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thefreakandthehair · 2 months ago

Text

“Oh shit, your shirt’s a little… uh, well, you probably shouldn’t wear it.” Steve grimaces and nods at the black band tee strewn across the bottom corner of the bed, crusty stains settling in from where Eddie had impatiently wiped himself down before Steve got back with a warm washcloth.

“Yeah, that thing’s a biohazard right now. Honestly, it’s fine. We can always get a redo, if you really, really want one, tomorrow or something. I doubt any places are gonna let me in without a shirt. My big scary tattoos will frighten the midwestern townsfolk.”

Steve places both hands on his hips and Eddie wants to kiss him.

Again, and again, and again.

“Just wear one of mine. Your jeans are fine, so here.” He turns around and flits through the drawer once more, tugging out a shirt and tossing it to Eddie with a hesitant smile.

Among the many rumors that have circulated about Eddie Munson, the one he holds in highest contempt is that he’s stupid. That he took so many tries to graduate high school because he was dumb, incapable.

He’s not.

Eddie isn’t stupid, and he’s been around Steve long enough to learn all about the courting rituals of a jock, about how his teammate’s girlfriends and partners wear their names across their backs to show they’re… well, theirs.

So when Steve hands him a maroon tee-shirt with white hems, the Indiana University emblem on the front and Harrington written across the back, he knows what the gesture means.

He pulls the shirt over his frizzy mess of curls and secretly hopes he’s right.

↳read chapter three of slipped between these ribs of mine [explicit] on ao3! written for @steddiesmuttyseptember!

some people asked to be tagged and I can't for the life of me remember so just tagging some peeps who expressed interest (lemme know if you don't wanna be, of course!): @sageclipse @pearynice @steddieasitgoes @stervrucht @runninriot

@lunaticmarunatic @lihhelsing @steddie-island @kas-eddie-munson @sidekick-hero

@spectrum-spectre @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @kkpwnall @starryeyedjanai

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @steddieas-shegoes @vecnuthy @hyperrbolic-orange @hotluncheddie

@stedumpsterfire @fkinkindagauche @pluckedstrings

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #myfic #steddie smutty september

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derangedanomaly · 11 months ago

Note

sorry for this request, but I love your writing style and all the info you put in♡♡ Also want you to take a break if you get overwhelmed but here's my request.

Can you do Bad sanses + Epic sans x Death god reader? (Basically the reader but they're a god of death to help the balance with Reaper sans since Reader usually offers to help him)

It's absolutely fine, I feel so touched about the compliment..I'm happy that y'all like my work! Hope you enjoy this one, dear requester! ;)

SANS AUS X READER THAT'S THE GOD OF DEATH

(Nightmare, Dust, Killer, Horror, Cross, Error, Epic, Reaper)

Nightmare:

He's very confused at the start to be honest. There's already a reaper, why is there another one?? Was his question, which he (at the end), finally understood.

Holds respect towards you. I mean, you have the responsibility of every dead person, and you never failed. Respect.

Wants to know more about the whole concept of death, but is too busy to focus on it 😭

Is rather surprised that you don't have the 'touch of death' like Reaper, but instead work...kinda like Hades.

Is very jealous every time you help out Reaper. He literally can't stand it, so he just stays in his room to sulk for the whole day. 😂

Very quickly found out that you're immortal, and that mortal weapons don't do shit to your health.

Feels a little unstoppable now that they have the God of Death on their side. (You don't play on sides though, which he doesn't know 😀)

Would love to see how you work. The concept of death always interested him, so he always asks questions about it whenever he has the chance.

Dust:

Dust is not the type of person to simp over someone so quickly. Unless it's you.

The first time he sees you, he literally can't think straight. Finds you very attractive. (The fact that you're the god of death makes him feel something. 💀)

He feels so disgusted by himself, like... Killer's supposed to be the simp here, not him!

Since he's kind of like a nerd when it comes to monster species, he literally geeks out when you two are alone, but he also can't talk properly to you, because he's so attracted to you. 😭

You once took him to the underworld and he almost combusted right then and there. You found it quite cute how he almost resembled a kid in a toy store.

Dust doesn't like Reaper much, so when he found out that you two work together....things didn't end up very good. 😀

Killer makes fun of Dust constantly whenever you're around, but Dust always makes him regret that decision... (He beats his ass)

He has those heart eyes around you, which is really cute 😭

Killer:

Everyone knows that Killer will flirt with anything that walks. So of course his first thought was to flirt with you.

He's always close by whenever you're working, which you quickly found out that it's because he's following you, and not in a cute way. (Stalker vibes 💀)

Look, he just has nothing to do, and he's curious about your work.

One time threatened Nightmare that he can use your deadly touch on him, which backfired, since your powers don't work like that 💀 (Nightmare chased Killer for a long time after that)

Is confused on why you're even offering your help to Reaper. (Also doesn't like Reaper 😢)

Calls you weird nicknames, like...'Deadly Cutie' or just straight up 'Dead'

Wants to redo that one scene in Puss in boots with you, but you don't have time for that. He never gives up though.

Uses those stupid cringe pick-up lines. "Is it true that you are death? Because I’m hoping you’ll bring me along." 💀

Horror:

His first thought was that if he died if he tried to eat you 💀

Horror, in some aspects, kind of reminds you of your dog, Cerberus, so you can't help but treat him as one sometimes.

He's just a hungry killer...so your solution? Feed him the people that died. 💀

After you first gave him the approval to eat the person that died, he's just following you around whenever.

Him and Cerberus don't quite get along, they're both jealous of one another.

The only way you can make them co-operate is if you call them "My boys". Which is doing some things to Horror. 😏

"Ugh..look, I don't want you to do that, ok?! My boys! Come with me." "YES SIR/MA'AM!"

Doesn't mind the fact that you're working with Reaper. He actually likes him! ^^ (FIRST SKELETON TO EVER LIKE REAPER!!!)

Cross:

He literally runs away, the first time he learns about who you are.

Look, he's just frightened about your position, he doesn't want to die. (For now)

It calms his nerves when he finds out that you don't have the deadly touch. Thank god for that...

Cross takes a little time before he starts to trust someone, so he's very much just keeping his distance at first.

Couldn't help but soften at the sight of you with Cerberus. He's a sucker for dogs, so he lets his guard down, and relaxes while being with you.

This event got you two much closer, as expected, Cerberus like Cross very much! Cross gives Cerberus belly scratches. 🥺

After that, he's always offering himself whenever you need help babysitting Cerberus! He's actually really good, so you let him. ^^

Also doesn't mind that you work with Reaper. Just keeps his distance whenever you two are together.

Error:

Is amazed by the fact that you're the god of death.

Observes your work, behavior, anything! Very closely...

He literally becomes your fanboy. (Him and Dust literally talk about you all the time 💀)

His fanboyism isn't as big as Dust's though. He has his limits

Always showing off around you, to make you impressed. Showing off his powers, past, knowledge... Anything that can make you fall for him!

He's the first one to volunteer to help you out whenever you ask.

Scoffed when he found out you work with Reaper. Literally can't stand him, but also can't destroy him, just cause he's popular 🙄

Is so salty about the fact you hang out with Reaper the most 😂😂

Epic:

Doesn't treat you differently just cause you're a god. Treats you as equals :)

Definitely showed you so many memes about death when you first told him who you are. (He laughed his ass off during it 💀)

Laughed his ass off even more seeing Cross' reaction. Wouldn't stop teasing him after that. Like, you really just ran away bruh?? 😂😂

Enlightened you in the beauty of rubber chicken.

He also flirts with you occasionally, just cause he finds you cute.

He's also the only one that can make you flustered from his flirting, which fuels his ego.

Doesn't even acknowledge the fact that you're working with Reaper. The only thing that matters to him is you bruh. 😏

His pick up lines are actually really good, unlike Killer's 😂

Reaper:

THIS SKELETON IS IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER AND THAT'S. ON. SIGHT!!

Your bond is very strong, cause you know each other for a very long time. It's going to be at least a million years now. 💀

You're not together, but he's oh so romantic and genuine that others would think you two are a thing.

Gives you roses every day, and you keep each and every one of them, safely put.

Loves the fact that he can touch you without killing you. Almost always having an arm around you. (Look, he's just touch starved! He can't touch anyone, so of course he has his needs! 😭)

Cerberus sees you two as basically his parents, his tail starts to wag every time you two are together.

Isn't jealous of anyone that flirts with you, cause he knows that at the end of the day...you go back to him.

The only skeleton that's bothering him is Dust, but that's cause he literally has heart eyes around you 😭😭

I don't write anyone identical to canon! I write everyone how I Hc them, just wanted to clarify this just in case.

Anyways, hope y'all liked this! Thanks for the request! :D

#sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #undertale fandom #cross sans x reader #dust sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #error sans x reader #horror sans x reader #killer sans x reader #reaper sans x reader #reaper sans #epic sans x reader #epic sans

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ultralightpoe · 11 months ago

Text

Full House ll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Went from cute fluff to straight angst. Sorry?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (not Eddie and reader though), angst angst angst. A fight.

Word count: 10,009 (ohhhhhh boy)

Part l HERE

(THANK YOU FOR THE GIF @feodor-dostoevsky)

(Warning. This chapter contains hints of domestic violence and if any of my readers are going through that you deserve better. I love you all, also Motley will be showing signs of abuse this chapter. It's a long chapter that I'm really nervous about and I really hope you guys like it <3)

Enjoy!

Eddie had been in a pissy mood on Halloween morning of his second year as a senior, mostly because his friends that had graduated last year were all going out to awesome college parties and he was stuck redoing school. Embarrassed and alone.

But he sucked it up, wearing his favorite leather jean combo as he walked into the halls of hell, keeping his head down while people passed by him in a flurry, excitement and laughter in the air.

He had planned to just keep his head down and make it to class, no need to get into something with Harrington and his cronies. He had enough of their teasing and bullshit to get him by for the rest of the year.

Normally it was fine since he had friends, but now he was alone.

A body slamming into a locker pulls his attention to where someone in a rustic leather jacket was slamming one of the juniors into the wall of metal. The kid being assaulted was called Jeff, he was the only black kid in the grade and Eddie had seen him around a lot. The kid didn’t hang out with anyone and seemed lonely.

Shit.

The one slamming him was Billy Hargrove, a new kid that seemed to immediately become one of the cool ones. He spent most his classes not caring and any free time harassing everyone else. Eddie had his fair share of issues with him already.

It would be a good idea to just walk away and let them handle this on their own, but Eddie could not do that. If there was one thing his dad taught him it was that he could take a punch and his Uncle Wayne always told him that you should always stand up for the weaker man. Even if Eddie wasn’t strong enough to beat Billy “steroids” Hargrove, he was strong enough to take a hit for someone else.

A sigh falls through him as he makes his way over, tapping the shoulder of the assailant quickly, the second Billy has his eyes on him Eddie shoves him quickly.

Billy reacts in an instant, hands clenching into his jacket, swinging Eddie around until it was his back being slammed into the lockers. A grunt passes his lips as he sends Jeff a quick look to escape while he can, the kid gives him a grateful smile as he snatches his backpack and dashes off.

“If it isn’t the super senior!” Billy laughs bitterly, pulling Eddie forward and shoving him back into the lockers harshly.

Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

“What you doing here bud?! Trying to get your ass-“ Eddie loses some of his patience after the third hit into the lockers and hits Billy’s hands off of him, shoving him back enough that Billy nearly trips over his feet.

Gasps fall from the crowd as Billy glares, staring wide eyed at him as he sneers. Eddie tries to play it cool, the anticipation of a fight howling beneath his skin as he preps himself.

Before they can get into it Steve Harrington pops up, his back to Eddie as he watches Billy. “Not that I don't want to see how the freak handles business but the principal is on the way.”

Billy casts one more glare, walking off quickly as Harrington turns to Eddie.

“You stupid or some-“

“Yeah yeah. We get it Harrington. I’m a repeat senior.” Eddie snaps, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the pain. “Why don’t you find a new joke?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you were good.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before moving to pick up what Eddie had dropped.

“I don’t need help from you.” Eddie snaps, snatching the lunch box he had gotten from Uncle Wayne and walking off quickly.

Eddie had spent the better part of that year dealing with Hargroves shit, the only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Steve Harrington seemed to be having his own issues with Billy. Then the summer between his second senior year and his third Billy Hargrove died.

Eddie had avoided the pool that entire summer but he heard about it from Jeff the day the mall caught on fire. The next thing he knew Max was moving into the trailer near his and Wayne’s and everyone was bothering her and her mother about it all but they seemed like they didn’t want to talk about it.

After he dealt with VECNA they all explained a little about what happened, and when El closed the gates and fixed the time warp she ended up bringing a couple people back. That’s how he came back.

No one had seen Billy, so everyone assumed he didn’t come back. Even Barb had shown back up (though her memory was hazy on everything).

Now, Billy Hargrove stood in the doorway of his home, catching Motley when she ran to him with an easy smile. “There’s my baby!”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, stuck between anger and shock, watching this play out before him as Ziggy grabs at his jaw. The little toddler leans to kiss his cheek, a wet open mouth kiss that normally makes Eddie laugh, but this time he just stands there. Waiting for the “just kidding!” Or someone to pinch him so he can wake up.

“Sugar,” Billy starts, keeping Motley in his arms as he stares at Eddie. It takes him a moment to realize that when he says sugar he is talking to you. “Why is there a drug dealer holding my daughter?”

“I can explain-“ you start, watching Eddie angrily set up the crib in your shared room, jaw tensed and eyes heavy with anger. “Eds please.”

“You don’t need to explain.” He snaps, turning quickly. “No actually. You do. What the fuck?”

“I met him a couple years back. Okay? It was a one night stand from a bar, he was new in town and I ended up getting pregnant. After that he said he wanted to stay together because of the baby and I didn’t want to parent alone so I said yes-“

“So you’d rather have parented with a racist jackass then?” He laughs bitterly. You draw back, eyes wide as he does so before he sees you get defensive.

“I didn’t know about any of that. Okay? He was sweet with me for the most part-“

“For the most part?”

“He had moments of anger, sometimes I got hit. But he always made up for it. And then I got pregnant again and I thought I was happy and then….” You trail off then, shaking a bit. “I left for a reason.”

“He hit you? More than once?” Eddie bites out, hands on his hips.

“It was fine-“

“No no no. It wasn’t fine. But the fact that you’re saying it was fine and you say he made up for it means that you didn’t leave because he hit you, you left for another reason.” He sees you get nervous under his gaze and he knows he’s figuring out. Anger coursed through him at the fact that Billy had ever laid a hand on you in the first place but it’s beginning to reach tenfold when he puts the pieces together. “He hit Motley?”

“I-“

“You were okay with him hitting you, which makes me upset that you thought you deserved that, but the second he hit Motley you ran.” He fills in the blanks, watching as you crumble before his eyes with tears falling freely.

“Ohmygod-“ you sob, covering your eyes.

“And that’s why you’re so weird around Max because when you came out here you recognized her, right? And when we all shared the truth of what happened you recognized Billy in it? And you didn’t say anything because-“

“What was I supposed to say Eddie?! That I was dumb enough to fall for it?! That I slept with a racist abusive asshole one night drunk and then agreed to let him move in with me because I was scared even though I knew nothing about him?!” You snap, tears streaming down your face. “You guys would have thought the worst of me. You guys are going to think the worst of me- maybe I should just grab the girls and go get a hotel-“

“Hey hey hey.” He eases, reaching for you as you stand up to leave. His hands find your hips and he pulls you in for a hug. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry-“

“I’m sorry. I’m over reacting and being a pain in the ass because I’m surprised is all.” He mumbles, kissing your head and keeping his nose pressed into your hair. “You are very brave for leaving him, yeah? And I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, you’re not stupid you were just played. You always think the best of people and you are so fucking brave for getting the girls out of there.”

He lets you sob into his chest for a minute, rubbing your back in comfort as he holds you to him tightly.

Eddie was gonna figure this out. He was gonna find a way to get Billy Hargrove out of his life for good.

The morning was always filled with excitement, mostly on Motley's part. She loved getting ready for the day, for all the things she would do. She loved talking yours and Eddie’s ear off about the plans for the day. Then she would be crankier when she got home and she knew it was time for bed, but Eddie loved her in the mornings because he loved seeing her excitement.

He wore his glasses in the morning, while he helped get them ready for the day since you both liked to tag team the morning and get the process done faster. This morning was his turn for Motley, who currently sat at the table blabbering on about how she was excited for secret santa while Eddie sat at the stove watching the pancakes bubble.

“-and I keep thinking what if Vinny gets me? He will probably get me the dumbest thing ever and I would be so upset. But what if Troy gets me, oh I hope Troy gets my name- Daddy are you listening?”

“I’m listening, pretty girl.” He smiles, looking over her shoulder where she sat coloring. “You hope Troy gets you. Cause you have a big ole crush on him.”

“DO NOT!” She yells which makes him laugh and turn back to the pancakes. Before he knows it he feels a pair of arms wrap around him, with you kissing along his exposed back slowly while ge fights off the blush.

“You cooking bacon without a shirt, handsome?” You smile and he tries not to laugh.

“I can’t feel half the skin on my stomach anyways.” The scars made sure of that. “You want a piece of bacon?”

“I’ll wait to eat with you and the girls. Did we get any yogurt on our last trip to the store?” You ask, moving to the fridge to check. Eddie takes a moment to admire you before looking to where Ziggy sits in her high chair, playing with a piece of paper that Motley gave her.

“Morning metal head.” He coos, walking forward to kiss her head. She giggles and claps before Motley follows what Eddie did, kissing her sisters head.

“Come here Daddy.” She smiles, and he bends down to let her kiss his forehead which makes her laugh.

He sets them both up with plates, eating breakfast quickly before rushing to get a shirt on as you bring them both to the door to get them in shoes. When he gets back he finds Motley with her arms crossed and shaking her head.

“What’s going on?”

“She found out Steve is taking her to school.” You sigh, trying to grab her foot.

“I want Papa to take me. He said he wanted to!” She snaps and Eddie watches you tense up, choosing to intervene here.

“I got this, go grab her bag.” He smiles, switching spots with you. “Alright. No playing around. Metalheads put their shoes on when told.”

“But daddy-“

“Ah.” He holds up a finger and she sighs before grabbing the left shoe and moving to put it on her right. “Wait. This is a good time to teach you left from right.”

“I’ve got time.” She smiles , watching him.

“Alright. This is left,” he holds out his left hand, the metal bracelet he always wears drawing Ziggys attention as she waddles closer.

Motley holds out her right hand, repeating “left.”

“No. That’s right.”

“I’m right?”

“No. That hand is right.”

“Yeah daddy. I know I’m right.” She scoffs, staring at him like he’s insane.

“No pretty girl. You’re opposite of me, like a mirror. So if this is my left hand you’re left hand would be….” He picks up her left hand, wiggling it a bit.

“Oh. So this would be my right hand.” She mumbles, shaking her right hand.

“Exactly. So if this is your left shoe it would go on…..”

“MY LEFT FOOT!” She yells excitedly which makes him smile.

“You got it! You rockstar!” He helps her tie it, letting her rest her foot on his thigh before switching the feet and tying the next shoe.

“We ready to go?” You ask, coming around the corner and smiling.

“Daddy taught me my left from right, Mommy!” She giggles, rushing to get her bag and holding your hand as you lead her out of the house with Eddie close behind, Ziggy in his arms trying to reach for the bandana on his head.

“Hey Uncle Steve,” she calls, running up to him to hug him. “I know my left from right!”

“You’re a genius kid!” He smiles. You pull her attention, kissing her forehead before kissing Steve’s cheek. Eddie follows, kissing Motley then snatching Steve and kissing his cheek which makes everyone laugh. Ziggy coos the second she sees Steve and he instantly makes grabby hands at her.

“There she is, my pretty little angel.” He coos, bouncing her up and down as Motley climbs in his car between his two sons. Vinny glares while Jackson waves his grubby little hands. The kid was four and thought the best thing to eat was a crayon.

“You know what gender the baby is yet?” You ask, watching Steve with Ziggy.

“No. But Nancy is sure it’s another boy.” He sighs out. “And she wants to name one after her brother.”

“Do we need another Mike?” Eddie laughs which makes Steve laugh as well.

“That’s what I said!”

“Alright, I have to head off. Drop Ziggy off at daycare before work. Have a wonderful day boys.” You smile, grabbing Ziggy from Steve who sighs in disappointment, before kissing Eddie and heading off to your car.

Steve turns to Eddie, a raised brow, he opens his mouth to start asking but Eddie holds up a hand. “Nuh uh. We don’t talk about within hearing age of Motley.”

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, squinting. “She get upset?”

“The opposite.”

“But the guys a massive dick!”

“And that’s her dad.”

“You’re her dad.”

“No, I’m the step dad.” Eddie sighs, something clenching in his gut. “I gotta get going. Thanks for dropping Motty off.”

The thought that he was just the step dad stuck, it clung to him like a second skin, sticking like a shadow over the sun. He thought about it while he tucked the girls in, and when he woke them up. He worried over the thought of Billy fighting for custody and turning the girls against Eddie.

He was just the step-dad.

This is what he was thinking about as he changed the oil on one of the cars in the shop, a frown stuck to his face as music played in the background. It was Dylans, the other repairman that worked today, turn for the stereo and he was playing all the rock hits. Which included ‘rock you like a hurricane.’

And all Eddie could imagine was his girls having a dance party but instead of him being there it was Billy. Billy dancing with them to all the music and-

“HI DADDY!” Motley shouts, making Eddie gasp in shock, whipping his head to find her on all fours so she could see him under the car.

“Hi pretty girl.” He smiles, using the cart to roll out from under the car and sit up, whipping the bandana off his hair as she whirls around the car to attack him, roaring like a tiger as she jumps on him. “What are you doing here?”

“School let out early today, they have their christmas party tomorrow and then winter break.” You explain, walking around the car with Ziggy on your hip, still wearing the cute diner uniform. “Motley wanted to come grab you for lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, laughing when she slips a bit and he has to catch her before she hits the floor. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?!” He acts shocked, eyes wide as she begins laughing. “Well I don’t know about that…. I don’t really know if I like pizza.”

“You LOVE pizza.” She scoffs, jumping up and dashing to the radio to turn it down. “Does Dylan want pizza?”

“Why thank you for asking little lady.” Dylan smiles, wiping his hands on his suit. “I love pizza.”

“Hear that daddy? We have to go get pizza for Dylan.” Motley sasses, coming back over to snatch Eddie’s bigger hand between her own. “Get uppppp!”

She groans as she tries to lift him, and Eddie picks himself up so she thinks she was able to do it. “Jesus you are strong.”

“I pulled a secret santa today, and you’ll never guess who I got!”

“Troy?”

“No.” She sighs, disappointed for just a moment before her face lights up again. “I got Samantha, she likes jump rope.”

“Yeah? Is that what we are gonna get her then?” He chuckles, moving to wash his hands as you go and put Ziggy in the car.

“Well I don’t know. I don’t want my gift to be too basic and not surprising. But I want to make sure she actually likes it. And do you think-” Eddie lets her ramble, grabbing her hand and leading her to the car as she goes on and on about the ideas she has for gifts.

The store was busy when Eddie took Motley Christmas shopping, holding her hand in his own as walked across the street and headed into the warmth. He had been more focused on making sure she wore a coat then grabbing a coat heavy enough for himself.

The second she is in the store her eyes widen and she makes a mad dash to the kids aisle, Eddie right behind her trying to slow her down a bit.

“Alright, take a look and see what you might like to get Samantha.” He huffs, breathing into his palms to warm up his face, ignoring the weird look he gets from a do-good mom passing by in her expensive shoes.

He had gotten used to the looks by now, it’s not like he screamed father with his leather jacket and tattoos, but you always told him that he was a better father than any country club dad you had ever met. And he was constantly lecturing Motley that ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’ so how would this be different?

“How about this?” She asks, picking up a barbie car that makes Eddie’s eyes go wide.

“Isn’t there a price limit on this thing?” He blurts, moving to check before she is completely gone and looking at something else.

“Can I get a dollhouse?”

“For Samantha?”

“No, for me silly..” She laughs, like it was the most obvious thing.

“We are supposed to be shopping for your secret santa cheeseball.”

“Oh, right.” She sighs, moving back to the barbies. “How about for christmas?”

“Have you asked Santa?” Eddie smiles, and she shakes her head. “We’ll write a letter tonight, then.”

“Okay.” She giggles before pointing to a ken doll. “Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Santa already answered my wish this year.” She mumbles which makes Eddie look at her curiously. “Last year I asked Santa to bring my dad back. And he did even better.”

Eddie’s heart practically shatters as he tries to smile at her, the vast empty feeling at her words killing him. Of course, what little girl didn’t want her dad on christmas, and she wanted Billy.

Steve was suspicious of him the entire Christmas party, giving Eddie the side eye every chance he could while you sat not far off with Nancy gossiping amongst yourselves.

Steve was room mother, and as much as Eddie made fun of him for it his friend was an amazing room mother. He had thrown the class’ holiday party at his house rather than that stuffy classroom so that the parents could come as well. His house, which was already insanely decorated for Christmas, had tons of ‘activity stations’ for the kids to do. Motley and Vinny were currently arguing over what color gumdrops they wanted to put on their gingerbread house.

Charles, Samantha's dad as Eddie found out, had wavered off after talking to Steve and himself for the past hour and finally the two men were left alone. “Who knew parenthood would be just like highschool again?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve snickers. “I feel like-”

“King Steve again?” Eddie taunts, shaking his head.

“Oh no no. You can’t make fun of me since you’re apart of the cool kid club this round.”

“No I’m not-”

“Oh yes you are. Please, everyone talks about you and Y/n. One, all the moms think you are attractive and so gentleman like for taking on the girls. Two. The dads are jealous of you cause you have this cool rock thing going on while still being a parent. Three, everyone loves Motley. She is the class princess. Everyone wants to play with her at christmas, if she shows up to their birthday party then their year is made. Admit it Munson, you’re raising a prom queen.”

“I don’t think I have much to do on that front, and it’s more to do with I’m your friend and you are the Room Mom.”

“Shh not so loud.” Steve mutters. “Nancy has been feeling a little guilty about being ‘less of a mom’ cause she spends all day at work. I tried telling her it was fine but she thinks it’s a bad look that her husband is room mom and not the actual mom.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad look. I think it shows that Vinny is being raised by two people who understand life a little better than other stuck up parents.”

“Thanks pal.” Steve sighs, leading them away so Eddie can go up and check on where they put Ziggy to nap. Steve had been nice enough to set up a little crib in his room so she wouldn’t have to be dragged around the party.

They catch up on everything, Steve complains that he think Jaxon might just be a freaky kid considering the amount of crayons and pencils he eats and how Nancy babies him. He complains that Mike is the worst uncle and never actually helps but always claims to do so.

Eddie catches Steve up on the Billy situation, which had shocked the group to no end.

“He’s been calling everyday, arguing that he should get visitation.” Eddie sighs, taking a swig from the beer Steve smuggled for them.

“That’s bullshit. Tell him no.”

“Y/n is worried that he could fight and get full custody.”

“Why on earth-”

“Because she took the girls and ran. She did it for their safety but the court will never look at it like that.” Eddie sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “All they will see is Hawkins very own mall hero being abandoned as she runs to Hawkins very own freak.”

“Motley and Y/n don’t think of you as a freak.”

“Maybe not. But Motley adores Billy, and that leaves me on the sidelines.”

“That’s not fair.” Steve sighs but Eddie shrugs.

“You know how long I hated Wayne for taking me from my dad? That man hit me and all I did for years was look up to him and try to be better. I pushed away anyone that actually cared. I know what she is going through right now, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that love she has for her dad. Shit person or not.”

“Would you rather ruin her dad for her or have her heart broken when she is exposed to him on her own?”

“I think if he ever hurt her I would actually-”

“Kill him. I’m so in.” Steve finishes the sentence before there is a quick knock on the door.

“Dad!” Vinny whines. “Where’s the gift?! We are doing secret santa!”

Steve sighs, moving to his dresser to grab the wrapped gift before handing it to his son. Eddie waits to follow Vinny, surprised when he turns to him rather than immediately running away.

“Will Motley like this wrapping paper?”

“Yeah? I think she’d love it.” Eddie smiles, watching in shock as the kids dashes out. “He got Motley? Bet he hated that.”

“Nah, he was worried she might now like the barbie car.”

“Wasn’t there a price limit on this thing?” Eddie asks, raising a brow.

“My kid is head over heels for your daughter Munson. Just be happy Troy didn’t get her. Little punk thinks he’s everything.” Steve scoffs, walking past Eddie and mumbling under his breath about Troy being a little shit.

There was a new form of hell to Eddie, not having his girls under the same roof was that hell. After a very long argument it was agreed that Billy would get them for the night, they would have a fun time at the shitty motel room.

So, after a long night of pacing back and forth, Billy finally dropped the girls off around noon, smoking easily as he carried Ziggy’s car seat in one hand.

“Really? Right by her?” Eddie snaps, grabbing the handle carefully as Ziggy coos up at him.

“Didn’t think you would be one to care, Munson.” Billy laughs, looking past him to where Motley stood with a grumpy look and her bag around her shoulder. “You used to make sure our class was coked out just fine.”

“Motty go inside.” Eddie sighs, moving to open the door for her, getting a little nervous when she glares and stomps in. “Has she eaten?”

Only when he turns back to ask Billy the jackass is already halfway in his car, sending a cocky smile in Eddie’s direction as he turns the speaker up loud.

Now left alone with the two girls since you were at work Eddie shuffles inside to go find where Motley stomped off to, finding her in her room sitting on the floor and playing with a toy he didn’t recognize.

“New barbie?” He smiles, watching her carefully. This was the first time she had ever gone with her dad and he didn't know what to expect, maybe he had been hoping for a hug or kiss. “She’s very pretty-”

“Papa got her for me.” She bites out, voice dripping with attitude.

“Okay. You hungry? I can make you-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screams, rushing to slam her door in his face, the tiffany poster she had on it staring back at him as he blinks in shock. There had been fits, a couple of screaming fits, she sometimes called him meanie head when he told her not to do something. But she had never before slammed a door in his face.

Not really knowing what to do he decided to focus on bathing Ziggy first, making sure the smoke scent didn’t cling to her before setting her up to eat something.

A couple hours later you came home, a nervous smile on your face as you looked at him only to realize he was upset.

“What happened?”

“She’s upset, won’t come out of her room.” He sighs.

“Let me go check on her.” You mumble, kissing him before heading to her room and knocking softly. “Hey bugs? Why don’t you come out and say hi? Daddy can make something for dinner-“

“Eddie can fuck off!” She screams, which makes you freeze as Eddie’s heart drops and he leans his forehead on the wall.

“Motley Marie-“

“NO!” She screams from the other side of the door and Eddie feels like he might throw up.

“Maybe I should go to Wayne’s tonight?” He offers, shaking a bit as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I need to help him fix the replace his fridge anyways”

“Eds, no.” You mumble, tears welling up in your eyes as you shuffle closer. “She’ll be fine in a bit. We just need to get her to eat and-“

“She’s not gonna come out to eat if I’m here. I’ll come back tomorrow to see if she’s feeling better. Okay?” He tries, rubbing your arms in a comforting manner. “Just one night, maybe she will eat and calm down”

You shake your head, crying, but you both already know the answer. And Eddie already knows this might not work out for him.

After packing an overnight bag and heading off he makes it to his Uncle Wayne’s and spends the night there, hoping Motley would feel better if he wasn’t there.

He helps Wayne sort out the kitchen, both of them planning on switching the fridges out in the morning now that his is empty. So, later in the night, Eddie lays on the couch staring at the ceiling.

He couldn’t fall asleep without you beside him and he’s used to seeing the hall light under the door so the girls could see if they needed to get to the bathroom or your room.

He tossed and turned, doing his best not to get too upset at all of it before he began thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

He never wanted to hurt the girls, and as much as he loved them and loved you there was always that thing about “if you love someone set them free.” So, as much as he hated it, he figured maybe it was time for some breathing space. Let Motley learn about her biological dad for a bit, and he would take whatever he could get even if it was just a dinner a month. Anything to make sure she didn’t hate him forever.

So, around 6am, when he finally managed to close his eyes and get some sleep he had decided that the best plan of action was to give his girls breathing room.

When he woke up Wayne was already starting on the fridge, which made Eddie realize just how much he had slept in. Jumping up quickly to start helping, he didn’t think to call you.

They spent the next few hours moving the fridges and getting the new one set up, making sure everything was working before hauling the old one to the junkyard. By the time they were done the sun was going down and Eddie was starving so Wayne offered to order a pizza.

The only problem was your car was at the trailer when they got back, with you sitting on the hood smiling at him as Wayne pulled his truck up to park.

“Hi Grandpa Wayne.” You called which made the older man smile and hop out quickly to give you a kiss before moving to say hi to the girls in the back seat.

Eddie moves to hug you, kissing you deeply before you pull back and smile. “You didn’t call, and we called this morning but no answer so I figured you boys were busy.”

“Sorry. I slept a little late and we were fighting that damn fridge all day.” He smiles.

“We were thinking about going and getting dinner tonight, thought we’d come pick up daddy.” You offer, holding his hand. He casts a quick look to where Motley is sitting in the backseat, laughing as Wayne pretends to steal her book.

Breathing room.

“I actually got more stuff to help Wayne with. That okay?” He could see you visibly deplete, trying your best to keep smiling.

“Of course that’s okay. Just don’t forget to call okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You wanna say bye to the girls?”

“I….Not tonight.” He feels like he’s stabbed himself in the gut and twisted the knife, his throat tightening up with the urge to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mumble. “And you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Right.” He smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek. When you kiss him one last time you move to Wayne, tearing up a bit.

“Enjoy your handyman Wayne. But I expect him back tomorrow by dinner, got it grandpa?”

Wayne, to his credit, smiles politely and nods. Mumbling something about making Eddie work overtime as you laugh, he hears Ziggy blubber sadly, probably upset that she’s in her car seat.

He spots Motley when you open your door to get in, leaning against the window already staring at him. There is a glum look on her expression and Eddie feels that stab wound tighten. She hates him, she can’t even smile when she sees him anymore. Billy must have told her what a fuckimg freak he was.

Instead of crawling into the hole he wants to, he merely raises a hand slowly to wave, attempting to seem like everything was fine.

She raised her own hand, and Eddie thinks he’s mistaken when she presses it to the glass of the window as you drive off.

“You okay?” Wayne asks, rubbing his boys shoulder.

“Not really.”

True to his word Eddie calls the next morning, only to be surprised when he hears Motleys voice answer.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Hey Mot…ley.” Eddie panics , thinking that she might now like her nicknames now. “I called for your ma.”

“Oh.” She mumbles, obviously disappointed that it was him. “I can go get her……”

“Not if she’s busy, okay? I can call back later.” He hears her set the phone down and scamper off, feet hitting the hardwood of the kitchen as she rushes to find you. A couple minutes goes by and he hears both your voices trickle back into hearing distance, probably from the downstairs hallway.

“- dy Eddie. He just wanted to talk to you.” He hears Motley mumble, and that shooting pain was back. Eddie. She called him Eddie again.

Panic claws at him as he hears your footsteps get closer and he hangs up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes.

After helping Wayne around the trailer he returns that evening, feeling lame and tired. Kicking his shoes off in the doorway, hearing your music downstairs which tells him you had probably started reading once putting the girls to bed.

He planned to shower and then go see you, so he makes his way to the room, shucking his jacket off and tossing it on the bed in the dark.

“Heyyy.” Someone whines, making him stop and look to the bed to see Motley climbing out from the blankets and pillows, eyes wide. “Watch it.”

“Sorry kid,” he smiles, moving to grab the jacket. “Didn’t see ya there.”

She giggles softly, moving to the middle of the bed and turning on the light before going back to her spot. He gives her a soft smile before moving to grab clothes and heading to the master bathroom only for her to call out.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, turning with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry I was mean and hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I made you mad.” Tears well in her eyes as she says it which makes his chest clench.

“Hey hey. I’m not mad.” He says softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she immediately crawls over and crawls into his lap.

“You are! That’s why you didn’t want to come home!” She cries. “You hate me now.”

“No no. Take a breath.” He tries to calm her down, rubbing her back in soft circles as she sucks in a deep breath.

“I made you mad…”

“You didn’t make me mad, I just had to help Grandpa Wayne with some stuff. He’s old now. He needs help.” Eddie offers, still rubbing her back. She calms down a bit, face pressed into his chest as she slowly puts herself back to sleep.

He carries her into her own room, making sure she’s nice and comfortable when he tucks her in before going back to the master bedroom to shower.

When he comes back out he finds you waiting on the bed, a smile smile tugging st your lips. “Hey stud.”

“Hi baby,” he whispers, moving to lay down. He gives you one kiss before laying down and shoving his face into the pillow quickly, desperate to sleep.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask, rubbing a hand on his back.

“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine. Just wanted to give her space is all.” He sighs.

“She loves you Eddie.”

“I know.” He lies, closing his eyes to sleep

Motley spent the next day at the Harrington household while Eddie and you went to shop for some last minute gifts you hadn’t gotten at the beginning of the month.

With Christmas being only a week away now you were beginning to panic and Eddie was doing his best to ease your anxieties as you tried to think of what the girls would want.

“I think we got everything.” You sigh out when you make it to the car, Eddie pushing the cart filled to the brim with bags as he rubs your back. There was something off about you today and he felt guilty that he hadn’t come home until late last night.

“I think we did.” He moves away only to open the back of the van, beginning to pile all the bags in before he hears you gag and dash to the chunk of grass he parked near.

“Shit- “ he snaps, tripping over himself as he tries to get to you to hold your hair. “You okay? Nervous about Christmas?”

“Y-yeah…” you whine, rubbing the back of your hand under your nose to wipe the snot after you finish puking. “Over stressed myself is all.”

He sighs, helping you up and getting you set up in the van before moving to finish his original task.

He spends the rest of the day making sure you’re okay and wrapping the gifts. He tries to change his handwriting on the tags so Motley would think other people were signing them. Make her think she got a gift from Santa and the elves and one from Mrs. Claus before he took his coffee grounds and make a hoof print on the gift he had made from Rudolph.

He hides them all in the basements laundry room, moving to wake you up when he’s done.

Two days before Christmas Eve Motley and Ziggy go with Billy again, and Eddie makes himself scarce when they are dropped back off the next day, wanting to give Motley room to breathe in case she needs it.

He hides in the basement, keeping his headphones in as he practices guitar, hearing the echo of stomping around upstairs. She had come home in another mood, that much he had figured out by the sounds of her yelling when she came in.

The phone rings in the distance and Eddie ignores everything as he practices more riffs until your in front of him with a small smile. “That was Gareth. They wanted to rehearse? Asked if you could head over.”

“Oh?” He asks, standing up. The perfect excuse to give Motley some space without hurting anyone’s feelings had just arrived and he was gonna take it. “I’ll head over now.”

“Are you gonna be home for dinner?” You ask softly, face tense with worry and exhaustion.

“We’ll probably practice too late.” He sighs, kissing you before moving to walk away.

“Eds?” You call, making him look back at you as you stress. “Y-you’re okay…… right?”

“I’m okay.” He lies. Really he feels pathetic, useless, a lame ass excuse for a stepdad. ……he feels like his father.

She just needs space. He thinks to himself, smiling at you. But deep down he already knows it’s not working. He loves his girls but if they don’t love him back then he is just dragging them down.

And his heart breaks at the thought of the inevitable.

I don’t wanna say bye.

As he passes the hallway to pack clothes for the night he sees that the Tiffany poster on Motleys door had been ripped down the middle, and he risks a peek in to find it the missing piece wadded in the trash along with her fleetwood poster she got around thanksgiving.

Sighing in defeat he shuffles to grab his bag and head out.

The morning of Christmas Eve he wakes up to find that sometime in the night Motley had crawled into bed with you and Eddie, curled up between you two with tear streaks down her face.

Nightmares, nasty little things.

He kisses her cheek lightly before getting up to get ready for work. By the time he is putting on his boots he finds her yawning and sitting up.

“Are you leaving?”

“Only for a bit.” He tries to sound positive. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Swear it?” She asks, eyes wide.

“Triple swear it.” He smiles back, and something eases in him when a smile breaks out across her face, going from ear to ear.

So he leans to kiss her cheek, taking the good mood while he can before heading to work and coming back home by 5. Only to find Billy’s Camaro in the driveway when he does come home.

Walking into the house, tense and tired from the day, to find Billy sitting on the couch as you work in the kitchen. You send him a quick look and Eddie follows, rushing into the kitchen with you.

“He invited himself for dinner.” You whisper.

“Why?”

“Because Motley told me I couldn’t come for Christmas morning.” Billy snaps from the doorway, leaning on it like he owned the place. “Which is really fucking weird considering that I’m her dad. I should be able to see her on Christmas. And I can only assume that you’re the one saying no Munson.”

“Hadn’t even known that we had that discussion but sure. I’ll take the hit.” Eddie smiles. “Cause you are 1000% banned from this house on Christmas Day.”

“You can’t separate me from my kids.” Billy snaps.

“We’re not. You can have dinner with us tonight, but you can’t be here tomorrow.” There were far too many people coming tomorrow that Eddie did not want having to deal with Billy, and he didn’t want your day being ruined by this asshat.

“I’d prefer the dinner to be a family occasion” Billy snipes. “And last I checked you weren’t.”

“Eddie is family.” You snipe back, backing up when Billy glared at you. “This is our home. His home. He stays.”

And before he knew it everyone was seated at the table, in the most uncomfortable dinner of his life. You were just pushing food around your plate, while Eddie was doing his best to stay cool.

“How are your grades Motley?” Billy asks, turning a heavy look to her.

“I’m one of the top in my class-“

“One of?” Billy interrupts.

“They have top three. They all tie in that spot so the kids don’t lose self esteem in the competition.” Eddie explains, tapping a ring on the table in annoyance.

“That’s bullshit. If her grades are the best then that needs to be said-“

“She’s doing fine. Her grades will help win a pizza party at the end of the year.” You snap, rubbing her cheek.

“I just want to make sure I’m not raising a retard that turns into a super senior.”

“What’s that mean?” Motley asks, wide eyed as Ziggy shoves some spaghetti in her mouth.

“Oh baby, it’s noth-“ you begin but Eddie cuts you off, looking her gently.

“It means I wasn’t good in school. I got held back from graduating for three years. That’s right. I was held back another year after you…. Well you know.”

“You got something to say to me, jackass?”

“Not really.” Eddie snipes, picking up his plate and heading to the kitchen before he loses his temper. Lucky him that Billy was set to follow.

“So this is where Motley gets all that attitude huh?! Some shit for brain pathetic piece of shit starts raising my daughter, showing her shit music and telling her the world is all rainbows and sunshine. Right?!”

“We’ll she’s 7. The world is supposed to be a little brighter-“ Eddie starts, watching as Billy grabs the front of his jacket and shoves him into the cabinets behind him.

“You think you’re something, huh?! Well you’re nothing more than a trailer trash piece of shit!” Billy yells in his face, and Eddie remains bland. Not letting any motion on his face as he shrugs.

Motley was going to hate him.

This would never work because your kids needed to come first, and Eddie knew that. He would always put them first. If he stayed with you Motley would soon begin to resent you.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“No. I don’t think I’m anything more than a piece of shit. I’m quite good in that life.” He shrugs. “And it’s not shit music that she was listening to, it was her choice of music. Music she liked, and if she likes it then it’s not shit.”

Billy laughs bitterly, then Eddie can do nothing but watch his hand pull back into a fist, getting him right in the face.

Pain shoots through his face as his head hits the cupboard behind him hearing the wood crack at the impact. Motley screams out loud “DADDY!” And Eddie assumes she’s screaming for Billy to stop.

He didn’t want to hit her dad in front of her, so he took it. Punch after punch from Billy before you jump on the man’s back, hitting him to get him off Eddie.

Billy pushes you off quickly, making you tumble to the floor as Motley runs for you before you try and ease her back. Eddie can’t feel his face but he knows it’s swollen and bloody, spitting out the taste of iron as he swipes a hand under his nose, pain shooting through him when he does so.

Motley is still screaming, over and over “DADDY DADDY!” And when Billy takes one aggressive step over to where she is in your arms Eddie finally loses it.

He shoves at Billy’s back, drawing his attention back and taking one quick swing across Billy’s cheek. One of his rings slices his cheek as Billy’s head whips to the side. But Eddie doesn’t stop, too built up on protective rage.

Ziggy is screaming in the background, Motley crying for her dad while you hold her back. Eddie takes a couple more hits, pushing Billy to the door so they wouldn’t have an audience. Only problem is the second Eddie pushes Billy out he finds a cop car already waiting, the cop hopping out and rushing to the scene.

Christmas morning was spent inside a jail cell with a broken nose, Eddie laying on one of the benches staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about how much his face hurt right now.

One of the neighbors had heard yelling and called the cops, who had taken 15 minutes to respond. And since Eddie didn’t start hitting back until the end he could only assume that meant he had taken nearly 15 minutes of that beating.

What a fucking coward.

He had hit Billy in front of Motley. Oh my god her entire Christmas would be ruined right now. He was an absolute piece of shit.

“Hey kid?” Someone calls, making Eddie try to open his unswollen eye and see. Hopper stood there in mundane clothes, sighing in disappointment. “Thought we agreed last time I arrested you that it would be the last time.”

“What can I say?” He croaks out, dropping his head again. “I’m trailer trash. Always have been and always will be.”

“Come on pity party.” Hopper sighs, unlocking the door. “You’ve been cleared. Witness statements.”

So they had questioned you. Fuck.

When he grabs his rings and jacket from the clerk he doesn’t bother putting them on, keeping everything in the bag including his chain and wallet. He puts the shoes on, groaning in pain when he bends over, before moving to see that Wayne had come to pick him up.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie grunts, not bothering to smile due to the cut on his lip and cheek.

Wayne doesn’t say anything, merely leads Eddie out, keeping a hand on his arm to help lead him to the car since he can only open one eye.

When they are both jn Wayne lights a cigarette, handing it to his nephew. “Have some before we get there. Relax you a bit.”

“Get where?”

“Your house? It’s Christmas? We agreed I’d bring gifts for the girls and get a nice meal?” Wayne asks.

“No. I’m not going there. Not like this and not after that.” Eddie snaps, tears falling from his eye as he thinks about it. That would just ruin Motleys Christmas even more. He couldn’t do that.

“I just wanna sleep.”

“Edward Wayne Munson.”

“Wayne John Munson.”

The sigh that falls from his uncles lips tells Eddie that he won.

(A POV from you? Gasp!)

After watching Eddie and Billy both get arrested you had to give a statement to the police, not like you could actually get a word out considering you were sobbing.

Eddie was bleeding profusely and could barely open his eye when they dragged him to the car, Motley sobbing at your hip as they did so. The officer talking to you tried to calm you down, rubbing your back in a soothing motion that didn’t work and only stressed you out more. You begged them to let Eddie go but the officer said it was protocol and that you should call in the morning to give your statement.

But you didn’t. You sat there with that cop until you calmed down and gave a proper statement, he said he would write a report and get it all sorted so you took Motley in. Getting both girls showered and ready for bed. After tucking them in, still crying, you found yourself moving to the kitchen to clean up the mess. Starting with the the broken glass that had fallen, then the dishes before you moved to scrub the floor, crying harder when you had to scrub Eddie’s blood.

At some point Motley came out, rushing into your arms to keep sobbing so you took her back to yours and Eddie’s room to try and get her to sleep there. You put her in one of Eddie’s sweatshirts before laying with her and trying to calm her down.

“He hurt daddy.” She sobs.

“Honey, Eddie was just trying to-“

“No. Billy hurt Daddy.” She explains. “It’s my fault. I told him he couldn’t come over on Christmas!”

There it was. You had wondered since Billy brought it up, you hadn’t said anything and Eddie hadn’t. So why had Motley?

“Why would you do that Motley? That was an adult decision that you should have let me tell him. I don’t want you getting in trouble because-“

“He’s mean to daddy, I didn’t want him bullying daddy! Okay?!” She cries, swiping her cheeks. “But now Daddy hates me! He hates me mama!”

“No. He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate you, okay?”

“He does!”

It took all but 30 minutes to lure Motley out of room after Eddie left for Wayne’s, promising her some chicken nuggets for dinner and that was it.

She ate silently with you before bath time, then when you sat with her on the couch before her bedtime while Ziggy slept in her crib, you noticed her watching the door every 2 minutes.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, smoothing out her still damp hair.

“Is daddy Eddie coming back for bedtime?” She asks, scratching her arm. “He always lays with me.”

“He’s gonna be at Grandpa Wayne’s tonight. Helping him out with something. We will see him tomorrow, okay metalhead?”

“Okay.”

Only when you called the next morning there was no answer, Motley getting dressed beside you with a look of excitement on her face as it rang.

“Is he there? Ask him when he’ll be home!”

“He didn’t pick up ,baby, I’m sure they are busy. We will see him later okay? Maybe we can have dinner at the diner.”

And that’s what she talked about for the rest of the day, you tried asking about her time at Billy’s but she simply shut the conversation down. By the time dinner time came about she was upset that Eddie hadn’t come back so you offered to go to Grandpa Wayne’s and pick them up.

You had been there for about 5 minutes when the van pulled up and you could hear the gasps of excitement from Motley when Eddie hops out.

Inviting him to dinner, only for Eddie to be nervous and say no. He looked upset, and you were beginning to panic deep down.

Please don’t leave us. I love you. You wanted to say but you were pretty sure that would scare him off more.

Who wanted the mother of two with the racist abusive ex? Right?

When you drove off without him Motley was just as upset. “Why didn’t he come mama?”

“He had some more stuff to help with.” You answer, smiling at her through the mirror.

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He’s just not feeling good.” Lie lie lie.

The next day you were doing laundry while Motley was dashing around upstairs and Ziggy was waddling around you.

The sound of the phone ringing didn’t draw your attention since you were too busy trying to kick the washing machine into working. But when your daughter dashed down the stairs you looked at her.

“PHONE!”

“Who is it?” You ask, laughing at her excitement as you snatch Ziggy up and follow her up the stairs.

“Daddy Eddie. He just wants to talk to you though.” And you found yourself rushing to the phone, only when you got there it was just the dial tone.

“Is he coming home? Can I do his hair when he gets back?” She asks hopefully.

“Maybe later.”

By the time you realized he was back Motley was on her own bed and the shower to your shared bathroom was running so you laid on the bed waiting for him to come out.

When he did your heart beat out of your chest, nervous and in love.

He laid down, face in the pillow as you let him know Motley loved him.

All he could say was “I know” before falling asleep and you were heartbroken.

He’s gonna leave.

Two days before Christmas Eve when Motley is dropped off from Billys he doesn’t say a word, merely tosses her bag at you as he slams his car door and drives off.

Motley storms past you, pushing into the door as you carry Ziggy in, watching her in shock. “I HATE HIM AND I HATE YOU!”

Eddie, who had been waiting in the kitchen, sulks downstairs to give her space and you feel a twist in your gut. “That’s not fair to Eddie, Mot.”

“I’m not talking about Eddie. I’m talking about HIM!” She screams, stomping to her room and ripping the poster from her door.

“Hey!” You snap, following her and trying to get her to stop as she tears down the Elvis and Fleetwood Mac poster.

“I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM! It’s bullshit!” She screams, slamming the door. Only she slams it so hard it creaks open a little. Before you could make it worse the phone rings and you find yourself heading downstairs to tell Eddie about the call.

The excitement on his face breaks your heart as you realize he is so desperate to get away from you. Jesus you trapped him didn’t you?

By the time Motley comes out of her room she looks around for a minute, sitting at the table. “Where’s daddy?”

“Band practice.” You smile.

“When will he be back?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just eat.” You felt bad about the short answer. But you were upset about the way she was acting and you were upset that she said she hated you. Not to mention the way she ripped the posters and the way Eddie seemed to run from you.

You already dragged her away from Billy once, now she was going to lose another father because of your mess. You were a terrible mother.

She hates me , and so does Eddie.

“He will be here, okay? Daddy would never miss Christmas.” You smile, crying softly yourself. “Just wait and see. Daddy will be home.”

She calmed down a bit at your promise, laying beside you.

“I asked santa for dad back last year….” She mumbles. “And he gave me an even better one.”

“Yeah, he did.”

You don’t get a lick of sleep, waiting all night for the sound of the door to open. They had to have released Eddie, right?

You overthink it all as you sneak all the gifts out to the tree, ones that Eddie wrapped while you were sick and see all the dedication he put into them which just makes your heart melt more.

When the sun starts coming up you realize that maybe no officers were there to release him and they would in the morning during normal processing hours so you focus on starting the meal and getting the girls ready.

Motley refuses to go near her presents, choosing to wait for Eddie. You’re okay with it, letting Ziggy open a gift since you know it will take her forever.

You focus on cooking while Motley waits on the couch watching out the window.

But then people start showing up for the early dinner and you begin to let that panic sink in. Steve shows up, his two sons dashing for Motley as Nancy waddles in behind them. They thought three dishes that they add to the table. Steve asks about the broken cabinet but before you explain Lucas and Mike show up with their own dishes.

One after one they all show up and sook enough you break from the crowd to go in your room and call the station.

“I’m looking for Edward Munson? He should have been released by now but-“

“He was released two hours ago.” The kid on the phone sighs. “Anything else.”

You don’t respond, choosing to hang out and close your door so your guests don’t see you cry.

He wasn’t coming, you had messed everything up like usual. God you were pathetic.

Just as Billy would say, useless as hell.

Shuffling to the bathroom to try and catch your breath, turning on the water and sitting under it as you try to ease the panic attack.

The pink pregnancy test box stares back at you from the trash bin, the actual test on the counter where you had planned to surprise Eddie.

God I can’t do anything right.

Part lll HERE

(OHHHH I really hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Please please please no hate on it! If you want to see something specific such as a blurb or scene with Eddie and the girls feel free to request. -Ultralight)

Taglist::: (Let me know if you want removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel @mariamayhemrsmunson @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @scout141 @thehuntresswolf @natie335 @alyisdead @animechick555 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @mysticpeachobject @jackiosstuff @slytherinroyalty16

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literallythegrabber · 9 months ago

Note

TBP characters x somehow famous reader ? ( It's up to you how ) thank you for reading my request 👍

so I wasn't sure whether or not you wanted the cast or the characters themselves, so I just went with cast because it made more sense.

If you wanted characters I can redo it! 💗💗 (this looks way longer than it actually is btw)

Mason

he definitely stalks you

like not in a creepy way, he's just always on your social platforms, literally waiting for you to post.

he's totally your biggest fan, and will literally attempt to fight all of your haters.

Before your relationship, I feel like he was very nervous to talk to you.

Like if you two were ever at a screening together, or a fancy event back when TBP was popular, this man would legit stare you down from across the room. Then proceed to duck under a table if you catch him staring.

But during your relationship he would be way more relaxed and confident.

He would be chill about pda and taking you on dates in public, but your fanbase would be doing cartwheels, cause everybody ships yall.

Miguel

He's so obvious about his crush on you that it's hilarious.

If you seen those lives where he's just reading comments, then one mentions your name. He's gonna ramble on about you for the rest of the live.

WILL NOT SHUT UP ABOUT YOU, and his friends are tired of it tbh.

bro literally forgets he's famous too and turns into the ultimate fangirl.

But during your relationship he's so sweet.

Always wanting to hangout with you, taking you out in public almost every day.

If yall ever broke up, yalls fans would explode.

They be acting like yalls children with how lovey dovey yall are.

Brady

I feel like he'd try to hide it.

Like he's not in denial, but he don't want nobody knowing about his crush on you.

"conceal, don't let it feel" he's literally elsa.

He kinda keeps to himself around you, in public and all that.

He wouldn't want to overwhelm you, especially with how the media reacts when two popular human beings get together.

So you'd def have to approach him and ask for a date.

During your relationship, he would thaw the ice a bit.

You'd have to reassure him of your relationship a lot.

He just wants you to be comfortable. Lazy nights at home, introverted hangouts, cooking together.

Pretty chill.

Tristan

literally the opposite of brady.

IS YOUR BIGGEST FAN AND DOESN'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT.

He's definitely trying to rizz you up at a fancy event, and you're just like 😐

Like whispering random shit in your ear, trying to make you blush, posing with you at every opportunity.

Kinda annoying tbh

But if you give him a chance he'll tone it down. He'll start be more genuine and less flirty.

Taking you out to dinner, not wanting to take pictures with fangirls even though you scold him for being rude.

def starts arguments with you for fun. Starting light hearted arguments with you for fun.

this mf is still annoying.

but overall very cute.

Jacob

He's honestly pretty chill about you.

He just casually approaches you strikes up conversation.

In the middle of an interview? "These lights are bright, am I right y/n?" Talking with a fan? "Y/n, don't you have that same shirt?" Signing an autograph? "Do you think aliens are real?"

like shut up 😭

He really just enjoys talking to you, hearing your voice is the highlight of his day.

Yall would ease into a comfortable friendship before he ask you out.

From there on its late night ft calls, stealing each other's clothes, and going on casual excursions.

def the easiest to date.

Madeleine

She's so funny.

Either confesses right off the bat, or confirms you're hers after yall lock eyes.

kinda reminds me of that one audio, YOU ARE MINE, YOU ARE MINE.

Yall could be talking about pregnant hyenas, and she'll randomly be like, "I love you".

like girl what?

During your relationship she would be super cute.

Yall always out together. You can never catch her inside for more than 10 minutes.

Mason be feeling like a third wheel every time yall three are in the same room.

Yall just in the corner flirting and mason's just sitting there like 😐.

def your hype girl, yall always turning up.

srry, this was so long 💗💗

#the black phone #mason thames #finney blake #robin arellano #miguel mora #brady hepner #vance hopper #bruce yamada #gwen blake #billy showalter #the black phone x reader

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activesplooger · 3 months ago

Text

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Notes: (MDNI) don't be afraid to give me feedback on this one! (grammar, criticism, wtvr u notice!). idk wtf im doing but it took a long time and like 200 redo's. enjoy!!!

Summary: Years later. The aftermath of the 'incident'. CW: angst, mistreatment of workers, abuse of power, vox being an ass, fluff if u squint, confrontation, lot of exposition sorry lol, Word Count: 2,217 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterpost!

Years later... The Vee's empire grew exponentially and are now the three top overlords in hell. As they grew, they upgraded and relocated to a new gaudy building called the "Vee Tower" which's big enough for all 3 members to reside and do their business. Vox now had a similar, but still new, upgrade to his head. His flat-screen face glows blue and has red almond-shaped eyes. The left eyelid of his is black, like his eyebrows, while his right eyelid is a bright teal, like his teeth. He wears a navy blue and teal striped blazer with matching navy slacks. A grand ruby bowtie tied around his neck, just above the red and black dress shirt he now wore. And to top it all off, he wore a top hat and a charismatic smile.

You still worked for Vox, however, your job description changed over the next few years. You went from being introduced as “This is Y/N, my friend and assistant!” to “This is an employee of mine, she won’t be a bother.”. It was agitating that he started to distance himself from you. I mean, you save his fucking life and let him weep in your arms like a child and this is the thanks you get?!

Vox had also acquired a reputation being a friendly, charismatic, entrepreneur. What a load of bullshit. His media persona was all a facade, a scam to get people to buy his products and/or work for him. You feel bad for the newer employees who deal with Vox's wrath. At least for you, you could cling to the old version of him and have some sort of positive outlook on your boss. The new staff members didn't have any outlook on their boss besides terror and apprehension. They would simply get charmed into a job and then see how Vox's personality does a fucking 180, turning into a complete jackass as soon as their soul was his. Your boss is cold to all his employees, abusing his power over them just for a power trip, a reminder of where they stand in this company. If an employee made one mistake, they'd immediately called to Vox's office for the shakedown of their life. Fucking terrifying.

The whole company shifted into a mess of moral corruption. All of VoxTech’s advertisements were schemes to hypnotize you into craving their products. Manipulation is a key tactic at VoxTech. If people watch any of the programs controlled by the company, they’ll likely hear the phrase ‘Trust us’ more often than not. And in turn, If they hear it enough, they’ll start to believe it. That’s what lured people in, making VoxTech and trust synonymous with each other until ultimately, they buy their shit. Pretty subtle tactic compared to the others. Other ways included Vox straight-up hypnotizing people with his powers. Yet another astounding example of the great morals exemplified by your boss!

Some part of you wished you never helped him that day... you hated yourself for thinking that. In spite of how shitty he is, you missed him. Not the fake media version, or the shitty boss version, the old him. The real Vox. You'd find yourself reminiscing on the late work nights you had with him. He'd order takeout, and you'd help him with his work for hours on end until you'd fall asleep at your desk from fatigue. You never failed to wake up with a crick in your neck from the cramped position, but you always had a familiar coat swaddled around your shoulders. It was the little moments with him that meant a lot. Back when he wasn't so hostile. It was starting to get on your nerves. Seeing your boss- no- seeing your old friend become a jaded prick all because of some excessively red deer fucker?! You knew Alastor hurt him, and yeah, it's understandable to be a little messed up after it... But didn't he really have to take it out on everyone else?! 'Why couldn't he just be honest and talk about what happened?! Why the fuck did he forbid you from speaking about it?!'. These questions rang in your head for years. But you could never ask him... Could you? You definitely weren’t a pushover, but you also weren’t a dumbass. As much as you wish it weren’t true, Vox had the upper hand and a mean temper. However, at this point, you were at the end of your rope. You needed answers, just... maybe not now. Soon. Maybe? Fuck! No matter how much you refused to admit it, he terrified you. You knew he could end you in an instant, he made that very clear when he nearly choked you to death. By now the bruises faded, obviously, but the emotional scars were very much there... You don't forget nor forgive what Vox did to you. So much was left unsaid that day and remains unsaid, you still can't really process it all. You tried to make excuses for what happened, something to console you and give you some sort of reason for everything. The blame always fell on Alastor, which, you felt was true to at least some degree. Your theories aren't enough to soothe your troubled thoughts. It still nagged at you, it always did. If there was some way for you to obliviate this, you would done it have a long time ago.

And the cherry on top of it all is the fact that you have to see him every day and pretend like nothing ever happened. Your workplace serves as a constant reminder of what happened, you couldn't possibly get yourself to stop thinking about it. Every fiber of your being just wanted you to call him out and pry into every detail of what happened with Alastor- But you held back... Part of you felt he would hurt you... again... As much as you want answers, being hurt and possibly killed over it definitely isn't worth it.

Your heels clicked on the black flooring as you walked to Vox's office. Vox had previously emailed you to bring him some paperwork for some new employees who were recently hired. You carried the heavy stack of documents in your hands, your arms begging for relief. Couldn’t these have been digital like everything else? You could’ve sworn he did this just to make things harder for you. Prick. The path to his desk was long and narrow, with sharks swimming around beside it. A large circular platform that held Vox’s desk and various monitors accompanied by heaps of cords and cables ended the path. From a distance, you can see your boss berating another employee. The worker cowered on the ground beside the desk as Vox loomed over him, a scowl etched across his face. You increase your pace to his desk in an attempt to shorten the eyesore in front of you. "Let me get this straight," The TV demon inches closer "You want to waste M҉Y̴ time M҉Ɏ money, MɎ-". "I-I just want some time off, Mr. Vox," the trembling staff member interrupts "I-It's my wife and I's anniversary I-I just need a couple hours-". A teal blue collar takes shape around the worker's neck, you couldn't believe the sight before you. Rage and pent-up strain filled your core, it killed you to see him doing this to someone else. Right in front of you no less. Your breathing becomes shallow, the memory of Vox choking you haunting your brain as you see another employee going through what you did. Should you stop it? Would that only make things worse? Fuck- 'Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout'. That phrase repeats in your head like a mantra, you need to get the fuck out of there. You couldn't stand being there any longer.

Large teal claws grasp at the end of the leash attached to the collar, pulling the chain closer as Vox speaks. "ɎØ҉U҉ ŁƗSŦɆN ĦɆɌɆ ɎØ҉U҉ F҉U҉ȻꝀƗNǤ-". The slam of papers cuts off Vox, he whips his head to the sound only to find you walking out of the office in a huff. Tears welled up in your eyes. 'Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout'. Pushing the doors open you run out, tears falling down your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath. You turn the corner and slump against the nearest wall, burying your head in your knees and unsteady sobbing.

After you left, Vox just stares at the door you stormed through. The chain vanishes from his grip, and his hands fall to his side as longing and regret cross his features. Your boss's mind was so preoccupied with you leaving that he didn't notice the employee scurrying out the door. Once he realized that he let the worker off the hook, he didn't call him back. No. He let him go. Vox had bigger things to deal with. You.

Whilst you lay there, slumped against the wall, you feel something drape over your shoulders. But, when you lift your head, you don't see anyone, only a blue zap darting up to a security camera. You furrow your eyebrows and turn your head to see what was draped over your back. Your eyes are met with a navy blue and teal striped blazer comfortably enveloping your shoulders. "...Vox?" --

For a few hours, you clutched onto the jacket as you sobbed, but, eventually, you had to suck it up and work. And return the jacket. Fuck. That's gonna be awkward... 'I can't just keep it, can I?' you thought as you grabbed the jacket and made your way to his office, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable conversation ahead.

You quietly make your way over to Vox's desk, his eyes fixed on the monitors in front of him, not noticing you. "Sir?". "Gah!" Vox springs up out of his chair and nearly falls out of it, "Y/N! What the fuck?!". "Sorry sorry!" you apologize, "I didn't mean to startle you, Sir.". An awkward grin spreads across your face as you hold out the jacket to him "I came to return-" the jacket gets snatched out of your hands "-this". Vox slides the jacket over his black and red dress shirt, "Finally!" he exclaims. You stand there awkwardly after he ripped the blazer out of your hands while Vox just got back to work on his computer. "Can I help you?" Vox questioned with a condescending look on his face. "Hm? Oh! No no, I just wanted to thank you, so- Thank you." A soft smile crossed your features, hoping that this would spark a sincere discussion. Rolling his eyes, he responded with an annoyed tone, "Well, don't. Just accept the gesture and move on, we don't. need. to talk about it."

A scoff escapes your lips, "Typical." you mutter.

“What was that?” Vox eyes bored into yours as he got up to fully face you, his tall stature towering over you.

Normally, you’d back down from a situation like this. You knew that Vox could overpower you in an instant. But something in you just snapped, you couldn't take it any longer. Any fears or doubts you had suddenly disappeared. You just can't take it any longer.

“You heard me” you retort, standing up as straight as possible to try and match his height. Red vexed eyes narrowed at you, staring deeply into your eyes, "If you had any brain in that head of yours you'd back off, Y/N." he barked. The skin over your knuckles pulls taught as you balled your hands into fists, "If you had any brain in that flat head of yours you'd understand why I'm fed up with your shit!" you lashed out, "I swear if I wasn't soul-bound I'd leave your TV ass in an instant!" Vox's crimson eyes widened, he seemed genuinely surprised at your exposure of him, "Excuse me? I've given you ɆVɆɌɎŦĦƗNǤ! You'd be blundering around Hell if I hadn't hired you!" Your eyes practically roll out of your head. "You haven't given me anything besides a daily fucking migraine!" "I will not take this, I'm your superior, Y/N!" your boss blustered, "Or did you forget? Perhaps I should give you a reminder-". The all too familiar teal blue leash starts to materialize in his hands causing a knee-jerk reaction out of you. Your hands instinctively grab the half-embodied chain and yank it to the side.

SNAP!

The two of you stand there, watching in disbelief as the teal links slowly disappear. You're not sure how you managed to stop the soul-leash from fully forming, but you did. Finally prying your eyes off the now absent chain, you look up at Vox. He was still looking down like a deer in the headlights, looking vulnerable and powerless. The sight of him reminds you of the way he looked when he desperately clung to you after his falling out with Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this since then. For the first time in years, he wasn't in control of something. The overlord's voice faltered as he mumbled, "How did-". "I don't know," you responded abruptly. ... Red gleaming eyes lifted to meet yours, "You want to talk? Fine. You've convinced me," he slumps back into his chair, his elbow popping up his head as he looked at you with an exasperated look, "Talk."

to be continued! hope u liked this chapterr its the longest of the two. this one took me long as fuck sorry lol i havent had a lot of free time. lmk if u want to be apart of the tag list :) also leave me some feedback in the replies or the ask me anything tab iyw!

COMFORT FROM THE ANGST COMING SOON!

-- TAG LIST:

@lovelyemily, @preppyfellaa

#reader x vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox the tv demon #the vees #vox fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #hazbin x reader #slow burn #angst #fluff #vox angst #vox fluff #vox hazbin hotel #help me

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jamiefartt · 2 months ago

Text

run the world; part two.

masterlist, part 1.

pairings: Jamie Tartt x reader, a bit of Sam Obisanya x reader.

summary: as the striker for AFC Richmond's very first women's team, the pressure is on. you're desperate to bond with the men's team, especially their number 9. so when your captains make you two train together, you find special ways to make it fun for both of you.

words: 10.5k

warnings: nausea mentioned, no smut but sexual references, a looootta dialogue (sorry but I love it), mean Jamie and also mean reader oooh

———

the feeling of Jamie's fingers planted firmly between yours makes your skin red hot, and your arms suddenly stop shaking on your last push-up. with your ears ringing, you know your face is bright red as you forget to breathe for the last strain. Roy counts the last number, and Jamie's hand immediately pulls away from yours as he sits back on his knees. you fold through your elbows, collapsing flat onto the ground, your flushed chest cooling against the cold grass. fighting the urge to glance over at Jamie, you screw your eyes shut, taking deep breaths as you recover from the strenuous push-ups. twenty push-ups is easy, but with the slow speed Roy was counting at, you feel as if you did double that amount. your right hand clenches into a fist, the lingering feeling of Jamie's fingers touching yours making your nerve endings feel like static. why did he do that? it must have been on purpose, him having to outstretch his arm uncomfortably in order to reach you. but why?

"well done. take a quick water break," Roy says as he walks away from the two of you. you don't hear Jamie move to get up, but you can't keep your eyes closed forever, so you push yourself up and onto your knees. his legs are sprawled out in front of you, mud and grass coating his metal studs, and his arms hold his torso up as they're outstretched behind him. trying to avoid his gaze, you keep your eyes down as you reach up to tighten your ponytail. still, you can feel his eyes burning into your skin, and you know he's going to say something.

"ooh, y/n," Jamie starts.

"knew it," you mutter to yourself, squeezing one eye shut as you look up at him.

"I think you've had a bit of an accident." Jamie hisses through his teeth as he points at his own cheek. you quickly reach a hand to your face, wiping your cheek before looking at your fingers. you roll your eyes at him and grunt when you notice it's just some dirt, the irrational thought of it being dog shit leaving your mind just as quickly as it came. "you're the worst," you groan, standing up before jogging towards the dugout, heading straight for the walkway into the training centre. pushing open the door to the women's bathroom, you sigh deeply, wondering what the fuck just happened between you and Jamie. running the tap until the water heats up, you pull a paper towel from its dispenser before soaking it. as you bring it up to your cheek to wipe off the mud, you stare at the hand Jamie touched. it felt like electricity, like pins and needles, and like hot fire running through your veins all at the same time. maybe it was because you had been holding your weight for way too long, or maybe it was simply touch deprivation.

"y/n!" Gia bursts into the bathroom, making you jump and drop the wet paper in the sink with a slapping sound.

"fucking hell, Gia!" you shout at her, placing your hands on each side of the porcelain sink to stabilise yourself.

"how's it going?" she drags out her words, turning to the mirror to redo her hair. she smiles at you and raises her eyebrows suggestively, but when she sees your defeated expression, her face drops and concern clouds her eyes. she nudges you with her knee, her hands occupied as she twists her long hair into a bun, "what's up? did he say something?"

once again, you sigh deeply, too shy to look her in the eye as you think about how to word your thoughts; "no, no, nothing too crazy. he did talk about tying his dick to my tits, though. I have no idea what that was about-"

"oh," Gia laughs, "that was something Roy made them do in training one time! they, like, tied a red string to their dick and then connected it with another guy's dick and tried to play football. it was... kinda hot."

"okay, anyways," you grimace at the thought, disgusted with your best friend, and shake the image out of your head. you continue: "we were doing shooting drills and we made it a bit of a competition and it was actually quite fun, you know?"

"yes! holy shit! I did it! I need to tell Isaac," Gia yells, turning to leave the bathroom. you reach a hand out, grabbing hers to pull her back to face you. "Gia!" you yell, snapping her out of her blind excitement. "oh, right, sorry. continue," she clears her throat and sniffs, trying her best to act casual.

"it was a lot of fun until- basically, if we missed goal post we had to do push-ups together, right? so, Jamie missed and was such a fucking baby about it, and we were facing each other while we did them..."

"go on," Gia's eyes are wide, a smile growing on her lips as she stares at you.

"Jamie caught me checking out his arms- which you can't blame me for!" you say quickly, knowing Gia was about to interrupt you again, "and then when we were doing the last push-up he put his fingers between mine like this, see?" you demonstrate by interlocking your fingers, turning them to get the perspective right. "or, like, here," you pick up her hand, moving your fingers between hers to show her properly. Gia is completely silent, and you wonder if she just hasn't understood your explanation, but when your eyes flick up to hers, her face is frozen in shock. you roll your eyes and drop her hand, clapping in front of her face. her jaw is slack, and she doesn't blink at all until you poke her chest, dragging her back to earth.

"Gia, chill, it might have been an accident." you say, grabbing a new paper towel to dry the remaining water droplets off your cheek.

"an accident? are you fucking serious?"

"he was probably just trying to throw me off or something..." you reason, walking backwards to throw the tissues into the bin.

"y/n... really? he wanted contact with you- physical contact, and that isn't an easy mistake. this is great!"

"no! nothing about this is great! he's a dick, he was definitely just fucking with me. he saw me staring at his muscles, so what? Jamie's got such an ego, I bet he loved the attention."

"yeah he did..." Gia drawls, putting her hands on your shoulders and shaking you side to side. she cackles in your face, and the contagious sound forces a smile through your grumpy exterior. "there you go!" she chirps, "and even if he is just messing with you, just do it back! he's Jamie Tartt, it's okay to think he's fit-"

"I don't-" you protest, but Gia interrupts you again; "shut up. he could get any girl he wants, but I guarantee we can get him to chase you."

you scoff and huff a laugh at her words; "why would I want that?"

"because it's fun."

back on the pitch, you push away your nerves as you head back to Jamie and Roy. you continue your drills, taking shots from different angles to the goal, and you even kick it against Jamie on purpose during one of your turns. this time, when Roy makes you do push ups, you stay a safe distance away from him, keeping to yourself. if this was any other day, you'd find the repetitive drills boring, but you can't deny you're having a lot of fun with Jamie. of course, your constant competition is the main source of that fun, and with every mean or teasing jab you throw at each other, you find yourself enjoying the outlet. football always riles you up, anger and frustration taking over when you miss a goal or pass, but oddly enough, having someone to be unapologetically mean to helps. every time one of you hit the post, you call each other a rude name, or insult each other's skills, and you always count yourself successful when your words bring a small smile to Roy's face.

a whistle blows at the other side of the pitch, pulling you and Jamie out of a childish argument about how to best tie the laces of your boots. you pause mid-sentence, a finger still poking his chest from your back-and-forth bickering. he chuckles, bringing his hand up and wrapping it around yours before pushing it down; "that means I win." you glance down at your hands, his fingers still lightly holding on to you, before looking back up at his face. clenching your jaw, you huff a breath through your nose and pull your hand from his; "this isn't over, Tartt."

jogging away from him, you meet the rest of the team at the side of the field, everyone grouped together to listen to Isaac and Gia again. you find Sam, standing next to him; "hey Sam," you sigh, grateful to have a break from Jamie for some positive energy from Sam.

"hi, y/n, how was that?" he asks you, eyebrows arched as he awaits your answer.

"oh, you know... fucking awful." Sam laughs at your words, and you smile up at him as you shake your head.

"don't pretend it was all bad, y/n. you enjoyed checking me out didn't you?" Jamie's voice appears behind you, and you suck in your lips and close your eyes at the sound. dropping your head forward in defeat, you're scared to open your eyes and see Sam's face, so you whip around to look at Jamie instead. clearly, he caught up with you, and clearly, he has no desire to leave you alone before the next activity.

you cock your head to the side, squinting at Jamie with a challenging look in your eyes; "you wish I was checking you out, Jamie."

he pouts and throws his eyes to the sky, pretending to be deep in thought for a few seconds. he hums to himself as he crosses his arms; "I don't know..." you hold your breath as you await his next words, "you seemed to be doing it at Sam's restaurant too, and uhm, when else did- oh yeah, earlier before we even started training! you're a thirsty one,"

your hand comes up to your hair as you nervously fix your already-perfect ponytail, thinking of what to say to that. he isn't lying, but you also didn't think he'd noticed your particular admiration with his biceps. "yeah, yeah, as if," you mutter, hoping your tone seemed stern enough to get Jamie off your back. you turn back to Sam, looking up at him with a grimace, widening your eyes and shaking your head at him; "what an ego, right?" Sam squints at you skeptically, pouting his lips and nodding along, but you can easily tell he believes Jamie more than you.

"whistle!" Roy's loud voice interrupts your awkward silence, and you face forward and blow out a breath. the thick air is heavy between the three of you, and you can feel both of your shoulders brushing their arms ever so slightly, finally noticing just how close they are to you. you make no effort to move away, however, enjoying the warmth their presence gives you as the cold breeze hits your bare legs. cheeks flushing, you're kind of enjoying the buzz standing between them gives you; is this the chase that Gia was talking about? maybe this is the excitement you initially missed with Sam?

"we're about to play a full 90 minute game as if it was the real thing. we have a starting lineup, and a big list of subs, so-" Gia shouts.

"boys, I don't wanna see any fucking injuries before this weekend, so don't be big men about it and just sit out when you need, understood?" the guys all hum in agreement, some of them saying a simple "yes captain."

"if I call your name, that means you're starting eleven for the bibs, so just stand to the side a bit," Gia continues, motioning a hand to the left of the crowd, "then, I'm gonna call out the subs. whoever's left will be the starters for shirts. everyone got that?" you nod at her words, and the others do the same amongst a chorus of yesses. once she's finished calling out the list, you're in the starting lineup for shirts, Sam beside you. the team is made up of a mix of the two teams, and the smirk on your face as you watch Jamie slip on a bib is priceless. Gia and Isaac know what they're doing, and you can't say you're complaining.

"dream team?" Sam leans down beside you, whispering in your ear. you turn to face him, sending him a quick wink; "you know it."

you all get into position, you and Jamie standing face-to-face in the middle of the pitch. Roy stands beside you two, holding the football under his arm. no captains have been assigned, so it's up to you and Jamie to flip the coin. you stare into his dark eyes, his pupils blown wide, reminding you of the way he looked at you as you were doing push-ups. lips parting slightly, your heart rate speeds up as you struggle keeping your eyes on his; his gaze is intense, completely unwavering as he looks at you. his smirk is subtle, but present, and you let your eyes flick to his lips for a split second. of course, Jamie notices the slight movement, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly.

"heads." you say abruptly, pulling yourself from your staring competition with him. he sucks in a breath as he finally tears his eyes off yours to look at Roy, realising there's no opportunity for him to tease you any further. Jamie watches the coin as Roy tosses it in the air, but your eyes stay on his face, taking your chance to stare at him without being called out for it. dragging your eyes over his sharp features, you admire how smooth his skin is, wondering why such an idiot deserves such good genetics. just as Roy shouts "tails!" your eyes land on Jamie's lips again, and it's too late to look away as he turns to face you again. he leans forward, bringing his face close to yours; "you can kiss 'em if you let me win."

his teasing words make your nostrils flare in frustration as you bring a hand up, pushing it to the middle of his chest. the slight blow makes him take a step backwards, and he laughs out loud at your strop as you move out of the way for him to kick off the match. jaw clenched, you keep your eyes on the ball as he places it down. his feet drag backwards in the grass three times before tucking his loose shorts into his skin-tight undershorts. your eyes linger on his thighs, the deep lines highlighting his muscles. with your eyes glued on his legs, you watch as he runs and shoots the ball to his defenders. you hang back as Jamie's team charges forward, watching as he sprints towards your goal. it all goes so quickly, he catches up with the ball, intercepting a pass between your team and pelting it into the goal all within the first five minutes of the game. "offside!" you shout, but the ref, who's really one of your coaches, counts it as a goal.

and so begins the game, with an instant goal by Jamie. he couldn't be cockier about it, running across the pitch with his arms outstretched, Dani jumping on his back to celebrate. clearly your irritation is obvious, Sam jogging over to you and placing a hand on your arm to keep you close as he whispers in your ear. your eyes find Jamie's across the pitch as he stares at the two of you, no longer celebrating with his team. his mouth is turned down in a grimace, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully. Sam explains a tactic to you, making sure you understand which play you're going to do. apparently, it's one the men do all the time, and that's exactly why they won't be expecting you to do it.

with the ball back in play, your team immediately snatches it from the bibs. making its way down the pitch, everyone is quick on their feet, and you run aimless circles trying to get in the way of the others. the ball is passed to Sam, and as he runs towards you, you start asking for the ball; "yeah, Sam, here! pass it!" defenders are on you instantly, all crowding around you as you run towards the goal. instead of passing it to you, however, Sam makes a sudden shoot for the goal, aiming for the corner of the net. his kick is sharp and fast, the ball flying through the air at a rapid pace before crashing straight into the goal. he sprints towards you with his arms open, and you run straight into them to hug him. your team runs up behind you, all crowding around you and jumping up and down as you all celebrate.

"our false nine!" Ted screams across the pitch, "yes, y/n! that's exactly how you do it!" he runs over to you and Sam, giving you both a fist bump. "hey, Jamie, take notes buddy." he says with a delighted smile before strolling back to the side of the pitch, hands deep in the pockets of his khakis. you widen your eyes at Jamie, holding your fingers in an L-shape and bringing it to your forehead, sticking out your tongue again for added effect. it seems he took it to heart, immediately huddling his team together to discuss plays. you and Sam do the same, but decide with your team to just have fun with it and play as well as you can.

with five minutes left before half-time, you're nearly ready to sub someone else in for your position, the exhaustion and cold suddenly hitting you deep in your bones. the game is red hot, everyone running on pure adrenaline. right before making your second goal of the game, you lose the ball to the opposition, but decide to use your last bit of energy to burst to the middle of the pitch, desperate to get that ball back. they pass it to Jamie, and you narrow your eyes as you chase him. technically, it's up to the others to get the ball off him, but as you watch the ball rolling at his feet, your rivalry trumps the way of the game. sprinting as hard as you possible can, the cold air pulls tears from your eyes as the wind hits you, and you can see your teammates following you in your peripheral; perfect. you push through three powerful strides until you're right on Jamie's heels. using all your force, you slide a foot in front of him, aiming more for his feet than the ball. you trip him up perfectly, and he comes crashing down as the ball rolls ahead of him. whilst you fall to the ground, you see one of your teammates get possession of the ball, immediately passing it back down the pitch.

after landing on the ground on your side, you push yourself up, leaning on your arm to see Jamie lying flat on his back in front of you. his legs are sprawled in front of him, hands coming up to his face and rubbing it in frustration. as he sits up, he smacks the ground, grunting loudly. you throw your head back and cackle as pure adrenaline flows through your veins. whilst catching your breath from your crazy sprint, you force yourself onto your feet, and you stumble over to Jamie with a tired huff, looking down at him with a smug smile. reaching a hand out for him to take, you hear loud cheers and screams erupt behind you, but you don't need to check to know your team scored.

"I win?" you ask Jamie, who squints up at you with one eye shut. he's taking his time to stare at you, so you raise your eyebrows at him in question, and with a deep sigh, he finally lifts up his hand, grabbing yours. you pull him up to his feet, smile smug.

"you win," he sighs, dropping your hand and brushing the grass off his clothes. his face is stone cold, eyes avoiding yours. you move your head to try to catch his gaze, but he quickly turns away from you, walking off the pitch. his shoulders are hunched with his head down, keeping his eyes on the ground as he walks.

"wait, sorry, what was that? I don't think I heard you right," you attempt to tease him, jogging behind him. he ignores you, so you reach a hand up to his shoulder trying to get his attention. Jamie turns to you abruptly, shrugging your hand from his shoulder before catching it with his hand before pulling you into his chest. your smile drops in surprise as a smirk appears on his face again, and your breath hitches in your throat as you crash against him. your legs are too tired to hold you up, so he quickly wraps a hand around your waist, holding you close to him. completely taken aback, you don't have it in you to push him away, instead looking up at him with wide, stunned eyes.

Jamie leans down, placing his mouth right beside your ear. his breath fanning your skin makes goosebumps appear, and you struggle to keep breathing at the feeling. "you win, y/n." his voice is sultry and low, and your hand being held against his chest lets you feel the vibrations rumble through him. your knees threaten to buckle, but you dig your studs into the grass beneath you as he lets go of your waist. you're speechless and breathless at the same time, and the feeling of his arm around you leaves your skin tingling. his hand lingers on the hand he's holding for just a beat too long, and you quickly pull it away from him, reaching your hands up to run them over your hair awkwardly. "okay. thank you, Jamie," you sputter before turning on your heel and walking off the pitch, hearing your blood pumping through your veins as your legs carry you straight towards Roy.

"just sub someone in for me, I need to- uhm... take a shit?" you say unconvincingly, and Roy bites back a smile as he stares down at you. you stick to your guns, popping your hip with a hand on your side as you keep your eyes on his.

"and this shit... is it going to take you until the end of the second half?" he asks you, voice pitching as he holds back his laughter.

"yes, coach." your statement is simple, and you hold your mouth in a straight line as you await his response.

"alright, you're off the hook. have a good shit." he gives you a curt nod.

"thank you, coach." you nod back before letting your legs carry you inside and straight for the stairs. taking two stairs at once, you fly up them, running for the door to your changing room.

stumbling towards the bench in front of your name and number, you drop down onto it, knees wobbling under your weight. you release the longest breath you can, placing both hands on the edge of the bench beneath you in a poor attempt to ground yourself. your skin feels like it's on fire, and the sudden warmth after being outside for so long makes you start to overheat. you stand up, completely overwhelmed by the adrenaline, pulling your long sleeved top off as fast as you can. you push both of your socks down, trying to cool your skin as much as possible. your hands fan your face as you huff deep breaths in and out. pacing up and down the room, your mind races with everything Jamie Tartt; the way his hand gripped yours, and the way he held you up with just one arm around your waist, how dark his eyes looked when he caught you checking him out, and especially the way he looked so up close. his tanned skin looked smooth and soft, and the image of his strong fingers between yours makes your vision blur. you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly lowering yourself back to your seat as you picture his face close to yours. you feel your mind beginning to drift even further, but you don't let it, sitting yourself down again and looking up at the ceiling.

"he's a prick, he's a prick, he's a prick," you repeat quietly over and over, pulling yourself away from the hot spiral your mind is approaching.

"y/n?!" you jump at the sound of Gia's loud voice interrupting your mantra, "Roy said you were shitting..."

"oh my god-" embarrassment hits you like a truck, hands flying up to cover your face.

"fucking hell, y/n. you're, like, bright red and topless... are you okay?"

"yeah, I mean, I don't know if it's the adrenaline or what, but, I don't think I can do any more today," your defeat clear in your weak voice, you drop your hands to your lap and look down at your fingers, pins and needles running through them as you recover from being in the cold.

"ew, okay, go home for today. I'll see you later, just get some rest, yeah?" you nod quickly, suddenly feeling a confusing nausea kicking in at the sheer memory of how Jamie's hard chest felt against your hand. as you shake the thought from your head, you feel the need to tell Gia: "I wasn't actually shitting, just so you know."

"jesus, y/n," she shakes her head at you, walking towards where you're sitting. she squats down in front of you, placing two hands on your knees and looking at you with caring eyes. "go home and take a nice cool bath, yeah? relax and calm down... and I just wanna say," her face goes from sweet to serious as she looks directly in your eyes, "the way you played today made me realise what an honour it is to be your captain. I haven't seen you like that since we were teenagers, y/n. each kick against that ball carried so much talent, and passion, and you were just having so much fun."

you give her a weak, lopsided smile, rolling your eyes slightly. she squeezes your knees before looking down and untying your boots for you; "Gia, you don't have to-"

"anything for my striker," she whispers to you with a wink, "I will literally do anything to keep you enjoying football the way you did today."

"I won't lie to you," you start, "training with Jamie definitely helped," you aren't proud to admit it, and you aren't trying to give him kudos for anything, but your constant quarreling added a new fuel to your old fire. even in simple drills, your motivation to win was doubled, and the satisfaction you felt whenever you beat Jamie was almost greater than winning a match -- but you would never admit all that to anybody.

"I can tell," Gia says, raising her eyebrows at you before pushing herself back, "now, get yourself an uber home. I'll see you later."

you do exactly that, getting straight into an uber without even changing out of your training kit. when you get home, you struggle up the stairs, your legs trying their hardest to keep you up. you start running your bath and pull off your muddy clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom tiles. as you light your favourite candle, you stare into the flame. the adrenaline from training has worn off, but despite the exhaustion settling deep in your bones, you can still remember exactly how all of your heightened senses felt. during drills with Roy, every time your kick hit a goal post, your heart soared. even though you used to play that game with Gia all the time when you were in school, something about the way you held your breath as the ball floated through the air made it all the more rewarding. the suspense and the competition made your blood pump faster, Jamie being a key component to that feeling. you even found yourself clapping for him when he made an impressive kick, and he did the same for you. you don't take each other seriously, and maybe that's the secret to keeping football so fun.

after your bath, your body is entirely relaxed, the weightless feeling of the water bringing a sweet relief to your tired legs. wrapped in your towel, you head down the hallway towards you room. as you pass the stairwell you call a loud "hello?" down to the rest of the house, but there's no answer. with a satisfied smile, you continue into your room, dropping your towel. after grabbing your pyjama bottoms, you throw on a tank top before standing in front of your mirror. you take your time with your skincare as your hair dries, giving yourself some much-needed tlc. whilst staring at your reflection, you can't wipe the smile from your face; all the excitement and energy from today has transformed into pure contentment.

in your slippers, you skip down the stairs, heading straight to the kitchen. thank god for your lazy sunday takeouts, because all it takes is heating up some leftovers for you to have dinner set for the evening. you get comfortable on your small sofa, plate in hand, as you turn the tv on to an old episode of your favourite comfort show. kicking your feet up, you stretch your legs over the other couch cushion, feeling an ache in your muscles similar to those after you've just played a real match. the food warms your bones, and your laughter floods the room even though you could recite this episode from memory if asked to.

walking across the room to the kitchen, you drop your plate in the sink before opening the fridge, bending down as you study what you and Gia have in there. grabbing a cold juice pouch, you laugh at another joke on the television, piercing the straw through the plastic as you head back to the comfy couch. dropping yourself on it, you sigh to yourself, staring at the tv screen as your mind drifts again. a blush creeps up your face as slight embarrassment takes over your thoughts, remembering how Roy saw you checking Jamie out at training. Jamie noticing you doing it was bad, but it's somehow even worse that third person was just watching it all from above. the genuine smile you saw on Jamie's face was something you didn't think you'd ever get to witness with your own two eyes. when it was just you two mucking about during your practice drills, there were a few moments when his smile wasn't cocky, or at your expense, but he would just look genuinely proud of himself.

car headlights shine through the front window of the house, and you pause your show, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch. you crook your neck back and to the side, trying to see Gia walking in the door behind you. you hear chatter as she approaches, assuming Isaac is with her, and when she unlocks the door, you were right. behind her is Isaac, and you begin to smile until you see who they've brought home with them.

"what the fuck?" you sputter, quickly sitting up straight and running your hands over your tied-up hair. Jamie saunters in behind Isaac, ignoring you as he slips his shoes off at the door.

"how are you feeling now?" Gia asks sweetly, ignoring your shocked expression at the sight of Jamie Tartt standing in your living room. she drops herself into one of the bean bags across the couch, Isaac sitting one the one next to her.

"I was feeling great until now!" you exclaim, holding a hand out towards Jamie as you look between Gia and Isaac angrily. he's standing at the door with his arms crossed over chest, clearly unsure of what to do.

"Jamie, please come sit down," Gia beckons towards the sofa with a friendly smile, direclty contrasting your not-so-welcoming face.

"uh, where?" he asks, an unfamiliar shyness to his voice.

Gia raises her eyebrows at you, nodding her head towards your spread out legs. you huff and roll your eyes as you fold your legs beneath yourself, sitting criss-cross on the left side of the sofa. without saying anything, Jamie sheepishly walks over to you before sitting on the other cushion. suddenly, you regret ever buying the cozy two-seater, feeling Jamie's broad shoulders brush against yours as you both keep your arms crossed.

"so, we have gathered you here today to witness the joining of two lives," Isaac says with a serious voice, brow low as usual.

"Roy spoke to us after training today, basically proposing a bit of an idea for the two of you." Gia follows, and your eyes are stern as you flick them between her and Isaac. trying your best to look unfazed by Jamie's close proximity to you, the strong smell of his cologne makes that particularly difficult. it floods your senses, salty and fresh. it's the opposite of what you'd imagined, but it still suits him. you steal a glance at his man-spreaded legs, his black denim jeans tight around his thighs. you're not a big fan of his skinny jean look, but you really don't mind the way they hug his muscular legs.

Isaac continues; "Roy said that he thinks you two had a lot of fun training together today, and loved watching the flirty little rivalry you've got going on."

"woah!" you shout, holding your hands up in surrender, "we were not flirting."

"yeah, she was checking me out, not the other way around!" Jamie shakes his head and grimaces, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

"I wasn't checking you out," you groan, looking over at him, "you're the one who offered to kiss me!"

he scoffs at you, sitting up straight as he says: "that is not what happened." with raised eyebrows, he looks at Isaac and Gia, now pointing at them too.

"okay, whatever, I don't care who wants to kiss who," Gia interrupts your protests, "we all think that you two should train and practice together outside of regular training. so, instead of going to the gym after trainings, you continue doing drills and stuff together."

the silence which falls over the room is deafening, you and Jamie matching in expressions as you stare at your captains with your jaws slack.

"train... with him?" you say, utterly confused by the suggestion.

"instead of the gym? what about my gains? Isaac, come on, you can't be serious," Jamie holds his hands out, acting completely helpless.

"sorry bruv, you can still get your reps in whenever you want, but we think you guys can really help each other get motivated and stuff." Isaac tries to smile at the two of you, bearing his teeth in a wide grin. but when he's met with your bored faces, he soon drops the expression.

"the next few games we have are... important, of course, but the stakes aren't too high. after last week's win the women have nothing to worry about, and I mean, the guys seem to be doing just fine, so," Gia rambles, using her hands to emphasise her point. she sighs, dropping her hands in her lap as she slumps her shoulders; "y/n, I haven't seen you play the way you did today in years, and you said it yourself Jamie-"

"stop!" you yelp, interrupting her mid-sentence holding your hands up in front of you as if physically stopping her. while you bite your lip, considering their proposal, you turn your head to look at Jamie and to your surprise, his eyes are already on you. he blinks quickly, looking down at the ground and reaching a hand up to rub his chin. you scan his face, letting your eyes run down his torso before landing on the same place on the ground he seems to be staring at. fingers pulling nervously at the straps of your tank top, you chew on the inside of your cheeks. as you try to picture having to spend any more time alone with Jamie, you start shaking your head side-to-side. your eyes flick back up to Gia, a deep frown now appearing on your face; "no."

in your peripheral, you see Jamie's head snap to the side, eyes boring into the side of your face, but you can't make out his expression. Gia looks at you with a fed-up look in her eyes, and Isaac stays silent. you stare at your captain, emotionless, waiting for her to let you off the hook and send Jamie home. instead, he's the first one to say something, huffing at your words.

"pfft, why not?"

"why not? Jamie, you don't want to do this either," you spit out quickly, finally turning to look at him. your eyes meet, and you immediately notice how alert his eyes are, pupils blown wide.

"yeah, I mean, true... I just don't get why anyone wouldn't wanna spend time with me." he scoffs.

"jesus christ, Jamie," you roll your eyes at him, leaning back against the sofa and crossing your arms again. Isaac and Gia mirror you, both rolling their eyes at Jamie's narcissistic comment.

"listen, if I were getting paid to play football with a woman that would be a whole different story, but I'm not, so." with a shrug, he draws his mouth into a straight line.

"Jamie, your whole job is playing for Richmond," Isaac starts, "you get paid to train... what's the difference if you're training on your own or with y/n?" Isaac takes his explanation slow, squinting at Jamie as he does so.

"it's different 'cus..." Jamie replies, confident at first before his voice falters, his eyes darting around the room thinking of a valid reason. you stare at him expectantly, genuinely curious about what he'll come up with next, but he trails off, staying silent.

"oh! let me guess Jamie, it's because you're not into all that feminist shit, is that it? or is it because I won today? because I beat you, and you're too fucking insecure and egotistical to admit that sometimes you're not the only person out on that pitch who wants to win. how embarrassing for you," you say, standing up from where you're sitting and walking over to the kitchen in a huff. you keep your back turned to everyone as you stand at the sink, turning on the tap and running the water over your hands just so it looks like you're there with a purpose. the air is heavy as long seconds pass, and you're not sure exactly how long the room stays silent for.

"right," Jamie eventually sighs, slapping his hands on his thighs before pushing himself up from the sofa, "I'll be off then." you turn to face the room again, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Jamie, wait," Gia tries, but he holds a hand up to her as he pouts with a shake of his head, moving towards the door and slipping his trainers on.

"I'll give you a lift," Isaac mutters, struggling his way out of the beanbag before following Jamie out of the front door, still in his slippers.

hands still gripping the counter, you stare down at your feet, only slightly embarrassed by your little jab at Jamie.

"y/n, what the fuck?" Gia snaps as soon as the door clicks shut.

okay, maybe you're more than just a bit embarrassed. you hear Isaac's car rumble to life in the driveway, and you can feel Gia's eyees burn into you. you're suddenly too shy to look up at her, feeling your cheeks turn hot.

"you literally told me you had fun with Jamie! what was that all about?" she first sounds confused before fading into a more concerned tone. the care in her voice makes you look up at her slowly. pushing yourself away from the counter, you lift a hand up to rub your tired eyes before pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I know," you sigh deeply, "I just don't want him to know that." the corner of your lips quirks up for a split, but no real smile breaks through.

Gia sighs too, moving over to the sofa and sitting down where Jamie had previously been. she stares at you, a knowing look in her eyes, before patting the space beside her. you look away from her briefly, eyes glancing at the television, which is still showing the paused image of your abandoned tv show. shuffling towards her, she opens her arms for you, and when you sit down on the couch you lean into her. letting out a deep breath, your mind flashes with thoughts of Jamie for what feels like the tenth time today; his strong fingers between yours, how big his hand felt around your waist, the goosebumps on his neck as he watched the coin flip. your eyes flutter as you imagine his lips, how soft they looked despite the cold air, and the sound of his voice close to your ear. whenever you found yourself close to him, shoulder-to-shoulder on both the pitch and the couch, he always felt so warm. he radiates heat and electricity, your blood running hot even just thinking about him. whether that's in a good way or a bad way, you're not too sure.

"you don't fancy him, do you?"

"oh my god, Gia, no!" you laugh at her question, slapping her leg playfully.

"awe," she coos, "that's a shame. because I kinda think he has a bit of a thing for you."

you shoot up, leaning as far away from her as humanly possible as if it would remove you from that thought completely. you stare at her with your eyebrows arched, a mix of shock and disgust pitting in your stomach.

"wh- oh my god, ew," you shake your head, eyes darting around the room at a rapid pace as you consider her words, blinking fast, "why would you even think that?"

"I can see the way he looks at you, y/n. anyone can see he at least wants to shag you," Gia shrugs as if what she's saying doesn't absolutely repulse you. "what?" she asks you with a chuckle when you just stare at her blankly, "I bet you calling him insecure made him violently hard, and that's why he left so fast."

an unhinged laugh bursts out of your mouth at that, a hand flying up to cover it; "violently?! jesus christ," you both laugh together, the tension in the air dissipating as you continue joking about the idea.

"I mean, Jamie is physically fit, yeah," you explain to her, "and who wouldn't wanna say they've slept with a famous footballer?"

"exactly! why do you think I'm with Isaac?" both of you chuckle before you continue, "but I just don't think us spending any more time together would do anyone any good. today was great and it was exhilarating and fun, but honestly, I think the bickering will only lead to worse."

"you really think so?" Gia's eyes turn soft as she sounds hopeful in her question, "I know he was rude to you at the restaurant, but like... just think about it, y/n, please? for me and Isaac? things have been so stagnant in our teams- good, but stagnant, and I really think it would look good for the coaches if we can get you two on board with this."

you stare into her pleading eyes, completely understanding why she's asking this from you. when you all elected Gia captain, she was the happiest you'd ever seen her. all weekend you heard her on the phone to every family member and friend she could reach, sharing her good news. at every training, she absolutely glows, and her eyes still tear up a bit when anyone casually calls her 'captain'. being able to share her passion for football through her role in the team even multiplied when her and Isaac started going out, and you really wish you still had the same spark for the sport. but spending one-on-one time with Jamie Tartt of all people? if he was literally any nicer to you, it would be an honour to train with someone you admire so much. but now that you know him just that little bit more, enduring any more frustration and anger-inducing strops from him would drain you more than the actual training.

"you never know, maybe he could surprise you," Gia suggests, almost reading your mind.

"he's nice to look at Gia, not nice to talk to." you sigh.

"I don't know about that, y/n, Isaac wouldn't be friends with him if he hadn't cleaned his act up."

"but he hasn't cleaned anything up with me. it really seems like he's just got something against me personally," you hang your head as you nervously fidget with your fingers. what Jamie said at Ola's got to you more than you'd care to admit, even to your best friend.

"give him a second chance, y/n. who knows, it might be fun?"

when you lie down in bed that night, you try to distract your mind with seemingly endless tiktoks, but your brain feels too busy to even just doom scroll. you place your phone on your bedside table, turning over and hugging the soft duvet closer to your chest. your mind races back and forth, the word 'fun' running circles through it. there's nothing fun about being disrespected by someone you once admired, but the thought of being able to shamelessly annoy that same person does sound quite enjoyable. you wouldn't mind getting the excuse to stare at his impressive build some more, that sounds quite fun, but your stomach cramps at the memory of Jamie catching you multiple times. he caught you staring at his arms, his shoulders, his lips. you feel like a mess, head dizzying at the mixed messages you're sending yourself.

after some deep breaths and counting an absurd amount of sheep, you finally manage to meet sleep, but when you wake up early the next morning, deep exhaustion hits you. after turning off your alarm as fast as you can, you yawn so wide your ears pop, groaning to yourself as you dangle your legs off the bed. the cold morning air hits your body as you further climb out of the duvet, and you groan as pain sets into your muscles. "fucking hell," you mutter to yourself, not expecting the first minutes of the day to be so strenuous already. dragging yourself from the bed, you shuffle towards your bedroom window, squinting as you pull the curtains open. the sky is overcast, but still bright, despite the autumn sun having only just risen. you lean your forehead against the window, hoping the slight condensation forces your body awake, but it isn't the glass which shocks you into being alert, it's Jamie standing outside talking to Isaac.

he's leaning against his car casually, the hood of his blue hoodie pulled over his head and tied tightly with the strings. unlike his usual obnoxious fashion sense, he's wearing dark, loose joggers and runners. you stare a little bit longer, quite enjoying the view, until you realise you have no idea why he's at your house again. reaching up, you unlatch your window, pushing it open and leaning over the windowsill. "good morning boys," you call down to them, interrupting their conversation. they both look around, looking for where your voice came from, "up here." you say flatly, waving an unenthusiastic hand.

"good morning!" Isaac chirps, genuinely in a good mood.

"nice hair!" Jamie says with a smirk on his face, and you curse to yourself as you duck out of the window quickly. you glance at the mirror next to your bed, seeing your pony tail hanging on for dear life as your hair has folded in on itself in your sleep. you tug the hair tie out of it, leaving your hair down and messy as you appear back in the window.

"what is this prick doing here?" you ask Isaac, and a sudden shiver runs over your body as the cold really starts to bite you.

"he's giving us a lift to work," Isaac replies.

"why?" you snap.

"because he's a nice person." Isaac snaps back, holding his hands out beside him.

"yeah, so hurry up, woman, don't make me late." Jamie snaps as he dismisses you with a wave of his hand. slamming the window shut, you move quickly between your room and the bathroom, getting ready as fast you possibly can. you decide to leave your hair down on your way to training, a new choice since you normally always have your hair tied up for training. dressed in simple yoga pants and a hoodie, you grab your phone and rush down stairs. your gym bag is exactly where you left it at the front door, and you don't care to check what's in it before picking it up and pulling open your front door.

Gia has now joined Isaac and Jamie at the latter's car as they all chat. it's more a heated discussion than a simple morning chat, but you choose to ignore it. Jamie faces you, still leaning against the side of his fancy car, whilst the other two stand with their backs to you. you let your eyes rake over Jamie properly this time, stunned by how good he manages to look in such a low-effort outfit. the bagginess contrasts his usual too-tight jeans and tops, and you quite enjoy knowing the muscles underneath his clothes without seeing them almost ripping their seams. when the door clicks closed behind you, Jamie's eyes flick away from your friends, landing on you. he blinks a few times, tipping his head back as he drags his eyes down your frame before coming back up to your face.

Jamie seems to be well aware you can see him staring, but he still doesn't tear his eyes away from yours. Gia and Isaac don't seem to notice him staring, continuing whatever explanation they're giving Jamie, but he's definitely not listening. time moves in slow motion as you stare at each other. his fingers come up to untie the string of his hood, and you see his jaw clench as his neck becomes visible. waiting patiently for his next move, your in a bit of a daze, never breaking eye contact with him, even when he stuffs his hands into the pocket at the front of his light blue hoodie. Jamie licks his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, and your head tilts down slightly as your eyes focus on the movement. he lifts his lips into a smirk, the change in expression making you quickly look back up at his eyes.

"nice hair," he finally speaks, his tone more genuine than mocking like it was when you were in the window. this comment pulls Isaac and Gia out of their conversation, turning to see you standing on your front step, bag over your shoulder. "oh, finally. let's go!" Gia chirps as she begins walking around the car, completely oblivious as to what she just missed between you and Jamie. Isaac follows, walking to the other side to get in the passenger seat. despite the small smile on your face, you roll your eyes, pushing at the wooden door to make sure it's locked before walking towards the car. you walk right up to Jamie, looking up at him with your head cocked to the side; "thank you, Jamie. nice hoodie."

giving you a tight-lipped smile, he mirrors your tilted head, letting his eyes flick down to your lips. quickly darting his eyes back up to yours, his pupils completely dilate, regretting his seemingly accidental glance. smiling at the reflex, you furrow your brows teasingly, waiting for him to say something, anything, a sarcastic comment or stupid joke, but you get nothing in response. instead, Jamie awkwardly looks down at his shoes, pushing himself off his car and stepping aside to pull open his door. "wait," you say, hand involuntarily reachiing out and wrapping around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. you gulp nervously, dropping his arm almost as quickly as you grabbed it, before sighing. "I just wanted to say sorry for what I said yesterday, I didn't mean it."

"oh, I'm sorry, y/n... would you mind just quickly remindin' me what exactly you said?" Jamie crosses his arms as he pushes your buttons.

"look, I'm apologising because I'm trying to be nice to you so please don't make this harder than it already is." you sigh, placing a hand on your hip and popping it.

"sorry love, I don't think I can," he leans closer to you, and the heat of your breaths so close together makes a little puff of steam in the cold air.

huffing an annoyed sigh through your nose, you suck in your cheeks before saying: "Jamie," you start, and his eyes are on yours expectantly, "I'm very sorry for calling you insecure,"

"and?" he drawls, not making any move to distance himself from you, and you almost lose your thought at the smell of his amazing cologne again.

"insecure and egotistical," you add, turning to look up at your bedroom window simply so you don't have to look at Jamie. the two of you stand in silence for a few long seconds, and your eyes finally meet his again as you wait for his response. "okay, thank you, y/n." his voice is the same low tone as it was on the pitch yesterday, when you had your hand pressed to his chest, and the sound pulls your stomach into an excited twist. he doesn't drop your eye contact, so you decide to be the one to do it, grunting at him as you pull open the car door, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. the sound of his low laugh is cut off as you drop into his low car, pulling the door closed behind you.

squished behind the driver's seat, you're face is hidden behind your gym bag. you're grateful for it, not brave enough to face either Gia nor Jamie in the rearview mirror. you settle your gaze out the window, the pout on your lips remaining there during the whole drive. you don't actually feel bad for what you said to Jamie last night, but if apologising means getting Gia off your back, then it's worth it. you want her to excel as captain, and you want to help her do that any way you can, even if that means spending more time with Jamie than you'd like to.

when the car finally pulls into AFC Richmond's car park, you're the last to get out. Gia and Isaac rushed inside to see your coaches, leaving you and Jamie behind.

"coaches duties, I guess," you mutter as you watch them race into the training center, saying it more to yourself than to Jamie. he has one hand resting on the roof of his car and the other reaching out towards you. with a grimace plastered on your face, you look up at him with an eyebrow raised, puzzled by his gesture; "what?" you snap.

"so much for feminism," Jamie groans, rolling his eyes and sighing before jutting his hand closer to you. as if he's a child trying to show you a snail on his hand, you move back, shaking your head at him with the same confusion on your face. ducking his head down with another sigh, he drops his hand for a moment, smacking it against his leg.

"your bag," he says, clearly irritated, before bringing his hand out again, "can I carry your bag for you?"

"what the fuck?" you laugh loudly, attracting the attention of other staff making their way into the building. Jamie lifts his hand to give them a curt wave, sending them an awkward smile. as you clutch your stomach with laughter, you turn away from Jamie, making your way towards the door.

"what?" he whines, following close in your step, "I'm being serious! I'm trynna be nice here."

"Jamie, since when is it feminist to assume a lady needs her bag carried?" you push through the doors, smiling to yourself, knowing this is driving him nuts.

glancing back at him, you see him walking with his shoulder slumped, a bewildered look on his face; "I'm so confused," his words are surprisingly genuine, no more bitter edge to his tone.

"Jamie," you smile at him, stopping in the middle of the hallway to face him, "I'm fucking with you. but, no, over my dead body will I ever let you touch my stuff." you continue walking, speeding up your pace as you approach the staircase which leads to the women's locker room.

"you say that, y/n, but I was literally on your couch last night so..."

with your back still turned to him, you hold your tongue, simply rolling your eyes as you choose not to bite back.

"woah, Jamie, you went home with her last night?" is the last thing you hear someone say before sprinting up the stairs, again, ignoring it. whatever Jamie replies to that question would only make you angry, so you decide to tune it out and be the bigger person.

as you make your way down another hallway where the ground is covered in fake grass, you bump into Roy. your eyes lighten up at the sight of him, raising a hand to wave at him, but when you see his smile turn smug, you drop your arm. you feel your cheeks go hot as you remember the words you two parted with yesterday, and your wide smile shrinks into a polite, tight-lipped one.

"how did your shit go?" Roy speaks when you meet each other in the middle of your path. you sigh, ignoring his question and looking at him with stern eyes; "do you think I should train with Jamie?" your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence, not because you're going to cry but because you just don't know what to do about the situation. Roy fills his cheeks with air before blowing out slowly, extremely slowly. he stares down the hallway for so long that you glance over your shoulder to make sure there's not a ghost standing there.

"Roy, I'm going to be late to training if-" you whisper, but he's quick to interrupt you.

"yes."

"yeah? really?"

"yes."

"why?" you challenge his deadpan answers, crossing your arms over your chest and furrowing your brow at him.

taking a deep breath in through his nose, you're actually quite nervous for his answer. you're well aware they haven't always been the best of friends, and Isaac's told you all about their old rivalry, but he's you also know they've managed to move on from that by now.

"because..." he starts, dragging the word out in a growl, "as much as I hate to say this, I think he needs real competition with someone in order to be good at football."

"why do I have to be that competition? can't you just use someone from his own team,"

"sadly, I can't personally fight him, and he's too much of a team player now."

"so I'm gonna be his fucking punching bag so you guys can score goals?" you suddenly start getting warm, and not in the nice way. "Gia said this would somehow help her as our captain but now you're saying I'm basically just doing Jamie a favour," you continue.

"not entirely," Roy breathes out, staring at you with the hope that you'll let it go and agree, but you put up more of a fight.

"tell me what's going on."

"fine." he grunts, "first of all, Ted's made Jamie all nice and kind by giving him a second chance, so he's not as intense on the field as he used to be. sometimes they need him to be a prick, just not to his own teammates. so, after seeing you guys rile each other up at training yesterday I thought it could be a good idea to have you bring back that fire in him."

with your mouth dropped open, you stare up at Roy while he speak completely bewildered by his explanation. you consider protesting, since this is probably the most consecutive words he's ever said to you, you let him finish.

"second, Gia thinks you might need the same kind of thing," he stutters through his statement, clearly wary of your response. but when he sees your unwavering expression, he continues; "I mean, I do see where she's coming from. she wants you to enjoy football again, and she knows you have fun with the more aggressive parts of it,"

"fun... fuck's sake," you mumble to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Roy ignores your interjection; "y/n, I think in asking you to do her a favour, Gia is also doing you one. she wants you to play the best you can, and you want her to succeed the best she can. don't even think about Tartt in all of this, he'll be just fine without or without you."

you chew the inside of your cheeks, staring up at Roy with a complete lack of emotion. your mind, however, is running on high, and you feel like an overheating motor as you think over his points. you want to ask what Jamie thinks about this whole idea, but you decide against it; this isn't for Jamie, this is for Gia. you want her to be the best captain she can be, and you want to be the best footballer you can be. you know your passion has worn off with the stress of playing for Richmond, and as much as you don't want to agree that this will help you, you know it's true. you know very well that you need this as much as Gia needs you, and you hate to think of having to leave the team just because you couldn't do your best on the pitch. the deep need for football has dissipated over the years, but your want for it has returned.

"fine."

———

yaaay part two! finally! i can't wait for the all the juicy shit coming up! i hope you enjoyed reading, i'm always open for any and all feedback -- my ask is open!

also sorry if there's typos i didn't get to properly correct the second part much love <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie fartt #imagine #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x you #enemies to lovers #phil dunster #jamiefartt

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