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kittycrashsposts · 15 days ago

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The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, Still Chaotic™, Verbal bullying disguised as flirting, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically), Unwilling reverse harem, Reader is done with them all (not really), Sketchbook plot device supreme, Soft angst, hard silence, Enemies? Lovers? Babysitters? Who knows anymore.

[A/n]: We'll no longer keep track of days! Hehe. See you on the next part when [Y/n] probably commits violence with a spoon or something. 💅

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, >Part 5<

Abby lounged on the edge of the neighboring rooftop like it was a damn beach chair.

One leg up, the other swinging over the side, arms pillowed behind his head as he watched you through your apartment window had become a weird sort of team ritual lately.

Not that he'd ever admit to partaking.

You were pacing again. Sorting through papers, sketchbooks, the usual post-work chaos that filled your tiny living space.

Abby tilted his head, smirking at the sight of your annoyed expression as your paintbrush rolled off the table for the third time.

"Should I..." He mumbled, mostly to himself, "Teleport inside? Maybe mess with the lights. Whisper from the closet. Classic haunting setup."

He even cracked his knuckles in preparation. Just to see your face when the lamp flickered or a breeze hit your neck with no window open. Maybe he'd pretend to be a ghost.

Or worse—an unpaid bill.

He was this close to doing it. Already picturing the way you'd groan, or scream, or slam a book against the wall—

Then something flickered. Not in your room. Not part of his stupid prank ideas.

His smirk dropped.

There was smoke. Not the lazy wisps of incense. Not the steam from your usual sad cup noodles.

Real smoke. Heavy, black, curling like claws around the window frames of your building. The glass panes were quickly turning an ugly shade of orange, backlit by something that no longer looked like anything funny.

Abby sat up straight and blinked. Then heard screams.

And without thinking, without choosing, he was already gone.

He reappeared in the hallway of your floor, materializing in a flash of warped space and static. The heat hit him immediately, and it was oppressive, stifling. The air reeked of burning plastic and panic.

People were running. Someone shoved past him. Another yelled something he didn't catch.

But all he saw was your door. Still shut. Still untouched.

He found himself moving again.

Not a sound passed his lips. Not one quip. Not one smug insult. His body was already acting faster than thought, faster than his usual jokes would allow.

He didn't realize his human eyes had bled gold until the reflection of the hallway lights shifted, catching the shine of something inhuman.

Sharp. Predatory. Worried.

His foot slammed against the lock. The cheap wood cracked and caved in with a sharp, brutal snap. He didn't stop. One more kick and the door burst open.

The smoke billowed out like a monster, howling into the corridor.

Abby stepped in and froze.

You were there, crumpled by the window, body curled protectively around your bag. Your arms were trembling.

Your shirt was stained with blood. A thin, cruel gash snaked down your arm, and your fingers were clenched so tightly around the sketchbook, he thought your knuckles might snap.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, barely there.

Abby didn't speak.

He crossed the distance in three strides, eyes locked on you, his golden irises a beacon in the dark.

You swayed, just barely, like you were about to say something—

And then you collapsed into him.

His arms caught you before you hit the ground, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, Abby didn't find this kind of thing amusing.

—

Jinu had a bad feeling the moment the sun dipped beneath the skyline.

He hated this.

Not because Abby volunteered to take his usual surveillance shift and possibly pull some stunts. Not because the others wouldn't stop teasing him about how he was getting "soft" for a human girl. No, he could handle that.

What pissed him off was the fact that it had been hours past the agreed time.

And they still hadn't gotten the damn sketchbook.

He paced the rooftop he usually stationed himself on. Restless with his jaw tight. He wasn't worried. Of course not. He was just—

"...Screw it."

Jinu teleported.

One blink and he was back across from your building, perched silently in the shadows.

He didn't even get the chance to exhale before his entire body tensed.

Smoke. Thick, ugly clouds rising from the middle floors. The sight hit him harder than it should have.

He didn't wait. He teleported again, this time just far enough to see the chaos below. People running and crying. Some being carried out.

And then, One figure emerged from the smoke.

Carrying something. No—someone.

Abby.

...With you.

Jinu didn't move. Not at first. He just stood there, watching. Your arms were wrapped around that damn bag.

Even now, despite being barely conscious, your body clung to that sketchbook like it was worth dying for.

His fingers twitched and he couldn't help the harsh laugh from leaving his mouth. So that's how it was, huh?

They had her.

They had the sketchbook.

Everything was accounted for, except whatever twisted in his chest.

—

When you woke up, your throat felt like sandpaper soaked in gasoline.

Your eyelids were heavy, too heavy, and your body throbbed in strange places, like you'd been tackled by an entire football team and then politely set on fire afterward.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar. It was white, glossy, and decorative. Was that…a chandelier?

You blinked. Then blinked again.

"...Did I die?"

The words rasped out of you before your brain could catch up. You tried to sit up, regretted it instantly, and groaned as your arm flared with pain. Bandages. The scent of antiseptic. Something floral in the air, too—like those overpriced essential oils they peddled in mall kiosks.

You turned your head.

Velvet curtains. Gold accents. The biggest bed you'd ever seen that you felt intimidated by the sight alone.

Yep. This wasn't your apartment. This wasn't a hospital either.

"...Did I die and became rich?" You mumbled, frowning at the obscene throw pillows.

The sound slipped out before you could stop it. Not quite a laugh, and not quite sane. Somewhere between victory and full-blown psychotic break.

Clearly, you'd already lost your mind years ago.

"It's the former, then." You grinned at the chandelier. Damn right you understood those unhinged female leads who's already happy and satisfied when they get to experience this shit.

Which is why you let your head flop back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. Maybe next you'll wake up with a talking sword or a tragic backstory buff.

But then the door creaked open and a shadow fell across the bed. You cracked one eye open. What you saw shook your soul.

The whole damn circus was here.

"...Oh. It's hell."

There was a beat of silence.

"You're awake." That came from Romance, who didn't sound surprised, just tired. A glass of water was in his hand. "Here. Drink."

You stared at the glass suspiciously. "...You didn't poison it, right?"

He smiled at you, lovingly even. "No promises."

"Great. Love that." You took it anyway. Because dying of dehydration in front of them would be giving them what they wanted.

You drank half before realizing all five of them were still standing there, watching in silence. It felt intense.

"Okay. You're all creepy." You rasped. "Can we not stare at me like I’m some kind of rare zoo animal?"

They didn't move.

If anything, they stared harder.

Romance blinked like you'd offended his entire bloodline. Baby tilted his head and muttered something about how you kinda were one. Abby's jaw tensed.

But it was Mystery who didn’t flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't move from where he was quietly perched at the armrest, maybe two steps from you.

He just kept looking.

Expression unreadable. Eyes too still. You could feel it, his attention crawling across your skin like static. And yet… he wasn't alarmed. Just watching.

Curious, cautious, and unsettled.

You turned toward him, gave him a weak, deadpan glare. "Seriously?"

He tilted his head again, like a bird trying to understand a noise. Still didn't look away.

It was the only thing he could do to settle the itch. That faint, crawling feeling in his ribs that told him something might still be wrong. That you could just… slip away.

"...Creep." You muttered under your breath and dropped your head back onto the soft pillow.

Mystery didn't react.

But then, he took a slow step forward. Stood beside the bed, silent as a shadow. He was basically hovering.

He didn't offer a blanket. Didn't say anything dramatic. Just stood there, a quiet sentinel, like his mere presence was enough. Like he was daring the world to try something again.

"?"

It was Abby who finally snapped.

"Do you have a death wish or are you just incredibly stupid?" His voice was sharp, harsher than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me—?"

He stood still at the edge of the bed with his arms at his sides, shoulders tense, and gaze cold.

You'd seen him smug. You'd seen him smugger. But this? This was the first time you'd seen him like this.

He didn't need to raise his voice. He didn't need to move. He just stood there, tall and terrifyingly still, like the room itself had shrunk under the weight of his silence.

For the first time in a long time, you felt small. You felt intimidated and almost guilty. Almost.

"You were about to burn alive," He went on. "And you thought it was a good idea to save that?"

You followed Abby's gaze to your bedside, where your sketchbook sat. A little scorched around the edges. But still there.

Still whole.

Your heart twisted. You said nothing.

Abby looked like he was trying very hard not to raise his voice. "You were choking on smoke. The door was sealed shut. You were bleeding. But you held onto that thing like—"

"Like it was worth dying for." Jinu muttered from the back, arms crossed.

You glanced at him. His face was unreadable, but his tone wasn't. It was cool. Sharp. Distant.

Your lips parted slightly as if you were trying to process what was happening, what all happened. "...Don't act like you care." You said quietly.

And maybe you imagined the flicker in his—in their expression. Maybe not.

Abby stepped forward again. "You could've died."

You looked at him, unfazed, eyes cool and half-lidded—like you were more annoyed about being scolded than nearly dying. "Yeah. And?"

The silence that followed was sharper than expected.

You saw the way Abby's gaze hardened. The subtle twitch in his jaw. The barest flicker of something dangerous flaring behind his eyes—controlled, but barely.

You frowned.

Jinu, from somewhere else in the room, stilled. You couldn't see him directly, but you felt it. That shift in atmosphere, sudden and suffocating. Like someone had exhaled poison into the air.

Baby, usually the one to joke, didn't laugh. Instead, he clicked his tongue. It was loud and deliberate.

"Wow." He drawled, his voice much deeper than usual. "So you almost die and still manage to act like a brat. That's talent."

The words were flippant. Dismissive.

But they landed with more bite than usual. A little too pointed.

You glanced at him. He was lounging on the couch, one leg over the other, expression unreadable. No crossed arms. No clenched fists.

Just that smile, the one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Romance's posture tensed where he sat. He wasn't smiling anymore. His fingers wrapped just a little too tightly around the chair arm. Not clenched, just held. Intentional. Controlled.

And Mystery, standing quietly at the side of the bed, still hadn’t moved.

But there was a shift.

So faint you might've missed it if you hadn't glanced at him just as you did with the others: flicker of muscle near his brow. A near-frown. Almost.

He didn't look angry. He didn't look anything.

That was what made it worse.

You felt the pressure in the room get heavier. Like the walls themselves had taken offense to your voice.

And you didn't get it.

Your heart started thudding a little harder, not because you were scared, not exactly, but because something had changed. Their silence had turned unreadable. Not like they were confused.

Like they were offended.

Or maybe...

...hurt?

Your eyes darted between them. Abby's still-glowering stare, Jinu's distant silence, Baby's sudden lack of smartassery, Romance's tightened jaw, and Mystery's frozen calm.

Why did it feel like you'd just insulted them?

You sat up more, blinking slowly, brain still fogged and tired and full of holes.

Because as far as you knew, you weren't close enough to any of them to earn that kind of reaction. You weren't their responsibility. You weren’t anyone's anything.

And yet, something in you shifted. Maybe it was the pain meds. Maybe it was the exhaustion.

Or maybe it was the stupid, stubborn part of your heart that warmed a little, just a little, at the thought that they'd even worried in the first place.

That they'd cared enough to be mad.

You didn't let it show.

"And that sketchbook." Abby's voice cut in flat and cold, snapping your gaze back to him. "It better have answers for what the hell you're doing drawing us."

Another wave of silence washed through the room. No one stopped him. No one corrected him.

They were waiting.

Watching.

You swallowed, throat raw. Body aching. But more than anything, you were done.

So instead of answering, you flopped back against the pillows with the grace of a disgruntled corpse and muttered:

"Can I at least eat first before the interrogation starts?"

Silence.

"...Want soup?" Romance offered, blinking.

"No." You exhaled. "I want a new life."

"You're not getting that." Baby said as he leaned against the doorway like he didn't care but the way he kept glancing at you said otherwise. So yeah. "But you are getting grilled. So. Good luck."

You threw your arm over your face and groaned into the mattress.

Hell. Definitely hell.

For now, the boys gave you some space. It felt like you needed it anyway which good that they could tell.

The door clicked shut behind them and that naturally made silence to follow.

You waited a moment. Two. Maybe three. Just to be sure none of them were waiting outside, breathing too loudly or listening in like nosy people with zero concept of boundaries.

Nothing.

Your fingers curled into the sheets. It hit you all at once—like smoke flooding your lungs again. Not the pain. Not the ache. But the realization.

You had nothing.

No home. No apartment. No backup plan.

Everything was gone… except what you managed to stuff into that bag. That was it.

Your body ached, but your chest ached worse. "...Shit."

You didn't even realize the tears until they slipped down, silent and hot, sliding past the grime on your cheek.

You tried to brush them off, but the sting in your bandaged arm made you wince. You stared at the gauze. The pinkish tint bleeding through.

A wound. A reminder.

Your throat tightened. Your lip quivered before you could stop it.

"Is the universe really out to get me," You whispered with quivering lips, "Or am I just that unlucky?"

You curled tighter into yourself, hand clinging to the soft pillow like it could anchor you, like maybe if you just squeezed hard enough, everything would reset.

Sitting up, you wiped those stinging tears away.

You took the bag to see, to confirm the things you had manage to save despite the fury flames that was slowly making its way to your apartment to burn more, to eat you alive.

You shiver at the possibility and the memory but quickly shook it off.

You're okay. You're safe.

You pursed your lips and held in a cry, continuing on to get the contents of the bag.

Your precious tablet. Yes. Phone. Charger... but it's not for the latter. ID, wallet, your...broken earphones? And most importantly, your sketchbook. That was all.

You were still thankful but you couldn't help the bitter laugh from cracking out of you. You buried your face back into the pillow.

"I'm so fucking tired, if one more thing happens I'm fighting air." You sniffed. Cursed again. Then hit the pillow with your good arm.

Once.

Twice.

And then—

"AND I JUST ORDERED A BOX OF SAMYANG! I ONLY GOT TO EAT ONE! Shibaldaiefd$#fs—"

The yell was muffled against the sheets. Dramatic. Desperate. Absolutely valid.

And somewhere outside the door, a hand stopped from turning the knob.

Romance smiled, a soft one that was uncharacteristically of him. He was back to bring in that soup like he said but he heard some 'pitiful sounds.'

At first he considered to walk in, comfort you... and get that sketchbook. But what his body wanted to do was the opposite. It wanted to just hold you, to touch you tenderly despite questioning himself for his actions.

It felt wrong.

And yet here he was, finding himself still smiling. "...She's fine."

He looked at the soup on the tray, then walked away with a hum. It doesn't feel like you're feeling on eating anything yet.

Besides, he can always reheat it for you.

...He stopped walking when he realized what he just thought.

Has he lost it?

Why would he even think that?

He's not your maid. Not your caretaker. Not someone who should be thinking about what soup temperature you'd prefer when you wake up.

You're just some human. A stubborn, mouthy one at that. The type that laughs in the face of danger, then promptly collapses in a pool of blood. A walking liability wrapped in sarcasm and trauma.

So why was he…?

Nope. He was just tired. That’s all. Things have been exhausting ever since he agreed to this whole idol mess. Nonstop schedules. Fake smiles. Endless noise.

And now you, dropped into the chaos like a match to gasoline.

He wasn't worried.

He was just… thinking ahead. Yeah. Strategic. Efficient.

Smart.

Not worried. Not wondering if you'd wake up again, or if you'd talk back like usual, or if your voice would sound the same when you did.

He kept walking.

As Romance made his way toward the kitchen, he passed by Mystery, who seemed to be eyeing the room you were in.

He's been doing that from the moment Abby arrived, arms tensed, eyes sharp and glowing while he carried you unconscious and bleeding.

Mystery didn't seem the slightest bit pleased by the sight.

Not Abby, who had held you so protectively, yet somehow gentle when he set you down on the bed.

Not Jinu, who arrived seconds later with that storm brewing quietly behind his eyes.

Not even Baby, who tried to appear indifferent.

They all felt it.

Romance didn't say anything as he passed Mystery, but his gaze lingered a second longer on the door. Not a word. Not a sigh. Just that look.

The kind that said he was thinking things he'd never admit.

Mystery stood motionless, hands tucked in his coat pockets, one foot tapping rhythmically against the tile. He'd been staring at that door like it might vanish if he blinked.

Not because he was worried. That's what he told himself. But something twisted deep in his chest when he'd seen your blood. Your arm. The heat still clinging to you.

The way you hadn't moved for a full thirty seconds.

Down the hall, Abby leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hadn't said a word since.

But his eyes hadn't left the door either. Not even once.

Jinu stood by the window, back turned to the room, his reflection visible in the glass—jaw tight, fist clenched. He didn't speak. Didn't joke.

Because what burned deeper than the fire was that he hadn't been the one to save you.

And then there was Baby—arms behind his head, lounging like always, smirk lazy across his face.

But it didn't reach his eyes.

"She's lucky Abby was the one on shift." He said idly.

Then quieter, so soft it could've been mistaken for a thought:

"...Would've pissed me off if she died before I figured her out."

—

The living room was way too expensive-looking for your taste. It had that unnerving "magazine aesthetic" all neutral tones, polished wood, ambient lighting, and couches that looked too soft to trust.

You stood in the doorway, feeling vaguely like an intruder in a mafia boss' vacation home. You weren't sure which of them decorated the place, but whoever it was had serious control issues and a Pinterest addiction.

Still, you stepped in, slowly, warily. Dressed in what was very obviously a borrowed hoodie and sweatpants that did not belong to you.

It hung awkwardly on your frame: hood heavy, sleeves too long. You didn't know who it belonged to, but if you had to guess...

You tugged at the hem of the hoodie. Baby, probably. It smelled like stupid expensive cologne and arrogance.

Your eyes swept the room. All five of them were there, lounging in strategic positions like they were posing for a concept photo shoot.

Romance was on the couch, legs crossed like a prince who'd seen too much and cared too little. Mystery leaned against the window frame, arms folded, unreadable.

Abby sat on the armrest, brows furrowed, chewing the inside of his cheek. Baby had his feet up on the table like he paid rent here. (He didn't.)

And Jinu, he was standing by the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed straight on you like he could see through your skin and into your skull.

You cleared your throat. The silence didn't move.

"So." You looked around again. "...Who kidnapped me?"

Silence.

Abby exhaled through his nose, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Mystery blinked. Once.

Romance lifted his mug. "Nice to see you're alive."

Baby raised a brow. "That's your opening line?"

"It's a valid question!" You snapped, half-joking. Half not. "One minute I'm passing out in a fire, next minute I'm in luxury hell wearing someone else's clothes and still soup-less. What is this place?"

"Our house." Baby replied, unhelpfully.

You blinked then tilted your head. "You all live together?"

"It's not a home. It's a bribe." Mystery muttered. "Jinu was sick of hearing them whine."

"...Of course." You slowly nodded your head.

No one said anything. It was like they were expecting you to continue, and that you did.

You sighed, dragging your hands down your face. "Okay. Who carried me here? Who decided that 'almost-died-in-a-fire' me should be dropped in idol dorm deluxe instead of a hospital?"

They exchanged looks. Subtle. Measured. Complicated.

Then, finally, Jinu spoke.

"You collapsed." He said, tone flat but deliberate. "Abby carried you out."

Your gaze flicked toward Abby. His jaw was tight, but he didn't meet your eyes.

Jinu continued, "Hospitals ask questions. Paperwork. Witness statements. You weren't exactly in shape to talk. And your sketchbook was still fused to your hands like your life depended on it, so."

He raised a brow, looking directly at you after a little shrug.

"We brought you here."

You stared at him for a second longer. His voice was so calm, so reasonable, it made you want to punch him.

"But why here?" You asked again, incredulous. "We're not even close."

Baby hummed with a lazy gaze. "We noticed."

Romance took another sip of his drink. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Yes… thank you for that." You paused. Your eyes shifted, zeroing in on Abby, slowly, suspiciously. Like something about him was clicking, but not fully.

Like your brain was replaying a memory it didn't know what to do with. Those eyes in the smoke. That gleam. Gold. Vivid and...otherworldly.

Your brows pinched slightly. You tilted your head. Studied him. Not accusatory, not afraid. Just… curious. Fascinated, even.

"You..." You started, the words almost hesitant. "...Were the one who pulled me out?"

Abby stiffened under your gaze but he still kept an expression. "Yeah. So?"

You stared a second longer.

Those golden eyes. The smoke curling. The way the air around him shimmered like static. Like a scene from some fever dream or fantasy

Baby narrowed his eyes. "Why are you looking at him like that?"

You blinked. Realized just how long you'd been staring.

"No reason." You answered, though the memory from the fire flickered behind your eyes like static on a broken screen.

The eyes were mesmerizing but you were sure it didn't belonged to human. It was familiar. You were sure you saw it somewhere...

Just when you were sorting through you brain, an annoying voice disturbed you.

Baby tilted his head, arms still crossed.

"What," He blankly stared. "Did Abby's dramatic hero entrance impress you that much?" His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes wasn't.

"Next time, I'm pulling rank."

You look at him, unimpressed at first then confused the next second because what the fuck does that mean?

You don't bother to ask him because you know only nonsense will come out of that mouth of his.

You turn back to Abby.

He looked away. Fast. It was like your gaze had weighed too much. Like it reached some part of him he wasn't used to letting anyone touch.

Romance raised his brow. "She's never looked at me like that. I'm almost offended."

"It’s nothing." Abby's voice came low, brushing off everything with the kind of grumble people used to hide how flustered they were.

Which just made you stare again.

Because seriously. You saw something. You remembered something. But now he was back to normal. Just a smug, sharp-eyed pain in the ass. The golden light? Gone.

What the hell was that?

"You were... glowing." You muttered under your breath. Mostly to yourself.

Jinu stared, as if scanning your face. You don't notice because you were too focused on him. He's irritated again.

But he quickly cools himself because of your reactions. They seem...genuine. This really does make him question his suspicions of you.

And for some reason, he felt a little light just by the thought.

Which is why he spoke up in Abby's defense. "Yeah, well. That's Abby. Can't turn off his ego."

Laughter scattered from the others. Cheap. Casual. Like they were all in on some joke you didn't quite get.

Romance raised his glass again. "It's the lighting, sweetheart."

You didn't respond. Just nodded slowly. But the thought stayed.

They're hiding something.

And you were going to figure out what.

Mystery said nothing. His eyes were on you, sharp and unreadable, as if memorizing how you moved now that you were conscious again.

You inhaled, long and slow. The hoodie sleeves shifted against your arms, brushing the gauze. It stung a little.

Your eyes lowered.

"I know what you're all thinking." You said after a while. "You think I was an idiot for grabbing the bag."

Abby tensed.

You kept going. Quiet now. Calm in that way that came after too much adrenaline had already burned through you.

"But you don't get it. That is my life."

You gestured toward your bag, half-tucked behind you on the couch.

"My tablet, my sketchbook, everything's in there. The story I've been working on. The drafts. The dumb character charts. The references. My notes. I don't even back anything up."

You laughed softly, bitter and breathless. "I know it's dumb. But if I let all of that burn? It would've felt like I died in that fire too."

They didn't interrupt.

"I don't have family to replace those things. No friends I'd want to bother. No backup savings to fall on. I worked my ass off to afford that tablet. Took me years to even think I deserved it."

You looked at them now. Not hostile. Not tearful. Just tired.

"So if you think what I did was reckless," Gently, your lips curved upwards. "Yeah. It probably was."

You smiled, but it wasn't smug. Or embarrassed. Or shy.

It was something else entirely—soft, calm, and resigned, like someone who had long since made peace with the weight of their choices.

A smile that held no apologies. Only quiet resolve.

And for a moment, it stunned them all.

Jinu blinked. Because that smile—it wasn't like the one he saw that night, when you knew of his clumsy act of stumbling on those crates and called him, "The leader of losers".

Considering the sight, what he heard felt nothing close for him to be offended.

Because this? This one glowed.

It warmed like firelight. Cut through like sunlight. It settled somewhere low and unspoken in their chests, and none of them liked how that felt.

Maybe it was filtered through the haze of the moment. Maybe it was exhaustion.

Or maybe they were already far too gone to tell the difference.

Because even Baby didn't make a smart remark.

Romance looked away.

And Abby clenched his jaw.

"But I'd do it again." The words left your lips with a kind of calm that didn't need defending.

And for some reason that terrified them.

The silence that followed wasn't judgmental. It was quiet. Reflective. A strange heaviness that made the living room feel even more cavernous than before.

Baby, for once, didn't have a comeback.

Romance looked off to the side.

Mystery didn't move, but the edge in his posture softened just a bit.

Abby looked at you like he'd just swallowed his own words.

"...We didn't say it was stupid." He muttered, eyes now meeting yours as if he saying he means it.

You didn't respond.

Instead, you eased yourself down onto the couch, slow and stiff, like your joints were made of rusted metal. A groan slipped out. That was... out of the way, sort of.

Not exactly, since they still looked like they wanted to pry open that sketchbook and dig through it like some cursed relic.

Let them forget.

Silence settled over the room. Not tense, but not comfortable either. You shifted, uneasy. Were they not satisfied with what you said? Or did they still want to bring up the drawings?

Gasp. What if they already saw what's inside?

...Nah. If they did, they'd give it away by looking extra punchable. And knowing them, they'd bring up already since they acted like it'll end them if they didn't.

Or maybe, it was what you said that stuck with them. You frowned.

You put those thoughts aside when you felt like you were missing something else. Something much more important.

"...What time is it?" The words left you slowly, like you were denying reality just by speaking them aloud.

Baby glanced at his phone with the same expression someone had when checking stocks they knew were plummeting. "Almost six."

"In the morning?" You blinked then sat up a little straighter.

He gave you a look, and the others didn't even try to hide theirs.

"No." Baby replied flatly.

"Shit— work." You bolted upright. Regretted it instantly, though.

A sharp, "Ngh—" tore from your throat as pain shot up your arm—fast, hot, and blinding. Not from a new wound, but from how suddenly you moved. Muscles tensed. The cut screamed.

You instinctively gripped your forearm, the sting making your vision swim.

They all reacted to the sound.

But Mystery was at your side so fast it made you half-forget the pain. One hand hovered over your shoulder, the other steadying your wrist like you were made of glass. Carefully, gently, he guided you back into the couch.

Your breath came out shaky, but you carried on anyway, like your entire life hadn't just gone up in smoke.

"Oh god. I'm no longer late— I'm absent. I'm AWOL. My boss is going to kill me—"

"You were literally unconscious five hours ago." Jinu said flatly from his seat, eyeing the demon now hovering way too close beside you.

The glare didn't go unnoticed. Mystery merely tilted his head, cool and unreadable, but didn't move away.

"That doesn't mean I won't still get fired!" You said, gesturing wildly and immediately hissing in pain again.

"Do you want to collapse?" Baby spoke from the other couch, throwing a pillow at you—gently. "Sit down, idiot."

You shot him a look but slumped back anyway, defeated.

"Work." You muttered it like a prayer, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it might grant divine guidance. "If I'm not dead from the fire, I'll be dead from HR."

"Yeah, and?" Baby drawled without missing a beat. "Lazarus walked it off."

Romance whistled low. "She's really back."

Mystery turned to the others, his arm still over your shoulder. He finds himself not wanting to let go. "Do people always prioritize capitalism over survival?"

"No." Abby calmly replied. "Just the ones who've been traumatized into thinking rest is a luxury."

You ignored them. Or tried to. You were too busy scanning the room for your phone like it might magically reappear charged and full of good news. Spoiler: it didn't.

"I'll probably need to start looking for another job…" You blurt out the thought, though not that loud.

Everyone froze.

Even the air seemed to pause.

Then—

"Hold on," Jinu said, voice deceptively calm. "What do you mean, another job?"

You blinked. "I mean… my boss is probably pissed. I didn't even call in. I could be fired. Or put on probation. Or sent to hell." You paused to take in a breath. "Again."

"That's a lot of escalation." Romance muttered.

But you kept going, words speeding up the more you tried to reason your way out.

"Even if they're generous, I still can't afford to just sit here and recover. I don't have savings. Or family I can ask for help. Or a rich benefactor. And now that my place is gone, I have to work twice as hard. Triple. Quadruple. I'll need to take commissions. Maybe open up an online store. Maybe start teaching classes? Do you think I could do online tutoring?—"

You kept spiraling, your voice climbing with every frantic thought. You stood halfway, chest tight, brain moving faster than your body could follow—

And then a sharp, low "Stop." cut through the room like a blade.

You flinched, eyes landing on Mystery.

Still beside you on the couch, he didn't raise his voice or move much. One hand hovered near your wrist, like earlier, but his head had tilted again, hair casting shadows over his eyes.

Your mouth went agape before you slowly said, "I'm just thinking aloud—"

"Too loud." His voice was soft. Flat, yes, but not annoyed. Just... direct and true.

You slowly sank back into the cushion, frown tugging at your lips while your head moved to lay on Mystery's shoulder which he let you, happily.

"...You're switching jobs?" Baby asked, sitting up like you'd insulted his entire existence after eyeing his friend like Jinu.

"Why would you do that?" Abby's brows drew low, eyes sharp. Like your words were personally offensive.

Romance looked downright wounded, blinking slowly like you'd just told them you were abandoning them to join a rival band. "You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious." You answered quickly with a raised brow. "I can't freeload off you guys. I'm not even supposed to be here."

You gestured vaguely at the lavish living room, then down at yourself—dressed in someone else's oversized hoodie and sweatpants, your bag clutched like a life preserver.

Jinu, sprawled on the opposite couch, let out a low scoff which was barely audible, but sharp.

"Your building went up in flames." His voice was casual, but the sarcasm in it cut clean. "Forgive us for not letting you burn to a crisp."

You looked at him as if you were stabbed. "You didn't even do the rescuing."

His smile twitched, less amused, more insulted. "Right, because delegating life-saving doesn't count when the damsel doesn't remember it properly."

You scoffed, offended at being called a 'damsel'. "Oh, please. Delegating? You mean standing around and bossing people like you’re allergic to actual labor?"

Jinu huffed, arms crossing over his chest. "Someone has to coordinate things."

"Uh-huh," You drawled. "Just like how someone had to 'coordinate' me carrying three crates of stage props alone when it was only my second day at work while you stood by the fan with an iced Americano."

He squinted, clearly remembering. "First of all, it was hot. Second, I said you could take two trips."

You gasped. "You offered me suffering."

"You needed the cardio!"

"And you need a new personality."

Someone (probably Romance) muttered, "This is getting weirdly domestic."

Baby shrugged. "It's still funny." Yeah, he's rooting for you to roast Jinu's ass.

Neither of you heard them.

"Glad to know you’re feeling well enough to throw insults." He said flatly.

You glared at him. "Glad to know you're still allergic to gratitude."

He looked like he was about to retort, jaw tightening—but then he caught himself. A beat of silence passed before he muttered under his breath, almost too low to catch, "Next time I'll make sure I’m the one carrying you out of the wreckage."

He looked away like he hadn't meant to say that part out loud.

...

Was he... sulking?

You stared. Then, slowly, turned your head toward Baby as you felt like recalling something.

"Next time, I'm pulling rank."

You shot them a weird look "...What is it with you guys and your weird fantasy rescue scenarios?"

You went silent as realization came to you. It was comical, funny, and the other not really. "Wait—are you competing over who gets to save me next?"

Baby said too fast. "No."

And Jinu synched with him. "Obviously not."

Romance didn't even pretend. "…You kinda are."

Abby just raised a brow, watching like this was a circus and you were the prize at the center ring.

Beside you, Mystery just shrugged.

You blinked at all of them, deeply disturbed. "Okay. That's it. You're all insane. Did I hit my head or accidentally join a cult?"

Baby snorted, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

Jinu clicked his tongue. The blush creeping up his neck didn't help his case either.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, it hit you: They weren't just being weird. They were mad. Maybe even… jealous?

You stared harder.

...

Nah. Couldn't be. Right?

Before whatever thoughts could cross your mind, Jinu cleared his throat. "We called in."

You blinked. "?"

Romance leaned back on the couch, balancing a mug in one hand like a drama queen. "Told them you were in a fire. Big one. Medical leave. Emergency protocol. Whole song and dance."

You eyed him suspiciously yet at the same time hopeful. "And they believed you?"

"You were in a fire." Abby said dryly. "Not exactly a stretch."

"They said something about 'a blessing in disguise,'" Romance added with a wave of his mug. "Then gave you a week off."

Your brain short-circuited. "A week?"

"Paid." Jinu said, smug as hell. It's like he truly understands you despite only knowing you for days. "You're welcome."

You sat there in stunned silence, blinking like someone just told you your debt was forgiven and also here's a free puppy.

You stared. "Paid…as in money?"

"What other kind is there?" Baby deadpanned.

You slumped back against the couch so fast it looked rehearsed. "I take it back. I do believe in miracles."

Romance said, cool as ever. "You were starting to look tragic. Not hot-tragic. Just tragic. We couldn't allow that."

You shot him a weak glare but couldn't even bring yourself to argue. You were tired. Sore. Mentally cooked. But hey—money.

...And then it hit you again.

You sat up slowly, glancing at your bag on the table. "...I should call my friend. Maybe I can crash at her place until I figure things out."

You reached for your phone— still dead.

"Charger?" You asked hopefully, eyes scanning the guys like maybe one of them would toss you one like a lifeline.

There was a beat.

Baby stretched his arms above his head. "Oh no. I forgot. I have to rehearse."

"Same." Romance nodded solemnly. "Gotta polish my high note."

"I left my charger at the other mansion." Abby said smoothly that it somewhat brought irritation out of you.

Mystery stood up and walked away from you. "Mine's broken."

You turned to Jinu, your last hope. The smug one. The one who probably had a drawer full of tech accessories for aesthetic reasons alone.

"No, you can't have it." He tilted his head with a lazy smile, like you'd just asked him for a kiss on national television. "Mine's here. I just don't feel like sharing."

You stared. "Are you serious?"

"As the fire that almost barbecued you," He said with a slow blink. "Tragic, really. If only someone had... oh, I don't know—saved your charger too."

Insufferable. Certified king of the losers. Crown him already.

You squinted. "Are you— are you actually blaming me for not packing electronics before fleeing a burning building?"

He shrugged. He's not angry about that, okay? He's just… helping with your mood. That's all.

Not still dwelling on how Abby stepped out of the fire with you in his arms as smoke curled behind him like some kind of movie scene, your limp body soot-stained and half-gone, but still clinging to that damn sketchbook like it was more vital than oxygen.

And he's definitely not thinking about how your fingers refused to let go, even unconscious. Or how he stood there, frozen for a second too long, just staring at it.

At you.

Wondering what the hell could be so important you'd rather burn than leave it behind.

"I'm just saying," He said, a little too casually, "your priorities were a little dramatic."

You let out a slow, murderous inhale. "You are the worst."

He waved his forefinger. "Incorrect. I'm top tier. The charger, however, is in a drawer. All alone. Wondering if you really need it... or if this is just an elaborate excuse to flee."

Your mouth fell open. "It's a phone charger, not an interrogation!"

He grinned wider, propping his chin on his knuckles. "Maybe. But you're awfully desperate for a getaway device."

You glared. Hard. In your head, you were already drop-kicking Jinu into a volcano.

"I hate you." You muttered under your breath. Loud enough to not be subtle, but quiet enough to not be technically rude.

"Hmm?" Jinu tilted his head like a smug cat. "Did you say something, sweetheart?"

You narrowed your eyes and pointed a damning finger at all of them. "You're all full of shit."

No one even flinched.

You turned to your bag with the intensity of a woman about to stage a coup. Maybe, hopefully, the charger would magically appear in there.

Maybe there would be hope. Sanity. A single, blessed cord to rescue you from this absurd, testosterone-fueled fever dream.

You opened it.

Nada.

Just the same things you already saw, oh, there's something new: Your fried nerves, and your will to live hanging by a thread!

You slumped back with a groan, muttering through clenched teeth, "I stopped believing in real magic years ago."

You grumbled louder this time, bordering on feral. "This is not a manhwa. This is a hostage situation in Gucci sweatpants."

There was a beat of silence.

"Five grown-ass men," You snapped, flinging your arms wide. A mistake, really. "And not ONE charger? WOW."

Unbeknownst to you, who's now sitting defeatedly and dejectedly on the couch from the boys pov, they were speaking amongst themselves.

Romance was the first to hum thoughtfully. "Of course, I agree. If she lives with us, it'll be much easier to keep watch." He paused, his grin growing. "And you know... the challenge."

"The what now?" Jinu asked, arms crossed, one brow lifting. It feels like he's already heard of that before.

"Getting that reaction out of her. You know the one. The flustered, wide-eyed, blushing mess." Romance practically purred. "It'll be cute. I might walk out shirtless tomorrow."

"Abby already does that." Baby deadpanned without looking up, tone neutral but eyes sharp. It should've ended there, but no—he was already planning something, judging by the quiet smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. Demon things. Whatever.

"Then I'll forget pants."

Abby gave him a side glance. The kind that said I'm thinking about committing a crime.

"Kidding." Romance said with a one-shouldered shrug and a wink.

...Was he?

Jinu rolled his eyes like it was his full-time job. "Can we focus for ten seconds without someone threatening public indecency?"

No one answered.

Of course they didn’t.

He sighed heavily, an eldest sibling with feral triplets kind of sigh, and dragged a hand down his face before continuing, "Look. She's injured. Her place is gone. Not to mention, still suspicious as hell—"

"She's always suspicious." Baby chimed in.

"Exactly." Jinu snapped his fingers, pointing like that somehow made his point divine law. "So we throw her off. Play it smart. Show generosity. Then... offer the deal."

He looked up, somewhat proud of the idea he thought of. "She stays. Temporarily."

Behind the practiced nonchalance, something in Jinu's voice barely wavered. Just slightly. Like he was already preparing for her to say no, and hated the thought more than he wanted to admit.

Because yeah, she was suspicious. She was also stubborn. Hard to read. Even harder to keep still.

And yet, the charger incident said everything he didn't want to say out loud. How they all moved at once. Like a hive mind with one target. She'd become... something. A presence. A part of the routine. Something their world started to adjust around without realizing.

Jinu knew the others felt it too. He wasn't just saying stay for convenience.

Even if that's what he'd tell himself later.

You looked up just then, narrowing your eyes. "...What was that tone?"

"You can stay with us," Jinu repeated, cool and casual. "Temporarily."

You stared like he'd just offered to sell a haunted house. "Why?"

"Because your building's ash, and this one isn't." He shrugged. "Unless you'd rather camp out on the sidewalk, this is your best option."

Your arms crossed instinctively—ow. You hid the wince, kept the poker face all while considering his words. Half. "That sounds suspiciously like the start of a trap."

"If it was a trap, you'd already be caught." Abby muttered from across the room.

Your head whipped around. "...What?"

He blinked, expression unreadable. "What?"

You looked around at all of them. You consider all their actions suspicious. "Okay. But like. What's the catch?"

"Sketchbook." Jinu answered smoothly with a smirk.

Your entire expression changed. "What about it?"

"You give us access." He said, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket with all the casual smugness of a demon dealing contracts. "Part of the payment."

You opened your mouth but close it. You processed what the hell was happening for a brief second. "You want money and my drawings?"

"Who said anything about money?" Jinu blinked as if that thought never crossed his mind but he continued to play it cool.

You gawked. "That's not payment. That's artistic blackmail."

"We're offering free rent, home-cooked meals, and around-the-clock bodyguard service," Romance said with a wink. "That's at least a subscription tier."

You glared at mister suave. "Soup isn't currency!"

"Tell that to the cavemen." He deadpanned with a shrug.

You turned toward the others, narrowing your eyes for the nth time. "Did any of you even sneak a peek while I was unconscious?”

Silence.

Oh. Your instincts failed you—

"No." Abby said firmly, straight-backed like he'd never been tempted.

Romance tilted his head. "Maybe."

"I tried," Baby admitted without shame. "But your demon guard dog wouldn't let us."

You blinked, genuinely confused. "My what—?"

"Mystery." Baby pointed lazily toward the dark figure. "He's been growling at the bag every time we got close."

You turned to Mystery, who sat calmly at the edge of the room, hair still obscuring most of his face. He blinked. Shrugged like the world's most aloof cryptid.

You stared. Then, against your better judgment, you smiled. Wide and amused.

"Aww. Good boy." You cooed, reaching up and giving his hair a few appreciative ruffles like he was a damn golden retriever.

Mystery didn't move. But he paused. And then you swore you saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Was he... pleased with this?

You couldn't tell. But one thing was certain, you were liking him more than ever. He'd guarded your sketchbook like a hellhound with a personal vendetta, and honestly? That kind of loyalty hit all the right spots.

Abby blinked and so did the others.

"...I'm the one who saved you," He said, voice flat but clearly wounded, "and all I got was a thank you?"

You didn't even look at him right away. You were still petting Mystery. Beaming. Radiating pure joy like you'd just been handed a puppy and a raise.

"Thanks, Abby." You said sweetly, eyes still glued to the former beside you like he'd just earned himself Best Boy of the Year.

"No." Abby walked over in two long strides, looking thoroughly betrayed. "Too late. You pet the cryptid and gave him heart-eyes. I'm offended now."

You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing.

"But he's a very good cryptid." You turned to Mystery again, ruffling his hair with the same reverence one might give a sacred beast. "Aren't you, baby?"

Mystery didn’t respond. But his eyes softened, and his posture shifted like he didn't quite know what to do with the praise. His ears might've even turned pink again.

Baby blinked. Then slowly turned his head toward Mystery, deadpan.

"Baby?" His expression didn't shift, but the silence that followed was... threatening. Both Jinu and Romance glanced at him.

Oh, he'd remember this. Deliberately ignored and name-stolen? Unbelievable. Unforgivable.

Meanwhile, Abby stood stiff behind you, staring like he'd just witnessed a robbery. Before you could register what was happening, you felt the air shift.

Abby moved behind the couch. The warmth of his presence hit first, then—

"All right," His voice dipped low. "Let's get you back to your room, babe."

"What room—" You barely got the words out before he scooped you and your bag into his arms like it was nothing.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. "...I can walk, you know."

"I know," Abby smirked, adjusting his hold easily. "But isn’t it nice to be in my arms?"

God help you—it was.

He smelled like danger and expensive cologne, the kind with top notes of sin and bankruptcy. His grip was steady, almost annoyingly so. Your head hit his shoulder and stayed there, too tired to argue. Too comfortable to move.

Being carried like this made you feel like royalty. A very exhausted, emotionally overwhelmed, hoodie-wearing queen.

As you were relishing in the feeling, you realized something. "Didn't you try to carry me yesterday, too?"

Abby chuckled. The smile he shot down at you was unfairly soft. "Don’t ruin the moment."

The others watched silently. Well. Mostly.

Mystery tilted his head. His eyes narrowed. He looked like he was doing the mental math on how fast he could sprint across the room and lift you without pulling a hamstring.

Romance, still holding his bowl of soup like it was fine wine, sighed and rose. "Fine. I'll reheat the soup. Again. Maybe this time I'll get head pats too."

Jinu muttered something under his breath that sounded like "disgusting favoritism," followed by a scowl so intense it might've set your sketchbook on fire inside that bag with sheer hatred.

He's starting to hate it despite his original goals.

And Baby? He just snorted. "You're all embarrassing."

But he didn't leave.

He stayed leaning on the armrest like a statue, eyes half-lidded but watchful, the way a predator watches prey they're too fond of to eat. Yet.

—

When Abby finally reached your room and set you down onto the plush sheets, you sighed. Not just from the physical relief, but something else too—something warmer. Softer.

Your body still ached. You were still tired. But for the first time in what felt like forever, your heart felt... steady.

You looked up at him. And before he could open his mouth and say something obnoxious like "You're falling for me already, huh?"—you beat him to it.

"Thanks again, Abby."

He blinked.

Oh. So you could be soft.

He smiled, and this one wasn't cocky. It was almost gentle.

"You're welcome, princess."

You blinked.

The word landed tenderly, too easily, like it wasn't meant to shake you, and that's exactly why it did.

Princess.

Your brain short-circuited.

What was this? A manhwa? Why did it sound like something the male lead says right before he realizes he's falling?

First it was Mystery, now him.

You hated how your heart stuttered at them. Absolutely hated it.

Still, before he could gloat, or smirk, or do something stupid like offer to tuck you in like some smug human-shaped menace, you sat up quick, deflect, dodge, and reached into your bag.

You pulled out the sketchbook.

Abby blinked. He looked from the book, to you, then back again. He wasn't grinning now—just watching.

"Considering you did save me and..." You averted your eyes, feeling strangely warm. "You guys offered to let me stay."

"So you're saying yes?" His voice came too quick, too eager. There was something under it—something a little breathless.

You peeked at him, narrowing your eyes just enough to mask the heat in your face. "...Are you more excited about that than the sketchbook?"

Abby didn't answer.

Which meant yes.

And you hated how cute that was. Not the answer. Him. You hated that the corners of your mouth were twitching and your heart did that annoying little jump.

He noticed. Oh, he noticed. His smirk returned, but it was slow. Soft. Not cocky, just pleased.

You shoved the sketchbook into his hands like it was a bribe to shut him up. "Advance payment. That's all."

"Mm." He accepted it, brushing your fingers on purpose. "You're blushing."

You deadpan an expression. It's a skill at this point. "I'm tired."

He chuckled. "You're cute."

"I'm choosing to ignore that."

"You just thanked me."

You glare at him. Were you trying to be defensive or protecting your dignity? Perhaps both or you're too flustered inside to think straight. "I was being polite."

He smiled, and this one wasn't smug. It was… gentle. Soft enough to hurt. "You're welcome, princess."

You were losing. And your face is heating up again but before you'd let him see a glimpse, over your weaking dignity, you yawned then curled under the blanket.

Tomorrow feels tiring, you just know it. You'd hear chaos. Maybe Jinu would lose his mind. Maybe Romance would cry over one of the doodles. Maybe Baby would leak one page just to be petty.

But right now? You were too warm. Too tired and too spiteful to care.

Abby lingered at your bedside a moment longer.

And just when you thought he'd leave in silence, his voice dropped—quiet and deliberate, like it wasn't meant to be heard, but he needed you to.

"Don't bother running, princess."

His voice was a whisper, soft as a sigh, but the weight behind it pressed down like a promise.

"You're not getting away from us."

There was no edge in it. No threat. Just a simple, terrifying truth—delivered with the calm certainty of someone who’d already decided what mattered.

Your breath hitched. "...The hell does that mean?"

But Abby was already turning, walking toward the door like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just say something that made your whole brain short-circuit.

"Sleep well." He tossed over his shoulder, a smirk in his voice.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And you lay there blinking, heart loud in your ears, wondering if you should be terrified…

…or maybe just a little thrilled.

For the plot.

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kittycrashsposts · 15 days ago

Text

Yandere! Saja Boys x Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

This was the beginning of the end. For you, you'd never wreaked any havoc in your life ever.

When young, you were a quiet little thing; left to your own devices, you'd scribble, draw your own little pictures and whisper to them in your head. Your mum would pat you on the head. You were the 'easy one'. The 'helpful child'.

But now. Oh, god, now. The Saja boys had killed. And they wouldn't stop saying two words. For you.

You were crying. They were demons. They'd lived for centuries. They've fought through wars with different realms. They held the allure of a thousand showmen. They've commanded. They've been worshipped. They'd told you stories.

They'd glossed over the gory parts just for you. But now, you had to face it. In the end, it wasn't just darkness and misery they had in them.

It was bloodlust. Those demonic genes. They felt. And they felt hard. They'd felt for you. It had swept them off their feet. Now, look at the aftermath.

You were crying, and they were in your room. Didn't apologise. Or explain. They didn't say anything. They watched you. They came right up close to you and held you when you screamed and kicked and thrashed. They made sure you were well fed.

Two fucking days it took for you to run out of tears. To stop absoulutely bawling everytime you saw them.

All the time. Nine-to-five. Five-to-nine. They were on you. Staring. Taking the kisses. Taking the cuddles. Offering you consolation that was so full with their feelings. And yet to you it came off as so empty.

You were helpless. Bedraggled in the sheets, your eyes were blank. Romance's turn, it was to take care of you. Your bedsides were all void of sharp objects. You were blaming yourself. He wanted to offer that you kill them instead but, oh wait, they can't die.

But they love you. So you can't die either. You poor fucking pathetic thing.

At first, he was delighted when you didn't edge away from his kisses like he was crawling with maggots. Then he realized by the slowing of your heart that you were punishing yourself by giving into them.

Abby was on cloud nine when he took you in his lap, pressing your head to his shoulder and you merely slumped on him.

Jinu was slowly losing it. He'd known you weren't selfish like other humans. But he'd calculated wrong either way. You were a deep, deep empathetic angel. You would never accept their murderous urges that stemmed from their attraction to you. You'd never stand for hurting others. And look, when it had happened, you'd just about died.

It was a pivotal instant wherein which they'd been lounging about your house, doing this and that but only thinking of you. When a small crash could be heard from your room. It was amplified through their demonic hearing and ripped through their guts like an inferno.

You were staring in the body length mirror of your room. broken vase to your neck. Bawling your eyes out.

Since then, they'd never left your side. They never slept either way, but with you they kept their eyes wide open. What if they blinked and you dissapeared?

They'd never been so afraid of losing something.

So, to say in the least, for Jinu, things were spiralling out of control.

Baby was nasty. But that all died down once he saw you wailing into your pillow. Your small, small body in a broken heap in your bed.

"But we love you so much, doesn't that earn us any forgiveness??" Romance had tried, you didn't reply. He'd formerly known it was to no avail.

They were demons. You'd taught them how to feel human again. And he knew how unforgivable it was to take someone's life. Repeatedly. But they'd still done it for you. He wanted to tell you that again, pile it upon the other hundreds of times he'd told you. But you were beginning to send him these really dirty looks. You didn't like to hear it was his guess.

Your bed was littered with flower bouquets and these little trinkets. Mystery. You could smell that cologne on them.

"You're divine." He rasped at night, laying them at your feet like a filial piety to a celestial being.

They were compelling. Very. But not enough to break you out of your misery.

Abby found you on your kitchen floor once. A photo frame of your late boyfriend in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. You were eating it straight from the packet.

"Hey, hey hey-- what are you doin'?? You're gonna get a tummy-ache." He crouched, large and splayed across your stomach as he talked.

"M'hungry." You mumbled.

Abbott had never taken care of anyone before. For the first time, he carried you to the couch. Making sure you were comfortable, he draped you with a blanket. Before skedaddling back to the kitchen.

He presented you with this instagram-worthy sandwich. You'd looked at it. Then looked up at him. He was motionless, muscles coiled up tight. Waiting for a reaction.

"Thanks." It was emotionless. The most insincere thanks you'd ever given. But Abby had ascended to Nirvana. A huge, huge smile grew upon his face. His eyes rolled back right before he hugged you tight.

You didn't respond. He subconsciously listened for your heart. It was slow and dreary. And right then, he felt something he hadn't felt in centuries. A pang in the left side of his chest. You were shattered. And it was their fault.

You stared at the sandwich. You were about to eat a sandwich made by a murderer. More ridiculous yet, this murderer had made you a sandwich.

You were eating it while he switched on TV. Thankfully not one of their performances. And sank in beside you. You moved away, he pulled you back.

Your lids were heavy.

"I want to forget."

It was the first demand you'd made of him. Of any of them ever. Outside of wanting them to leave or to leave you alone or any of that crack.

Abby stared. He knew it, it was at the near tip of his tongue. What was that thing human's so badly craved when they wanted to forget?

Ah, he remembers now. So, he took out his phone and got typing, and 15 minutes later the four others arrived from their gig with bags full of soju and whiskey. The expensive kind.

You wordlessly reached for a bottle and chugged. It burned your throat. The warmth travelled down your body and unfurled in your limbs. You gave a shuddering sigh and leaned back.

They took the opportunity to sit close to you. They listened to your lamentings. You cursed and yelled and hit them. You cried. Pretty and soft and quiet sobs, then heaving and loud, face scrunched adorably.

You told stories about your dead boyfriend. They were displeased at that, but listened nonetheless. The whole time they were here, you wouldn't look them in the eyes. Now, you stared into their non-existent souls while you talked. You laughed out of anguish. They took turns holding you while you cried more.

They checked the time and it was 3am. You were tearing up in your sleep.

Baby stroked your cheek and you opened your damp lashes to look up at him. You were on Romance's lap. A pillow under your head. He was out cold on the couch. So was Abby and Malak, his blue-ish grey locks still covering the majority of his flawless face even as he rested.

"If it's unbearable, you can use me to forget." Baby's deep voice was resonant in your inebriate mind.

You weren't yourself anymore. Delirious. Wasted. "What use would you be of to me?" Your voice was soft. Could break at any moment.

"I can give you my body to satify you. Close your eyes."

You did. Beni carried you up the stairs and to his room. Your head on his shoulder, legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

He'd told you many times that he'd get you in his bed somehow because he always got whichever girl he wanted in his bed. But this wasn't how you, or him, had ever imagined it playing out.

And fuck if he'd lost all if any of his cockiness that he had while making that promise to you. He was a lost, reverent man between your legs.

You were looking up at him, hair spread across his silk-encased pillow like a dark halo. Eyes hazy and half-lidded. He was going to make you hate him more. But gods, he could never let this opportunity go to waste.

He leaned down now and whispered in your ear. A low, raspy, smooth and effortlessly knee-weakening cry for your love,

"I want to feel you in my bones."

You weren't for any of this feelings bullshit. Hell you could barely even think, let alone return sentiments to your demon captor-now-murderer.

"Mmmm...y'said you'd help me forget. Make me forget." You slurred. Your voice got that high, breathy tone to it at the end. The pitch that told him you were in unspeakable pain even now while it was depressed by alcohol.

You weren't in your right mind. In truth, he didn't want you to hate him more. He shouldn't do this. But you hated him so much already. Would it make a difference??

He was going feral inside as he looked down at you now. So tempting, with your hands above your head. You fluttered your lashes so prettily. Pink lips open and inviting. An unspeakable allure. Your existence itself enticed them to the point to which they could just go mad.

"Little minx." He spoke roughly, smacking a kiss off your cheek with his hand in your hair, before going down. So pliant and helpless and unwillingly willing like this, you were doing things to him.

If you had known you would have been taken advantage of in this way, would you have downed all that hard liquor?

You were vaguely aware of a cold thumb hooking the waistband of your sweats. Your whole body jolted. Baby looked up at you from between your legs, dragging it down slowly.

You couldn't see it but he was fervent. Voracious. But, he also wanted to savour every little inch of you so badly. You were just so beautiful. Poor Beni, he was so lustful and so lost.

"Men." You breathed. Then yelped abruptly when he drove the flat of his tongue down your clothed folds.

"Malak would kill for this." Beni laughed lowly. Harshly, as if he couldn't believe his luck. He'd abandoned all morals that he'd tried to adopt with you. Pathetic.

One taste, and he'd lost it. You were just so dripping wet. Your panties were yanked. One arm locked around your belly and the other around your left thigh, holding your legs open, you couldn't escape. Baby looked at your glistening folds. "Pretty." He only wanted one thing tonight.

"W-Wah!!" Your back arched. You sobered up for a split second but it all went up in smoke. Because he'd latched on. Your whimpers turned to urgent moans. Moans to yells and screams. He was devastatingly good with his mouth.

Baby sucked. And licked. And sucked some more. And you were oh-so sweet. Not just the taste. But your reactions. Your voice as you yelled out his name, warning him of your approaching peak.

You'd made a mistake by doing that, by the way. He pulled back, staring at your twitching hole, your glistening folds. Swollen clit. It was for a mere moment. Before he absoulutely delved in. You screamed as he redoubled his efforts, chasing your climax ruthlessly.

With a high-pitched shriek, your legs convulsed and you made a mess of his lower face. Your essence dripped down his chin and he gulped it all up.

"Mmmh-- Lemme go... don't got anymore left." He was sucking and pistoning his tongue deep into your sopping hole long after licking everything up, looking for more. Gotta drink every drop. Pushing him away in the aftershocks? Yeah, he was having none of that. You're riding it out, no questions asked.

Tired and spent, you pushed his head away and turned onto your side. He curled in with you.

You clutched him. Sprigs of happiness bloomed in his chest and he pulled you in, holding you even tighter.

You woke up in the morning confused and destroyed with a pounding headache. Your pants were gone. You were bundled up between a pair of arms holding you to a firm chest.

You didn't know what it was, that made you feel so filthy. But here you were, lying against another male body that wasn't your boyfriend. Your bottom half completely bare under the blanket.

Disoriented and completely clueless, you sat up, ignoring the set of arms still clasped around your waist. You didn't want to see. It wasn't rocket science; You'd gotten piss-drunk. One of them had been scummy enough to take advantage.

"[Y/N]...."

However, that deep voice was the one that you least expected to hear. You jolted, and slowly turned your head. It was Beni. Of all of them, he was the most withdrawn. Had he been holding himself in?

You scooted back. He tightened his arms. The blanket had slipped off. Desperate, you pull down your t-shirt.

But his eyes were solely on your visage. The darkness of your large eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that, [Y/N]? Like I...used you."

Beni felt a spark of indignation rush through his veins. You had both enjoyed it. Why couldn't you just accept what they could give you?

The worst part was, really, he couldn't smell and anger off of you. The hate toward him was palpable. But much, much more than that..... the self hatred was the most potent emotion he could recognize.

He hadn't realized his arms had loosened. You were already off the bed, tugging on the rest of your attire hurriedly.

"Damn, was I just a one-night stand for you??"

The carnal allure dripped off of his shirtless form even when you couldn't see him. It was clear he was trying to appear a helpless virgin, used and abandoned. Or was he even trying?

You turn around to see him propped up on an elbow, on his side, facing you. He gazed up at you with pure bedroom eyes. Beneath all those colorful oversized shirts... this man was actually as chiselled as the rest of them. Just a smaller build. You took a step back.

You would protest and say that you were drunk. Instead you just gave him a nasty, filthy side eye. And curses waterfalled from your mouth.

The fucker had the nerve to laugh. Laugh at you. "Take it easy, [Y/N]. If it helps, all I did was give you head."

"Yeah well suck it again." You gave him the finger.

"Gladly." His voice dragged out in a sinful purr. He wasn't kidding. He really fucking wanted it.

You slammed out the door, eyes wide.

You couldn't face it. You couldn't face anything that was happening to you right now.

But when you got to the sitting room, he was casually lounging on the couch. Hair combed out and all. "You can't run from this, [Y/N]. Run from us."

"Watch me."

You turned and rushed face-first into a firm chest. Romance looked down at you, find brow raised. "[Y/N]??"

You backed up,, shoulders tensed. He caught you by them. He could smell the scents on you. Sex. Self-loathing.

He looked to Beni and back at you. Your dishevelled form, small and flushed and so withered.

Beni at first couldn't comprehend the punch the was delivered to his face. When he did, he was unbothered. He leaned back on the couch. "We got her drunk to ease her worries...not so that you could do...that!!"

"Why now??" Baby deadpanned.

"What?"

"Why are you pretending to be a good person now? Because she's here? If you were in my position, we all know you would have done the same."

Jinu and Abby teleported immediately at the sound of an impending feud between their group.

They never fought. As demons, they never really cared as long as they got what they wanted. And since their goal was the same, they knew exactly how to move in sync to get closer to that goal.

You watched as Baby tackled Romance to the ground, purple symbols crawling up every inch of his body and reaching his face, eyes glowing bright gold

Abby couldn't believe his eyes. He laughed. Romance and Baby turned his way, eyes flashing. "What are you laughing at?"

Jinu lunged, pushing them apart. "What are you doing?"

"Romance is being annoying."

"Beni took advantage of [Y/N]"

You hicuuped, stepping back when Jinu turned to you. His eyes were soft. "[Y/N]...what did Beni do to you?"

You sharply dodged, quickly speaking, "This has nothing to do with me."

But you were rubbing your eyes. Your throat was tightening, little whimpers of pain threatening to exit. What you couldn't face a few minutes earlier was coming crashing down on you.

You were rolling around with Baby last night. Also one of the murderers. You had been disloyal to your boyfriend. It hadn't even been a year since he passed. You didn't want to admit it.

Jinu, noticing your obvious deflection, narrowed his eyes.

"It has everything to do with you, [Y/N]. Everything we do has something to do with you nowadays."

You winced. How deplorable of him to confront you like this when you were at your lowest. Tired, guilty. Afraid.

They were all staring at you now. Where you typically held your ground, you backed up further and grabbed the handle of the kitchen door. Before shutting yourself in.

It was to no avail, obviously. As you held the door tightly, they teleported behind you. "Get back out, sweets. We need to talk."

"No."

"No?" Romance repeated almost as if he'd never heard anyone say that to them before.

"Talk about what? How I got piss drunk and made a fool of myself?? Yeah, I know." You retorted. It was a miserable cover. The sadness was threatening to drown you. It was a hot day The heat was partially keeping you at bay. If it was raining you'd be tempted to cry with the sky.

"You didn't--"

"I did. I did everything."

Humans were sensitive creatures. Demons even more so. They actually stepped back with the force of that wave of self-loathing that tore from your soul. You couldn't face it; the masses of people dead with you as the motive

You laughed, a dry, desolate sound. "Why won't you just let me die?"

"Because you're our everything now." Romance didn't miss a beat. "Without you, there is no us."

"Shut up!!" Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. If they kept implying this nonsense, you would go insane.

They could feel your frustration. And by god, was it amazing.

Jinu, "You can't keep denying us, darling. There's only so much we can take."

You stood, their general direction. In that critical moment, what did you choose to do?

You gave them the finger.

Now it was the Boys' turn to stand, utterly speechless, as you booked it in the other direction.

Abby Saja sighed long and loud as he watched your small retreating form in the distance. Somewhat mirthful, "How long do we have to keep chasing the little thing for?"

"As long as it takes." Jinu hissed, dissapearing in a swirl of crimson red smoke.

"Shut up Abby, you secretly love the chase," Baby sassed before doing the same. The purple head shrugged, "Don't we all?" And he too dissapeared.

The three others rolled their eyes. But focused in and copied.

Today, you were going to be confronted properly.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

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