#and he’s going to have to work on himself until he is ready

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 2

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, mild stalking, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, a little dirty talk (if you squint), dark romance, sick!reader, mild supernatural body horror (bond sickness), demons, comfort and control.

Author's notes: Thank you guys so much for all your comments, reposts, and likes! I'm definitely motivated to continue this story and have some plans in mind for the future chapters. 🥰

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 2:

Tethered in Silence

You wake up every morning feeling… better. But it doesn’t make sense. Because during the day, you feel sick. Nauseous. Lightheaded.

Your skin prickles like you’re wearing clothes that don’t belong to you. Sometimes you forget where you are mid-thought. Your body feels too heavy for this life.

But at night?

You sleep deeply. Without nightmares. Without fear.

It started the day you ran from them.

And you don’t understand it. You’ve done nothing different. No medicine works during the day. But when the sun sets… Your body calms. Your breathing evens out. You feel—safe.

You tell yourself it’s just exhaustion. You don’t know that each night, one of them watches over you.

Sometimes it’s Mystery, curled up outside your window, nose pressed to the glass like a loyal animal waiting to be let inside. He never scratches. Just listens for your breathing to steady—then smiles softly in the dark.

Sometimes it’s Romance, leaving rose petals beneath your balcony, humming one of the songs he swore he wrote just for you. The same one you’ve caught yourself humming without realizing.

Sometimes it’s Jinu—who, when your fever spikes, slips silently into your room just to stand near you until the bond calms. He never moves. Never speaks. Just watches you with reverence and restraint, fists clenched tight to keep himself from reaching for you.

And sometimes—only sometimes—it’s Baby. Not close. Just nearby. Leaning against the wall across the street. Eyes glowing faintly under his hood. Unmoving.

Watching.

They never touch you. Only witness. Only ache.

Your light. Their everything.

They hate to feel your suffering during the day—a consequence of the bond forming without proximity. But they hope that this pain you carry is what drives you toward them.

Because every night, you sleep because they’re there. And you don’t even know it.

You wake up on a Wednesday, feeling well rested—though you know that won’t last long. It never does. You sit on your counter, chewing breakfast slowly, staring off at nothing. Your eyes drift to the shelf.

Romance’s book.

It’s been sitting there for days. Untouched. Daring.

You don’t want to admit you’re curious. But your hand moves anyway. “How did he even know I wanted to read this?” You mutter around a mouthful of bread.

You waddle to the couch and crack it open. Your heart’s not ready, but you flip through the pages. And then—

You freeze.

A passage, underlined in neat black ink:

“Love that spans lifetimes is never gentle. It devours slowly.”

Your breath catches.

The creeping feeling in your chest tightens. Longing. Yearning. You don’t even know for what.

Nope.

You slam the book shut.

Not today.

You work overtime at the café the next few days, thinking you’ll outrun whatever this is. But the nights remain the same. Each one of them leaves something. A new sketchbook on your doorstep, the paper thick and expensive, with a note from Mystery:

“For when you draw us again.”

You haven’t seen him. But your heart races every time you hear footsteps outside. You swear you hear purring through the window once, but shake it off.

The day after, you come home late, too tired to even stand. You drop your bag. Your stomach growls. But your apartment smells like miso and spice. Your favorite ramen sits warm on the stove. No signs of forced entry. No windows broken. Your locks were fine. You tell yourself you must’ve made it before and forgot. You try not to look at the empty bowl already set out for you.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

Groceries show up on your doorstep. Snacks you forgot you liked. Drinks you told no one about. Sometimes a sticky note:

“Don’t skip meals, brat.” (You know it’s from Abby. You roll your eyes… and smile.)

They don’t push. But they never leave.

Letters. Tickets. Handwritten invitations. Concerts. Fanmeets. Award shows. You never go. But you read them all.

The private session ticket with your name in looping calligraphy stays on your desk. You’ve moved it twelve times. You’ve never thrown it away.

Then, on Friday of the next week, comes a final envelope.

No ticket.

No flower.

Just a single sheet of paper, torn at the edges. The ink slightly smudged like someone had been holding it for too long before sealing it. You unfold it slowly.

‘You don’t have to believe us.Just let us prove it.’—J

You sit back on your couch. Everything aches. You’re tired. Dizzy. Burning with fever in the afternoon, freezing by night. It’s getting harder to deny what’s happening. You keep telling yourself it’s a prank. A stunt. A delusion.

They’re famous. Rich. Beautiful. They have no reason to want you.

You met them once.

But the bond doesn’t care about logic. The bond wants what it wants. And as you stare at that letter in your trembling hands… You start to wonder if maybe—just maybe— you want them too.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

By Sunday, you’re fed up from feeling so sick and decide to go and buy new medicines. You’re pale. Shivering. Oblivious to the way demons on the street stop in their tracks when they see you.

One begins to follow you.

From the shadows, Rumi, Zoey, and Mira spot it.

“Target marked,” Zoey whispers.

“No incident,” Rumi replies. “Quiet takedown.”

They move in—silent, lethal. Weapons at the ready.

But then the demon sees your face.

It freezes.

Eyes wide. It backs away, trembling, then flees like it’s seen a god. You never notice. You’re inside buying Tylenol.

The girls stare after you.

“What the hell?” Rumi questions, watching as the other demons in the area back off and run somewhere else.

“That’s… not normal,” Mira mutters.

“Is it her?” Zoey questions, watching your sick form drop a vitamin jelly and curse pathetically. Pity erupts in her chest. “She seems pretty normal to me…”

“Something’s off.” Rumi states, analyzing you. You seemed like a very normal person. No markings whatsoever. Why did they flee? “Maybe we should look into it a bit more..?”

“We can run a background check.” Mira suggests. “Though it’ll just be for precaution. We shouldn’t- ZOEY?”

The rapper of the group was slowly walking towards you with the intent of engaging in conversation. 

The fluorescent lights above hum louder than usual.

Your head is pounding. Your limbs feel like lead. Every movement takes just a little more effort than it should.

You shuffle toward the over-the-counter shelf, fingers grazing through boxes of headache meds and nausea tablets. You’ve been here too many times this week.

“You okay? You look like the flu’s winning.”

The voice is light, teasing, warm.

You glance sideways and nearly drop your medicines again. Cool. Effortlessly pretty. The kind of girl who belongs on your feed—not in front of you, talking like you’re friends.

You know her face. You’ve seen her before. Not in person. But in clips. In edits. She’s Zoey—one of the girls from Huntrix.

“Sorry,” she says, flashing an easy grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You looked like I did last week when I thought I had the plague but it was just anxiety and kombucha withdrawals.”

You nod stiffly. Your throat is dry. “Yeah. I’ve just… been off…sorry, you’re Zoey, right? As in from Huntrix?”

She giggles nervously. “Yeah, I just need to grab a few things too.” She steps closer to the shelves. Casually, like she’s just browsing. “Cold stuff’s over there, but if it’s more like… migraines or vertigo? These work way faster.” She taps a pack of fast-acting tablets and hands them to you.

You take them without thinking, a little starstruck. “Thanks.”

She studies you—not overtly. But it’s there. Her eyes linger too long on your face. “No problem! I hope you feel better! Uh... I, sorry I didn’t get your name-”

“Y/N” you nodded with a nervous smile. 

“Great to meet you, Y/N! Maybe when you feel better we could hang out sometime. Get your instagram?”

You stammered, mouth gaping then closing. What was with all these pop stars approaching you as of late? “Uh, yeah, sure…” You said blinking. You were too sick for this. Why did you have to meet one of the most famous people in the country now when you looked this shitty? And she wanted your instagram? Is this real life?

You told her your instagram handle and she smiled. “Awesome! Well, I hope you feel better.” she started to walk away and you raised an eyebrow. “Uh… weren’t you supposed to get something?” 

Zoey turned red and laughed nervously. “Oh- right! Silly me. My memory is so bad. Thanks for reminding me!” 

You nodded, still a bit shocked at this whole encounter and went to pay for your medicine. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The next day, You see a clip on TikTok. It was the Saja Boys at a fanmeet. Laughing with the Huntrix girls, though the girls seemed less enthusiastic. You scroll through more of your feed and stop when you see an image.

It was Jinu and Rumi playing footsies.

You feel a pang in your heart and scroll on.

Zoey playfully hitting Mystery and his little pout after that.

Romance and Abby fanart with Mira.

"Miromabby is real!"

"Zoestery supremacy."

"Rujinu playing footsies? They’re the cutest!"

Your stomach drops.

You turn your phone off. Then on. Then off again.

“They’re not mine,” you whisper to convince yourself. “They were never mine.” You feel yourself getting weaker. A sinking feeling in your gut. It’s unexplainable. You were the one avoiding all of the boys and their madness. Why would something like this upset you? You were the one rejecting their invites.

And then something just breaks.

The next weekend, your coworkers drag you out. They mean well. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and so when one of the girls invited you to come out with them after work on a Saturday, you accept. 

They take you to a club. Loud music. Glittering lights. Free drinks. You tell yourself you deserve it.

But deep down, you feel wrong. Like you’re doing something unforgivable.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys are in their studio, practicing choreo for an upcoming show when Mystery jolts upright mid-step. His head whips toward the door. His pupils dilate. And then—

He growls. Low. Deep. Animal.

They freeze.

Romance is the first to stop moving, lips parting as he slowly lowers his mic. Abby drops into a ready stance like he’s about to charge into something. “What? What is it? What is she feeling now?”

He’s been on edge for days. Every time Mystery whimpers about your nausea or fever, he paces like a caged beast. Every time your scent spikes with sadness, he throws something across the room. It’s taken both Jinu and Baby to restrain him—twice this week alone. Once when Mystery said you slipped in the shower. Another when your heart rate flatlined in fear while walking home alone. He hasn’t stopped shaking since.

“Tell me,” Abby grits. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mystery’s hands twitch. “She’s not alone.”

Romance is already unlocking his phone, screen flipping up to your page—he checks it a hundred times a day. Sometimes a thousand. He breathes in sharply.

“She posted. Or—no, someone tagged her.”

A nightclub. Low lighting. Your smile—nervous. Shy. And then—other men.

Hands brushing your waist. A stranger whispering in your ear. Your head tilting back in a laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

The phone screen burns in Romance’s hand. His smirk dies. “Is that her?” he asks. But he already knows the answer.

Abby doesn’t bother replying. He rips the phone from Romance’s grip and snarls, muscles tensing beneath his shirt as he glares at the video. “Who the fuck are those guys?” he growls, loud enough to shake the chandelier above. “Why is he touching her? Why is she letting—”

A teacup shatters.

Baby hadn’t moved. But his hand had clenched just enough to crush the porcelain in his grip. He stands at the edge of the room, statue-still. His pupils blown wide, pitch black. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. His breathing is slow—too slow—as he watches the clip loop.

He’s memorizing the men’s faces. So he knows who to kill first.

Mystery lets out a sound—not human. It rips from his throat like a guttural whine and a growl, high-pitched and wet. His claws are out, twitching. 

“She’s letting strangers touch her,” Baby says softly. But it’s not soft. It’s dangerous.

Romance’s voice is velvet-wrapped venom. He’s smiling again, but the smile is hollow—like a cracked mask. “She’s trying to forget us,” he murmurs. “Trying to pretend she doesn’t belong to us.” His voice dips. “It won’t work.”

There’s a snap. A shift. Something ancient uncoils in the room. The temperature drops. Power hums in the air like static before a storm.

And then—they move. No plan. No hesitation. No words. Just instinct. Baby’s already calling Jinu. The leader’s in a meeting—still gathering intelligence on Rumi, on the Hunters, on the fragile balance between war and reunion.

The phone rings once. “Yes?” Jinu’s voice is curt, sharp with authority.

“She’s at the club,” Baby says calmly.

Jinu doesn’t respond at first. There’s the sound of footsteps. A tiger’s whine. Then Baby adds, like a bullet to the heart:

“Men are touching her.”

The phone crackles. Not with sound, but with energy. Dark, feral, electric. Baby can feel the shift through the line. Something old stirs. Something broken. Then—

Jinu’s voice returns. But it’s not Jinu.

It’s the voice of the thing that crawled to Gwi Ma 400 years ago, begging to bring you back. It’s older. Colder. Hungrier.

“Where is she?”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're tipsy. Laughing. Warm. The club pulses like a heartbeat beneath your skin—bass thudding through your ribs, lights smearing color over your vision. You haven’t felt this loose in ages. Not since university. Not since before the dreams started. Before the headaches. Before the boys.

Your coworkers sway around you, drunk and shouting. One of them pours you another shot. You take it. You let it burn. It’s easier to blame the sick feeling in your chest on the alcohol now. Easier than admitting that you’ve been haunted.

You don’t notice the guy your friends brought getting too close. Not at first. He presses against your back under the excuse of helping you keep balance. His hand slides to your waist. You laugh it off. You don’t want to make a scene.

Another drink. Another dizzy smile. Another moment where you forget who you are. “Come on,” he says, too close to your ear. “Let me walk you home.”

You nod. You shouldn’t have.

He throws his jacket over your shoulders like it’s a favor. Wraps an arm around you. Guides you through the club’s glowing mouth into the alley beside it.

The world tilts sideways. Your pulse buzzes against your skull. And then—you round the corner.

And they're there.

Five shadows cut from the dark like carved obsidian. They don’t speak. They don’t have to. Your breath hitches in your throat. The bond snaps into place like a noose and for the first time all night—you can breathe. The ache behind your eyes disappears. Your limbs go steady. Your nausea evaporates. And even in your drunken haze, you know it’s because of them.

The boys who haunt your dreams. The demons who ruin your peace. The monsters who feel like home.

Abby moves first. He doesn’t speak to you. His full, furious attention is on the man still touching you. “Touch her again,” Abby growls, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll shatter every bone in your body.”

Romance steps into view, golden eyes gleaming like firelight. He tsks, slow and mocking. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs, eyes trailing down your body like he’s savoring the view of you in your dress. “Out here, letting strangers paw at what isn’t theirs.”

His gaze lingers on your thighs. The hem of your dress. Your dazed expression. You see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “She forgot us,” he says with a small, cruel smile. “So she let herself be touched.”

Romance leans in with a sickly sweet smile aimed at the guy by your side. “She’s not yours to protect,” he whispers. “So if you would so kindly… fuck off.”

The guy squares his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think—” His voice dies the moment his eyes land on the figure behind them all.

Baby.

Still. Silent. Watching. His pupils are blown wide, pitch black. Shadows crawl up his arms like smoke.

The guy’s bravado crumples. “Hey, hey—I didn’t know she was spoken for…” He stumbles back. Your balance wavers. 

Mystery darts forward, catching you in his arms like you were made to fit there. He buries his nose in your neck with a shaky inhale. Like it's the only thing in the entire world that could calm him down. You don’t push him away.

“Y/N? You know these guys?” your friend calls weakly.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. Your voice is slurred, but you don’t miss how Romance is staring—burning holes through your clothes. Your spine prickles. He rakes his eyes over you slowly, like memorizing every inch. You remember the way he said you belonged to him. And for a second, you want to.

Abby moves closer again, jaw tense. His eyes flick from your dazed expression to the guy who dared to touch you earlier. He sees red.

“Take care of him,” Baby says, the words barely audible—but they’re a death sentence. Abby cracks his knuckles.

“With pleasure.”

“Don’t look, baby,” Mystery whispers into your ear. You shiver. His voice is soft, but it carries heat. Danger. Something low coils in your stomach, and lower still. His hands tighten around your waist and you melt. You don’t even notice the scream behind you.

“You came,” you slur, eyes glossy. “I… feel better now…”

“Is that so, princess?” Romance frowns, stepping closer. He tilts your chin with two fingers. The bond flares. A moan slips from his throat before he can stop it. His eyes fall lower—to the swell of your chest in that too-short dress.

“Did you wear this for them?” He asks through gritted teeth. “For all those men to see you like this?”

His jaw tenses. His hands twitch. Mystery’s fingers dig into your hips and you gasp. It’s too much. You whimper. And it breaks something in all of them.

Romance yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, turning away with a curse. Marks rise on his skin, glowing faintly. You don’t even notice.

But then—

Jinu steps from the shadows. His gaze is ice. Piercing. Regal. He spares no glance for the man Abby dragged away. Only you.

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly.

You flinch.

“You’re reckless.”

Tears prick at your eyes. You know you shouldn’t have gone out. You know you shouldn’t feel better just because they’re here. But you do. Jinu’s hand reaches for your jaw, and you go still. The moment his fingers graze your skin, the bond explodes between you. You can’t breathe.

He leans down until your noses almost touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So reckless. So breakable.”

Jinu trails his nose on the side of your neck causing a shiver to erupt down your spine.

“If you’d stopped pretending this wasn’t real, you’d be spread across my lap, begging us to forgive you.”

You suck in a breath. Every nerve in your body screams. You squeeze your thighs together. This is wrong. This is insane. You should be running.

But you’re not.

You’re melting.

He lets go. You nearly fall forward—but he catches you. Of course he does.

They don’t ask.

They don’t wait.

They take you home.

Theirs.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

From the rooftop nearby, Mira watches the scene unfold.

The way the boys surround you.

The way you lean into them like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.

And then—

They vanish in smoke. With you.

She presses a finger to her earpiece. “She’s not normal,” she whispers. “And she’s gone with them.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sheets are silk under your touch. A splitting headache forms and you groan, last night’s party flooding back like a cruel wave. You decide you’re never drinking again.

Your eyes open—and your stomach twists. The ceiling isn’t yours. You bolt upright, heart pounding. And they’re there.

All five of them. Beautiful. Dangerous. Familiar in a way that makes your soul ache. They’re watching you. Some with concern. Some with reverence. Some like they want to devour you.

“Where am I?” you breathe. Your voice shakes. “Why am I here?”

You look around wildly, mind racing. You remember the latter events of the night. Romance’s gaze. Mystery’s breath on your ear. Abby’s voice like thunder. Baby’s black eyes. Jinu’s warning...

“You took me,” you gasp. “You took me.”

Abby steps forward first—hands raised like you’re a spooked animal. “You were in danger.”

“I was out with my friends,” you argue.

Mystery whispers from where he kneels near the door. “You’re always in danger when you’re not with us.” His voice is soft, but it cuts like glass.

Romance kneels beside the bed next. Too graceful. Too close. “Let us explain.”

You scramble back, trembling. “No. No more dreams. No more tricks.” Your hands press to your temples. “I’m not yours.”

You say it like you need to believe it. Like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

Baby finally speaks from the shadows. “Then why do you feel safer here than you’ve felt in your entire life?”

His voice is emotionless. Clinical. But something about it makes your skin erupt in chills. You freeze. Because he’s right. And that terrifies you.

Abby sits at the edge of the bed, watching you like a kicked dog. “You must be tired. How about a bath first, hmm?” His voice is too gentle for someone so strong.

You flinch. He notices.  And it kills him.

“I should go home—”

“Please, stay,” Mystery pleads. His voice is almost a whimper. You look at him and feel your heartbeat falter. Then Jinu approaches. Deliberate. Measured. The pull in your chest pulses harder.

“We would never hurt you,” he says, voice steady. “Please allow us to explain.”

You glance around. Five sets of eyes. Each one begging for the same thing. Not obedience. Not fear. A chance.

You sigh. “Fine. But I need a bath first.”

They release a breath like they’d been underwater for hours. Romance smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

So there you were, sitting on the edge of a couch that costs more than your rent. Hair damp and in clothes way too big for you. Based on the scent, you hate how you could tell they were Jinu’s. Unbeknown to you, the guys had drawn sticks to decide who’s clothes you would wear after your shower. 

Velvet cushions. Mahogany floors. Tall windows draped in gauzy silk that sways with no wind. You don’t know where you are.

But it smells like them. Like rain on stone, smoke, citrus, old paper, and heat.

You’re in their apartment.

And they’re all still here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like wolves circling their starved mate—but trying to look civilized about it.

Abby comes up from behind you, handing you a glass of water and two painkillers. “For your pretty little head. It must be pounding right now” 

You noticed his extra caution and nervousness and it broke your heart a little bit even if it shouldn’t. You take the medicine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, princess.” 

The room is bathed in silence after you take your medicine. Five pairs of eyes staring at you with longing and another emotion you were too afraid to acknowledge. Fondness? 

Love?

You shake your head at the thought. 

All of them couldn’t believe you were here. In their clothes sitting on their couch in their apartment. It was almost too good to be true. They had to be careful. They couldn’t afford to have you run like last time. 

Because they knew they wouldn’t just let you go now. Now that you’re here in their clutches. They’d make you stay.

Romance is the first to speak. “You’ve been dreaming of us.”

It isn’t a guess.

You swallow. Hard. “How do you know that?”

Mystery, curled up on a cushion across from you, answers in a low murmur. “Because we feel it when you do.”

You flinch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jinu steps forward slowly, crouching down like he’s afraid you’ll bolt. “The bond is active again.”

You cock your head to the side like a puppy. It was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. 

Baby’s fists tighten, resisting the urge to pounce on you.

Jinu speaks. “Your soul remembers. But your mind doesn’t. That’s why you feel sick during the day. Why you sleep like you’ve finally come home.”

He doesn’t touch you—but he gestures to the sketchbook on their coffee table. “You’ve been drawing us, haven’t you?”

You glance down. The sketchbook you didn’t bring with you. The one Mystery must have brought you. The pages are full of lines you don’t remember making. Faces. Threads. A burning palace. A blood moon. And five boys who all look like them.

“These don’t mean anything,” you say quietly. But your voice shakes.

Abby leans against the far wall, arms crossed. “You feel cold during the day. Like you’re not in your own skin.”

You nod slowly. “And you’ve been dizzy. Unsteady. Like something inside you is pulling.”

More nods. “That’s the bond, too.”

Romance sits down across from you, not too close. For once, he looks serious. “You don’t have to believe everything right now. But you feel it. Don’t you?”

“The thread. Between us.”

You try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

You stand up abruptly, putting the coffee table between you and all of them. They all flinch like they’re ready to catch you if you run. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m having dreams that don’t feel like mine. I’m drawing with a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Baby’s voice cuts in—calm and sharp. “You’re not losing your mind.”

“You’re remembering what was taken from you.”

You turn to Jinu, eyes wet with frustration. “Then explain it. Really explain it. No more riddles.”

Jinu takes a breath like it hurts to speak the words. The others go quiet. You feel the room shift—heavier. Like the bond itself is listening.

“You died.”

His voice is low. Steady. But grief hums under every syllable. “Four hundred years ago. You died. And it was my fault.”

He doesn’t blink. “I sold my soul to Gwi Ma for fame. I thought I wanted luxury, adoration—immortality. I got it. But then I met you.”

“You were just a girl. Bright. Human. Good. You saw me for what I was—a demon. And you stayed anyway.”

Your eyebrows raised at the mention of demon, but listened on, letting him finish.

“But I was selfish. And you paid the price. When you died, I begged Gwi Ma- the demon king to bring you back. He said no.”

His fists clench on his knees. And you began to think maybe he was crazy. A demon king? Really?

“So I made a deal. If I could bind other demons to your soul—build a tether strong enough to pull you back across lifetimes—he’d let you be reborn.”

He looks at you now. Really looks.

“And I did. I found them. Each one of us—Abby, Romance, Mystery, Baby—we lived lives tied to you. Not all at once. Not always together.”

“In every lifetime, you met one of us. You fell in love. You died. Again and again.”

Your breath catches in your throat and fear grips you. I died? Multiple times? Are they crazy? Every rational thought within you told you to reject this explanation. This Fairytale and yet…

When you looked into each of their eyes they were sincere. Jinu’s eyes holding so much truth so much anguish. Either they were psychos who believed their lies or…

It was all the truth. And that terrified you.

“You’ve lived dozens of lives, and in every one, your soul was trying to return to the pact.”

“Now… we’re all here. Together. Finally.”

“And your soul remembers.”

You sit frozen. The blood drains from your face. Your voice comes out broken: “So… I’m not me.”

Jinu’s expression shatters. He moves toward you slowly—like you’ll flee again. “You are you. You’re this lifetime’s version of her. But you’re more than this moment. You’re all the love, all the pain, all the choices you made to find your way back to us.”

Questions began swimming in your mind. Demons? They were demons? There was a Demon king, this Gwi Ma… it was all so crazy. Too crazy. Maybe too crazy to be a lie… How else would you explain this tether to them, this bond. How you’ve been feeling. The dreams, the sketches, the visions. It lines up with this story. 

Mystery whispers from the corner, cutting through your thoughts. “We missed you every time.”

There was a pain in his gaze, and you looked around to see that same pain reflected in everyone’s eyes. 

You needed more details. More explanations. Them not being human made sense, that was clear to you. But everything else, just seemed so bizarre to be true. Demons were real? You had been reincarnated? And they had loved you throughout those lifetimes? Their souls were tied to yours? 

Well, that last bit had you believing, because at least that last bit you actually felt.

It was all too crazy and you sighed, rubbing your temples. You didn’t want to believe them but somehow you just did. Like it all made sense. And deep down you knew it was the truth. 

You let the silence stretch. Something hot stings behind your eyes. “So what now?... You expect me to just—fall in love with you all?”

Baby answers this time. Voice low. Final. “No.”

“We expect you to remember that you already did.”

Your head is pounding. Not in a normal way. It feels like something is unraveling behind your eyes—memories that don’t belong to you pressing against the inside of your skull like water through cracked glass.

You close your eyes. The room spins. You hear a voice. Soft. Familiar.

“Don’t push her,” Jinu murmurs to the others. “She’s at the edge.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You want to argue. Scream. Say it’s all ridiculous. Say you don’t believe in past lives or demons or fate.

But your heart won’t let you. And neither will the thread quietly tugging behind your ribs. You don’t realize you’ve sunk back onto the couch until Mystery is gently placing a pillow behind your head, his touch featherlight. He doesn’t speak. Just hums something low and wordless as your eyes flutter shut.

Your head still hurts, but less. The weight of everything presses down—and still, for the first time in days, you don’t feel alone.

Romance crouches nearby, hands on his knees, watching you through his lashes. “We’re not asking you to love us today.”

“We’re asking for a chance.”

Abby, his arms crossed, finally uncrosses them. “A chance to take care of you. Like we were supposed to.”

You open your eyes. The ceiling above you glows faintly with soft reflected light. There’s no sound but their breathing. And your own heartbeat.

“Just… a chance?” you whisper.

Jinu kneels beside the couch again. “That’s all.”

“And if I don’t remember?”

He smiles—small. Sad.

“Then we’ll give you a thousand new reasons to love us again.”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no.

You close your eyes.

And this time, when the bond pulses gently at the base of your spine like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you…

You let it.

TO BE CONTINUED ───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's note: Wahhh I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! Things are picking up now and the ball is rolling. I sprinkled in a little bit of naughtiness there just to hint on eventual spice down the line... eventually, when it feels right! But let me know if you guys liked this one, reblog, comment, and like if you wish too! <3 Love y'all Willa x.

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Tag list: @faerie-soirxx@strayharmony943@ibby-miyoshi-nerd@anonymousewrites@cottonheadedninnymugggins@apelepikozume @moonlight-rosevine @yepitsmesendhelp @lovely-maryj @nonetheartist @ateezswonderland @sarah22447 @zuhaeri @enerofairy @littlemissfix-itfic @meeeegaaan

[norcigs]

FIREFLIES (CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩 pt 4)

previous part series masterlist

synop: lando and his camgirl fall further

warnings: no smut!, mainly plot and fluff, could be confusing as a standalone story

🚃: 3.4k words

lando woke up early, still softly lit by the afterglow of last night's memory. he went for a run, ate breakfast exactly as his dietician requested, and packed for italy. he was sure to include extra underwear and pj pants, just in case. 

he double, triple checked, that he had his laptop and charger packed away safely. he willed himself to keep his head in the game, thoughts on the track. rewatching pole laps, studying the limits, and praying this race stayed at the forefront of his attention. 

each time his thoughts were pulled back to you, he blinked them away. your body stung his imagination and had latched itself on tight. flashes of your hips rutting desperately. flickers of your cunt leaking as you begged him to let you cum. the quick turns of imola reminding him of the gentle curves of your body. softly trailing from one peak to another shallow. 

his finger tracing your collarbone, over your breast, cascading to your stomach and over your waist– focus lando. 

he got to the airport early too, doing all he could to convince himself he was locked in for this weekend. he was, the drive was there, the want simmering between the air pockets of his knuckles. the itch, resting in his chest, that only inhuman speeds could scratch. but now, there was a you-sized swell of longing that settled in his stomach. a twitch in his fingers that could only be calmed by the warmth of yours.

the flight wasn't long, it consisted of lots of strategy talk, and conversations between engineers. only once, when the talking paused, did he let his mind drift to thoughts of your giggle, soothing nerves he didn't know he was feeling. 

the wheels of the jet touched down as a soft breath of relief left lando’s lips. he would be in his hotel soon, he could see an outline of you everytime he blinked. like he had watched you until it burned into his eyelids. 

stepping on the track made a lot of lando’s loud thoughts shrink to a whisper. he was here to race, to win. the quicker he drove, the sooner he could go home to you. practice would start tomorrow, so as the sun set on the grandstands, he knew he would be ready.

after his obligations had been completed, he had done everything, read all the reports, studied what he needed to, he was finally released to his room. heart thumping as the clock read 8:31PM. 

throwing himself in the shower, scrubbing himself raw so he could be clean and ready for you. minutes felt like they passed quicker as each one got him closer to you. he hadn't even had time to get himself worked up and leaking. though, he didn't think he would have much trouble with that once he heard you. 

pajamas on, hair still wet, he sat against the headboard of the big hotel bed. typing in your link from memory. he didn't bother going to the main website anymore. he knew what he was looking for, you. 

just as he glanced over to the alarm clock, it switched to 9:00 PM. hand clicking into your live notification with a reaction time he prayed he could find on sunday. 

the set up was even closer now. it looked as though the laptop might have been sitting at the end of your bed. the angle showed you laying on your side, face still just out of frame. you looked comfortable, relaxed. you had a freeness to you he hadn't noticed before. 

his eyes ghosted over your body, feeling like they were being reunited. his heart swelled at your baggy orange tshirt. swallowing you as if it was one of his, yet somehow, still draping against the natural waves of your figure. he saw the small white shorts that just barely peaked out from below the shirts hem. 

they were tight, thin, and hot. but the way lando looked at you now, he thought about waking up to you like this. just existing at the same time, and in the same place as you. a feeling he couldn't quite place rose beneath his skin at the thought of falling asleep with his hands on your bare thighs. keeping you close, showing you how safe you were, how much he wanted you. 

“hi handsome” your voice caught from outside of the camera. delicate but laced with a sadness that made his heart surge. all eight letters of handsome went to his cheeks– flushed. 

HI LOVE

what? it was just a pet name… it didn't mean anything.. it's not like he really... loved you or anything. right? 

WHAT'S WRONG BABY?

he asked without even thinking. to him, the fraction of sadness that hinted in your voice, was as clear as day. your chuckle was the first thing that even alerted him to that not being the case.

“how could you tell?” you asked, a little warmer. chest rising as you talked to him. giving him your full attention. 

I KNOW MY GIRL

and he did. with how little time you had spent together, lando considered himself an expert in you. replaying your lives in his head, catching details he missed the first time. a freckle in a hidden spot, a flinch of your hips, twirl of your hair. it all spoke loudly, as if directly to him, you didn't have to speak for him to listen.

“just had a bad day at work, is all” you told him, truthful, but still dismissive. like you weren't allowed to have feelings, like you couldn't be human with him. “i'm sorry” you continued, a jolt of pain twisting in lando’s gut, “i don't think i wanna do anything sexual tonight… i know i told you i’d be live, i'm really sorry” 

DON'T DO THAT

I WOULD NEVER WANT YOU TO DO ANYTHING YOU'RE NOT EXCITED ABOUT

your posture loosened even more, almost pouting. but lando wasn't finished, the idea of you feeling bad about wanting a night off made him sick.

I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, YOU DID REALLY GOOD TODAY, BETTER THAN YOU THINK

his heart was louder than his head.

DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, HONEY?

he wanted you to know you could. he wanted the option to be there. perfectly content at the idea of you saying no and ending your stream without another word. sure, he had been looking forward to tonight, but seeing you was his favorite part anyway. he would never want you to do anything more than what you could handle.

he would be lying if he said he didn't really want you to stay. just like you were now, curled up. resting like a kitten might nap in a sun puddle. just talking to him. but if that wasn't what he was to you, if that wasn't what you needed, he wouldn't push. 

“no, its okay, i'm sure you really do not want to hear me complaining,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. the edges tinged with something brittle– like you were trying to fold yourself smaller, to take up less space. as if you could ever do something to bother him.

there was a pause, but his hands didn't still. he moved his fingers with a quiet urgency, driven by the storm behind his eyes. not anger, but sorrow. like your words had unsettled something in him. that you could think so lowly of yourself, that you truly believed your feelings might be too much for him– it bit at a place he hadn’t realized was so tender. 

something fiercely protective rose like thunder in lando’s storm. like he wanted to gather every broken piece of you, and show you just how wrong you were. how you could never be a bother.

I WANT TO BE HERE FOR YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING

a beat

LET ME?

he asked, as he felt his whole world pause waiting for you to respond. your posture hadn’t changed much, still seemingly relaxed, laid on your side. you hadn’t made much of a move to turn the stream off. maybe you wanted him to be here, maybe you… needed him.

“you're dangerous, four” you told him. voice caught on something hesitant in the back of your throat. like you were slipping into something you didn't think you should. “don't be nice to me, i'll fall for you,” you joked. a light hearted joke, nothing more than that, you promise. 

air escapes from your nose like a near laugh, lando’s pulse quickens and a cheesy smile is plastered across his face. 

I'LL CATCH YOU

he had flirted with girls before, but this felt different. this had his chest thumping and mind racing with what he could say to make you smile. 

“ugh, it wasn’t even anything crazy, it was like one of those days where just every little thing goes wrong” you started, adjusting a pillow to be under your head. “you know, like bad hair, burnt toast, catch every red light” your hand moved as you listed parts of your day. lando watched like he would be tested on it. 

“the worst part is the voice in your head that keeps telling you how to feel. like none of this stuff is bad enough for you to be so upset about. before you know it, you’ve convinced yourself you’re sensitive and the day just gets even worse” you pout, finishing.

lando tries not to smile, not to get all warm and fuzzy. he listens, he hears you. but there is a layer of warmth settling atop him. he thinks about you laying on him, telling him about a bad day. hearing about your coworkers, or boring office tasks, anything you thought important enough to tell him. 

his hands coming up to your face, cradling it like it could shatter. kissing you and telling you everything would be okay, that he was here, that he had you. the butterflies in his stomach multiplied when he thought about how you might react. how you would relax, how his words might comfort you. how you would trust him, knowing he had you, like it was second nature. 

SOUNDS ROUGH BABY

YOU DID VERY GOOD GETTING THROUGH IT.

DON'T LET YOUR HEAD BE MEAN TO MY GIRL. YOU'RE NOT TOO SENSITIVE, NEVER. YOU HAVE A BIG HEART AND YOU ARE FULL OF LOVE. THAT IS NEVER SOMETHING TO FEEL BAD ABOUT. 

you didn't speak as you read what he had to tell you. you absorbed it, waiting for each message like you knew he wasn't done. fingers playing with the sheets like you were shy, the sincerity of his messages making your head spin.

BAD DAYS HAPPEN. OF COURSE, THEY SHOULDN'T HAPPEN TO A PRETTY GIRL LIKE YOU. BUT WHEN THEY DO, LET ME BE LOUDER THAN THE VOICES. 

LET YOURSELF FEEL TODAY. LET IT SUCK. BUT REMEMBER, TOMORROW WILL BE A NEW DAY, AND YOU HAVE SO MUCH GOOD COMING TO YOU BABY.

he was breathing heavier, letting out air he didn't know he was holding. adrenaline pumping like he was in a braking zone with a red bull hunting him down. but you were not a race car. you something much slower, gentler. an escape from all of that. a bright gold light in the sea of mellow greys. 

a sniffle escaped you, muffled like you held it for as long as you could. you turned to lay more on your stomach and twist your face into the mattress. fabric catching the sound of your cry, but your stomach convulsing just enough for him to see it– to hear it. 

“sorry, i don't mean to cry. you're just– you're very good to me” you told him. the tears seemed happy, or relieved, but they still had a way of wrapping around lando’s heart like hot coils. 

NO MORE APOLOGIZING BUNNY

I GOT YOU. IM NOT GOING ANYWHERE.

your hand moved to wipe down your face, drying it somehow. a shaky breath escaped as you parted your lips and asked 

“would you want to talk for a little? just… like this?”

just like this. like you laying here, attention completely on him, wasn’t exactly what he spent the last week dreaming about. dipped in orange, skin dewy with tears he soothed. his girl. a beat passed as his eyes darted to the empty space on his bed. a ghost of you filled the position. he would wrap his arms around your frame, and keep you close against him, until you drifted off. 

THERE IS NOWHERE I WOULD RATHER BE

you huffed through your nose, humor creeping into your posture. “so obsessed with me” you teased– having no idea how right you were. “do you like my shirt” you asked him as you picked up a section of it to show the color off.

LOVE IT. YOU LOOK GOOD IN ORANGE.

he typed it without much thought. but once it left his fingertips the idea sat heavy on his heart and crotch. you looked good in his color. you liked wearing his color for him. the ownership bubbling in his chest wore a softer mask tonight. my sweet girl.

“you say i look good in everything”

CORRECT! AND I HAVE STILL YET TO BE WRONG.

a blush settled across your skin as heat settled in lando’s. 

PRETTY GIRL

“you're such a flirt” you told him, attempting to distract him from your nervousness he had already picked up on. “does this kind of talk work on all the ladies?” 

maybe it was a gentle jab, just banter. maybe it was a passing joke, not really searching for an answer. but the way your breath hitched and eyes hovered on your chat box, you knew that was not the case. at least, not anymore. you wanted to know, genuinely. were you just another girl of many? would you even have any right to be upset if you were? were you one of his girls at all?

I DON'T TALK TO ANYONE LIKE I TALK TO YOU

a breath, short and ragged with relief. “mm, now i feel special” your heart picked up to a pace you desperately tried to ignore.

YOU ARE VERY SPECIAL TO ME

and he meant it. as scary as it was, he meant it more than he even knew. how these days had passed so much easier with just the knowledge of your existence. how he got worked up at any thought of intimacy with you. how he couldnt think about fucking you anymore, not without the warm bath and light massage he would give you after.

time folded into itself like soft linens, the kind you’d pull over shared silences and quiet laughter. you lost track of its movement, how long you'd been talking, how many questions passed between you like notes in a dim-lit classroom. each one peeling back another layer. each one dropping your walls just that tiny bit lower. 

it wasn’t only flirtation, though, there was plenty of that, effortless and electric. but there was something more now, something deeper. you spoke about things you had never told anyone, at least, not really. about little fears and half formed dreams. the kind of truths that only fall out when you feel unexplainably safe.

he listened like each word you gave him was something rare, precious. he caught himself laughing at the same time as you, sighing in harmony. 

he asked about your favorite childhood memory, and you told him about a summer spent in the mountains. the one where you’d made a friend who swore you were magic. he listened like it mattered, like he was there with you, watching the fireflies and chasing the wind. then he told you about his first heartbreak. not bitter, not angry, just honest. and somehow, you didn’t flinch. somehow, it didn’t make you jealous. it made you want to know more about him. 

your voice had started to dip, just a little– softer, slower. like the night itself was tugging on your words, asking them to hush. 

“it’s late” you said, but neither of you moved to say goodbye. the quiet between you wasn’t awkward. it was the kind that felt full.

CAN I TELL YOU SOMETHING?

BEFORE WE LOG OFF

you nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see it. “of course.”

I THINK THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST NIGHT I'VE HAD IN A REALLY LONG TIME.

AND THE FUNNY THING IS

I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE HOW MUCH I NEEDED IT

NOT UNTIL YOU STARTED TALKING ABOUT STAR SIGNS AND FIREFLIES

you blinked. something fluttered in your chest. something kind.

“me too,” you said quietly. voice laced with the longing neither of you could see, only feel. “maybe it's silly, but,” you continued without pause. any hesitation that might have hidden in the shadow of your voice was gone now. “i feel more myself when i'm with you”

silence rippled between your mouth and each other's screens until it vibrated against lando’s lips. his heart was beating at numbers he had never seen on a speedometer. 

I FEEL IT TOO

LIKE A PIECE OF ME IS COMPLETED, A PIECE I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WAS MISSING

BUT NOW, I CAN'T IMAGINE LIVING WITHOUT

the moment was gentle, like warm air drifting through a cracked window on a spring sunday. it settled. weighted, but in the way a kitten laying on your chest might feel. 

“exactly… all of that… exactly” you said with wonder. you felt it. he felt it too. somehow, you two had found each other, and even if tonight was the last moment you spent together, you had shared time. shared space, shared memories. lando felt dreamy at the idea of making more. the idea of you taking up a space in his head and heart, a space that might have been made for you long before now.

a light yawn escaped you as the moment held you both together like a hug.

YOU SHOULD GET SOME REST BUNNY

your hand pawed at your eyes out of frame, trying, and failing, to push the sleep away from them. “same time tomorrow?” your voice was the sound of sugar dissolving in warm tea– gentle, golden, barely above a whisper. it curled at the edges like the last page of a love letter. the kind of sound that made lando wish he could bottle it, keep it beside his bed, and play it on nights he couldn’t dream.

TRY AND STOP ME

your giggle echoed around his head as you shifted to end stream. “goodnight four” a slow wave, sincere and nipping at his heart strings. “i hope you have a good day tomorrow, i miss you already” you finished, just with enough urgency to alert him of your nerves. 

even after all this time, telling him you missed him still made you shy. god. you were like nothing he could ever imagine. he knew you weren't a dream, because he could never create something as beautiful as you. 

his screen flicked and the familiar 

CAMBUNNY HAS ENDED HER LIVE

flashed like routine. this time, there was no pang of sadness. tonight was dizzying. quiet, and honest, yet screaming and roaring with something neither of you were strong enough to ignore. and equally so, too scared to name. 

he would see you again tomorrow. he would learn more about you. discover something new. the idea left him alight with yearning. it felt like something to live for. something to drive for. 

as lando rested his head against the pillow, practice was looming, distant, in the back of his head. he would be ready. you wanted him to have a good day, so he would. but for now, he would slip into the elixir of love his mind created when he thought about you. tonight, he would feel your lips on his cheek, and hand on his own, even if it was just a dream. 

seperated, but together in thought. both hearts beating in tandem. like fireflies on a summer night. 

[bitterreid]

🍒 Cherry Red 🍒

Summary: The cars need work, but Eddie is… distracted. By you. And ice cream. --- (This is part two of my mechanic!Eddie series My Clementine, but can be read as a stand-alone!)

Word count: 4.6k (fluff/smut)

Contains: fem!reader x mechanic!Eddie, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, Eddie is down bad (as he should be), even more incorrect car facts probably, woops, porn w plot

A/N: you guys requested a part two and I am a girl of the people!!! So here it is!!! PLEASE let me know what you think, because I was SO happy reading all the positive feedback on part one :)) and lmk if anyone would want a part 3!!!!! <3

⋆⭒˚.⋆​​🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie had been going mental.

It had been two days since he last saw you, and Eddie was sure no weekend in his entire life had ever lasted this long. He had laid about, tried not to melt during this ongoing heat wave Hawkins kept trying to drown him in, and mostly just thought of you. Non-stop. Whatever he tried, the image of your pretty face between his thighs kept popping up behind his eyelids every time he so much as blinked.

He was very much aware of how pathetic he was, truly, as he stared at his reflection in his tiny bathroom mirror. His big brown eyes peered back at themselves in the swipe he had cleared off the fogged up glass with his fingers. He touched his hair. Again. And Again, and again and a few hundred times over until he groaned in frustration and dragged his hands down his face. He had probably spent more time grooming himself this morning than he had in the rest of his life.

Unsatisfied with the end result (the heat and humidity made his curls extra puffy), Eddie dragged himself out of the bathroom and to his uncle's van.

"You ready, kid?" Wayne asked as Eddie finally hoisted himself into the passenger's seat.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Eddie mumbled, winding down the window to feel the soft summer breeze on his face. It was only 7:30 in the morning, which meant that the excruciating temperatures that were to come had not yet fully woken up. Instead, Eddie welcomed the mellow warmth on his face, closing his eyes to mentally prepare himself to face you again. 

He had no idea how today would go. Friday had been his literal dream come true, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen had just - somehow - liked his awkward charm enough to give him the best present of his life, but how did he act now? Was it a one time thing? Would you suddenly ignore him now? Eddie felt a sinking feeling at the thought of it. He really liked you, he realised somewhat hesitantly. Because he knew very well that there was a huge difference between a heat-of-the-moment kind of fling and the soft, colourful-winged nerves he felt fluttering around inside his body. He just hoped you felt the same.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie spent the day on high alert. With every move he made, he was painstakingly aware you could be watching. You weren't, of course, so Eddie looked like a fool every time he turned around in his (definitely not practiced in front of a mirror or anything) movie-like manner, to an empty door frame, or worse, Wayne, who gave him increasingly weirded out looks. 

He was starting to lose hope. Maybe it had meant nothing to you, maybe you had meant nothing by it, maybe you hadn't thought of him at all since that night, maybe you didn't like him, maybe he had done something wrong, maybe he- 

"JESUS! Oh my god- oh you have to stop doing that!" Eddie blurted out, steadying himself on one of the cars. 

You stood beside him, close enough so he could smell the sweet vanilla-like scent of your perfume. You were even more beautiful that he remembered, the ache in his chest told him without uncertainty. And you had a love for scaring the living shit out of him, apparently, as he gathered from the satisfied smile on your lips.

"Hi Eddie, good morning," you said, voice betraying no ill intentions.

"Good morning," was all Eddie managed, paired with a smile he hoped was not as awkward as it was in his mind. This was just typical. He had daydreamed about what to say to you all weekend, played out entire conversations in his head, and now he was reduced to a nervous mess in front of you.

"How are the cars behaving today?" you asked, stalking around the one he was working on, "This one is notorious, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, yeah, this one's feisty," Eddie said while lightly smacking the side of the car like it was a horse, "she's a real piece of work."

"Hmm," you mused, sitting down on one of the stools in the garage, "she's pretty though."

"Yeah," Eddie wrung the oil and grease stained rag he wiped his hands on between his fingers, "real pretty." It was unclear to himself whether he was still talking about the car. 

Wayne had gone out to fetch a part for one of the Mustangs in the town over, so it was just you and Eddie in the sweltering heat trapped inside the garage. Had you waited until Wayne left to be alone with him? The thought alone made his heart skip a beat. 

"So, uh, how've you been?" was the only sentence his scrambled brain could produce on the spot, somehow. 

You smiled at him as if you saw right through him, "Melting, mostly, what about you?" 

"Yeah, same…" Eddie internally cursed himself for his total lack of social skills, "real uh, real warm." He could about die right now, yeah.

You snickered at him, luckily more in a (dare he say it?) affectionate way than a mean one, to Eddie's surprise and delight. "Right on, Munson," you said, "Hey, would it be okay if I just hung around here for a while? Just reading all alone in an empty house is just a tad sad, you know?" you asked while producing a book, seemingly out of thin air.

Eddie couldn't agree to your request fast enough, "Y-yeah! Sure, sure."

"Alright, don't mind me, don't want to distract you," your smile was sweet, comforting in a warm way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

But distract him, you surely did. Eddie was a mess in your presence, no one needed to spell that out for him, but just the mere fact that you were now sitting a mere few steps away from him messed up his brain to a fatal degree. He spilled oil, screwed bolts on the wrong way, tried to open a hood that was already open, and that was all in the first ten minutes. Meanwhile, you seemed completely unbothered.

But for Eddie, the unspoken events from a couple of days ago hung in between you, making the air he was trying to breathe thick and syrupy. He didn't know what to do with himself, somehow completely enamoured with the simple sight of you reading a book, but nervous to his core when he thought about starting a mere conversation.

He was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of you snapping your book shut. You stretched your limbs, your top riding up to expose a sliver of your waist that Eddie was sure would come back to haunt him in his daydreams and nightmares alike. You looked up at him, and Eddie suddenly realised he had been frozen in place, bending over one of the motors, screwdriver in hand, frozen mid-air. He quickly straightened up, going for unbothered and casual. (he was neither)

"Hey so, would you like to go get ice cream later?"

Eddie felt like he had been hit over the head with a lottery ticket. You had just… asked him out. Why didn't that cross his mind? Why didn't he do that? "Yeah!" he blurted, quickly reigning himself back in, "Yeah, sounds nice."

"Great," you smiled at him while you got up from the chair, "I'll come back here around five, yeah?"

"Yeah, great, great," Eddie could hardly school the broad smile on his lips into something less euphoric, "See you then!" 

"See ya."

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The hours crawled by achingly slow, making Eddie wonder multiple times whether the big grandfather clock was even still working. But then, finally, a quarter to five arrived. He wished he could take you out -was this a date? He still wasn't sure - in an outfit different from his dirty tank top and ripped jeans, but it would have to do. Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, you seemed to have a thing for it?

Anyway, at exactly 4:58, you appeared. You had changed into a flowy sundress, and wow. Eddie marvelled at how the colour brought out the depth in your eyes and complimented the glow of your skin tone perfectly. Simultaneously, he wondered when exactly he had become Shakespeare? He had never noticed these kinds of things before. But then again, it had never been you standing before him.

"Hey Mr. Munson," you greeted Wayne.

"Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing here, shouldn't you be out enjoying your summer?"

"Oh I am, Mr. Munson, promise," you smiled your infectious smile at him, "mind if I borrow your nephew for that tonight?" 

Wayne's eyebrows shot up as he gave Eddie a surprised look over your shoulder. All Eddie could do was smile back sheepishly. It's not like he had wanted to keep it a secret per se, he just didn't want to put up with all the teasing. 

"All yours," he motioned to Eddie, "And I've told you a million times, sweetheart, just call me Wayne."

He packed the last of his things into the truck while you made your way over to Eddie. Before he left, Wayne gave him a pointed look, the same one as when Eddie looked at the expensive cars a little too long. The same one that applied to everything else in this garage, now including you, be careful, boy. 

But Eddie didn't have much time to heed his warning, as you were now standing right before him, and his nervous system once again crashed and burned inside his chest. 

"So, which one?" you quipped.

"Hmm? Which what?" Eddie felt like you always had his brain working overtime.

"Which," you swung the door of the cabinet containing all of the car keys open, "one, Eddie?" 

"No way."

"Yes way," your smile grew even wider, "I'm driving, of course, but it's you pick tonight."

Eddie thought he might spontaneously propose to you right then. Instead, he went on a rant about all the dream cars that were gathered in this room. "Maybe the Camaro! Or the Miata, the Aston Martin, the Carrera 6…" he was almost bouncing from excitement.

You laughed along with him, the affectionate tone seeping back into your voice, "Your pick!"

"Sweetheart, you're making it real hard on me," he half-whined, somewhat finding back his charm, "Any requests from your side?"

"Nope, all yours."

"You're too kind to me," he drawled, "but I bet you already know which one I'm going to pick, right?"

You grinned, taking a key from the cabinet and tossing it in the air, "Thunderbird, of course." 

"Of course," he echoed, now it was his turn to sound fond.

"M'lady," he said as he opened the car door for you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie shouldn't be surprised by your driving skills, logically, you had grown up with all sorts of classic cars around, obviously. But he still was. The genuine smile that took over your face as you shredded through the bends in the country roads made his heart do flips inside his chest. He was, once again, quite aware of how pathetic he was being, sitting there in one of the most beautiful cars he had ever seen, and only looking at your side profile.

When you got to the ice cream shop, it was extremely busy. Heatwave, and all. So you stood in line, and Eddie's nerves seemed to have sufficiently calmed down for him to behave like a semi-normal person again, so he ventured into starting a conversation.

"What flavour are you gonna get?"

You thought it over for a second, "Cherry."

"Cherry?" Eddie craned his neck to see past the cue, "they have that?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "they have all kinds of crazy flavours, way crazier than cherries, I once had strawberry cilantro sorbet here - that was a mistake," you giggle, thinking back. 

"Cilantro??" Eddie exclaimed, "Sorry but anything green does not belong in ice cream." 

"I agree, definitely, but I have this terrible habit of always picking the strangest flavour and then regretting it." you mused, getting closer to the end of the line. "Hey, they have clementine!"

"Clementine?" Eddie barely even knew what a clementine was, but before he could ask you whether that would even taste remotely good, you had already ordered a scoop of it. When it was Eddie's turn, he ordered cherry. 

You walked away from the stall to an area with some benches under the shade of a large tree. Eddie watched as you took the first lick of your bright orange ice cream, and saw in real time as your face went sour.

"I think I did it again," you said after you had swallowed, "this is… this is a crime." The crinkle in your nose made Eddie's lopsided grin even wider.

"Trade?" he offered.

"Would you?" you said, eyes lighting up.

"Hmh," he nodded, "let me taste," you held out the cone and Eddie took a broad lick, trying not to think of any underlying implications and/or flashbacks, and indeed, it was terrible. The ice cream tasted like straight up chemicals, pure food colouring, paint, something like that, and Eddie had to try so hard to school his face into an agreeable expression. "I like it."

"You don't!" you exclaimed, "you can't!" 

"I do, though" he sing-songed, plucking your cone out of your hands and replacing it with his. 

"Did you order cherry just because you knew I'd like it?" you wondered, eyes slightly wide, slightly thrown.

"Maybe," Eddie mumbled before he took a big bite from his ice cream, "just enjoy the cherry for me, alright?" 

"Alright," you said quietly, smiling into your ice cream, "thanks, Eddie." 

Even the chlorine-like taste was worth getting to see you enjoy your bright red treat. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

After you had both finished your ice cream (Eddie was so glad it was over), you talked for hours. Afterwards, Eddie couldn't even begin to name the topics, but what remained was a warm, fuzzy feeling, and the fact that you were not only the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but also the funniest. Oh and you were so smart, and kind! And Eddie could keep going, but you were currently throwing the keys to the Ford in his direction.

"Fancy a test drive, Munson?" 

"No way! Can I?" Eddie's eyes went comically wide, excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"If you can sit through that ice cream, I think you deserve a ride," you smiled, broad and careless, and Eddie couldn't tell what he was more excited for, driving the car, or more time with you.

When he carefully let himself drop into the driver's seat, he marvelled at the beauty before him, "You're sure?" he had to check.

You just nodded, "Just, never, ever tell my dad. Ever." 

Eddie swallowed, alright, no pressure.

But it was so worth it. Eddie was careful enough in handling the car, luckily, but still managed to rack up speeds that would make Hopper frown, even though he reserved them for the deserted backroads you had directed him to. 

When he had finally had enough of driving (speeding) around with you giggling beside him and your hair swooshing around your face in the wind, it had already gotten dark. He parked the car at the side of the dirt road in the middle of nowhere you were currently on, somewhere between the corn fields.

"Look at the stars!" he exclaimed, as he marvelled at the sight above him. You tipped your head back as well and smiled.

"If you want to stargaze, we should sit in the back, there's more room there" you suggested. And it was an innocent enough suggestion, sure, but Eddie's voice surely thought otherwise when it almost broke at the word "Sure."

So, you climbed into the backseat together, Eddie's long legs still a bit cramped, but there really was more room, he had to admit. You settled into the backseat next to him, and Eddie was almost surprised by how easy it was to put his arm around you. The way you fit into his side made him question why he was so nervous at all, because it just felt right. 

You sat there silently, cuddling up to each other in the faint moon light. It was quiet, serene, almost. Until you shrieked. And jumped. Or, well, as much as you can jump in a car, at least.

"What! What's wrong?!" Eddie exclaimed.

You were frantically swatting around you, "Grasshopper!!!" was the only thing you shrieked, and Eddie would have burst out laughing if you hadn't yelled it so loudly. Still he huffed a little laugh, but wasted no time in helping you catch the thing. Eddie eventually succeeded in capturing it in his hands and throwing it into the fields, bringing peace back to the car. 

"It was, it was just really big," you managed, out of breath from the swatting. But once your wide eyes met Eddie's, you both burst out laughing. 

"He was pretty big, I'll admit," Eddie eventually managed, "But you were really brave, sweetheart." 

You shoved his shoulder, wanting to wipe the teasing grin clean off his face, but you accidentally lost your balance, falling into Eddie's chest. He caught you, and suddenly all giggly, lighthearted giddiness evaporated. Your face was so close to his that he could practically feel the burning of your cheeks reflected on his. 

He was almost lying down already, but with one smooth movement from you, he was now flat on his back, with you on top of him. Your hair softly swayed in the wind as you looked down on him, your smile hovering somewhere between playful and sincere, and Eddie thought that he should take a moment to imprint this sight into his brain forever. Your beautiful face, the stars above you, the soft sounds of crickets in the grass around you, and the bone-deep silence beyond that. 

He smiled up at you, embarrassingly aware of how sappy he was being inside his head, and cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand. You instinctively leaned into his touch, which made his heart flutter, as he slowly caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

After what felt like hours of staring into your eyes, the wind whistling softly through the fields, you draped yourself on top of him and buried your face in his neck, where you - ever so lightly - started planting kisses. Eddie's eyes immediately fluttered closed, not used to the soft, intimate touch, but reveling in it. 

Your kisses slowly grew more heated, your teeth scraping over his pulse point had Eddie writhing beneath you, not being able hold back a whiny moan when you followed the soft sting with careful laps of your tongue. His hands found your waist, softly caressing your curves through the fabric. Just the shape of you, the dip in the small of your back made him go crazy. His hands roamed your body, not quite daring to dip below your waist just yet, but his inhibitions were slowly melting away with the way your mouth attacked his skin.

By now, you were planting open-mouthed kisses on his collarbones, and Eddie had never wanted to bottle a feeling as much as the feeling of your body pressed to his and your mouth on his neck.

When your hand slowly slid between your bodies and you reached for his belt buckle, he stopped you, though. Eddie was a gentleman, of course, and he had been daydreaming about this moment all weekend.

You halted your gentle attack when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist, insecurity flashing in your eyes for just a second before Eddie smiled and said "Not this time, sweetheart, it's time to let me take care of you tonight."

Your eyes went a little wider at his words, and then a lot wider as he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, him now hovering above your frame. The gasp you let out was followed by your giggles, which only encouraged Eddie's antics. He smiled wolfishly down at you, at your delicate features framed by the moonlight, the smooth expanse of your neck and collarbones until his view was obstructed by your dress. He had been dreaming of kissing the soft skin behind your ear since he met you, he could finally admit now, and when he did, the feeling was unmatched.

The soft mewls he pulled out of you with each peck and precise lick fueled him on even more, kissing a stripe down your chest to where the swell of your breast disappeared into your dress. He didn't particularly think it would be a good idea to strip you completely naked somewhere in a random field, but god, how he wanted to. Instead, he would have to settle for his next plan. 

After making sure he left no part of your neck untouched, unkissed, his large hands curled around your waist again to slide you further up on the seats. He positioned himself in between your legs, smoothing his large hands up and down the expanse of what was already revealed of your thighs. He could hardly think straight anymore already, he vaguely thought, so lost in the sight of you, even while still fully clothed. 

He looked up at your face, your eyes were heavy with need, tracking his every move, while your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth. You were a vision. 

"'This alright?" Eddie asked, an almost breathless quality to his voice.

"Yeah," you said, softly, a smile playing on your lips.

At your confirmation, Eddie wasted no time in bunching your dress up at your hips, revealing your light blue panties, complete with a little bow. He groaned as soon as he saw the little wet patch that had formed on the soft cotton, growing hungry in a way that was new to him. But he wanted to draw this moment out for as long as you would let him. 

He started by kissing each of your knees, working his way down your thighs kiss by kiss. The skin there was just so soft, Eddie thought he could drown in it. The plush flesh felt divine underneath his fingertips as he softly squeezed your hips, getting closer and closer to your centre. 

You were growing impatient under him, your body writhing and wiggling in his grip. He smiled against your soft skin, "Needy, are we?" he remarked, as if he had any resolve left in him. 

At the simple "Please, Eddie, need you," that left your lips, he was a goner. He capitulated instantly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. His eyes were fixed on your pussy, the way your slick glistened in the pale moonlight seemed to him the single most alluring thing he had ever seen. 

He carefully leaned down, as in trance, and swiped his calloused fingertips through your folds, gathering your wetness. You moaned instantly at the relief it brought, making Eddie even more crazed to taste you.

"All this for me, sweetheart?" his voice was thick with anticipation.

"All for you, Eddie," you cooed, arching your back for him.

That was what did him in, what made the very last of his resolve crumble. He dove in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The way you arched into him and moaned his name upon the contact made him dizzy. So he kept going, licking deliberate strokes up your soaked pussy, while you mewled above him. He had a steady grip on your waist, holding you to his mouth as he experimentally wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. 

The pornographic moan you let out went straight to Eddie's rock hard dick, making him moan against your core. He didn't have a lot of experience, but he sure made up for it in enthusiasm, plus, he liked to think of himself as a quick learner. That's why, when your hands found their way into his hair, he let you softly pull his hair to guide him to all the right spots. He followed your directions carefully, devoting extra attention to your most sensitive spots, all while you ground your hips onto his face.

Eddie had never been this happy in his entire life, he thought. The way you tasted, the way you sounded, the fact that it was his name tumbling from your lips amidst your moans and curse words, he must have gone to heaven. 

When he broke away for just a second, your eyes were heavy lidded, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and your lips were bitten raw. Eddie had never seen anything more beautiful. 

"Sweetheart, do you want my fingers?" 

You smiled coyly, almost bashfully, as you nodded, "Yeah, please?"

And who was he to deny you anything? He gathered some of your wetness first, circling your clit just a couple of times, reveling in the soft "oh" sounds you made with every pass of his fingers, before he carefully pushed his middle finger into you. He studied your face intently, but he only found pleasure there, in the way your eyes screwed shut, your lips slowly parted, and the way you clawed at the expensive leather of the seats. 

Eddie couldn't care any less about the seats right now, though, being entirely mesmerized by the way you were taking him. 

"More?" he offered.

All you could do in your blissed out state was nod.

So Eddie added a second finger, steadily pumping in and out of you, watching your body react as if it was pure magic. The whiny sounds you started to make tipped Eddie off about how close you were getting. He quickly added his mouth back into the mix, going back to licking and sucking on your clit as his fingers still worked your entrance. 

The sounds you were making were divine, and also the backdrop to all of Eddie's future fantasies, he was sure. So he kept going, spurred on by every breathy "Edddie, Eddie, Eddie," that left your lips.

Your hands found his hair again, raking through his curls and softly pulling on them. "Eddie, baby, I'm so close, ah-" your thighs were trembling by now, a sight that made pride bloom in Eddie's chest.

"Yeah? Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna come all over my fingers for me?" 

And that was all you needed. With a last high-pitched moan and a dozen more chants of his name, your back arched into him as your orgasm crashed over you. Eddie felt your pussy squeeze his fingers even tighter as he worked you through your orgasm, completely in awe with the stunning sight playing out before him. 

When you came down from your high, cheeks glowing and smile cherry red and satisfied, Eddie felt a surge of affection blooming in his chest that had been just as strong as his lust. 

"Was that good, sweetheart?" he asked, partly to mirror your earlier question, partly because he still needed some validation.

You leaned forward, raking your fingers through his wild hair once more as you planted a careful kiss on his forehead, "Eddie, that was the best orgasm of my life," you giggled, dropping your head on his shoulder. Soon, you were joined by Eddie's matching giggles, which he just couldn't hold back at your compliment. He was glad your face was buried in his neck again, because his cheeks were burning so hard, he was sure not even the night air would be able to hide his deep cherry blush. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆​​🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

let me know if you guys still want a part 3! :)) thanks for reading and feedback is very very welcome! <3

Tag list? @pretendthisnameisclever @g3n3zshack @s1mp-4-ga11y (never thought I'd be cool enough to have a tag list so thank you guys <333)

[fanficsat12am]

You were never supposed to matter (1)

Targeting the fans was only the beginning. If he truly wants to bring down HUNTR/X, Jinu knows he has to strike at their core by focusing on one of their beloved managers, (Y/N). But what happens when the demon prince of pop finds himself falling for the very heart he planned to break?

wc: 1.9k

divider credits go to @hyuneskkami 💛

Letting out a sigh, your shoulders droop in exhaustion, your marbled countertop now looking like the softest mattress in all of Korea. With the way the Saja Boys have been climbing the charts lately, Rumi’s voice disappearing, and the backlash from the canceled live performance, you had no idea how you were supposed to manage this nightmare.

You knew about the girls’ second life—how they protected the world from Gwi-Ma’s demons while maintaining the perfect image of K-pop idols. You were one of the few people Rumi trusted with her secret, having accidentally seen the marks on her back during a fitting. After years of working with HUNTR/X, you’d gotten good at spinning lies to Bobby and the others: exploding demons? Special effects. The girls falling from the sky mid-rehearsal? Just some ambitious wire work. But with the recent threat of the hot, muscular demon boy band, you had been on your toes for days, coordinating with the PR team on how to keep the girls afloat amongst their competitors. 

Your eyelids begin to droop, heavy from exhaustion—until something shifts.

The air changes. The night breeze picks up, colder now, sharper. 

Your eyes snap open. You reach back, grabbing the nearest knife from the block. As you spin around, your blade lands inches away from a familiar figure—a raven-haired boy standing in your kitchen. 

“Easy, easy, easy,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender. As he takes a step closer, the streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains reveal him in his human form—the one plastered across billboards and fangirl daydreams.

And who could blame them?

He was the epitome of perfection. The sharp jawline, the tousled black hair, the lean frame that moved with dancer precision—it was a weapon in itself. He was sculpted to charm, built to be adored. Even now, bathed in silver light, he looked less like a demon and more like a dream.

But it was his eyes that made you hesitate—those honey-colored irises, warm and gleaming with something almost human. Almost.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” you demand, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he replies calmly.

“Oh sure, because trusting a demon has never gone wrong before,” you snap, stepping closer, the blade still pointed at him.

But he doesn’t flinch.

“Well... your little friend believed me when I promised to keep her secret. Purple hair with demon marks sound familiar?”

That stops you. Just for a moment. Just enough.

Jinu sees it—and steps forward, gently pressing a finger to the tip of your knife and guiding it away.

“Now that I have your attention,” he says calmly, “I want to help you.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “And what makes you think I’d ever believe you?”

He sighs, gaze lowering. “I don’t expect you to. I just… I want to be like her. To be free. But until they reach the Golden Honmoon, we’ll never escape Gwi-Ma’s control.”

Your jaw tightens. “You have those marks for a reason.”

“I made a mistake—”

“No,” you snap. “You made a choice.”

Your grip tightens on the knife. “And that’s why I can never trust someone like you.”

In a split second, the blade flies from your hand—but before it can touch him, he vanishes in a puff of violet smoke. The knife hits the wall with a dull thunk, then clatters to the wooden floor.

A small, pale blue card flutters down from where he once stood. You hesitate before picking it up.

A cartoon duck smiles on the front.

You open it.

Inside, in delicate handwriting, it reads:

“Come find me when you’re ready to listen.”

You roll your eyes, toss the card into the bin, and fall back onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

But as the night settles in, you can’t help but wonder, why did Rumi trust him? And why, deep down, did part of you want to believe him too.

__________________________________

As you watched the girls practice the dance for what felt like the umpteenth time, your mind kept wandering back to last night’s encounter. There had to be a catch. Demons were all the same—selfish, vile, cruel.

So what did he really want?

The memory of his honey-colored eyes lingered like a bruise in your thoughts. Warm, almost sincere—but lies always wore a pretty face.

So many questions spun through your head like a whirlpool, dragging you under until—

“Helloooo?”

You blinked. Zoey was waving her hand inches from your face.

“Earth to (Y/N)?” she teased, dragging out the last word.

Your eyes widened, snapping back to the three girls now staring at you.

“You okay?” Mira asked, head tilting, brows furrowed with a mix of concern and suspicion. “You’ve been acting… different today.”

Zoey pipes up again, “Yeah, you’ve been looking at us like—” She tilts her head to the side, eyes wide, like she’s under a spell.

You giggle softly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.” You send them a reassuring smile.

They all nod, understanding. You always had a lot on your plate as a manager.

“We’ll go ahead and call it a day,” Rumi says. “Let’s pick it back up tomorrow.”

The other girls sigh in relief, clearly eager to be swallowed by the nearest couch. As they turn to pack their things, you reach out and gently grab Rumi by the wrist. She stops, her violet hair swaying slightly as she looks back at you.

“Can we talk?” you whisper.

Her brows crease. “Yeah, sure, uhm…” She glances over to Zoey and Mira. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

“Sounds good,” Mira calls. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Zoey waves excitedly before leaving with her pink-haired companion.

Once the door clicks shut behind them, the room grows quieter.

You turn to Rumi, wasting no time.

“Have you been talking to Jinu?” Your voice is firm. “And don’t lie to me.”

She stiffens. Her eyes dart away, debating silently. Then, quietly—

“Yes.”

You let go of her hand as if burned, staring at her like she just suggested disbanding HUNTR/X.

“Rumi…”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?” Your voice sharpens. “Rumi, he’s a demon! One of the very monsters you’ve sworn to hunt and destroy. You’ve hated their kind since you were a little girl!”

She hesitates, but then… she speaks.

“He’s different.”

She bites her lip. “He’s not like the others we’ve fought. He just… he doesn’t enjoy the hurting. It’s like he’s trapped in something he didn’t ask for.” She pulls her sleeve up slightly, revealing the faint glowing marks etched into her skin. 

“People change,” she says, voice low. “Sometimes… they just need a reason to.”

Before you could respond, the studio lights flickered once… twice… then died. The room plunged into darkness.

“Get out,” Rumi said sharply, her voice instantly shifting into that protective, no-nonsense tone. “Now.”

“Wait, what are you—”

“Go!” she shouted, already dashing in the opposite direction.

Heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, you grabbed your phone with trembling hands and fumbled to switch on the flashlight. The weak beam flickered to life, cutting through the thick veil of darkness as you sprinted down the hallway, footsteps echoing against the studio walls.

But halfway through, you skidded to a stop—your breath caught in your throat.

A low, sickening growl echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.

Then came the sound of claws—wet, ragged, scraping against the walls. From the cracks and corners, they emerged—a horde of demons, crawling out like living smoke. Half-shadow, half-nightmare. Spines jagged like broken glass. Eyes glowing red in the dark. Limbs bending wrong, too many joints, too many teeth.

You turned to run—but they were faster. One leapt toward you, its mouth splitting open in a shriek that pierced your skull.

You screamed, stumbling back, and instinctively squeezed your eyes shut.

You braced for the pain. For the end.

But it never came.

Instead, a feral snarl ripped through the air, so loud and guttural it made your bones rattle. The sickening crunch of impact followed, like something had been thrown straight into the wall. Hard.

Your eyes snapped open.

There, standing between you and the demon pack, was a tall figure draped in a jet-black hanbok, its fabric swaying gently like smoke in the still air.

“Jinu?” you whispered

But not the Jinu you knew.

His human illusion had fallen away. He wore a traditional black gat, its ribbon fluttering in the unnatural wind that had suddenly stirred. From beneath the wide brim, his eyes burned golden—not warm, but wild, predatory. Smoke, thick and purple-black, coiled around the edges of his silhouette.

His body moved like liquid shadow, sleek and elegant, but every step oozed restrained violence. The demon who had attacked you lay crushed against the wall in a heap of limbs, twitching before going still.

Jinu didn’t even glance back.

He didn’t speak.

But as the others lunged at him, he moved with a speed that was inhumane.

Effortless. Precise. Beautiful in a way that made your breath catch and your spine crawl.

He cut through them like a blade of darkness—one clawed hand dragging a demon to the ground, the other summoning a flick of searing smoke that split through flesh like fire through paper. Each motion was deliberate, calculated, protective—but brutal.

You stared, frozen.

Not because you were afraid.

But because you understood.

He hadn’t come for them.

He came for you.

You watched as he dealt with the last of them, holding it by the throat and with a crack of finality, letting it fall limp to the ground—it’s body fading into ashes. He looks back to you, but the look of anger and bloodshed in his bright golden eyes was gone, now back to a warm hue. The silence seemed to stretch between the two of you, almost palpable. He walks towards you. Every step echoed in your ears, louder than your own heartbeat. Your instincts screamed—Run. Turn away. Don’t let him get close. But you stay frozen in your spot. He stopped just inches away, closer than you should’ve ever let a demon get. He raised his hand slowly. You flinched and shut your eyes, breath hitching sharply. 

This is it, he’s going to kill me himself. 

Instead, you felt his ice-cold finger lifted your chin gently, his touch featherlight. Your eyes fluttered open. You find his gaze inspecting every inch of your face, his bows furrowing just the slightest as he memorized every detail. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. 

You nodded, though your voice trembled. “Y-yeah.”

He let out a soft breath, the corner of his lips curling into the faintest smile. “Good.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then his expression shifted—just slightly, like a storm creeping back in behind his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured, gaze dropping for a second. 

Before you can speak, he steps back. The smoke curling around his form starts to rise again, swallowing him like mist.

“Wait—” you call out, reaching a hand toward him

But he’s already fading.

“Don’t follow me,” he says, voice soft but clear. “Not until you’re ready.”

Then, just like before, he vanishes into a ripple of violet haze.

You’re left standing in silence. The hallway, once haunted by demons, now feels too still. Too empty.

And then… something flutters gently to the floor.

Your eyes lower.

Another card.

Same pale blue. Same cartoon duck. But now, taped to the back, a single ticket—National Theater of Korea. Tomorrow. 8 p.m.

You pick it up slowly, heart thudding in your ears.

Inside the card, in that same careful handwriting:

“Come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

You want to throw it away.

You should throw it away.

But instead, your fingers tighten around it. You stare at it for a moment longer… then quietly tuck it into your pocket.

[immaqulate]

stay inside (pt 2) | c.s

— chris sturniolo x fem! reader

— warnings: smut, VERY FILTHY, but itty bit of softness, breeding kink, raw sex, unprotected sex (creampie), “stay inside” (double entendre), possessive!Chris, praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, very vocal Chris, slight choking (light/consensual), reader begging, marking, cycle talk, cum play implied, emotional smut, 2nd person pov, established relationship, mildly feral behavior, slight pregnancy fantasy, post-sex clinging, no protection used (plz wrap it b4 u tap it), messy and intentional

You didn’t even have to say yes. The look in your eyes told him everything— and now Chris is desperate to stay buried inside you, until you forget how to breathe without him.

requested by moot! | word count: 836

You didn’t say the word.. you didn’t have to.

The look in your eyes when he whispered “Say the word and I’ll make it happen tonight” said everything. And that was all Chris needed.

He kissed you deep— almost dizzying, like he wanted to breathe through you— before tugging your shirt up and off, slow and reverent. His gaze locked onto your body like it was something sacred. Something he was ready to worship.

“You know what tonight is, right?” he rasped, voice low as his hand skimmed your waist. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

You blinked, dazed. “Notice what?”

His fingers slipped between your thighs, pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. He smiled— dark, satisfied. “Ovulating, baby.”

You froze.

“Your body’s been screaming for me all day.” His fingers rubbed slow, teasing circles. “Thought you were being subtle, but I know you too well.”

You whimpered when he pushed the fabric aside. “Chris—”

“Mhm. You’re so warm already. So wet.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against your jaw. “You think I don’t wanna give you everything? You think I don’t lie awake some nights thinking about you swollen and dripping and full of me?”

You moaned. Actually moaned.

That earned you a kiss. A filthy, tender, absolutely ruinous kiss as he laid you back and dragged his mouth down your body— between your breasts, across your stomach, then lower.

He didn’t speak again until he was face to face with your cunt.

And when he did— it was a prayer.

“Stay open for me, baby.”

You gasped when his tongue met your clit— wet and slow, swirling like he had nowhere else to be. He didn’t rush. Didn’t chase your orgasm. He coaxed it out of you, murmuring “that’s it, good girl” as you bucked into his mouth.

Two fingers slid in. Curled. Perfect.

“Fuck—Chris—”

“Let go, baby,” he whispered. “I got you. Wanna taste every drop before I give you more.”

You shattered. Hips trembling, eyes fluttering, his name leaving your lips like it was the only one you remembered.

And he didn’t stop.

He kissed his way back up, hand still teasing between your thighs, smile soft and wrecked as he hovered over you. “You ready?” he asked, like a gentleman. Like a menace.

“Please,” you whispered, pulling him down.

He pressed the tip in with a shaky groan, burying himself inch by inch, slow and torturous.

Your back arched. His breath hitched.

“Jesus Christ,” he choked. “You feel like heaven. So tight, baby… so warm…”

When he was fully inside you, he just held there. Chest against yours. Arms wrapped around your back. His forehead pressed to yours as his hips flexed experimentally.

You whimpered. “Move—Chris—”

“I will,” he whispered, “but I want this to last.”

He kissed you again. Slow, deep. His voice was hoarse. “I wanna fuck you like I’m trying to live inside you.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

Each thrust was steady and possessive — not rushed, not wild, just deep. Intentional. Like he wanted to imprint himself in your body. Like he was making a home out of your warmth.

“You want it?” he growled into your ear. “You want me to stay?”

You nodded, gasping. “Yes—stay inside, please—don’t stop—”

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna stay buried in you until I know it worked.” His hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing your clit. “You want that? You want me to fill you up and let it drip down your thighs when I’m done?”

You cried out, legs tightening around his waist.

“Good girl,” he panted, hips starting to stutter. “Let me, baby. Let me fucking breed you.”

You came again— hot and breathless, clenching so tight he nearly sobbed.

He cursed. Slammed in one last time. And let go.

The sound he made— holy— was somewhere between a growl and a broken whimper.

And god, you felt it.

Hot, thick, so much. Filling you to the brim.

His arms were shaking as he stayed pressed against you, chest heaving, voice wrecked.

“I’m not pulling out,” he gasped. “Not yet. Can’t. Gotta keep it in. Gotta make sure it takes.”

You could feel him still twitching inside you, leaking, throbbing. Your thighs slick with a mess only he could make. And even when the high faded, he didn’t move.

Didn’t even try.

His hand moved to your belly. Fingers tracing slow, soft circles.

“You think it worked?” he asked, quietly.

“I hope so.”

He kissed your neck. “You want it?”

You nodded, fingers in his hair. “Yeah. I do.”

Chris smiled. Pressed a kiss to your stomach. “Then I’ll give it to you, baby. Every drop you need. Every night if I have to.”

You blinked up at him. “You’re still hard.”

He laughed, low and rough. “Yeah. Told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Then— without warning— he rolled his hips again.

“Chris—!”

“Shhh,” he whispered, settling deeper, hand still stroking your belly. “Just one more time, yeah? Just to be sure.”

is it just me.. or is HOT in here.. 🤭

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[leviathanspain]

you know i’m no good

jack abbot x resident!reader

synopsis: after regretting what happened between you two, you come to realize that it’s not always all about you

it was an incredible kiss. granted, jack abbot was incredible at everything he did. it shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. under the cold exterior of a jaded war vet doctor, was tenderness.

his salt and pepper hair was gripped tightly between your fingers, his hands tugging at the drawstring of your scrub pants.

you halted his hands and laughed softly, “jack-“ you said his name to grab his attention, watching as his hands fumbled nervously at the strings. you had never seen him nervous, ever. not even in the thick of it in the pitt, he hardly broke a sweat.

jack looked up and parted his lips. you put a finger to them, and helped him undo the strings.

you couldn’t remember the last time that you had worked so late. it had been a few weeks or so since your request to switch from night to day shifts. you’ve been avoiding jack. as difficult as it was, dodging his calls and crossing all your fingers and toes that you don’t run into him during shift change- you realized that you couldn’t do this forever. switching shifts was only a temporary, if you even wanted to call it one, fix.

especially when you had days like today.

it was your day off, you had been sleeping off the last twelve hour shift when your phone started going off. you answered, unaware that you would be walking into a total shitshow. a shooting had occurred at pittfest, and they needed all hands on deck. being in your last year of residency, you valued your days off like the holy grail, but you never failed to show up when needed.

“oh thank god-“ your eyes started snapping mental pictures of all the chaos around you, only settling on robby when he spoke, “mass casualty protocol. red zone, go.” he barked his orders and you nodded, not even taking a second to blink before finding the dozens of injured patients with red tags.

“dr. l/n.” his voice dragged with surprise. his expression was unreadable, and you weren’t going to start dissecting it when you had work to do. you acknowledged him, “dr. abbot, nice to see you.” there was a stiffness in your voice and he took a second before blinking, “yeah.” jack was clearly upset now, and furrowed his brows before turning back to his patient.

you cursed mentally, and cringed. you couldn’t have caught a better break than hearing your name shouted from across the pit.

it was hours until you saw jack again. you hadn’t needed his assistance, as you had stayed with robby up until one of the med students pulled you away. now you were walking back to the pit, weariness heavy on your bones. the most critical patients were moved upstairs and into surgery.

dana saw you first, waving you down, “day shifts gotta go, wrap it up and head out.” she rubbed your arm, giving you a small smile. she had noticed your mood, but didn’t push it. you’d come to her when you were ready, they always did. you nodded, and started clacking away at the nearest keyboard, adding the final touches to your patients’ charts.

“we need to talk.” you saw his veiny forearm first, slung across the counter as he planted himself behind your monitor. you pursed your lips, to help you retain your composure but also because you felt stupid for thinking that he wouldn’t confront you.

“let me finish this first.” you continued to clack away and expected him to leave but he remained in his spot. you two were going to talk, no matter what.

jack opened the door to the rooftop for you. such a gentleman, always was. even going as far as to give you his jacket, knowing you never brought your own. there was a strange taste in your mouth, realizing that he still had this kindness for you.

“i-“ you didn’t even know where to begin, “im sorry.” you wanted to fade away into his jacket, his warm yet thick jacket that he never wore. it smelled like him regardless, of his soap, his aftershave, his cologne, him.

jack didn’t say anything, just moved closer to the edge of the roof, he remained still, “what happened?” he said it like he had spent weeks trying to figure out what he did wrong. you walked towards him, staying behind the rail, and hesitantly grabbing his hand. you half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t.

“it’s me, jack.” you felt the wind blow coolly at your face. how he was not freezing was beyond you, “i don’t know. i thought i could handle it but i can’t i- i just know im no good for you, jack.” your hand clutched tightly at his. you wanted to be close to him, your body yearned for his.

even with this rail separating you, you could feel his warmth radiating. as if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned, his hand falling from yours.

you stepped back as he swung his leg over the railing. he didn’t say anything as he reached for you, grabbing at your waist and kissing you roughly. you didn’t move as you kissed him, he was desperate, hungry for you.

you pulled away, putting your hands on his chest to catch your breath. he stared at you, eyes searching in yours, until he breathed in, “that was the dumbest fuckin’ thing i’ve ever heard you say.” the serious inflection to his voice surprised you.

he shook his head, “don’t ever say that to me again, it’s bullshit and even if it was the truth, it’s too late to start caring now.” jack abbot was hooked on you, you some resident who thought it would be cool to flirt with her attending, not knowing it would end up where it did.

you laughed, a dry laugh but a laugh nonetheless. you hit his chest with a gentle force. “so you’re just forgiving me for ignoring you for weeks?” you raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head, “not after you switched shifts to get away from me.”

you couldn’t help but grin, “mm, that really was the cherry on top wasn’t it? at least i’ve been learning a lot from robby.” jack rolled his eyes and feigned jealousy, “as if that old man could teach you anything.” you scoffed, “yet somehow i continue to learn from you?” jack couldn’t help but laugh at that, grabbing you to kiss you once more.

[nostarfights]

Stay A Little Longer

Pairing: congressman!Bucky Barnes X fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky spend a quiet morning together before he has to leave for the day.

Warnings: Cuddling, kissing, established relationship, reader making Bucky late for work and a little cursing.

Word Count: 2K

a/n: i’ve been in my bucky brain rot era recently so here’s yet another bucky oneshot lol

the photos below do not belong to me

It was a quiet sunny Monday morning when you woke up, the only sounds flowing through you and Bucky’s bedroom being the soft sound of Bucky’s snoring and Alpine’s gentle purring. You felt incredibly calm as you laid next to your sweet boyfriend and cat and if you could, you’d stay here with the two of them forever. 

A smile slowly broke out across your face as you continued to lay there in your beloved spot in his arms and you relished in this moment before Bucky soon woke up, he always did as if he had some sort of sixth sense for when you woke up or left the bed. 

And just as you had predicted, his blue eyes began to slowly open a few minutes later while the sun filled the room with a warm, comforting glow. He tightened his once loose arms around you and brought your body closer to his own, prompting you to rest your head on his bare chest once more while your legs became tangled underneath the blanket on your bed.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What time is it?” he softly said, still partially half-asleep, while he placed his right hand on your cheek and slowly tilted your head up so that your eyes met his, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once they were within reach.

“Good morning. It's 6:30.” you replied in between kisses, desperately trying to stop yourself from brightly grinning as you kissed him back. 

As Bucky processed this information, a mild shocked feeling washed over him. He’d woken up before his alarm had gone off for once. But even so, he still had only an hour left to go until he would have to leave you and Alpine and go to work. But he promised himself that he would cherish every minute of the time he had left with you this morning.

—-----------------------------------

The next thirty minutes you and Bucky spent together in bed before he had to start getting ready for the day flew by and before you knew it, it was now time for him to leave your warm, soft bed, making you frown as you watched him get up. 

He opened his mouth to speak as you followed him into the kitchen, “I promise that I’ll be back in your arms before you know it.” he said with a soft smile as he walked backwards into the room, addressing the frown that was still present on your face, making that frown turn into a smirk as an idea quickly popped into your head. 

Your idea was that once Bucky sat down on your bed to get dressed, you were going to convince him to stay home with you a little while longer by running your fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp. That always got him to melt like ice in your hands. And sure, you knew that you were probably going to make him late but all you wanted was at least ten extra minutes with Bucky this morning.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked while he quickly grabbed a few things from your fridge and began to make breakfast for you and him on the stove, his back to you as that smirk on your face turned into a grin. 

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking of something funny I saw on TikTok the other day.” you explained as you leaned against the counter, trying to hold a laugh back so that you wouldn’t give yourself away.

Which worked, “Okay, doll, if you say so.” Bucky said, dragging out the last word as a grin rolled out across his own lips. He didn’t believe you, knowing that you were probably plotting something, but he let it go anyway.

Soon enough, Bucky was done making the quick breakfast he whipped up for the two of you each weekday morning. He then carried your two plates over to your living room, setting them down on the coffee table while you followed and sat down next to him.

And as you sat there, your thighs touching due to how close you were to each other, you spoke again, “What’re you getting up to today?” you asked him, making him smile as he told you about all of his plans for the day. 

From the boring meeting he had to attend in a few hours to the speech he had to prepare this afternoon, you listened intently to every single thing he told you in this moment as you leaned back on the couch and rested one of your legs over his. And once he was done speaking, you told him about your own plans today and how you’d been dreading the presentation you were supposed to give today. 

“I’m sure it’ll go great, doll and if it doesn’t, I’m always just one phone call away.” he reassured you as he held out his pinky, prompting you to take it in yours and shake your two fingers together.

“I know, I’m just nervous is all.” you explained, eliciting an understanding nod from him as you looked into his eyes. 

Once you were both done eating breakfast not long after this conversation ended, Bucky picked up both plates and set them down in the sink as you followed him into the bathroom, he’d deal with the dishes later when he got home from work that evening. 

You admired his reflection in the mirror as he combed out his shoulder length hair and as much as you loved his short hair as well, seeing him with longer hair made you feel as if you were falling in love with him all over again. It reminded you of how he looked when you first met him all those years ago.

And while Bucky started to brush his teeth a few minutes later, thoughts of you easily began to fill his mind. 

He thought about how gentle, understanding and loving you’d always been with him, especially when you first met. He thought about the slow, quiet mornings you’d spent together like this one and how they included some of his favorite moments he’s ever spent with you. He thought about the first time he ever told you that he loved you and how you were able to make him feel human again.

As soon as he was done getting ready in the bathroom, he then followed you out to the kitchen where you started to make his lunch for today, a simple pb&j sandwich. Your cheeks blushed as he appeared behind you and pressed kisses to your cheeks and neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist and you cut the crusts off of the bread. “Bucky!” you softly said as you held back a smile, making him laugh a little.

He had never forced you to make him lunch, he was completely fine with doing it himself and you knew that but insisted on it anyway. You wanted to do something nice for him, something that would remind him of you whenever he opened his lunchbox in his office during his break.

When you finished preparing the sandwich a few minutes later, you safely placed it in a sandwich bag, put it inside his lunch box where his water bottle already resided and zipped it shut. Now that that was done with, you then walked with Bucky back to your bedroom and picked out his clothes for the day, a white undershirt, a white button up that always hugged his muscles in a way that made your heart pound, a black blazer and black dress pants.

You watched him with admiration in your eyes once more as he sat down on the edge of the bed and started to get undressed, the clothes he’d picked out now sitting folded up next to him. He looked so handsome, breathtakingly so. You wanted to stare at him forever as if he was going to disappear the second you looked away from him.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked as he buttoned his shirt up, a shy smile on his face as you sat down next to him and began to run your fingers through his soft hair.

“Nothing, I’m just so in love with you, Bucky.” you told him, causing his cheeks to blush as he looked at you and took your free hand in his. 

As you spoke, you let your fingers sink down to his roots and started to massage Bucky’s scalp, making his eyes shut almost right away. This feeling as well as your presence always comforted him and made him feel safe. Like he could finally let his tense shoulders drop for once and all his worries melt away. 

“Stay a little longer? Please.” you asked as you inched yourself closer to him, resting your legs over his once again.

“Whatever you want, baby.” he muttered in response as he let himself fall back onto the mattress below him, no longer caring that he had to leave for work in five minutes.

And as you laid down with him, your head resting on his chest and your hand still in his hair, Bucky felt himself grow sleepy almost in an instant.

You’d always been great at relaxing him, making him wish for just a second that he hadn’t given into the feeling of your hand in his hair but he did it anyway because even though he knew he’d end up being late, he hated being away from you so he was perfectly content with being a little late as long as that meant he got to be with you for longer. 

He was so in love with you and would do anything to spend every single minute he had to spare with you, no matter if it got him in trouble at work or with his friends. He would do whatever he possibly could to ensure that you were always happy.

The longer you laid there together, the sleepier the two of you became and soon enough you started to doze off. But all too soon fifteen minutes after you initially laid down with him, Bucky’s phone started to loudly ring from its spot on his bedside table, causing you both to abruptly wake up. His assistant, Chris, was calling him. 

He then sleepily reached as far as he could and retrieved his phone, “Hello?” Bucky said as you sat up, his sleepiness very evident in his voice.

“Sir, where are you? The meeting starts in twenty minutes!” Bucky’s assistant said, making him perk immediately.

“Right, shit. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there soon.” Bucky replied before he then hung up and started to finish getting ready.

A frown appeared on Bucky’s face once he became fully dressed, “I’m so sorry, doll but I gotta go.” he explained, now standing in front of where you were still sitting on the bed as he slipped his shoes on. You frowned back at him as you stood up, you knew your plan wouldn’t keep him home for long but you were still sad to see him go.

“It’s okay, we’ll see each other again soon.” you replied as you softly smiled at him and fixed his messy hair. 

“I’ll call you on my lunch break, okay?” he promised as you walked over to your front door with him, grabbing his bag for him on the way there.

“Okay, Bucky. I love you.” you told him while you stood up on your tippy toes a little and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he replied after he’d kissed you back, his arms wrapped tightly around you, making you blush for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

And before you could completely close the front door once Bucky was out in the hallway just moments later after your drawn out goodbye, he blew you a kiss through the crack in the door. “I love you, baby!” he said somewhat loudly while he started to walk away, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps as you giggled. 

Now that he was gone, it was time for you to get ready for your own job and finally feed a now hungry, screaming Alpine.

NAVIGATION send me a request!

[silentcaps]

They found out someone hurt you

tags: hurt/comfort, reader trauma, protective partner

cast: cyno, razor, scaramouche x fem!reader

tw: emotional distress, implied harassment

side b: barbara, diluc, itto

CYNO

His colleagues glance at him and smile — like they already know everything. Even the things he doesn’t. Cyno is surprised that bits and pieces of the situation reach him through work chatter, the noise of the Grand Bazaar, and even from patrols deep in the forest — but never from you. It’s as if you don’t trust him enough to share your troubles. And even if that thought cuts deeper than he lets on, Cyno respects your choice and doesn’t bring it up himself. Instead, to keep from overthinking and spiraling, he throws himself into tracking the perpetrator — a real hunt. After all, no one escapes justice when it comes from the General Mahamatra.

Still, he can’t avoid the subject entirely. When he sees you again, he mentions that the criminal has been caught, hoping it’ll bring you some relief. But what he sees instead is pain flickering across your face — and that stuns him.

“Did I do something wrong? Should I not have gotten involved?”

He doesn’t understand your reaction. Maybe he should’ve stayed close, offered comfort instead? But it seemed like you were keeping the issue from him on purpose — to process it in your own space and time.

“I thought… it would hurt your reputation. You care about it so much…”

When Cyno hears the anxious thoughts you’ve been wrestling with all this time, something shifts. He cups your cheeks, catches your gaze, and says with quiet certainty:

“No, of course not… I wouldn’t turn my back on you just to protect my reputation. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Though not someone used to touch, Cyno opens his arms for you — and doesn’t let go until you’re the one to pull away.

RAZOR

Raised by the laws of the wild, Razor doesn’t quite understand why what happened has shaken you so deeply. But he tries to comfort you. Slowly, step by step, he moves closer and tilts his head, gently nudging your shoulder like a she-wolf nuzzling her pup. The silence that follows — your total lack of response — unsettles him more than anything else in the world. A low whine, full of frustration at his own helplessness, escapes from his chest. Razor curls up at your feet, keeping just enough distance to not intrude, but refusing to leave your side. Whatever caused this pain doesn’t matter to him right now. What matters is that you’re hurting. And he’s made it his duty to bring back your sunshine smile and that voice that rings like a bell.

Later, Razor goes to Lisa with questions. After a patient and thorough explanation, after the truth settles in, his fists clench until his knuckles turn white, and his teeth grind together. He grabs his claymore, ready to tear the whole city apart if that’s what it takes to find the monster responsible. He doesn’t fully understand why, but the image of someone’s hands touching you without your permission drives him insane. There’s nothing he can do about it — not directly — but Lisa promises to look into it and talk to Jean to make sure no one else gets hurt.

He returns to your home. The curtains are drawn, everything’s untouched, and you’re buried under heavy blankets. It’s clear you haven’t left your room or eaten all day. Razor sits on the edge of the bed to let you know he’s there, and in a voice cracked with emotion, he says the only thing that feels right:

“I only have Lupical. I protect my Lupical. No one hurt. I fight for Lupical. Keep safe. I want make you feel good. Food gives strength. Makes happy. I make meat. Tasty smell.”

SCARAMOUCHE

Scaramouche doesn’t deal well with tears. During arguments, the moment he notices them, he either sends you away or walks off himself. It doesn’t make him a terrible person — some emotions just hit too hard and leave him feeling powerless.

“Calm down and explain it properly, I can’t make sense of your whining.”

That line comes up a lot. Not because he wants to hurt you — but because that’s how he tries to get to the point and help. Fix the problem. Give you money. Beat someone up. But not offer soft words. And definitely not hugs.

But today is different. Your cheeks are soaked in tears, and you don’t even seem to notice. You’re staring off, empty. Scaramouche forces himself to step closer. He asks what happened. And as he pieces together the broken parts of your story, something inside him snaps. Some pathetic insect thought they had the right to touch you — the parts of you that belong to him, wholly and without question.

Between shaky breaths, you confess that you can still feel it — those touches clinging to your skin like filth that won’t wash off.

“Show me where.”

His cool, familiar fingers follow wherever you point. He presses, massages, grounding you with each motion. Then he leans in and kisses every inch of skin you marked, slow and deliberate — replacing the memory of someone else's hands with his own, painting over it, erasing it.

“Imagine it’s only me touching you. Nothing else. No one else.”

He’ll find the bastard later — drag them out from under the earth if he has to — but right now, helping you is all that matters.

[howlingguardian]

I think I'm going to do some worldbuilding on my superhero idea.

In a fairly typical superpower setting- costumed heroes and villains, the occasional giant monster, etc, plumber and single father Frank Bennett comes home from work one day to see a costumed woman standing in his apartment.

Naturally, he freaks- until said spandex-clad stranger transforms back into his 12 year old daughter Tammy, who excitedly holds up a drawing of the superhero she was a second ago. She'd discovered that she has the power to create drawings that can transform you into the subject of the drawing, complete with powers, for a limited time.

The next step is obvious- she's young, powerful, and driven by an innocent desire to do good like the heroes on the news. She's going to be a superhero.

Absolutely not, says Frank.

They argue massively, before Frank sends her to her room to try and think. Left to himself, he realises that she's too determined to be persuaded easily, and he can't keep her away from paper and pencils for the rest of her life. But he also doesn't want his baby girl running around doing some daring do, even if she signs up with a superhero team- and he's not eager for that, because there are stories about child superheros having the same problems as other child celebrities. So what's the solution?

Frank knocks on Tammy's door, and offers her a deal- no superheroics for herself until she's 18 and ready to make her own decisions. In exchange, he'll take her drawings and do the hero stuff himself.

Tammy likes the idea- what kid doesn't secretly imagine their parent as a hero at some point- and eagerly shows him her drawings and her ideas for various superheroes.

The thing is, most of the heroes in this setting are pretty grounded; less capes and more body armour. Whereas Tammy's ideas are more like something out of cartoons, or the stuff an excitable 12 year old would come up with.

Thus, over the next 6 years, the inhabitants of the city of Steelhaven are absolutely baffled by multicoloured goofballs with powers even odder than usual showing up out of nowhere for a day to help with whatever problem's going on- guys like Caffeinator the coffee-fuelled speedster, or Demo Dino the cyborg pachycephalosaurus construction worker, or Kanga-Fu the martial arts master from Down Under.

And then there's Yo-Yo Master. Nobody is forgetting Yo-Yo Master.

Over the years, Tammy's art skills improve, and her various teenage phases and personal life crises influence her art- her emo phase results in a rash of gloomy heroes with way too much eyeliner, while her love of fantasy books give rise to friendly ogres and benevolent minotaurs.

And Frank has to buck up and slip into the body and powers of all of them. Nobody ever said it was easy parenting a teenage superhero!

[thermalflower]

What the Vent Sees

this is also posted on my ao3 lilac_ashes

minors dni

Warnings: afab reader, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, pronouns for reader are not specified, just specifically the genitals that are referred to.

He spent days watching you, going about your daily routine, working, and more. Even the times that would normally be private, you couldn’t see him, didn’t know he wasnt “just” an air con unit, that he was more and desperately in love with you, despite himself knowing it could never be requited. So he settled with watching you.

Watching you as your hands run down your body, caressing yourself on your bed unaware he was there, these were the times he was also ashamed for watching you through. Watching as you give yourself pleasure, a pleasure which he would rather give to you somehow.

Sometimes, just sometimes, you would pause for a moment and glance in the general direction of the vent in your room, unknowingly briefly making eye contact with Hector. Some part of you could feel his gaze but the logical side of your brain was telling you there’s no one there. Then, you would carry on like you hadn’t just made Hector’s heart leap out of his chest and his dick throb within its confines.

And then one day you got the glasses, you discovered the other objects and who they really were. Soon enough you found Hector in the vents, you reciprocated his flirting, showed positive responses to his words. Never once did you pressure him to show himself before he was ready.

The only difference, you hadn’t touched yourself in a few days since discovering all of this, adjusting to the knowledge, getting to know all these people you never knew were in your own home took the energy out of you so when it came to the time you might have masturbated, you didnt. You slept.

Until one day you didn’t, you had lightly tapped on the vent first, no special glasses on, but you knew it would get his attention. He had recently admitted to having watched you masturbate, told you how it affected him, and the way that had affected you after hearing those descriptions? You hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it all day. So you made a plan, to give Hector a show that he could see without feeling ashamed of it.

Before you had tapped on the vent you had slipped a note inside that simply said “watch me” with a heart drawn next to it.

Once you felt like he should be there watching you started slowly slipping out of your clothes, piece by piece, running your hands up and down your body slowly. Grabbing at your breasts before tossing the top you were wearing to the side, facing the vent and teasing yourself, squeezing them and rubbing over your nipples slowly, all for him to see.

Next you moved onto your shorts, turning around and slowly taking them off, bending at an angle that would hopefully give him a view of the wet patch on your underwear. A simple hand gesture pointing at that patch and then towards the vent, a silent way of saying “You did this to me”, a message he understands very very quickly. He restrains himself for taking his dick out to touch himself, this show is for him after all, he doesnt want to touch himself at least until you’re touching yourself first.

You play with your clit through your underwear, gradually making the wet patch bigger as youre still bent, leaning onto the bed for support as you do. Slowly rubbing and lightly pinching at it, your breathing becoming uneven before eventually turning into soft quiet moans. You move your fingers under your underwear, slipping two inside your wet pussy, slowly pumping in and out.

He watches as you finger yourself while he starts to palm the tent in his underwear, a dark patch becoming visible through them from his pre cum. You change position so you’re now lay back on the bed, legs bent and feet balanced right at the edge of it and quickly slip out of your underwear. It’s even more noticeable just how wet you actually are now as he can see it glisten on your pussy.

Your hand is quick to slip back inside you, 2 fingers pumping in and out of you. Another hand starts playing with one of your nipples again when you feel a sudden gust of cold air coming from the vent, making both your nipples stand from the cold. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask, knowing you won’t get a verbal answer but another short gust of cold air confirms it for you, he’s watching and enjoying everything he sees.

Watching your fingers pump in and out over and over has him stroking his dick at the same pace, staying at whatever pace you set for youself. Hearing your soft moans has his dick throbbing and leaking more pre cum, himself holding his own sounds back simply to hear you. Every sound and movement you make has him captivated at every second, his eyes glued to yours, your own locked onto the vent whenever you have them open.

You spread your legs a bit wider and take the hand that was playing with your nipples and start using it to play with your clit again instead, your moans becoming louder as your pace increases, occasionally a moan of Hector’s name will come out, the sound being music to his ears and also something that has him pause for a moment simply to prevent himself from cumming right then and there. He won’t cum, not until you do, he wants to match the timing of it as best as he can.

Your legs start to tremble a bit, pace becoming a bit uneven and faster as you get closer to your release, you shift position again, opening your legs as far as they’ll go so Hector gets the best view he can have from the vents. His own pace increases matching your own, being careful not to cum before you, so he can enjoy all you have to show him, and for the first time he’s able to enjoy it without that feeling of shame he used to get before the glasses. Oh how grateful he is that those glasses came into your life when they did.

He can tell you’re close, you know you’re close. You try to keep your pace as even as possible, pushing yourself closer and closer to cumming. Another moan of his name, a spasm of your body as you push yourself over the edge and he’s following suit. He loves this, loves you, and one thing he didn’t expect to hear tonight, from your lips, is something he does hear, you, breathlessly saying “I love you” while looking straight at the vent, this time, with the glasses on. From the vent you hear a quiet “I love you too, goodnight y/n” before you take the glasses off, move yourself up the bed and get under the covers to sleep.

One day he’ll be able to be the one giving you the pleasure, one day when he’s comfortable showing you himself, but for now he’s more than happy with this.

[thatchrollostan]

Levi might not say it outright, but if you've been so busy that it's been a long time since you've spent quality time together, it definitely shows

he’s not a man who sits around doing nothing. he's always occupied. if he has work, he’s at work. if he doesn’t, he’s cleaning the house or enjoying his hobbies. but if he has the luxury of free time, he’d much rather spend it with you, doing anything at all.

still, if you’re the busier one, or if it’s one of those seasons when coffee and energy drinks are your constant companions, he starts to miss you. a lot. he just doesn’t say it, afraid you’d sacrifice your priorities for his sake, which he doesn’t think would be fair. whether it’s your job or your classes, he wants you to focus on your responsibilities

…but that doesn’t mean he can't miss you, right?

it’s been days since the last time you two hung out, and you’ll notice him quietly sitting in the same room as you while you’re on a hot date with your papers and laptop. he’ll sip tea or read a book, staying close. if you’re still working by the time he’s done waiting, he’ll leave to cook dinner and let you know when it’s ready. you’ll say “okay,” and he’ll wait at the dining table for you, not touching his food until it’s gone cold.

eventually, he’ll remind you about dinner, and you’ll mumble, “oh shit, sorry, i forgot,” glancing back at your laptop with guilt. Levi will look at you and sigh, then leave to bring your dinner over to you, settling back into his spot while he eats his own meal

hours later, he’ll come back to collect your empty plate and wash it, figuring he might as well tidy up the house, too, deliberately doing it slowly so he's occupied. by the time he’s finished, he considers going back to sit with you, but decides against it, worried he might be distracting you. so he heads to the bedroom and waits

11 PM

midnight.

1 AM

he can’t sleep. restlessness has him adjusting the frames in your shared bedroom at least twenty times, staring into the clean mirror five times, and doing pointless little tasks just to keep himself busy

it’s not until 2 AM that you finally come back, looking utterly exhausted and tense. you can almost see his ears perk up at the sight of you, even if his face stays impassive.

“Come on. I've changed the sheets and everything,” Levi says, beckoning you over and offering his hand. You take it with a weary sigh, already missing him, and climb into bed beside him. He pulls the covers over both of you and holds you close.

“Anything you want to tell me about today?” he asks gently.

You smile faintly and shake your head. “Nothing remarkable. Just work and more work.”

“I could tell.”

Then he showers you with kisses all over your face and hair, and you can feel just how much he’s missed you. It’s only at bedtime that he finally gets to have you all to himself

You fall asleep first, leaving Levi awake a while longer, savoring the feeling of holding you, knowing that tomorrow, your packed schedule will steal you away all over again.

[sentrytruther]

I'll Just Let You Live

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/F!Reader

Notes: I didn't think I'd write again so soon, but here we are. Also I'm a sassy Bob truther, he didn't call John an asshole in thunderbolts just for y'all to characterize him as an uwu!soft boy. Any way I've never actually written for Bucky which is a SHAME because i've loved him ever since CA:TFA.

Warnings: Insane levels of yearning. implies smut once but nothing r rated is ever written, just a kiss. Implies past abusive relationships but nothing is ever detailed. No use of Y/N. Light cursing.

Characters: The Thunderbolts, Bucky Barnes

WC: 2.5k

Summary: “And if you hold me without hurting me/you’ll be the first who ever did,”

Let Down by Radiohead. Listen to the og version and then the choir version on Youtube. You will ascend.

Bucky Barnes allows a smile to grace his lips, just a small one. The ‘will’ was underlined four times, and he almost snorts at the vision of her furiously underlining the word. Carefully, he sets the note down. If anyone else were to walk in on him, they’d wonder why he was treating a piece of paper that was clearly torn off an old envelope like it was a state secret. They’d never know this was his favorite part of the day; reading her song recommendations before he went on with his day.

He doesn’t remember when it started, only that the routine had become everything to him. He thinks it may have been in Wakanda, when he’d quietly stated he was ready to catch up on everything he’d missed. He’d been too focused on survival and remembering who he was in the two years since Steve had liberated him from HYDRA to really care about everything else he’d missed out on. But sitting with her in his hut, he’d allowed himself the rare moment of vulnerability and asked for help.

She’d nodded, a slow smile stretching across her face. “We’ll start off from what you remember from the forties and go on from there,”

At one point, he’d started waking up to a note at the kitchen table with a song recommendation. At first, they were from the era he was studying. But as time went on, she started straying from that model, too excited to share her favorite music to stick to a certain era.

Every time he remembers how she’d left the entire Mamma Mia soundtrack as a recommendation, he cracks up. He still pretends to hate it, just to see her offended look and hear her TED talk about how it was actually the greatest soundtrack-and movie- of all time.

Maybe one day he’d tell her he’d damn near cried listening to Slipping Through My Fingers. What can he say? Meryll Streep knew how to pull a man’s deepest emotions out of him.

He doesn’t remember when he started leaving his own recommendations. Just knows that he started to jog down his own in the morning for her to find later. Even if she already knew the song, he could sometimes hear it playing from her room in the evenings before she went to bed. It became a way for them to communicate, the music conveying emotions they were too scared to talk about, or even face.

He grabbed his headphones and plugged them into his ears, pulling out his phone to bring up Spotify and type in Let Down. He’d write down his own contribution to their silent conversation only after listening to the song she wanted him to hear.

Later on Bob would tell the team that he swears he saw Bucky Barnes blinking tears out of his eyes when he came back from his morning jog. No one would believe him, except one team member who knew he was telling the truth.

After all, she’d seen him tear up while listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack once.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

She waited until he left the kitchen to check the counter. Since he left them in the morning, she could always check right after he left, but that wasn’t what they did. She waited until night. And he knew that.

Hallelujah but specifically Jeff Buckley’s cover. P.S. Quit trying to make me cry, it’ll never work.

She laughed, fondness seeping from the spaces between her ribs. It was kind of silly how their routine worked. He’d write his recommendation in the morning and leave it for her to find before bed. She’d leave hers once she’d found his. It’s not a system they’d ever had a discussion about, but they stuck to it religiously. If one was ever out on a mission or had to be away for a while, they’d make sure to send a quick text-even if they were supposed to be radio silent. Not a day had gone by that they hadn’t left a song recommendation for the other.

Well, there was the blip, but they let each other off the hook with that.

She’d heard the song before, it was one of her favorites and he knew it. She’d even heard that cover before. It didn’t matter, catching Bucky up to the 21st century wasn’t the goal anymore. It was about telling the other that they were still thinking of them, telling each other what they were feeling. And sometimes, reminding the other to take a minute and listen to their favorites. To take a breath. After she’d scribbled out her recommendation for him to read the next morning, already having picked her song out once she saw his suggestion, she retreated to her room and plugged her phone into the speaker. The song filled up the empty spaces.

A knock interrupted Jeff Buckley’s voice. She opened the door to an exasperated Yelena.

“Shit, sorry Lena. I didn’t realize the music was too loud-,”

“When are you idiots going to profess your undying love to each other?”

Her eyes widened, eyes darting to Bucky’s door, which was only one door over. She pulled Yelena in, heart hammering in her chest despite the fact that he was probably asleep by now.

“His room is right there, Yelena,” She hissed. “Could you be any louder?”

Yelena grinned, a big and toothy one that spelled trouble. “I could, actually,” then, to her horror, she watched as Yelena opened the door, widened her stance, and cupped her hands around her mouth. “When are Bucky Barnes and-,”

“YELENA!” She shouted, much louder than even Yelena had been, and pulled her back inside. “That wasn’t a fucking invitation!”

Yelena was heartily laughing, “I thought it was pretty funny actually,”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, flopping back onto her bed. “You’re an actual menace. What do you want?”

Still giggling, Yelena plopped next to her. “I came here because of your song recommendation. Are you trying to profess your love or tell him you’re about to stalk him?”

Her nose scrunched up. “What?”

“Every breath you take?” Yelena replied.

She shrugged. “Oh, that. Bucky likes The Police,”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “He only likes them because he associates them with you,”

“Is that bad?” Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but only because she can tell Yelena’s are scanning her facial expressions.

“No,” Yelena said slowly. “I’m just pointing out the obvious,”

She doesn’t answer, because yeah, she knew that.

“I can’t tell him, Yelena,” She’s curled up in a ball now. “It’ll ruin everything,”

“Some things are meant to be ruined,” Is all Yelena says before getting up. “I lied earlier, I did come because of the music. Now turn that shit down, you know Bob has sensitive hearing,”

“Right, sorry,”

She tries to go to sleep after Jeff Buckley’s rendition is over, but she can’t. She blames him for wrecking her mental state, but deep down she knows that’s not true.

Some things are meant to be ruined.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Every Step You Take by The Police. Oldie but goodie (like you :p) P.S. I’ve already made you cry, if Bob’s to be believed.

Bucky grins at her note, but it’s short lived. Something odd pulls at his chest, the same feeling he’s been burying for years. But that’s the thing about love, it demands to be felt, to be seen, to be heard. You can run from it all you want, but it’ll catch you. Sometimes at the most random places, like now, in the kitchen on a random Tuesday morning at 6 a.m.

Sometimes you slip out of its grasp and go on the run again. Sometimes you look it in the face and try to lie to both yourself and it. “You’re not love,” but your voice cracks and your hands tremble. And sometimes, you shrug and grin. “You caught me,”

Bucky doesn’t want to run, but it’s become an excruciating instinct at this point. He runs because she runs, bolts at the mere suggestion of something more between them. She’s scared, she’s been burned in the cruelest of ways, and Bucky’s a patient man. But he feels the ache in his bones and he doesn’t think he can keep denying this any longer.

So he scribbles out a song before he can second guess it. He hides it under the same junk pile that their not-so-secret notes always get put under. He pulls up the song and goes for the same jog he’s gone on every morning since Wakanda.

And he hopes that this time, she won’t run.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

I’m Not in Love by 10cc.

She reads it. She reads it again.

He’s never done this.

He always leaves a little note behind, especially if they’re having a faux argument. She expected him to outright deny her accusation and leave behind a silly song to make her laugh. Or maybe a song he knew would make her cry real tears just to get back at her.

But not this. Never this.

In her heart she knows what this is. How could she not? They’ve been dancing around the weight of their unspoken feelings for years now. There had been close calls, nights where the words fought to spill out from behind her teeth. In alleyways after a close call with an enemy where his hands brushed too close to hers, both of their hands trembling from the sheer yearning. In hugs that lingered too long after too much time had been spent away from the other.

But she was so damned afraid.

And it wasn’t because she’d been hurt before, though she had and badly. It wasn’t because she was afraid he didn’t love her the way she loved him, that idea had been eviscerated when Sam told her Bucky didn’t look at any one else the way he looked at her. No, it was because she’d never felt like this, never loved like this before.

She never got to keep the things she loved.

But then, neither had he. And wasn’t she always telling him he deserved to?

Love had found her unsuspecting on a random Tuesday night. No, love had always been right there, hadn’t it? She was just accepting it, finally.

With shaking hands, she wrote down her recommendation.

She wouldn’t run anymore.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When she came out of her room the next morning, it was 8 a.m and Bucky Barnes was waiting for her. She almost booked it right back to her room.

But she didn’t. Well okay, she did turn around, but then remembered the quiet promise she’d made to herself the night before, and turned to face him once more.

There was amusement in his gaze, but also apprehension. “I thought you didn’t like Lana Del Rey,”

She shrugged, trying, and failing, to act nonchalant. “I don’t dislike her, it’s just most of her music isn’t for me,”

He nodded, and she soaked in the small smile on his face. It truly felt better than the morning rays of the sun settling into her skin. He took a sip of his coffee before addressing her once more. “But this one did it for you?”

She wishes she could be confident, but all she can manage is a soft little smile. “I’ll hand it to her, this one was a masterpiece,” She hesitated before continuing. “It said all of the things I could never say,”

His smile grew wider, and she instantly chastised herself for not confessing sooner. She thought she’d seen all sides of Bucky Barnes. The good, the bad, and the ugly. But this side? The one that was in love? Yeah, this was the best version. And she could’ve had it sooner if she wasn’t such a coward. “Yeah?”

She giggled at the lovesick look on his face, one she was no doubt reciprocating. “Yeah,”

Slowly, he stood until he was right in front of her, his eyes scanning her face. It occurred to her he was committing her stupid smile to memory, the same as she’d done to him. The thought relaxed her instantly. His arms came up to cradle her face before leaning down and pressing his lips delicately to hers. Always treating her like a porcelain doll. Not because he thought she was weak, but because she deserved the gentle treatment after everything she’d faced in life.

“How about I tell you my song recommendation right now,” He whispers, his breath fanning across her face. He looked like it’d pained him to pull away from her face. Or maybe she was projecting because she sure as hell felt pained that he wasn’t kissing her anymore.

“Sure,” she whispered back, anything to get him to kiss her again.

“Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls,” He replied. “Just in case you didn’t get what I was saying the first time,”

She couldn’t help but laugh. That was another one of her favorites. “I’m not that stupid, Barnes,”

“Says the girl who thinks I cry to Radiohead of all things,”

“And Mamma Mia. Now shut up and kiss me again,”

“I could leave you here to stew in your wrongness, but lucky for you I can’t go another second without kissing you,”

She rolled her eyes “How benevolent of you,”

“I’m so glad you recognize that, baby,”

And then he kissed her.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bonus:

The team shuffled into the kitchen after the pair had not-so-secretly snuck into Bucky’s room. Not interested in hearing what was going on in there, they instead decided to see what song she’d recommended that had gotten them over their sweet-but unbearable- yearning phase.

“I am so glad that’s over,” Ava groaned, unabashedly sipping Bucky’s forgotten coffee. She was the only one in the tower who took it like he did.

“No kidding, if I had to keep watching them stare at each other like forbidden lovers I was gonna fucking lose it,” Yelena added.

Alexei shrugged. “It was sweet, as all young love should be!”

“Isn’t Bucky, like, one hundred and fifty years old?” Bob asked. “Pretty sure that’s actually called ‘robbing the cradle.”

“One hundred and ten, actually,” Alexei replied. “But ah, you know what I meant!”

“Well I’m also relieved they finally confessed. I didn’t feel like watching a Jane Austen novel play out while in the gym,” John grumbled. “How am I supposed to focus on leg day while they’re eye fucking each other?”

“Why do we let you talk?” Yelena genuinely inquired. She gingerly moved the stack of junk mail the pair used to hide what she fondly referred to as the ‘love notes’.

“Pretty sure they didn’t fuck in Jane Austen novels,” Bob quietly tacked on.

Ava laughed despite herself. “What song did she recommend?”

Yelena smiled as her eyes scanned the paper. “Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey,”

[glassphinix]

no one asked but i have headcanon ages for every kid in skyrim

because you cannot convince me every single kid in skyrim is 10-11 years old

CANONICAL AGES

babette, dark brotherhood: 10 (physically. says she was bit by a vampire when she was 10)

haming, froki's shack: 11 ("i'm 11 years old and i could take you")

aventus aretino, windhelm: 10 ("you are to report to Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, where you will reside until your sixteenth birthday. [...] The Aretino family home in the city of Windhelm will, of course, remain your property. The building will be securely locked and ready for your return six years hence.")

lavinia, falkreath: 9 (her dad, mathies says "she hadn't seen her 10th winter")

WHITERUN HOLD

dorthe, riverwood: 11-12 ("i'm not a baby anymore! i'm almost a woman!" reads to me like she's almost a teenager)

frodnar, riverwood: 13-14 (cause aint no way is hroki of markarth the only teenager in the damn country)

frothar, dragonsreach: 11-12 (eldest of balgruuf's kids, but not old enough to train with a sword)

dagny, dragonsreach: 10-11 (balgruuf's middle child, spoiled as heeeell. has the obnoxiousness i woulda had around that age)

nelkir, dragonsreach: 9-10 (seems a little too edgy/mature to be any younger. plus he's a bastard child so his birthday might be closer to dagny's than expected)

braith, whiterun: 10-11 (old enough to have a crush on lars)

lars battle-born: 11-12 (considered wimpy for his age)

mila valentia, whiterun: 8-9 (old enough to be working a fruit stall with her single mom, but probably does light-ish work)

lucia, whiterun: 6-7 (young enough to have been deemed useless and thrown out)

sissel and britte, rorikstead: 5-6 (idk. vibes. everyone says theyre growing really fast, lemkil is irrationally angry at them for being useless, britte is savagely obnoxious in the way only a kid who doesnt know its wrong yet could be)

HJAALMARCH (which is really just to say morthal)

agni: 8-9 (old enough to be practicing magic, young enough to be a bit socially naive and gullible)

helgi: 4-5 (talks in a more simplistic way. though that could be a result of her being a ghost)

joric: 10-11 (vibes. idk 10-11 is kinda the default and i dont have a good read on this kid)

virkmund: 5-6 (too young to understand who the stormcloaks are and his dad won't tell him his mom died)

THE REACH

erith, left hand mine: 9-10 (naive but kind)

adara, markarth: 12-13 (old enough to be training as a silversmith/run a jewelery stall if her mom dies, young enough to be considered a bit of a prodigy. at least in her parent's eyes?)

hroki, markarth: 16-17 (honorable mention. she's the only adult in the game with the child class?? i think the implication is that she's a teen)

fjotra, karthwasten: 15-16 (speaks in a noticeably more formal/mature way than other kids. plus 16 is peak protagonist/being chosen by the gods age)

skuli, old hroldan: 14-15 (mature enough to help run the inn and hire leontius if his mom dies, but not old enough to live by himself. blrrgh dialogue calls him mature for his age but i still think skyrim needs more teenagers. maybe he's just baby-faced, his mom says "he may LOOK young, but he can handle any drunks)

HAAFINGAR

minette vinius, solitude: 9-10 (knows a lot about booze but innuendos go over her head)

kayd, solitude: 11-12 (just has twelvie energy)

svari, solitude: 9-10 (idk thats how old my oldest sister was when our dad died. Vibes. help me)

knud, katla's farm: 8-9 (old enough for it to be clear he's not good at reading. also i just realised he doesnt play with or acknowledge blaise, thats lame)

blaise, katla's farm: 12-13 (old enough to be working as a stablehand, emotionally mature but that could be bc hes an orphan. could also be why he and knud don't play together, they're just not in the same age bracket)

clinton lylvieve, dragon bridge: 6-7 (old enough to realise olda's only happy with her husband's brother, too young to be tactful with that knowledge)

THE ORPHANAG-- I MEAN THE RIFT

hroar, honorhall: 7-8 (vibes. he cries often enough for it to piss grelod off. which isnt saying much)

francois beaufort, honorhall: 5-6 (old enough to remember his parents promised to pick him up, but naive enough/hasnt been there for long enough to realise they were lying)

samuel, honorhall: 12-13 (irreverent and self-sufficient, leader-ish to the other orphans. he's giving adolescent)

runa fair-shield, honorhall: 9-10 (old enough to start thinking about murder after grelod dies lol)

gralnach, heartwood mill: 13-14 (very keen to fight you if needs must, plus his mom trusts him to cut down trees unsupervised)

EASTMARCH

sofie, windhelm: 10-11 (very clear and self-sufficient)

grimvar, windhelm: 9-10 (a little bit naive/excitable. weh. idk im tired)

hrefna, darkwater crossing: 7-8 (uses pretty blunt/simple language to describe morrowind)

THE NAME'S HOLD. WINTERHOLD. WINTERHOLD HOLD

assur: 6-7 (young enough to take his dad's word on everything and blindly parrot his elf racism)

eirid: 5-6 (seems at least a little younger than assur)

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DAWNSTAR AND SOLSTHEIM BOTH ONLY HAVE ONE KID (+bonus kids from a random encounter)

alesan, dawnstar: 15-16 (it kind of sounds like him and his dad were just ditched in dawnstar. is he even from skyrim? it's not explicitly said one way or the other and he doesnt seem as desperate to be adopted as other orphans)

aeta, skaal village: 9-10 (not old enough to hunt, but antsy to start)

sond, somewhere close to deep folk crossing i guess: 10-11 (sells you stuff)

bottar, same as sond: 10-11 (idk these two are Husks. i dont think this kid even says anything)

[midnight--sadness]

Gihun gets out of the games with the baby, Inho kills the VIP's and blows up the island, they sit in Junho's car while being driven back to Seoul. Junho still has questions but seeing his brother and Mr. Seong's condition he decides to leave it for now. Maybe some other day he'll get answers.

Inho takes Gihun and the baby back to his condo. The first weeks are very difficult, Gihun not trusting Inho. His mind is on autopilot, never leaving the baby alone. Hating him for everything he did. But slowly they start to warm up. They talk. They find out about each other - interests, hobbies, childhood memories, etc. In the midst of it all... They find forgiveness. Actually, it's Inho who gets it from Gihun. And he is so lucky. So grateful.

Gihun starts to eat food again. He gains weight, his hair gets longer, his mood gets better. All the while he takes care of the baby like she was always his own daughter.

Inho is glad that Gihun is feeling like himself again. He wants to tell Gihun how much he loves him and... he looks very good with a baby in his arms.

One night when the baby is asleep, Inho and Gihun were watching a movie together. But as they watched, they looked deeply into each other. It started with a soft kiss... until it deepened. It got very heated, all tongue and teeth. Inho carried Gihun all the way to their bedroom. Pent up feelings, frustrations, it made them peeling off their clothes a quick work. Inho touches Gihun's crotch expecting a hardon but it's-... oh. A soft mound. Inho could almost see Gihun's scared eyes, but he reassured him this changes nothing.

He kissed Gihun until both of them were out of breath. Inho laid Gihun down on the bed, burying his face between his legs, licking and sucking like a man gone crazy. Gihun moans but not too loudly as to not wake up the baby, every flick of Inho's tongue against his clit making his senses go wild. Gihun comes quickly, but Inho stays where he is for at least 30 more minutes. Until Gihun is a whimpering mess, cunt sensitive to the touch.

When Inho decides to finally fuck that beautiful pussyhole, he changes position every time he cums. He wants to try it all: fucking Gihun from behind, from the side, having Gihun ride him, then reverse position, folding him in half, jackhammer into him... It lasted well over 2 hours. It took longer too because Gihun's cunt was so wet that Inho's cock slid out many times. Every single time he came inside Gihun. And Gihun experienced so many orgasms that he lost count.

After they were finally done, Gihun could not feel his entire body. He was exhausted after this session. And also very impressed that the baby is still asleep. But both him and Inho are satisfied. They're on cloud nine. Never felt so good in their lives. Inho filled Gihun up real good. He's 51 years old, there's no way this shall have consequences-

Two lines on the pregnancy test. Gihun's gonna have another daughter. Looks like Gayeong will be introduced to not one, but two younger sisters...

THE GIHUSSYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

inho reversing gihun's menopausal body just so he can put a baby in him will forever be my favorite type of inhun fic 🙏

i feel like inho would be completely terrified tho? they already have a baby and the last time his wife was pregnant she died, not to mention that gihun himself was ready to sacrifice himself for the baby... who says he wont try to do the same?

but thankfully the pregnancy is smooth sailing and gihun gives birth to a healthy baby girl 💖💖

also, gayeong would for sure love her sisters so much 🥹

[leeny-leens]

mdni. nsfw ahead. sub(?)!blaise zabini x f!reader

an: this came to me in a dream... @revesephemeres have fun with the Blaise smut I wrote at 1:46 am

The first time Blaise eats you out while you're asleep, his eyes literally roll back so far he wonders for a brief moment if they might actually get stuck like that.

The conversation around this particular kink happened almost 3 weeks ago, and ever since then it's been stuck in his head. He asked about casually, an air of nonchalance meant to betray the deep interest he has for somnophilia. It'd taken you a few days to think about it properly, and you finally concluded you wouldn't particularly mind indulging him in that fantasy. Quickly, both of you agreed on rules and boundaries, and for the next 3 weeks it was all Blaise could really think about.

So, imagine his surprise when he walks into your shared apartment after a grueling day spent in the summer heat, all cooped up in an office with broken AC, only to find you in just a sleeping dress with the fan going.

Your expression is peaceful when he approaches, carefully as to not wake you, and he notes the clothes strewn across the floor. You must have returned from your errands not too long ago and taken a nap to combat the heat, he concludes, his eyes tracing along the shape of your bare thighs.

He's almost ready to turn around and go about his day in the other room, were it not for the slight movement he perceives from his peripheral vision. It's subtle, the way you rub your thighs together in your sleep, your brows knitting together at whatever dream you're having. His movements halt, all his attention now trained on you to study the way you move, the change in your breathing pattern, your frustrated expression as you toss and turn.

It's too good to be true, he reckons, but still, he bites the bullet and slowly approaches the bed. The mattress dips underneath his weight, the slow crawl to position himself somewhat closer to you an excruciating journey that is taken with utmost caution.

Ever so slowly, his hand creeps up your foot, across your calves all the way up to your thigh until he parts your legs, the sight of your damp, black panties sending jolts straight to his dick.

He recalls your conditions for some mid sleep action, and mentally checks off all the cues of consent. No bottoms? Check. Black panties? Check. Very clearly damp and getting wetter? Check.

When he realizes all is in order, it takes a herculean amount of effort for him to not start moaning right there and then. Instead, he grabs your hips, lifting them off the bed with light movements and bunches your dress up to your waist for some better access. Your panties are quickly disregarded to the side, your legs resting on his shoulders as he brings his face closer to your cunt.

The entire thing feels so wrong, yet so incredibly right, and Blaise wastes no time in beginning to devour your dripping pussy. His tongue makes fine work of licking and savouring every drop you release, his juices soon flowing down his chin through his methodical and precise work.

Blaise thinks you might stir awake, but you're none the wiser to what's happening, still blissfully asleep and occupied with whatever dreams you're having while he's eating you to his heart's content.

It's only when he sucks and circled his tongue with added pressure around your puffy clit that you begin to squirm in his touch, soft groans and sighs leaving your pretty lips.

When he deems you slick enough with arousal, he maneuvers his slowly numbing hand to prod at your entrance, and to absolutely no one's surprise, his finger slides in with absolutely no resistance. In fact, it enters you so effortlessly he adds a second one for good measure, working you open with clinical precision that drives you mad both awake and asleep, if the flutter and clench of your walls is anything to go by.

He's painfully hard against the mattress, rutting his hips against one of the throw pillows you must've kicked off in your sleep, but he doesn't actually care about a release of his own. No, Blaise Zabini is a man on a mission, and right now that mission is making his girl cum in her sleep.

The fingers-tongue combination—or as you lovingly dubbed it; the devil's tango—clearly works it's magic on you, because the squirming increases into something shy of thrashing, his name now mumbled like a prayer in your sleep, accompanied by the prettiest moans he's ever heard from you.

He's restless, tongue flattening against your clit while his fingers curl just right to hit the spot he knows makes your legs shake, and when he switches from licking to sucking and flicking? It's game over.

Your eyes flutter open, disorientation and pleasure both coursing through as when the coil in your stomach releases with such pressure, a silent scream gets stuck in your throat.

Your legs shake on his shoulders, your pussy is dripping with release and you're clenching around his fingers like you never want them anywhere else, and honestly? He wouldn't mind, not if he gets to see you come undone like this for the rest of his life.

When your tremors subside, exhaustion washes over you again, your eyes so heavy you can barely keep them open. You only manage to prop yourself on your elbows, hands cradling Blaise's face with warm affection as you mutter praise and gratitude for his service.

"such a good boy, takin' care of me even when I'm sleepin'," you murmur, barely hearing the whine he lets out at your words.

You're falling asleep in an instant, and Blaise decides that taking care of his own little issue isn't as important as getting cleaned up and falling asleep with you.

Besides, his own pleasure doesn't matter right now, all he wants is for his girl to be happy and satisfied, and he's achieved both of those things.

What more can a guy ask for in life?

[archivallyminded]

How They’d React When You Call Them “Babe” for the First Time

aka that moment when their brain short circuits and they fall a little harder

💼 Winters

You: “Babe, can you pass me the salt?”

His Reaction: Blinks exactly once.

Brain: “That’s… new.”

Externally: Stoic. Internally: Alarm bells + fireworks.

You catch him pausing mid-reach like he’s buffering.

Hands you the salt. Quietly says, “…Of course.”

New daily routine: Casually rehearses saying “babe” back in the mirror but doesn’t actually use it until two weeks later. Still makes it sound unnatural, but the attempt was there.

🥃 Nixon

You: “Thanks, babe.” His Reaction: Does a literal double take.

Smirks instantly like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“Ohhhh. So we’re at that level now, huh?”

Absolutely says “babe” 45 times that week just to mess with you. “Babe, we’re out of wine.” “Babe, let’s run away.” “Babe. Babe. Babe.”

You threaten to revoke his babe privileges. He fakes a heart attack.

Secretly: Saved your first “babe” text in his Notes app under “Reasons to Stay Alive.”

😐 Speirs

You: “Looking good, babe.”

His Reaction: Stops moving like a command was issued. Turns. Looks at you. No expression.

You panic slightly. “Too much?”

He steps into your space. Dead serious.

“Don’t say that to anyone else.”

Kisses you so hard you grow weak at the knees and have to hold onto him to keep from keeling over.

Later that night: “Say it again.”

Summary: 0% blush, 100% dominance.

But secretly rewatches security footage (Yes, he has cameras) of you saying it.

📱 Luz

You: “Ready to go, babe?”

His Reaction: Collapses like you shot him in the heart with a Nerf gun.

“You just called me babe. BABE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

Spins in a circle, yells “I HAVE PEAKED.”

Now calls you every term of endearment known to man.

“My moonlight. My moth. My macaroni.”

Won’t stop singing “You Belong With Me” for three days until you actually hit him with a Nerf gun or the nearest soft object.

Emotionally: Has changed his contact name in your phone to “Babe Supreme.” Without asking.

Brags to Babe that he's taken over his name.

🎧 Malarkey

You: “Let’s go, babe.”

His Reaction: Stops chewing.

Eyes go wide. “Did you—was that—was that for me?”

Trips over his own shoelace 3 seconds later.

Blushes for 15 minutes and grins like an idiot for the next hour.

“You sure? You sure I can be your babe?”

Starts signing every note with “– your babe 🧡”

Life goal unlocked: Becomes a babe worth bragging about. Tells Luz and immediately regrets it.

🍺 Buck Compton

You: “Relax, babe.” His Reaction: Leans back, smirks like you just handed him a trophy.

“Babe? Babe.” “So I’m your babe now, huh?” “You sure you can handle that kind of commitment?”

Winks so hard you forget how breathing works.

🥺 Babe Heffron

You: “Hey babe." It takes him a second from looking at you to realize you meant it as a term of endearment, and not his nickname.

His Reaction: Freezes.

Face turns the same color as a ripe tomato.

“D-Did you just call me babe? Like, not Babe, but BABE???"

Starts smiling but tries to hide it behind a hoodie sleeve.

Whispers “babe” to himself for the rest of the day. Immediately texts the group chat saying "They called me babe."

Luz being the first one to respond: "Hate to break it to you, kid, but that's your name."

🗡️ Liebgott

You: “C’mon, babe, I’m serious.” His Reaction: Freezes mid-sentence. Blinks once.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

Voice cracks slightly. You pretend not to notice.

Looks away, shrugs. “Yeah. Whatever. You can call me that. If you want.”

Five minutes later he mutters, “Sounds good when you say it, that’s all.”

Refuses to use the word himself for a month. Then one night while you're falling asleep: “Night, babe.”

Voice low. Heart exposed.

📚 Webster

You: “Can you pass me that, babe?” His Reaction: Visibly chokes. Like, air caught in throat, glasses slipping kind of choke.

“Did—was that for me?”

Tries to stay smooth, fails completely.

Writes the moment down in a journal with the header: First Time They Called Me ‘Babe’ – 11:37 a.m. Starts calling you “babe” ironically. Then… sincerely. Then constantly. Conclusion: Overanalyzes it. Romanticizes it. Dies happy every time you say it again.

💥 Joe Toye

You say it like it’s normal. “Pass me the keys, babe.”

He freezes. Mid-motion. Looks at you like you threw a punch. “…W-What'd you just call me?” You laugh. “Babe.” He actually flushes deeply. Then stares at the wall for a second like it betrayed him. Then: “Say it again.” You do. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.” For the rest of the day, he’s gruff, flustered, softer.

If someone else hears you say it? He grins like he just won the Super Bowl.

🐕 Bill Guarnere

You drop it casually: “Babe, your coffee’s getting cold.”

His head SNAPS around. Like you just proposed with your eyes. “Wait—what’d you just say?” You: “…Babe?”

He immediately starts grinning. Real shit-eating, smug Guarnere™ grin.

“Oooh, you said it. You can’t take it back.”

“That’s it. You’re stuck with me now.”

Starts calling you "babe" in return, aggressively, nonstop, like he just unlocked a new power. “Hey babe.” “Where’s my babe?” “Babe, you look hot when you boss me around.”

But if you ever say it low, tired, soft, “thanks, babe," he kisses you so gently it breaks your heart.