#...and Rewind because suddenly started thinking about him...

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to their idol crush biasing them on a livestream

Request: first of all, love your work. second of all, could i request how svt feel/their reaction to their idol crush biasing them? maybe her group is doing a livestream and they get asked about celebrity crushes/which groups they stan and their bias

Idk how to categorize them 😭😭 — Joshua, Wonwoo, Minghao, Vernon

Doesn’t freak out outwardly, but you can tell something just happened by the way he goes completely still with the cutest stunned smile on his face. He replays the clip a few times because he can’t quite believe it. Immediately gets lost in his head. She said his name so easily like it wasn’t going to ruin him emotionally for the week. He won’t mention it to the other members unless they bring it up first… But the clip is saved/ favorited if that's what the app offers. Probably replayed at 2am while staring at the ceiling and questioning everything. This is now his new personality. Idc

SCREAMS and hits the floor — Hoshi, Dokyeom, Dino

I mean... did you see them with their idols? Especially Hoshi and Dokyeom? 😭😭😭 He literally falls out of his chair and flails and runs into another room. Rewinds the clip literally 600 times and makes everyone around him watch it too. Goes, “SHE SAID ME! DID YOU HEAR THAT???” while pointing at the screen because it’s an evidence in court. Can’t stop talking about it for the rest of the week. Absolutely convinced this is fate. He's actually imagining how he’d react if she met and brought it up casually.

Acts like it’s nothing but literally blushing — Jeonghan, Jun, Seungkwan

Does the whole “oh really? that’s cute” routine with a smug little grin… But also turns away so no one can see his ears turning red. Might make a few jokes about it like, “ah, I guess my charms are hard to resist,” He’s actually dying so don't let his confidence fool you LMFAOOOO. 100% replays it in bed later while kicking his feet under the blanket. Suddenly hyper-aware of her group. Starts watching her lives a little more. Mentions her name more often than before. He doesn’t want to seem affected, but it’s all over his face.

Looks absolutely stunned and doesn’t recover for hours — Seungcheol, Woozi, Mingyu

You’d think someone physically knocked the air out of him. He basically just stares with his mouth slightly open. Can’t focus on anything afterward. Very self-conscious about everything like his hair, his outfit, his entire existence now that he knows she bias him

[random-cockroach]

💛🧡

[iamactuallysocute]

I absolutely LOVED your Saja boys x assistant for your writing is honestly amazing 🙏

Sooo I wanted to know if I can ask for another one 🙏

If you don't mind can you do a scenario or story (not actually sure what it's called) for kpop demon hunters, the Saja boys when your secretly dating one of their members like Abby or Romance or baby (you can pick, or do 2 or both of them) and your apart of Huntrix and they find out and their reaction isn't good.

THANK YOU 🤍💜

HUNTR/X FINDING OUT YOU’RE DATING A SAJA BOY

cw: mentions of sex and rewinds of sex so we can technically say nsfw, secret relationships, arguments, cursing—and tell me if I missed something

PLOT: Three hunters? History says four! At least in this universe it sure does, because you’re a member of HUNTR/X, a beautiful sweetheart, the dream girl actually. That’s the exact reason a Saja Boy had interest in you. And that Saja Boy is…

JINU

It started like a joke. Like the dumb kind of thing you whisper to yourself when you’re three drinks deep after a long night of demon slaying, bruised, blood-splattered, and sore in all the wrong places, “Wouldn’t it be so stupid if I let that cocky little shit Jinu kiss me?”

Except you did. And you let him do a lot more than that.

You know damn well this is wrong.

You’re supposed to hate the Saja Boys.

But then there’s Jinu.

Oh, Jinu.

You know better. You do. But you also know how he kissed you the first time, like he was starving for it, like he’d been thinking about it for weeks, that you’ve been driving him crazy.

Every time you sneak off, telling Mira you’ve got to “clear your head”, lying to Zoey about meeting friends, making up some bullshit mission Rumi would definitely sniff out if she wasn’t so busy being ten times the badass you pretend to be, you end up in Jinu’s room. Usually on his lap. Sometimes against a wall. Once in the backseat of a staff car, which, honestly, was way too cramped for the kind of shit he wanted to try. (But did you complain? No. You just bit his shoulder to muffle the sounds.)

You keep saying it’ll be the last time. Every single time, you tell yourself:

This is it. I’m cutting it off. I shouldn’t be doing this. He’s a demon. I’ll kill him when we’re done.

And every single time, you end up under him again, hips rolling, nails dragging down his back while he whispers filth.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Every second with him is a risk. If Zoey finds out? She’ll be furious. If Rumi finds out? You’re dead. If Mira finds out? You might wish you were.

But fuck… it feels good to be wanted like that.

So no. You’re not telling the girls. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Because that boy is a demon, still.

You can see it in the yellow flickers in his eyes when too much happens to his body. The way his voice changes when he’s angry, the shadow under his skin when his temper spikes, like there’s something inside him, snarling.

Because there is. Gwi-Ma.

You hate that freak. You really, truly do.

He’s not always loud, but when he is, you feel so bad for Jinu.

Sometimes, you’ll catch Jinu zoning out—just for a second—and when he blinks back into himself, there’s this… weight. A bitter taste in the air. You know it’s Gwi-Ma.

You’ll be tangled in Jinu’s sheets, your mouth on his throat, your nails digging into his ribs while he gasps, and then suddenly he’ll choke out a laugh. You’ll ask, “What?” thinking you did something good, and he’ll groan, cover his face and mutter, “Ignore him.”

Like??? Fuck off, Gwi-Ma. (He also once called you “delicious,” which Jinu immediately apologized for by dropping to his knees and staying there for a long time. It helped.)

There was also that one time you were straddling Jinu on the couch in his dressing room, and he went real still, eyes distant, and then just groaned, “Shut the fuck up.” into your neck.

But here’s the thing. Gwi-Ma’s always there—always. Jinu can’t shake him, can’t silence him, not completely. And yet… you don’t feel the urge to pull a blade on him. Not like you would with anything else that dark and dangerous.

You should. You know that. Every instinct in your hunter-trained, scar-hardened body should scream put it down before it turns on you.

But you don’t.

Because the truth is? The demon’s a parasite. But Jinu? Jinu’s not the demon. He’s the boy fighting it. Every single day. You see it when his eyes flash for just a second and he has to swallow it down. You see it in the way he looks at you, like he’s scared you’ll see it, too. The rot inside. The crack in the mirror.

But you already do.

And you love him anyway.

No, wait, you didn’t mean to say that. Not even in your own head. But it’s out here now.

You love him.

He hasn’t said it. Not out loud. But you know. You know by the way he touches you when he thinks you’re asleep. Soft fingertips, trailing your spine, memorizing the shape of you. You know by how he always lets you go first when you argue, even if he hates it. By the way he flinches when you joke about your death like it’s just another occupational hazard.

And sometimes? When you least expect it, he says shit that almost counts.

Like, “I’d burn the world down if anything happened to you.”

Or, “I like who I am when I’m around you. I don’t hear him as much when you’re close.”

And maybe that’s what really fucks you up.

You thought you were just in it for the heat. For the adrenaline. For the sex and the secrecy and the thrill of knowing you were doing something very bad with someone very pretty.

But now? You’re in deeper.

Worse, so is he.

You’re full on dating. Dating dating.

You should be enemies.

Instead, you’re in his bed.

Heart beating fast.

Shirt already half-off.

And he’s looking at you like you’re the last light he can still see in the dark.

You don’t trust this.

You don’t trust yourself.

But when he kisses you, slow and scared and wanting, the demon in him quiet for just a second?

You let him have you.

Again.

And again.

And again.

You also like the tiger. Or cat. Or tiger-cat. Whatever. You still don’t even know what to call it.

You remember the first time you saw it, you thought it was some kind of hellbeast and went for your blade, and Jinu was like, “Waitwaitwait, he’s chill.”

And now? You’ll be at Jinu’s place, half-naked, trying to sneak in a post-mission quickie, and suddenly there’s a 600-pound animal flopping on your legs like it’s a house cat.

Like, sir. Please.

Your vibe is adorable but your mass is inconvenient.

It loves to curl around the both of you like some kind of living, purring barrier. It’d be cozy if it didn’t also come with the crushing weight of “You move, you die.”

And then there’s the bird that hates everyone. Except Jinu. And sometimes, very begrudgingly, you. But only if you bring food. Or if you’re crying, which you hate that he knows. The bird is weirdly intelligent like that.

Sometimes he lands on your shoulder and just sits there while you and Jinu are talking. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t squawk. Just watches. It’s unsettling, but Jinu swears it’s a sign of affection. (You’re not totally convinced it’s not reconnaissance.)

Then, you got caught, babe.

Now, you’re wearing a little shirt that barely reaches your navel and a little black thong. You’re barefoot on your balcony, one hand resting on the railing, the other clutching a soda you don’t even really want. Your legs are sore, your back hurts, your lip’s still split from earlier, and the last thing you need is—

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You jolt. Turn.

“What the fuck, Jinu?” you hiss, slamming your soda down and rushing to him. “What are you—how did you even get up here?!”

He’s grinning. Soft, smug, absolutely useless in his very kissable way.

“Teleported.” he says. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

“Jinu. They’re home.”

“And?”

He says it so easy. So breezy. Like your heart isn’t trying to hammer through your ribs. You grab him by the arm and drag him fully onto the balcony, pressing him into the wall so he’s out of sight from the windows. Your face is close to his now, too close.

His eyes flick down your body, lazy but appreciative. “You’re not exactly dressed for company.”

You slap his chest. “Don’t make me push you off this building.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst way to die.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. Your hand’s still on his chest, and he’s warm under your palm. Steady. Calm. Like nothing can touch him, not even the hurricane that’s about to slam into your life when this secret finally gets out.

“You’re insane for coming here.” you murmur, quieter now. “What if they see you?”

“I missed you.”

That’s it. No drama. No poetic nonsense. Just those three words, spoken so plainly you feel the ground shift under you.

You swallow. Your throat’s dry. Your hand drifts up, fingers brushing the curve of his jaw. “You couldn’t just text? Send a letter with your cat?”

“I needed to see you.”

He leans in, just a little, and you follow because of course you do. His lips brush yours once, just a ghost of a kiss, and it’s enough to turn your knees to—

Gasp.

You freeze.

The sound comes from inside the room.

Both of you turn your heads just in time to see the door swing open, Zoey standing there, eyes wide, mouth fully agape.

“…oh my god.” she breathes.

Then the door slams shut again.

“Oh my god.” you echo, gripping the balcony railing like it’s going to save your soul. “Oh my god. Jinu. She saw you. She saw us.”

“She didn’t knock.” Jinu says, baffled.

“WHY WOULD SHE KNOCK? IT’S MY ROOM.”

You whirl on him, panic spiking like adrenaline in your veins. Your whole face is on fire. Your body’s moving already, ushering him toward the edge of the balcony, trying to think, to fix, to stop the bleeding of this moment from leaking into the rest of your life.

“She’s going to tell Rumi. Mira. Bobby. She’s going to tell everyone. Oh my god.”

“Okay.” Jinu says, still infuriatingly relaxed. “And?”

“And?!”

He’s smiling again, like this is funny, like you’re just being dramatic. He has no idea how bad this is. You shove him toward the railing with a hand to the back of his head, not hard, just enough to make him stumble.

“Go.” you hiss. “Go, now. I’ll fix it.”

“You’re gonna ‘fix’ getting caught half naked with me on your balcony?” he laughs, holding the ledge like he’s deciding whether to leap or wait for you to calm down.

You swat the back of his head again.

He laughs harder.

And somehow… somehow, that helps.

Because he’s not scared. He’s not shaking like you are, imagining Rumi’s furious stare or Mira’s disappointment or Zoey’s lethal level gossip abilities. He’s just… there. Present. Unbothered.

You exhale hard. Press your forehead to his chest for just a second. He lets you. His hands come up, hold your waist gently, swaying with you.

“Go.” you whisper again. “Please.”

He nods. Serious now. The playfulness fades, just a little. He cups your cheek, presses one last kiss to your lips, then steps back over the balcony’s edge.

And disappears.

You’re left standing there. Heart racing. Lips tingling. Whole body humming like you’ve been plugged into an outlet.

Inside, you hear footsteps.

Voices.

Loud ones.

Zoey’s already telling them.

“Shit.” you breathe, dragging a hand through your hair. “Shit shit shit.”

But even with the panic creeping up again, you can’t stop the small, ridiculous smile that curls onto your face.

Because that dumb, beautiful demon boy came here just to see you.

You don’t even bother throwing on shorts. Just storm out of your room in the tiny shirt and thong you were already wearing, not because you’re trying to prove a point, but because fuck it, the point already proved itself.

You race down the hallway, barefoot, still breathless from the sheer velocity of your panic. The walls feel like they’re closing in with every step. And as you reach the living room, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Zoey’s perched on the arm of the couch. Her popcorn is real. You knew she’d have popcorn.

Mira’s sitting, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed. Her expression isn’t angry. Not yet. Worse, it’s disappointed.

Rumi’s standing. Her arms are crossed too, and her face is blank in that terrifying way that says: I haven’t decided whether to scream or murder someone.

You stop cold in the doorway.

“…hi.”

No one answers.

You laugh. Short. Nervous. “Okay. So. Surprise?”

Zoey makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a cackle. “Surprise? GIRL.”

Rumi’s voice cuts through, quiet and sharp. “Sit down.”

You glance around. “I’m, uh, I’m not really dressed for a—”

“SIT.”

You sit.

“Zoey saw Jinu.” Mira says, voice like ice water down your back. “On your balcony. With you. And not in a friendly way.”

“Wasn’t a kiss on the cheek, hun.” Zoey adds, tossing popcorn in her mouth.

“Zoey.” Rumi scolds gently.

Zoey zips it. Barely. She’s vibrating with drama high. Her foot’s tapping. She’s dying to see how this plays out.

Mira leans forward. “How long.”

You blink. “What?”

Mira’s eyes are lasers. “How. Long. Has this been going on.”

You swallow. “…A while.”

“A while?” Rumi explodes, stepping forward. “Define ‘a while,’ because ‘a while’ sounds like weeks, and if this has been going on while we were out risking our asses, while we were fighting off demons and you were texting your little boyfriend under the table, I need to know that before I go to prison for launching a sword through the next Saja concert.”

You flinch. “Okay, whoa, let’s not—”

“WAS HE AT THE CEMETERY FIGHT?” Zoey blurts, her eyes wide. “Because you said you were on break that day and he was also conveniently there! Oh my god—were you hooking up behind the mausoleum while I was getting bit by that demon?”

“That was one time.” you snap.

“You just admitted it!” Zoey screams, victorious.

“Okay, enough.” Rumi says, holding up a hand. She turns back to you. “Is it serious?”

And you freeze.

Because there’s the real question.

They’re not just mad about the secret. They’re mad because they know what this means. You don’t sneak around for fun. You lie to protect. So if you were protecting him…

Then you weren’t protecting them.

“I care about him.” you say softly. “It wasn’t just sex. It isn’t. He’s not—”

“He’s a demon.” Mira says, flat. Cold. “End of sentence.”

“He’s not—” you start, then stop. Because okay. Yes. He is. But not the way they mean. “There’s something inside him, yes. Gwi-Ma. But Jinu’s fighting it. Every day. He’s—he’s not evil. He’s not one of the monsters we hunt.”

“And what if he loses that fight?” Rumi asks, quiet again. “What if the thing inside him gets stronger? What if you become the liability?”

Your throat closes. Because that’s the worst part, you’ve already thought about all of that. And it still wasn’t enough to stop you.

“I know what I’m doing.” you whisper. “I know.”

“Do you?” Rumi growls. “Because it looks like you’re playing house with a demon.”

“Rumi, stop—”

“No. You lied to us.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You chose him.”

Yeah. You did. Over and over again. Every night you crept out, every time you let him touch you, every second you looked at his face and thought, maybe this could last, you were choosing him.

Even if it meant eventually losing them.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” you say, finally.

“Too late.” Mira mutters.

“Wait.” Zoey says. “Did you say Gwi-Ma? Like the actual Gwi-Ma?”

“Yeah.” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “Lives in his head. Won’t shut up. Kind of an asshole.”

Everyone’s silent again.

And then, Zoey: “…Does he also do the tongue thing when he kisses you? Like he looks like he does the tongue thing.”

You close your eyes. “Zoey.”

Rumi sighs. Mira pinches the bridge of her nose. And slowly, slowly, the tension in the room starts to loosen. Not dissolve. Not disappear. But… loosen. There’s still tension in the air. Still betrayal.

“You know we’re supposed to kill them. Right?” Rumi says, loud and clear so you hear it.

You have heard it. You’ve heard it a hundred times. In debriefs, in Zoey’s snide jokes, in the way Mira files her knives after watching Saja Boys interviews with a dead stare. You’ve said it yourself. Weeks ago.

You knew what they were. You knew they weren’t human. And your girls have been tracking, prepping, moving toward this for weeks.

And meanwhile?

You’ve been sleeping with the mark.

“I know.” you say, barely above a whisper.

“You knew.” Mira corrects, her voice a blade.

“I know.” you repeat, louder now. “And I didn’t—I didn’t plan for this. It wasn’t some operation gone rogue. It wasn’t a trick. It just—”

“You tripped and fell onto his dick, huh?” Zoey says, sharp and bitter.

You shut your eyes. “Zoey, not now.”

“No, I really wanna know.” she goes on. “Did you just accidentally fall in love with a guy who’s literally got a demon whispering murder in his ear while we’ve been training to put his head on a spike? Because that’s wild.”

“What was your plan?” Rumi asks, not looking at you. “What was the endgame here? That we’d kill his bandmates but leave him alone because you like his face?”

“No.” you snap, the sharpness surprising even you. “God, no. You think I don’t know how this looks? You think I haven’t been ripping myself apart every night over this? I know what we’re doing. I know what he is. But you don’t know him. Not like I do.”

“Enlighten us.” Mira says, icily. “Please.”

You blink fast, trying to push the burn out of your eyes. You weren’t gonna cry, you swore you wouldn’t, but the pressure’s building.

Silence.

Rumi closes her eyes like she’s trying not to hit something. Mira sits back. Her face has gone to that scary-silent-assassin look that means her brain is moving three steps ahead of everyone else. Finally, she says: “So when it’s time to take them out… what happens then?”

You stare at her. You hate how cold she sounds. You hate how reasonable it is.

Because that is the question, isn’t it?

What do you do when it’s your sword, and his neck, and no one else to make the call but you?

“I don’t know.” you admit, soft. “I don’t know yet.”

“That’s not good enough.” Rumi says, voice rising. “You’re not just putting yourself at risk. You’re putting us at risk. What if he turns on us mid-mission? What if he uses you to get ahead of us? What if this whole time—”

“He wouldn’t.” you say quickly. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt any of you.”

“You can’t know that.” Mira says.

“I do.”

And you do. Deep down. Where all the fear and doubt and guilt live, even under all of that, you know.

He wouldn’t let them touch you.

And he wouldn’t touch them.

Not unless they tried to kill him.

Which they… will.

Soon.

Zoey stands again and walks across the room, pacing now. “So what, we’re just supposed to ignore this? Let you keep cuddling up with your demon boyfriend while we finish the job?”

“No.” you say. “I get it. I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m not even asking you to like me right now. I just… I just need you to understand. I’m not choosing sides. I’m choosing truth. Jinu’s not a monster. Not yet. And I don’t think he ever will be.”

There’s a pause. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

Then, softly, Mira asks: “But what if you’re wrong?”

You look at her. Look at all of them.

And you don’t have an answer.

ABBY

Look. You’re supposed to kill him. Let’s be very clear about that. The Saja Boys are your target. You’ve watched them on stage, off-stage.

The first time you saw him, shirtless and grinning, was some training clip Rumi pulled up on the mission table, purely for recon (allegedly), and even then, you felt your spine short-circuit.

He looked like a human weapon.

Except he wasn’t human.

And you weren’t supposed to want the weapon.

But, you know. Whoops.

He’s huge (like, throw-you-around-the-room, bench-press-you-during-foreplay huge). Arms like steel, voice like “what’s up, babe?” and a smile so cocky it should be registered as an actual threat.

You hated him at first.

You hated him… until you didn’t.

Until one night after a bad mission, your ribs aching, pride worse, your blood still up and nothing in the world feeling good. And then you saw him. Leaning against a wall, flexing like he didn’t know he was doing it and voice dropping into that stupid low register like, “Hey. You okay?”

Game over.

Brain fried.

Panties? Gone.

And then, somehow, you were... kissing. In a stairwell. Covered in blood. Your blood. His blood. Something's blood. Messy. Wrong. And absolutely addictive.

Now it’s… a thing. A secret thing.

Because Abby? He makes you laugh, first of all. He says dumb shit in bed. He says dumb shit all the time. And he’s so proud of it.

And yeah. He’s a demon. You see it. He doesn’t even hide it.

There’s something in him that pulses dark. Wild. Primal. The heat in his body burns wrong sometimes. The shadows cling to him longer than they should. And there are moments, fleeting but undeniable, where he looks at you like he wants to eat you.

Not in the fun way. (Though, to be clear, he definitely wants that too.)

But in the demonic, soul-thirsty kind of way.

And yet. Somehow. You’re not afraid of it. You should be. You’re trained to be. You’ve put down lesser demons without blinking. You know what he is. But something in you doesn’t flinch.

Because under all of that darkness… you know he likes you.

He really, actually likes you. In his dumbass, show-off way.

The first time he said it, he was inside you—of course he was—panting, all flushed and cocky, and he muttered, “shit, I like you too much.” Then he tried to play it off with a kiss to your neck, followed by something heinous you don’t even remember, too busy feeling all of him.

You laughed. And then whispered, “me too.”

He knows you’re a hunter. He knows who you are, what you do. But he keeps showing up anyway. Still winks. Still pulls you into dark corners and picks you up like you weigh nothing. Still teases you like none of this is real.

He trusts you. And that terrifies you more than anything.

Because when the time comes…

When the blades are drawn…

He’s not going to fight you.

And you don’t know what you’re going to do when that moment comes.

But for now? You let him pin you to the wall and mutter, “what, you gonna slay me, hunter?” against your jaw.

Because the worst part isn’t that you’re supposed to kill him.

It’s that a small, aching part of you knows you won’t.

He does shit like carrying your bag when it’s heavy, but doesn’t make it weird. He just grabs it and then slings it over those stupid big shoulders like it weighs nothing. Flexes a little, maybe, but you let him. You even look on purpose. He likes it.

He memorizes what you order from that little noodle shop you go to after late-night sweeps. The first time he brought it to you unasked, still hot, you didn’t even know what to say. He just handed it over with a lopsided grin and went, “See? I got a brain in here.” and then tapped his temple with the chopsticks he’d stolen from the shop.

He warms his hands before touching your face. Doesn’t even think about it. Just always runs them over his neck or into his sleeves first, and then cups your cheeks.

And then there's how he watches you. Not like prey. Not like the demon in him is looking for an opening. But like... you're the funniest, hottest, most precious thing in his world and he can't believe you're even talking to him, let alone letting him see you naked on the regular.

And oh my god, he tied your shoe once. One time. You’re mid-arguing, mid-huffing about something completely irrelevant, and this man bends down, wraps those huge hands around your ankle, ties your shoe with all the careful attention of someone untangling a bomb, then slaps your thigh and stands up.

You were silent for, like, ten minutes.

You hate how much you like it. Hate it. Hate it.

But not enough to stop.

Not when he’s currently got you pressed up against cold tile, his breath warm against your throat, your thigh hiked high around his hip in the almost empty bathhouse the three of you ducked into after a hunt.

You don’t even know how it happened.

One minute, you were soaking in the women’s bathhouse while Mira and Zoey argued over whose blade got the final hit, and the next, you were in the showers and Abby was there. Shirtless. He must’ve snuck in through the back.

You didn’t even try to stop him. You should’ve.

But he’d walked up to you, dripping from a quick rinse-off, and grinned. “Damn. You clean up nice.”

And that was it. That was the moment your common sense packed her bags and left.

Now? Now you’re sandwiched between Abby and the cold wall of the bathhouse’s back corridor. Your towel’s half off, your thigh’s fully up, and Abby’s mouthing your neck like this isn’t a public facility.

“Abby.” you whisper, half-laughing, half-moaning, trying to push him back even though you’re very much not trying that hard. “They’re still here. They could come back any second.”

He just kisses lower. “Then we better make it fast, huh?”

“You’re the one taking your damn time.” you snap, trying not to laugh, and he grins against your skin.

“What can I say?” he murmurs. “My girl’s distracting.”

You shove his chest. It’s like trying to move a wall of warm concrete. “I swear, if they catch us—”

Footsteps.

Voices.

You both freeze.

You don’t see them at first. But you hear them. Zoey’s laughing about something and Mira’s voice is lower, casual, annoyed maybe, like she’s mid-eye roll. They’re just coming back from the sauna. They’ll be rounding this corridor in seconds.

You shove at Abby, harder. “Go. Go now.”

But he’s LAUGHING. The fuckass is laughing, muffling it behind that dumb smug smirk like this is the funniest shit ever.

You smack the back of his head, panicked. “Are you trying to get me killed?!”

He grins harder. “If we die like this, honestly? Worth it.”

“Abby!”

Zoey’s voice: “Wait… why’s the floor wet back here? Was someone—”

She turns the corner.

She sees you.

Sees him.

Sees you, basically naked, thigh still up, Abby shirtless and pressed into you, steam rising off both of you.

Zoey screams.

Mira slams in behind her a half-second later, silent, deadly, her eyes going wide.

Abby, still shirtless, just waves. “Hey.”

You are going to die.

“YOU.” Zoey shrieks, pointing. “ARE YOU INSANE?!”

Mira? Mira’s face is stone. Pissed. Her arms are folded. Her jaw is clenched. And she’s staring directly at Abby’s glistening chest.

You, meanwhile, are red. Not pink. Not flushed. Red. Half-wrapped in a towel. Half-tangled in him. All of you exposed, literally and emotionally, in the worst way possible. You’ve barely had time to stumble back and yank your towel up around your chest when he decides to speak.

“Yo.” Abby says with the most unbothered, dumbass charm in the world. “Heeeeeeey girls.”

He actually lifts a hand. Like he didn’t just get caught shoving his demon tongue down your throat in a public women’s bathhouse.

Zoey looks like she’s about to scream a second time. Possibly kill you. Possibly him first.

And what does this stupid man say next?

“You know what,” he continues, glancing between them and then at you. “I feel like… you guys got some things to work out. Real important girl talk. Imma… just.” He gestures vaguely toward the exit, completely unapologetic. “Slide out. Give you all some space. Respectfully.”

You gape. “Abby—”

He turns, halfway out the door, then glances back at you, slow, like he’s throwing a whole-ass grenade at your friendship. And then, he calls:

“Catch you later, babe.”

Babe.

In front of them.

AND THEN THE BASTARD WINKS.

Winks, flexes without flexing, and vanishes.

You are.

So.

Fucked.

You’re clutching your towel to your chest, dripping water, heart hammering so loud it might as well be a war drum. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words. Just a stupid, guilty sound like, “Uh—��

“How long.” Mira says, deadly quiet,

You blink. “I—”

“HOW LONG?!” Zoey practically screams, her arms thrown up like she might start flinging bath sandals at you. “You’ve been sneaking off to tongue wrestle with a Saja Boy?!”

“It’s not like that—”

“Oh, it’s not?” she snaps. “Because from where I was standing? It looked exactly like that. Unless ‘chest licking in a sacred women’s bathhouse’ means something different in demon-speak.”

“Zoey.” Mira says again, voice low. “Let her talk.”

“Why?! So she can lie again?”

You feel it. The shame. The guilt. The sting of it.

Because you didn’t tell them. Not when you should’ve. Not when it started. Not after the first time. Not after the sixth. Not even after you knew it was something real, something that wasn’t going to just go away if you pretended hard enough. You stayed quiet. Let them think you were just normal. Still loyal. Still on-mission.

But you weren’t. You’d fallen into bed with the enemy, and now it’s your best friends staring at you like you’re the monster.

“Okay.” you say, quietly. “Okay. Look.” You take a breath. It comes out shaky. “Yes. It’s been going on. And yes. I know how it looks.”

“You lied to us.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“Bullshit.” Zoey hisses. “You snuck around behind our backs with the very thing we’ve sworn to eliminate. You let one of them turn you into his little secret side piece—”

“Stop.” you snap, louder than you meant to. “Don’t talk about me like that.”

Silence again.

“I’m not a side piece.” you say, quieter. “And he’s not just… whatever you think he is.”

Zoey’s expression warps into something like heartbreak. “You’re in love with him.”

You look away.

“Oh my god.” She covers her face.

“I didn’t plan for this.” you try, pleading now. “It just—it happened. And I know it’s wrong. I know what he is. But I also know what he’s not. He’s not—” You gesture weakly toward the steam he vanished into. “He’s not hurting people. Not the way we thought.”

Mira steps forward, eyes sharp. “And what happens when he does? When we take him out? What then?”

You swallow. You don’t answer. Because you don’t know. And they see that.

After the bathhouse blowout, the tension clung to your skin worse than the towel.

Mira and Zoey walked ahead of you the whole way home, Mira silent, Zoey muttering to herself in rage, still trying to process the abomination of seeing you with Abby’s abs all up in your personal space. You trailed behind, wrapped in shame, hair dripping, stomach doing flips that had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with impending doom.

“Let me tell her.” you said, the second the elevator doors opened to the penthouse. “Let me tell Rumi myself.”

Mira turned to you, her jaw clenched. “You sure?”

“No.” you said. “But I’m going to.”

They just exchanged a look, silent agreement, and then headed to the kitchen like they weren’t absolutely going to lurk by the hallway to hear every single word.

You find Rumi in her room. She’s standing by the window. You almost leave. Almost. But then she turns. “You need something?”

Your throat closes.

Yeah. Just your life exploding.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask, voice trembling. “It’s… personal.”

She gestures toward the chair. You don’t sit. You can’t. You’re vibrating with nerves, practically bouncing out of your skin. You pace instead, like if you move enough, the words will come easier. They don’t.

“Okay, so—so.” you start, hands waving like you’re trying to draw the sentence into existence. “So, you’re gonna be mad. Just—please, can you let me finish first before you say anything? Just let me get it out all at once, because if I stop, I won’t say it, and I have to say it because it’s already—happened, and Zoey and Mira know, and you’re going to find out anyway, and I need it to come from me.”

Rumi’s arms cross slowly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m dating Abby.” you blurt.

Silence.

You say it again, just to fill the space. “I’m dating Abby. From Saja. The one with the abs and the arms and the—yeah. Him.”

Still no reaction.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It wasn’t, like, some weird betrayal thing. I didn’t go into this planning to screw around with the enemy, I swear. It just—he was there, and he’s funny, and stupid, and sweet, and he’s not like what we thought. And yeah, I know it’s a conflict of interest. I know it’s dangerous, and I know we’re supposed to be hunting them, and it’s all wrong, but it doesn’t feel wrong when I’m with him. It just feels like… mine. Like something I chose. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

You finally stop.

You wait.

“…You’re joking.”

Your heart drops. “I’m not.”

You’ve never seen Rumi this mad without even raising her voice.

“You’re sleeping with a demon.” she says, cold. “A Saja Boy. One of the five. Our primary targets.”

You flinch. “It’s not like that—”

“Did he charm you? Manipulate you? Feed off you?”

“No! Rumi, he hasn’t even—he hasn’t taken anything from me.”

“Oh, but he took you, huh?” Her voice cuts like glass. “He gets the girl, the inside scoop, the trust, and we get what? A betrayal?”

You step forward. “I didn’t betray you.”

“You didn’t tell me. You kept it a secret. You let this go on while we’ve been risking our lives—my life—hunting down his kind. You don’t think that’s betrayal?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Because you did. You did lie. Maybe not in words, but in silence.

“You’ve compromised our entire mission.” she hisses, turning her back on you. “You think this is just about sex or feelings or whatever he gave you to keep you quiet? It’s bigger than that. He’s dangerous. And you let him in.”

“I didn’t let him in.” you snap, suddenly defensive. “He got in because he wanted me. Because he likes me. Because I like him.”

“And when the time comes,” she says, turning back around, eyes locked on yours. “and you have to choose between us and him, what’s your play?”

You’re shaking.

You can’t answer.

And Rumi sees it.

“…Get out.”

“Rumi—”

“Get. Out. Before I say something we both regret.”

You stagger back. One step. Then another.

And as you open the door—Zoey and Mira. Absolutely planted on the other side. Zoey straightens so fast she almost falls into a lamp. Mira just steps back, arms crossed, deadpan. Neither of them says a word.

You don’t say anything either.

You just walk away.

ROMANCE

Ohhh baby. You’ve just opened Pandora’s box with Romance.

The first time you and Romance crossed paths just the two of you, it was bloody. And violent. And frankly, stupid hot in hindsight.

You were rooftop hunting, your blade humming with enchanted energy, adrenaline in your teeth. The Saja Boys were slippery—always were—but he showed up like he’d been waiting for you.

You fought.

He was strong, too strong. Slippery. Every move came with a smirk, a breathy compliment, some infuriating “ooh, I like it when you’re rough.” You were sweating, pissed, cornered on the edge of a skylight.

But you didn’t back down.

You clocked him, hard, elbow to the jaw, leg sweep, blade to his throat, and he went down. Fell like a sack of demons with a ridiculous grunt and a flutter of his pretty shirt.

You stood there panting, blade raised.

Victory. Yours.

You even kicked him, toe of your boot to his ribs. “Dead?” you muttered.

He grabbed your ankle, fast as lightning, yanked, and dragged you straight to the ground with him. The breath left your lungs. Your body slammed to his. And suddenly? You were chest-to-chest with him, both breathing hard. His smile was bloody and filthy.

“Now this,” he purred. “is foreplay.”

You tied him up after that. You had to. Found rope in the storage unit of the building, tied his wrists behind his back, looped around the support beam. He didn’t fight it, no, of course not. He just watched you. Smirked. Made comments.

“That grip.” he said. “Ever thought of moonlighting in bondage? You’ve got talent.”

You should’ve killed him. Should’ve. He was just lying there, helpless, caked in blood.

But something in you faltered.

So you left him. Said it was a warning.

Before you left, he looked at you with those bedroom eyes and said, “Next time, bring better rope. You’ll be the one staying.”

And you did.

You came back. In the dead of night, alone.

And he wasn’t tied up anymore.

No, that time you were the one in knots.

Literal ones. Spread out, mouth covered in tape, eyes wide while he knelt between your legs, chin lifted and so fucking pleased with himself.

He whispered things you still feel heat up your spine when you’re alone in the shower.

That was the real beginning.

You’re not blameless. You like it. You like the chase, the secrets, the tension in every stolen second.

Romance doesn’t ask. He offers. He tempts. He brushes his fingers along your collarbone in passing, whispers filth into your ear just to see you shiver. He invites you to meet with him night after night. You go. Every time.

You’d call him a slut, except he only ever wants you.

He’s also attentive. Not the good boy kind, no. He’s too much of a tease for that. But he knows when you’re stressed, when you’re insecure, when you need to be fucked out of your head or just held while he brushes your hair. Super senses like he has do wonders in him getting your little feelings. Romance also has a memory like a thief. Remembers everything you say, down to the way you phrased it.

He’s obsessed with you. Openly.

But he also won’t stop flirting with other people in front of you just to rile you up.

(You’ve slapped him for it. He moaned. It didn’t help.)

He knows exactly what you are. A killer. A blade. Something sacred and trained and dangerous.

And he adores it.

“God, baby,” he’ll murmur while trailing his mouth down your thigh. “do you know how hot it is that you could murder me and choose not to?”

You don’t tell the girls. Obviously. They’d lose their minds.

Because you’re supposed to be on a mission to exorcise his ass from the planet—not get your back blown out on rooftops between hunts.

For an example, you let him tie you up again last night. He read you poetry while he did it. From memory. Filthy, ancient verses in a demon tongue you didn’t know—but understood perfectly from his eyes alone.

And when he made you scream his name, you think the whole street heard it.

Even when he’s being a tease—pulling your panties to the side in an alley or teasing you with promises he has no intention of letting you walk away from—his hands are always reverent. Worshipful.

He runs his fingers down your back when you’re not even paying attention. Laces your fingers together when you’re not touching him.

Then, it started with a bra strap.

Well, a glimpse of it, really, something delicate, lacy, red, peeking just above your sports tank when you bent down to pick up your dagger from the training mat. You didn’t even notice. But Zoey did. She always does.

Zoey squinted. “Since when do you wear matching sets for patrol?”

Mira glanced up from her weights, brow cocked.

You just shrugged. Played it off. “Self-care.”

They didn’t buy it.

And then it happened again.

The next night. And the next.

A different set this time, satin, black, barely-there. They weren’t judging you for it. Please. You’re hot, you’re allowed to feel yourself. But there was a pattern emerging, and it had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with how you were always glowing when you came back from “walks.”

Your cheeks flushed. Your lips bitten. The scent of perfume that wasn’t yours clinging to your jacket.

And the final straw? Rumi walked into your room to grab something and saw an empty condom wrapper on your nightstand. You weren’t even home.

That night, the three of them made a decision.

They were going to follow you.

It’s late.

You thought you were slick—slipping out the back stairwell in your “casual clothes” (which just so happen to include a barely-buttoned blouse and lace-trimmed thigh harness under a trench coat). Hair glossy. Lip gloss glossier.

You head toward a park a few blocks away. A little bench nestled between two massive trees. Always quiet. Always shadowed.

And sitting there, legs crossed, coat open over a shirt unbuttoned just enough is Romance.

He looks up, sees you, and grins. That slow, wolfish, I’m-gonna-undress-you-without-touching-you kind of smile.

“You’re late.” he says.

“You’re early.”

“I’m always early. It gives me more time to think about you.” He says it like a whisper. You bite back a smile, step closer, the night air curling around your ankles like it knows this is wrong and wants in.

He reaches for your hand, brushes his thumb over your knuckles. Doesn’t even glance at your dagger strapped to your thigh.

You lean in, eyes half-lidded. “What if I was here to kill you this time?”

“Then tie me up first. You know how I like it.”

You laugh. It’s soft. Intimate. Familiar.

That’s the sound that does it.

Zoey’s voice, “Whaaaaaaaat.”

You whirl around.

Rumi. Zoey. Mira. Standing just behind the tree line, like they’d been parked there for ten whole minutes, watching your little forbidden lovers’ reunion.

Your blood goes cold.

Romance just sits back, arm along the bench like this is hilarious.

Zoey’s eyes are bulging. “Are you seriously making out with Romance?! As in Saja Boy, Romance?! Mister demon dick himself?!”

Mira’s arms are crossed, her voice dry. “So that’s what all the lace was about.”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

Romance, unbothered, lifts two fingers in a lazy salute. “Ladies.”

“Don’t you ladies me.” Zoey snaps, stomping forward. “What the fuck, Y/N?!”

You stumble over your words. “I—I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like—okay, not like this. I wasn’t using him or betraying anyone or—”

“Oh my god, are you in love with him?!” Zoey howls.

Romance leans closer to you, whispers, “Say yes.”

You elbow him in the ribs so hard he wheezes. But he’s laughing. This fucker is laughing. And that laugh? It seals your fate.

Rumi steps forward, voice cold as glass. “Go home. Now.”

You look at Romance. He gives you a wink. A wink. He’s enjoying this. He is.

You turn to leave.

And you know they’re right behind you. Their silence is heavier than their words. Zoey’s arms are flailing in disbelief. Mira’s jaw is tight. Rumi says nothing, but you can feel her disappointment.

Back at the penthouse, everything feels louder. The walls feel tighter. Every footstep echoes like judgment.

You try not to flinch as the elevator closes behind you, sealing you inside with three of the people you love the most, and who now all look at you like you’re a stranger.

No one speaks.

You want to say something, break the silence, offer an explanation, but your throat’s tight, heart hammering against your ribs like it’s trying to escape before Rumi cuts it out herself.

When the elevator dings open at your floor, it’s Zoey who moves first. Quiet. Shoulders tense. Mira walks out after her. Rumi walks last, slow and composed, her silence ten times more dangerous than if she’d yelled.

You don’t even make it to the living room before Mira turns on you. “What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You swallow. “I was going to tell you—”

“When?!” Mira snaps. “After you fucked all of them? Or just after the Saja Boys rip our hearts out?! Which was it?!”

“I didn’t—” You exhale, hands up, trying to keep your voice steady. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t mean to fall into something with him.” You’ve gone over it a thousand times in your head. Every rule you broke. Every kill order you ignored. Every night you slipped away when your best friends were asleep, trusting you to be one of them, not one of the fucking enemy’s bedwarmers. “I know what I did.” you say, quieter. “I know it’s wrong.”

Zoey finally speaks, voice soft. “Then why did you keep doing it?”

You look at her. And she looks like she’s not angry like Mira, not composed like Rumi. Just… hurt. Her arms are folded across her chest.

“I don’t know.” you admit. “He’s a demon. He’s everything we’re trained to kill. But—”

“But you let him charm his way between your legs and now suddenly that makes it okay?” Mira’s voice is sharp. “You endangered us. All of us.”

“No.” you snap, louder now. “I would never let anything happen to you. I’m not stupid. I’m not just lying there letting him feed off my soul—he hasn’t even touched that part of me. I wouldn’t let him. I’m not a liability, Mira.”

“You are.” Mira spits.

Silence again.

You feel it in your stomach, a cold pit of shame. But beneath it, there’s something else. Something like defiance. Because yes, maybe you’re making a mistake. Maybe you crossed every line. Maybe you’re betraying the oath, the cause, the sisterhood.

But it wasn’t just sex. Not with Romance.

He sees you. Wants you. Not your blade, not your strength, not your usefulness to the mission.

Just… you.

“He cares about me.” you say, quietly.

“That doesn’t matter.” Rumi says. Her voice is so soft. “You’re a hunter. You don’t get to fall for the monsters. You kill them. Or you compromise everything we’ve built.”

Oh Rumi, we know why you think that.

Zoey bites her lip, voice shaking. “Are you in love with him?”

You hesitate.

And that’s the answer.

Mira throws up her hands. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Rumi looks at you like she’s assessing whether or not to kick you off the team. “We’re here to stop them, Y/N. All of them. We don’t get to make exceptions because they kiss nice or talk pretty.”

You nod slowly. “I know that.”

“Do you?” Rumi steps closer. “Because the second he snaps his fingers, and decides he’s hungry, you’re the first soul he’s going to devour.”

Do you really think that Rumi, or you’re just making shit up to stop your beloved Y/N from making the same mistake your mother did?

You want to scream that it’s not like that. That Romance—for all his bullshit, his flirting, his filthy mouth—has never once made you feel prey. You’ve never seen him lose control. Never once doubted he would stop if you told him to.

But even you know that doesn’t make it safe.

You glance between them, the three people you’ve fought with, bled with, survived with, and it feels like you’re in the wrong. You are.

Zoey steps forward finally, hand brushing yours. “If you really love him… then please be careful. Don’t make us bury you because you thought he was different.”

Her voice breaks at the end.

And Mira won’t even look at you.

Rumi just turns and walks toward her room. Before she disappears down the hall, she says one last thing:

“You have one chance to fix this. Or next time, it’s me that puts a blade in his chest.”

The door slams.

Your pretty underwear under your clothes feels stupid now.

But even through all that, you know, deep down?

You’re not going to stop seeing him.

And that’s the problem.

BABY

Oh, Baby.

You hate(d) his name.

Baby.

You don’t even know when it started.

Just that one second you were fighting, and the next?

You were… not.

It was supposed to be a quick hunt. You’d gotten separated from the girls for like five minutes—five whole damn minutes—and then bam. He was there.

Backstage, right behind the curtains at some underground venue, blinking at you like you were the surprise, not him.

Did he say anything?

No.

Just smirked.

And you knew it was a smirk, even if his mouth barely moved. Something about the way his eyes narrowed, chin tilted. The unbothered little lean against the wall, arms crossed. Hair too shiny. Mouth too glossy. Pretty in a way that made you want to scratch it up.

So you drew your blade.

He didn’t move. Just blinked again. Like you were the one being ridiculous. Then you lunged. He blocked you, lazy, like your movements were predictable. A joke. Your blade barely missed his throat, and he laughed. Not even like a proper laugh. Just this airy “heh” with his head tilted like, Is that all?

And you? Furious. Mortified. Already picturing the way Mira would roast you for getting played by the baby demon.

So you kicked his leg out from under him. Hard.

The fight got into close combat from there, your blade dropped to the floor. And the two of you just… went at it. Not even fighting anymore, just grappling, rolling across concrete with all the force and heat of a catfight.

His fingers in your hair. Your hand around his throat. Neither of you speaking, just panting, growling, gritting teeth. And his face?

Still blank. Still bratty. Still beautiful.

Until your knee landed in a very strategic place and he grunted—actually made a sound—and somehow that flipped a switch.

Next thing you knew?

You were on your back, shirt pushed up, his mouth on your tits, sharp little teeth teasing your skin as you hissed at him to fucking go.

“The girls are almost on. I have to go.” You hissed.

His response? A slow blink. Like you’re so loud and he was busy. Then he kissed a bite-mark over your nipple like it was his fucking signature and pulled back, shirt half untucked, his lips all red, and not a care in the world.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t wink. Didn’t flirt. Just looked at you like he expected you to come back later. Like he knew you would.

You did.

Because Baby is… different.

He doesn’t do the “Oh, I want you so bad” stuff. That’s Romance’s thing. Doesn’t do the “I’ll protect you, angel” softness. That’s Jinu. Doesn’t even do the “Come here, babe, sit on my lap” gym rat boyfriend vibes. That’s Abby. Doesn’t let you control him like Mystery does.

Baby ignores your ass half the time.

You text him that you’re downstairs? He doesn’t even buzz you up. You have to break in. You say something flirty and he shrugs. You try to make plans and he answers with a yawn.

But when you’re alone? When you’re in the dark corners of club basements or dressing rooms or the stairwell no one uses between the 6th and 7th floors of the broadcast building?

He’s all teeth and tongue and whispers against your throat. Biting. Mouthing. Slouching against you like he doesn’t care but always pulling you closer.

He talks more with his mouth on your body than he ever does out loud.

His affection comes in weird little ways. Like slipping your favorite drink into your bag without saying anything, which he clearly stole from someone. Like swiping the exact eyeshadow palette you complimented on a make up staff member.

Like blowing off fan meetings just to sit in the dark and watch you stretch, head tilted.

And every time you call him out on it?

He gaslights you. Fully.

“What palette?”

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“You said I could come in.”

“You didn’t say stop.”

Smug. Rude. Hot as fuck.

And for all his demon blood and dead-eyed stares, there are moments—tiny, barely-there glimpses—where you think he might actually care about you. Like really care.

He is the worst, but underneath that generally insufferable personality, he actually kinda likes you.

He still ignores the fuck out of you.

Deadass. You’ll walk into a room and Baby won’t even glance up. You’ll say hi and he won’t say anything back. Doesn’t even nod. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve told him to move. He never moves. Just slowly looks at you like you’re interrupting.

But the second you’re smiling on your phone, texting?

Laughing too hard?

Not paying attention to him?

He’s right there. Doesn’t say a word. Just drapes himself over you like a cat and sighs against your neck like this is what I had to resort to?—then nips at your collarbone.

You tell him to go away. He doesn’t.

You shove at him. He goes heavier.

You call him annoying.

His answer:

“Mhm.”

You’ll be pouring tea, being the sweet, functional human being you are, and he’ll just… slide his mug over. No eye contact. No “please.” Not even a “yo.” He just tugs on your sleeve once and you already know.

You always say the same thing: “I’m not your maid.”

To which he always responds by… waiting.

Not moving.

Just standing there like …so?

So you pour the tea.

Every. Damn. Time.

(And then he takes a tiny sip and says, “Too hot.” And you fantasize about kicking him in the shins.)

He has the nerve to walk around with that adorable, sweet little face. Wide eyes. Lashes for days. Little nose. Pink lips. He blinks at people and they melt.

“Oh my god, is he shy?”

“He’s so precious!”

“Aww, he’s like a little bunny!”

LIES.

Baby is a demon.

A predator.

A horrible little shit who absolutely uses his face as a weapon.

Don’t even get me STARTED on his voice. It does not match him. At all. It’s low and slow and filthy, like it’s meant for whispering horrible things directly into your ear. And he knows it. He uses it. He’ll say your name in that voice, right behind you, when he wants something. And every time it works, you hate yourself a little more.

You hate him.

You want to climb him like a tree.

You’re the problem.

He likes you though. He really does.

He doesn’t say it. Obviously. But you know.

He shows up at your window at 2 a.m. and does not leave you alone, that’s his love language. You wonder what Gwi-Ma thinks about that. Does he insult the poor boy in his head? Leaves the topic alone? A wonder, really.

He doesn’t care about people. Not really. Not like you do.

He’s selfish. Bratty. Condescending.

He never says “I love you.” Never writes sweet notes. Never says “I miss you” or calls you beautiful.

But he stays. He lingers. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when he’s tired. He lets you sleep on his chest when you both sneak off after dark. He lets you see the version of him no one else gets to.

You’re not sure if this is love, or madness, or both. But you keep crawling back. Keep letting him tug you close. Keep pretending it’s not dangerous, even though it’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.

Yeah.

He’s terrible.

But you like him that way.

Anyways, your room is big. Like, stupidly big. The girls fought tooth and nail for this penthouse, and somehow, you ended up with the one room that had its own damn sitting area, fireplace, and balcony. Probably because you “never bring people over.”

Ha.

Right now, you’re sitting on your bed, one leg bent, your hair damp from a shower, some oversized shirt slipping off your shoulder. You’re glowing, content, the kind of comfort that only comes when your secret demon boyfriend is stretched out across your silk sheets.

Baby, flat on his back, hoodie pushed up just enough to expose his stomach. He’s got one arm under his head, and the other lazily dragging over your thigh.

And you’re telling him a story. Some stupid one from earlier. About Zoey trying to cook eggs and somehow setting off the fire suppression system, and Mira slipping in the foam and cussing in three different languages, and Rumi trying to keep everyone calm.

He doesn’t say much—he never does—but every once in a while, he makes this little “hn” sound that means he’s listening. His eyes flutter closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks, and you gently run your fingers across the curve of his bare stomach as you speak.

Just light touches. Lazy, mindless. Your thumb sweeping around his navel. Tracing the faint v-line that disappears under his waistband. And he just takes it. Like he deserves to be pet.

His hips shift just slightly, subtle little rolls into your hand. His lips twitch. He hums.

“You’re distracting.” you mutter, dragging your fingers down his side.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t even open his eyes. Just tugs on the hem of your shirt like he wants it off but can’t be bothered to do it himself.

You laugh a little and lean over him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He lets you. He always does. Touchy and spoiled and acting like he’s the one doing you a favor by being here.

His fingers brush the back of your knee. Slide higher. God, he is so touchy. Not in a Romance kind of way, not in a flirty, dirty whisper way. Just clingy. Needy in a wordless, bratty little way. Always tugging at you. Always reaching. Not because he wanted attention, but because he expected it.

You’re just about to crawl into his lap when he suddenly opens his eyes—not startled, not alarmed, just blank. “Behind you.”

You blink. “What?”

“Door.”

You frown, confused. Turn to look, and your soul leaves your body.

Zoey. Mira. Rumi. Peeking through your bedroom door, all crammed into the tiny sliver they must’ve pushed open while you were distracted. All of them with their mouths slightly open. Eyes wide.

They must’ve been watching you for minutes.

Baby waves to them lazily.

The second your eyes meet theirs, they jerk back like they’d been slapped and slam the door shut.

SLAM.

Silence.

You stare at the door.

Baby stretches behind you, unfazed.

“You forgot to lock it.” he says, yawning like this is the most boring turn of events that’s ever happened to him.

“You watched them watch us!” you hiss, slapping his chest.

He shrugs. “You looked cute. Figured they’d agree.”

You launch a pillow at his face. He lets it hit him and doesn’t even blink.

You shoot to your feet like you’ve been lit on fire. You’re not even fully dressed, just the shirt, some thin little shorts, no bra, and your heart is thrashing in your chest because oh my god they saw. They saw everything. “You couldn’t have warned me earlier?!”

He gives a lazy shrug. “Didn’t think they’d stay.”

You smack him in the chest, hard.

“OW—what?!” he complains, still not even bothering to sit up. “You were telling a story.”

“Get out.” you whisper-yell, frantically waving your hands. “Go, go, GO!”

He groans dramatically, sitting up like it physically pains him. “You’re so loud.” he mutters.

But he stands anyway, tugging his hoodie down and making zero effort to look guilty. His hair’s a little messy, lips pink, eyes smug. He’s glowing like a man who’s very satisfied with his life choices. He is casually stretching his arms over his head. Right before he leaves, he pauses, looks at you, and then? Then he raises his voice just enough for the hallway to hear: “BYE GIIIIIRLS.”

He snorts to himself, satisfied with how he fucked up this for you even more, and leaves you there. Alone. Staring at the spot he just vanished from.

Okay, yeah, alright. You take a deep deep breath and walk over to your door to open it.

Rumi. Zoey. Mira. All standing in the hallway, backlit by the soft pendant lights. Their expressions? Zoey looks like she’s on the verge of tears but holding it together with sheer willpower. Mira’s pacing, fists clenched so hard her knuckles are white. Rumi is just staring at you, arms crossed, completely still. That’s the scariest part.

“Okay,” you say, voice cracking like the ice you’re walking on. “that was—”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.” Mira explodes. Her hands fling up like she’s physically restraining herself from throwing them at you. “You had him in your room?! While we were home?!”

“It’s not like I—”

“Don’t.” Rumi says. Soft. Controlled. Dangerous. “Don’t say it’s not what it looked like.”

It was what it looked like.

Zoey finally speaks. Her voice is so small it hurts. “You… you’re with him?”

“I didn’t—” you start, stepping forward instinctively, “I wasn’t gonna— I mean, I was, I just—” You sigh and rake both hands through your hair. “Yeah. I’m with him.”

Silence.

Rumi’s brows lift slightly. “For how long?”

You look at the ceiling. “A while.”

“Did he brainwash you?” Mira snaps. “Are you cursed? Are you fucking STUPID—”

“Mira.” Rumi’s voice cuts like a blade.

“No, I wanna hear her say it.” Mira hisses, rounding on you. “Do you even care that he’s a demon? That he’s probably feeding off you? That he’s probably laughing with the rest of those Saja freaks about how easy it was to get a Hunter to spread her legs—”

“Shut the fuck up, Mira.” Your voice isn’t loud, but it lands.

Mira steps back.

“…I know what he is.”you say softly. “I know what we are. I’m not confused. I’m not cursed. I’m not being controlled. I know what I’m doing.”

Zoey’s lip trembles. “Then why?”

You glance away. Chew your lip. Feel your chest ache. “Because he’s not what I thought demons were. Not all the time. Not with me.”

Mira scoffs. “Oh, my God.”

Rumi stares at you, then she says, “Go to your room.”

“I—what?”

“Go. To your room. Now.”

You pause for half a second, wanting to argue. Wanting to stand your ground. But you’ve already shredded the ground beneath your feet. So you do as you’re told. You walk back in. Close the door. Sit down on the bed.

The sheets still smell like Baby.

MYSTERY

You like him. God help you, you really do.

It started during one of their meet-and-greets. A crowd full of obsessed fans screaming over them, while you stood in line like a regular human, hair tucked under a cap and sunglasses on your face, just scoping the scene.

That’s when you noticed him in the back. Standing off to the side like he wasn’t even part of the group. His mic wasn’t on. He wasn’t smiling. Just kind of… existing.

You don’t know what possessed you, maybe it was the odd way his hands were twitching around the prop mic, or the slight crease in his brows as he watched the crowd, but you stepped toward him. Just a little. Close enough that he looked up. Or at least, lifted his chin.

He was holding a lightstick upside down.

And god, something about that made your heart ache. Because he looked so confused. So detached. So alien in that moment. Like he didn’t get what any of this was for.

So you’d whispered, “Turn it around. Other way.”

He blinked. Glanced at it. Turned it slowly, obediently.

You reached out and twisted his fingers to hold it right. “There. Like that.”

He didn’t speak. Not yet. But he watched you. All of you. Your hands, your mouth, your face.

And when you turned to go?

“…Thanks.” he said. So small. So low. Barely audible.

After that, he kept noticing you. You’d catch him watching from across rooftops during a hunt, or from the shadows of backstage areas. Silent. Unmoving. A presence. He never approached you directly—you had to do that—but he let you. Which, coming from him, was kind of massive.

You started sneaking around. Sitting next to him when you knew the other Saja boys wouldn’t be around. Leaving stupid little notes for him where you knew he’d find them. One time you brought him a chocolate bar and he ate it. Quietly. Slowly. Then murmured, “Too sweet.” and handed the wrapper back.

You’ve learned to read his silences. Every little shrug or pause or twitch is a language now. One you understand. But he also talks, like:

“You smell good.”

“Don’t go yet.”

“You looked sad today.”

He didn’t have to be sweet with you. Or quiet. Or gentle.

He just chose to be.

Once you were in the alley behind a club where both your crews had performed. The others were still inside fighting. But he had slipped out. And so had you. Not nice, you know, but it felt right.

He had his back against the wall, shoulders relaxed.

You had asked him, “Why are you always so quiet?”

He shrugged. “Nothing to say.”

You rolled your eyes. “There’s always something to say.” And then you turned toward him, shoulder brushing his, and whispered, “Like… if you wanted to kiss me.”

His breath stilled.

You watched his lashes lower behind his heavy hair. You could barely see his eyes, but you could feel them.

And then, softly:

“…Can I?”

You nodded.

He kissed you. No tongue, no hands, no hunger—not at first. Just lips.

Then you leaned in harder. Slid your hand up his chest.

Then he moved.

And after that? It was on.

It was a relationship—even if the word felt too loud, too bright, too human. You didn’t label it. You didn’t talk about it. But you felt it every time he waited for you. Every time he slipped into your space. Every time he murmured your name.

Don’t even get me started on the patterns on his dick. It’s weirdly attractive.

WHO SAID THAT?!

And then you got caught.

It had been weeks. The girls were suspicious, but they hadn’t figured him out yet. The others? Sure. But Mystery? Who could tell what he was even thinking, let alone who he was touching?

So that night, you got bold.

It was late. Everyone else was asleep. You were in the upstairs sunroom, one of your favorite places because it overlooked the whole city. Mystery was curled up with you on the wide window ledge.

Your hand was in his hair. His breath was on your neck. You had just whispered something—you don’t even remember what. Something dumb and soft and sweet.

He turns his face to you and said, “I like it when you talk.”

You blink. Smile. “That so?”

He nods once. “Your voice is warm.”

And you arw about to say something else when Zoey’s voice rang out behind you:

“…You’re kidding me.”

Your whole body jerks.

You turn so fast you almost knock Mystery out the window.

Zoey stands in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up, jaw slack. Mira right behind her, looking like she was about to throw up. And Rumi is staring at Mystery.

And he—fucking audacious—is just sitting there. Calm. Not moving. One arm still around you.

He’s kinda evil so he’s definitely doing that on purpose.

“Okay—okay, listen—”

But Mira is already marching forward, murder in her eyes. “You’re sleeping with him?!”

“He’s not what you think—!”

“He’s a DEMON!”

Zoey looks betrayed. Like it physically hurts her to see you like this.

Rumi just says: “Leave. Both of you.”

Mystery doesn’t move until you move first. He stands slowly, brushing off his shirt. Then he reaches out, tucks your hair behind your ear, and whispers: “I’ll wait.”

Then he vanishes.

You walk back into your room, listening to Rumi. Like your best friends didn’t just see you wrapped up in one of the five you’ve all sworn—sworn—to destroy.

You don’t cry. You don’t know if you can. It’s just this huge, pulsing silence in your chest, like someone rang a bell inside you and then walked away.

To Rumi, this was personal.

We know why.

And she just saw you—her best friend—wrapped up in the arms of something she sees as rot.

Of him.

It’s not even about him being a Saja Boy. Not completely. It’s the idea that you’re letting something like that close to your heart. That you’re flirting with what her bloodline forced on her.

And she’s scared.

You sit there for what feels like forever.

Mystery’s scent still clings to your collar. You wonder if he’s out there waiting like he said. You wonder if the girls will ever look at you the same again.

You wonder if you even deserve it.

[chuluoyi]

the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

[fireinmoonshot]

PART 0.25 OF A BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS JOAQUÍN x READER. Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Warnings: I don't think there are any. Word Count: 892 A/N: So, this is a part 0.5 of the jealous Joaquín fic that I've been working on. I have had a few requests that sort of fit this same kind of vibe so I thought it'd be fun to write a few little drabbles that are sort of leading up to the main fic using requests you've been sending in. This is the first one based on the prompt "So what? You're dating them now?" which a couple of people requested. I will add links to the other drabbles and the main fic when they're all posted! 💗

Despite the fact that Joaquin hates hearing all about the dates you go on, he always listens in whenever you talk about them. You rarely ever talk about them to him – mostly because you sometimes get a little intimidated talking to your best friend about the men you date when you find him so attractive. But he always listens. 

His worst nightmares seem to have come to life tonight, though.

After years of failed dates and Joaquin hoping that maybe he’d get the courage to admit his feelings to you or maybe you’d suddenly admit to him that you liked him as well, you’re talking about how your last date had gone perfectly. 

Kira, one of your mutual friends, squeals in excitement. “Oh my god, that’s incredible! I knew that there were good ones out there somewhere. They’re clearly just hidden very deep in the wild. But babe, he could be the love of your life!”

Joaquin, sitting in the drivers seat of the car as he drives you and Kira back to your houses after spending the night out at a bar, tries not to say what he’s thinking out loud. Are you sure that he’s the love of your life? How perfect was the date exactly? I’m sure there are some red flags. Yeah, they’re not things that you’d really like to hear. 

When he drops Kira off at her apartment, though, and then it’s just the two of you in the car, he can’t manage to keep his mouth shut. “So what? You’re dating them now?” He asks, glancing over at you as he drives.

You look at him from your spot in the passenger seat, trying not to notice the way the muscles in his arms look as he holds the steering wheel or how much you’d love to reach out and touch his jaw just to see if it’s as sharp as it looks. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you shrug. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “From what you said, I just don’t know if he’s the right guy for you.”

His words surprise you. Joaquin never weighs in on your dating life. As far as you’re aware, he doesn’t like to hear about the dates you go on, but apparently he does listen when you talk about them. You’d assumed he’d been zoning out and focusing on the road while you’d told Kira about the date, probably trying not to ask you to stop talking.

You couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You don’t even know anything about him, Joaquin,” you say, a little defensively, though you’re not sure why you’re that defensive. You even agree with Joaquin a bit. He’s definitely not the love of your life like Kira had suggested he might be but he was a nice enough man and after the dates you’ve been on, a nice man is hard to come by.

“Well, are you happy with him?” He shoots you another look. You notice that his hands have started gripping the steering wheel a little tighter and feel thoroughly confused. 

Sighing, you nod. “I mean, I’m not not happy with him. He’s sweet. He makes me laugh. He’s the only guy I’ve dated lately who’s offered to pay for dinner. He walked me to my car after the date and he texted me to ask if I’d gotten home safe.”

Joaquin scoffs. “Oh, so all the things that even I do for you?”

He regrets the words the second they come out of his mouth. Is it possible to rewind time? He’s pretty sure he can find someone that can do it. Sam would know someone. Even just erasing this moment from both of your minds would do the trick.

You stare at him for a moment, a little bewildered. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, loosening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Joaquin.”

He shakes his head again just as he turns on the indicator and pulls over at your house. This is one of the only times he’s glad that you live so close to Kira – there’s no reason to continue this incredibly embarrassing conversation now that you’re home.

For a moment, you stay in the car. He can feel your eyes staring at him and he can’t bring himself to look away from the road in front of him to look at you. 

He clears his throat. “So, this is your place.”

“Joaquin,” you attempt to try again, but it fails. With a sigh, you undo your seatbelt and grab your handbag from the floor. You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek – something you’ve been doing since the early days of your friendship and something you’re not about to stop doing just because he’s acting weird. “Text me when you get home, please?”

“I will,” he nods, trying not to focus on the way your lips had felt on his cheek.

He only tears his eyes away from the road once you’re out of the car and walking up the front steps to your apartment building. He’d usually walk you all the way inside but tonight, with how embarrassed he’d been, he hadn’t even thought about it. He lets out a groan and lets his head fall into his hands. 

Crushing on you is going to be the death of him.

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5 @voodoo-tofu @happypopcornprincess @antixsocialx2 @innazra @lllucere @moonxnite @peacefangirl @ahoodgirl @ssinphetel @hiireadstuff

[psformybss]

drew starkey x actress!reader

series masterlist

— drew starkey who… used to think he could keep work and emotions separate. Show up, hit his marks, be chill with the cast, and move on. But then she walked into the readthrough, sharp-eyed, sarcastic, too smart for her own good and made him forget every rule he swore by.

— drew starkey who… said she was a bad fit for the show before he even gave her a chance. Told someone in passing that her character felt “forced.” Thought she’d be another spotlight-chaser with something to prove. But when she looked him dead in the eye and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to be your fan,” he knew he’d misjudged her. And it pissed him off.

— drew starkey who… couldn’t stop thinking about her after that first table read. Not because he liked her, he didn’t. Not then. It was the way she challenged him. Interrupted him. Matched him line for line and still made him look like the immature one. She was a problem. And for some reason, he liked problems.

— drew starkey who… tried to be distant, tried to keep it professional, but she made that impossible. She roasted him in front of the whole cast during truth or dare and somehow made it funny and accurate and brutal all at once. He laughed, sure but later he couldn’t sleep. All he could hear was her voice mimicking his. All he could see was the smirk she gave after.

— drew starkey who… started noticing the way her laugh cracked a little when she was tired. The way she stayed late to run lines even when she said she hated being around him. The way his name sounded different when she was annoyed like she could spit it or kiss it. It messed with his head. Made him wish things were different. Made him wonder if they could be.

— drew starkey who… told himself it was just chemistry. Just two good actors with natural friction. But then she cried during a scene and he felt it in his chest. Not the script. Her. And when she walked off set that day, shaken and silent, he followed. And when she finally let him kiss her, it felt like everything before that moment had just been noise.

— drew starkey who… now brings her coffee before call times, even when they’re not speaking. Sends her stupid memes just to get a reaction. Feels like he’s falling every time she calls him out, smiles at him sideways, or sits too close on purpose. She drives him insane but he doesn’t want peace if it means losing her.

— drew starkey who… doesn’t care what people say. Doesn’t care about rumors, press, or PR chaos. She’s the reason every scene feels real now. The reason his trailer feels empty without her in it. He used to think he was better off guarded. Detached. But now? Now he knows, he was just waiting for her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

— actress!reader who… walked into Outer Banks thinking it’d just be a job. A cool opportunity, a fun cast, maybe some good scenes. She didn’t expect Drew Starkey to be cold, distant, and rude from day one. She definitely didn’t expect him to get under her skin the way he did.

— actress!reader who… heard him call her character “forced” behind her back before they’d even spoken two words to each other. Who smiled through introductions but never forgot the way his eyes skimmed over her like she was a problem, not a person. Fine, she thought. If he wanted to act like she didn’t belong, she’d make sure he felt her presence every time she walked on set.

— actress!reader who… fought with him over blocking and tone during their very first scene. Who stood her ground when the director had to step in. Who left rehearsal fuming more times than she could count but still caught herself rewinding moments between them in her head. Because the chemistry? It was there. Even when she hated him.

— actress!reader who… made a joke at his expense during a cast truth-or-dare game and had the whole table crying laughing except him. Who pretended not to notice the way he looked at her after, like she was a puzzle he suddenly couldn’t solve. Like she was fire and he’d just touched it.

— actress!reader who… started catching feelings in the worst, slowest, most inconvenient way. Not in the big, dramatic moments but in the small ones. When she caught him staring during a readthrough. When he sent her a dumb meme late at night just to get a reaction. When he defended her, quietly, to someone who doubted her. That’s when she knew she was screwed.

— actress!reader who… kissed him backstage after an emotional scene, breathless and still shaking, and told herself it didn’t mean anything. That it was adrenaline. That it was acting. But his hands didn’t feel like acting. The way he whispered her name didn’t feel like acting. Nothing between them ever really did.

— actress!reader who… tried to stay professional, but kept finding excuses to be near him. Kept finding comfort in the soft way he said “you good?” between takes. In the silence that wasn’t awkward anymore. In the way he’d start to say something, stop himself, then say it anyway, just for her.

— actress!reader who… spent months pretending not to care, only to realize she always did. And now? Now she steals his hoodies, rolls her eyes when he brings her coffee, roasts him in group chats and still texts him good luck before every big scene. They still argue but now they argue like people who know they’ll always come back to each other.

an: sooo i changed my mind it’s not gonna be a chapter kinda fic mostly cause i dont have the attention span for that rn 😭

taglist: @happy-mushrooms

[sugardollcurse]

coughs.. boys x reader hcs where reader got out of a bad break up a few months before, and maybe the boys go to show affection and they flinch. like NOTICEABLY flinch..

𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑝

𐙚 note ; heeeyy you!! thank you so much for this one!! you know i live to suffer beautifully...

𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪

❝Flinchin’ like I’m gonna deck you or somethin’. That what you think? Christ.❞

The first time it happens, he honestly doesn’t clock it. He moves behind you to grab a record, and your shoulders hitch, just a tiny thing. Barely noticeable. He might think he startled you, but you don’t say anything, and neither does he. He’s too wrapped up in whatever song he wants to put on.

But then it happens again. He brushes your wrist to pull you toward him while he’s saying something sarcastic, and you flinch. Not dramatically, just a wince and a pull back, like you’re bracing for something. He falters, mid-sentence, watching you like you’re a math problem he suddenly can’t solve.

He plays it off. Of course he does. “Jesus, I’m not gonna bite you.” But something needles at him. You don’t laugh. And you look embarrassed, not annoyed.

By the third time, when he reaches for your face and you pull away like it might hurt, he snaps. “Okay, what the fuck is that about?” And now you’re flustered. Apologizing, stumbling, trying to laugh it off, but it’s too late.

“What, d’you think I’m gonna hit you or summat?” he asks, half-defensive, half-wounded. There’s a crack in his voice. You can see how fast his brain is spiraling.

You have to explain. You didn’t mean to make him feel like that. You just… came out of something rough. Nothing obvious. Just a constant low thrum of fear you didn’t know how to turn off. You tell him that your ex wasn’t violent, not exactly, but there was yelling. Control. The kind of shit that makes flinching into instinct.

And John shuts up. Not coldly. Just… quiet. His mouth is tight. He fidgets. And for a few long moments, you think he’s going to leave the room.

He just nods. Keeps his hands in his pockets. His voice is hoarse: “Wish I could punch whoever made you like this.”

The next day, he brings you tea with one hand behind his back. Says, “Comin’ in slow, alright? No fast moves.” It’s a joke, but a soft one. And when you let him touch your cheek this time, he just rests his palm there. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush.

He learns. Slowly. Stubbornly. But he does. And when someone else startles you one day and he watches you flinch, he nearly decks them. That’s the moment you realize he never stopped thinking about it.

𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪

❝It’s alright. I’m not like that, y’know? I’d never. You know that, right?❞

Paul notices immediately. The man’s a hawk for facial reactions. But he’s also so used to being liked that the first time you flinch at his hand brushing your shoulder, he just sort of... freezes. Then laughs. Nervously. “Alright, then,” he says, “guess I’ve got ghost hands now.”

He doesn’t think much of it. Until it happens again. And again. And suddenly it’s not funny. Suddenly, he’s rewinding every interaction in his head wondering what he said wrong. Wondering if he misread the vibe.

He starts pulling back. Subtle at first. Less touchy. Keeps space between you on the couch. Doesn’t reach for your hand unless you offer. You don’t notice at first, too deep in your own tangle of anxiety, but one day he kisses your forehead and you flinch hard, like he’d thrown something.

“...Darlin’,” he says, blinking. “That wasn’t about me, was it?”

And that’s when you explain. Quietly. Because you hadn’t wanted it to be a thing. Your last partner weaponized affection. Used it to get their way. Guilt-tripped you when you didn’t react the way they wanted. It made touch feel dangerous.

Paul listens. He looks like someone’s punched him.

After that, he’s hyper-aware. Walks into rooms slower. Talks softer. Asks every time, even if it’s just reaching for your hand. Not in a pitying way... just... careful. Respectful.

Eventually, when you start touching him first, laying your head on his shoulder, brushing your fingers over his wrist, he doesn’t say anything. Just kisses your temple like he’s praying with it.

He makes it feel safe. Like love with no strings.

𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪

❝Didn’t think I was that scary. Bloody hell.❞

George doesn’t say anything the first time you flinch. He just frowns, narrows his eyes a bit, and files it away. He’s not one to confront shit immediately. He waits. Watches.

But it bothers him. He keeps trying to remember if he was too sharp with his voice. If he moved too fast. If he came off as angry. He doesn’t think he did, but what if you’re scared of him? That idea eats at him.

Second time it happens, he’s just standing behind you, watching you tune his guitar. He reaches forward to adjust the strings, and you startle like he yelled. And he just... goes quiet. Doesn’t even finish the sentence he’d been starting.

He doesn’t bring it up until later. But when he does, it’s in a low, very still voice: “You think I’d hurt you?”

And you panic, of course. Try to explain it all at once. How the flinching isn’t about him, it’s a leftover twitch. Your ex used to grab you when things got heated. Never left bruises, but it was always too fast. Too tight.

George listens with this expression that barely changes, but his jaw clenches. And when you finish, he just nods, then walks into another room for like five minutes. Comes back with tea and his favorite scarf and hands them both to you without comment.

He sits closer after that. Talks more. Shares songs. Starts humming when you’re around. The kind of affection that asks nothing from you. He doesn’t even bring it up again.

But when he does finally reach out, just a pinky brushing yours, you know it took effort. Not because he’s scared, but because he wants it to mean something.

He’s observant. He learns your rhythms. And when someone else startles you at a party, he moves. Fast. Steps between you and them like instinct. Doesn’t say a word. Just stares.

He makes it known....nobody’s allowed to make you flinch anymore!!

𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪

❝Y’don’t have to do that, y’know. I would never. Promise.❞

He notices right away, but he doesn’t react right away. That’s Ringo. Still waters. He clocks it the first time his hand brushes your lower back and you twitch under it like it burned you. His eyes narrow, not dramatically, not for show. Just... calculating. Quiet.

“What? Did I hurt you?” he asks later. Voice low. Serious. No drama in it. And you panic, of course. Try to wave it off. Say you didn’t sleep, had a spasm, anything. He doesn’t push, but he watches you closer after that. Starts piecing things together.

You think he’s backing off out of awkwardness. But he’s not. He’s watching. Learning. Taking inventory.

Then it happens again. A noticeable flinch. This time he was just leaning over you to grab something off a high shelf, no warning, no sound, and your whole body jerked. And he steps back. Looks at you differently now. Not confused. Not offended. But sober.

"You look like you’ve been hit before,” he says, quiet, like he’s not asking. “I don’t like that.”

You try to explain. Haltingly. It wasn’t that bad... but your last partner got physical during fights. Grabbed you hard. Cornered you sometimes. And yeah, you flinch now. Sometimes you don’t even notice it until it’s too late.

Ringo just nods. Like he’s confirming something he already suspected. “Yeah. Thought so.”

He just starts acting different, but subtly. More intentional. Before he touches you, he taps first. Fingertip to wrist. Elbow to shoulder. Like a heads-up. Like, “I’m here, but I won’t move till you do.”

He doesn’t make it weird. Doesn’t smother you. Just stops making you do all the emotional heavy lifting. If you flinch again? He doesn’t freeze. He just pulls his hand back and goes, “That’s alright. I’ll wait.” Like it’s no big deal. Because to him, it’s not about his feelings... it’s about your safety!

And Ringo doesn’t like anyone who fucks with your safety. You find this out later, when some drunk dude at a pub tries to grab your arm and you visibly recoil. Ringo doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t shout. Just steps between you with his body loose and calm and absolutely lethal. He stares the guy down until he stumbles away without a word.

“Don’t need to raise my voice to get rid of trash,” he tells you after. Sips his drink like it never happened.

When you finally touch him first, reach for his hand under the table, curl against him in bed without prompting, he doesn’t react big. He just laces your fingers together and murmurs, “Knew you’d come ‘round.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels

[spicycinnabun]

SO excited for the results of this make me write. It was so hard to decide and I wish I could do them all but I think I will ask for 🤖🤖🤖 or ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 whichever you get less of 🥰

I've got about six other beep boop asks in the queue lol, so I'm going to go with ❤️‍🩹! Let's rewind to before the break-up. c:

♡

They were cuddling on Tommy’s couch. Tommy was behind him, hands resting protectively on Buck’s belly. He had been doing that a lot lately—holding him there, touching him there. Buck wasn’t sure if Tommy was aware he kept doing it.

Buck hadn't said anything. He didn’t want to call attention to it and risk having Tommy stop. Because he liked it. Okay, more than just liked it. His body was sending him strong signals about what the Alpha wanted, and it was making him a little stupid with need.

His heart sped up.

Of course, Tommy noticed. One of his hands started rubbing in a hypnotic, circular motion. “What's up?”

“I-I’ve been thinking,” Buck started, trying not to get distracted by the petting. His eyes closed. “I’d like to spend my next heat with you.”

“Oh?” Tommy said, after a small intake of breath Buck couldn’t really decipher.

He didn't say anything else, waiting for Buck to elaborate on his thoughts.

Buck had never enjoyed his heats. Dreaded them because of how desperate they made him, among other undesirable attributes, but maybe it would be different with Tommy. Every time they’d gotten hot and heavy with each other, it was so good, an intense burn that kept building.

Buck was used to being a service omega, but with Tommy, he hadn't fallen into that role. He didn't feel like a wind-up toy, only good for one use, one purpose. His world had been shaken and turned upside down. He actually felt kind of giddy, for once.

“Y-you said I could set the pace, but I also don’t want to pressure you,” Buck continued. “If you’re not ready yet or don’t want to, that’s totally fine. Or if we get to the middle of things and you decide it’s too much—t-that I’m too much—you don’t have to stay.”

That already went unspoken, but Buck wanted to assure Tommy that he had an out. He wasn’t stuck with Buck if he got too whiny, too needy, too clingy. Like he always did.

Tommy’s grip on him had gone slack. He was silent for so long Buck had to sit up and turn around. Tommy looked… kind of horrified, actually.

Buck’s stomach twisted. That was definitely not the reaction he’d been hoping for.

He backtracked. “O-or! Secret third option: We can forget this conversation ever happened and go on a fun date after my cycle is over. I was looking at this new sushi place the other day that has—”

“No.” Tommy let out a slow breath, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I’m just still trying to process what you said. You think I would leave you in the middle of your heat? That's ludicrous, Evan. Even if, for whatever reason, I couldn’t continue, I wouldn’t abandon any omega like that.” Tommy tilted Buck's chin up gently, eyes filled with sincerity. “Especially not my omega. Have past partners done that to you?”

“Uh.” Buck swallowed hard, feeling suddenly very off-kilter and overwhelmed. “Yes? I’m… you know, a l-lot to handle. D-difficult. E-e-exhausting. It’s okay.”

“Oh, it is so far from okay,” Tommy said. His scent had changed, no longer relaxed. Filling the air with an edge of bitter anger he was trying to keep at bay.

Buck didn’t know what to do, so he followed his instincts and hugged his Alpha. Tommy's tension released. He hugged Buck back. They nuzzled each other, Buck focusing on Tommy's scent gland.

“And now you’re comforting me,” Tommy added with a weak chuckle of disbelief.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Buck murmured, burying his nose in Tommy’s shoulder and kissing it.

“I’m upset for you, Evan. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You're none of those things.” Buck made an involuntary sound, and Tommy squeezed him. “I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to show you what a heat is supposed to be like.”

♡

tag list: @chococara25 @lemon-drop151 @bidisasterevankinard @cannibalhellhound @theallyandhisbeast @loulou-land @harmonic-intervention @manifestingchaoticvibes @notacyborg @tedious-waffle @ginny-lala @figuringitoutaloud @monstertrucksactually @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @know1udno @styxhuntress @all-the-feels @perfectlyhopefulruins @espressopatronum454

[rakhalofthestars]

Pretty Little Baby!

Synopsis: Due to often leaving you alone for long periods of time without meaning to, Boothill gets you a little plushie of himself to keep you company. What he doesn't expect is the jealousy that comes from watching his plushie get all the attention.

Tags: boothill x gn! reader, fluff, banter, established relationship, jealous boothill, soft boothill, reader is a little shit, plushies, overuse of the word "cute" and "adorable" (i tried my best, cut me some slack)

Warnings: None!

wc: 3k

“Oh, here comes the boy! There’s my darling little fella!” Boothill, who had just entered the lounge in your little spaceship, flashes his sharp teeth in a toothy little grin. He scratches his cheek, feeling a little flustered at the affectionate and fond tone in which you were gushing over him. Sure, he may be an intimidating, six foot something cyborg who tends to get trigger happy at times but that doesn’t mean he isn’t weak to being fawned over like this! Especially when it comes from the apple of his eye, you.

“Aw shucks, sugar! Yer really layin’ it on thick, ain’t ya- Oh, forkin’ hell,” Boothill curses. Fooled and ignored once again. He had a feeling Aha was surely laughing it up at his expense currently. Namely because, well, you weren’t fawning over Boothill. Not exactly.

Perhaps it’s best to rewind to a couple weeks earlier to explain Boothill’s current predicament, no?

–

“Aw jeez, darlin’. I’m real sorry, swear on mah hat, I am!” Boothill all but groveled at your feet, desperate to get you to look at him. He could stand anything, from incendiary rounds to lashings but to have the love of his life actively ignore him? That cut deeper than any knife ever could.

“It’s easy for you to apologize but think about how I feel! You said the bounty wouldn’t take so long!” You huffed, lightly jerking your leg in a half-hearted attempt to shake the cowboy off. Aeons above, he really did have an iron grip. Quite literally. 

“It wasn’t s’posed to take so long! Ranger’s honor, darlin’!” “Hard to take you seriously when a man like you doesn’t really have much honor to speak of.” 

Ouch. Boothill winced at that but he was quick to recover. He could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to. Not even you stood a chance and that was certainly an achievement. 

“Yer killin’ me ‘ere, sugar… It ain’t my fault the target was so hard to track down! I tried my best to wrap things up clean an’ quick but y’know how it gets with these kinds o’ stuff.” “So I’m just supposed to forgive you for leaving me all alone in the spaceship for nearly two weeks? Do you have any idea on how lonely it gets here? I had half a mind to start talking to the stars!” “Well, I mean… forgivin’ me is kinda the goal here …” “Boothill, I’m being serious!” The man in question sighs. He really had fucked up this time, hadn’t he? He’d promised that he’d take care of a bounty within a day or two, give or take, before returning back to the ship and spending some much-needed time with you. However, one day turned to two and two days turned to three until it became increasingly clear that Boothill would not be showing up for some time. 

You’d tried to send him a message, asking about his whereabouts and how his mission was going but had cursed when you remembered that Boothill tended to keep his phone switched off so as not to jeopardize a mission like a handful of times before… It’s his fault, really. You’d always been telling him to change that godawful ringtone of his to something else. I mean, who the hell wouldn’t get suspicious if they suddenly heard the loud strumming of a banjo out of nowhere?

Regardless, you had tried your utmost to stay patient. You threw yourself into your own work, keeping yourself occupied so you wouldn’t worry yourself to death over your lover or get too worked up over the fact that he’d made a promise to come back as quickly as he could and take you out on several dates. The two of you had been so busy lately with your respective missions. Some quality time where you and Boothill did nothing else except for being the two most insufferable and lovey-dovey people in existence was long overdue. You’d even planned out various outfits for the outings! When Boothill had finally dragged himself back home and sheepishly popped his head into the room that serves as your workspace, you were beyond pissed. Quite frankly, you were patting yourself on the back for not going nearly as ballistic as you had been feeling. Anyhow, that’s what had led up to the cowboy currently clinging to your legs and whining like a lovesick puppy.

“Look darlin’, I know I forked up, okay? I should’a tried to at least send ya a text an’ explain things instead o’ leavin’ ya all alone like this. I know it ain’t easy,” and he really did mean it. Boothill was no stranger to loneliness and knew just how terrifying it could be to drift through the vast cosmos with no hope of getting into any form of contact with someone you knew. He’d been there, done that already, during a time when bombs fell from the skies instead of snow or rain. “Lemme make it up to ya, sugar. I swear that fer the next few weeks, you’ll get to have me all to yerself!”

And this time, Boothill really did make good on his promise. He took you everywhere, from the beaches and aquariums of Lushaka to tasting the most exquisite Xianzhou dishes that the ships had to offer. He wasted absolutely no expense in the hopes of getting that beautiful smile back on your face and so you’d stop being mad at him. His poor bastard heart just couldn’t take any more of your frowns and glares. It’s not like Boothill was particularly hurting for money anyways. Thanks to the multiple bounties and missions the two of you pulled off, he had more credits than he knew what to do with. Sure, they were mainly ill-gotten gains but if they went to good use, such as keeping you happy, then no principles of his were broken and everyone walks away as happy as a gunslinger in an arms store. 

On one of the dates that Boothill had taken you out on, he surprised you with a little something. Something that he had no idea would come back to bite him in the ass. 

“A… plushie?” You raised a brow and prodded at the doll in your hands.

“Right on, sugar! Figured I’d get ya a lil’ somethin’ to make the lonely days a tad more bearable,” Boothill grinned, feeling immensely proud of himself for coming up with the idea. He’ll admit, perhaps it’s a bit egotistical to get you a plushie of himself but I mean, hey. Who wouldn’t want a mini Boothill by their side? He knows he certainly wouldn’t mind. 

“So… you got me a plushie of yourself instead of… Oh, I dunno, learning to keep your promises and balance your work and personal life in a better way?”

Boothill’s toothy smile faltered. Shit, maybe it hadn’t been such a bright idea after all. Stupid, stupid! 

“Now look ‘ere, darlin’. Y’know how it is in my line o’ work. I can’t promise things ‘cause there’s too many movin’ pieces, get what I’m sayin’? I’ll try mah best to make more time fer the two o’ us. I don’t like bein’ away from ya any more than y’do. But… think o’ the lil’ fella as a backup, in case I get caught up in somethin’, yeah? I mean, who can resist this ol’ face, right?” He grabs the plushie and holds it up, his expression matching the plushie’s. You sighed, pinching at the plushie’s soft cheeks. Huh… maybe having a little tiny Boothill around wouldn’t be so bad.

“Alright, you’ve got a point. Now, c’mere and stop pouting,” which was followed by a chaste kiss on the lips. You were just as weak for Boothill as he was for you. 

Truly, a match made in heaven.

– 

That’s how Boothill had now ended up in this current situation. He’s been replaced! By a mini-him no less! It was a severe blow to his ego, to see you being more invested in a plushie of him than the man himself. 

The cowboy wasn’t quite so sure as to how this entire mess had even started! You hadn’t been particularly thrilled with the plushie at first. I mean, at first, Boothill was convinced you’d maybe use the doll as a means of taking out your anger on him with the way you stared at it sometimes. He half expected to walk in to see it turned into a glorified voodoo doll. 

Perhaps it was the giant eyes and the admittedly cute expression on the doll. Boothill had to pat himself on the back. The company that he’d commissioned to make the plushie had impeccable craftsmanship. The eyes, albeit wider than his own, resembled his own to a T, down to his crosshair pupils even! The hair was soft and fluffy, though not nearly as luxurious and beautiful as his own, thank you kindly. The company had even sewn clothes for the plushie that could be taken off and put on along with a matching cowboy hat! They’d certainly outdone themselves.

Boothill squints at the plushie in your hands, gritting his teeth over the way you were peppering its stupid and dumb little face with kisses. Yep. It was definitely the eyes. It hadn’t taken long for its clueless expression to wear you down and render you hopelessly infatuated with it. 

At first, you opted to simply keep it on your bedside table. A while later, you had begun fussing with the plushie’s hat, adjusting it to the side and giggling quietly at the way the doll’s cuteness only amplified when the hat’s brim covered nearly everything save for its big ol’ eyes and tiny mouth. It reminded you way too much of how Boothill himself looked so endearing when he’d hide his eyes with his hat because you’d flustered the poor guy too much. 

From there, it only snowballed once you realized just how closely the plushie had been made in Boothill’s likeness. It even had his chubby little cheeks! You could almost imagine the plushie whining and swatting at your hands the same way Boothill did whenever your urges surfaced! You just couldn’t help but coo at the adorable thing.

“Boothill, look how fucking adorable this little guy is! You can take his clothes off!” You squeal, eagerly showing your findings to the cowboy, who in turn, smiles wearily.

“Yes, hon’. I know… you’ve pointed this out t’me more times than I can count. What’s so special ‘bout bein’ able to take off it’s clothes anyways? If ya wanted me to get naked, all ya had to do is jus’ ask!” He teases, suggestively tugging at his belt buckle. To his dismay, your attention quickly returns to the doll in your hands.

“Yeah yeah, but just look at the fella! He’s got paws!” “Well, I mean… Them silicone pads on mah ten commandments kinda resemble the pads on a paw too.” “The plushie can leave paw prints in the snow! I tried it!” “You… wait, hol’ on just a sec’! When the fork did ya go someplace with snow?!”

“I got bored while you were away on your mission so I thought I’d go do some sightseeing with Minihill!” “You… named it? Minihill?” Boothill wasn’t sure whether you’d either completely lost your marbles or his sound receptors were malfunctioning. It had been a while since he’d performed some proper maintenance on himself after all…

“Yeah! Minihill! You know… since it’s a mini version of you.” “The lil’ fudgehead is only 20cm, sugar.” “He barely reaches your calves, look!”

Boothill sighs and bites back the overwhelming urge to dropkick the stupid thing. It was stealing you away from him! Truly, a crime that he could never forgive. 

Instead, he resigns himself temporarily to his fate and sits down beside you on the couch, an arm draped across your shoulders. At least the smile on your face made up for everything else. You looked so happy, gabbing on about your little escapades with Minihill.

“Oh! What was that for?” You blink in surprise, cheeks flushing over the kiss that had just been planted on your forehead.

“No reason. Ya jus’ look mighty adorable right now. Like a doll.” “Oh, speaking of dolls…”

Boothill rolls his eyes in fond exasperation as you resume yapping his ear off about the charming (“How the fudge is a plushie s’posed to be charming?! It can’t speak!”) manners of Minihill. Really now, he was starting to reach his limit.

The worst of it came when it was time to retire to bed and get a good night’s rest. Boothill was all but ready to get under the covers, cuddle up with you and be lulled to sleep by the sound of your breathing. Instead…

“Why the fork is that lil’ shirtbag in our bed?!” Boothill eyes the plushie of him warily. Aeons above, he could feel his fingers twitching to grab it by its giant head and toss it out of the room. 

“Why not? He’s so soft and squishy! He’s the perfect cuddle partner!” “AND I AIN’T?!”

You roll your eyes at Boothill’s theatrics. Truth be told, you knew exactly what you were doing, being so overly affectionate with the plushie instead of the man himself. You just couldn’t help it! It was way too much fun, watching the cowboy try his darndest to act all nonchalant and uncaring when in reality, he was seething with jealousy. Over a plushie of him, no less!

“Oh come off it, dear. At least Minihill doesn’t sound like a damn motorcycle when snoring.” “Low blow, darlin’. Real low. Y’know I can’t help it,” “Then you’ll understand why I can’t help but spoil the little guy rotten, right?” You giggle quietly to yourself, watching Boothill curse under his breath.

“You lil’ forker… Y’know exactly what yer doin’, stealin’ my sweetheart away from me.” “Boothill, please stop threatening Minihill with your gun.” “I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout.” “The poor thing is scared! Look at him! He’s shaking in his tiny boots!” “It’s a plushie, for fork’s sake!” You gasp dramatically, looking as scandalized as a Victorian man who’d just seen his wife flashing her ankles in the town square. Immediately, you clamp your hands down on either side of the plushie’s little ears, as if trying to stop it from hearing the “offensive” remarks that Boothill was making. “How dare you! Minihill isn’t just a plushie! He’s an absolute treasure to society and a blessing from the aeons themselves!” “I oughtta drag yer purdy lil’ ash to the nearest mental asylum- Wha-! Hey! How come that shirt-fer-brains gets so many goodnight kisses an’ I don’t?!” “Because he deserves them unlike a certain someone.” “Hey… c’mon now, sugar… ‘M right here…. Throw a dog a bone, please…” Boothill pouts, watching you pepper the plushie’s face in countless kisses before turning the lights off and going to sleep, plushie in arms and everything. Maybe he should’ve expected this. Maybe you were playing the long game and trying to teach him a lesson on just what happens when a cowboy ends up neglecting the love of his life for too long. They get stolen away by tiny plushies, that’s what.

As he watches you snuggle closer to him, pressing a sleepy little kiss to his cheek and mumbling something about how silly he was when he was jealous, Boothill sighs. Of course. Of fucking course you were getting a kick out of this. Perchance it was high time he got back at you. What was the saying again? Ah, right.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

– 

“Why, butter my fudge an’ call me a biscuit! Ain’t you jus’ a pretty lil’ baby!” Your ears perk up upon registering Boothill’s coos and you pop your head into the lounge. There, right there, sat the cowboy, cradling a plushie of… you?! No… surely not? You shuffle closer, squinting at the doll that looked so comically tiny when engulfed in Boothill’s large, metal arms. It is! It really is a plushie of you! From the eyes all the way down to the clothes! You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“...Whatcha got there?” “Oh, darlin’! Ya really opened my eyes to jus’ how forkin’ adorable these lil cutie fudgepies are!” Boothill enthusiastically shows you your plushie version. You clutch Minihill closer to your chest, scooting closer to the cowboy.

“See? I’m always right.” “Mhm, ya sure are. I oughtta have listened to ya earlier! This lil’ cutie is so soft!”

You can’t help but frown, watching Boothill pepper the plushie’s face in kisses. Fuck. Getting a taste of your own medicine really wasn’t for the faint of heart. 

“You… enjoying yourself over there?” “Sure am, darlin’. Never been better. You?” “Yeah… Minihill is lovely.” “I can imagine.” …

“Okay fine, you win!”

Boothill raises a brow and barks out a laugh. Well, that was fast. He should’ve thought of this earlier. He gently sets the plushie of you aside and tugs you onto his lap until you were straddling him. 

“Yeah? Say it ain’t so.” You glare at him. You toss Minihill so it lands beside the plushie version of you and grab Boothill by the jaw, crashing your lips against his. You feel the bastard grin before snaking his arms around your waist and eagerly kissing you back. He sure had missed this.

“So… what have we learned from this?” Boothill asks, a hint of teasing in his gruff voice. You sigh, still panting from the kiss. If there was one thing that no one, not even his plushie, could replicate, it was the exhilarating thrill and affection that his kisses always gave you. 

“That a plushie can’t replace the real deal…” “Yer darn right, it can’t. An’ fer the record, y’ain’t replaceable either. Them plushies are cute as fudge but they don’t hold a candle to you, sweetheart.” “Mmn… I know. You looked very silly though, being all jealous over a doll.” “Yeh, well you ain’t any better so shut it.” …

“We should totally make our plushies have their own little wedding.”

“Sure, darlin’. Anything you want.”

[authorscurse]

Too Protective

[L.C Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] Requests are OPEN Synopsis: Having a protective younger brother is one thing but now you know where he got it.  Pairing: Luke Castellan and Poseidon's child reader Warning: Luke does not become bad, chaotic family, teeth rotting fluff, Poseidon and Percy being protective W.C: 2.5k

You knew that Percy could be a protective brother at times, you've seen it multiple times. You found it quite endearing how he's half your height but willing to jump in front of you to protect you. However, there are times you find it very annoying. You never really thought where he got it from. Not until now at least. 

Here you were, sitting in the big house with none other than you, your boyfriend Luke, your younger brother Percy, and your Godly father Poseidon. Percy and Poseidon were both sitting across you and Luke with their arms folded across their chests. Both of them were staring straight at Luke and the poor boy could only smile awkwardly. 

Okay, let's rewind that a bit to give you a little bit of context. It all started one beautiful day in Camp Half-Blood. 

"PERSEUS JACKSON!" Or maybe not..

"Why did you soak Luke with paint?" You furiously asked the younger blonde while chasing him around the whole Poseidon cabin. "It was accidental! He ran into me and Grover's trap!" Percy explained, heavily panting because you've been chasing him around the whole cabin for 10 minutes now. 

The whole cabin was an absolute mess. Bed sheets and pillows were on the floor from being thrown or used by Percy to block you from grabbing him. "Accidental? Campers heard you and Grover saying how it was meant for Luke!" You yelled stopping for a moment to breathe. Percy released a sigh of relief but knowing you long enough he did not put the protective pillow down.  "Go apologize to Luke, Percy," You instructed him sternly, running a hand through your hair to fix it. 

"No, he deserved it," Percy replied stubbornly making you glare at him. He flinches and raises the pillow to his face in fear you'd hit him. "Go, apologize to him, Percy. Now!" You ordered and pointed towards the door of the Cabin. Percy only rolled his eyes and left mumbling about how it was unfair and why should he apologize. 

After cleaning the mess you both made in the cabin you left the cabin to do your duties as a camp counselor. You spent your morning training the younger campers sword fighting and helped out the Dionysus and Demeter cabin by plucking strawberries from the bushes. 

You were busy cleaning up the arrows from archery class when suddenly two pairs of arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you. You let out a squeal and turned around to see your curly-haired boyfriend Luke. 

A wide grin plastered on his face as he placed you down and gave a kiss on your forehead. "Well hello handsome, I hope you didn't have a hard time cleaning the paint off of you," You jokingly said while playing with some of the curls on his head. He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, "Wasn't much trouble. I hope you didn't scare little Percy too much, heard from some campers you chased Percy around the whole cabin," He says tucking a loose hair behind your ear. 

"He deserved it," You say placing a kiss on his cheek and smiling at him. "If stares can kill I think I'll already be serving Hades in the underworld by now," Luke joked. You turned around to where he was looking and saw your little brother Percy glaring at Luke. Once the poor kid saw you looking at him his eyes went wide and turned away and almost tripped making you and Luke laugh. 

"I was shocked when he came up to me earlier and said sorry," He chuckled while leaning against one of the targets while you removed the arrows from it. "Told him to do so, glad he obeyed me," You said placing the arrows in their respective quivers. "He startled me, he was a bit grumpy about it but still apologized," He recalled making you laugh at your little brother's actions. 

"Little protective Percy, wonder where he got it from," You say letting out a sigh. Luke helped you pick up more arrows before you both heard some campers running and yelling. "What's happening?" Luke asked, confused to see multiple campers running towards one direction. "We should see what's wrong," You tell him. He nods in agreement and takes your hand in his before running towards the scene that seems to have caught the attention of the campers. 

You and Luke were both shocked to see about 30 campers gathered at the entrance of the camp. Both of you tried to squeeze between the chaos to get a full view of what was happening. The two of you were shocked to find out what got the attention of the campers. You both saw Chiron, Percy and...your FATHER?! 

"There's my daughter!" Poseidon says loudly and grabs your arm to pull you in a hug. You could hear campers whispering around you about how lucky you were and how shocked they were to see the literal sea god in Camp Half-Blood. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked still shocked to see your dad. He released you from the hug and it was then you only saw what he was wearing. He was wearing his Birkenstock sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, a shirt with coconuts and parrots, and a fisherman's hat on his head. "Is it wrong to visit my kids?" He asked with a wide smile.

"What about Zeus—" You try to say but get cut off by Chiron saying the three of you should talk in the big house instead. The walk to the big house was extremely awkward, to say the least. It was rare for a godly parent to visit Camp Half-Blood, let alone one of the big three gods to visit their child. You were wondering how the actual Hades did your dad get to visit you and your brother in Camp. Zeus should have blasted him by now! 

You and Percy sat across each other while your father roamed around the Big House and pointed out artefacts and paintings. "Dad, what are you doing here?" You asked gaining the attention of your father. He places the vase of flowers down and sits beside Percy. "Well—" Your father starts but you quickly cut him off "Straight to the point please, Dade," Poseidon winces at your tone and finally gives a serious answer. Who would have thought that the literal sea god winces and is somewhat afraid of his daughter? Well, dear reader, even your author is shocked. 

"Percy told me you have a boyfriend," He answers quickly. Your gaze falls on Percy and the poor kid's eyes widen like saucers and look down on his lap. "Out of all the demigods you could have chosen you chose the son of the messenger?" Poseidon asks dramatically waving his hands around. "A thief's son? Really?" Poseidon asks completely in shock. You let out a sigh and massage your temple. Your father was quite the dramatic person now and then. 

"His name's Luke Castellan," Percy says in a small voice making you glare at him. His eyes widen again and looks down in his lap immediately afraid to meet your gaze. You reminded him of a Medusa however you didn't have a snake for hair and wouldn't turn him into stone, maybe only murder him but still. 

"I want to meet this boyfriend of yours," Poseidon says. You try to convince him not to but he wouldn't hear any of your excuses. You could only sigh in defeat and look for Luke. That's how you both got to where you are now. 

"So, you're the son of Hermes, correct?" Poseidon asks still glaring at Luke. "Yes, sir, yes," He says politely. "What do you want from my daughter, son of Hermes?" Poseidon asks placing his hands on the table and leaning closer. "Power? Fame? What do you want, boy?" Luke denies all questions. "I love your daughter, sir," Luke says and laces his hand in yours from underneath the table making a small smile appear on your face. 

Poseidon and Percy lean back in their seats not entirely convinced. You glare at both of them making them clear their throats and sit straight in their seat. "How long have you liked my daughter, son of Hermes?" Poseidon asks trying not to catch your eye and turn his full attention to Luke. "His name is Luke, Dad," you say between gritted teeth. "Well, how long have you liked my daughter, Luke?" Poseidon rephrased. "Ever since she got into camp, sir, 3 years ago," Luke answers. 

"How would I be sure that you wouldn't break my daughter's heart?" Poseidon asks. Luke straightens his posture and clears his throat but never removes his hand from yours. "I can't exactly promise that I'll be the best boyfriend because I know there will be times that I won't be able to make the best decisions, do the things that would make her happy, and say the things that won't break her heart. However, what I do promise to do is that I'm willing to do my best to be the person she needs and rely on. I am aware that I'm not the best but I'm willing to do my best, for her and only her," Luke answers truthfully while squeezing your hand tightly. 

You felt tears forming in your eyes at his words. For all your life so far you've never been treated with so much care and love before until Luke came. Not even your mother wanted you and the people around you kept thinking you were out of your mind. A demigod's life is not exactly the best. When you first arrived at Camp Half-Blood you still felt out of place but Luke made you feel more comfortable around Camp. He introduced himself first as the son of Hermes and tour you around the whole Camp. He never left your side ever since then. 

Never once did he ever make you feel unloved and unwanted, unlike the people you've had in your life before. He became your rock, the person you could always lean on whenever you needed to let your guard down. Before you knew it, you were in love with your best friend. 

"I love her, sir," He says to Poseidon, but his attention and eyes aren't on the sea god. It was on you. His soft brown eyes were staring at you and only you. You felt him squeeze your hand 3 times. I love you. A smile appears on your face. No, it wasn't the forced smile you would always give to people. It was a genuine smile. The smile only Luke can make you do. 

Poseidon watches the two of you and he can't help a small smile to appear on his face. His daughter was in love and he can't help but deny he likes the guy for her. Poseidon lets out a sigh and gains the attention of both you and Luke. Luke clears his throat and opens his mouth to say more but Poseidon raises his hand to stop him. 

The god stands up making you, Percy, and Luke stand up as well. Poseidon smiles and extends his hand forward. Luke's eyes widen and takes Poseidon's hand and gives it a firm squeeze. Poseidon gently tugs Luke forward and says a few things that only he and Luke can hear. You and Percy look at each other wondering what your father might have said to Luke. 

"Keep her safe, Luke, remember what I said. I'll be seeing you kids during the summer solstice," Poseidon gives you and your brother his famous wink and becomes a form of light. The three of you look away to avoid disintegrating and when you look back your Father is gone. Only the faint smell of sea breeze remained. 

You and Luke walk out of the Big House hand in hand while Percy still has his arms crossed against his chest. "Wait up little man," You grab a hold of the the back of Percy's shirt and pull him back in front of you and Luke. Percy kept his eyes on the ground and you smile at his antics. You pull him in a hug which he quickly returns. "I love you, little idiot," You whisper in his ear. "I love you too, big idiot," He says back. 

When you both release each other from the hug Luke ruffles Percy's hair. "If Dad likes you that means I should too, but that doesn't mean you could get to eat my sister's face in front of me!" 

"I promise to make sure you're not looking next time," Luke promises making Percy nod slowly. "You go finish your chores, little idiot before Mr D whoops your ass," Percy nods and gives you a salute before running off to his chorea and annoys Annabeth. "So, your Dad knows me," Luke says wrapping his arms around your waist. 

He looks down at you with a big smile on his face. A big love-sick smile. "Mhmm, so, mind telling me what my Dad told you?" You ask him playing with his collar. "He tells me to take good care of you and make sure you don't hurt yourself." Luke's fingers lift your chin and make you look at him. It seemed as if the whole world was fading into the background and you both could only see each other. 

Luke tilts his head slightly to the side and leans in closer but suddenly thunder goes off making him tighten his lips into a thin line making you laugh. The curly-haired boy hides his face in the crook of your neck and sighs. You pull him away from your nack and make him look at you, a pout seen on his face making you giggle. 

You tilt your head slightly and connect your lips. Thunder going off in the distance but you and Luke couldn't care less about it. Both of you pull away with smiles on your faces. "He also said that if I were to break your heart he'll take me in my sleep and drown me and make sure sharks devour me," Luke says making you roll your eyes and look up. "Dad?" You ask and thunder goes off again. "I think it's only proper," Luke jokes making you roll your eyes again. 

"I hate you both," You say walking away from your boyfriend. "Hey! I was joking, angel. Come back!" Luke says walking towards you. You look back and sprint away with him hot in your trail. "Come back here, angel!" Luke shouts running after you. You could only giggle and run ever faster away from him. 

Percy, Grover, and Annabeth watch you both from a good distance, with wide smiles on their face. "I've never seen them so happy before until now," Annabeth says and Grover nods in agreement. "I think Luke's great for Y/n— don't tell them I said that," Percy confesses. "You better convince me not to, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth smirks and run away. "Hey! Annabeth come back here!" Percy yells running after Annabeth. 

"Love birds," Grover smiles watching four of his friends. 

[arcanebrained]

i'm rewatching arcane s1 and i think this is the first solo face to face fight that we see after finding out that ekko is the leader of the firelights and i'm just getting emotional because like after jinx is like omg hi the boy savior, ekko doesn't even say anything, the first thing he does when they meet is he starts swinging his watch and we're like what the fuck is going on

and so is jinx she's like what the fu- but then she gets it

he's bringing up this old game they used to play, something only he and powder would know about.

and powder does show up.

suddenly jinx is back to being powder again. she's giggly and excited, it's just her and ekko, it's just a game.

and then we see this sequence of slowed down intercuts of not just the game fight, but also a prediction of how the actual fight is going to play out

and they know how this game is going to turn out, they've played together so many times.

ekko gets shot. he loses. powder is too fast a shot for ekko to land a hit. powder wins.

and then we rewind back to the moment before their fight, and they play out the dance that they both know they're in. except this time,

there's no shot. there's this slowed moment where ekko's hovering in the air, fully open for a shot, and you're telling me that jinx the sharpshooter who's older now and is known for her speed can't land a hit?? no, she HELD HER SHOT

and gets bashed in the face by ekko a few times

and the first time i watched this scene, or in my memory of it, i interpreted this scene as being a moment where jinx is using ekko's feelings and memories of their childhood to emotionally manipulate him into not killing her/ beating her up, and i remembered that ekko fell for it and that jinx exploded them or something. but the way i remembered in my head it was like, jinx was like oh no! don't hit me i am poor baby powder! and then ekko is like omg you are poor baby powder and then jinx is like HEEHEE GOTCHA AS IF and then explodes them but now that im rewatching the show its more like

idk i'm sure this is supposed to represent like just how manipulative and awful jinx is that she would trick her childhood friend like that, but to me this is the face of someone who wishes things weren't like this. someone who's sorry that she has to do what she does next.

AND ALSO CAN I JUST SAY

THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER SO !!! TENDERLY !!!

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 10 — THE KIND OF SILENCE THAT SCREAMS.

wc — 800+

prev — masterlist — next

You didn’t even realize how loud your heart was pounding until everything else went quiet.

Jay still hadn’t said anything else. Jake’s letter was clenched in his hand now, slightly crumpled. And Sunghoon… Sunghoon hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even blinked, it seemed.Lia stood beside you, nervously sipping her iced latte like this wasn’t a total social implosion happening in real time.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, stumbling toward a nearby bench. Your knees felt like they might give out if you didn’t.

“Y/N,” Jay said again, softer this time. “You really didn’t send them?” You looked up at him, incredulous. “Do you seriously think I’d do this on purpose?” “I don’t know what to think,” he replied. “You’re telling me these letters just magically showed up in our mailboxes? That’s a little hard to believe.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, visibly overwhelmed. “Okay, okay, let’s just… not jump to conclusions. Maybe, maybe someone found them?” You turned toward him quickly. “They were in a box. In my room. Under my bed. I haven’t touched them in years, Jake.”

Lia’s sip suddenly sounded a little too loud. Sunghoon still hadn’t said anything.

You hated it.

You hated how his silence said more than any of their questions. You hated the unreadable look in his eyes, like he was trying to put together some puzzle you weren’t even aware of. You hated how it made you feel, exposed, foolish, like a confession you didn’t mean to make was now plastered all over campus.

Jay paced a little, letter still in hand. “So if you didn’t send them… who did?” “I don’t know!” you snapped, louder than intended. People walking by were starting to glance your way, but you didn’t care.

Jake looked like he was trying to process ten things at once. “It’s just… these weren’t casual letters, Y/N. You literally called me your first real heartbreak.” You winced. “I wrote that when I was sixteen.” “Still kind of a bomb to drop at nine in the morning,” he said with an uneasy laugh, but there was no malice in his tone.

Jay turned to you again. “You said you liked the way I smiled when I read, what was it, ‘nerdy sci-fi books no one else understands’?”

You buried your face in your hands. “Please stop quoting it.” “I’m just saying,” Jay said, sitting beside you now. “These weren’t… small things. I didn’t even know you felt that way back then.” “I didn’t want you to know. That’s the whole point.”

And then finally, finally, Sunghoon spoke.

“Mine was different,” he said quietly. Everyone turned to him. Your stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” Jay asked.

Sunghoon’s gaze was fixed on you. “The way she wrote about me wasn’t the same. It wasn’t just some teenage crush.”

You could feel everyone’s eyes shift toward you again. Lia stiffened beside you.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, clearly confused. Sunghoon hesitated for a second before answering. “She said I ruined love for her.”

Your breath caught. There it was. The most vulnerable thing you’d ever written. Laid bare. Jake and Jay looked stunned. Even Lia couldn’t hide her reaction.

“I didn’t mean for you to ever read that,” you said quietly, throat tight. “That wasn’t supposed to be for anyone but me.” Sunghoon nodded once. But the weight in his expression didn’t lift. “So… was it true?” he asked, eyes unreadable. “Do you still feel that way?”

You swallowed hard. “Does it matter?” “Of course it does.”

You glanced down at your lap. Your fingers were clenched so tightly that your knuckles had gone pale. You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to fix this mess, because there was nothing to fix—it was all out now. There was no rewinding time. No taking anything back.

You didn’t even know what was worse—Jay’s confused sincerity, Jake’s lingering softness, or Sunghoon’s quiet storm.

Lia suddenly stood. “I think we should go.” You blinked at her. “What?” “You look like you’re going to pass out. And people are staring.”

You looked around. She wasn’t wrong. “I’ll walk you back,” she added quickly. But before you could get up, Jay spoke again.

“I just want to know one thing,” he said. “If the letters hadn’t gotten out… would you have ever told us?” You looked at him for a long time. And then shook your head. “No,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

Silence again.

And then Jay let out a breath, standing too. “Okay. I get it.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that. But something in his voice felt final. Jake nodded awkwardly, muttering something about seeing you later. Sunghoon didn’t say anything at all.

The three of them walked away, each in a different direction. And just like that, the aftermath of your letters was real. Not just some hypothetical disaster anymore.

They’d read your words.

They’d seen your heart.

And now, everything was falling apart.

[asexualandalwaysshipping]

If you dislike Eulogy solely because you thought Paul Giamatti’s character treated Carol terribly then you missed the point. Did he treat her unfairly? Of course. And the entire episode centers around him coming to terms with that.

Have you ever had a relationship that ended and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out how it all crashed and burned? You rewind the memories over and over in your head again and it doesn’t add up. You two loved each other, wanted to build a life together, so where did it all go wrong? And the longer you go without an answer the angrier you get. Because if you don’t see where it went wrong then the problem couldn’t possibly lie with you. So you start blaming everything on the other person. The memories you shared together don’t feel so happy now because even just thinking about them gets you furious. It’s all their fault you couldn’t work out. You did nothing but love them.

And then, maybe years later, you’ve grown and you’ve changed, and now you’ve started to see things in a different light. Were they really the person you thought they were? Was there something you missed? Were they the ones who stopped trying first or you? And you begin to question everything. But it’s been so long and you gotten so accustomed to putting the blame on them that it seems pointless to ponder on it any longer. It’s all in the past anyways.

But you start opening up to someone about the events that unfolded and they keep pointing out holes in your story. The inconsistencies. Something seems amiss. And as you go on, you also seem to question yourself. Suddenly it doesn’t seem like a matter of how well you remember but how much you forgot. After so much time, it’s hard to be able to confront your own contribution to things turned out. You want to deny it but it’s true. There was more that you could’ve done. Reach out. Listen. But what can you do now? It’s too late. But however painful it feels, you also feel relieved in a way. Because after so long you finally got your answers.

The story never tries to justify his actions or put him in a better light while villainizing Carol. It was giving him the closure he never realized he needed.

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - A few more recs...

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

Before the year ends, here are a few more recs of stories of 2024 that found their way into our inbox! I wish you all a Happy New Year and hope, that we can discover lots of fun fanfics next year as well! - Kay

Follower Recs

~*~

Think I've missed the 2024 Rewind follower recs but I've been absolutely loving this story!

WIP Modern Cultivators AU where WWX and LWJ have just agreed to a betrothal contract - for supposedly purely political reasons but in actuality because they fell hard and fast for each other during the prior fic in the series. POV switches between the two of them as they face up to (and increasingly embrace) the concept of being cared for and loved for being exactly who they are. Beautiful writing and brilliant characterisation, every update feels like a treat ☺️ @slothwithwifi

🔒 I'm Much Older Than I Thought I'd Be

by MajorEnglishEsquire (@chuckwinchester)

E, WIP, 81k, Wangxian

Summary: “Now. Before we break for the evening, as the topic has arisen between Lan Xichen and myself, directly, in accordance with an inquiry from the Lans,” Uncle passes him the copy of a draft agreement. “I wonder if you recall your lessons on the cross-clan arrangement of cultivation partnerships.” Picks up after The Further I Go, The Less I Know.

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Hello! I want to submit this fic for Rewind because I love cherry magic AU and lwj pov is so rare. It’s very funny to listen to wwx pining in his head and lwj panicking over it. - Anon

My Heart is Yours to Fill or Burst

by anancites (@ananc1tes)

E, 67k, Wangxian

Summary: On his 30th birthday, Lan Zhan gets struck by a mysterious curse: suddenly he's a mind reader! As much as he dislikes most people talking too much, hearing their unfiltered thoughts is even worse. To top it all off, he learns that his old friend Wei Ying might not be flirting with him just to be a nuisance. He might be flirting with Lan Zhan because he's actually really into him? (a WangXian AU very loosely inspired by Cherry Magic)

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Delightfully hilarious. I read it over a month ago and still laugh sometimes when I think about wwx in this. @alyseofwonderland

Living Art

by relenafanel (@relenafanel)

E, 8k, Wangxian

Summary: Broke artist Wei Wuxian takes a hard look at his finances and shrugs his way into becoming a content creator on OnlyFans. Jiang Cheng sighed. “These columns are negotiable. If you want to keep this subscription, you have to replace something to break even.” Wei Wuxian stared at the spreadsheet. He hummed in thought. “I need to break even.” “Yes.” “In order to keep my OnlyFans subscription I need $65 a month. On OnlyFans.” “No,” Jiang Cheng said quickly. “If I become a content creator and earn $65 a month--” “I am begging you--” “Then I can keep the subscription. Thanks A-Cheng!” The account in question? Hanguang Jun's Reading Livestreams.

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🔒 Only with Time

by adrian_kres (@Bichen-Suibian)

E, WIP, 66k, Wangxian

Summary: Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were arranged to be married as is tradition. Throughout their thirteen-year-long "courtship," things were not always as they seemed. Now, newly married, old secrets have ripped open wounds they thought were closed, and they must work together to rebuild a trust they never had and a love they always did but couldn't see. Told from alternating points of view between LWJ and WWX with frequent flashbacks to memories of their "courtship". Updates weekly.

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Proud Author Spotlight

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I can't believe I almost forgot to shout-out my own fic that I started this year! It's a modern AU with cultivation where Wei Wuxian loses his hand, gets taken in my Wen Qing and her family, starts a prosthetic start-up and schemes to take down Wen Ruohan from the shadows feat. Wen Yuan having a big sister, Wen Zhuliu redemption and all the Found Family vibes!

Black Sun

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

E, WIP, 51k, Wangxian

Summary: Within one afternoon, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan became a mere branch of the Wen Clan. They lost their estate, all of their assets, and Wei Wuxian – He lost an arm. All to appease Wen Ruohan. To the Jiangs, the name Wen became a curse to be hissed out between gritted teeth. To Wei Wuxian, the name Wen became something dear after Wen Ning and Wen Qing saved his life and took him in. Years later, Wen Ruohan and his sons have long since died under mysterious circumstances and Wei Wuxian has been branded a traitor to the high society of the cultivation world. Together with the remaining Wens, he turned to the civilian world and revolutionized the medical field by developing prosthetics controlled by spiritual energy. Enter: Lan Wangji. After their fight against the Tulu Xuanwu, his leg never really recovered. Years of countless surgeries and feeling as if he was living inside a gilded cage while being patronized by his family passed, until Lan Wangji finally took his chance and absconded. To Yiling.

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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[markantonys]

My Mom Reacts To: wheel of time season 3 episodes 5-8 (no book spoilers)

season 1 (book spoilers)

season 2 episodes 1-4 (no book spoilers)

season 2 episodes 5-8 (book spoilers)

season 3 episodes 1-4 (no book spoilers)

3x05

since i'd already watched the episodes on our account back when they came out, the player attempted to pick up where i'd left off and opened this up at the very end of the episode and so my mom saw a few seconds of the egwene-lanfear-rand cliffhanger scene as i was frantically trying to pause and rewind, so she knew that was coming haha but even at this initial glimpse she wasn't shocked or anything, perhaps because while it was loading she was reading out the episode summary about "egwene learns rand's dark secret" and asked "what's rand's dark secret?" and i said "guess" and she said "lanfear" and i said "yes. oh, maybe i shouldn't have told you that."

as soon as they showed cold rocks hold, she started wondering about how the aiel survive with so little water and seemingly no place to grow food. once again, a woman after robert jordan's own heart! she wants to know all the little anthropological details!

she went "oh! he has different wives?" but that was her only comment on the aiel polyamory loredrop

elaida: i know what you are. river trash. mom: TUH!

"i feel like egwene suffers so much" -mom seemingly apropos of nothing (egwene was just sitting in the temple talking to the wise ones), but maybe thinking of the spoiled end of the episode lmao

she finds all the dream lore stuff very confusing. i do too! thankfully, she only asked me basic-level questions that i knew how to answer.

my dad loved elaida's dramatic hand-flick shooing motion when she was sending the novice away from adeleas haha

mat: [runs out of the ship cabin after being repeatedly told not to, while elayne yells at him to stop] mom: mat is always doing the wrong thing. every episode, someone is saying "mat, don't do that!"

Mat Cauthon: A Summary

"that doesn't really look like him" critiquing min's art skills

multiple mentions throughout theses episodes about how concerned she is by the prospect of these four young people haring off on a dangerous mission all by themselves. she would definitely be the kind of person to go "but where are their parents??" when reading a YA fantasy book.

min: no eye contact mat: [stares at the hanged man] mom: no eye contact, mat!!!!! me: it's a corpse mom: oh

when whitecloaks appear onscreen: "i don't like these people"

mom: so elaida's not black ajah me: no mom: then why is she siuan's enemy? me: she can be her enemy without being a darkfriend mom: [sighs] i guess that's true

once again she is distressed by how many different factions of Bad Guys there are

the cauthon girls: perrin what's happened to your eyes? mom: i don't think that would be the first thing i'd notice right now me: you wouldn't notice if someone you used to know suddenly had bright golden eyes??? mom: well, it's dark in here

perrin: i thought you were a good man dain: I WAS!!!!! dad: [chuckles] that's a good answer

rand: [gives his earnest speech about how he believes lanfear can be a good person again] mom: [sadly] oh rand, you have rose-colored glasses

so! she doesn't seem to blame rand about the whole randfear situation (perhaps because seeing the ending kiss scene first helped prepare her, perhaps because all my rand sympathy seed-planting in the first half of the season was successful, perhaps because the "this naive young man is getting preyed on" angle comes across more clearly to the middle-aged mom demographic than it does to some other demographics who dismiss it as cut-and-dry rand-fault cheating. who can say?)

and at various points in the episode she asked "what does lanfear want, just to rule everything?" and "does she actually love him or is she just saying that?" so i don't think she has ever been taken in by lanfear's tricks for one second even though many viewers did feel swayed by her "i want to break my dark oaths" schtick haha my mom never has any time for the forsaken's sob stories, like when she went "so kill yourself then" while ishy was delivering his sadboy nihilism monologue. WOT if my mom was a ta'veren: 1 book

mom as egwene is preparing to give moiraine a ride to a meeting: how are they traveling around to these places? me: they're going there in a dream dad: which is the only way anyone seems to travel anywhere in this show

mom while moiraine and siuan are kissing: .........is egwene still watching all this?

during the montage of all the friends' dreams she asked if this was halfway through the season because "it feels like they're giving us a recap" (but i reminded her that last episode was the halfway point)

speaking of last episode, before we started this one she said that she liked that episode because it was only about one plotline so it was easier to keep track of what was going on

3x06

"i vaguely remember him" about thom

mom during the weird moggy montage: what is she doing???? me: she's just really weird idk

when egwene pushed the wise ones out of her dream my mom gasped and thought egwene had destroyed them

rand: do i kill egwene? mom: [gasp] is that prophesized???? me: no he's just worried it might happen when he goes mad dad: it can't be prophesized if she [moiraine] keeps saying things will happen "sometimes"

(it felt dishonest to transcribe that sentence more efficiently as my dad saying "moiraine" himself, because i need you to know he does not know a single name of any character in this show)

faile talking about her backstory: she killed him mom: her own son???? faile: her own son mom: oh, i guess if i'd just waited a second

mom: does elayne stay good forever? me, incapable of shrugging mysteriously and letting her think elayne might become evil: yes she does mom: oh good. it's hard to get invested in characters when i'm always afraid they'll turn out to be evil.

mom after the hills of tanchico: i thought they were trying to be subtle

she liked "i don't mind strange" and faile's reaction to finding out mat blew the horn, but was feeling wary about her. "i don't know if this is a good thing or not" when faile and perrin kissed, then in the next episode she asked 1) is faile secretly evil? and 2) will perrin kill her by accident like he did his wife? and i told her no on both counts, sometimes i've just got to spoil her for the sake of soothing her worries haha

even after the kiss she referred to faile as "perrin's new friend". diversity win: straight couple gets "and they were roommates" treatment

after all my wondering, she ended up having absolutely zero reaction to or comment on the randgwene breakup! oh well, i don't think she minds it or blames rand too much at least, or else she would've said Something, and she definitely seemed fond of both rand and egwene throughout the season, so maybe it came through fairly successfully as a balanced No Bad Guys breakup for her.

3x07

she was so happy to see the s1 tuatha'an again!

perrin: it may be the season of falling leaves, but when people see how bare the trees are, they'll long for spring mom: [chuckles] when did he get so wise?

someone mentioned lord luc and she went "who????" lmaoooo he really was such a "go girl give us nothing" character this season

i've had to go "that's the son of the guy whose dad perrin killed" just about every time for dain's first scene per episode, she never remembers who he is

she also asked "who's that?" about egwene's mom no joke at least 5-6 times during this episode

in loial's first scene this episode she was like "i want him to have more to do, he's one of my favorites" and i was internally thinking "well, she's about to get her wish............."

ila: there is no leaf without the seed dad: they have a lot of weird sayings in this show

"since they have two rivers nearby, why don't they just dig a moat around the village to keep the trollocs from entering?" perrin come hire my mom as your new strategist

dad about alanna taking out a huge chunk of the army with her hailstorm: "that feels like cheating somehow"

my mom was very sad about loial! but she figured it was coming because "angels started singing" right before his final moments.

me: he doesn't die in the books, but in a show you can't keep as many characters around forever, so that's why they killed him off here mom: but they don't understand that he's my favorite character

then i said "what about lan?" and she said "he's a different kind of favorite character" haha and she went on to say that she liked loial for his comic relief and also because he was a scholar who showed the importance of books and stories in a world full of warriors and battles. RIP loial!

she does not believe for one second that padan fain will keep his promise to perrin and thinks he'll be coming right back to attack again sooner or later

mom taking stock of the battle results: so, Worst Whitecloak is dead and Peddler escaped and is still alive

3x08

mom about the amyrlin election: it's like the conclave for the new pope

leane to siuan: you haven't once told me how you know this mom: i guess she can't exactly say "somebody told me in a dream" can she?

when sammael says lews therin gave him his scar: "lews therin is something to do with rand right?" oh mom

moggy to liandrin: mistress has been very busy mom: she sounds like gollum

mat and nynaeve: [put on their veils to follow liandrin] dad: [scoffs] THOSE are their disguises?

mom about lanfear's little wedding dress number for her meeting with rand: she always has the best costumes

moiraine: we leave for alcair dal mom: where? me: just some other location don't worry about it

mat: [making for the doorway] min: mat wait! mom: he never LISTENS! he's so ANNOYING!

but then him yelling at the eelfinn about being sick of every magical force on the planet got a hearty chuckle, so it's not all losses for mat in her esteem haha

she was worried about thom dying because she "likes his voice"

mom about min's CPR: i can't believe that worked

she was upset with nynaeve for not hiding or disguising herself while waiting for the others, solidarity with @butterflydm haha

dad when nynaeve parts the sea: too bad no one else is around to see how cool this is mom: too bad liandrin isn't around to see that she needs to try harder!

she said fondly "he's gotten so smart" about rand at some point during his convo with moiraine

mom when lanfear shows up in her Ultra Goth Supreme getup: who's that? me: lanfear mom: oh. she looks different every scene!

my dad likened the Dueling Car'a'carn Presentation to a gameshow lmao

mom had a moment of panic thinking lan might die, so i had to blurt out that he was not going to die

mom: he made it rain in the desert? the other guy's gonna have a hard time topping that!

she's getting very concerned about rand doing big channelings since it will bring him closer and closer to madness every time he does. the show's done a good job emphasizing those stakes for viewers!

after it was over she said "so many good guys died this season! i'm so upset!" in the same sentence as asking hopefully if there would be an s4 haha

later that evening: "i really hope they do more seasons, because i'm not reading all those books". i hope so too!

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 5

If you watched this on iQIYI you missed a few scenes! A couple of which I think were actually important. Gaga has the full cut.

The show did a nice little montage summarizing the core theory (that is clearly correct): Great is in the midst of a NDE and is experiencing a mix of things during the 4 minute window: memories, perceptions, rewinds and do-overs, and a new start with Tyme who he purportedly had a relationship with in the original timeline.

Also as theorized, the NDE seems to have begun at 11:00, so Great has until 11:04 in this limbo space. We saw the clock advance to 11:03 in today's episode.

We still know very little about the original timeline, including how Great and Tyme got involved the first time around and what happened with their relationship there that might inspire the desire for a fresh start.

Re: the cold opens with Tonkla and the murders, I do not think we're being shown those events in chronological order given Title was still alive in today's open.

Speaking of, only a brief appearance in the open from Tonkla before he sat the rest of this episode out. Interesting after several weeks of him dominating the story.

I am still trying to make sense of the way this romance is advancing in the redo timeline, and it only works if both Great and Tyme are in this 4 minutes limbo together and coming with pre-existing knowledge of and inclination to trust each other. Otherwise, their instant closeness and partnership in this situation with Great's family really doesn't make sense. Why would Tyme tell Great everything and trust him to handle his family after just meeting him and having sex one time? That goes beyond straining credibility unless he is also reliving things.

The smartest thing Tyme could have done was to take that bribe money and run. If he wanted to be decent, he'd have given Nan a cut and helped her run, too. But he seems preoccupied with Great in a way that doesn't really track unless he also knows him already.

Speaking of Nan, that poor woman has been through it. I was yelling at Tyme when he told her nothing and expected her to just accept that he was not going to take action. As fucking if, dude.

The rewind/do over in this episode felt different than the others. When Great went back, he didn't actually relive the same scene, he and the shooter were just suddenly in different positions. And all he accomplished was getting himself shot along with his mom.

I liked the way the lady from the initial accident came back around this episode to cause that, BUT it also just opens up more questions about the timelines because if she died in the original timeline, she would not have been able to set up a hit on Great's family. So, did saving her cause new bad shit? Did Great's mom also die in the original timeline, but differently? And will anything that happens in the redo actually stick?

We saw in this episode that when Korn is actually in trouble he goes to Fasai, not Tonkla. I get the sense that he has been with Fasai for years and likely the entire time he's been messing around with Tonkla; I was not surprised that she's always known. They are not a love match but they need things from each other. He never intended to be with Tonkla for real.

By the way, I was dying at Korn's little motivational speech to Great. He has to help his father do evil shit so their family can "survive." Survive what? Not being filthy rich, I guess. Great's mom was similarly desperate to cling to the status and wealth she clawed and scraped for. Nobody in this family has any true morality.

And yet I find it weird that they are letting Great run around causing a ruckus and not putting a stop to it or even punishing him. He is remarkably spoiled and pampered compared to Korn. Is this their dad's feelings about his two wives being acted out on his sons? If so, why does Great hate his dad so much?

LET'S TALK ABOUT THE FINAL SCENE. As Tyme was running through the tunnel, lights flickering around him, there were bruises appearing and then disappearing on his face. Are we seeing his NDE??

This show is still so much fun to watch and think about even if I am scratching my head at some of what happens.