#i already said it to you but i needed to reblog it ofc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sungbeam · 2 months 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)

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haikyu-mp4 · 8 months ago

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hi omg i love your works sm !! each one is so cute and i love your dialogue for the characters 🫶 i've read most of them but i'll be going back to reread and reblog them bcos u deserve the love 🤍

i wanted 2 ask if ur requests were open ? it's okay if they aren't ofc !! but i had this idea earlier about dentist / orthodontist iwaizumi or oikawa ! and i've been looking thru the hq writers that i've reblogged from n u came up ! the idea is pretty broad but i was thinking more of a build up from patient-dentist (?) to lovers, smth like that ! idk if ure up for it then do ur magic but otherwise i hope u have a great day and i'm looking forward to reading more from u 💞💞💞

Unusual affection

thank you so much for your love!! I never wrote much AU before so this was such a fun idea and I hope I did it justice<3

word count; 1353 – gn!reader, dentist Oikawa AU, patient-dentist to lovers, suggestive

You're not so fond of going to the dentist. Luckily, your teeth didn’t give you many problems growing up, but your parents were urging you to get a check-up appointment after you moved away to a new city. Better to establish a dentist before the issues come up, they would say.

So you did, you made an appointment with dentist Oikawa Tooru and made your way to his office a few weeks later. His waiting list wasn’t exactly short. Not that you had to wonder why for long because…

that is one gorgeous man!

“You need to floss more regularly,” he added as if it just came naturally for him, which it probably did. You lay on the seat as he looked over all the basic stuff, rinsing and picking at your teeth. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see yourself attracting him very much with your mouth wide open and lips scrubbed dry already, so you just accepted your fate.

“I’m not really a dancer but I’ll try,” Oikawa stopped what he was doing and the swivel chair he sat on slowly turned towards you. That’s like something Makki would say, he thought. And that’s not a compliment.

“How old are you, 10?” he asked but quickly cleared his throat when the secretary seemed to eye him from her desk. She always said he shouldn’t have an attitude with customers.

“Some would say I’m a 10 out of 10!” you responded, joyfully watching as his patience wore thin. Oh, how fun to find cracks in that perfect exterior.

He sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the monitor. You started looking at the ceiling, counting the dots and lines in the ugly pattern until you lost count and started over. Is that a headache creeping up on you?

Finally, Oikawa rolled back over. You blinked a couple of times to shake off the view of the ceiling and actually focus on him. “Open.” Wouldn’t mind hearing him command you like that in another setting, you thought, suddenly avoiding eye contact again but still doing as he said. Dentists are not supposed to be this attractive. “Your wisdom teeth on this side, do they hurt?” he asked, pointing to the cheek he was referring to.

You thought about it, humming in thought. “Yes, especially after eating. Lots of food gets stuck in there too.”

“We can set up another appointment to get them removed,” he informed you. “It should be mostly covered by insurance if I say it’s necessary.”

You nodded, licking your lips as they felt so dry from his gloved hands running over them. “Will…” he was about to stand up but stopped for a moment to listen to you. “…you be doing that?”

A small humorous sound left his lips, and it sounded so melodic you were in a trance. “That could be arranged.”

Two weeks later, you’re back at the reception of your dentist's office, asking for Oikawa. You agreed to do the procedure with a local sedative, as you didn’t have that many close friends in this city yet that could pick you up, so two assistants were currently making sure you wouldn’t feel anything around your mouth for the next hours. Unfortunately, this called for you to stay quiet, and you were honestly just excited to see Dr. Hottie again.

Your prayers were answered, and after they left you to soak in the numb feeling in your mouth for about ten minutes, Oikawa walked through the door. “Hey there, little dancer.” he greeted you.

“Hi!” you cooed, but it sounded odd when you couldn’t feel your lips. You frowned, trying to look down at your lips for a moment before giving up. Oikawa clicked his tongue from where he watched you, shaking his head before putting gloves on. Everything he did seemed so elegant, but you had a sense there was a dorky side to him.

“It might hurt a bit, but just tap me if you need me to adjust, okay?” he informed you, looking into your eyes for an answer.

You nodded, sucking in a quick breath. His eyes were pretty. Swirly, like chocolate ice cream. “Yes, I got it.” You bit your top lip, sheepishly continuing. “My safeword is toothbrush.”

Oikawa seemed to chuckle under his breath, he hesitated to humour you but still gave in. “Good to know. I was half expecting a stupid joke about tap dancing.” he hummed before picking up the first tool he needed and swiftly getting to it. It wasn’t very fortunate, to have him stare at your face as your cheeks flushed red, but it was worth witnessing the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

The procedure didn’t take too long. He struggled with the lower tooth, so an assistant came in to help him and the two conversed like you weren’t even there. When it was finally done, Oikawa pressed a button so you were adjusted into a seated position. You let your lips run frantically over your chapped lips, reaching for the small cup of water he provided you. And had you not been busy with the aftermath of the procedure, you would have noticed the way he watched you for a moment too long before getting up and throwing away his gloves.

Oikawa knew it was inappropriate. His breath shouldn’t have stuttered when he saw you in the waiting room for the check-up, he shouldn’t have sent you a small wave before calling your name to let you know he was ready for you, and he shouldn’t have put his hand on your back while leading you to his station. He just found you entertaining, that’s what he told himself, but he definitely looked off his game when you finally sat down for him to check the stitches from the procedure.

“Everything alright there, doc?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa waved his hand as if it was nothing, laughing under his breath.

“No worries, I was just-” he pursed his lips before pointing at you with the little tool in his hand. “Do you like pasta?”

Your jaw loosened in disbelief. “Pasta? I guess I do, is that bad for my teeth or something?” you asked a bit awkwardly.

“There’s this new Italian restaurant down the street. You should go there,” he said. “With me, I mean.”

Oikawa’s penthouse apartment was pretty nice, so you two basically spent most of your time there after a couple of dates led to stumbling through your front door with your lips locked together. He had complained about the small bed and creaking floor of your apartment, which led him to take you home to his place the morning after.

Now you were sitting on the marble countertop in the bathroom with Oikawa standing between your legs, and it was similar to something you had dreamed up before when imagining life with a boyfriend. The difference was, you weren’t kissing or anything like that. No, your mouth was wide open as your handsome boyfriend checked your teeth before bed after you brushed them. “This is a bit unusual, don’t you think?” you managed to say, making him pout as you accidentally left a small bite on his pointer finger.

“You’re a bit unusual, but here we are,” he mumbled, but still hummed in appreciation at what he observed. “I knew the electric toothbrush would help.”

Finally, he leaned an arm on each side of you on the counter so you could have a kiss, which you’d say was a much better reward for being good at the dentist than the ones you would get when you were younger. “You truly are a genius, Tooru.” you cooed sarcastically. He kissed you again and hummed, savouring the aftertaste of your toothpaste. The expensive kind.

“Maybe I’m such a good dentist that my kisses clean your teeth,” he said, and it shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t be charming. It was cheesy, made no sense and created some disturbing mental images. But you savoured it nonetheless, accepting every kiss he gave you and returning it with the same sweetness.

Luckily, this dental nerd is all yours.

masterlist

#ask-mp4 #hq #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa

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bokutosbabe · 16 days ago

Note

hiii idk if this is where im supposed to put the spotify wrapped request thingy LMAO😭

but my top artist is lana del rey and my top song is apocalypse by cas :))

ofc!! i’m fine with either comments or asks being sent in— i have a spreadsheet to make sure i get everyone!

if your top artist was lana del rey & your top song was apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, i'd pair you with...

michael kaiser

જ⁀♡⊹｡° come out and haunt me

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event :)

♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, situationship, reader has feelings for kaiser, closed off kaiser

♡ synopsis — michael kaiser has built his world up from nothing, and he can't allow you to be the one that makes it crumble...no matter how much he wishes he could.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the glow of the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. They painted the room in soft, shifting colors—an amber hue that felt as fleeting as he was.

Kaiser was leaning against the doorway, shirt half-buttoned, his usual smirk absent for once. His gaze was fixed on you, unreadable and distant, like he was already somewhere else entirely.

“What's wrong with you?” he asked, the words hanging thick in the air like smoke.

You turned to look at him, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words refused to come. How were you supposed to explain the weight sitting on your chest? The way every moment with him felt like holding onto something that was already slipping through your fingers?

“I’m just tired,” you said instead, your voice quieter than you intended.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, his movements always so fluid, so self-assured. Sitting beside you, he reached for your hand, his touch both familiar and unfamiliar. You wanted to lean into him, to find comfort in his presence, but something held you back.

“You’re lying,” he said softly, his tone almost teasing, but there was an edge to it—a crack in the façade he always wore so effortlessly.

You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself instead. “What do you want me to say, Michael?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice sharper now. “Anything other than nothing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The truth was, you didn’t know how to tell him what you were feeling—that every kiss, every touch, every stolen moment felt like the end of the world. That being with him felt like standing in the eye of a storm, calm and chaotic all at once.

How do you tell the man that built himself up from nothing, the man that finds pleasure in you every week, the man that you know has no room in his life for love...that you may be falling for him?

“Why do you always do this?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady. “Why do you pull me in like this and then push me away?”

He flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said after a long silence, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “You have to know that.”

“Then stop,” you said, turning to look at him. “Stop treating me like I’m just another thing you can walk away from when it gets too real.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might actually say something—something that would make it all make sense. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“I wish I could be what you need,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you looked away, unable to bear the sight of him anymore.

The city lights outside the window blurred into a mess of colors, and you couldn’t help but think that this was what it felt like to lose him—to love him.

A quiet apocalypse.

ugh i love this song so much

i hope you like it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #bllk #blue lock #airy answers asks :)#michael kaiser #kaiser #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk michael kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock kaiser

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ramp-it-up · 8 months ago

Text

II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part

—--

You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago.

Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind.

He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.

“What?”

He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.

“You hungry?”

You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.

“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”

Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all.

“Just checking.”

After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.

“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”

He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat.

“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”

Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.

“No worries at all, Buttercup.”

His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.

Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.

“I want…”

That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either.

“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!”

You were as happy as a clam.

“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!”

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”

“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.”

You grinned at him and he shook his head.

“Still living dangerously, I see.”

You raised your chin.

“I’m still living,” you replied.

An understanding passed between you.

“Amen.”

Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.

“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”

He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.

“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”

Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.

“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”

You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”

Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.

“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”

You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.

“Sy, that’s sweet.”

He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.

“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”

His eyes ran over your body posessively.

“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.

“Got your food here!”

Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?

“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”

You reached out and arranged an errant curl.

“Looks good on you, Sy.”

He just grinned and then turned to get the food.

Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”

He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.

“What the hell. You only live once, right?”

“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”

—

You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.

Il tuo fedel

Sospira ognor

Cessa, crudel

Tanto rigor

Ooh

“You ready?”

You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.

“Let’s go.”

Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened.

“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”

“Yeah.”

“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”

Your heart clenched.

“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”

There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.

“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.”

He looked at you long and hard.

“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”

“What?”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”

“Unhhunh.”

Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.

“I am so sorry Sy.”

“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”

Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.

“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”

Sy’s voice lowered.

“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”

“Scott. Yeah…”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.

“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”

He saw the look on your face.

“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”

Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.

“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”

He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom.

“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”

You needed his answer like air.

“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”

You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.

“What about you? How has your life been?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”

Sy winced. You chuckled.

“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.”

You shook your head at your gullibility.

“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.

“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”

Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”

You smiled at him.

“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”

You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.

“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”

You looked him in the eye again.

“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”

“I’m glad, Buttercup.”

Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.

“You sharing this good life with anyone?”

Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.

“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”

Sy seemed to let out a breath.

“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Oh.”

Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.

“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”

“Hmmm.”

You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate.

“Please look at me Buttercup.”

You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.

“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”

Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.

“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”

—-

The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?

“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”

“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”

He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.

“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”

You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.

“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”

He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.

“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”

Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.

“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”

You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.

Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away.

“Mmmhm.”

Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control.

“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”

“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.”

You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice.

Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.

“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”

And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.

“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”

Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.

Holy fuck, was he a goner.

You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.

“Look who’s getting spicy no-”

Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.

“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”

You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?

Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.

“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”

Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”

Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.

“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”

You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone.

“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”

Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more.

“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”

Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.

“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”

Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.

“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”

You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most.

He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.

‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’

He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”

“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”

Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.

“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”

Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“Why?”

He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.

“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”

The stutter did you in.

“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”

Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”

“Go for it.”

You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.

Sy looked up at you, offended.

“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”

He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy.

“So fucking good for me.”

“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”

“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”

“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”

“I love this pretty little pussy.”

His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.

“Syyyyyy!”

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”

He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.

Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.

“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”

Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.

“C’mere, Baby…”

You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing.

It was your turn to pleasure him.

“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”

You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.

“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”

Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.

“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”

His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.

“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”

“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”

Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing.

“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”

You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.

“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”

“Ummhnnghhh!”

There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.

“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”

Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.

“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”

He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.

“That was…”

You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.

“That was hot.”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“I love you, Buttercup.”

There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.

Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.

“It’s getting chilly out.”

He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.

“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”

You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.

Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.

“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”

“Jacob Syverson!”

You swatted at his chest.

“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.”

He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening?

In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips.

“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”

It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.

“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Okay.”

Why were you so breathless?

Sy was anxious at letting you go.

“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”

You smirked at him.

“Alright.”

Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.

“G’night, Buttercup."

He licked those sinful lips of his.

"Sweet dreams.”

He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”

----

Next part Here

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musings-of-a-rose · 20 days ago

Text

A New Life - Part 2

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

A New Life Masterlist

The next morning, Marcus wakes early and I help him slide him armor on. I step back and watch him tighten the latches on the side before looking at me, his arms outstretched to his sides.

“Looks good? All latched?”

“Mmhmm,” I tap my chin with my finger. Quickly, I reach up and take the leather barrette from my hair, sliding it under his armor over his chest. I gently place my hand over his armor where it lays and look up at him, his eyes already on me.

“Be safe,” I whisper.

“You as well. Remember what I said.” He reaches out, hesitating a moment before cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, his eyes searching my face. But then he blinks, dropping his hand from me. He turns and strides away, disappearing through the flaps of the tent.

Within the hour, all of the troops move out.

It’s quiet. Every sound in the forest making me jump with anticipation. I try to keep busy, cleaning Marcus’s tent, making sure his clothes are cleaned in the washbin, whatever I can find to keep my mind busy and off the fact that Marcus is out there somewhere, having arrows fired at him, swords swung at his head.

Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and I pop outside, walking straight over to Caius as soon as I did a quick scan of the area. We walk to the edge of the camp, waiting by the back end just in case we need to make a quick getaway. I sing and talk to Caius, trying to calm his nerves as he kicks at the ground. What feels like an eternity later, and somehow, no time at all, we hear voices and footsteps, horses pounding the ground on the other side of camp. I slink back, trying to blend in with Caius as I watch the makeshift gate open, soldiers and horses storming through it.

I breathe a sigh of relief at their armor, immediately knowing it was ours. Rome’s? Whatever country I belong to now. As the soldiers move throughout the camp, I can see many wounds, some soldiers bringing back goods and others just trying to make it to their beds. A very familiar chestnut mount strides through the crowd and my breath catches in my throat as I see him.

Marcus, sitting atop his horse, his hand clutching his arm as blood drips down him.

I take Caius and steer him towards our tent, quickly navigating the ground between us and toss his reins over a low tree branch. I turn and see Marcus sliding off his horse, his eyes full of pain but his expression not betraying it, aside from a slightly awkward landing. He heads straight into the tent.

“Cornelia?” He yells, worry in his tone. Concern.

I run, flinging open the flaps and Marcus spins, relief washing over him at the sight of me. I run to him, but stop just short of his massive frame.

“You’re hurt.”

Marcus shrugs. “A flesh wound. It will heal.” The medic comes into the tent then, a simple sewing kit in his hands. I extend my hand, telling him to give it to me. The soldier hesitates and looks at Marcus, who gives him a nod of consent. The soldier passes me the kit and a jug of wine and leaves the tent.

I turn to Marcus. “Can I help you from your armor?”

“Please.”

We manage to get the armor off without disturbing his gash and I can see just how dirty he is. Mud and dried blood cake his body, his hair matted with it and sweat. He’s still so gorgeous. I grab a small bowl and fill it with water, taking a cloth to clean away the area around the gash. It’s deep but not too bad. A simple stitch should suffice.

“I..I’ve never sewn skin before,” I confess to him as I thread my needle.

“How are your sewing skills?”

“I used to make my own togas and pallas. Embroidery too.”

He nods. “You’ll be fine. Make sure to pour the wine over it first.”

I do as he says and he hisses, his arm flexing in pain. Somehow, I manage to stitch him up, distracting him with random questions to keep the pain at bay. I finish and wrap his arm, watching as he circles his shoulder a couple times to make sure it stays in place. He looks up at me, his eyes big and dark. Unable to help myself, I cup his face, brushing some dirt from his cheek.

“I was so worried about you, Marcus. I was afraid I’d lose you.”

He places his hand over mine, his warmth seeping through me. “It will take more than a sword to my arm to take me from this world. Especially since you saved my life.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” I cock my head to the side.

He points to his chest, where I just now realize there’s a nasty tear in the fabric. “An arrow came for me. Tried to take my life. But the metal and leather from your barrette stopped the tip from piercing my skin.” He pulls down his tunic enough for me to see the bruise, but no cut. “If you had not put it there, I would not be here.” He stands up, my hand falling to his broad chest as he looks down at me, a heat spreading throughout me. “Thank you.” He cups his large hand to my cheek, his eyes moving between mine for a moment before he moves in slowly, giving me time to protest.

Like I would.

His lips press to mine, soft and gentle, but an urgency behind their movement. His hand slides around the back of my head, holding me to him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. A small moan escapes me and he deepens the kiss. My fingers twist in his tunic, desperately trying to get him closer to me. I can feel him pressing against my stomach, hard and wanting, and my body lights with an electricity I hadn’t felt in years.

Even though it kills me to do so, I break the kiss, lingering for a moment before I look at him, his eyes dark, a fire brimming in them. I take his hand and guide him towards our mat. Before I can lay down, he pulls me to him, kissing me with such sweetness and care. He pulls back this time, looking down at me as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His hand continues down my neck and to my shoulder. Gently, he tugs my palla from my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor.

“Lift your arms.”

I do as he says, my entire body alight with anticipation of his touch. He grips my tunic at my hips and pulls it over my head, letting it follow my palla. He takes a step back, letting his eyes slowly roam down my bare body. Not even my late husband took such time for me, almost reverence in his gaze.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” his voice is low, a slight rasp to it. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Then he reaches behind him and yanks his tunic over his body in one swift motion, his underwear quickly following.

Gods he’s gorgeous. Strong and toned from his many years of battle, his body has many scars and marks littering it, some new from this most recent battle and others faded to white lines. A single curl falls across his forehead, his eyes soft but full of desire. He pulls me to him, the warmth from his body spreading over mine, an excited tingling firing throughout me as he kisses me. His hand roams down, stopping to squeeze and touch my breast. I gasp when he pinches my nipple, the sensation zapping straight between my thighs.

He gently guides me to the mat, helping me to lay on my back before he lays his body over mine, my legs falling open to give him more space. He kisses me, his lips trailing down my neck to suck on a spot that has me gasping again. He pulls back, shoulder muscles flexing, his eyes on my face as he presses into me.

“Oh!” Is all I can manage. He’s larger than my husband was, but he’s taking care, slowly moving his hips to allow me to adjust.

Once his hips are flush against mine, he studies my face. “Are you alright?”

I nod. “Yes, just…you feel so good, Marcus.”

He smiles, a soft smile, tucking some hair behind my ear again. He moves, pressing deep into me before hitching my leg over his hip. Our grunts and moans fill the tent, Marcus’s hand sliding up to hold mind, our fingers linking together. The warmth in my body builds fast and then explodes, his name rolling off my tongue in praise. Another press of his hips and he grunts, eyes closed in bliss. He drops his head to my chest for several moments, practically purring when I run my fingers through his hair, something I had been dying to do since the moment I first saw him. He rolls off me with a hiss, pulling the blanket over us. His hand settles on my stomach and I turn my head to watch him in the darkness.

“No regrets?” He asks me, worry in his voice.

I cup his cheek. “Just that it took us this long to get here.”

As we continue to travel, Marcus and I spend as much time as is possible together. Sometimes that’s in the form of him waking me as he presses into me, a hand clamped over my mouth so I don’t wake the camp. Other times it’s simply a meal, chatting about anything and everything. He has so many amazing stories, some sad and others happy or fantastical. He also rides by me, sometimes racing ahead of his troops, our adrenaline taking us behind the closest tree as I lift my tunic for him.

He has also taken to teaching me archery, or expanding on my limited knowledge. My father had snuck me a bow and arrows when I was little and I practiced in secret where I could. My deceased husband had even built a little private range for me and hired a tutor. But once he passed, those things went away and I had to hide my skill.

I’ll admit some of my favorite times are when he comes back from battle, covered in blood and dirt, fueled by fighting. The first time he did this, he came into the tent where I had prepared a meal. I turned, only managing to get his name out as he stomped across the tent, eyes dark and full of fire. He kissed me hard, gripping my hips roughly and spun me around, bending me over the table as he pulled himself free, pounding into me hard enough that everything on the table clattered to the floor. He wound his fingers in my hair and yanked me up, holding me to his chest as he fucked me, whispering dark and dirty things in my ear, grunting as I clenched around him, his own release just behind mine. He had apologized profusely once he saw how sore I was, a few bruises left behind. But I begged him to do it again, and he definitely has delivered.

But today is different. He’s on his horse next to me, quiet. Pensive. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words from him the entire ride. It’s not until we’ve made camp and were sitting at his table eating that he speaks. He sets down his fork and clears his throat.

“I have something to discuss with you.”

I set my fork down as well, dabbing my mouth with a napkin before turning all of my attention to him. He looks…nervous. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath. “We are nearing the end of our campaign.”

My eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s good news, right?”

He nods. “Yes. But it’s more than that. We all get to go home. Some will return, others may not. But home for me, is the capital. Rome.”

“You live in the capital? That makes sense. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He places his upturned hand on the table, bending his fingers to ask for mine. I acquiesce, his skin always feeling warm and comforting. His eyes bore into mine and I feel like he’s reading me again.

“I want to give you another chance to leave.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “You…you want me to leave?”

“No! No, I do not. But the capital is not…it is a great city to be sure, but it is also very dangerous. I want to give you a chance to go and live a life away from it.”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. My place is by your side. If…if you’ll have me.” My throat feels tight as I choke back tears.

With his free hand, Marcus leans closer and cups my face. “I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. Is that what you truly want? You do not owe me anything.”

“It is. I…I love you, Marcus.”

His eyes start to water, but then he swallows hard to stop them. “You do?”

I nod furiously. “I have for some time, I think.”

With the hand on my cheek, he pulls me to him, kissing me softly. “I love you too.”

We make out for a few minutes before he pulls back, taking my hand again. “As much as I want to have you, we have something else to discuss.”

“Oh?”

“Since you have decided to stay with me, I…just know this is not the way I would have done it, but your safety is everything to me, and the capital is dangerous. The Emperors-”

“Marcus?”

He takes another deep breath. “I think we should be married before we reach Rome.”

Marriage. That is what’s causing him to not quite look me in the eye? Like he’s afraid I’ll say no? Or afraid I’ll say yes?

“Why is it important we do it before Rome?”

He leans in to my ear, pretending like he’s going to kiss me there, but instead whispers. “The Emperors can be…dangerous. They like to play games and they like to take spoils of war. If you are not married, they may command you to join them.”

“Oh.”

He pulls back, keeping his face only inches from mine, his eyes large and wide. “If this were not so, I would court you, ask you to marry me in a romantic way. But our time is running out and I need to keep you safe. So..what is your answer?”

I look into his eyes, a small smile on my lips. “Marcus, I would’ve married you the day you rescued me. But now? After getting to know you, falling in love with you? I would marry you behind the latrine.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling. “So that’s a yes?”

“Yes!”

We had a simple wedding ceremony, his trusted captain marrying us. Marcus slides a hastily made iron ring onto my finger and I do the same for him.

“It’s not much, but I promise to get you something nice when we reach Rome.”

I don’t care about the ring personally, but I can see it means a lot to him. Also, he is the General of Rome, so I’m sure he has to have a certain appearance. The closer we get to the city, the more anxious his eyes get, and the closer by his side he keeps me. We stop in the Port of Ostia, and Marcus escorts me to a room at a nearby inn. It’s been what feels like ages since I slept in an actual bed and not a roll. This one isn’t the best but it’s better than the ground for sure. The next day while we’re eating breakfast, a soft knock raps on the door. I look at Marcus who has a small smile on his face as he gets up to answer it. A person enters in a hooded cloak, hesitating just inside the room while Marcus closes the door. As soon as he does, the hood comes back and reveals an absolutely stunning woman, her golden hair twisted half up on her head in gorgeous braids, her golden tunic forming to her body.

“General Acacius. I am happy to see you alive.”

“Likewise, Princess Lucilla.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it and I’m not a tiny bit jealous about it. Nope. Not me. Marcus crosses the room and offers me his hand and I take it, standing up from my chair.

“Princess Lucilla, may I introduce Cornelia, my wife.”

Lucilla glances at Marcus for a moment before looking at me, her eyes scanning down my body and back up. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Pretty thing? What am I, 14? Marcus squeezes my hand ever so slightly, my signal to be nice. “Thank you, Princess, but I’m sure that title belongs to you.” To my utter surprise, she laughs, her head falling back with it.

“You didn’t tell me she was witty? You’ll fit right in at court. Just..be careful, with your carefully worded insults, yes?”

I nod. “Understood.”

She pulls a lavender spring from somewhere and holds it beneath her nose, taking a small sniff as she studies me. “I think my seamstress can have her new tunic sewn fast enough. It may not be perfect but it will be fine for the ceremony.”

I turn to look at Marcus. “What celebration? What’s going on?”

Marcus sighs. “When I return to the city after a campaign, the Emperors like to make a..spectacle. I wish they wouldn’t, but they request I ride through the city on a chariot, in my finest armor, and receive my laurels.”

Lucilla turns to him. “General Acacius here sent for me to help you prepare.”

I turn to Lucilla now. “Help me? For what? And why would he ask you?”

She looks at Marcus again. “Have you never spoken of me?”

Marcus shrugs. “Never saw the need to.”

Lucilla turns back to me. “Your husband and I have known each other for a long time. I trust him fully and he me.” She glances at Marcus who nods. She leans in a little closer to me, speaking quietly. “We are both for a free Rome.”

“Is Rome not already free?”

She chuckles, but not in a mean way. “My dear, you have a lot to learn. Which is why he asked me here. To dress you for this ceremony, yes, but to tell you more about what to do or say, or what not to do or say in the capital. Especially as a woman. It is a beautiful city, but it is dangerous.”

I look at Marcus who takes my hands, giving them a little squeeze. “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I was afraid someone would hear me. The world is full of spies. The Princess isn’t technically allowed outside of the city.”

I look at Lucilla, who is smirking slightly. “Oh? So you’re a rebel?”

She chuckles. “In the eyes of the Emperors, I was born one. As my father was Marcus Aurelius.”

Now that name I had heard of and my eyes go wide. “Well I can see why they’d feel…threatened.”

She nods and then claps her hands together. “Now, shall we begin?”

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thir10th · 7 months ago

Note

I literally love the way you write emily! could you please do something like Morgan or anyone on the team points out how clingy you are around her so you get insecure, but Emily makes it better? thank you💕

hi anon 👋 ofc i can!! i love this concept ❤️

summary: Morgan says something that upsets you, thankfully Emily knows exactly what to do (basically the ask lol) tw: smut, shower sex, oral sex, idk i'm tired i think that's all a/n: i'm trying to do your requests, like you guys already know i can't promise i will make them all, but you're still very welcome to try! Like & reblog as always <3

You had spent a whole week on LA on this last case, more than 3 women had been murdered before you caught the unsub, which means you desperately needed a long night sleep, preferably wrapped in your girlfriend's arms.

You're sitting on the window seat, keeping the one next to it free for her, she smiles when her eyes meet yours, and sits next to you, you surround her with your arm, kissing her cheek, she moves to peck your lips as well

"hey baby" you whisper, your mouth close to hers

"hey" she answers with the sweetest voice, you can sense she also wants to get home as soon as possible.

Your other hand wraps around her leg, squeezing it

"I'm gonna go for a tea, ok? you want one?" she asks getting up, wrapping herself off of you "yeah that'd be nice" you answer, the silliest smile on your face.

"ugh, you two get a room" Morgan's voice makes you lift your head, the smile instantly erased form your face.

"What do you mean?" you ask, he has never pointed you two out before, so it surprises you

"c'mon, can't you spend 2 seconds without touching her? we were just at the airport and you were all over each other, i could not handle someone being so clingy" you're too baffled to say anything. Clingy? you had never thought about it, you loved your girlfriend so much it came natural to you hugging her and touching her, the possibility that she didn't like it had never crossed your mind.

Morgan couldn't be bothered about it, he put his headphones back on as soon as he dropped the unfriendly comment.

"there you go baby" Emily said, handing you your cup, you take it, a small smile to thank her, and you lay back to the window.

As much as you're trying you can't seem to get Morgan's comment out of your head, you never wanted to suffocate Emily, you just wanted her to feel loved, maybe she was just ashamed to tell you how uncomfortable it made her.

You sip your tea, looking out the window, "hey" Emily grabs your cup when you're finished and opens her arm offering you to lay on it

"I think I'm gonna try to sleep now, ok?" you tell her, and turn around to lay your head on the window.

You can tell se knows there's something going on, she frowns, you can feel her stare, but finally let's it go, and gets back to her book.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

When you finally get back to your apartment, Emily throws her bag away, and you do the same, moving to sit on the couch to take your shoes off more comfortably.

"Well, I desperately need a shower, you coming?" she asks as she takes her shirt off

"Yeah, you go" you don't even look at her to answer, trying to focus on untying your shoes, you keep your head down.

Emily stands on the middle of the hallway, she looks at you, raising an eyebrow, now she knows there's definitely something going on.

"You're not gonna shower, love?" she asks, a concerned tone on her voice "Yeah, sure, you can go first tho"

Your girlfriend was too stunned to speak. It wasn't like you to turn down the offer of showering together, you couldn't remember a time when you had said no to a shower with Emily, specially after a case.

She would always lather your back soothingly, you didn't even always have sex (although it was quite common), sometimes you would simply enjoy the warm water stream, you would take care of each other, wrap yourselves into a warm embrace that could last minutes, and she would always lend you her clothes afterwards, there was no other feeling better than going to sleep clean and fresh into your girlfriend's clothes, wrapped around each other. What do you mean you don't want to shower with her?

"So, you will wait for me to shower, and you will go after me? first on the plane, now this? Baby, is something wrong? Did i do something to upset you?" you lift your head to look at her after getting rid of your shoes, her big brown eyes reflect the worry on her voice, she looks to you carefully to see what is going on.

"no, it's nothing, i just... i just don't want to be too clingy, you know?" you finally reveal. Her mouth tenses up, and she bites her lip. You know your girlfriend way too well to know that's one of her classic faces, it's the one that says -ok now i see-. She walks up to you, sitting right next to you on the couch, places her hand on your thigh soothingly.

"Baby, who told you that?" you don't wanna say, you don't want her to get upset too, but the way she runs her palm over your leg to soothe your worries makes you want to tell her everything she asked for.

"Well, Morgan, he suggested i could be suffocating you" when you say it aloud it sounds ridiculous, since when do you care about what Morgan says? About what any man has to say about your relationship? His words had just sunk into you way more than you could've expected.

"what did he say?" she licks her lips out of impotence "Because after a whole career on the fbi i'm considering murder just now" you laugh it off, blinking to avert the tears pickering your eyes.

"he said if i was his girlfriend, he would feel suffocated by how clingy i am, and how i can't keep my hands off of you" her eyes scan your face, runs her hand up and down your thigh "ok, i'm sure gonna kill Morgan tomorrow" you both chuckle "well he is kind of right, i mean we can barely spend an hour off of each other" you say trying to make sense out of the situation

"ok, so you are clingy, so what?" her voice raises a bit towards the end, a couple of notes higher, you can't help but to smile, you think it's too cute.

"I love touching you" the hand that was resting on your thigh now gets higher to rest on your waist, her other hands moves up to your neck, her thumb caressing your face "I love it when you touch me" her face gets closer, the tip of her nose brushing against your cheek, you close your eyes relaying on the touch

"I love feeling you close" she moves to sit closer to you on the couch (if that is even possible at this point) her hand keeps moving up and down your back, she kisses your cheek, "and i don't care about what anyone has to say about that, i don't want you to care about it ether" her words sink into you, everything is basically forgotten.

"I want you to touch me, to feel me" she moves your hand, previously resting on your side, she places it on her waist, and you take it upon yourself to grab her face with your other hand.

Closing the small space between you, your lips collapse in a deep kiss, Emily holds you. The kiss is quite sensual. Emily takes her time and eases your mouth open, slowly pushing in her skilled tongue into your mouth, but to your displeasure, the kiss breaks.

"C'mon, baby, come shower with me" she says standing up, holding your hand, you get up too, grabbing on to her for support "lead the way" you say, a grin on her face.

Emily opens the water stream, letting the warm fog fill the bathroom, you try to catch Emily's lips to kiss her again, she offers a very fast for your liking peck that you try to prolong, but she's faster to grab the neck of your shirt, unbuttoning the buttons one by one, and taking it off.

Her eyes never leaving yours, she kisses your collarbone as she unclasps your bra, you reciprocate the action, doing the same with hers, Emily sighing in relief as her own restricting bra was undone.

The soft trail of small kisses on your collarbone soon moving southern to your sternum, she reacher your left boob, her soft lips feel warm on your smooth skin, never getting exactly anywhere, she removes your pants along with your underwear, and you do the same with hers.

You just want to jump in the shower with your girlfriend as fast as possible and forget the day.

She slowly pulled you into the shower behind the hot water, instantly calming your tingling body. Emily instantly pulled you into a hug as the warm water engulfs you two, running her hands through your back.

She lets you lean on her shoulder while she takes whatever sweet scented body wash she could reach faster and scrubs your back, washing the day off of you.

You do the same, grabbing the bottle and squeezing some on your hands to lather your girlfriend's slightly muscular arms, up and dow, then you move to get her shoulder, her back, you cover her in bubbles.

"I love your hands" She says. Her words take you by surprise, too focused on your task of getting your girlfriend clean that you hadn't even realized she was following your every move, her expression full of love. You chuckle first, but she interrupts before you open your mouth "I'm serious, baby. Please, please don't stop touching me" she kisses you again, depositing all her love and care on the kiss.

When you break the kiss you keep your ministrations, this time you lower your hands, her breath hitches when you cup her breasts, the same massage you were delivering to her arms, now you give them a gentle squeeze.

"mh- please, honey, touch me" you love hearing your girlfriend beg, asking for it, it's not the most common thing for her to do, but whenever a plead falls form Emily's lips, your completely at her mercy, ready to comply anything she asks you to.

She let out a breathy gasp as you played with her breasts, giving your girlfriend's mighty breasts another hearty squeeze before ultimately releasing her boobs. She grabs your hips pulling you close to her, she then leaned in, giving you a quick kiss, as you swiped her tongue against her bottom lip, she grabs your ass ginig it a gentle squeeze.

Grabbing her by the hips, you push her body gently against the shower wall, you move the kisses to her neck, sucking and biting her sensitive spots as Emily throws her head back to give you better access. You slowly kissed down her valley, dropping to your knees and stopping at her belly button.

"I will touch you as much as you want baby, whatever you need" You say as you look up at her. Emily only moans in response to your reassuring words. The sound sending her into a frenzy as you slowly lick up Emily's pussy with your broad tongue, stoping at her clit as you slowly suck it, swirling your tongue with intent.

"oh god- yes sweetheart just like that" you moan at the nickname, the sound sending vibrations over the swollen bud. You alternated between gentle licks and firm sucks, using your fingers to tease and explore every inch of her sensitive flesh.

Emily could already feel herself beginning to fall apart, with her knees threatening to buckle out at any moment while pressure swelled within her loins, she places a hand on the back of your head for support, slowly pushing it to encourage you to keep going, and breathed out, "y/n… More! F-fuck, this feels great baby…" said as you dive back into her pussy with your tongue.

Your own arousal surged at the taste and sound of Emily's ecstasy, with each flick of your tongue, each gentle caress of your fingers, you bring Emily closer and closer to the peak of pleasure.

Really, you could keep your head in your girlfriend's pussy all day just eating her out, especially from hearing Emily's sweet moans.

Honestly, she could have stood to keep you buried between her legs forever. It won't take too long for her to be able to keep holding out against the growing pressure between her thighs, which makes her legs feel weaker and weaker with every lap of your tongue.

"I'm so close, baby, please" she moans, you pick up the speed, flicking your tongue against her clit as you curl your fingers against her g spot over and over again. Emily screams as her orgasm takes over. Crying out your name, she allows her body to do as it pleases as she comes hard onto your face.

As she comes down from the height, Emily holds you tight as you slid back to you feet, standing up, the warm water still running, warming your muscles, as your bodies grind against each other, she holds you close in an embrace, surrounding your waist with her arms, you both stay there letting the water rinse your bodies.

Emily is the first to break the silence "you have no idea how lucky i feel when you touch me" she says, caressing your lower back in soft circular motions.

"I'm the lucky one, Em" you say looking at her, she grabs your face, all wet from the shower "but i'm starting to get cold, we should get out now" she chuckles, pressing your lips together in a much sweeter, gentler kiss.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Next day you arrive to work together, Emily has her arm fully wrapped around yours, you don't pull apart until you get to your deks.

Emily sees Morgan on the kitchen, he's making himself a coffee, excusing herself to go talk to him

"Hey Prentiss, how you doin'?" he asks, in his face the usual cocky grin, Emily doesn't even respond

"If you ever tell my girlfriend anything about the way she is with me again, you will suffer the consequences, all right?" she says, a big, ironic smile on her face, she pats him on the shoulder, warning him.

She never leaves your side for the whole day.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Ok yes this one is longer than i thought it would be, but this was such a cute concept, I love overprotective Emily (should i write something with that? idk) Also no hate to Morgan at all!!!! I love him and he was just being playful, ok? I won't tolerate any Morgan hate on this blog!!!!

Hope you enjoy!! <3

#emily prentiss #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss lesbian #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #wlw #emily prentiss imagine #lesbian #lesbian pride #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #bisexual reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you

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osachiyo · 1 year ago

Note

I’m a tall girl ( 6’0+ ) and I rarely see any content for us and only if you’re up to it and taking requests could we get bsd men with a tall reader ^-^ feel free to disregard this if you don’t want to !

From 🍰 anon ( if I can be ^^ ) :3

⊹ note. . . as a short girlie this was a lil difficult to write, but I managed ! so sorry abt answering this so late and ofc you can be 🍰 anon, my dear <3

dazai doesn't care about your appearance, he'd love you no matter what you look like. if you're taller than him, he'd still enjoy every single bit of it, of of course. he loves how he doesn't have to strain his shoulders and slouch or bend down to kiss you. will also convince you to tease chuuya together, which eventually becomes one of y'all's favourite couple activity <3

during bed, he definitely won't deny a tall dominant lady, if you're into that. but if you prefer being submissive, he won't mind that either. mans just wants to get his dick wet and touch you, as simple as that..♡

chuuya also doesn't care about your appearance− just don't mention or make jokes about the comical height difference between you both. he'll either sulk about it, or huff and smack you playfully, grumbling something about 'height doesn't matter'. and if you picked him up and threw him over your shoulder− he'd screech and probably thrash around to get out immediately. don't worry though, he'd let you give him piggy-back rides eventually, after a lot of begging. oh and if you like to wear heels? he's not gonna tell you what you can and can't wear but it's gonna be pretty funny when he looks half your size.

in bed, unlike dazai, he'll fight you for dominance. definitely won't let you have the upper hand without some struggle− unless you somehow manage to convince him. will be secretly very into it later, he'd rather die than admit it though. but if you're submissive, he'd love that as well. would take the best care of you..♡

fyodor wouldn't care much about your height, he wants someone who listens to him and is devoted. if you tease him for being shorter than you, his lips would turn into a straight line and he'd sigh, "so? why would that matter to me?" if you wear heels, no you don't. he claims you're already taller than him, there's no need for you to become even more tall. guess he's not as unaffected he said he was, huh?

during sex, as much as it pains me to say this, fyodor will not let you have control no matter what. he desires control control and power, and he will not give that up. do not try to overpower and pin him down, I promise you the punishment is not worth it. of course, he'll let you ride him time to time− you may be on top, but he has the control and he sets the pace; don't get it twisted..♡

nikolai is a pretty big guy himself, so he's not gonna mind if you're really tall. he's gonna love it actually, you're the perfect size for him. you two would be the power couple of yokohama, just imagine terrorizing sigma together with him (ㅅꈍᴗꈍ)ᰔ

he's gonna be pretty flexible in the bedroom, of course. he's almost into anything and everything. not afraid of letting you take the lead ! will take his revenge and pin you down later though, so better keep an eye out for that..♡

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tkwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Good For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @gabelandeskog

Title: Good For You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Warnings: smut (18+ only), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), cum play (sort of?), if I missed anything, let me know!

Word count: 4,900

Comments: I live!

After two heavy snapshots, steeped in feelings, I’m back with some good old fashioned smut (with lots of plot, of course, because I am who I am). Thanks to the many Nonnies who requested this. I’d already started writing it when you sent this, but your asks challenged me to combine both your requests. I hope you enjoy, and it lives up to your expectations! If you did enjoy, please let me know by commenting, sending in an ask or reblogging! I love reading your comments, asks and suggestions!

Anonymous asked: hey! Another request idea… I was rereading the fic about Sarah being overwhelmed before meeting Quinn’s parents and when they’re talking about the WAG jackets, sarah mentions that they aren’t official yet. Can we get fic of Quinn officially asking Sarah to be his gf? Seriously love readying your stuff!

Anonymous asked: I love how much you actually show the communication between Quinn and Sarah, it makes it so much more real and overall I just love your writing ❤️❤️ I noticed how as their relationship progresses, they decide not to use condoms. Will we get to see this conversation in the future? I'd also love to see when they officially decide to be together with labels and all xxx

Good For You

A Quinn & Sarah snapshot

“Hey, Quinn?” Sarah called, walking up the stairs.

“Yeah?”

She found him on the suede couch, reading a book.

Sitting at his feet, she smiled when he moved them into her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” he put the marker in his book and rested it on his chest.

Color flooded into her cheeks.

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a nervous laugh at her sudden blush.

“I just,” she paused to lick her lips, trying to screw up her courage. “I wanted to let you know I had an IUD put in last month.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the most effective form of birth control. It’s pretty much as effective as celibacy.”

He paused, unsure where this conversation was going. When she didn't elaborate, he asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Just that you have it?”

“Well that and —” she knotted her fingers together, “since it’s super effective, and we’re only seeing each other and have been for a while, I wondered if maybe you wanted to…” she trailed off.

Quinn got the feeling he was supposed to know what she was talking about, but he was clueless. “If I wanted to, what?”

Chewing on her lip, she guessed it was time to just spit it out, “I wondered if we both get STI tested, and only if you want to, we could try not using condoms all the time.”

He felt his eyes go wide. “What?”

“I mean, only if you want to. If you feel more comfortable with condoms, that’s totally fine.”

“Are you joking?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. The book slipped off him and fell to the wood floor with a sharp slap. “Of course I want to. Did you think I was going to turn down that offer?”

“I don’t know.”

He moved to kneel, crowding into her space. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. “Can we try now?”

A laugh split her mouth into a pretty smile, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him from leaning closer.

“We need to get STI tested first.”

“I’m clean,” he said.

“As far as I know, I am too, but I would feel better if we both got tested, knowing neither of us has slept with someone else in quite a while.”

He looked crestfallen.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she hastened to add, “I’ve just heard horror stories of girls whose boyfriends didn’t know they were carrying something. Most STIs affect women, you know, and men just pass them along.”

His eyes went wide, “really?”

“Just another joy of being a woman.”

“Thats bullshit.”

“Yep,” she agreed, popping the last letter. “So It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I really need that proof for my own peace of mind before I’d feel comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “of course. I’ll talk to Roman about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll message my doctor,” she said with a shy smile, pulling out her phone.

Logically, Quinn knew they needed to talk about this before anything could happen, but the thought that he might get to fuck her bare buzzed in the back of his mind so intensely, he wished she had waited until it was an actual possibility, even if that was impossible.

When he asked Roman about it between breakfast and video the next day, the trainer immediately went into crisis mode, “what kind of symptoms are you having?”

“None. I'm just — I want to be safe.”

He was going to tell him that the girl he was seeing — he was getting so sick of using that phrase — asked him to, but that seemed like it was putting all the blame on Sarah. While she did ask for it, he'd just never considered it something he should do. Now that he knew, he was more than happy to do it.

“You're sure? You can tell me, you know.”

��I know. No symptoms. I’m just making sure.”

Roman looked at him appraisingly. “Are you dating someone new?”

Quinn was a bit surprised he hadn't heard about it. It seemed to him it was the only thing the guys chirped him about lately.

“Yeah.”

“Good for you,” he said approvingly. “Glad to know you're being safe.”

Quinn felt a chagrinned smile spread over his face.

“Well, I’m glad to know your girlfriend is safe at least,” Roman said with a laugh.

How was it so easy for him to whip that word around?

“Go to Doctor Jamison's after practice. I'll put in an order for you. They'll just need a blood sample.”

The results took two days. By that time he was on the road. Thankfully, not for too long. Only one game.

He sent her a screenshot of the panel results. All negative, mercifully. He didn't expect to be positive, but he hadn't checked while he was with or after he broke up with June.

She sent back a screenshot of her own test panel, also all negative.

It was suddenly very real. The idea of coming home to Sarah was even more enticing than usual.

He’d fucked girls bare before, he knew the sensations that came along with it, but he’d never fucked Sarah bare before. He’d tried, and she’d insisted on using condoms. He wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to give up sleeping with her. If that meant he had to wear a condom, he’d do it.

Now that the possibility of making love to her without one was on the horizon, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Looks like we'll be coming in about 2, he texted when they got to the arena. They'd fly home right after the game versus Calgary. Want to just stay at my place?

Wish I could, she wrote back, but I have class tomorrow at 8. I'll come to yours as soon as I'm done with work, though.

“What's wrong, Q?” Brock asked, noticing his crestfallen expression.

“Nothing,” he said, shoving his phone into his bag. “Sarah's just got class tomorrow morning so I won't see her until tomorrow night.”

“Man, she's got you whipped.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, playing off the comment. If he protested, he knew they would just chirp him about it more, and there was no way he was going to explain his excitement to Brock.

When the next evening finally rolled around, Quinn found himself pacing, a nervous excitement buzzing through his whole body. He’d never felt like this before. As if anticipation had been winding him up for 4 days straight.

He’d tried his best to burn off as much energy as possible on a run that morning, but that felt like years ago now. Adrenaline was coursing through him by the gallon.

He heard the elevator ding, and his stomach leapt.

Before Sarah could scan in, the door flung open. Quinn was standing there, cheeks already flushed.

She couldn’t help it, she gigged.

“What?”

“You’re just really cute,” she said.

Pulling her into the apartment, he resisted the urge to pull her upstairs straight away. Cool. He needed to be cool.

“Cute in a good way, right?”

“Yes,” she assured, leaning up to kiss him. “In a very good way.”

All of a sudden, the enormity of the situation crashed on him. He and Sarah had had sex 73 times, but this felt totally new. A frantic awkwardness took hold of his mind. How was he supposed to start this? Just like every other time? Every other time, it happened so naturally.

“Hey,” she said, grasping his wrist, trying to stop the overthinking she could practically see scrolling across his face.

He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Sorry. I’m so… I mean, I’ve never anticipated something like this for so long.” The words were falling out of his mouth before he really had a chance to think through them.

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I’m not sure I have either.”

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” he admitted.

A soft smile took over her face. “Quinn, it’s me. We've already had great sex. This is just another step.”

Nodding, he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Excitement reared in his stomach again, waging battle with his nerves.

“I do think we should talk about it, though.”

“Didn’t we already talk about it?”

“I mean, I think we should talk about what we want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what we're looking for.” She moved to sit on the living room couch, pulling him down with her. “I want to make sure we talk about it before we're in the heat of the moment so neither of us do something the other isn’t comfortable with.”

Quinn had never been with someone who communicated as much as Sarah. “It’s a product of the dead parents,” she’d told him when he asked her about it once, “life’s too short to not have the conversation.”

He sat next to her, “okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to feel you fuck me bare.”

The frank way she said it made his whole body ring.

“And I want to feel you come inside me.” It felt dangerous and exciting to say it out loud, but she couldn't get it out of her mind.

“Really?” Quinn asked, voice lilted with surprise.

“Yeah. I've been dreaming about it,” she admitted. For the past few weeks, it seemed every time she would dream of him, the feeling of him filling her was so vivid that when she woke, her underwear would be soaked, almost as if she'd orgasmed in her sleep. “I'm guessing that's something you want, too?”

He nodded.

“Is there anything else you want?”

He opened his mouth, then paused.

She nodded, encouraging him.

“I mean, there is something but it’s not a huge deal.” He was pretty certain she would at least consider it, but history had him trying to not get his hopes up.

“Tell me,” she urged, resting her hand on his knee. “I want to do what you want, too.”

“I want to come on you,” he admitted, the words coming out all in a rush.

Eyes widening, Sarah couldn’t quite stifle the laugh that squeaked from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she hurriedly back pedaled, seeing the hurt on his face, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just — with the look on your face, I was bracing myself for something super kinky.”

“June hated it,” he said quietly. “She didn’t like cum at all.”

“So did you just wear condoms all the time?”

“No. She didn’t like those either.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together, an incredulous expression on her face. “You can’t have it both ways.”

Something inside him unknotted.

“I mean, did she insist you come in a tissue every time or something?”

“Most of the time,” he amended, “sometimes I could come in her, but never on her.”

June reminded Sarah so much of the mean girls she’d known throughout her life: content to demand things of others, knowing their social currency was enough to purchase obedience to all of those ridiculous rules. Part of her wondered if June even disliked cum, or if she was just trying to keep Quinn under her thumb.

“Well I don’t have a problem with either. I mean, I don’t really love a facial, but other places are fine.” She paused for a moment, thinking about how often Quinn asked her questions, willing to learn, so he could please her better, “and, I mean, if you’re really invested in coming on my face, we can do it. I just don’t want it all the time.”

He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. A relationship is a two way street. You deserve to get the things you want, too. ”

The relieved smile he gave her in response made her want to slap June across the face. Quinn was so, so good — attentive and genuine and so willing to learn and please. She wanted to do the same for him. Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah had some kink for cum, at least she didn’t think she did, but feeling a partners pleasure in such a tangible way, always gave her a deep sense of satisfaction.

“Is there anything else you want?” he asked.

“No. You?”

He shook his head.

“Alright,” she said, “I think we should go upstairs.”

Quinn stopped trying to play it cool. He was too excited to play it cool. He grabbed her hand and raced up the stairs, glad that she laughed as she ran along with him.

She threw open the door to his room. Sarah loved this room. It was in the corner of the building, and huge windows looked over the beautiful Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, turning the harbor and city windows yellow and pink, casting their colors on the walls and spinning everything else in the room into gold.

Before she could get too caught in the view, he was spinning her around, catching her mouth in a kiss that sucked the breath right out of her.

Clothing was discarded, and they tumbled into his bed.

They surged together and Sarah moaned. It was already so much better.

Somehow, there was less pressure. He didn't have to think about pulling away to make sure they were safe. He could stay focused on her without any other worries. Why had he been so nervous? This felt, like she said, like the natural next step.

When he pulled back to line himself up, Sarah pressed her hand to his pelvis stopping the movement.

“What?” he asked, worried he'd hurt her.

“We need lube,” she said. “Or more foreplay. The condoms you have have lube on them, so they slide easier. Without that I'm worried…” she trailed off.

He hadn't even thought about it. “Which do you want?”

“I mean, I'm always game for more foreplay.”

Grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, rolling his hips against hers again. As their tongues tangled, she groaned into his mouth.

“Tell me when you're ready,” he whispered in her ear before tracing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. He licked and kissed, while one of his hands fondled her breasts, working her up to those hitched little breaths and small moans he loved so much.

“Quinn,” she breathed, a few moments later, as her temperature spiked. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his beard rasped against her skin. She’d never liked facial hair before him, but somehow, with Quinn, it was more arousing than painful. Probably because of what else he was doing. God, he was good with his mouth.

Unbidden, but not unwelcome or unfamiliar, images crashed into her mind — Quinns head buried between her thighs, his magic tongue working her to a climax she knew would be mind melting. The fantasies made her desperate for him.

“I need you,” she gasped, feeling herself grow slick against the muscular ridge of his thigh he had wedged between her legs.

“I’m right here.”

“I need you inside me.”

Her admission made Quinn feel drunk with desire. Out of his mind with it. He pulled back and her hand covered his to help him line up.

Pressing into her was better than he’d imagined.

She was so hot and wet and, “shit, you’re so tight,” he ground out, the words scraping over a moan.

Now that the barrier was gone, the time spent waiting to remove it was well worth it. Her smooth walls hugged him perfectly.

Just to feel the contrast, he withdrew to the tip, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth at the rush of cool air before he drove back into her warmth. His jaw dropped and he made some unintelligible sound.

Slick and slippery, his thrusts moved with her seamlessly as she rose to meet him again and again and again.

“So good,” she breathed, reveling in the feel of him - every vein and ridge that had been smoothed by the latex covering before felt so prominent now and, “Quinn, you feel so good.”

The praise went straight to his head.

“You feel so —” he broke off with a growl. “Shit, you feel so amazing, Sarah. I — I —” He babbled, nearly blurting that he loved her. He bit that back. This wasn’t the time for that. He wanted that to be special, not something spluttered in a lust-drunk moment. “I don't know how long I can last,” he admitted instead.

God, he was something else. Flushed and flustered, eyes half hooded, body tight with exertion and control, he looked delicious. The fact that he wanted her this much made her chest feel full to bursting.

A moan escaped her mouth as pleasure washed over her face. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Just like that, he was done for. Cooked.

“I can't… I can't,” he stammered. At least he lasted longer than the embarrassing two strokes from their first time.

“Then don't,” she panted, rocking her hips into his. Her own climax building as the thought of him finally coming inside her brought her sensitivity to a peak.

Groaning her name, he let his body take over, rhythm turning sloppy.

As she watched, his eyes fluttered closed and with a final, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt and let go.

Feeling the very tangible result of his pleasure coat her walls made Sarah’s breath hitch. It only took a few more rocks of her hips before her body bowed, chest pressing flush to his as she pulsed around him, pleasure poured into her body.

His mouth was open against her neck as he let out a sort of pained grunt.

Coming down, she melted into the soft mattress.

His body followed hers, his weight pressing into her. He knew it was probably too heavy, but he couldn’t possibly hold himself up right now.

Quinns gasping breaths were crashing into her neck. Even though it didn’t make it any easier to catch her breath, she loved the solid weight of him on top of her.

Strength slowly returned to him and they both winced a little as he eased out.

Flopping onto his back next to her, he groped for her hand. “Oh my god,” he breathed, once he had control of his voice. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling some breaths deep into her lungs.

After a few more moments of basking in the afterglow, she moved to get up. He tugged her back, “where are you going?”

“I need to pee. I'll be right back, I promise.”

He didn't shy away from watching her pad to the bathroom and then back to the bed.

Halfway through their second round, he was determined to feel Sarah come undone around him when he wasn’t so sensitive from his own orgasm. Working his fingers to her clit, he traced gentle patterns over the swollen nub.

A pleasured sigh left her lips. “Oh,” Sarah breathed, “that feels so good, Quinn.”

She had to take a moment to make her mind concentrate on one thing at a time. Anticipation coiled tighter in her belly as she focused on his gentle, deliberate touch, the heat of his body above and inside her, and then, the feel of his cock, which had been so dulled before, it almost felt completely new.

He dipped lower, gathering more of her arousal on his fingers to slip and slide over her bundle of nerves.

He didn’t try to hide or hold back from how good it felt when she fluttered around him. Her name panted from his mouth. Only when he felt himself sliding too close to the edge, did he bite his lip to distract himself.

Seeing Quinn hold on for her, trying to draw out her orgasm before his own, made tenderness swell within her. It mixed with the pleasure in her veins, bringing her closer to the peak. How the hell did June not see him this way?

She gasped his name before admitting, “I’m almost there.”

“What do you need?” he asked, wrenching his eyes open to look into her face.

“Keep going, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

He shook his head. Never. He would never stop trying to please her like this and any other way he could.

The steady rhythm he restrained himself into did its job, and she tipped over the edge.

The coil in her belly finally shattering, her body seized up as pleasure fractured through her like lightning. His name flew from her mouth in a hoarse cry.

Jaw falling open, he grunted his pleasure as her core sucked him deeper with every rhythmic pulse. God, she felt even more incredible. Sarah was already the best he’d ever had, and now, the sex had just gotten better. How was that possible?

Gripping the sheets, he held on for her, moaning and muttering about how good she felt coming around him.

Sarah was mesmerized by him. His eyes were shut now, the skin around them taut, but his jaw was lax, nearly hanging open. His arms flexed, mountains and valleys of muscle on either side of her, straining with the effort of holding himself up.

Electricity was still buzzing faintly through her veins, even as her high ebbed away. She couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill his fantasy.

“Come on me, Quinn.”

Breath lodged in his throat and his eyes flew open, frantically searching her face. “You're sure?”

“Yes. I want you to. Come on me,” she repeated, running her fingers up her chest as an example.

In a rush of want, he planked above her, quickly tugging on his cock, slick with her arousal, until he exploded, painting a sticky white line up her chest.

She seemed to preen under the assault, arching her back and moaning as if it was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his limbs turned to jelly.

He managed to lower himself on top of her without dropping, feeling his cum slick between their skin.

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he panted against her mouth.

In a few minutes time, Sarah knew she'd be squirming for a shower, but for now, she felt extremely gratified with fulfilling this fantasy for him. She smiled, replaying the look of shocked elation on his face when she requested it.

Tracing her fingers up the bumps of his spine, she took in a deep breath and let it sigh out of her lungs, reveling in the weight of his body on hers.

Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Where did all of this come from?”

“All what?”

He traced a finger through the valley of her breasts, gathering some of his cum. “This,” he said, “your little exhibitionist streak when I came on you.”

“Oh,” she somehow blushed despite her flushed skin. “I wanted to be good for you. You’re so good to me all the time, I want you to feel that, too.”

That simple statement, her admittance that she did it for him, made his head spin. How could he have ever thought what he had with June was love? He saw now how a love that met you half way blew her idea of love, which he knew now was more about control, out of the water.

A few minutes later, Sarah’s sweaty, post-sex skin began to itch. “Shower?” she asked.

“Snacks,” Quinn countered, his head still resting on the front of her shoulder.

A laugh shook her chest, “shower then snacks.”

He supposed it could work.

A short while later, they were in the kitchen, and Quinn was having an argument with himself.

They needed to have a conversation, but it was terrible timing. He didn’t want her to think he was only bringing it up because of what happened that night. At the same time, he'd been thinking about it since before his parents' visit, when she'd brought up the WAG jackets. Now that his mom and dad had met her and approved, the only thing holding him back was his brother's approval. He wasn't sure he wanted to wait that long.

He was about to leave again, and the family skate was coming up after he got back. He wanted her to come, but he was so tired of introducing her as the girl he was seeing. Sarah was more than that, now. It didn’t fit anymore, and it was too damn long to keep saying.

If they didn’t talk about it now, he worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a shirt with a funny little cartoon of a fork and a spoon that said, ‘Spooning leads to forking’ along with a pair of matching shorts. Her thighs were bare and lovely in the dim light as she sat on the counter, eating a piece of cheese she’d stolen from the sandwich he was building for them to split.

He put the top piece of bread on and decided he should just blurt it out. He didn’t think there would be a better way. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to bring up.

“What do you think about being my girlfriend?” he said, looking up.

Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, the cheese missing an almost cartoon-like bite — a little scalloped half moon cut into one corner.

“Am —” Sarah paused, wondering if this was some kind of a trick question. “Am I not?”

“No,” he said before his brain caught up with him. “No, you are, but I mean, like, formally?”

Her head tilted to one side, “Of course. I’ve been thinking of you as my boyfriend for a few weeks now. Pretty much since you met Trav and the kids.”

A sigh breathed through him.

“Did you think I was gonna say no?”

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t want you to think I was only bringing it up because of the unprotected sex thing.”

“That is pretty terrible timing on your part,” she conceded, laughing. “It’s a good thing I…” she trailed off, stopping herself from continuing out loud. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? So what if she was in her ridiculous pajamas in his kitchen? She’d brought them with her expressly because she thought they would make him laugh, and she’d been right. The delighted surprise that had escaped his mouth when he’d seen them was something she knew she’d treasure for a long time.

“A good thing you?” he repeated, hope ballooning in his chest.

“It’s a good think I know you’re not just in it for the sex,” she said, lamely.

Quinn’s expression went from hopeful to distraught right before her eyes. “How could you think that?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly earnest.

“Quinn, I —”

He cut her off, “I like so many things about you, Sarah. You’re smart and funny and you’re kind to everyone you meet, and you’re so dedicated to your work.” He was rambling now, but if she thought he was in this just for the sex? He would die of shame.

“I like that you’ve never treated me like anything else but Quinn, and you’re always willing to meet me half way,” he said, his voice taking on an almost frantic quality as he tried to convey what she meant to him. “And I —”

“Quinn.”

The way she said his name made him stop short.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand coming up to gently cup his jaw. “I was teasing. I know you’re not just in it for the sex. Someone who only wanted sex wouldn’t have waited four weeks to have it.”

She had a valid point.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Quinn.”

Leaning in to kiss her, he felt as if someone had struck a match, setting his heart ablaze.

Settling into bed, Quinn remembered he hadn’t told her yet.

“Hey, my family’s coming in for the finals. They’ll be here on the 20th.”

“Oh,” she said, obvious disappointment on her face.

“Is that not…okay?”

Feeling her cheeks blaze, Sarah realized she hadn’t shared that expectation with him yet. “It’s just…my last final is that day and I’ve kind of been looking forward to you fucking me silly as a reward for finishing.”

His eyes went huge, “oh.”

“It's one of the ideas that's kept me going, honestly.”

“I could still do that,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“With your family in the house? I don't think so.”

“At yours then.”

“With my roommates there?”

He bit his lip. “We could get a hotel?”

“Because that's not weird when you have people, let alone family, staying at your house.”

“I’ll tell them to come a day later,” he offered.

“Would they buy that without an explanation?”

“Would I have to give them one?”

“I don't know. Would you? My family would want to know. You’ll have to make something up.”

“You don’t want me to tell them they can’t come on the 20th because my girlfriend finally finished her classes and wants to be fucked all night?” he teased.

Giggling, she smacked his shoulder lightly, “I think I might die if your mom knew that about me,” she admitted, part of her mind still caught on the open way he used the girlfriend title.

He laughed. “I’ll just tell them we have a late team meeting, or something so it would be better for them to come in on 21st. It’ll be fine.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey romance #hockey fanfiction

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jomgiiu · 2 years ago

Text

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

The king of Hawkins high, Steve Harrington asks you out on a date but not for the reason you think. After that night, you learn who the real Steve Harrington is.. or so you thought.

paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

CW: ANGST ANGST ANGST, i guess bully!steve?, steve being a douchebag, king steve taking effect, swearing obviously, mentions of wounds/blood not to major.

A/N: i wrote this one a whim, got carried away it’s not the best but i need feedback to see what i should do next with it lol. i liked writing season 1 steve, i made him meaner than in the actual show but ofc i hope you all dont mind! enjoy and reblog! (not proof read and poor writing oops)

Last night was the worst nights of your life, you got stood up by Steve Harrington. He'd asked you on a date during lunch and you obviously said yes. You and your friends were giggling and whispering about it all day, they gave you advice about what to do and say, what to wear, how to do your makeup, they seemed more excited than you. The moment you got home you got ready. He said he’d be there at 6 and it was already 3, so you had enough time to plan everything out. You put on your favorite record, pulled out your lucky socks, and got ready. The outfit you picked look like it came out of a magazine, so elegant and beautiful; Steve was definitely going to fall for you. At least that’s what you thought.

Sitting on the couch, you waited and waited and waited. 6 o’clock rolled around and the butterflies in your stomach would not stop.

6:13. He's just running a bit late.

6:28. Maybe he had car trouble?

6:41. Maybe he actually meant 7!

7:15. Or maybe he didn’t mean anything at all.

7:35. You were nothing to him.

Your parents didn’t get home from work until 8, so you decided to go up and change to save yourself the embarrassment of them asking about anything. Feeling like you came out of magazine just to feel like you were a thrown-out magazine because it’s the wrong issue. You went to sleep that night, crying over a stupid boy and a stupid date. It was stupid.

What felt like forever, you finally got to your locker. Fumbling with the lock, you got it to open and put your things away, grabbing stuff for your classes. Laughter was heard a few lockers down, glancing over it was Steve and his idiot friends. You sighed and shut your locker. You didn’t want to confront Steve but you had the right too. Confidently, you walked over to them but that instantly left when Carol whispered something to Steve, making him snicker. Your stomach felt like it was twisting and winding, you felt sick.

“Hey, you!” Carol greeted; her words were sweet but was sour coming out of her mouth. You gave her a small wave and went to focus on Steve. He had on a blue polo, Calvin Klein jeans and a dark windbreaker complementing his outfit. His hair was perfect as always, he spent more time looking at himself than he did anyone else.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Um,” the words were stuck in your throat. His stare was burning you. Either you chicken out or you confront him.

“Where were you last night?” the words came out in almost a whisper.

“Huh? What was that?” he put his hand behind his ear, leaning down a bit to you. “What did you say?” Steve’s teasing was cruel, he has a smirk planted on his face waiting for you respond.

“I think our friend here asked about your date last night.” Tommy commented.

“Ah.” Steve moved his hand away from his ear and resting it in his jean pocket. “Listen, I was planning on going but I got wrapped up in somethings. I was going to call. Promise.” The sympathy in his voice was forced.

“Yeah, Steve was too busy studying anatomy with Nancy.” Tommy teased, making Carol slap him on the chest playfully. Steve smirked and looked at you.

“Tom, pay up man.”

What?

You tried to process what was going on. You watched Tommy give Steve a $20, shoving it in his pocket looking so proud of himself.

“Why did-”

“Oh gosh, for being a straight ‘A’ student, you really are stupid.” Carol said.

“W-what?”

“Tommy over here told me if I asked you out, I'd get the 20. I did and I got the 20.” Steves words felt like a knife to the heart.

“You put a bet on me?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” Tommy exclaimed, making everyone laugh.

“You really believed that Steve would go out with you!” Carol snorted.

“I-”

“Listen, you seem like a great girl, I just don’t think you're up to the Steve Harrington standard. Nancy on the other hand, well she is. Don’t get me wrong, she just like you but more put together you get what I mean?” Steve’s words were harsh but said with ease.

You began to shake, you tried to hold the tears back forming in your eyes letting one fall down your cheek.

“Aw are you crying?” Carol pouted.

“I just thought you wanted to actually get to know me.” You choked out.

“Get to know you? I’d rather talk to a freak than talk to you. But I guess that’s what I’m doing now huh?” Laughter erupted around you. People stopped and stared at you, all eyes were on you, people where whispering and giggling.

You quickly walked away from them, tears clouding your vision you didn’t want to go anywhere else but out. Your friends tried to stop you but you ignored them, you were just trying to get to your car where you could be alone. Getting in your car, you finally let it all out. They humiliated you in front of everyone, Steve placed a bet on you, everyone knew why. You were a loser. You’d never be Nancy Wheeler and you’d never be with Steve Harrington. Going home that day felt awful, you told your parents that you got sick and just needed to be home for the day, or the week. Thankfully, they took the bait and let you come home early and stay home for the week. Your mom went to the school to pick up your work you missed and that kept you occupied for the time being but didn’t distract you from your feelings.

It didn’t help either that one of your friends called you, basically screaming at you that Steve asked her out on a date and she was calling you from the diner payphone that they were at right now. Your heart almost about blew up when you heard that. The day he does that to you, he asks one of your friends out? You told her congrats and when she briefly asked about your date, you just told her that you canceled because you didn’t feel well, hence why you left school today. She instantly bought it and told you that she’ll update you later and hung up. Of course, everyone had a crush on Steve and everyone wanted to be Steve. You wanted Steve but you didn’t know his personality, you didn’t know who he was as a person until now. Every girl he’s been with was ranting and raving about him and the dates he brings them on, you just wanted to experience one. You knew you were pretty, smart and you had a pretty decent reputation, why would he do that to you. Steve made you feel like nothing. He made you feel ugly, stupid and a loser. Steve Harrington was an asshole and no one knew that expect for you.

Tuesday finally came. You begged your mom to stay home again, since you did Monday. You tired the fake puke trick but she saw right through it. Your mom convinced you if you went to school, you could buy something out of a catalog. You couldn’t pass that opportunity. If you were coming back, you were coming back looking like you haven’t been crying for the past week. You threw on the cutest outfit you could find, made sure the tear stains were off your face, kissed your mom goodbye and headed to school. The moment you walked in, the counselor grabbed you by the throat and dragged you into her office. Ms. Kelly was a nice lady; it was clear she cared about the students but it annoyed you because you didn’t want to talk. She asked how you were doing and what you plan on doing to keep your grades up. You explained that you have all your work, you just need to turn it in.

“Wonderful!” she said.

Ms. Kelly looked down at her paper, dragging her finger along until she stopped.

“Ms. Click has actually requested to see you, I told her I'd send you down to talk to her. She couldn’t wait until your period. You can also take your work for her class and turn it in then.” She said, writing a hall pass. “Just come back here when you’re done okay?” You nodded gripping your history work, taking the hall pass and walking to Clicks. You liked Click, she was nice to you and you had her 5th period which was such a calm class, you liked everyone in there. As soon as you opened the door to Clicks, everyone's eyes were on you and even pair you didn’t want. Steve Harringtons.

“Oh, perfect timing! Class, turn and talk about the question on the board I'll be a moment.”

You walked into the classroom more to Clicks desk. She smiled at you and offered you a little candy. How could you say no. You handed her your stack of papers as she sat down at her desk.

“How have you been. 5th hour hasn’t been the same!”

You glanced around the class to see the people. Steve was still looking at you. You began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Oh, I've been sick. Flu season I guess.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for doing your work while you were sick. Not a lot of kids even do their work in class.” you nodded. “I called you here to obviously see if you were alright but also to see if a student can borrow your notes. You did them perfectly and I think it would help them. Don’t worry, he’ll give it back to me so you can have it back.” Click began to look through another pile of papers.

“Sure, who’s using it?”

“Steve.”

The color drained from your face. God was not on your side today. You didn’t want the cause of you missing school to look at your notes, it’s his fault he’s stupid.

“Ah, here we are,” She pulled out your notes and handed them to you. “Give those to Steve please and you can be on your way. We can talk more in 5th hour!” She smiled. You grabbed your notes and have her a tight-lipped smile. Turning away from her desk, you walked to Steve’s. He clearly wasn’t doing the assignment, just goofing around and flirting with the girls around him. Making it to his desk, he stopped talking to the girls and instantly looked at you.

“What-”

“Ms. Click wanted me to give you my notes to help you out.” you interrupted, holding out the notes to him.

“Pfft, I don’t need your notes. I don’t want to read mistakes.”

Hold it together.

“It wasn’t my choice. It was Ms. Cli-”

“Does it look like I care about what she has to say? No. Do I care what you have to say? No. I'm surprised you even came to school today looking like this.”

The girls around him started giggling and whispering to each other.

“I think I look fine.”

“Well, I'm glad you had the confidence to wear clothes from the salvation army.”

Don’t cry.

“For your information, I got an ‘A’ on these notes and Ms. Click said I was the only one who got an ‘A.’ And I got these from a catalog and I'm sorry my daddy doesn’t buy me every new thing like your ugly BMW you drive and at least I'm not a wannabe dickhead.”

Steve put his hands over his chest, having a shocked expression on his face which quickly switched to a smug look.

“Wow! You got me there! You showed me!” Steve scooted up closer in his seat, resting his arms in front of him looking right at you.

“I'm not the wannabe sweetheart, you are. You want to have my money and BMW so bad but here you are driving your run-down Ford Escort and thinking that catalog clothing is going to save you. It’s not. Sure, you think you're all smart but looks will do you better in the future. Remember that.” Steve snatched the notes from your hands and started to talk to his friends again.

You left the classroom so fast, before you could say goodbye to Ms. Click. The whole day you were worried about what Steve said. About how you looked and how looks will get you places. You knew it was bullshit, you had colleges already begging for you to go to school but it’s the way Steve said it. Worse of it all, you went to 5th hour, hoping for a good period. Until you got your notes back to notice he scribbled all over them, writing things, drawing crude things on all your work. You frantically began to look through the notes until one comment stood out to you.

‘When you walk out of school, make sure to wear the bag on your head I left you at your locker. You need it.’

Tears filled your eyes. You shot up from your seat and ran out of your class. Ms. Click was yelling for you as you ran down the halls until you got to your locker. There you saw a paper bag with eye holes cut out of it, tapped to your locker. You ripped the bag off your locker and fell to your knees, sobbing into the paper bag. Why was Steve being so mean to you? You should be ruining his life; he shouldn’t be ruining yours. This all started with a date that turned out to be a joke and then ever since your life went downhill. Classmates from your period found you and tried to comfort you of what happened. You broke and told Ms. Click what happened and what Steve did which led to Principal Higgins getting involved and calling your parents and Steve's. He got a suspended for the rest of the week which was a relief to you but didn’t help the situation. Now since this situation, you were known as the ‘Cry baby.’ Your friends tried to help you feel better and stood up for you when the time was right. You were grateful to have a support system but not grateful for Steve Harrington.

It’s been a few months since the whole Steve situation and some forgot about it and moved on to other things like the Byers youngest boy going missing and Barb Holland also going missing, making the whole town worried. Steve was still a dick but he didn’t pay any mind to you though, he was too busy dealing with his goons and his dream girl, Nancy Wheeler. A part of you still had a crush on him, just the smallest he was still cute but he was still a dick. You had to go see Ms. Kelly every Friday since what happened which you didn’t mind but it was still annoying. It was the same bland conversation about your week. If there's any people giving you a hard time, grades, college, just boring, stupid conversations that waste your time during 6th period but you got to leave earlier which was a plus. Before you left, Ms. Kelly told you that your mom called and wanted you to stop by Melvald’s to grab some more dish soap so that’s where you are now, looking for dish soap and Melvald’s. Why are there so many soaps? You never paid attention to what one you used it was just soap. You notice someone move at the conner of your eye, you paid no mind to it until you noticed who the someone was. The navy-blue jacket, the blue jeans, the green shirt, the hair. Yeah, it was him.

Oh god not here.

Focus on the soaps.

Glancing over at him he was looking at the band aids and ointments he looked dazed, squinting at labels trying to make it clear. Then a pair of hazel eyes fell on you, making you quickly look at the soaps. You swore your heart was going to explode it was pounding so fast, it felt like someone was squeezing your whole body you couldn’t breathe. Was this really happening? Why was he here? How could you not see his BMW in the parking lot? Anxiety riddled your body as you heard someone shuffle up to you. God don’t let it be you.

“Hey,”

Frozen in place, you moved your head slightly to look at him. You were taken back by the way he looked. The right side of his face was bloody and bruised with the wound already scabbing over, his right eye swollen, a small cut settled on his lip following one on the bridge of his nose., going slightly down to the right of his cheek. He looked awful. You tried not to stare at him too much, you didn’t want to be rude but it was impossible to look away. Who did this to the king of Hawkins high?

“Sorry to bother you. I just--I can't really read this. Is this the right ointment?”

Your eyes trailed down to the box he was holding making you huff out a laugh.

“Well, if you have hemorrhoids then yes, but otherwise no.”

“Uh, no. Not necessarily.” His face turned a light shade of red. “I need something for um,” he pointed to his face rising his eyebrows. “This.”

“I’ll help you. Hemorrhoid cream definitely isn't gonna help that.” you kicked yourself for that and made your way to where he was before. Steve stood watching you look through the hundreds of creams and ointments on the shelf. You eventually found one and replaced it the original ointment in Steve's hand for the new one.

“Zemo will help a lot it does wonders; it makes it less itchy and heals quicker. You'll thank me later.”

Steve looked at the medicine and looked back at you. There was no hatred in his eyes, no cruelness. Just hurt. He was hurt inside and out; he was guilty for what he’s done to you and so many others. He’s guilty for hurting the only girl he loves. He’s hurting.

“Thanks.” that’s all he could say to you in this moment. A simple thank you, not anything else.

“Have you cleaned them?”

“Uh no, just had an aspirin and a cold coke to put it on.” Steve shrugged.

You sighed.

“Okay, just get that, I'll finish what I need and meet me outside okay?”

The stinging sensation of the alcohol covered cotton pad on the open wound made Steve wince, making him pull his head away from you. You muttered a sorry and he just huffed and let you clean him up. Never in a million years you would be sitting here in the Milvad’s parking lot taking care of Steve Harrington. He watched you carefully as you take your time with him, carefully moving so he wouldn’t be in as much pain as he already was. It took someone to beat the absolute shit out of him for him to realize how much of a dick he was. How miserable he made people feel. How miserable he made you feel.

“Sorry, this happened to you, I can't imagine how much it hurts.”

Steve scoffed at your sincerity.

“I deserved it, you out of all people should be happy this happened to me.”

“A little part of me is,” you admitted. “Who did this to you?”

You put the cotton pad down and grabbed the Zemo putting a glob on your finger and gently rubbing it in over his wound. Steve hissed at the contact.

“Jonathan Byers.” Steve mumbled.

“Oh wow.” You were quite shocked that a quiet boy like him could rock Steve’s shit. Steve was fit, he had to be for basketball and baseball so you assume he could win a fight. You finished applying the Zemo and giving it to Steve.

“Make sure you put this on twice a day, and only once if you shower. It should help the itch and the scaring a bit. You'll be healed in no time.”

Steve held the Zemo in his hands and watched you clean everything up. You were really pretty up close. Yeah, he looked at you close up a lot of times but this time he noticed every detail of your face, every curve, every wrinkle, every texture, he was scared of looking away because he didn’t want to forget it. Steve thought back to the paper bag he taped to your locker, Tommy and Carol thought it would be a funny idea and so did he at the time. When he was in the principal's office with his dad with you and your parents, he glanced at you and his chest was tight. Your head was hanging low, tears falling down your cheeks and landing on your hands, silent sobs coming from you. Steve recoiled when heard let out sobs after him and his dad left the principal's office. Mr. Harrington made it clear if he pulled that shit again, he would be kicked off the basketball and baseball teams, he wouldn’t get into an ivy league school and end up as a drug dealer on the streets. Mrs. Harrington told him that’s no way to treat girls, there’s no reason to bully girls anyway. She was disappointed in her Stevie and Stevie was disappointed in himself. Of course, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole, if he didn’t get caught then he wouldn’t have to go through that whole fiasco again so he moved on from you and started being an arrogant prick either way to everyone around him. That ended up getting beat up, ditching his “friends” and getting taken care of by the girl he bullied.

“Thanks for doing this, you didn’t have to you know?”

“I know.” you responded.

“Why did you?”

You sighed and looked at him. He looked so vulnerable, his hazel eyes soft and looking at you. Steve looked like a lost puppy; in some cases, he was. Now he was. He had no friends anymore, he was hurt and lost, no guidance, nothing. You seemed like the only thing keeping him afloat at this moment.

“Unlike some people Steve, I care. No matter what you did to me, how you treated me, you deserve some type of -- I don’t know but I was always taught to help people that needed it. I know you know what's right. I know what you have to do, so do it. You're better than this Steve Harrington.”

You walked towards your car, quickly getting in throwing the stuff in the front and driving off before Steve could say anything to you. Deep down, you knew Steve was a good person he was just around bad people. As much as you hated it, you knew he had to apologize to Nancy, he had to make everything up to her and even Jonathan but it was selfish to think he’d do the same to you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #enimies to friends to lovers #steve harrington angst #king steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #angst #season one steve harrington #stranger things season 1 #mean!steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut

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