rimerym

[rimerym]

I need ya’ll to imagine this with me, so there was a belief that your beauty marks are places where your past lover kisses you the most. Right? So imagine this with the Saja Boys because we all know they don’t really have a lover (unless but let’s imagine they didn’t) so few years later they met you then you shared this facts with them but they told you they didn’t really have that so you kissed them/their bodies telling them your marking them for their next life…..MUWAHAHAAHHA SOMEONE make this and MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!!

[rimerym]

Their warmth . . . ♪

— fluff , found family + gn reader —

; Just as life was getting tough, you could've sworn you saw flicker of light in them. They brought you hope. A hope you could rely on — with them.

a/n: not even thanksgiving but wtv.

You had just met them a few days ago. You didn't expect much from them, thinking they were some typical friend group that can easily fall apart. Except, you were invited to join them in thanksgiving. How could you say no to them? They were kind. To you. To everyone. It was too good to be true — after all, most of the groups you've seen had their downfalls.

"puh—leaasseee, y/n? it would be so much fun with you around!" Aubrey whined, she was the reason you were here in the first place. The rest smiled at Aubrey's plea. Mari let out a warm laugh, agreeing with the girl "We're not forcing you to, we'd like to get to know you better and thanksgiving is best way to do so!" Mari claimed, the others agreeing along with her. You hesitated, opening your mouth to say something like 'I can't' but you closed them before you could even say anything. "I think I could come..." you muttered, smiling at them.

"Ha! Awesome!!" — "Yay! It's gonna be so much fun!!" — "Don't force yourself to join, y/n." — "..." — "Hehe, we'll have so much memories together."

They all voiced one by one, expressing their excitement to you. The smile you gave suddenly grew.

As the hangout went on, you started to realize maybe this group was meant to be. Their shared laughs, their rants — before you could even realize, you were warming up to them.

—♡—

Going out of the house, your legs started walking by their own, heading to the house that they had told you to go to just in case if you would actually come. You couldn't help yourself, their warmth was something you craved for. Hope.

Sunny and Mari's house came to view. Mari ushered the rest in as Sunny peeked out the door, noticing you and nodded in acknowledgement. You could hear Kel and Aubrey's bickering as you came closer. "Y/n!! You're here!" Aubrey noticed, waving at you enthusiastically. "You actually came!" Kel exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "Y/n, hello!" Basil smiled softly. You liked him, he was usually gentle with everyone aside from Mari. You never felt such excitement before. "Mhm! Hi guys!" You returned the smiles coming from them. "Hello, y/n." Hero greeted, nodding at you. "Oh, y/n! Just in time. Come on now everyone!" Mari hummed, ushering everyone in now.

Maybe this was the warmth you've been looking for all along.

a/n: I'm not good at these.. i hope it was good! i made it short bc if i wrote further, i might mischaracterize them :(

[rimerym]

Saja Boys x Reader - After the Show

Let's pretend the Saja Boys were in the human world for at least a few months (as opposed to the two weeks they're active in the film) and managed to snag a partner. And then they had to go home to said partner after getting their asses handed to them by Huntr/x at the Your Idol performance. What could go wrong? :D

Jinu found you slumped at the kitchen table, gripping a mug of tea so hard your knuckles were white. Part of him had been hoping that you had been asleep. That he could sneak into your shared apartment and pretend tonight didn’t happen. That your relationship wouldn’t change. That he hadn’t just tried to destroy the barrier protecting the world—protecting you—from Gwi-Ma and his hordes of demons. But here you were, staring with hollow eyes somewhere far away.

“You’re home late,” you say blankly. There’s no emotion in your voice. It sounds so… empty. You don’t look at him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He was expecting anger. Maybe screaming. He certainly deserved it. He wasn’t expecting this emptiness, the way your eyes looked hollow.

You motion to the chair across the table. He hesitantly sits. You still don’t look at him.

“Your performance was televised,” you explain, then take a long sip of your tea. It was cold now. You had been sitting there, waiting for him, for a while.

A long, suffocating silence passes.

“Was any of it real? Or was all of this,” you wave your hand around, motioning to the apartment. The table where you had shared meals. The couch you had both curled up on and fallen asleep watching movies together. Everything. “Just… a means to an end?”

“...I wanted it to be. Real, I mean,” he follows your gaze around the apartment before looking back at you. You don’t even glance at him. He tries to explain, the words spilling out before he can think better of it. The deal. Gwi-Ma. His mother. His sister. The marks. His half-baked idea to destroy the Honmoon with a demon boy band. Until eventually there’s nothing left to say.

It’s just you and him, sitting at the kitchen table.

When you finally meet his gaze, he can feel something twist in his chest. The bags under your eyes are puffy, like you had been crying, but there were no tears now. Just this detached coldness.

“...I’m glad you’re okay,” you admit hesitantly before taking another sip of your tea. You glance away from him as you say it, like you can’t bear to look at him for too long.

“What?” Jinu’s throat is tight. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m furious, Jinu,” you grip your mug tighter, pushing down the urge to scream. To cry. To throw it at his head and tell him you never wanted to see him again. Jinu wishes you would.

“Then why…” he doesn’t finish the thought. You knew what he was now. The purple patterns wrapping up his arms and around the edges of his face were evidence enough. Worse, you knew that he had been lying to you for months. He grips his hands together, the sharp edges of his claws digging into lilac flesh.

“Because,” you sigh, reaching across the table to put your hand over his, “despite my better judgement, I love you.”

“Still?”

You nod.

Abby opens the door, only to be smacked in the face with something hard. He rubs his forehead, glancing down at what had hit him. When he sees the object, he takes a massive step backwards, across the threshold and into the hallway, hands up as if it was about to bite him.

It was a peach.

He looks up, and finds you crouched on the kitchen counter, a bag of the offending produce tucked under your arm and another peach raised high, ready to chuck at him. You were shaking.

“Babe?” His voice breaks. He wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome, but seeing you look genuinely afraid like this was enough to make tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

You grip the peach in your hand tighter, staring him down with wide, glassy eyes.

He takes a hesitant step forward, giving the peach on the ground a wide berth. It’s almost comical, watching him try to enter the door while also staying at least two feet away from the little fruit.

Every muscle in your body is tense, ready to bolt.

You watch as Abby slowly steps into the room, arms raised and palms facing you like you were holding a loaded gun instead of peaches.

“I, um, wanted to tell you,” he mutters, taking another step into the room. Even though he’s still halfway across the room, you lean away, pressing your back into the wall behind you and holding the peach up like a priest wielding a crucifix.

He stops. He looks at you. He looks at his hands, at the dark purple lines running up his arms.

“I-it’s me, babe,” he stutters as his form shifts. No more claws. No demon marks. His human disguise. The way he was when you first met. When he had approached you, smiling nervously, and asked for a date. When you had shared your first kiss. “Please… don’t look at me like that.”

“You tried to start a demon apocalypse,” you whisper, fruit still raised high in a pathetic attempt at self defense.

“I didn’t want… I thought…” He fumbles with his words, trying desperately to string anything together that could even remotely help in this situation. Eventually, he gives up. “Can I…?”

He steps forward, slowly. Slow enough that you could run away if you wanted.

You don’t.

After what feels like a small eternity, he’s standing in front of you. You let your head fall against his chest, arms falling limply to your sides. The peaches slip out of your grip, rolling across the counter and scattering on the floor.

He pulls you into a tight hug, chin resting on the top of your head. You grip the back of his shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists like you’re afraid he’s going to disappear.

He can feel your whole body shake as you finally let the tears fall, sobbing quietly into his chest. He holds out for a good three seconds before burying his face in your hair and doing the same.

Mystery isn’t sure why he teleports outside of your apartment door. He had just wanted to get away from the fight. Away from the hunters. Away from Gwi-Ma. Perhaps it was his subconscious, taking him somewhere safe. 

He doubts you would let him inside now.

Still, something in him makes him stay. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t reach into his pocket for the key you had given him months ago. Instead, he curls up against the wall next to your door, resting his head against the painted drywall, and waits.

He can hear you moving around in your apartment, slippers shuffling across the floor and glasses clinking together. Strange. You should have been asleep by now.

He’s not sure how long he sits there until you open the door.

“...Hey,” you say, your voice low.

“Hey,” he greets back quietly. He doesn’t look at you, but he can feel your gaze on him. It’s suffocating.

“I saw you guys on TV. That was some performance,” you slide down the door frame, until you’re sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor with the wall between you two. “I’m guessing that wasn’t just special effects.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Didn’t think so,” you sigh, running your hand through your hair. He stays quiet, waiting for you to say something else. You don’t.

Mystery has never been great with words. Especially not in situations like this. He’s half tempted to teleport away, crawl into a gutter somewhere, and never leave. That would be preferable to this mess he’s found himself in.

He tries forcing his sitting posture into something other than the ball of self-loathing he had tucked himself into.

Then he feels your hand on his, and he goes completely still.

You’re saying something. He can tell that much. But his brain won’t let him register any of the words. All he can focus on is the feeling of your hand, resting on his. He can’t see you. You’re still in your apartment. But your arm is sticking out of the open door, across the threshold, and you’re holding his hand. He takes a shaky breath in.

“—and looking back, I totally should have known something was up when you tried to bite that guy for looking at me weird—”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, interrupting whatever you had been saying.

“For trying to bite someone?” You ask. “I actually found it kind of cute.”

“What? No,” he blinks. Why were you calling him cute? You should have been throwing all of his possessions out of your apartment. You should have kicked him out of the building when you found him in the hallway. You should have at least yelled at him. So why weren’t you? Were you waiting for something?

“I meant I’m sorry for… this whole situation,” he motions at himself with his free hand. At the dark, traditional clothes. The purple skin. The claws. Everything. “I-I understand if you don’t want to-”

“Do you want to come in?” Now it’s your turn to interrupt him, lacing your fingers through his as you do so. His eyes go wide as he twists his body around to face you. To make sure you weren’t joking. “I mean, I’m sure we’re going to be talking for a while, and it’s already late…”

“...Yes, please.”

Romance finds you swaddled in three different blankets on the couch, eating an entire tub of ice cream, and watching a random K-Drama way louder than should be necessary. You don’t look at him as he walks into the room, instead opting to shove another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“Darling?” He steps towards you on the couch, and you glare at him. It’s probably not very intimidating, seeing as the only part of your body not wrapped in a blanket is your face. Still, he backs off slightly. Probably because he realized you were eating red bean ice cream, but for a moment you imagine the pure fury radiating from your burritoed self is enough to push him back. Looking him over, you realize he’s already changed into his human disguise. You scoff.

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” you shove another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, and you can see Romance visibly cringe. Good.

“Did you go out and buy that tonight?” He points at the tub.

“Yep. Right after your performance was done airing,” you stab the spoon into your snack as you speak, words dripping with venom. “Figured if I was gonna be demon food I’d at least make you suffer for it. Like those frogs that eat poisonous bugs so birds will leave them alone or something.”

“What? My love, I would never–” He drops to his knees in front of you, reaching forward to brush a hair from your face before thinking better of it. His gaze doesn’t leave your face as tears well in the corner of his eyes. “...you know I would never harm you, don’t you?”

“You tried to feed an entire stadium of people to that fire guy,” you narrow your eyes and point an accusing spoon towards him.

“Well, yes,” he shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting away from yours before facing you again with a nervous smile. “B-but that’s why I had you stay home! You would have been safe, here! We could have–!”

You shut him up by throwing the ice-cream-covered spoon at his face. He scrambles away like it burned him, hastily wiping the half-melted red bean ice cream off the side of his nose.

“Safe? Safe!?” You’re yelling now. The neighbors would probably complain tomorrow. You can’t bring yourself to care. “You were going to kill thousands of people! Did you really think you could just come home like nothing happened after that? Why would you…” your breath hitches, tears threatening to fall. You lean your head down, trying to hide your face from him as you continue “...why would you do this…?”

“...I didn’t think I had a choice,” he admits, nervously spinning one of the rings on his finger.

It’s a long time before either of you speak again.

“Do you have one now? A choice?” you whisper.

“I think so?” he says, one side of his mouth turning upwards in a half-smile. “If I could do it all over again, I’d choose to spend every moment with you. No schemes. No hiding. Just us. That is, if you’d have me…?”

“You’re so cheesy,” you sigh, shifting in your blanket cocoon to make space for Romance on the couch. “Get over here.”

Baby was quiet as he tip-toed into the dark apartment. The plan was simple: Get in. Get his stuff. Get out. You should be asleep by now, so he won’t even need to deal with… that whole mess.

He’s halfway across the living room when you turn on the lamp.

He freezes, then slowly turns to look at you. You’re wrapped in one of his sweaters, sitting on the recliner like a disappointed mother waiting for her teenager to come home. You don’t say anything. You just stare at him.

“...You’re up late,” he finally says.

“Hard to sleep when your boyfriend tries to kill thousands of people at a ‘free concert’,” you frown.

He curses under his breath.

“I’m just here to get my stuff,” he explains, “then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Oh,” you grip the sweater draped over your shoulders, lip trembling as you speak. “I-I guess that makes sense, yeah. Figured it was too good to be true.”

You cross the room slowly, pulling off the sweater as you do so. He can only watch as you hold the mass of fabric out for him to take.

“...Keep it,” he pushes the sweater back into your arms, carefully avoiding your gaze as his fingers brush over yours. “You get cold easily.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, blurring your vision. A sob escapes out of your throat despite your best efforts to remain calm.

“Hey, hey!” He moves without thinking, quickly brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, cupping your face in his hands. “Jeez! I’ll give you a different sweater. Heck, you can keep all of them.”

You press a hand over his, leaning into the touch, trying to memorize the feel of his hand in yours.

“S-sorry,” you sniff, “I know it was all some elaborate demon plot or whatever, but… I really liked you, you know? And even if it was never real–”

“It was real.”

“...What?” you search his gaze, trying to determine if he had really said what you thought he said. A blush slowly creeps up his cheeks as he realizes he had blurted out a truth he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

“I, um, didn’t need a partner for the plan,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “It helped, of course. Pretending to be human and all that. But it wasn’t a requirement.”

“So, what happens now?” you pull his hands away from your face, instead holding them in front of you, studying them. You run your thumb over one of the demon marks on the back of his hand, and he shudders.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, trying and failing to appear unbothered. He’s not sure what the future holds, and that doesn’t sit well for him. “I can’t exactly go back to the demon realm. Gwi-Ma would… not be happy to see me.”

“You could stay here?” you try not to sound too hopeful.

“You’d let me?” He furrows his brows in confusion. “You should not be offering your couch to a demon that, in your own words, just tried to kill thousands of people at a free concert.”

“I wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch,” you smile.

“Oh,” he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

[rimerym]

Hiii! I love your kpdh content so much! Could I request a Baby x reader where he protects you from getting your soul stolen by Gwi-Ma at the Your Idol concert? I don’t know if this is physically possible, but maybe he sees your soul leaving and just like forced it back. He doesn’t really know why he does it, since you were only supposed to be a mission, but he realizes he fell somewhere along the way. But when he sees your life on the line, suddenly he could care less what Gwi-Ma will do to him.

Clementines—

2.4k words; Baby Saja x reader Masterlist | Requests paused!

How can you stand them? Somehow, exposure to you has him realizing he can't live without them.

A/N: Hi anon!! I'm so glad you like my content, that makes me so happy to hear! Okay, I had this idea for a Baby fic? I don't know why but I just like the word 'clementine' so that's why it's part of the theme. Anything's possible with fanfic ☝️ Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were just a part of the plan. A piece of the whole that would make the whole thing run smoother. A makeup artist—their personal one, someone who wouldn’t question the natural cracks in their glamour and would fix it without a thought. 

Baby honestly didn’t pay much attention to you when you were first assigned to them—he didn’t pay much attention to any of the help. In his mind, it was all just formalities—they weren’t real Idols, anyway.

But . . . You were kind. Not in the way the fans were. In fact, you treated them like normal. Not clinical, like clients, but something almost friendly. And still, you kept to yourself. You never forced interaction, though; the others would talk to you (usually), but . . . Baby never did. Even in close proximity as you were applying product to his face, you never bothered to, either.

For Baby, it was refreshing. He didn’t have to pretend to be any sort of way just because he was a public figure; he didn’t feel obligated to do anything but act the way he wanted to. What he wanted to do was not talk, and you were fine with that. You didn’t make it a big deal or make him out to be rude for it.

You had a job to do, and so did he.

That boundary started blurring, though, once the others had adapted to you.

Then it wasn’t so cut and dry. Then you were at their dorms teaching Uno to Abby and Romance and hanging out with Mystery. You got Mystery of all of them to open up? Even Jinu accepted your existence. Baby didn’t stick around you like that.

But he always knew you were around. You were citrusy. Sweet. Like oranges, maybe. It lingered in the places you’d been; the air, the fabric.

Not that he intentionally smelled you, or anything.

It was easy to recognize your presence by your scent, though. In his time being a demon, he’d realized that their senses were sharper, anyway, and the citrus was something only you seemed to hold on to. Something gentle, kind of like the same way you were in the beginning. Still, you never forced your presence, never came to see him.

Eventually, he came to see you. Because there was just something about you, that he couldn’t even get right. And Baby was an easy reader.

Yes, Baby had ignored you at first when you first got acquainted. Now? He wants to see what all the hype was about.

His first moment with you (separate from the closeness of you drawing on his face) happened when he was seeking a snack at 2am. His choice? Something way too spicy to enjoy. And there you were, at the kitchen table in almost darkness, delicately peeling away the rind of a—you guessed it—orange.

Somehow, he had come to the conclusion that he should sit next to you. You were watching something quietly on your phone. There were a few other oranges beside you. You only tilted the device towards him, rewinding so that he could see.

The relative silence was . . . nice. Just sharing your screen.

“. . . Why oranges?” Baby finally asked, not even looking at you. In his opinion, there were much better tastes than the typically sweet fruit. You continued peeling away, not caring about the small dry pieces catching slightly under your thumb nails.

“Clementines.”

“. . . What??”

“They’re clementines,” you corrected quietly, pulling a slice from the circle and popping one into your mouth. Was he supposed to care about the difference?? Was there one??

You were very meticulous about the way you ate your oranges— clementines —Baby noticed. You refused to eat the stringy part, and tried to expose as much of the actual flesh as you could. Seemed like too much work. “They’re so messy.”

So you offered him a clean piece, and he tasted it. Citrusy. A little sour. Sweet. Too sweet for his liking. “Not for me.”

“Is spicy all you eat?”

“It’s the best flavor.”

You didn’t comment any more on the topic, only going back to your slow eating of the orange. The both of you continued watching whatever video was playing on your phone.

Maybe that mostly silent night became a laugh, and a laugh became a habit. He’d taken to you, too. Accepted you as part of their life—wake up, get ready for the day, see you, whether for makeup or not. Still, you were part of the mission, and he wasn’t attached.

Just like the fruit, you had a kick to you, too.

Baby would not be himself if he wasn’t constantly testing limits. And boy was he trying to find yours.

Were you just nice all the time? Softspoken? Never bitter, always sweet? It was kind of annoying. Sometimes, he didn’t know how to handle you. So he messed with you; taking your things, ‘misplacing’ them, teasing you. It was a fun pastime. His go-to pastime. Maybe a favorite. There was something about the way your face melted into a deadpan when he’d backed you into a verbal corner.

All until you’d taught him the best way to cleanly peel an orange—he was too impatient for that.

“They’re shaped like smiles,” you beamed, holding one up to him as if the little piece could be his own grin. He only stared, taking it and turning it upside down. You swatted at him gently.

“How can you stand all this stuff?” Baby complained, cringing as he continued to try and peel an orange. His thumb always pressed too hard, juices dripping from the fruit. “It’s so sticky. Just for it to be sweet.”

“You don’t like sweet? The rinds will suit you,” You offered the outer later, and he only narrowed his eyes at you. “C’mon, try it, people eat orange peels all the time.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“Obviously not. That’s why you’re going to eat it.” It was simply fact to you. Baby was skeptical. “C’mon, clementines are sweet. Just try it.”

Baby tore a piece off, staring at it blankly, before looking at you expectantly. You rolled your eyes, popping another slice into your mouth. He finally decided to bite the bullet and try it as you watched, and you took great satisfaction in the way his face twisted.

“I can’t believe you gaslit me into believing your damn clementines weren’t bitter,” his nose scrunched up, his eye twitching as he reached for a napkin. The longer he tasted it, the worse it was.

“Naive!”

“I am not!”

“That’s why your name’s Baby.”

As he stood up from the chair and you bolted for the exit, he had to admit: you were more lively than he gave you credit for.

So Baby started to get used to you. You had a sense of humor under there, he found. His lack of attention or care for your presence became actively seeking you out when he had the time, much to the other Sajas’ surprise. He’d ask, “where is (Y/N)?” and they couldn’t help but tease, because there was once a time where he didn’t bother to ask at all. Maybe he spent more time with you than the others did, now.

You’d drag him about, anywhere. Show him everywhere, just because it was there to show. Food, or places, or just pretty things. He didn’t know why. You made his world feel bigger, simply because you made him pay attention to little things. Little, stupid things. Little, stupid things that he came to love, simply because you showed them to him.

Still, there was one thing that Baby was grappling with.

You would be at Namsan Tower. You would have your soul taken with the rest of the crowd.

You would die.

Still, you had a job, and so did he.

The thought wouldn’t leave his mind, though. Even as you sat backstage with him, their first concert in twenty minutes, people scrambled about backstage for the makeshift production. With you, it was silent, even with all the shouting and the wait for curtain calls. And you were still peeling one of your damn oranges.

He’s fine with it. He’s fine with it. You’re not that important. Baby has a job to do, it was for his good in the long run.

“. . . If you were a fruit, you’d be a cutie.”

“. . .” God, were you serious? He could only sigh. You laughed at him—somehow, it made him more anxious.

“Good luck on your performance,” you said randomly, doing that painstaking peeling thing you always did. Somehow, you managed to get it just right, too. “I can’t wait to see Your Idol from the crowd!”

“The what?”

“I’m going to be in the crowd,” You grinned, continuing to peel the little fruit as if you didn’t just cause Baby’s world to stop. “I can’t wait to see everything! It’s your first song since you debuted, so . . . I know it’s going to be good.”

Every word seemed to push him further and further from reality. You would see everything. And if you were as close as he thought you’d be to the front . . . you’d be one of the first to go.

He was fine with that.

Right?

“Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re nervous,” you nudged him, and Baby had to play it off with a little smirk, a dumb, weak laugh. Perfect.

“I don’t get nervous,” he huffed.

You only offered him a piece of your orange. And he took it, even if he didn’t much care for the sweetness, simply because you offered. It had become a habit. “Everyone gets nervous.”

Both of your heads raised to where everyone was preparing for the last stint before the show was in motion. He had to go. You didn’t know what that meant for you.

“Okay, parting words. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Knock ‘em dead—” woah, you didn’t know how literal you were being. “Break a leg, Baby!” His heart stuttered a little at the way you said his name.

“Why would I want to do that?!”

Before he knew it, he was on stage. He was singing his part in Your Idol; he could see you. He was fine. His hand could brush yours when he reached down for the crowd—it did, for a moment. Even then, he could pick out that faint citrus scent.

It made him sick.

The fire behind them roared louder. Three girls went against the crowd and stepped onto the stage. You weren’t even hypnotized, you were fully present, fully watching, just frozen in place. The confusion, because what was going on? And Baby couldn’t help but feel like he betrayed you, because he helped put you in this position.

Because maybe, maybe as Gwi-Ma started collecting souls from the crowd, as Huntrix reunited and the flames roared behind him, maybe as he saw the bright colors of your soul fade from your chest and turn into wisps for his king's incineration, he decided that no.

No, Baby was not fine with this.

Because you had your job and he couldn’t do his.

Baby couldn’t let you turn into a husk, a shell like he had become. He didn’t know why, but before he knew it, he was abandoning his fight with Mystery against Zoey to follow the arc your soul had made.

He didn’t know why he did it. It was impulse. Something he didn’t think about until his feet had left the ground. Since when did he care about your fate? Since when would he pull someone from the sky at the cost of a comfortable future?

In that moment, he had to come to terms with three things; one, that life smelled like citrus and he wanted to stay as close to life as possible. Two, somewhere along the way he had taken a fall. A trip so graceful he didn’t even know it was happening in the first place. Three, maybe sweetness wasn’t so bad after all.

There was not much to say in that moment, when Baby snatched the comet trail of your livelihood back into him. 

In that moment, as he cradled the warmth of you to him and stopped the magnetic pull into Gwi-Ma’s flames, nothing else mattered—not Gwi-Ma’s surprise or his rage, not the stares of the other Sajas or the disbelief of Huntrix (Baby Saja? Of all people?). No, he plucked you right out of the sky, because consumed by fire was not where you belonged.

That was too harsh for you. You were all sunshine and life and good times and stupid citrus, and hell was no place for you.

So he snatched your catatonic form past the metal barricade up onto the stage, pushing your soul back into the familiar vessel that contained it. Just with a touch, it’s seeping back into you, and you could think again.

The first thing you see is Baby’s true form. The makeup you didn’t help put on. The magic in his eyes, circling around the rim, the way they were wide as they waited for you to come to. “(Y/N)?”

You blinked. “. . . You know, this wasn’t what I expected Your Idol to turn out like.”

Baby rolled his eyes, tugging you into his chest. “You’re dumb.”

“You just tried to kill me!”

“I didn’t. Besides, I saved you, it canceled out!” you both bickered, as if there wasn’t an active battle going on around you. Romance tapped Baby’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

Somehow, as Baby had learned more and more about you . . .

You’d managed to peel back his own layers, too.

Baby never likes to say he cares. He’s not vulnerable. Like most demons, he’s not soft. He cares for himself. Maybe, there’s a lesson to your damn oranges. Because that’s just his rind, you found. Bitter at first. Somehow, all that peeling practice you did, you found his softness.

Ick.

It was then that Baby came to decide that yes, he’ll fight what he knows to keep you safe. Consequences be damned. Even if it comes at the cost of not putting himself ahead for once. He steadied you, reluctantly turning himself against his tormentor. No longer did he have a job. That was freeing.

Maybe that was just because he knew you were still in his corner, the scent of clementines assuring that you were still around, and if he had any choice in the matter? 

You weren’t going anywhere.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: I really like this one! I hope you didn't mind me adding my clementine idea? Idk I just really enjoyed it. It made it easier to write I guess. I hope you guys liked reading this one, see you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch @queensnowlake-wof

[rimerym]

Everything

Baby Saja x Reader

“In the past hour, I think I've managed to come up with at least fifty entire diss tracks for you.”

“Baby…keep your hand still.”

It was well past your usual bedtime. A couple hours ago, you had asked Baby if you could paint his nails. Had gotten out every bottle of nail paint you owned and everything, but you were met with a harsh no.

To win him over you had challenged Baby to a game of Mario Kart. You told him that if you won, he’d have to let you paint his nails any color you wanted. He had put in his conditions as well, but you didn't listen because you figured they wouldn't be important. You’d obviously win after all, right?

It was a heated race, and by the last round the two of you were tied. But a few well aimed bananas and shells later, Baby was well in the lead. It wasn't your fault, really! You were great at Mario Kart! But as Baby kept poking your side and distracting you through teasing, you felt your morale beginning to worsen. Just as Baby was about to cross the finish line, you made the spontaneous decision to press all your buttons at once. There wasn't any point to trying now that your stupid boyfriend was about to win.

Miraculously, just as you thought you were going to lose, your character somehow glitched to the very end of the track. You and Baby both snapped up, Baby stopping his continuous taunts to suddenly focus. As you started to laugh with a defiant “HA!”Baby began chanting his own “no no no no” at a continuously increasing volume.

Needless to say, you had obviously won. Obviously. Although Baby cried about how you had apparently cheated, you decided to redeem your reward, just as you deserved.

Despite his dramatics, it didn’t take too long for you to drag him onto your couch and gently sit on his lap. And now you were attempting to diligently work a light pink onto his left index finger.

And although this was only the first finger, it seemed like Baby only wanted the opportunity to get you onto his lap, because right before you lowered the brush, he yanked his hand all the way up and out of your reach. You frowned. He was teasing you, again. While you couldn't clearly see his face with your current position sitting forward on his lap, you could still feel his devilish grin and pointed stare drilling holes on the back of your head.

You grumbled to yourself as you reached up, your attempts to grab his palm futile,“You said you’d let me paint your nails!”

He snickered to himself as he watched you, clearly amused, “I said I’d let you, not that I’d make it easy.”

“I can't believe it,” you muttered under your breath, trying to twist around and get a good look at the liar, “You're so mean, I won that game fair and square!”

“Uh-huh,” He said skeptically, his iconic drawl sending shivers up your spine, “Cheating kills relationships, I hope you know that.”

You make a mock exasperated noise, “You're taking that line wayyy out of context, meanie-”

He jabs at your side with his other hand, catching you off guard and making you laugh, “Calling each other names kills relationships, I hope you know-”

“Well,” You state confidently, “Not letting your girlfriend paint your nails kills relationships, I hope you-”

Baby once again jabs at your side, this time lingering and tickling you. You try to squirm away but there's no hope, he's got firmly in his grasp. It's only after you beg for him to stop, albeit in a fit of laughter, that he eases his hold.

As you try to catch your breath, decidedly not trusting this bastard again, he's still smiling at you with that annoyingly sweet look. So you aim for a different tactic, “Have some pity for your poor girlfriend, will you? Just a poor girl tryna’ paint her man’s nails light pink…”

“Oh hell no.”

“But Baby. Your nails are gonna be pretty pink, almost as pretty as you-”

“Cyan hair, a bright pink sweater and baby pink nails? ‘S gonna clash so bad-”

“Soooo pretty-”

He audibly sighed, rolling his eyes and tipping his head back on the couch before dramatically dropping his hand into your lap, “Fine. Whatever it takes to get you to shut up.”

You continued to giggle to yourself throughout the night at how quickly he gave up at your pestering. You carefully applied the pink nail polish on each finger, but sometimes it would spill out onto the sides of his fingernail.

“‘s cold,” he murmured, leaning forward. He placed his head carefully on your shoulder once again as he peeked at your work. His breath was warm and spanned across your neck. You don't think you could ever forget nights like this, a safe space where it's only you, him, a cold night and a warm blanket.

You look up drowsily from your position on his lap, trying to get a glance at his face. You don't think you could ever forget him. His pretty features, distinctive smile, warm embrace. Eyes like stars, guiding you home.

He was home.

“…You're cute.” You murmured in response. You know he hates the cute allegations, the ones that belittle him to the childish persona necessary for him to perform for his band. He told you himself, his insecurity, how tired he was with it all.

In the shield the darkness of the night provides quiet moments where it's just the two of you about to drift into sleep together, he tells you how he feels the need to act tough and distant when he's not performing to fight back against the persona he has unwillingly created for himself. He tells you how being seen as soft, even by you, makes him feel like a weapon losing its edge.

You wished he knew he could be cute, and he could also be yours. You wanted him to know that one label doesn't define who he is, and that one label doesn't diminish his worth. Doesn't diminish what he means to you.

You continued to analyze his pretty face, tipping your head all the way back to get a look at him. You almost wished you didn't, because he had such a stricken expression of longing and warmth, a tear almost escaped your eye.

“You’re everything” he whispered back. Gently, he placed his forehead onto your own, almost as if you were a porcelain angel and he was your sole worshiper.

[rimerym]

im lowkey curious on how kdh characters would play pocky

[rimerym]

RANDOM HEADCANONS ⭑.ᐟ 

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ pairing: rumi x reader, mira x reader, zoey x reader, jinu x reader, abby x reader, romance x reader, mystery x reader, baby x reader

synopsis: random things i believe would be a thing they would do/something that would happen when with them

wc:  1013

content: headcanons, maybe a bit crack

a/n: no one requested this, no one asked, but i did. am i feeling shame? not quite sure but i hope you enjoy the worms in my brain. 🫴

reblogs/comments vv appreciated if you enjoyed! okay buh bye! ⋆ ꩜ ⋆

thinking about rumi letting you braid her hair. especially with how long and egregious her hair is, it’s gonna take a long while (braids are not easy ever, especially with hair that long, like hello???) she doesn’t really let people touch her hair because of all the work and how she needs to look flawless but one mention of it, she is definitely sat down. she sits on the floor between your legs as you sit on the couch with your fingers in her hair (ikkk it’s so soft), humming while you work through it and if you fail miserably or not she just smiles and says, “i don’t think i need a stylist anymore now that you’re here. you’re stuck doing this forever now, right?”

thinking about mira give you lessons about walking in heels. a fashion icon, a diva., she’s everything you’re not (can you wear a sleeping bag at a met gala? no? i didn’t think so. 🫵) she’s teaching you the ropes, because if she manages such a stunt that’s just another achievement under her belt. you start strutting across the room like it’s a real runway, correcting your banana back the moment it crawls back. “back straight. core tight. confidence first, then step. glare at any and all opponents if needed, it’s not optional.” when you start wobbling (i would too, don’t worry) she just smirks as she catches you, “i won’t let you fall. you’re wearing my shoes after all. now again, from the top.” god bless you when you progress to dancing in heels.

thinking about zoey bouncing ideas off of you for lyrics. obviously being known as the lyricist and the reason huntr/x drops absolutely bangers, it’s a lot of pressure but two brains work better than one (even if you do share the same brain cells). she often texts you lyrics, shows you her huge arrangement of notebooks with doodles and notes all about music theory and whatever complicated stuff goes into music, or just straight up stops you in the middle of cereal to let them out in the air and for your needed judgement. “how are we supposed to diss the saja boys with lyrics like these? this won’t do! do you think these lyrics are a bit desperate? i just know you do!” she mutters over breakfast as she flips through the pages of her notebook, and you put out a hand to block any projectiles from heading your way. “well if it’s a takedown—“ “a takedown! you’re a genius!” a genius you are indeed.

thinking about jinu waking you up in the asscrack of dawn to watch the sunset. ripping off the covers with way too much enthusiasm going good morning sunshine! …like it’s 3 in the morning, jinu, i need my beauty sleep. even if you whine, you groan, you threaten violence on his entire heritage, he’s unmoved in resolve. he’s dragging you by the legs, shining his cellphone light in your eyes, yelling in your ears until you get up and can’t go back to sleep. “the world gets so quiet, you can almost hear your heartbeat.” “the one that won’t be beating once i—“ and silence, because damn the sunset is actually beautiful. “told ya.” “shut up, you jungkook lookalike.”

thinking about abby having you tag him at the gym. there is no convincing me that he is a gym bro (probably on that red pill, blue pill, one pill, two pill ideology as well) and totally thinks he’s doing you a favor by hauling you to the nearest gym. he’s always flexing in the mirror and hyping you so much you’re bound to get kicked out but the dude is jacked so he’s the obvious answer for pointers and spotting. don’t compliment his muscles and DO NOT under no circumstances compliment his abs or you’ll be there all day.

thinking about romance doing skincare with you. i mean his hair literally looks like a barbie hairbrush from one of them playsets, but anyways. he’s going above and beyond, lighting candles, pulling out sheet masks, explaining hyaluronic and glycolic acid and with all the promos he gets from every beauty brand imaginable it’s all free stuff! but don’t ever mention only using soap and water to this man, he might actually break out and cry and tell you no wonder you look like that… “excuse me?” “don’t worry, i know all this stuff like it’s homework. after today, it’ll be like you peeled off your skin and applied a brand new one.” “whatever you say buddy.” totally falls asleep while waiting on the mask, don’t tell me otherwise.

thinking about mystery just staring at you. not even looking, just staring. like do you want something? you can’t even see his eyes but you can tell that he’s staring into your soul (which honestly he might actually), looking at you like this: 👁️👄👁️. don’t tell me that’s not even scary, he might jump on you like a rabid animal and you’ll never see the light of day again. “what?”, you say looking at him as you brush your teeth, and he just shrugs, “nothing…just you.” just side eye him and go on with your day. lowkey, you’re his favorite view behind all that hair but don’t tell anybody so shh.

thinking about baby clocking you for no reason. the type to scan you up and down, yes scan, and the most downright diabolical stuff you’ve ever heard in your life. “why are you built like a soggy paper towel?” “your face is built like a question mark.” “you talk like you’re breath got stuck in your throat halfway.” “i’ve never seen someone’s eyelashes so crooked in my life.” like stop man, please! have mercy! my ego can only take so much, what did i even do?! he knows he’s flawless and uses it to his advantage all the time saying something along the lines of “that’s why you can’t pull” shut up with your googoogaga headass. he also gives the meanest side eyes, don’t play with me.

[rimerym]

#⠀YOU⠀X⠀HIM⠀:⠀NOW⠀TRENDING⠀!

IN WHICH you don’t know who started it — but now everyone is convinced you’re dating him. how does he feel about these allegations?⠀(pre–relationship).

~300 words each saja boy, mostly for my own enjoyment, my characterization only :3

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤhe’s absolutely mortified, and there’s almost something pretty about the way he absolutely panics. absolute ‘oh no they found out! wait, there was nothing to find ’ energy. it started with a photo of him leaning toward you — only to whisper, he swears on it. he didn’t mean to stand to close, to have his eyes linger on you for far too long. but he did, and now there’s a hashtag of a mash of your names together, and hundreds (maybe thousands?) of edited photos. he doesn’t even understand how the fans noticed. he surely didn’t.

now it’s all he can think about. the first post he saw, he physically dropped his phone. it hit the ground like a brick, heavy, loud, and disruptive. the others pause. “.. you okay?” abby had asked, eyebrow raised like he’s more curious than concerned. jinu hummed affirmatively bending strangely to pick up the phone with a forced smile on his face and an urgency of someone who was being chased by a serial killer. “fine. totally fine.” he’s the complete opposite of fine.

how is he supposed to face you after seeing all of those tweets? he doesn’t know. but what he does know that his latest search history has been .. weird. weird enough that if anyone opened up his safari they would immediately know what was plaguing his mind.

‘how to delete trending hashtags?’

‘did (name) notice jinu looking at her??’

‘signs that they think about me romantically’

he tries to forget about all the shipping. try to look at you in a platonic light again. but the universe had other plans. he can’t open any of his devices without being bombarded with those posts. an au where you two are exes getting back together, a slideshow of nearly every picture of you two near each other’s proximity. there’s even a whole poll deciding who fell first. and eighty–eight percent of the people who voted went ahead and voted for jinu.

he wants to argue and deny everything, he really does. but then he looks over at your way and, oh, the place where his heart should be flutters in the stupidest way possible. in a way a demon like him probably shouldn’t be able to feel. oh, he thinks. they’re right.

𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘

ㅤㅤㅤㅤhe named the damn ship. as if he wasn’t already the biggest contributer to it — no, he named it too. like it was his own child. instead of something normal like ‘abby(name)’, it’s something way worse. everything abby does near your proximity just makes the ship grow and expand it’s fandom even more.

tugging you away from paparazzi, making you wear his beanie out in public just because it ‘looked better on you’ — and your staff doesn’t help, posting pictures of the two of you behind the scenes (though you’re just talking, you know, like normal friends do). most are blurry, yes, but the fans have eagle vision.

he thinks it’s funny. cute, even. you brought it up once. as a joke — “we’re trending again. gonna feed into it?” he blinks like he’s gaining consciousness for the first time. “should i? no, yeah, we should.” you think he’s just joking. you realize that you’re dead wrong when he brought out his phone and wrapped an arm around your shoulder — suddenly your hashtag blows up because someone decided to actually post the selfie. if he had a pr team, they would hate abby’s guts. or abs.

no, he has no shame. his likes are public (because he isn’t aware you can make it private) and embarrassingly filled with gym content, fan edits of him, and posts about the two of you. if the fanbase didn’t exist — there’s still abby to show love and support to your pairing. it’s gotten to the point that he thinks you’re playing dumb, because everyone and their mothers knew how hard he tries to make you laugh.

because deep inside, he’s glad that everyone agrees that you’re cute together. if anyone’ll have you, it has to be him.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

ㅤㅤㅤㅤof course it’s trending. he made it trend. the moment fans started noticing your interactions, he leaned into it — just slightly. not enough for you to question him, but enough for hardcore fans to notice immediately and go batshit crazy. your manager rubbed her head and mumbled something about ‘pr nightmares’, but does romance care? no, romance only romances.

he times things so perfectly that you have to admit that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in a ‘secret relationship’ too. you’d post a selfie of you wearing red and suddenly he’s posting “red looks good on you ♡” on his twitter. he’s so .. subtle in a not–so–subtle way. when confronted in interviews, he gives vague answers. “they’re very dear to me.” he once said, head leaning on the palm of his head. “like family?”, “like the moon is to the tide.” he’s always been smooth like that.

he knows exactly what he’s doing and lives for the thrill of it. except — well .. sometimes, he forgets it’s supposed to be for show. romance enjoys the attention, the fan’s screams. but most of all, romance loves the way your mouth twitches as you try not to smile at an overly corny pick–up like he used, the way you shove him playfully backstage after another interview.

the fans say you’re a visual match made in heaven. he agrees. not because you’re pretty (you are), or because it benefits his image (he could care less, really) — but because he likes the idea of being paired with you, someone who grounds him.

“you’re not actually into all this shipping stuff, are you?” you scoff, bumping his shoulder with yours. he chuckles. “aren’t you? i already planned out our entire marriage.” the thought of it is .. dangerous. but so is he.

𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

ㅤㅤㅤㅤhe never really acknowledges it. but he’s seen the it. the little fancams slowed to hell and back just to show the two of you making eye contact for a split second. the fans catch everything. it unsettles him how right they might be. mystery never intended to give them material. it’s just the way he looks at you. but he’s confused — not because he doesn’t know where the ship stemmed from, but because they were only noticing his behaviour recently.

you ask him about it one day, phone showcasing a video of you in the center, with him staring (question mark? can’t really see his eyes) in the background. he takes one glance, “pictures.”, he answered with a shrug. he plays dumb really well — too well. you genuinely thought he just didn’t know what shipping is. but he totally does. “you feed the fire.” he tilts his head innocently. “didn’t know there was a fire. a lie. he figured out how incognito mode works just to read fanfics of you two. out of curiosity at first, but then it became a small habit he gained.

but you don’t know any of that, obviously. what you do know is that he stands unusually close to you at events now, and you swear you can feel his hand on the small of your back to guide you whenever you happen to walk in the same direction. he doesn’t exactly bark like they say he does (not in front of you, anyway), but he can and will growl. there’s something animalistic and protective about the way he hovers like second nature — like right beside you is where he’s supposed to be.

mystery stays completely unbothered. if the fans want to talk, let them. if they just so happen to post ship edits of you two with his new favourite love song, that’s fine. great, even. at least the world already knows you’re his.

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

ㅤㅤㅤㅤhe hates it, he needs every video, picture and post deleted and burned to ashes. there could be a video of you handing him a water bottle and there’d be a comment saying that he’s, quote, ‘down bad’. down bad for what? hydration? every time those videos happen to unfortunately come up his for you page he instantly groans like it’s instinctive. baby just doesn’t get it. he looks like he tolerates you at best. that’s if he even looks your way. (that’s what he tells himself.)

he has a private account where he just .. watches. videos he’d see slowly went from mukbangs to that horrid mishmash of your names. he views them. not because he enjoys seeing them .. but for research purposes. he has to know what to avoid, right? “.. you’re not even my type.” he said mid–watch, to no one but himself. why is he talking to himself? fuck. he shuts off his phone and throws it across the bed. it lands on a pillow, still playing that edit of you that got two million likes.

this revelation starts to affect how he talks to you. or, more accurately, how he doesn’t. baby doesn’t talk to you for two days. three. for preventative measures, of course. he doesn’t do ‘crushes’ — it’s some social construct he stopped believing in the moment he became a demon. except he’s dodging you like you’re garlic and he’s a stereotypical vampire. the only thing he can say in your presence is a lame, “your shoelaces are untied.” while you’re wearing something that doesn’t even have them.

you still checked. he’s doomed. and worst of all, it’s public knowledge now. fuck the imaginary shoelaces, it was whatever he had left of his soul that came undone.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ㅤㅤㅤ©ㅤ@ nyxsteaparty .

[rimerym]

Ooh! I just found you on here! And I saw requests are open too, so. I have this little idea, what would happen if the reader performs the Saja's parts in idol? Full on grim reaper outfit, the demon marks, the golden eyes, the dance moves etc.

Would they also be entranced like the crowd in the movie or would it end up just being a cute thing the reader does, that's up to you <3

Have fun with this idea of mine <3

Copycat—

1.2k words; Saja Boys x Reader Masterlist | Requests paused!

Performing the Sajas' parts in Your Idol—they all come to the conclusion that you did it better.

A/N: Welcome to my blog!! I'm so sorry it took so long! Oh my gosh I had so much fun filling out this request and you might be able to tell reading it 😭 I decided to do a mix of both, I hope you enjoy!

Jinu—

Of all things Jinu could have walked in on, seeing you like that was the last thing he expected.

You. Dressed like him. Hat and all. Purple markings crawling up to your face, golden eyes. Even nails that mimicked his claws. And you were dancing the choreography to Your Idol?

“I’m the only one who’ll love your sins,” you sang, and he blinked as you met his eyes through the cracks in his fingers. Is this how he looked on stage? The fangs, the way your eyes narrowed as you sang??

Jinu had to be honest—you were good. You even got his costume down to a T.

But when you hit his high note at the end?

YES, apparently you can get the mic a little higher?! And your voice, too!

Jinu closed his mouth (it had dropped a little when you pulled off the ending) and cleared his throat, offering a little clap. As if he wasn’t a little flustered. “You’re cosplaying me? I’m flattered.”

“Is that all I get?!” Your eyes shot open, actually a bit offended. “That was a soul-stealing, Grammy-winning, Idol-Award snatching solo rendition of Your Idol, thank you very much!”

Jinu grinned, his eyes shooting away from your outfit. “Eh. Your skin’s not purple enough.”

“Jinu!”

Abby—

Abby can feel when people dance in his bones. And ears, to be honest—you weren’t being very discreet. Anyways, he had to join. Especially since he heard the sinister intro to Your Idol. He pulled open the door you were behind, only to be met with you.

Mesh top, shiny, skin-tight pants, those high platform boots?? And you did your makeup inspired by his demon markings? Hello?? Abby’s face flushed because woah. That’s all he could describe it as.

You froze for a second as you made eye contact, but you shot up just in time to do Abby’s part. His verse. Are you trying to kill him?

It’s the way you clocked his stunned state, because that smirk you gave when you leaned back and tugged at the beads of your hat? “Any time it hurts, play another verse; I can be your sanctuary.”

WOAH.

Is this what it felt like to be a fan? No wonder people fainted during their performances. Your Idol really was hypnotizing—or maybe it was just you.

What else was there to do but join you?

Without another moment, Abby’s veneer had disappeared with a poof and he was beside you as your backup. You cheered when he started singing Mystery’s part for you, continuing the song.

“Your moves are actually so smooth!” Abby beamed, absolutely starstruck at the opportunity. As if he wasn’t the idol. “Do you know any more of our songs?? We should do more!!”

For the rest of the afternoon, Abby was ensuring you knew all of Soda Pop.

Mystery—

You didn’t even know he was watching. Mystery is mostly just amused.

His eyes stay locked on your form as you run through Your Idol like it was your show, and he had to give it to you, if he hadn’t helped make it, he’d have thought it was. It didn’t completely captivate him, but . . .

You did get him when you sang his part in the beginning. You do the ragdoll-y motions so well—the honest skill in your singing and dancing made his heart stutter a little.

He’s out of sight as you keep going, more and more impressed at your inability to sing. When were you going to say something?? He knew you had a good voice, but . . . you could honestly do something with it if you wanted. And your ability to mimic his costume was impressive.

Mystery only made himself known to throw up a ten out of ten sign from nowhere, emerging from whatever shadowy corner he’d been watching from. You could only laugh.

“So was I supposed to find out you’re an excellent performer by walking in on you?”

You shrugged. “I’m not the professional here.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Romance—

Never, not once in his immortal LIFE had Romance been more enamoured. You’re singing his parts, dressed like him, with glittery golden eye contacts to match? Oh, he was eating it up.

“Oh . . . my god,” he gasped, his eyes literally widening. You laughed, continuing to sing his part.

What were his demon powers for if he couldn’t use them for special effects??

Wolf-whistles, glitter, smoke, Romance was doing it all. Even the fake fire. Because your presence demanded a stage, and he would give it to you.

The way you imitated his hat rim movement?? Since when could you dance? He knew you could sing, he’d seen it just for fun before, but like this? He almost dropped to his knees.

But when he levitated you for that high note bit?

Maybe he was doing too much, but the way the lighting dimmed to focus on you, your form, the other effects . . . you looked ethereal.

He swore that, maybe for just a moment, he was truly captivated by you. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Romance summoned a bundle of roses for you at the end, shaking his head as he handed them to you, clapping. “You look fabulous as me. Is this your audition to fill the sixth slot?”

“Literally,” you grinned, dramatically bowing. “And maybe. Thanks for the production, Romance.”

“What can I say? You had to finish looking the part.”

Baby—

Some kind of switch had to flip in Baby when he walked into you.

Literally, his entire world stopped. Tunnel vision. There was no other way to describe it. Because he had entered at JUST the right time, for his rap to begin.

You’re dressed like him. Since when could you rap?

FORGET THAT, “Thank you for the pain, ‘cause it got me goin’ viral.”

HELLO? His heart dropped back onto Gwi-Ma’s steps. If he had a soul still, it would have left him.

The smirk? The-the body rub thing?? He could feel your eyes on him through your lashes and it felt like you were staring straight through him. The fingers, the makeup, the everything.

Baby could feel just how shaky his exhale was. He’s internally panicking—you’ve managed to take his cool away from him. That’s not possible? Since when could you act as unhinged and chaotic as him?? Who are you?!

Back to the rapping—he had to force his thoughts back to the rapping. But it was already practically over before he had been able to register what was happening. In a trance.

Did . . . did you actually manage to brainwash him?

“Since when could you rap??” He demanded, snapping out of his daze. He approached you with his arms crossed, and Baby had to pretend like his knees weren't weak for a second.

“Who knows, maybe you’ve rubbed off on me,” you snickered, dusting your shoulders off playfully. Baby swallowed, looking away and sighing. To hide a blush, but he’d take that to his grave. Thank god for glamour.

“I might have to test you. Can’t have you thinking you’re competition.”

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: That was actually so much fun! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @abby-himbo-truther @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch @queensnowlake-wof @theshadowsden

[rimerym]

Saja Baby Art

[rimerym]

what if we were a demon boy band and we all ran like goofy guys? haha jk...unless? 🤔

[rimerym]

Artist : https://x.com/cy__o_o on twitter

[rimerym]

this is so cute 🙀

Drew these two, Abby is up next 🙂‍↕️

If used please credit me🙏

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this so vil

Ok, I lied. I'm hopeless.

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Slow music, soft rain

Pairing : Kyrell + Rim , my ocs.

? ; In a storm, there's always something you could call comfort. For them, it's each other, which they found home and hope in.

TW: fluff, dancing while it's raining, grammar issues maybe, kinda proofread, this is short.

::: It's my first post! I hope it's good :D

A gentle rain washed the window, the sound signaling its upcoming storm. The couple warmed up, sighing. The whole week has been torture with all the storms. The two didn't care about it though. As long as they had each other. Moments like this were loved. Just comfortable silence, turning on the radio.

Moments later, the hum of their favorite music featured in the radio was heard. Kyrell glanced at Rim in a way only a lover could. He extended his hand, a silent invitation to dance with him. “Shall we dance, my love?” He murmured softly. Rim, showing a look of hesitance. She wasn't a dancer herself.

Kyrell, seeing her hesitance, he added softly, “I'll guide you. I promise.” His words were a promise, a tone of assurance. With a slow nod, Rim cracked up a smile, placing her hand in his, trusting him.

The rain continued and so did the two, dancing away in their own little world. Maybe a few giggles here and there.

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OH MY GOSH???

I exorcized these damn pics so NOW I can go back to my fucking schedule djfjrjfvj

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no way savanatrix 😛😛

this blog was meant to be focus on my yumeship but i'm ADHD anyway soooo have anyone done this yet?