#as like a way to snap them out of it and do it quickly with immediate results

[coriihanniee]

TELL ME, WILL WE SURVIVE? ⋆˚࿔

۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : you're the 4th member of Huntrix, tasked to eliminate the Saja Boys, five powerful demons disguised as idols. However, encountering them face to face brings an achingly familiar pain to your chest.

۶ৎ PAIRING : reincarnated 4th member huntrix!reader x saja boys ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : romance, reincarnation, angst ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of death, use of weapons, slight emotional manipulation, sexy hot fictional men

۶ৎ A/N : asked if I should write this fic with a poll and 434 votes is crazy... so here it is! This will probably be my only kpdh fic 🥹 I hope this satisfies you~ It was tough to come up what to write apart from Jinu's considering the fact we don't have more information about the others T^T

The tension in the Huntrix dorm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I still can't believe it," Zoey muttered, pacing back and forth across the living room while clutching her notebook. "A new boy group that just debuted... and they're actual demons."

Mira sat cross-legged on the floor. Her usually perfect hair was tied back in a messy bun. "The way everyone was completely fascinated by them..." She shuddered. "Like they couldn't look away or think of anything else."

"Five guys who came out of nowhere and had everyone mesmerized on their very first performance," Rumi said grimly, her voice still hoarse from the throat issues that had sent them to the doctor in the first place. "That's not normal idol talent, that's demonic influence."

You looked up from lacing your combat boots, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread. While your three groupmates had discovered the Saja Boys' true nature during their trip to the clinic, you'd been stuck in back-to-back variety show recordings. Part of you felt guilty for missing such a crucial moment, but another part was almost grateful. Something about facing demons, especially these particular demons, made your chest tight with an emotion you couldn't name.

"So what's the plan?" you asked, trying to push away the odd nervousness in your stomach.

Rumi stood up, her leader instincts taking over despite her vocal strain. "Intelligence suggests they're operating out of several locations around the city. We need to track them down and neutralize the threat before their next public appearance."

"Five of them, four of us," Mira noted. "Not impossible odds, but we'll need to be smart about this."

Zoey stopped pacing and looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, this is our first time facing demons this powerful. The Saja Boys aren't like the lower-level creatures we usually hunt."

You nodded, though your heart was racing for reasons you couldn't explain. "I've trained for this. We all have."

"We don't know much about their individual abilities yet," Rumi warned, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "But we know they're organized and powerful enough to steal our fans and mess with the Honmoon. They've been systematically targeting our fans, hypnotising them with some kind of influence we don't understand yet.”

"We split up," Rumi continued. "Cover more ground that way. But nobody engages alone unless absolutely necessary. These aren't ordinary demons, they're organized, intelligent, and extremely dangerous."

As your groupmates continued planning, you found yourself staring out the window at the Seoul skyline, a dozen city lights twinkling like stars. Somewhere out there, five demons who had quickly become the nation's beloved idol group in less than a day were hiding, planning, hunting.

So why did the thought of facing them feel less like preparing for battle and more like... coming home?

"Ready?" Rumi's voice snapped you back to reality.

You grabbed your weapon and stood up, pushing down the strange emotions swirling in your chest. You were a member of Huntrix. You had a job to do.

Even if something deep inside you whispered that this mission would change everything.

JINU ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Three hours after the briefing, you crouched behind a concrete pillar in an abandoned office building, your heart hammering against your ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with the mission. You had tracked Jinu here alone, separated from his group members, conducting what appeared to be private business on the fifteenth floor.

The elevator had been deliberately disabled, forcing you to climb the emergency stairwell. Each step upwards felt heavier than the last, as if your body fought against an invisible current. When you finally reached the target floor, the silence was deafening.

You pressed your ear to the stairwell door, listening for voices, footsteps, any sign of demonic activity. Your weapon felt foreign in your grip, a silver-blessed blade that had never failed you in past hunts, yet now trembled with your uncertainty.

The hallway beyond stretched like a mouth waiting to swallow you whole. Fluorescent lights flickered sporadically, casting dancing shadows that made your vision blur. You moved silently, checking each empty office as you passed, until you reached the corner suite at the end of the corridor.

The door stood ajar.

Through the gap, you could see him.

Jinu sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his profile illuminated by the pale glow of Seoul's skyline through the windows. Even in the dim light, his features were sharp and aristocratic, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, dark hair that fell perfectly across his forehead. 

"The contract is simple," his voice carried through the crack in the door, smooth as silk yet cold as steel. "Your daughter's medical bills disappear. Her surgery is guaranteed successful. All I ask in return is a small favour down the line."

"What kind of favour?" The other voice was desperate, broken, a father's voice.

"Nothing that will harm your family directly. You have my word."

You should have burst through that door immediately and struck while Jinu was distracted, before he could complete whatever twisted bargain he was weaving. But the moment your eyes found his face, your entire world tilted off its axis.

Inexplicable pain lanced through your chest. Your vision blurred from the tears suddenly sliding down your cheeks. Images surged and vanished too quickly to grasp : a child's laugh, the strum of a bipa, a soft voice humming, arms wrapping around you beneath a threadbare blanket.

"I'll take care of everything. You'll never have to worry again."

You gasped, stumbling backwards and nearly dropping your weapon. The sound echoed in the empty hallway like a gunshot.

The conversation inside the office stopped abruptly.

"I believe our business here is concluded," Jinu's voice had changed, taking on an edge that made your spine stiffen. "You know how to contact me when you've made your decision."

The desperate father's voice slowly faded as he was presumably escorted out through another exit.

You pressed yourself against the wall, mind racing. You had lost the element of surprise, but the mission remained the same. Jinu was alone now. This was your chance to strike before he could reunite with the other Saja Boys.

You kicked the door open and rushed inside, blade raised and ready.

Jinu stood by the window with his back to you, hands clasped behind him as if he had been expecting your arrival. The moonlight turned his silhouette into an ethereal and angelic vision, a cruel irony given what you knew him to be.

"You're faster than I anticipated," he said without turning around. "Though not as quiet as you think."

"Turn around." Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

He complied slowly. However, when his eyes met yours, your soul cracked down the middle.

You could see a brief flicker of recognition cross his face, perhaps even mourning, or maybe grief worn thin over centuries.

You raised your blade higher, just enough to hide how much your hands were shaking.

"You've grown beautiful," he said softly.

Your breath caught in your throat, forcing down a wave of emotions that threatened to break free. You gritted your teeth. "Don't."

He stepped forward. 

"I said don't."

He moved closer.

You slashed by reflex. Jinu blocked it with his arm. He didn't exactly attack back. But he parried, blocked, dodged with the ease of someone who'd trained lifetimes for this.

It happened before you could think. Your body moved, like it already knew what to do. Your chest rose and fell too fast, ears buzzing with the rush of your heartbeat. Jinu barely fought back, annoyingly and effortlessly dodging your attacks. However, you refused to stop until the hurt had somewhere to land.

Until he disarmed you, your blade clattering across the floor.

Jinu didn't press the advantage or move to strike.

Instead, he stepped back. 

You froze for half a second. Why isn't he fighting back? Was this pity? Mercy? Did he think you couldn’t handle it?

"You don't remember." It wasn't a question.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Four hundred years ago," he said quietly, "I had a mother and a sister. We were starving. I played the bipa on street corners, until I found you, you were the only light we had left. You kept us together, even when everything fell apart."

Images tore at your mind again : your hands mending a child's robe. Jinu's fingers brushing yours. The bipa's music cutting through the dark.

"You were there," you whispered, not understanding why you knew it was true.

"I was." His voice cracked. "And I failed all of you."

"But… you're a demon now. You manipulate people. Steal their souls."

"I offer what they ask for. I offered it then, too. I was desperate and hungry. My family and you were dying in front of my eyes. Gwi-Ma found me and promised me a life of comfort and power. I thought if I accepted it, I could bring you all with me."

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"But the gates closed behind me," he said, barely audible. "I turned around and they wouldn't let you through. I left you in the cold while I slept on silk."

You shook your head, but the memories were surfacing now,

"I searched for you after. But you died, didn't you? Alone. Like the rest of them. While I lived in luxury with blood on my hands."

The truth settled like ice in your lungs. Your memories were fractured, broken by time and pain, but you remembered enough. Remembered waiting put in the cold and the hunger that ate you alive while he feasted in hell.

"I waited for you," you whispered.

Jinu closed his eyes as if the words were a blade through his chest. "I know."

The admission ignited a fury so pure it burned through your veins like poison. He knew. While you were wasted away in that freezing hovel, praying for his return until your throat was raw. While you'd begged strangers for scraps, sold every precious thing you owned just to buy another day of life, he was feasting in warmth and safety. He knew, and he'd done nothing.

"You knew," you snarled, and the rage in your voice made him flinch. "You knew we were dying and you left us there to rot."

Your hands clenched into fists. Every cell in your body screamed for violence, for justice, for him to feel even a fraction of the agony he'd caused.

You lunged for your weapon again. He didn't stop you.

"I'm going to kill you," you said, raising it with trembling hands.

"Then do it."

However, you hesitated, the blade wavering above his heart. Tears blurred your vision as you stared down at him, this man who had once been your entire world. Your arm shook with the effort of holding the weapon steady, but your body refused to obey. Every instinct screamed at you to drive the silver through his chest, to end his suffering and yours, but your heart betrayed you.

Even after everything, you couldn't bring yourself to destroy him. The realization broke you more than his abandonment ever had.

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

"Because I loved you more than my own soul. And letting you end it is the only way I can repent for what I've done."

Your eyes widened at his words, the blade slipping from your nerveless fingers. It hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed through the empty office.

Jinu's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the fallen weapon, in disbelief at what had just happened. His composure finally cracked, and tears spilled down his cheeks, the first real emotion you'd seen from him since you'd entered this room.

Why?" he whispered. "After everything I've done to you... why can't you do it?”

"I-I don't know…’ you said, voice cracking. “But… this doesn't mean I forgive you…”

"I wouldn't dare ask."

"And I'm not letting you walk away."

He nodded, tears tracking down his cheeks.

You stepped closer, your heart shattering with every breath.

"This time, we need to talk, about the four hundred years you stole from us."

ABBY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The underground fight club pulsed with sweat, blood, and money changing hands. You pressed your earpiece, static crackling back at you as you tried to reach Rumi. 

"Rumi, do you copy? I lost visual on the target."

Nothing but interference.

Intel had tracked two Saja Boys to this district, Abby and Mystery had split from the main group. Following a thorough discussion, you and the other girls decided to split into duos to ensure greater safety. You and Rumi were supposed to stay together, but the crowds and maze-like underground tunnels had separated you. Now you were alone in the bowels of Seoul's illegal fighting scene.

The roar of the crowd guided you deeper into the complex. Through a doorway marked with graffiti, you found the main arena, a concrete pit surrounded by screaming spectators waving fistfuls of cash. 

In the center of the ring stood Abby.

He moved like violence incarnate, all muscle and controlled fury as he circled his opponent. Abby was shirtless, his body a map of scars and fresh bruises, sweat making his skin gleam under the harsh lights. 

The expression that you caught on his face made your breath catch. Pure, undiluted joy. He was having the time of his life.

His opponent lunged. Abby sidestepped with fluid grace, then drove his fist into the man's ribs with a wet crack that echoed over the crowd's cheers as the man fell to the ground hard. 

"Next!" Abby called out, not even breathing heavily. His grin was sharp enough to cut glass. "Who else wants to dance?"

Three men climbed into the ring together as the crowd grew wild.

You should have taken the shot then, but watching him move was hypnotic. Every punch and dodge was precise and calculated. 

Two opponents were quickly taken down, and the third hesitated to swing.

"Come on," Abby taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Don't tell me you're scared now."

The man reluctantly charged. Abby caught him mid-lunge and slammed him into the concrete so hard the ground cracked.

The crowd erupted as money flew. Abby raised his arms in victory, basking in the adoration.

You waited until the chaos died down, until the crowd dispersed and the arena emptied. Abby was collecting his winnings from the promoter when you finally made your move.

"Good fights tonight," you said, stepping out of the shadows.

He went completely still for a second, so brief you almost missed it. Then he turned around with that cocky grin already sliding into place. 

"Well, well. What do we have here?" He looked you up and down, but it wasn't the casual appreciation of a stranger. It was recognition wrapped in careful performance. "You don't look like the usual groupies. Too pretty. Too dangerous."

"I'm not a groupie."

"No kidding." He stuffed the money in his back pocket and grabbed his shirt from where he'd thrown it, but didn't put it on. Still showing off, but his movements were more deliberate now, as if he was buying time to think.

 "So what are you? Reporter? Cop? Or just someone who likes watching sweaty men beat the hell out of each other?"

"I'm here for you."

His grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that's direct. Though I gotta say, most people who want me specifically don't usually start with small talk."

The arena was empty now except for the two of you and the lingering smell of violence.

Perfect.

"You're coming with me," you said, hand moving to your weapon.

"Am I?" He stepped closer, and the playful mask slipped just slightly. "And here I was thinking you might be here for something else entirely."

"This isn't a game."

"Everything's a game, sweetheart. The trick is figuring out if we're playing by the same rules." He was circling you now, but it felt less predatory and more like he was trying to get a different angle, trying to see something in your face. "Though I gotta ask, do you even know who I am?"

You drew your blade. His expression shifted, resignation mixed with anticipation.

"There it is," he said quietly, flexing his fingers. "Was wondering when we'd get to this part."

He moved faster than you'd expected, still testing you. Every move of his was calculated, like he was trying to figure out how much you remembered about fighting. 

About fighting him specifically.

"Come on," he said, dodging your blade with familiar ease. "I know you're better than this. You always were."

The words slipped out before he could catch them. You saw the moment he realized his mistake, saw him try to cover it with that cocky grin.

"Always were what?" you demanded, pressing your attack.

"Always were too careful," he said, but his voice was strained now. "Stop holding back."

"I'm trying not to kill you."

"How thoughtful." His voice was softer now, almost fond. "Always looking out for everyone else."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he caught your wrist and pulled you against his chest. For a moment, you were close enough to see the conflict in his eyes.

"Got you," he said, but it sounded more like a prayer than a taunt.

You drove your elbow back into his ribs and spun free. He let you go reluctantly.

"There we go," he said, rubbing his side. "That's more like it."

You came at him again, blade swinging through the air. This time when he grabbed your wrist and twisted until you had to drop the weapon, his grip was careful, like he'd done this exact move with you before.

"How do you know how I fight?" you asked.

The question made him freeze. His grip loosened just enough for you to break free, but instead of reaching for another weapon, you just stared at him.

"Have we met before?" you asked.

All the pretense drained out of his expression at your question, replaced by rawness and desperation.

"Every day for a hundred and twenty three years," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

His hands came up to frame your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones like he was memorizing them all over again.

"You really don't remember," he said, and his voice cracked on the words. "God, I hoped... I thought maybe..."

His touch was so gentle, and his voice was softer now. 

"How do you know my name?" you whispered.

"Because I've been saying it every day for over a century." He laughed bitterly "Because it was the last thing you heard before you died."

Images flashed through your mind : rain-soaked streets, a thin boy with kind eyes, the sound of your own scream echoing off alley walls.

You stumbled backward, hand pressed to your temple. "What's happening to me?"

"Hey." He reached for you, movements careful now, gentle. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

"I'm not okay. I'm seeing things that aren't real."

"What kind of things?"

"A boy. Someone I loved." The words came out before you could stop them. "Someone who died because of me."

Abby went very still. "How did he die?"

"I don't know. I can't—the memories aren't mine." You looked up at him desperately. "This is crazy. I don't even know you."

"Yes you do." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You do know me. You just can't remember because dying screws with your head."

"I didn't die."

"Yeah, you did." He was close enough to touch now, hands hovering just shy of your skin. "Hundred and twenty three years ago. In an alley. They put a knife in your back while I watched, too weak to do anything about it."

The memories hit like a tsunami : cobblestones slick with rain, rough hands dragging you away from a thin boy who was calling your name, the burn of steel between your ribs.

"Oh god," you whispered.

"I made you a promise," Abby continued, his voice thick with a century's worth of grief. "On your grave. That if I ever got the chance to see you again, I'd be strong enough to protect you."

You looked at him, and saw past the muscle and scars to the boy underneath. The boy who'd loved you. The boy who'd become a monster for the chance to keep you safe.

"You became a demon for me?"

"I became whatever I had to become." His hands finally made contact, cupping your face gently, as if any more pressure might shatter you into a million pieces. "I don't care what that makes me. I care about keeping you alive."

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel behind you. Rumi's voice called out your name, worried.

"Shit," you whispered. "My partner's coming."

Abby's expression hardened instantly, all the vulnerability vanishing behind that familiar cocky mask. "Right. Back to reality."

"Abby, wait—"

"No, it's fine." He stepped back, putting distance between you, but his eyes never left your face. "You've got a job to do. I get it."

"I can't just—"

"What? Kill me? We both know you're not going to do that." He grinned. "So what's the play here, sweetheart? You gonna tell your partner you found me and just... let me walk away?”

The footsteps were getting closer. You had maybe thirty seconds before Rumi found you.

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Well, you better figure it out fast." Despite his words, he wasn't moving towards the exits. He was just standing there, waiting for you to decide his fate again.

"There's another exit through the back," you said quickly. "Behind the equipment room."

His eyebrows shot up. "You're letting me go?"

"I'm giving you a head start."

"Why?"

Because somewhere in your fractured memories, you remembered loving him. Because he'd spent over a century becoming strong enough to protect you, and maybe you could be strong enough to protect him too.

"Because I remember enough," you said simply.

His mask cracked just for a moment. "This isn't over."

"I know."

"I'll find you again."

"I know."

He started towards the back exit, then paused. "Hey, sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to die before I see you again. I'm getting really tired of that particular tragedy."

In a blink of an eye, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows just as Rumi's voice echoed closer.

ROMANCE ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rooftop overlooked the glittering chaos of Seoul's entertainment district, where neon signs blazed advertisements for idol groups and concert venues stretched towards the horizon. You crouched behind the air conditioning unit, silver blade steady in your grip as you surveyed the empty space. 

Wind carried the distant sound of traffic and late-night revelers, but here, twenty stories above the city's pulse, silence reigned.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

You tensed, weapon raised when you heard his voice, achingly familiar despite being impossible to place. It wrapped around your ribs like phantom fingers, squeezing until your chest felt tight with inexplicable longing.

Romance emerged from behind the rooftop access door with fluid grace, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Under the city's electric glow, his features appeared sharp and ethereal, pink hair catching the wind as he regarded you with calm amusement.

"Though I suspect you're not here for sightseeing," he continued, taking measured steps forward. "Hello, hunter."

Your blade remained steady despite the tremor in your voice. "You know what I am."

"Of course I know exactly what you are." His smile held no malice, only a strange sadness that made your throat constrict. "The question is, do you know what I am?"

Without warning, you lunged.

Romance flowed backwards like water, your strike cutting through empty air as he spun away from your advance. He moved with practiced precision, dodging rather than retaliating, speaking in that same measured tone even as you pressed your attack.

"You fight beautifully," he observed, sidestepping another slash. "Trained well. Committed."

You snarled in frustration, spinning to catch him with a backhand strike that he avoided by millimeters. "Shut up and fight back."

"Why would I want to hurt you?"

The question threw off your rhythm, long enough for Romance to close the distance between you. His hand found your wrist with gentle firmness, and your weapon clattered across the concrete.

You struck out with your free hand, but he caught that too, holding both your wrists as you struggled against his grip. His touch burned with unnatural warmth, sending sparks up your arms that had nothing to do with his demonic nature.

"Let me go," you hissed.

"In a moment." Romance's eyes searched your face with desperate intensity. "I need you to see—"

He shifted, a small and bright object tumbled from his pocket, a ring that caught the neon light as it fell. Simple silver band, modest stone, nothing extraordinary except for the way it made your heart stop.

Pain lanced through your chest. Your knees buckled as emotion crashed over you in waves, grief so profound it stole your breath, love so pure it felt like drowning, loss that cut deeper than any blade. You didn't understand where these feelings originated, only that they threatened to tear you apart from the inside.

Romance released you immediately, crouching to retrieve the ring with reverent care. "You feel it too," he whispered.

"I don't—" You stumbled backward, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache pulsed with each heartbeat. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. This is yours." He held up the ring, and the sight of it made tears spring to your eyes without explanation. "It was meant for you."

"What—that's impossible."

"You taught me what love felt like, centuries ago." Romance said quietly, his mask of casual amusement finally cracking. "Before you, I was nothing. A shadow in my own house, invisible to parents who saw only disappointment when they looked at me. You were the first person to show me kindness, love me without expecting anything in return."

He cradled the ring like it held his entire world. "I saved for months to buy this. Worked every odd job I could find, skipped meals. I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep."

His confession struck a place you didn’t know could still hurt. Your eyes flickered back to the ring again, breath hitching.

"You fell ill a few weeks before I planned to propose." His voice cracked, centuries of grief pouring through the fractures. "I held your hand for seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay with me."

"Y-You're lying." But your voice had no strength behind it.

"Your last coherent words were asking me to promise I'd love someone else after you were gone. You were so worried about me being alone." Tears tracked down his perfect cheeks, and seeing them made your own eyes burn. "I lied and said yes because I thought it would help you let go peacefully."

The pain in your chest intensified, spreading through your ribs like poison. "That's not—"

"I tried to keep that promise as a human. I spent years searching for someone who could make me feel what you had.��� Romance's voice dropped to a whisper. “But no one came close to you.”

"You became a demon because you couldn't move on..."

"I made a pact with Gwi-Ma after years of failing to love anyone else. I became something that could create love, manufacture and distribute it to anyone desperate enough to want it." His smile was self-loathing incarnate. "If I couldn't feel real love, at least I could give others a taste of what you gave me."

"You're feeding on people and hurting them."

"I'm keeping my promise to you." His eyes blazed with centuries of accumulated pain and twisted devotion. "Every heart I touch and every moment of artificial bliss I create is all for you. You asked me to love someone else, and this is the only way I know how."

The logic was twisted, but the raw anguish in his voice made your chest tighten with sympathy you couldn't afford. "You're manipulating innocent people."

"I give them what they desperately need. The feeling of being cherished, desired, worthy of devotion. When the illusion breaks, yes, they're disappointed. But at least they got to experience something transcendent." Romance stood slowly, the ring disappearing back into his coat. "Tell me that's not better than the emptiness they had before."

"It's a love built on lies."

"All love is lies in the end." His smile returned, but it held no warmth. "The difference is I'm honest about the illusion I create."

You backed towards the rooftop edge, every instinct screaming at you to flee. The mission was clear, eliminate the demon. However, your hands shook as you reached for a backup blade, and the pain in your chest made it difficult to breathe. Each word he'd spoken felt like a knife twisting deeper.

"This isn't over," you managed, but the words came out weak.

"I know." Romance made no move to stop you as you retreated. "But I won't fight you anymore. I've caused enough damage to someone I—"

He cut himself off, the unfinished words hung in the air between you.

"Someone you what?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

"Someone I loved more than my own existence." His voice was barely audible above the wind. "Someone I'm still failing, even now."

The words crashed over you like a tidal wave. Ring. Proposal. Seventy two hours. Promise. Death. Demon. Love. The pieces swirled in your mind, too many fragments to assemble together, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your training screamed at you to stay, but your heart couldn't bear another second of his confessions.

You turned and ran.

The fire escape blurred past as you descended, taking stairs three at a time until your legs gave out two floors from the bottom. You collapsed on the landing, gasping for air that wouldn't come, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could physically force back the tears threatening to spill.

His voice echoed in your mind : I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep.

Why did that hurt? You were a hunter trained to kill demons, not sympathize with their tragic backstories.

You forced yourself to continue down the fire escape, your movements mechanical and disconnected. 

Seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay.

Your back hit the alley wall and you slid down until you were sitting on the cold concrete, arms wrapped around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face as you grieved for reasons you couldn't name.

This couldn't have happened before. You would remember dying. You would remember being loved with that kind of desperate devotion. You would remember someone saving money for months to buy you a ring.

...

Wouldn't you?

MYSTERY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You lean against the Huntrix dorm balcony railing, watching Seoul pulse beneath you like a neon heartbeat. The city sprawls endless and electric, towers of glass catching streetlight, traffic threading through concrete arteries. Behind you, voices clash over mission prep.

"We should split up and handle each demon individually," Rumi insisted. "Pick them off one by one."

"That's suicide," Mira counters. "We stick together, overwhelm them with combined firepower. Safety in numbers."

"Okay, okay!" Zoey jumps between them with enthusiastic gestures. "What if we compromise? Split into pairs? Best of both worlds, right? Right?"

There are weak spots in the Honmoon barrier scattered across Seoul like broken bones. You've memorized their coordinates, trained for this until your muscles know the patterns by heart. So why won't your pulse settle tonight? 

The argument behind you fades to background noise as you stare at the skyline. 

Suddenly, a soft and delicate melody drifts across the night air.

It felt like a tune you hum when your hands are full of flowers, when you're dizzy with new love. It shouldn't reach you from this height. Seoul's chaos should swallow such fragile notes whole, but the song finds you anyway.

Your breathing stops. You've heard this melody before in dreams that leave you gasping at dawn. 

Across the urban maze, movement flickers near a crumbling rooftop. A shadow that doesn't belong.

You don't hesitate one second. 

The balcony railing becomes your launching point. Rooftop to rooftop, your feet find purchase on surfaces that shouldn't hold human weight. The melody grows stronger with each leap, pulling you forward like a current.

Seoul blurs beneath you, kaleidoscope light and shadow, lives stacked in vertical towers. You follow the song through this maze, breath controlled, heart pounding against your ribs.

The tune leads you to an abandoned building that time forgot. Dark windows, cracked facade, studio spaces that once housed art but now hold only dust. You slip through a broken skylight, landing silent on debris-covered floors.

The music comes to a stop.

Mystery stands beside a shattered mirror, fingers turning over what looks like an old locket. He doesn't startle when you drop in. Instead, his mouth curves into a smile that holds too many secrets.

"You've always been good at finding me."

Your weapon clears its holster, barrel trained on his chest, and his smile deepens.

Ice floods your veins. Your grip tightens on the weapon. "Who are you?"

He laughs softly, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "I would tell you now, but where's the fun in that?"

"This isn't a game." Your voice comes out sharper than intended.

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head, studying you with eyes that hold starlight and shadows. "You followed my song across half the city. Left your friends mid-mission. That sounds like playing to me."

Heat rises in your cheeks. He's right, and you hate that he's right. "Answer me. Why do you know me?"

He steps closer curiously, like he's watching a flower bloom in real time. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"All those summer nights when you'd sneak out just to hear me play." His voice drops to a whisper. "The way you'd fall asleep in my arms while I hummed that exact melody."

Your heart stutters. The exact melody that's been haunting your dreams for months. "That's impossible. I would remember—"

"You would remember me, wouldn’t you?" He reaches out, fingers barely grazing your cheek. 

You should pull away, you know you should put distance between you and this stranger who claims to know your past. But his touch feels familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

"You haven't changed. Well, except for the blade." His gaze drops to the weapon still trained on him. "You never needed those before."

"Before what? Before when?" Desperation creeps into your voice.

He smiles again, stepping back. "Don't remember me yet. It's more fun this way."

"Fun?" The word explodes from you. "You think this is fun? I'm losing my mind trying to figure out who you are, and you think it's entertaining?"

"I think," he says, moving towards the broken window, "that some things are worth waiting for. Some mysteries are sweeter when they unfold slowly."

Moonlight catches in his dark hair as he pauses at the window's edge. "Besides, you always did love puzzles. You used to spend hours on them when you couldn't sleep."

Another piece of impossible knowledge. Another fragment that feels true but shouldn't exist. "How do you know that?"

"I know lots of things about you." His grin turns wicked. "You bite your lip when you're thinking too hard. You always eat the corners of sandwiches first. You used to trace constellations on my back with your fingertips."

Your weapon wavers. "Stop."

"Why? Does it hurt to remember what you've forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. I don't even know who you are." But even as you say it, phantom sensations ghost across your fingertips.

"Liar." He says it fondly. "You remember pieces. Little fragments that visit you in dreams. That's why you followed the melody tonight."

He's right again. You hate that he's right again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, preparing to slip through the window.

"Wait—" The word tears from your throat. "At least tell me your name."

He pauses, half-silhouetted against the night sky. "You'll remember it when you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready? What if I never remember?"

For a moment, his smile falters. Vulnerability flickers across his features. "You will. You have to."

He turns to leave, but moonlight catches his profile at just the right angle. Your breath hitches. Along his temple, barely visible unless you know what to look for, the faint outline of demonic markings. Intricate patterns that shimmer like oil on water, there one second and gone the next.

Your training kicks in before your heart can catch up. The weapon in your hands shifts, finger finding the trigger. He's a demon. You're a hunter. The math is simple.

His hair shifts slightly, and for just a moment, you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the strands.

"You see it now," he says quietly. "The monster I am.”

Your finger hovers over the trigger. This is what you've trained for. What you've dedicated your life to. But something deep inside you hesitates.

Your hand trembles. The weapon feels impossibly heavy.

"Tomorrow," he says again, stepping towards the window. "When you remember who we were, you'll understand why I can't fight you. Why I'll never fight you."

In the blink of an eye, he's gone, leaving you alone with the echo of his voice, that phantom melody, and the terrible knowledge that you just let a demon walk away.

You land back on the balcony, chest heaving. The sliding door opens before you can compose yourself. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey spill out, eyes wide with panic.

"Where were you?! We've been searching everywhere—"

"Can we go tomorrow instead?" Your voice sounds foreign. "I don't feel great."

They exchange loaded glances. Eventually Rumi nods. "Of course. Rest is part of prep too."

You turn away before they can see the cracks spreading across your composure and witness how your hands shake.

That night, your bed feels like a battleground. The melody plays on repeat behind your closed eyes. Each note carries weight you can't name and memories you can't quite grasp.

The mystery of it all pressed against your mind. What past did you share? Why couldn't you remember? 

Mystery himself seemed to revel in the unknowing, content to watch you struggle with fragments of what you'd once been to each other. 

BABY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Something was wrong with your hands.

They'd been trembling since you left the dorm, and no amount of clenching your fists or pressing them against your thighs could make it stop. Rumi's words echoed in your head like a mantra you couldn't shake, "Don't let his face fool you. They're still dangerous demons working for Gwi-Ma nevertheless."

Pictures of the Saja Boys were already circulating online in less than a day. Five demons who'd seemingly appeared overnight, stealing the hearts and souls of your fans.

"Ugh, I’m going to beat their stupid pretty little faces," Zoey had said, tapping the images with her pen. "Seriously, look at them! Acting all mysterious and brooding like they're in some kind of boy band. I mean—they are… but look! The internet's already making fan edits—fan edits! Of demons!" She'd gestured wildly at her tablet, where countless social media posts were flooding in by the minute. "Half the comments are people asking where they can meet them. It's insane!”

You'd barely heard her. Your eyes had been drawn to one face among the five, sharp features that still held traces of boyish softness.

His face had made your chest tighten with recognition, like looking at a stranger who wore the face of someone from a half-remembered dream.

Why did he feel familiar?

The neighbourhood around you was a study in urban decay, half the buildings scheduled for demolition, the other half already hollow shells. You decided to turn a corner and came across an abandoned playground.

You knew this place.

You stopped mid-step at the chain-link gate. The monkey bars where someone had scraped their knee. The slide with the chip in the yellow paint. The bike rack, now empty and listing to one side like a broken rib.

This was from your dreams. Or maybe...

"Didn't expect you to come."

The voice drifted from somewhere behind the playground equipment with an edge that made your hand move instinctively to your weapon. You'd heard that voice before, in fragments that scattered whenever you tried to grasp them.

"Show yourself," you called, stepping through the gate. The metal squealed in protest, the sound echoing off empty buildings like a warning.

He laughed mockingly. "Still giving orders, I see."

He emerged from behind the slide, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the chill of the night. He looked barely out of his teens, with features that still held traces of boyish softness despite the hard set of his jaw.

"You always had a thing for chasing monsters," he said, tilting his head as he studied you with uncomfortable intensity. Those dark eyes flickered, darting away from your face as if looking directly at you caused him physical pain.

"How do you know me?"

Baby shrugged with affected indifference. "Lucky guess."

The way he held himself like he was trying very hard not to care, made anger flare in your chest. "That's not an answer."

He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the asphalt. "Maybe you're just forgettable."

The casual cruelty in his voice should have stung. You drew your blade, silver gleaming in the late afternoon light.

"Are you going to come quietly, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Baby looked at the weapon, then back at your face. For a moment, vulnerability flickered across his features before he crushed it down.

"Do what the hard way?" He stepped closer, invading your personal space with  reckless confidence. "Fight me? Kill me?" His voice dropped, a hint of intimacy laced inside, bitter amusement threading through each word. "You wouldn't be the first to try."

You raised the blade between you, but instead of stopping, he knocked it aside with casual violence, the metal ringing as it struck the nearby swing set. Before you could recover, he was on you, crowding you back against the chain-link fence with predatory grace.

"I waited for you, you know," he said, one hand braced against the fence beside your head, effectively trapping you. "Stupid thing to do when you're a kid."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "What?"

His free hand came up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The touch was rough, but not enough to hurt.

"You really don't remember," he said, his laugh sharp enough to cut. "How convenient."

"Remember what?" The desperation in your voice made you flinch, but you couldn't take it back.

"Us." The single word fell between you, sending ripples through memories you couldn't quite grasp. "This place. The promises you made."

You tried to push him away, but he caught your wrists, pinning them against the fence. His grip was careful despite his aggression, strong enough to hold you, gentle enough not to bruise.

"You died," he said, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "And I had to grow up. Happy now?"

The world tilted sideways. Images flashed through your mind like broken film, a boy with tears streaming down his face, small hands clutching yours, a voice promising forever, all turned into ashes now.

"I'll never leave you."

The words rose from deep in your throat. Baby's eyes snapped to yours, wide with… hope, if hope weren't such a dangerous thing for creatures like him to carry.

"You broke your promise first," he whispered, and the accusation send a chill down your spine. 

You stumbled when he finally released you, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache was spreading like cracks in ice. Baby stepped back, flexing his fingers, trying to forget the feel of your skin.

"I don't—" You shook your head, struggling to make sense of the fragments flashing through your mind. "I don't understand."

"No," Baby said, his mask completely slipping. "You never did understand. You were always too good for this world."

He kicked your fallen blade across the asphalt, the metal scraping against concrete. "That's why you had to die, isn't it? Pure things don't last in places like this."

The words were bitter, but his voice cracked on the last syllable. He turned away quickly, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Next time we meet, I won't be nice," he said without looking back.

"Please, wait—"

He froze at the sound of your plea, shoulders going rigid. You thought he might turn around. Instead, he let out a short and humourless laugh.

"Begging now? Huh, pathetic."

H walked away, each step deliberate and final. Just as he reached the edge of the playground, he stopped.

"The songs," he said quietly, not turning around. "Those stupid lullabies you used to sing when I had nightmares. I still—"

He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Forget it. Forget everything."

He simply walked away down the empty street like any other person with anywhere else to be. You watched until he turned the corner and vanished from sight, leaving you alone with your forgotten blade and the sound of wind through rusted swings.

You picked up your weapon with trembling hands, but the silver felt cold and foreign now, it now felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @kjwluvr @arieslucy @permanenceimp @arienic

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby)

Summary: It's what happens after Huntrix and Saja boys' joint fansign event. Mira is annoyed at the trending hashtags online, she sees their fans shipping her with SB Romance and Abby. Their manager, thinking it'd be a good idea, organized another joint fansign event the next day.

Word Count: 773

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Mira snatched Bobby's phone out of his hands, fuming at the edited pictures she saw. "What's this? Pink Poly Club? No way am I being lumped in with those boys!" She handed the phone back.

Zoey was internally squealing.

"Me and Mystery? Like—" She caught the scary look on Mira's face and quickly backtracked. "I mean, ew, why? He's so NOT my type."

With an exasperated sigh, Mira ran a finger through her hair.

"Should I just dye my hair a different color? Ugh, like hell I would. Why’d they have to have the same color as me?"

"You look better anyway!" Zoey encouraged, flailing her arms. "Don't let them get to you. I’m not letting Mystery get to me, too... although, he is kind of my type—I mean, who said that!"

Bobby tried to get a word in, but the girls were too busy complaining. He didn’t even know where Rumi had gone—she’d just suddenly left. It wasn’t rare for the girls to get chaotic, but that didn’t make it any easier.

"But isn’t this great? It’s what the fans want. Maybe it’d be a good idea to have another one tomorrow..." he trailed off, thinking it might not be such a bad idea.

Oh well. Why not?

And so, here they were: another Huntrix x Saja Boys fansign event, with the same seating arrangement as yesterday. The fans were coming in hot—it even looked like there were more of them this time. Some wore miromabby shirts and held up edited ship posters.

"Hey, it’s nice seeing you again." Romance wrapped his arms behind Mira’s chair, leaning slightly at her side. From the corner of her eye, she could see some fans going wild. She ignored him and looked the other way—only to find Abby already staring. He grinned in that boyish charm of his, also leaning in close. "Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but here we are."

Her heart skipped a beat but she snapped out of it, shaking her head. She faced forward and shoved both guys' faces away from her. The fans were in a ruckus, and she couldn’t understand why.

With furrowed brows, she greets the first fan that comes up. Great, he's wearing a miromabby shirt.

"Cool shirt you got there. I don't remember taking it though." Abby commented, giving the guy a thumbs up.

Of course, he doesn't remember. It was clearly fake. A photoshopped picture of them with the two guys wrapping their arm on Mira's shoulders and she just had to be in the middle.

She furiously signed another fans poster, but doesn't forget to smile and thank them after. Abby and Romance won't stop staring at her and taking up her space.

"Can you two not?" Mira muttered under her breath.

Abby straightened with a dramatic sigh. "I don't like the number two. Let's be three instead."

"Oh my god," Mira groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I’m going to lose it."

Romance leaned back in his chair. "Can’t blame us nor the fans for having good taste."

"You do make a good centerpiece for a love triangle," Abby added.

Heat crawled up to her face and she glared at them both.

"Go bother someone else," she snapped, grabbing a sharpie and aggressively signing the next fan’s poster. The poor girl looked simultaneously thrilled and terrified.

Abby pouted, "Why would we? Don't wanna."

A sudden squeal erupted from the line of fans. A group of them were holding up a massive printed banner: "MiRoMAbby FOREVER 💖"—complete with photoshopped wedding photos and glittery pink text.

Zoey peeked over. "Whoa. That’s, like, next-level editing. I almost believed it was real."

"Don’t say it out loud! They’ll think it’s encouragement!"

These people had Mira stressed out. She glanced at the other end of the table where Rumi and Jinu was in. It was impossible to spot Rumi from the way Jinu was blocking her view with his back. Why's that guy all over her?

"You really should be focusing," Romance took her hand that's holding the pen and guided it to sign the next poster. Their fingers interlocked.

His hand was warm, and it was creeping up to her body. Romance doesn't let go. He stared at her face, taking in the faint blush on her cheeks despite her frown.

"Hey..." He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "You should come with us after this."

"Shut up." She whispered back harshly, hating how her heart was now beating wildly.

Abby twisted his finger on her hair, playing with it softly. "Pay me some attention too, Mira."

Oh, someone help her.

________

click for part 2

________

first time I posted here. i had the sudden urge and here we are. that's my short contribution to this ship. might write more.

also, idk but huntrix songs>>>saja boys songs for me. their vocals are insaneeee. gotta give my girls more love cus what. their songs on repeat 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

[penelopehere]

Being A Demon HCs With Saja Boys

Jinu

The only demons he’s familiar with are the ones Gwi-Ma sent to help him on his mission

Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to remember who you were, only focusing on getting his memory erased

Would only go out of his way to interact with you if you acted out and proved to be a threat to his plans

He would get reports of a demon purposefully stopping others from harvesting souls and often going rouge, disappearing for periods at a time

At first he’d be absolutely pissed, sending others to hunt you down and get rid of you

However, the more you manage to evade them, the curiouser he got

There was no reason you should be standing in the way of Gwi-Ma, and the fact that you managed to act out despite his voice in your head astounded him

That’s when he decides to seek you out himself

He’d instantly go in to attack, trying to see if the stories he heard about you were true

Would be making a lot of snide comments as well, still annoyed at the fact that you were in his way

When you managed to evade him over and over again, disappearing the moment he turned his back towards you, he’d be a lot more open to just getting you to talk

Would act innocent at first, raising his hands when he saw you and clarifying that he was alone

He would doubt that you managed to escape Gwi-Ma’s voice, asking what you had to gain from acting out like this

Would be in heavy denial about a demon being able to go off and be free like you were, since he wasn’t able to

Eventually however, he begins to wonder if it was really possible and he could do it as well

Begins to manipulate you a lot, trying to get you to open up about your past and reveal your inner shame as well as how you managed to overcome it

Would also open up to you, only revealing parts of his history since he was mainly doing this so you’d let down your guard

Sometimes uses his tiger and bird to find you to convince you to meet up and trust him more

However, when he sees how genuine you are with not wanting to be like the other demons, his behaviour shifts

His becomes more caring, empathizing with you a lot more and purposefully warning you of upcoming attacks so you weren’t anywhere near them

If any other demon found you and tried to hurt you or bring you back to Gwi-Ma, he would quickly get rid of them

Wanted you to be his secret

Even the other members of the group weren’t fully aware of his relationship with you, only knowing that a rogue demon took up a lot of his attention

But the moment he realises how close he was getting to you, he’d immediately distance himself and not give any explanation as to why

You’d have to be the one to confront him, asking what went wrong and why he’s acting so weird

He’d then snap back at you, saying not all demons could live your life and it wasn’t easy to just change

From there he would ignore your advances, purposefully avoiding you if you ever tried to seek him out again

It’d only be during a confrontation, where you were in some sort of danger with demons or hunters, would he step in and bring you away from the fight

He’d be checking you over for injuries, practically ignoring your words as you continuously asked why he abandoned you

It’d take a lot of coaxing, but eventually he’d confess he cared too much about you and didn’t want to feel vulnerable

It’d be best if you didn’t try to pry any further, cause he wouldn’t want to explain himself

From there you’d have to take control of the relationship, with him being less sure of his actions now that he realized his feelings for you came from a genuine place

If you were patient though, things would eventually evolve into something more loving

Neither of you would officially acknowledge it, with the words ‘dating’ accidentally slipping out one day and neither of you correcting it

Would be a lot more teasing, being relentless with his playful jabs and insults

Often times enjoys spending quiet time with you, with both of you doing your own thing but still touching in some way

Loves to explain things to you, especially new things he’s learned about the human world that he knows you’re not familiar with

Sometimes, in more intimate moments, he’ll open up about his history with his family and how much regret he has from it

You’ll have to be the one to constantly pull him from Gwi-Ma’s voice

Doesn’t fully stray away from his plan to erase his memories, so he tries to avoid the topic with you since he doesn’t want to argue

Is infatuated with your markings, never even considering demon traits could be beautiful until he met you

Would enjoy training together to develop your demon abilities, since it was fun but also so he knows you’ll be safe when he’s gone

Will also make sure you have access to souls to feed on if you needed it, regardless of your opinion of harming humans

Would do everything in his power to make sure Gwi-Ma never got a hold on you again, even considering turning against the overlord if it came to it

Baby

Often goes off and does his own thing away from the group, so getting his attention even as a fellow demon would be difficult

However if you also had a rebellious side he’d be at least a little intrigued

Like if you wandered off during missions and overall just didn’t care that much about Jinu or Gwi-Ma’s plan

Just toeing the line between doing the bare minimum and being a liability, so you managed to fly under the radar for a while

If you also liked to mess with others, whether it’s demons or humans, he’d be even more interested in you

Would do whatever it took to get a reaction out of you

Followed you around constantly, and would act even worse if you ignored him

He’d repeat questions over and over again like a toddler, or poke you until you acknowledged him

Would definitely tease you a lot, making fun of how you basically worked for him and that he was the reason you could get souls

From this he would also try to pry into your personal life, curious about who you were and how you became a demon

However, anytime you even considered doing something rebellious, he would be right by your side and force himself to be apart of it

There’d be no point in trying to stop him, since you were both equally stubborn and would spend hours arguing with each other

The other members would notice his interest in you, especially with how often he wandered off to go find you

Eventually would force you to come with him, dragging you to rehearsals, meetings etc

Anytime you tried to leave, he’d basically drag you back and place you in your own little corner to chill in

The group didn’t care that much, slightly relieved Baby had someone to focus all his mischievous energy on

That was until the two of you teamed up and began pranking the other members

Then everyone began to be a lot more cautious if you were anywhere near each other

Neither of you talked about your emotions that much, mainly hanging out in silence or planning your next stunt

There was no doubt you guys had a connection though, not that either of you would admit to it

The only way something would change in your relationship is if you had to leave the human world, whether that be because you got in too much trouble or if the mission no longer needed you

Baby would try everything in his power to make sure you could stay with him

Would be lowkey about it, going to other members to casually ask if they could do anything or just full on threatening lower ranked demons in secret

Would go as far as getting rid of other demons so you could replace them and stay

Even considered going back to the demon world with you, but the other members wouldn’t allow it

Eventually you’d confront him on this, not wanting to make a big deal out of having to leave since you were unsure about his feelings towards you

This would force him to accidentally confess, causing the two of you to go silent for a couple moments

He’d ask if you felt the same way, and when you admitted to it, neither of you would know how to act at first

To break the tension Baby would probably begin teasing you about your ‘crush’ on him until you did it back

From then on the two of you would be inseparable, the members having no choice but to make sure you stayed in the human world

If they didn’t then Baby would leave and the mission would be put at risk

He stays by your side no matter what, basically hovering around you since he finds comfort in your presence

In more private settings, he loves to have you resting against one another

Would develop the most insane tricks to scare humans, even incorporating these acts into performances or interviews sometimes

Also uses it to get souls, getting satisfaction out of the torment they experience

The two of you also get scolded the most out of the group

Loves to make posts with you, even showing off your markings sometimes saying it was just ‘makeup’

Even does this with your fangs and eyes on occasion, loving your demon form and enjoying how risky it was just revealing it on the internet

If you ever felt insecure about being a demon, or if Gwi-Ma’s voice became too overwhelming, he’d try to reassure you with his actions

Like by calling you dumb for even thinking such a thing, while pulling you closer and draping his arm around you as he rested his chin on your head

Romance

He practically obsesses over getting attention from fans in the human world, mainly using demons to further push his image as an idol

So it’d be hard for him to develop a genuine connection with you if you were just assisting the, in the mission

However, if you were someone back in the demon world that knew him before he became a Saja Boy, he would remember you

The two of you only interacted a couple times, too busy with surviving and finding ways to get souls

However, the kindness and respect you showed him in those rare moments still left an impression

Automatically places you in high regard because of it

When he got put on Jinu’s mission, he managed to get you assigned with them

It gave him an excuse to spend more time together and he was eager to get to know you more

Would use his charming personality as a front since it was so successful in getting human fans

Used you as a ‘stand in’ for fans and interviewers, telling you pick up lines and constantly touching you in some way in an attempt to catch your interest

Even tried to help you develop your own human form, making sure you guys has matching styles

Everything he did felt disingenuous at first, feeling like he was just trying to manipulate you into liking him

While in reality, Romance would overthink constantly about how you perceived him and what kind of person you wanted him to be

Everyone in the group was well aware of his little crush on you, constantly teasing him about it since he acted so fake with you

This would make him consider being more vulnerable with, even if the very thought of doing so frightened him

So at some point, when the two of you were alone, he would open up to the stress he faces because of this mission and Gwi-Ma’s voice

He used it as a way to explain why he was hesitant to be sincere when you first met, feeling insecure about his true personality

It would take a while for you to fully let your guard down, still unsure if anything he was telling you was true or if he had some ulterior motive

But eventually you’d see he was being genuine, allowing you to develop a proper relationship with him

You’d also open up about hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice in your head, the two of you supporting each other and talking it out whenever things got really bad

He’d definitely be the one to confess, planning everything out to the smallest detail and getting the other members to help him make sure it was perfect

He’d do all the stereotypical things, like giving you roses, lighting candles, taking a walk with you in the moonlight

However at the end of the night, all his plans go out the window

After looking into your eyes, he knew he would do anything to make sure you were happy

He told you how he felt about you, that you were different from anyone else that he met and how you made him feel things he didn’t think were possible

Around you he felt confident in who he was and loved, despite being a demon

After hearing your response, saying you felt the same way, he’d be so overcome with emotion that he’d just hold onto you; not wanting to let go

Now that you were dating, he was lot less extravagant with the PDA since he feels more secure with you

Still likes to be touching at all times though so he knows you’re there

Also keeps on flirting with fans, taking his role in the group very seriously and wanting the Saja Boys to succeed

However reassures you though that he belongs with you, through both his actions and words

Especially since he can’t go out with you while being overly affectionate, due to his role as the ‘flirt’ of the group

Is constantly checking on your wellbeing, making sure you were handling being in the human world well and had enough souls to feast on

Becomes a lot more secure with his demon form since he loves the markings and fangs you have

However he does enjoy pretending to human with you, loving how you let him style your appearance

On special occasions he finds ways to go dates with you in public, charming his way out of it when confronted during interviews and fan meets

Abby

To get his attention you’d have to be on the team somehow and working closely with him

So your role would most likely be one of the demons that follows the group at all times, acting as a form of protection in case any hunters come by or if human fans want to see them when they’re busy

He would mainly interact with you by making a few side comments, saying he could protect everyone himself because of how strong he was

It’d only be after seeing you in battle would he start to take you seriously

Would constantly ask you to spar with him, taunting you if you kept saying no

Eventually he’d just try to sneak attack you, getting frustrated when you’d just disappear or ignore him

If you fought back he’d be ecstatic, giving it his all and expecting you to do the same

Losing would make him distraught, immediately demanding a rematch

However if he won, don’t expect him to ever let you forget it

Would probably be so annoying that you instigated the next sparring match

From then on he’d subconsciously try to get your validation by trying to be better than you at things

No matter how small the task, he’d insist he could beat you at it

Basically everything became a competition, and he would spend most of his free time just being around you because of it

Everyone in the group probably realised that he liked you before he did and they’d tease him relentlessly about it

Out of principle he’d deny it, sounding like a little kid throwing a tantrum

However if you ended up finding out about this, most likely by overhearing one of the members saying it, he’d get a lot more flustered

Began stuttering and backtracking on all his words, not truly knowing how he felt

You’d have to take control of the conversation, admitting your feeling first so he could calm down

Honestly short circuits, not talking for a few moments as he focuses on your words and forgets everything he was thinking

Tries to be causal when he says he likes you too, eventually saying he expected it because of how strong he was

Still tries to constantly impress you, however now it’s more so about skills and talents he has

This mainly includes his cooking, always wanting you to try whatever he makes

Will take your opinion very seriously, especially since you weren’t familiar with human food and he wants your experience with it to be perfect

Is okay with redoing things over and over again until they taste just right

Would fall even deeper in love if you asked him to teach you how to cook, brushing it off by bragging about how he’s the best teacher you’ll ever have

Also has you help with a few of his dance moves, loving how you can keep up with him cause your both demons

Is constantly hugging you and putting his arm over your shoulder, almost like he’s trying to draw you in closer whenever you’re nearby

Also continues to spar with you a lot, playfully jabbing you and escalating it to the point where one of you is pinned to the group

But he is more open to both of you improving your fighting technique, taking the time to show each other effective attacks and defences

He still has a short temper, often letting his demon attributes coming out when he gets mad, however he appreciates that you can match his energy and stand up for yourself

Also loves seeing your demon attributes getting more enhanced when you get pissed, loving how unapologetic you are with being inhumane

He thinks it makes you seem more authentic

The only reason he would try to convince you to have a human form is so he could go out in public with you and show yourself off as a power couple

Also tries to do the same thing around demons, bragging about how the two of you could probably defeat the hunters by yourself

But if you ever did doubt yourself, whether that be because of your own thoughts of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he’d do his best to reassure you

Would give you praise, stating every compliment as if it was a fact before finding something fun or relaxing to do to take your mind off things

Mystery

He usually stays quiet in large groups, so you wouldn’t really catch his interest by being a demon that hangs around the members

He also didn't make that many connections in the demon world, so he wouldn’t know you from there either

Most likely you’re a soul collector, going between both realms and eventually catching his eye

This is because he found it interesting how you managed to blend into the shadows and disappear, similarly to how how did

He’d follow you every now and then, keeping an eye on how you lure humans away and find them in moments of weakness

You wouldn’t even notice him at first because of how quiet he was

At most you’d notice something in the corner of your eye, or feel like someone was watching you

However, when you looked around, no one would be there

The only way you’d properly meet is if he decided to approached you out of sheer interest and curiosity, appearing at your side and accidentally scaring you

You recognised him of course, with the Saja Boys being the whole reason as to why demons like yourself could collect souls

He wouldn’t say much, merely staring at you and then immediately disappearing in a cloud of smoke

These interactions would get slightly longer and longer overtime, with him eventually just walking behind you and hovering while you did your job

You never really asked him to leave you alone, since he rarely interfered with what you were doing

The only times he’d step in is if you were about to get caught

If it was by a human, he would come from behind and take the soul from their body, before retreating into the shadows once again

However if it was a hunter, he would pull you into a hiding spot, even going as far as transporting away with you if he thought things were too risky

On some more rare occasions though, you’d also see him tormenting a few of his own humans while you were out hunting

Sometimes to steal their soul, but often just scaring them to the point of tears

The first time you heard him spoke was simultaneously fighting and calming, not expecting him to actually say anything but strangely loving the way his voice sounded

He still didn’t speak much though, only saying a few words every now and then

Because of this, whenever you guys were around each other, it’d be a comfortable silence or you’d be talking to yourself

You’d most likely open up to him on accident because of this, not even fully realising that your guard was down until much later

Despite his eccentric nature, you’d still find it calming to just be around him

From this an odd friendship would form, the two of you finding solace in the other’s presence despite not truly knowing much about each other

Eventually you’d hang out with him in front of the other members, just sitting in silence and doing your own thing

However the group didn’t question it

They had a small suspicion he was doing something like this, but they would have also believed he just found a stray cat he really liked

You would slowly begin staying at their house more and more, everyone else just leaving the two of you alone since you seemed to be getting along

The only way your relationship would move forward is if another member questioned if you guys were dating

Neither of you knew how to answer that, just staring at each other

You decided to have a conversation about it when you guys were alone, finally saying that you both liked one another

At first you thought nothing in your relationship would change, immediately turning around to walk back towards the house

However, when Mystery reached out and gave you a back hug, holding you from behind for a few moments, you were glad that some things were going to change for the better

He would become much more affectionate in his own way

Always having his arm draped over you somehow or has your pinkies locked together

Loves helping you collect souls, especially when you play with the humans for a bit first before devouring them

Personally prefers his demon form over his human one, so is most likely in it when he’s around you cause it makes him more comfortable

However he would also enjoy helping you develop a human form, implementing it when you guys go hunting

If you ever became too overwhelmed with being a demon, specifically because of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he would quietly take you into his arms and whisper words of reassurance if you needed it; promising he would keep you safe

[isabelckl]

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 3

nerdy loser!ellie x popular mean fem!reader

bored in english, you reply to a girl named E you’ve been talking to on an anonymous gay dating app—without knowing it’s that lesbian nerd girl, ellie williams.

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 2

The rest of the month bled together in that soft, glowing kind of way—every day bookmarked by the same routine. E in the morning. E during class. E when you were brushing your teeth or pretending to do homework. You talked about everything. Or nothing.

She kept you sharp. Made you laugh when your head was splitting from school noise. Kept you just distracted enough to forget you were tired all the time. And somewhere along the way, you stopped wondering who she was. Because it felt like she already knew you. Not the polished version people saw. You.

You’d stopped counting how many pictures you’d sent. Nothing technically scandalous. But enough to make her say “i’m not strong enough for this” at least three times a week.

You were on your phone, sprawled out in your usual seat in English—last sub of the day, last brain cell left.

You:

im on my last sub rn. talk to u later :(

E:

don’t think about me too much while you’re in class

You smirked.

You:

oh i will. especially us doing unholy things rn

E:

i’m blocking u.

You:

no ur not. u love it

You were still grinning like an idiot when the classroom door slammed open. Everyone scrambled to pretend they weren’t just throwing paper balls or stealing someone’s chair.

Ms. Alvarez was already holding a clipboard, face grim. “Alright, settle down. We’re starting a new graded requirement today—your final literature project. Half of your term grade will come from this. I’m pairing you up.”

Groans some cheers exploded. You barely registered it, still texting E something about being the main character in a forbidden library romance.

Until you heard your name.

“...and Ellie Williams.”

Your head snapped up, blinking.

A few snickers came from behind you, your friends catching it instantly.

One of them patted your shoulder, barely hiding a grin. “Oh, girl. Should we start worrying?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother to answer.

Then a voice you hated piped up. Some guy you’ve never liked, probably trying to be funny.

“Maybe you could just show her your tits and she’ll do the work for you.”

You turned. Instantly.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped. Loud enough for people to hear.

He put his hands up, smirking. “Just suggesting.”

Ms. Alvarez didn’t seem to hear, or maybe she was pretending not to. “You’ll have six weeks. You’ll be required to sit beside your assigned partner during this class for the entire project period.”

Some complaints, some high-fives.

You grabbed your bag, eyes scanning. Ellie was still seated, alone near the front, chin in hand.

You made your way over slowly. She was on her phone, thumb tapping something out fast.

“Hey,” you said, soft and casual.

Her head snapped up. Like, immediately. Her phone vanished into her hoodie pocket so fast it was almost suspicious.

You raised your eyebrows slightly, not saying anything.

“Hey,” she replied, voice a little rough around the edges, like she’d just cleared it.

She blinked once, then moved quickly—grabbing the things from her desk and tucking them into her bag on the floor, her sketchpad sliding in last. Then, without saying anything, she reached out and dragged the desk and chair beside her, pulling them close in one fluid motion. The legs scraped loudly against the tile.

You cleared your throat, lowered into the seat, and placed your bag on top of the desk. One hand stayed tucked in the pocket of your skirt, curled loosely around your phone.

You didn’t say anything else and neither did she.

You both just sat there as Ms. Alvarez started droning about the project.

“This is a character-driven piece. Something with personal stakes. Introspection. Conflict. Subtext. You have six weeks.”

You barely heard her.

You unlocked your phone under the desk.

You:

i just wanna go home now and talk to you

(not being clingy)

You smirked without meaning to, biting the inside of your cheek.

Then waited.

Ms. Alvarez was saying something at the front—project guidelines, probably. But her voice felt like it was coming through a thick wall of static. You just kept your gaze on your screen. Quiet. Expectant.

Still nothing.

She usually replied right away. Even in class. Even with “busy” in her bio.

You stared at the chat a moment longer, thumb hovering over the screen. Not that you were being clingy. Obviously.

You bit your lip and glanced sideways.

Ellie was hunched over her notebook, scrawling notes in the margin like her life depended on it. Her leg bounced under the desk. Her grip on the pen was tight. Too tight. Like it might snap in half if she pressed any harder.

You sighed, leaned back in your seat, and slid your phone back into your pocket.

Your eyes stayed on the front of the room, but you weren’t really listening. Words blurred. The only thing in focus was that weird thrum in your chest. Like something off-key in a song you’ve heard too many times.

After a moment, your eyes drifted back to Ellie.

Her auburn hair was tied loosely at the base of her neck, strands slipping free at the sides and curling against her cheek. Her eyes flicked between the teacher and her notes, sharp and serious, like she was actually locked in.

You stared.

Just for a second too long.

Her brows were pinched in thought. She twirled her pen once, adjusted the way she sat, and pulled her hoodie sleeve down over her hand like she was trying to disappear into it.

You pressed your lips together, fingers tapping soundlessly against your arm as you crossed them tight over your chest, waiting for your phone to buzz.

Ms. Alvarez finally wrapped up her monologue with something about “use your time wisely” and “brainstorming starts now.” Then she sank into her desk like she was already exhausted by all of you.

Ellie cleared her throat, then quietly turned toward you.

She pushed her notebook halfway across the desk, her handwriting a little messy but precise enough to follow. She didn’t look at you at first—just tapped the edge of the page once, offering it like a peace treaty.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk and your chin on your knuckles. Watching her.

She glanced up, finally meeting your eyes. “Do you have anything in mind?”

You did.

Maybe E.

But you didn’t say that, of course.

Instead, you reached over and plucked the pen from her hand. Your fingers brushed for just a second—warm

You lowered your eyes and started scribbling into the corner of her notes.

Fantasy. Coming-of-age. Drama. Romance. Sapphic.

You underlined the last one.

When you slid the notebook back, she tilted her head at it. Just slightly. Her eyes skimmed the list, and then her lips twitched—barely noticeable. But it was there.

“Sapphic,” she repeated, like she was tasting the word.

You shrugged, eyes flicking up. “Just a suggestion.”

She looked at you again. Not judgmental. Not even surprised.

You raised your eyebrows at her—challenging, almost daring her to say something.

Ellie leaned back slightly. Her voice dropped just a little. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice low and husky. “I mean… you’ve got a reputation.”

You didn’t bother hiding the eye roll that followed.

With one hand, you slid the notebook back across the desk toward her. “You can suggest what you think,” you said flatly. Calm. Measured.

She picked up the pen again and wrote underneath:

Agreed.

You raised your eyebrows again.

That’s it? She just… agreed?

“No suggestions?” you asked, skeptical. “Nothing on your mind? You just agreed we write a sapphic book?”

Ellie didn’t even look up. “Nope,” she said, the pen already back in her hand, sketching something random in the corner of the page. A shape. A line. A loop.

You narrowed your eyes at her, gaze flicking over her blank expression. “Well,” you muttered, scanning her with a mock offense, “I expected something much more from you. I mean, you’re the nerd here.”

That earned a glance—sideways, brief. The corner of her mouth tugged, like she was fighting off a smirk.

“Well, I also didn’t expect you to suggest writing a sapphic book,” she replied, dry.

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

Ellie shrugged. “You’ve got a reputation, remember?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just let out a breathy scoff, leaning forward on your elbows again, voice low but pointed. “I just told our classmate to shut the fuck up because he said I could show you my tits and you’d do the work for me. Do you think I care about reputation?”

That caught her.

Ellie blinked, startled for a beat, then let out a short breath—half laugh, half disbelief. “Jesus,” she muttered, her gaze flicking to yours. “Didn’t know you were like that even in personal.”

You frowned. “Huh? Like what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just glanced down at the notes again, something unreadable twitching in her expression.

You scoffed softly and leaned back, arms folding across your chest again. Your eyes darted to Ms. Alvarez, who was now busy at her desk, rifling through a drawer.

“And oh, please,” you said, dry. “It’s not like Ms. Alvarez isn’t gay either.”

Ellie looked at you, blinking.

“That’s why she has no husband at her age,” you went on, tone casual like you were talking about the weather. “She likes girls. And the rumors, Ellie—you’ve heard them. She won’t mind reading a sapphic piece.”

You tilted your head, lips twitching.

“I bet she’ll like it very much.”

Ellie stared at you for a moment longer and looked away.

But not before you caught it—that flicker of a smirk, barely there.

She shook her head once, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Unbelievable,” and went back to scribbling.

Ellie tapped her pen a few times against the edge of the desk, then tilted her head slightly.

“So,” she said. “What’s it gonna be? Angsty? Enemies to lovers?”

You squinted at her, lips already twitching. Then, without saying a word, you reached out—snatching her notebook and pen in one smooth motion.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard.

You scribbled one word in bold, all caps:

SMUT.

Then slid it back to her with a raised brow and the kind of smug grin you only pulled when you were being very annoying on purpose.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Smut?” she repeated, slow, confused. “How… it’s not appropriate, I think.”

You bit back a laugh. “Of course it’s not,” you scoffed. “I’m just fucking with you.”

She stared at the word a second longer.

You plucked the notebook back and crossed out SMUT with a dramatic scribble, then started writing again beneath it.

“Anyway, I think something like friends to lovers or whatever,” you said, voice a little more thoughtful now. “It’s the easiest for me to write.”

You kept jotting down rough plot beats, loose ideas—nothing concrete yet. Just bullet points. Your handwriting was starting to drift sideways, slanted and lazy.

When you glanced up again, Ellie was watching you.

Her chin rested in her hand, elbow propped against the desk, eyes steady on your face like she was studying something. Like she was seeing a new side of you. Quiet. Focused.

There was something unguarded about her in that moment. Something soft around the edges. Like maybe—for just a second—she forgot to keep her usual walls up.

You paused, blinking. “What?”

She didn’t answer nor move.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh,” you said slowly, tilting your head to mirror her. “You’re interested in writing that smut?”

That seemed to break the spell.

Ellie blinked, straightened slightly. “No,” she muttered, her voice low and curt as she grabbed the notebook back from you.

You watched her quietly as she flipped to a clean page and started jotting something down like nothing happened. Like she hadn’t just been staring at you for maybe… kind of a long time.

Her pen scratched against the paper. Her face calm again. Composed. But her ears were slightly pink.

“You’re red,” you said, your voice teasing, a smirk tugging at the edge of your lips.

Ellie didn’t look up. “It’s warm in here.”

You raised a brow. “Right. Sure it is.”

She clicked her pen once—sharp, deliberate—then turned to you with a look so flat it could’ve been carved from stone.

“Better red than desperate for plot-driven foreplay,” she said, completely deadpan.

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, scandalized. “You are thinking about the smut.”

Ellie didn’t respond. Just returned to her notes like nothing happened, but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

You grinned, triumphant.

You watched her for another beat, amused. “You didn’t deny it.”

Ellie didn’t look up, but her pen paused. “I’m ignoring you.”

You leaned over, voice lower now. “You’re failing miserably.”

That got you a side glance. Brief. Sharp. But not annoyed. More like she was trying not to smile and losing the battle entirely.

You tapped her notebook with your nail. “So, what is this groundbreaking lesbian epic we’re writing?”

“Plot ideas,” she said, clearing her throat. “Since you keep distracting me.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Am I allowed to see, or are you gonna bite me if I try?”

Without a word, she tilted the notebook your way.

You leaned closer.

There was a character with too many feelings and a bad temper. Another one with trust issues and what looked like “shitty taste in people” scribbled in parentheses.

You frowned, eyes skimming back over the notes. “‘Shitty taste in people’?”

Ellie didn't say anything at first, just twirled her pen between her fingers, like maybe if she spun it fast enough, she wouldn’t have to answer. But eventually, she shrugged.

“Some people keep going back to things that hurt them. It’s realistic.”

You stared at her for a beat. The way she said it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t dramatic either—just honest, like she’d written that trait from experience, not imagination.

You leaned back a little. “Nope.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“Nope,” you repeated, already reaching for the notebook. “Too depressing. I’m not writing about heartbreak or sad girls with commitment issues. I’ve got enough of that in real life.”

She didn’t stop you as you turned to a fresh page, clicking your own pen open with purpose. “Let’s try this again.”

You started scribbling, words forming in fast, slanted loops.

Two characters. Childhood friends who lost touch. One returns unexpectedly. Maybe there’s a stupid school festival involved. Maybe someone’s in denial. Maybe they’re both idiots, and it takes a whole novella of almosts before anything actually happens.

You glanced sideways to find Ellie watching your hand move. She didn’t interrupt. Just kept staring like she was trying to match the rhythm of your pen to the shape of your thoughts.

You paused, tapped the page. “This is better.”

Ellie tilted her head. “Friends to lovers?”

You nodded. “Less depressing. More yearning.”

“Yearning is depressing.”

“It’s a good ache.”

She was quiet for a second, then let out a tiny exhale—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Alright,” she murmured. “Let’s write something stupid and soft.”

Ellie took the pen from your hand without asking and leaned over the notebook again, brow furrowed in thought. You didn’t say anything. Just watched her as she wrote—quiet, focused, occasionally pausing to tap the pen against her chin. The sunlight from the classroom windows had shifted, painting her in a late afternoon haze of gold and orange. It softened the sharp lines of her face, caught in the ends of her lashes and the auburn strands slipping from her hoodie.

She looked like a photograph that could blur if you stared too long.

The bell finally rang, loud and abrupt. Ms. Alvarez raised her voice over the sudden scrape of chairs and chattering students, tossing out reminders about deadlines and word count minimums. Nobody listened.

Ellie shut the notebook with a quiet thud and began gathering her things, slipping the sketchpad into her bag and adjusting the strap of her guitar case. You stood, grabbing your own bag from the desk and sliding your phone from your skirt pocket out of habit.

Your fingers unlocked the screen before you could stop them, eyes drifting to your last message to E. Still no reply. You stared at it for a moment longer than you meant to. The bubble of words just sitting there. Unseen. Unanswered.

You let out a breath, sharp and quiet, then turned to Ellie just as she slung the guitar over her shoulder.

“By the way,” you said, holding your phone out toward her, “I need your number.”

She glanced at you, nodded, and took your phone without a word. Her fingers moved fast, thumb flying across the screen before she handed it back and silently offered her own. You typed yours in, quick and neat, and gave it back with a nod.

The room was already half-empty, filled with leftover noise and footsteps in the hall.

You walked out, phone back in your hand, your thumb instinctively brushing over the screen. You opened your messages again.

Still nothing.

Your eyes stayed on it as you moved with the current of students spilling into the hallway—sunlight flickering across lockers and tile. You didn’t notice when Ellie fell in step beside you until she asked, casually, like it was nothing.

“You waiting for someone to text you back?” Ellie said as she walked past, not even slowing down.

You blinked, glanced up—but she was already a few steps ahead, her guitar slung over her back, hoodie pulled up.

You didn’t answer. Just looked down at your phone again, just as a message from E lit up your screen.

Your chest tightened with that familiar tug—the kind you only ever felt with her.

tag list:

@eclipcee8 @darkdanixoxo @chappellroankisser @senjukawaragitr @saverdelrey @appleofmyii @wzcoffeefloomo @fatbootymuncher @oneinameliann @ilahrawr @spiderx18 @vampirq @mioluvzsevika @ff4mi @ggutpunch @ellies-dinosaur @butchchase @bambiaches @velvetinkbym @rhian88 @azxteria @yxsmina @zaunite-516 @sweetshrew @eriiwaiii2 @bluminescent-moon @elliespotion @mascspleasegetmepregnant @dykeissih @babydoll-ivory @summerdaysout @tiedinbows @eilishfike @vixenkii

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Stiles snuck a look at Derek from the corner of his eye, sitting in the booth beside him, before inching his hand towards Derek's plate. He quickly snuck a few curly fries, having finished his in five minutes of being served. His eyes caught Lydia's who was sitting across from him and he blushed when she raised an eyebrown at him, sticking his tongue out at her before chomping down on the fries. Seeing Derek still distracted talking to Boyd, he snuck a few more handfuls from his plate.

Without stopping his conversation with Boyd, Derek slid the rest of his fries off his plate and onto Stiles'. Stiles looked at him in surprise, his scent sweetening with love and happiness, making Derek turn to him.

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple and asked, "Want some more, baby?" He didn't wait for Stiles' reply, instead calling over the waitress and placing an additional order for the curly fries.

Stiles flushed red and kissed Derek's shoulder, leaning his head there after. Derek shifted his arm to curl around Stiles' waist and pulled him in closer. Stiles picked up a fry and held it to Derek's mouth, giggling when Derek playfully snapped his teeth around his fingers.

"You two are disgusting," Scott complained, wrinkling his nose.

"I think it's sweet," Erica simpered.

"Thank you, Erica," Stiles pointedly said towards Scott. "We're no less disgusting than you and Allison."

Scott opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Derek said, "Enough."

"Yeah, Scott, enough," Stiles added, throwing a teasing look at Scott.

"Love," Derek sighed, an exasperated fond look on his face.

"What? He started it!" Stiles exclaimed, pointing at Scott.

Derek rolled his eyes and mumbled, "I'm surrounded by a bunch of children."

"Children, huh? I'll show you children," Stiles murmured, scooping a dollop of ketchup onto his pointer finger and smearing it on Derek's cheek.

Derek leaned away from him and hissed, "Seriously? We're in public, baby."

Stiles just raised his brows at him in response, in a 'what are you going to do about it' way. Derek smirked and locked his arms Stiles, who shrieked and wiggled trying to get away. Derek leaned in and smushed his cheek against Stiles', spreading the ketchup on both of them.

"How do you like that?" Derek teased, pulling back but still keeping Stiles in his arms.

Stiles' answer got cut off by the arrival of the waitress who asked them to be a bit quieter as the other patrons were being disturbed.

Derek's ears turned red in a blush and Stiles' cooed at him, licking the ketchup from his cheek before pressing a few kisses there.

"I don't know why I still hang out with you guys," Lydia snarked, looking at them with a disgusted expression.

"Cause you love us, Lyds," Stiles crooned as Derek wiped the ketchup off Stiles' face with a tissue paper.

[oaksgrove]

hi love! I hope you're doing alright ♡

im here to request a tiny, little angsty piece. I can picture John being so, so tired from work that he just can't stand being touched, but his beloved needs it so badly, so they go for it (holding his hand) —don't get them wrong, they always ask! but they also had a bad day. John snaps, accidentally smacking their hand away.

little angst, with John comforting withdrawn neurodivergent reader after he accidentally snaps at them, which turns into them comforting each other because "you're tired - no, you are tired", until John moves to seek their touch himself

Tired.

Pairing: John Price x Neurodivergent!Reader

Synopsis: Some days are too much. Too loud, too bright, too sharp. When the world presses in, you don’t need grand gestures. You just need John to understand.

Warning: Sensory overload, brief miscommunication/startled response, hurt/comfort, soft reconciliation

The kettle was screaming again.

High-pitched. Piercing. It had only just started, but it dragged across your nerves like nails on glass. You stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, jumper sleeves stretched down past your hands and gripped tight in your fists.

It was just a kettle.

But it wasn’t.

The hallway light was flickering again, same as yesterday, the bulb stuttering in the corner of your vision. The drawer next to the stove was open again—your carefully organized cutlery now out of order, one large spoon stuffed awkwardly into the teaspoon slot like a mistake you couldn’t fix. And the boots—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

John’s heavy steps across the kitchen floor, back and forth, back and forth like a pacing bear in a too-small cage. He was muttering again, voice low but rough with frustration.

“Fucking brass—changing the op schedule last minute—bloody nightmare—”

You winced.

You weren’t scared of him. Never had been. But the noise, the pressure, the weight of it all pressing down around your shoulders—it was too much today. Too loud. Too bright. Too off.

You didn’t even realize you’d whispered his name until his voice cut through the air, sharp and fast.

“What?” he snapped, turning with a furrowed brow, hand half-raised in mid-gesture.

It wasn’t loud. Not really.

But it cracked something in you.

Your whole body stiffened. Like a rubber band stretched too thin. Your shoulders drew up high and your chin tucked down, sleeves clenched in your fists, throat closing up.

John stopped.

Instantly.

His face changed—brows falling, mouth parting with regret blooming like a bruise behind his eyes.

“Shit—no, love—wait—” he stepped toward you quickly, one hand out, then hesitated, hovering like he didn’t want to crowd you. “I didn’t mean that. Christ, I’m sorry.”

You said nothing. You looked down.

And that was somehow worse.

“I was just—” he started again, then cut himself off with a frustrated sound, softer this time. “Fuck, I was bein’ a right bastard.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said.

You tried to breathe. The room felt too big and too tight all at once. The kettle shrieked one last time before clicking off. Still too late.

“I didn’t mean to be in your way,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—everything’s loud today. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

John stared at you. His mouth twitched like he was about to argue—but then he caught himself. He crouched a little in front of you instead, like he was trying to shrink himself. His voice lowered.

“You’re not makin’ it worse. I am,” he admitted. “I know when I get like this—loud, angry—I make things heavier. And you’re carryin’ too much as it is.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Just tried to unknot your fingers from your sleeves.

“I don’t always have the words,” you said finally, voice thin. “Some days I just… can’t talk properly. Or explain why everything feels so sharp.”

John’s gaze dropped to your hands, your tight shoulders, the way you were trying so hard to regulate even as your body rebelled against the room.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Not to me.”

You looked at him. A flicker of disbelief passed across your face.

“I’m not good at being…” you trailed off. “Easy. Or quiet. Or normal.”

John’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“I didn’t marry you because I wanted normal,” he said. “I married you because you feel like home.”

A beat of silence. The flickering light still buzzed. But it felt dimmer now—like the world had shifted, just slightly, around him.

“You’re tired,” you said softly. “You’ve been pacing since you got back.”

His mouth tugged into a wry smile. “No, you’re tired.”

You blinked. “Okay. We’re both tired.”

He huffed a warm, half-laugh. Then—very carefully—he leaned his forehead against your chest. Not heavy, just enough for you to feel the quiet weight of him.

“You always let me come back,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I act like a grumpy sod.”

Your hand came up without thinking. Just resting gently in his hair. Fingers threading through the soft, short strands at his crown.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Even when you’re a grumpy sod.”

He exhaled. His arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he murmured. “Sorry for making today harder.”

“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

You held each other for a long while—standing in the middle of the kitchen, kettle off, boots stilled, lights flickering quietly above. Nothing had changed. But everything had softened.

And when John eventually pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead, he didn’t say anything more.

He just reached over, finally closed the drawer the proper way, and turned off the light.

“C’mon, love,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll make you tea.”

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear @anonymouse1807 @twoandahalfdimes

[ssapphosviolets]

Atta Girl

Lovesick Puppydog Sevika x Reader

┈─★

Growing up in Zaun with not much money to spare usually means you either learn how to fix things yourself, or go into debt having someone else do it. So, when Sevika got her first car as a teenager, a busted up Subaru Outback, she'd quickly learned to fix things up herself. She mostly viewed having to fix up her car as a slight nuisance, annoying but necessary-

Until she met you, and came to understand the fun nuances of mechanical work. And while she never thought she would spend her off days in a car junkyard, it didn't take long for her to find enjoyment in it.

or; you and Sevika go on a date to the car pick-a-part yard

(i'm sticking to my hc that sevika drives a 1996 Volvo 850R Wagon and no one will convince me otherwise. this is my truth) ᯓ also ty to everyone who encouraged me to write this after this post i love all of you. ᯓ inspired by my most recent junkyard trip bc i snapped an ignition coil bolt on my honda and wanted an excuse to look for wheels for my celica ooops

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You can't help but yawn as you pull up your pants, still not fully awake but wanting to get out of the house before the summer heat became too unbearable. When your eyes open to catch yourself in the mirror, you notice the lighting darken and create a shadow over you as Sevika steps up behind you.

"Morning, Sev." You mumble as her hands are placed on your waist. You reach your arms up to wrap around the back of her neck, leaning back into her strong chest and letting your head fall into her as she places a kiss on the side of your temple.

"Mmm. What's up with the cargos this morning, hun?" Sevika whispers. Her hands snake around to your front, carefully pulling up the zipper in front of your stomach before pushing the button through. She tugs a little on the belt loop as one of her arms comes across to hug your chest. "You already know, babe."

"Ah, that you're gonna leave me all by myself while you spend all day giving your attention to your car. You also have love for me too, ya know." You shake your head fondly, her teasing smirk letting you know she's not serious.

She doesn't get hung up on you spending your time on your hobbies. If anything, she likes it. It's an excuse for her to have time for her own, often joining you in the garage as you both do your own things, or if she's feeling up to it even helping you out.

"Come join me then?" You ask hopeful. She nods and kisses down your cheek to your shoulder. "Of course." She mumbles into your skin. She pats your waist before pulling away to get dressed.

"Oh also, can I borrow the Volvo again? Mine mighttt not have enough room." You ask in your sweetest voice as she rounded the corner from the bathroom. You don't have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes. "Of course you can." She sighs in defeat.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

"So what the hell are we actually here for again?" Sevika asks as you both get out of her car, shutting the doors. You catch up to her long strides as you make your way to the entrance of the pick-a-part yard.

"Uhh, well I need bolts for the Honda's ignition coils cause one of them snapped yesterday. I wanna see what wheels are here too. And whatever else seems like a fun souvenir." Sevika wordlessly takes the heavy bag of tools off your shoulder to carry it herself. "I think you have enough 'souvenirs', hun. You already have a collection of steering wheels." She teases.

"Okay but what if, in the next upcoming weeks I get, let's say a.. LS300. But the shady guy I bought it from took off the steering wheel. Oh look, I have one right here. You gotta think bigger, Sevika." You say as you tap the side of her head. She chuckles reluctantly, amused by your stubbornness, all the while deep down she loves it.

She throws a heavy arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side. The sound of the gravel crunching under your guys's shoes follows the both of you as she hums, conceded. "You're right. Only cause it's you." She mumbles light-heartedly.

You smile up at her, admiring as the morning sun radiates onto her face. The patterns etched in the dark iris of her eyes glow in the light, and her dark tinted lips are relaxed into a slight smile. You love seeing her like this, especially when you compare this image of her to the Sevika you met for the first time, or the Sevika who's on the job.

The resting scowl she always wore turned to a content smile when she was around you. Her eyebrows didn't crease and her jaw wasn't clenched. Her eyes didn't look so pointed and mean, now they're soft and gentle. The way she carries herself is more relaxed, with her steps being lazier and clunkier as opposed to purposeful, and her shoulders aren't as tense.

She smiles down at you when she catches you staring, and you bashfully avert your gaze to the ground.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

While Sevika finishes checking in, you go off to grab a cart. She meets you and places the bag inside, and before you can continue she taps your hand holding the bar, gently shooing you away. You step to the side as she takes your spot, leaning her forearms on the handle as she pushes forward.

You lead the way with a hand on the side of the cart, ogling at the hundreds and hundreds of cars lined up in rows on jacks. Sevika stopped paying attention to the torn apart cars after the second row, instead finding herself fixated on you. This place really was like heaven for someone like you. And Sevika for that matter, who while not being into cars as much as you, had pretty sound knowledge of general mechanics.

Growing up in Zaun with not much money usually meant you either learn how to fix things yourself, or go into debt having someone else do it. So, when she got her first car as a teenager, a busted up Subaru Outback, she'd quickly learned to fix things up herself. She mostly viewed fixing up her car as a slight nuisance, annoying but necessary. Until she met you, and came to understand the fun nuances of mechanical work. She quite enjoyed it when she had to do maintenance or tune ups on her car now. And while she never thought she would spend her off days in a junkyard, it didn't take long for her to find enjoyment in it.

"The holy Honda land." You say as you and Sevika come up upon row 219. She stops behind you as you peek over one of the engine bays, rounding the cart to join you. "It's gonna be the bolt that goes into this little thing." You explain to Sevika, who nods intently.

Sevika knew the drill, and you both got to work. This car didn't have the bolts you needed, so you both continued on to ransacking the rest of the car in search of something that could be of use. Sevika rummaged through the interior while you checked around under the car for any spare bolts or screws that could be of use.

You startle when a car door lands on the ground just next to you, dust being kicked up in your face from the impact. Quicker than you could comprehend, Sevika's hand was covering your head while her other grasped onto the heavy metal before it fell further. Once your body recognized its safety, you couldn't help but burst out into laughter at the fallen door, a piece of the broken handle still in Sevika's hand.

"Well someone already got to the hinges." Sevika shrugged, followed by her own chuckles as she throws the door to the side. You guys repeat the same thing on multiple cars, engaging in conversation about your week or stories from Sevika's recent gambling stint at The Last Drop.

You cheer as the next car you come upon finally had the bolts still intact. "Found em?" Sevika said, amusement clear on her face. "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes at your response, but hands you your socket wrench. "Need a 10?" She asks as she searches through the sockets in your bag. You hum in response and she places the piece of metal in your outstretched palm.

You take off the bolts, handing them behind you to Sevika to hold onto until you were done. "Atta girl." She says as she takes them from you, not missing the shy and sheepish look on your face from her praise.

The both of you continue this for upwards of an hour, just rummaging through torn apart cars while talking. Eventually you retire the search of car parts in favor of hunting for wheels. Not even five minutes into rummaging through the piles of rims and tires, Sevika grabs your attention with a low whistle.

You look up and see her lifting up a chrome wheel, with what looked like almost brand new tires. "Oh my god, no way!" You trudge over the wheels on the ground to meet her. You inspect the little numbers on the tires on the rim, "right size and everything." You say happily. "Man I wish I lucked out this easily with mine for the Volvo. Had to pay out the ass for mine."

Sevika shook her head, effortlessly dropping the wheel in the cart as you picked up the other. Sure, Sevika was a gentlewoman; always holding your bags, opening doors for you, tying your shoelaces, any act of service she could think of. But she doesn't undermine your own strength either, instead watching with an ogling smirk as you load the last wheel into the cart, your t-shirt sleeves riding up and revealing your flexed muscles. "You're such a dog." You playfully hit her shoulder.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

"I'm glad you came with me today." You told Sevika as you made your way back to the car, this time covered in dirt, grime, and sweat, with pockets full of clanking of bolts and fuses. You continue, "I know rummaging around a junkyard isn't an ideal date idea, but it's one my favorite things to do with you." You both make eye contact, matching each others smiles.

"I'd do anything with you, hun. You know that." You stop at her car and turn around to face her, your arms reaching up to wrap around her shoulders. "I love you, Sev." She responds by pulling you in further by your waist, leaning down to catch your lips in hers. She squeezes your waist as her way of saying it back. "Let's get home and shower, yeah?" You nod, a cheeky smile finding its way to your lips at the idea.

[midtalissa]

# ‘TESTING WATERS’ (part 2)

-> Other parts: one

-> Summary: Jason’s mood is shifting, and you’re the reason. After days of soft tension and awkward closeness, he finally makes the first move… in the most clumsy, Jason Todd way possible.

-> Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x F!Reader

-> WARNINGS: maybe ooc Jason? canon-typical mentions of trauma/PTSD; Jason being touch-starved and awkward; light make-out— dude i need to learn how to manage the warnings because i don’t know what to put here

-> A/N: i’m lowkey kinda getting obsessed with jason AND the arkham trilogy.. again; good thing i already have it purchased on my nintendo😼😼

You heard it first from one of the lieutenants outside the rec room. “Boss has been… different.”

You weren’t even eavesdropping on purpose. Just walking past with the world’s most boring sandwich in your hand when the words hit your ear like a thrown brick.

“How different?” someone else asked, like they didn’t believe it for a second.

“Like… he’s not biting people’s heads off every five minutes. Let Ramirez finish a full sentence yesterday. Didn’t even snap when Jace spilled coffee on the intel sheets.”

A third voice chimed in, low and full of disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“Swear on my paycheck, man. He’s still scary as shit but… it’s less homicidal lately. I’m telling you. It started after he went to his quarters one night earlier than usual, when he went to her.”

Her. You.

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Great. Just what you needed. Jason Todd, broody warlord of Gotham’s underground, getting talked about like a teen girl’s diary entry.

You made a beeline for your room, heart racing and face burning.

Later that day, on a video call with Tori, she cracked a joke about it. “You’re basically living in a shitty action movie. Just waiting for dramatic background music every time he enters a room.”

You snorted so hard she nearly dropped her phone. “If my life had a soundtrack it’d just be heavy breathing and gunshots.”

You were in the middle of laughing when you caught it. Jason. Walking past your door. And— blink and you’ll miss it— but you didn’t miss it.

A smile. Small. Crooked. There and gone in less than a second. You froze mid-laugh, still staring at the empty hallway long after he disappeared.

“Okay what just happened?” Tori asked, catching your expression shift. “Nothing,” you said quickly. But your grin said otherwise.

The shift didn’t stop there. Over the next few days, it got… softer. Like the air was changing around you.

He let you sit next to him again on the couch. When your shoulder bumped his, he didn’t move away. In fact… he leaned back. Barely. But it was there.

Another night, he passed you in the hall and actually said, ‘Hey.’ Like a normal human being. Not ‘Y/n.’ Not ‘Be quieter.’

Just… ‘Hey.’ And you chatted with him until his earpiece buzzed and he had to leave. You spent the next fifteen minutes staring at your ceiling trying not to scream into a pillow like a teenager.

That night though… that’s when it happened.

You caught him sitting on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots, looking tired but less haunted than usual.

You were hovering in the doorway, heart doing somersaults, debating with yourself for five full minutes before finally— screw it. You went for it.

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. Instant tension.

You felt it instantly. The way his back stiffened like muscle memory was telling him to pull away. But this time… he didn’t. Not fully.

He exhaled hard, like the air left his lungs all at once. Then his hands moved— slow, hesitant— until they settled on your forearms, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

And when you loosened your hold just enough to pull back and check his face… That’s when you caught it. Jason biting his lip.

Like he was chewing on some thought he didn’t know how to say. Eyes dropping to your mouth, then back to your eyes, then back again like he was short-circuiting.

Your heart nearly exploded. “Jason—” you whispered, but before you could even finish, his hands slid down, settling clumsily on your waist.

And then he kissed you.

No warning. No finesse. Just pure, awkward, inexperienced Jason Todd crashing into you like a human wrecking ball.

It was messy. A little too hard at first. Teeth bumped. Breath hitched weird between both of you.

But when your hands instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt and you pushed him back slightly— just enough to adjust the angle— he followed.

Like muscle memory kicked in. Like whatever fragile dam he’d been holding together finally cracked open.

And suddenly you were in his lap, straddling him without even realizing how it happened, one of his hands slipping up your back while the other stayed stubbornly locked on your hip like he was scared you’d disappear.

He kissed like a man who had no idea what the hell he was doing but wanted to do it anyway. You almost laughed into his mouth when it clicked—

This man… had 100% been listening to soldiers at base giving bad dating advice to each other. Trying to apply random tips he overheard.

Be confident. Grip her waist. Make the first move. Tilt your head more. You could practically hear their voices in your brain, like ghosts of locker room nonsense.

But none of it mattered. Not when his lips were on yours. Not when his breath stuttered every time you deepened the kiss.

And definitely not when you pulled back, resting your forehead against his, smiling through your own gasps for air.

“Jason…” you whispered, voice shaking. “I’ve already been swooned, you idiot.” He huffed out a shaky laugh. A real one. And for once… he didn’t look so broken.

[psycholuvrgirl]

the 6 date disasters: the chaperone | series masterlist

featuring... megumi!

summary: a romantic night in takes a turn when your teacher shows up.

warnings: heated make out scene, no actual smut though

a/n: i think i'm going to change my dividers...

megumi planned this whole thing out. but megumi doesn’t plan dates, he stumbles into them. he just asks to hang out and ends up making the whole ordeal romantic without trying to.

but not tonight. tonight is intentional.

his dorm is clean. and not normal fushiguro clean, it’s too clean. the room is clear of anything that could make it look lived in, bed made, not a speck of dust or dirt in the room. soft music plays from the speaker you bought him ages ago, some instrumental playlist that he spent hours on. the lights are low, a few warm candles flickering on the shelves. he looks nervous.

and very, very pretty.

his jaw is tense, his eyes flickering to you and away again. he wears a soft black shirt that you’ve never seen before, but it looks perfect on him. when you show up and smile a real smile, he flushes so fast that you think he might combust. 

you know exactly what tonight is. or at least what tonight is supposed to be, and you want it just as badly.

so you don’t make him say it out loud. you let things unfold the way he clearly wants them to, slow and soft. like the moment is sacred, because it is.

at first, you sit close to one another, legs brushing. you talk and sip on tea that you can barely taste, but the conversation is quickly replaced with long, weighty looks and quiet stillness.

when he finally leans in, you meet him halfway.

the kiss starts sweet, gentle, and familiar. but then your hands slide up his chest and he makes a sound in the back of his throat. his fingers curl tightly around your waist, and just like that the entire mood changes.

his tongue slips into your mouth as his hand finds your thigh. he tugs you onto his lap and it all happens so fast. your bodies move like a perfectly choreographed dance, tension finally snapping loose. you’re straddling him, hands in his hair, mouth hot against his.

“are you sure?” you murmur, just in case.

megumi nods. “yeah. i’ve been— fuck, i’ve been thinking about this all week.”

that does something to you, making your eyes widen and your stomach do a flip.

he tilts his head, kissing down your neck. his grip on your hips tightens and you shift against him, pulling a groan from his lips. his hands slide up your shirt and your heart pounds. he’s hard under you, you can feel it.

and then… knock knock.

you both go still, looking at the door.

“don’t,” he whispers. “don’t answer it.”

“i wasn’t gonna—”

then the door flies open.

gojo’s voice rings out, loud and casual as always. “oh, megumi,” he says in a sing-song voice, dragging out the end of the name. “i brought those snacks you like. also, we need to talk about your training schedule because—” he pauses when he looks up from the grocery bag, blinking. “oh.” he takes in every detail. you in megumi’s lap, your shirt pushed up with megumi’s hands still under it. gojo beams. “wow. about time, huh?”

you scramble off of him, trying to fix your clothes.

“get out!” megumi shouts.

gojo flops down onto his bed, megumi’s bed, with absolutely no remorse. “relax. i’m just here to check in, you weren’t answering your texts.”

“because i was busy,” megumi growls out.

gojo’s already unwrapping a candy bar. “clearly.”

“how did you even get in? i locked the door.”

“i have a key,” gojo says simply.

you sit on the edge of the bed, stunned to silence by the entire situation. you glance at megumi, who looks one inconvenience away from a felony.

he storms over and grabs gojo’s arm. “get. out.”

gojo remains limp on the covers. “you’re so tense, fushiguro. it’s unhealthy. you need to talk more about your feelings instead of getting so physical. well, maybe getting physical is just what you need—”

megumi drags gojo halfway off the bed. “i swear to god—”

gojo swings his legs off the mattress and opts to lean against the desk. “okay, okay. i’m going. but seriously? proud of you for finally getting laid.”

“we weren’t—” you protest.

gojo grins. “don’t lie to me. i walked in on a scene straight out of a fanfic. candles? music? fushiguro, you romantic dog.”

megumi looks like he might pass out.

you bury your face in your hands. “please leave.”

gojo waves as he steps out the door. “alright, alright. i’ll be in my room, being lonely and unloved.”

“have fun with that,” megumi sneers, slamming the door shut and locking it. he lets out a groan as he slumps onto the bed. “i’m going to kill him.”

you sit beside him and slip your hand into his. “you tried to kill him.”

“i had a plan for tonight,” he mutters. “a whole plan!”

you glance down at his lap and notice that he’s still… affected.

you bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “we could still salvage tonight.”

he turns to look at you slowly, hope in his eyes.

“besides,” you say, “he won’t come back, and everyone else is out on missions.”

a grin creeps up on megumi’s face. and then he leans back in for a kiss.

[dissolved-g1rl]

Ahh can we have Dante x reader oneshot with sunshine (Dante) and grumpy (reader) troupe🦋🦋🦋 have a nice day ahead

here comes the sun ⋆｡°•☁️

“C’mon baby, one more?” Dante croons warmly, his palm traveling from the side of your neck to cup the side of your face, trying to get you to tilt your face to the side so he can kiss you. “Cut it out, I’m trying to measure this out.” You elbow his side, he’s nice enough to pretend like it hurts, huffing out a breath of air. You dump out the flour into the bowl of dry ingredients, carefully mixing it together. He whines but lays off, dragging himself to the couch to mope.

You and Dante are an unlikely pair, you find him charming, he just thinks you’re the sun and stars. He looks at you like you’re a god given gift, you might as well be for putting up with him. “Dante…would you like to lick the spoon?” You call out from the kitchen, he’s there in a second, like a little puppy who’s been offered a treat. You hold it out to him, he takes the some of the spoon into his mouth, and you feed him some of the raw dough. He hums in satisfaction, “S really good.” He gives you a thumbs up, “Imagine how much better it’ll taste cooked.” You say crinkling your nose when you hear the smacking noises of his mouth against the wooden spoon. He shrugs, careless pure usual.

The cookies are left to rise in the oven, Dante sits with your feet under his thighs, to “warm them up” while he blabs on about his last mission. You wish he’d be more careful sometimes, a healing factor doesn’t mean he should be so reckless. He’s so animated when he talks, making big gestures with his hands, and a big grin. It’s a little enamoring to you, his back is to the curtains, causing a warm glow to surround him. He blocks you from the sun, casting a Dante shaped shadow onto you. You nod and hum while he comes to the conclusion, reenacting how he swung his sword and slashed a demon in half. You give a faux applause and an earnest thumbs up, he’ll take that. He knows you aren’t one for theatrics, and he’s okay with that. Dante knew what he was signing up for.

The next fifteen minutes are spent with Dante trying to slip his tongue in your mouth. You turn your head to the side every chance you get, just to make him frustrated. That goes on till your timer goes off, Dante gets shoved to the side in favor of cookies, they trey is set on the stove top to cool. “You are way too neurotic about this…” He grumbles, “Look how perfect they look…it was worth it.” You mumble, feeling pride swell innyour stomach, theybreally do look picturesque, no thanks to Dante. He shoves a still hot cookie into his mouth and you gape, he hums, steam rushed from his nose as he thumbs up, “Pretty good babe.” He says through a mouthful of cookie. He gulps it down and smiles at you so wide his eyes crinkle up, it’s pretty cute. “I’ll make some more….y’know when this batch is done at least…” You murmur rubbing your neck sheepishly. Dante swoons, you’re so sweet offering to bake him cookies like some devoted house wife, its a little erotic for him to think about. Frilly aprons, kitten heels, rollers in your hair. You see that weird look on his face and smack him upside the head, Dante snaps out of it quickly.

“What’re you think about weirdo?”

“Uh..Nothing, just that these cookies really are great!”

“Right….”

dividers by @uzmacchiato

a/n: thanks anon!

[waitingandwishing]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 3k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

He was already there when you arrived, sitting on the low stone ledge with his sleeves rolled and his bipa leaning against the wall beside him. A faint melody hung in the air, like the breeze had interrupted his playing.

“You’re late,” He said, without looking. You thought it was slightly unsettling that he could sense your presence, but you didn’t mind it. At least someone did. His face was blurred like always, familiar but definitely strange to you…

“I brought persimmons,” You replied, holding up the little cloth pouch tied at your waist.

He looked over, clearly unimpressed. “Are they the bitter ones?”

“They’re the only ones.” You shrugged.

He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I must suffer.”

“You’re a palace musician. Suffering is your art, isn’t it?”

He let out a short, startled laugh and shook his head. “That’s unfair. I suffer beautifully.”

“Mm… I doubt it.” You teased. You plopped down beside him, close enough to hear the quiet creak of the bipa’s strings when the wind touched them. The cloth of your uniform rustled, stiff from the day’s work and still smelling faintly of tea and cedar floors.

“Today,” You said, biting into a persimmon, “A minister sneezed during a prayer. Twice. I thought I was going to explode.”

The man leaned in, curiosity evident in his voice. “Did he try to cover it?”

“He looked like he was dying. Turned completely red.” You chuckled.

“I wish I’d seen it,” he muttered, grinning. “I would’ve written a funeral dirge just for him.”

You choked on the persimmon and laughed, hand to your mouth. “You’re wicked.”

“You’re the one who laughed first.”

You both dissolved into laughter then. It was soft and quiet, it had to be, but it was still real. It was warm, unrestrained in a way neither of you could be when the sun was up and the palace was watching.

He plucked a note, thoughtful. “Something I was working on during rehearsals. But it’s wrong. It keeps slipping out of my fingers.”

“Maybe it’s not wrong,” You started, leaning closer to get a better look, “Maybe you just have to… Play for someone else?”

He looked at you with surprise and you quickly backtracked, “But of course that would be rude to any honored guest! A-after all you’re playing for them, not for someone else! Forget I said anything, the bitterness from the persimmons might be getting to my head…”

You opened your eyes, gasping as you snapped back up from your bed. Why were you suddenly having these odd dreams of this guy? Ugh, that was sort of creepy of you. 

You scratched your head, standing up from your bed and getting ready for the day. You needed to help Rumi get her voice back, but you weren’t sure if Zoey’s method of doing that was… Ethical. Oh well, you wanted to handle it before calling Celine, after all, she would just put more and more pressure on Rumi.

“It’s just a sweet dream, only today. Wait for me, on the stage. We will meet once again…” You muttered under your breath as you changed out of your pajamas to some comfy clothes. You slid on your gloves, covering the markings that stained them.

You and Rumi had them since the day you were born, but you weren’t related to Rumi or even were remotely close to having any heritage with demon blood. It was obviously a mystery, but you hadn’t stolen any souls from people yet so obviously it wasn’t a problem. Yet.

- - -

“He’s got this special tonic.” Zoey explained as the four of you walked down the street wearing your disguises. “Apparently, it can heal anything from sore throats to relationship problems.”

“Shhh! Quiet Zoey…” Rumi mumbled, covering her face just in case they’d be seen.

“Why are there so many people today?” Mira muttered.

“Ooh! It’s down that alleyway!” Zoey said, skipping down a creepy looking passageway. You cringed but followed her. 

Usually, you tried to trust Zoey’s judgement and give her the benefit of the doubt, but obviously it was hard when this so-called doctor had a special tonic that could heal emotional bonds. Maybe they bonded because of their hatred for the scam?

As they arrived at the “Doctors” place, Mira placed one hand on her hip with an unimpressed look on her face. “Yep, about as legit as I expected…”

“I… Does it even taste good?” You asked. “It sounds like it tastes like one of those old lady houses with chipped wood furniture…”

“That’s… Oddly specific.” Mira commented, furrowing her brows. Although you were skeptical, you did hope that this guy was actually for real.

“Earthy and herby. Smells legit to me.” Rumi shrugged.

“Yay! That’s the spirit!” Zoey clapped her hands together and grabbed Rumi’s hand to guide her inside. “Kaja, kaja, kaja, kaja!”

“Hurry, before someone sees us.” Mira sighed, entering the establishment. You followed behind them with a smile.

You sat down next to Mira, picking at the loose strings in your leather gloves. Persimmons… Your hand traced your lips. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to buy some today after Rumi’s check-up.

“Rumi Nim?” The doctor walked through and you quickly stood up with the others to bow. He chuckled, “Sit, sit. You need no introduction.” He turned his attention to Rumi, ���So, a problem with your voice?”

“Yes.” Zoey jumped in, “So we need one of your awesome tonics. Something that’ll work super fast.” You nodded alongside her.

“Okay, let me see.” The doctor leaned forward, pulling his glasses down. Rumi opened her mouth for him to check before he quickly shook his head, “Ah, ah, ah. In order to heal a part, we must understand the whole.” He breathed in deeply before staring into Rumi as if trying to see her soul. “I see… I see… No.”

You blinked, clearly confused. Was this guy crazy? You were starting to think that he was but at this point you weren’t sure.

“Actually, I don’t see. Very strange.” He adjusted his glasses, now looking a bit more closely, “You have lots of walls up.”

“Woah! He’s so good right?” Zoey rocked you back and forth with awe in her eyes. You nodded along, but that could be said about anyone.

“So many walls…”

“Walls?” Rumi scoffed, turning away from his uncomfortable gaze. You felt bad for her, being read like this in front of Mira and Zoey wasn’t exactly ideal especially with her secret… “I don’t have any walls.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.” Mira commented, looking up from her OUTER magazine before turning to Zoey and muttering, “He is kind of good.”

“I’m just trying to stay focused.” Rumi shrugged.

“Hm… Focus is good, but focusing on one part leads to ignoring other parts,” The doctor leaned in on Rumi’s left side, "Making you separated, isolated.”

“Ooh ooh!” Zoey raised her hand, “Emotionally closed off?”

“Yes! Yes!” The doctor nodded along in agreement.

“She’s also a workaholic, doesn’t know how to relax…” Mira listed off the reasons before Rumi interrupted her.

“I know how to relax!” Rumi said defensively.

“You… Really don’t.” You added with a grimace.

“I bet she refuses to go to the bathhouse with you.” The doctor grinned mischievously. Honestly you were wondering why he decided to sell tonics and not work as a therapist at this point.

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Zoey exclaimed.

“How did you even-”

“Dude, we’ve been trying to take her to the bathhouse forever!” Mira and Zoey both said at the same time. You sighed, shaking you head and giving Rumi a ‘I don’t know what else to do’ look.

“How is this helpful?” Rumi asked with an eyeroll.

“It’s helping me a lot.” Mira said with a raised eyebrow.

“Waahh, I can’t believe you got all that wisdom just from looking at her!” Zoey smiled. The doctor turned over to her, eyes suddenly wide as he started to look deep into her soul as well. “Wait, why’re you looking at me?”

“I see… Eagerness to plead. Maybe a little too eager.” The doctor spoke.

“What? I’m not like that…” Zoey said before panicking, “You guys would tell me if I was like that, right?”

“Um…” Before you could give an honest answer, the doctor turned to look at you.

“I see… silence. Your soul is quiet and seeks to be loud again.” He said before turning to Mira. You paused, pursing your lips before looking back down at the ground.

Mira and the doctor stared at each other, making groans and grunts of annoyance before Mira bit back and the doctor shied away. “Yeah, that’s right.” Mira smirked.

“Okay,” Rumi cut through the both of them, “How does this help me get my voice back?”

“As I said, in order to treat the part, we must understand the whoooole.” He created a circle with his hands.

Rumi groaned, rubbing her hands over her face, “That’s great and all, but I thought we were just here for your tonics.”

“Can we just pay for the tonics now?” You asked, holding up your credit card. He nodded and as soon as you paid for the box, the three of you exited outside and waited for Rumi to come back with the medicine to help her voice.

You yawned, stretching out and pulling off your hoodie to scratch the back of your neck. “Hey guys, do you think after this we could get some persimmons?” You asked.

“Hm? Why? Are you making jam?” Zoey asked. You shrugged and pulled your hoodie down over your face.

“Just woke up craving some, thought it’d be nice to have something other than what we’re eating now.” You explained, glancing at Mira. “We could probably pick up some Boba on the way?”

Mira gasped, “Yeeessss.” She nodded. You laughed at her happy expression before seeing Rumi exit the door.

“We got the tonics! We got the tonics!” You three all cheered and started walking alongside each other.

“Yay! Once your voice is fixed, we can get back to the important stuff, like the fans.” Zoey grinned, latching onto Rumi lovingly.

You suddenly paused, hearing muttering from around the corner before seeing a couple of shadows. You widened your eyes as Zoey exclaimed, “Fans?! We can’t let them see us here, hurry!” Mira, Zoey, and Rumi hid behind you to which you sighed at.

“Guys, we’re in disguises for a reason.” You said, pulling up your mask, “This is why you wear masks.” You walked forward only to pause again at the… Surprisingly good looking dudes walking down the alleyway?

Mira, Zoey, and Rumi peeked out from behind you, eyes wide at the sight of them. “Woah…” Zoey and Mira said, eyes wide and mouth agape.

You and Rumi exchanged glances before shrugging. “So hot…” Mira muttered. 

Rumi grimaced. “Ugh, you guys are so gross…”

You kept your expression neutral, but you had to agree that they were definitely handsome. You turned to look at Rumi, about to speak before the black haired man nudged into her and made her fall. You widened your eyes as the box slipped out of her hand and caused the tonics to scatter everywhere across the cobbled street. 

“Uh…” He brushed his shoulder, “Watch yourself.”

Your eye twitched and you placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, apologize to my friend.” You crossed your arms.

“Hm?” He turned to look at you before you could see his eyes widening slightly and the faint sign of his pupils dilating. 

You frowned, recognition lighting up in your eyes. That guy did look sort of familiar though… Did you know him? No… You’re usually good at faces, you definitely didn’t know him. “Apologize.” You gestured to Rumi, “You’re the one who bumped into her.”

He scoffed, turning away and giving a half-assed apology, “Sorry.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. What a child. There was plenty of space between Rumi and the rest of the street, he just happened to bump into her and make her fall because he was immature. You could never be with someone who had a horrible personality.

You knelt down next to the two other girls, helping them pick up the rest of the tonics. “What a jerk.” You shook your head.

“Yeah, they’re not even that cute.” Zoey frowned.

“They’re so bleh.” Rumi shook her head.

“They’re so…” Mira fake gagged as she threw another tonic in the box.

You all retched before hearing a funky beat come from around the corner. “Hm?” Your expression contorted from annoyance to curiosity.

You, Rumi, Mira, and Zoey all peaked from around the corner to see a puff of pink smoke fill the air. Zoey adjusted her hat while Mira pushed up her glasses. You pulled Rumi’s hoodie over her head and tightened yours with the strings.

The four of you walked towards the pink cloud of smoke, wondering what was happening before seeing a silhouette peak through. Then, all of a sudden the boys from before started to dance and sing.

“Don’t want you, need you. Yeah, I need you to fill me up.” The lead singer, the black haired one that bumped into Rumi, sang. You had to admit that his voice sounded pretty good.  “Masigo maysyeo bwa do seonge chaji ana.”

“It’s those stupid jerks again!” Rumi realized. You sighed, so much for those persimmons.

An old lady burst through your group, hands reaching to grab the lead singer. “Got a feeling that, oh, yeah. You could be everything that-” He pulled his chest forward, somehow pushing the grandma away with his… Charm? You wouldn’t exactly call it that, “That I need, tastes so sweet!”

“These guys are a boyband…” You muttered, eyes narrowed. Usually you wouldn’t be so hostile, it wasn’t like you to be this… Annoyed. But something about that black haired boy’s face made you want to… Violently bash a soda can into it.

“Looking like snacks!” The one with his eyes covered put his hands up as another with light pink hair moved to the front.

“‘Cause you got it like that.” The boyband moved to the side to allow one with a yellow beanie move forward with undeniable confidence.

“Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah. Neoui modeun geol nan wonhae, wonhae, wonhae Neo malgon modu pyeonhae, pyeonhae, pyeonhae!” He moved to the side, all of them going down a line to reveal the black haired one drinking… One of Rumi’s tonics?!

“Seriously?! I paid full price for those things!” You scoffed, crossing your arms and turning your head away.

“Can’t let go, no, no, not tonight.” They all shook their fingers in scary synchronization before posing so the black haired boy, which you assumed was the leader, could sing. 

“Jigeum dangjang nal bwa sigan eopjana.” He sang as he placed his hands on his chest. The others parted, now standing in a more horizontal zigzag.

“Neon naekkeoya imi algo itjana.” The boy with the light pink hair’s voice was soft, a surprising falsetto coming from his throat.

“‘Cause I need you to need me,” The leader sang, all of them gathering into a straight line as they harmonized. You raised your eyebrows, somehow their harmonization didn’t sound crunchy despite them being a new boyband? They probably had someone else write and produce their songs then. “I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing. My little soda pop.”

“You're all I can think of, every drop I drink up!” They moved their shoulders up and down, smug smirks on their faces. “You're my soda pop, my little soda pop.”

Zoey smiled, moving her shoulders along with them before noticing you staring at her with a raised eyebrow. She immediately stopped, but continued to move her shoulders slightly with Rumi as well.

“It is annoyingly catchy though.” Rumi muttered.

“It’s infectious.” Mira said.

“You can say that again.” You pursed your lips before widening your eyes. There were faint markings crawling up their exposed arms, purple markings. You looked back at the leader, who was… Oddly staring at you for some reason, and noticed a flash of yellow sparkling through.

You all gasped unanimously. “They’re demons!”

“Magicians!” You, Rumi, and Mira eyed Zoey for a moment before she quickly corrected herself, “Demons. Obviously demons.”

“Uh, make me wanna flip the top. Han mogeume, you hit the spot.” The one with a baby face stepped forward, everything about him seemed sort of nonchalant but you had a feeling it was definitely an act considering they were demons and surrounded by souls they could eat. “Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, ah. Soreum doda it's gettin' hot.”

“Dang, they’re good.” Zoey admitted with a sigh.

“Incredible.” Rumi nodded, “But a demon boy band? Why?”

“I don’t care. A demon’s a demon. We kill them.” Mira said, eyes trained on them like a german shepherds as she stepped forward.

“No, it’s too public.” You said, catching the pink haired girl’s wrist.

“What if they try to kill these people?” Mira asked.

“It doesn’t look like they’re gonna hurt anyone.” Zoey said, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, “In fact, it almost seems like they’re nice demons?”

You, Mira, and Rumi once again turned to look at Zoey with confusion in your eyes. What was she talking about? Nice demon was technically a contradiction! “Demons are never nice!” Mira and Rumi said.

The Saja Boys, or whatever their names were, it didn't matter to you, soon finished their song. The crowd surrounding them erupted into cheers and praise.  You didn’t mind that they were doing this, but they were jerks. Maybe if they were nice you would’ve been like Zoey but they weren’t.

You stared up at them before ultimately deciding that this was worth your time. At least now, you had a new objective to do while Rumi healed her voice. Kill the demons.

You felt eyes on you, turning back to see the leader staring at you once again. You tilted your head before ultimately leaving with the other girls to go get ready to defeat them. Why was he staring at you?

He probably knew you guys were Hunters so that meant he was targeting you specifically. Fine. Then you supposed that meant going after him first.

[tsaheylutales]

You weren't supposed to know | Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Harrrington X Henderson!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, stranger things level threats, reader is a softer girl so if you don't like that, scroll, Steve and Dustin are very ooc so...keep that in mind. Let me know if there are any more! each chapter will have more specific warnings <3

Summary: Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

2.3k words

The next morning, you all head back to the cabin with some food for Eddie. When you push open the creaky door, it swings wide, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s pacing the small, cramped room, eyes darting like he’s expecting trouble at any moment.

“Jesus!” He yelps, stumbling backward, clutching the wall to steady himself.

“Delivery service!” Dustin calls out, trying to lighten the mood.

You give Eddie the good news and the bad news; the bad news is the police are 100% convinced he killed Chrissy. The good news is his name hasn’t gone public yet. For now, at least. Then you explain the plan: find a way into the Upside Down and kill Vecna. The problem? There’s no way into the upside down, no gate, no girl with superpowers. So...You’re still stuck in the brainstorming phase. Everyone’s trying to piece it together. Everyone except you. You’re just there, hovering, waiting.

Suddenly, sirens wail in the distance, growing louder as police cars and ambulances speed past the cabin window. Everyone’s eyes follow the flashing lights. Everyone except Eddie, who jumps back under the tarp in the boat, disappearing from view.

This is not good.

You follow the sirens, pulling up at the police tape. You see Nancy being questioned by police officers, her face serious, skittish. Steve climbs out of the car, his eyes locked on Nancy’s with a look full of longing, worry, and something heavier, regret, maybe. Your heart cracks at the sight.

You stay in the car for a second longer than the others, your chest feels tight, like something invisible is squeezing your ribs together. You watch Steve watch Nancy, the way his gaze softens, the way his brows furrow with worry. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. It’s not for you.

You snap out of it, climbing out and forcing your feet to move. The road is covered in cops and medics, all talking over one another. Robin nudges your shoulder as she walks by. “You okay?” She murmurs, her eyes flicking toward Steve, then back to you.

You nod quickly, lying. “Fine.”

Robin doesn’t push it, but she stays close.

You all end up at the trailer park. The air is thick with horror and tension. That same yellow police tape flutters in the distance like a frayed ribbon, stretched and tugged by the wind, a quiet reminder of how quickly everything has unraveled.

They find a battered picnic table in the middle of the park. It creaks when you sit, the wood sun-bleached and splintered beneath your fingertips. A distant dog barks. Everything feels just slightly off. Like something’s here.

Nancy crosses her arms and leans forward on the table, her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?”

“If the shoe fits.” Dustin mutters, trying for casual but not quite landing it. His voice is quieter than usual. “Our working theory, is that he attacks with some kind of spell. Or a curse.”

You tune out after that. The words turn to noise, muffled like they’re underwater. Your eyes drift to the police tape blowing in the wind, to the crushed soda can half-buried in the dirt, to the way Steve’s arms are leaning on the table, his jaw clenched like he’s trying not to say something.

You wonder if he even notices you're not speaking. If any of them do. 

You all start heading toward Steve’s car, but Nancy suddenly veers off, slipping toward her own.

“Whoa, whoa, Nance. Nance! Where are you going?” Steve calls after her, jogging to catch up.

“Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” She says, glancing back.

“Something you wanna share with us?” Dustin pipes up, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.”

“Yeah, okay. Are you out of your mind? Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No way. You need…” Steve hesitates, then steps closer to her, chucking his keys towards Robin. “Here. I’ll stick with Nance. Take the car, check out the shrink.”

You watch him. The way he doesn’t even look in your direction. The way he steps beside her, like it’s muscle memory. Familiar. Natural.

Robin scoffs. “Don’t think you want me driving your car.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a license.”

“Why don’t you have a license?”

“I’m poor.”

Max offers, “I can drive.”

“No, never again. Please. Anybody but you. No.”

Dustin pulls a face, and Steve points at him. “No chance.”

“Come on.” He groans.

“All right, okay, this is stupid,” Robin cuts in, stepping forward. “Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us?” She smirks. “Come on, [Y/n/n].”

You look between them, between Steve and Nancy. He’s still standing too close. Still not looking at you. You force your legs to move and fall into step beside Robin, giving her a nervous smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Be careful.” He shouts after you.

“Just gonna stand there and gawk, Harrington?” Dustin teases.

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t we go? Okay?”

“Shut up and get in the car. Wipe your feet. On the outside, not the inside.” Steve whines, shaking his head.

“Always the babysitter. Always the goddamn babysitter!”

All three of you walk up the steps to the entrance of the Hawkins Public Library, the stone underfoot worn smooth from decades of use. Robin is rambling as usual, words tumbling out of her like they’ve got a mind of their own. Nancy, a few steps ahead, looks deeply uninterested.

“Okay. Help me get this straight.” Robin starts, hands flailing with each word. “Eddie's uncle, Wayne, thinks that Victor Creel escaped from Pennhurst Asylum and that he's the one running around Hawkins committing these murders?”

“Pretty much.” Nancy replies, curt.

You hang back a little, your hands stuffed in your pockets, letting them talk. Robin filling the silence, Nancy slicing through it. You feel like background noise.

“But Victor committed the eyeball murders, like, way back in the '50s.” Robin adds, eyebrows raised.

“Well, '59…” You speak up, voice quieter than theirs. “Sorry, my grandpa used to tell me stories…”

Both girls glance at you for a brief second. Robin nods, Nancy doesn't react at all before the conversation rolls on without missing a beat.

“So, that means these murders predate Eleven and the Upside Down by about 30 years?” Robin asks, pushing the heavy glass door open.

“Yeah.” Nancy says, stepping inside.

“Which makes spooky Victor Creel like, what, 70 years old?”

“Yep.” Nancy strides toward the front desk and rings the bell with her finger.

“So he’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air.” Robin mutters, clearly skeptical. 

“It doesn’t make sense. I know.” Nancy’s jaw tightens. “That’s why I said it was a shot in the dark.”

Robin frowns. “I know. I just thought that by ‘shot in the dark,’ you were being modest or hiding something super solid up your sleeve that you were gonna wow us with later. But this is really, truly a shot in the dark. Like, we are snipers with blindfolds on who’ve been spun around 50 times.”

Nancy rapidly rings the bell again, jaw clenching.

You glance between them, your throat tightening a bit. You feel the tension, the push and pull of two strong personalities, but also that quiet realization that you’re just… there. Walking behind them. Watching it happen.

“Coming!” A voice calls from the back. The librarian appears moments later, arms weighed down with books.

“Hi. Sorry,” Nancy says quickly. “We’re in a bit of a rush. Could we get the keys to the basement archives?”

“Of course. Give me one sec.”

As the woman disappears again, Robin turns toward Nancy, worry flickering across her face.

“Did I come off mean or condescending or something?”

“No.” Nancy replies coolly.

“Right. Sorry. It's just, you seem annoyed. You don't know me well. I don't really have a filter or a strong grasp of social cues.”

“Okay.”

“If I say something that upsets you, just know that I know it's a flaw. Believe me, my mother reminds me daily.”

You blink, surprised by her honesty. It makes you ache a little, how easy it seems for Robin to just say things. To get them out. You wish you could do that, say what you feel, ask if anyone notices you fading into the background. But you don’t. You stay quiet.

“Got it.” Nancy says.

The librarian returns, holding a ring of jangling keys. “All right, ladies. Here you go. Have fun.”

“Yep.” Nancy snatches the keys. “We’ll try.”

Robin flashes a quick, uncertain smile, then heads for the stairwell. You descend the creaking basement stairs, the smell of old paper and mildew thick in the air. Nancy walks ahead with purpose, already scanning the dusty rows of archive cabinets. You linger at the bottom step, hesitating.

Robin slides up beside you, nudging your elbow gently.

“Is she okay?” she whispers, jerking her chin toward Nancy, who’s pretending not to hear.

You shrug. “Not sure. I’ll talk to her.”

Robin gives you a long look, quiet concern flickering in her eyes, the kind that means she sees more than she lets on. “I mean, it’s not just her.”

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

Robin tilts her head. “You’ve been off, too. Like… I don’t know. Kinda ghost-y.”

Your throat tightens. You look away, pretending to study a stack of untouched newspapers. “I’m fine.”

Robin doesn’t press, but her silence says enough. She knows you’re lying. And the worst part? She actually cares.

“Okay, she’s in.” Steve murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, watching Max enter her councilors house.

“Missing collarbones, not eyes… So, we gonna talk about… it?” Dustin’s voice breaks the silence, sharp and teasing, but there’s a hint of seriousness underneath.

“Huh? Sorry, talk about what?” Steve asks, turning to look at him.

“Your temporary insanity earlier today. When you basically threw yourself at Nance?” Dustin says, eyes locked on Steve.

“Okay, first of all. That’s not what happened,” Steve snaps, but his voice lacks conviction.

“Pretty sure that’s what happened. It was public. There were a lot of witnesses.” Dustin adds, arms crossed, waiting.

Steve exhales sharply, the fight draining out of him for a moment. “Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance?”

“No. I’m not implying. I’m stating.” Dustin says flatly.

The air feels heavy now. Steve’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, white-knuckled. “I have a girlfriend. I’m dating your sister!”

“And how’s that going for you?” Dustin’s tone softens, but it still cuts.

Steve’s chest tightens painfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, she’s like, super sad. It’s annoying. Doesn’t come out of her room. Pretty sure she was crying the other night-”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “Well, that’s not my problem-”

“She’s your girlfriend. Talk to her! My mom keeps asking me to talk to her, I can’t deal with it-”

“And she’s your sister! You talk to her!” Steve exhales heavily, voice low and strained. “Look, I was just trying to protect a friend. A friend, Henderson. Nancy is a friend, okay?”

Dustin nods, the tension slightly easing. “Okay.”

Steve looks away, gaze dropping. “I don’t wanna find her with her eyes sucked out of her skull by this Vecna creep.”

Dustin grins despite the tension. “You’re bright red in the face right now.”

“I’m not.” Steve’s voice cracks just a little. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll punch you so hard your teeth fall back out.”

“Whoa. Too far.”

“Not cool. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You and Nancy  both sit in the quiet hum of the microfilm readers, the glow from the screens casting soft shadows on your faces. Robin moves around the room, flipping through dusty books and scanning high shelves, leaving you both alone with the grainy images scrolling silently across the screens.

Between the clicks and whirrs of the machines, an awkward silence settles. You steal glances at Nancy, who seems lost in the shadows flickering over her face, her jaw tight, her eyes distant. 

“...How are things…with you and Jonathan? You okay?” You ask, voice low, hesitant.

Nancy glances up from the scrolling images, then nods. “Yeah! Yeah, we’re okay. Struggling with the distance but… we’re trying to make it work. How about you and Steve?”

You swallow hard, your fingers still on the edge of the reader. “I uh… I don’t know. It’s not—yeah. I don’t know.”

Nancy’s brow furrows with concern. “Oh… Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?”

You look away, voice barely above a whisper. “...It’s um... it’s whatever. It’s probably just stress and stuff…”

The words feel hollow even as you say them, the silence returning heavier than before, filled with everything left unsaid. The quiet tension breaks as Robin’s voice echoes through the archives.

“Hey guys!” She calls out, excitement clear in her tone. “I think I’ve found something!”

You trail behind Robin as you all rush out of the library, walky-talky pressed to her face. “Dustin, do you copy?” Robin calls out, voice urgent but controlled.

“Yeah, I copy.” Comes the quick reply.

“So, Nancy’s a genius. Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s-eye.”

You glance at Nancy, whose jaw tightens like the weight of the revelation is settling deep.

“Okay, that’s totally bonkers, but I can’t really talk right now.”

“What are you doing?” Robin presses.

“Breaking and entering into school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.”

You stop, blinking in disbelief.

“Can you repeat that?”

“Just get your ass over here, stat. We’ll explain everything.”

Nancy frowns. “Thought they were talking to Ms. Kelley?”

Robin shrugs, already turning toward the parking lot. “We leave them alone for two hours.”

You all pile into the car, adrenaline buzzing under your skin. Whatever this is, it’s far from over.

Taglist:

@answer-the-sirens @ashkuuuu @madaboutjoe @oatmealisweird @joeyugglakiller @teheabrams @criesinlies @lovers-111 @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

[insomniac-dot-ink]

A month later, an advert appears in the paper. You wouldn’t normally answer, the odds of getting caught would go up every time you do stupid shit, but your bike spoke broke. DoorDash had been suiting you just fine–you really could bike forever. But the spoke on your bike split like someone snapping their fingers and your heart sank. You used to love biking.

Plus, the advert felt targeted. Near the back of the paper, you’d been checking them every day now, and it was barely a paragraph. WANTED: Spirit or Ghoul with high endurance. Strong preference for ghoul. Flexible hours and attire. Temporary position, paid upfront. Meet at crossroads at twilight.

It was dated for that day. How presumptuous, you think, and you fold the newspaper in half and then in half again like you’re storing good wedding linen.

“I’m going out, grandma!” you call toward the drawing room.

Your grandma mutters to herself, she was a muttery person, before yelling back: “bah! No need to always tell me, you’re an adult, kitty Kate.” The statement was a little at odds with your childhood nickname, but grandma was always insisting you fly to Paris on your own or adopt a hellhound or buy a house. Well, you’d like those things too.

You're out the door in late afternoon. No heels this time, and your pantsuit had gotten a small grass stain last time so leave that too. You walk because of the bike situation, and you walk even more quickly when you’re out of your neighborhood. There were several devil’s crossroads throughout the city, most were tourist traps, but everyone agreed Old Town really did host an intersection of the otherworld. It was also a tourist trap, naturally.

You leave the sidewalk and walk up and then down several stone streets that become stonier with every block. Old Town is lousy with crowds and you suddenly wish you’d worn your pantsuit and heels. A ghoul that looks like she has a business degree might turn out better in their photos, you think.

Head down, eyes on your feet, you almost run headlong into her. She has a the same crooked smile that matches her crooked nose.

“You made it.” Stephanie is wearing a studied leather belt and a pair of black skinny jeans. You pang with jealousy–it must be easy for her to throw on pants or a long skirt and blend right in. “You’re early.”

You muster a smile and check the skyline. “Too early?”

She shrugs. “Depends on if you want the job. Come on, this way.”

Glancing around, you slide a face mask on. No way are you going to be identifiable near Stephanie and her gigs. You walk in step toward the back alleys, thick with shadows and crisscrossing side streets.

“I like the new hair,” Stephanie says as you walk.

You touch the ends of your shortened hairdo. “Thanks.” You muster a better smile. “I was going for morning weather lady.”

“Want to be on the news?” She snorts, and you don’t mention you interviewed at a local radio station. You didn’t make it to the second round. Stephanie points at her own head. “I was mainly talking about the color.”

You feel a blush creep down your neck, and you’re even more glad you put on the face mask on. Had you meant to bleach your hair the same white as hers? God, you’re embarrassing.

“It’ll fade soon.” You sigh, tosling your Weather Lady locks.

“Green?”

“How did you know?” you say dryly. “I used to tell the kids in class that it was part of a curse on my bloodline. Haunted by the ghost of grass or limes, I suppose.”

“I take it spirits aren't the source?” You kind of like that you have her attention, this stranger out of time.

“Nah.” You smile behind your mask and lower your voice, “my family’s favorite symbiote. Can’t get enough of us.” You refrain from saying the word “fungus” since no one wants to hear their companion has a mossy covering from her hair to her teeth. You’d tried dying your hair a hundred different colors as a teen and the fungus always repopulated from the scalp outward.

She laughs, dusty and a little grating. “Is that the difference between a ghoul and a spirit, then? One has phantom green and the other makes their own.”

“Something like that . . .” You are distracted by the empty street ahead. Old Town takes a drastic turn into a residential district, pock-marked by dank puddles and frayed laundry lines. The doors are firmly shut on either side of you, and Stephanie leads around the corner to a layer of bright yellow tape.

“Here we are.” She grins at the crime scene tape.

You set your jaw. “Paid upfront.”

—------------------ The alleyway has a neglected feel, straddling the line between the tourist district and the one for everyone else. An ATM sits at the corner, a soda machine, another machine just for bottled waters, and a third one, near the back, surrounded by a web of police tape.

Stephanie has you hang back until the sun splinters across the horizon and turns the sky a quilted purple. She nods, pulled her hood up, and has you duck your heads under the tape.

You follow as low to the ground as you can, eyeing the mouth of the alleyway. “Where are the cops again?”

“Getting special forces.” Stephanie rolls her eyes. “A priest. Come on.”

Crossing the yellow tape in a few bobbing steps, you see why they’re getting a priest. The vending machine is gently glowing. You cup your eyes, and press your face to the glass, glancing between the licorice packs and rolls of powdered donuts. “Jesus Christ,” you say when you see it, which is appropriate.

A fingerbone slots at the very front of the candy bar wrung, caught in the spring like a gruesome snack. The bone is sun-dipped yellow and cracking in places. You jerk back when you blink and the fingerbone reappears among the cracker packets a second later. You feel slightly ill.

Stephanie clicks her tongue. “Saints’ bone.”

“What is it doing in there?” you ask without taking your eyes off it.

Stephanie gets to her knees in a creaky, pained movement. “Some kids used it to pay.” Your mouth falls open and Stephanie cuts in, “Saints bones can be used to pay for anything.”

“Yeah--and for miracles,” you say pointedly. Like the miracle of getting stuck in a vending machine, you guess.

“Kids.” Stephanie says and makes a ‘what can ya do’ gesture. She adds more quietly, “hungry ones. And when the cops go looking for them maybe there is nothing in the machine after all. Maybe their eyes were no good and there is no illegal owning of bones or holy objects used as currency.”

You suck on your bottom lip and follow Stephanie down to your knees, hoping the kids at least got one of every kind. “Why can’t it get out?” You never see the finger move, but every time you blinked, it changed positions.

Stephanie propped open the mouth of the vending machine, wrapping her knuckles against the glass with her other hand. “Bit like a casket . . . Bones don’t leave the casket.”

You groan and peer through the vending machine slot, flexing your right hand and eyeing the finger bone. “Two hundred,” you grunt, “now.”

You get $250 for your troubles, inflation and all that. You jam your entire arm in and reach. Your eyes burn from holding them open, locking the bone in place with your gaze, and shoving half your shoulder into new, fascinating positions. The pad of your finger grazes the bottom of the bone.

“Ow!” You realize why no one else has yanked it out yet. “It bit me.” Jerking your hand back, pinpricks of sluggish black blood dribble out of the tip of your finger. Technically, the bone didn’t really bite, but it had become sharp enough to cut.

Stephanie let out a long breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t register you . . .”

You growl, “ghouls aren’t undead-undead. It wouldn’t recognize me as one of its own.” Stephanie rubs the back of her neck and you let out another groan. “Whatever. Stand back. Give me some room.”

You blink several times until the bone reappears close to the bottom of the case and you jam your whole arm in all at once. You growl, knowing what to expect now. You tell your body to forget your hand. When you yank the damn thing out, black blood sluggishly weeps down your wrist.

“Fuck you too.” You throw the bone to the ground and shake your hand out.

“Hey! Careful.” Stephanie dives on the finger bone, slamming what looked like a shoebox down on it. The lid seals and begins glowing faintly. Stephanie glances up from the ground. “You okay?”

You cover your hand with a handkerchief before she can see. “I will be.” One of your fingers may have been dangling off but your grandma had remedies for that. The moss was useful for more things than just dye.

Stephanie frowns in a way that suggests birthday party cancelations or a rash you can’t reach. She slides you another fifty. “Hazard pay.”

You plan to stay and clean up any trace of blood or fingerprints, but Stephanie grips the box in both hands and turns. “Come on. The witch said we only had until the sun sets.”

“But . . .” You look between the back of Stephanie and the machine.

She waves a hand in the air. “We’re professionals!”

Who is “we”? you wonder. But the less you know probably the better. You check that the gore is contained to her hand all the same and run after her a second later. “Are,” you swallow, panting and looking at the shoebox. “Keeping that?”

“The kid swiped it from the family’s heirlooms, I suppose.”

You grip your pulsing right hand and lower your voice further, “should they be getting it back?”

Saints’ Bones were almost always stolen, claimed by raiding soldiers generations ago or crooked thieves, and kept apart from their holy bodies. Stephanie looks both ways before crossing the street, and then turns on you. “Should, should, should. Shouldn’t you be in the military? Ghouls get paid like CEOs there.”

You study your feet, sun disappearing behind you and leaving you both in the dark. Stephanie steps in close and hands you a brick-like cellphone. “Well, if you’re interested in more gigs in the future. . . I won’t have to pay any more newspaper fees.”

A part of you considers smashing the phone to the ground, but you take it in your good hand.

“So I can mangled again?” you say this to your shoes, still gripping the phone.

She waves, weakly, and presents a meager smile when you look up. “Well, I mean, you’re good at it.”

You snort and turn away, trying to hide the sudden warmth in your chest and temptation to buy a leather belt. She doesn’t let you watch her leave and you decide to bus home for once.

--------------------

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into series if people are interested!

WANTED

You find the advert face down on the table. You’re picking up after your grandma. She insists her mind is sharp as a tack but her empty tea cups and loose handkerchiefs and day-old newspapers litter every surface. You scan the paper, and a part of you is sure there aren’t any more jobs like this.

The paper is yesterday’s paper and the various jobs match LinkedIn: nannying and dog walker and kitchen staff. The advert, the one, is stark against the others. You read the tiny printed words over and over, always getting stuck on the word WANTED.

Your friends told you not to go: what kind of job asks you to meet in the middle of the woods? What kind of jobs has no website or contact info? What kind of jobs were advertised in the goddamn paper? You friends wouldn’t get it.

Anastasia, your best friend since third class, tells you to keep your “Find My Phone” on and call when you get there. She really wouldn’t get it. Your grandma tells you that this is the world, the other version of it, and you are her granddaughter. So go.

You walk the three and a half miles in high heels. This job probably wouldn’t even expect high heels, but old habits die hard. You were once convinced in college your girlfriend cast a curse on you, the sleepless nights and a relentless rash proved it. Now that you’re an adult, an adult-adult, you don't think so anymore. If anything was a witch’s spell, it was LinkedIn. Hours and hours of youth wasted on the same go-around.

5 years of experience and 3 different references and no street parking but the bus is only a block away. You can walk, right? Unpaid overtime and shaving your legs to go sit for an hour in an uncomfortable plastic chair. That’s an unusual last name, is it a family one? Ah. I see.

You can walk for a long while. Your heels slup, slup, slup in the soupy ground and it takes you longer than you’d like to look around. The street lights dwindle. The trees gather. The path disappears. The woods are thick and unfamiliar and an iron fence rises in the distance. Despite the late summer heat, the air smells of frost. Maybe Anastasia was right–whether you are your grandmother’s descendent or not.

She comes out of the woods on rail-thin chicken legs. Her skirt is short, cut at a horizontal angle, and she looks like where the punk scene from the 80s went to die. She has a studded leather jacket and bleach-blonde asymmetrical hair. You shove your hands in your stupid suit jacket and check the skies. Half-moon, just risen, you’re right on time.

“You here for the advert?”

“It’s half-moon, isn’t it?” you say back and flash her a tight smile. You had had a sudden sinking feeling about her ability to write you a paycheck. 

She looks you up and down. “Spirit?”

“Ghoul.” You shrug. “Yaga?” She sticks out one of her stalky chicken legs. “Servant of one. Two gens back. On my father’s side.” Your strained smile gentles. “I’m Katie.” Her smile sharpens in response. “Stephanie. Come on, let’s take a walk.” “Was that a real advert, Stephanie?” You saddle up beside her despite yourself. “Cause if you’re just here to pull my leg, know that I'm pretty hard to put down.” She lets out a harsh laugh that sounds like it hurts. “I’m counting on it.” She winks. “Now, not sure I know your line so well, what’s the difference between a ghoul and a spirit?” What is a spirit or ghoul? What was a gig worker or a salaried one? Perhaps a whole length away. Stephanie pushes a bush aside to reveal a hole in the iron fence and leads you through. The grass turns from wild heather to manicured green and you emerge into a field of rolling hills. Your skin prickles. You might be hard to kill, but not to capture. You stay low to the ground.

“Can I be paid upfront?” Her breath smells of winter frost and fresh-turned soil. “You down that bad?”

You survey the trimmed grasses and gentle slopes, the unnatural prickle spreads through your skin to your bone. A house rises in the far-distance, and you swallow thickly. “Is this some Scooby Doo shit?”

“Come on.” She pushes your shoulder. “I’ll pay upfront. The only real question is if you’ve got a pair of lungs on you.” You toss your ponytail back. “For as long as you like. But, I gotta ask, are there really not any free banshees right now?” Stephanie’s smile falters for the first time. “Old world is dying,” she snorts. “Or just buried deep enough to feel that way.” “We’re still here.” “Still here.” She slips you two hundred and takes you to the side of a small lake. The water is murky and the edges form an unnatural drop. She hands you a lightweight dress, gauzy and impossibly white, and you wrinkle your nose. You looked back and forth between the far-distant house and the lake.

It took you the whole walk to place the gate and the house and the land: The Turnpikes. Built almost seven generations back and larger than ever. You couldn’t imagine. The old world was dying, but you supposed it was also just right there. You put the dress on and kick your heels off. Gathering your stuff, Stephanie gives you a big thumbs up and backs away. You take a deep breath, you don't need many, but you had a feeling it would count.

A light in the far-distant window turns on. You see your grandma in your mind’s eye, her tangled green hair and wicked little smiles. All this for two hundred? But a ghoul isn't a banshee. You jump in feet first.

The wet and the cold and the dank water with no memory swallows you. You submerge in the tiny manmade lake, and when you come out, you come out screaming.

The fear of ghouls is an ancient one–something hard to kill. That can walk forever, fight forever, go Without forever. And you think, as you toss your head back, drip water, and let your lungs rattle in your chest, that you might scream forever too.

For two hundred bucks, a ghoul can be a banshee and a world can be made old and new and when you scream, you can scream until you’re made real again.

------------

Newsletter 🧡 Pre-order my new book!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Kalim Al-Asim: Gonna be Golden

… Was NOT expecting THAT pose why did he go to the Kingscholar ceremonial robes school of fukboi hand-in-hair posing with THAT expression, but alright 😭 Jamil voice) you stop that right this instant, mister. dhejebjwkw I guess I’ll just pretend Kalim is patting his stomach and rubbing his head at the same time or something www

The groovy gives me anxiety too 😭 It’s supposed to be a bunch of Scarabia students stopping Kalim from going crazy with his makeup happy pride, guys, but the framing makes me think Kalim is about to be jumped. The groovy also makes me think of Ruggie’s?? Both are doing their makeup with eyeshadow but their social statuses are so different and it shows in the illustrations.

Rise and Shine!

You found an open space along the crimson tiled wall of Scarabia’s washroom and park yourself there. Leaning back, you casted your eyes to a small crowd that had gathered around a vanity. Several pans of eyeshadow were open and spread around the counter.

Seated in the center of the activity was a boy who shone like the sun, pulling everyone to him. His light, his warmth.

“Hmm… What should I wear today?” Kalim wondered out loud.

“How about this one, dorm leader?” a mob student suggests, holding up an eyeshadow quad in different shades of turquoise. “The colors would make your face pop.”

“Or this one?” another offers, showing him a deep gold. “It would really suit you.”

“Red,” said a third, indicating a palette with a striking shadow the color of crushed pomegranates glistening like a ruby. “To match your eyes.”

“Just pick one already. If you spend too long on this, you’ll be late for class,” Jamil grumbles, sounding none too pleased. (He’s been hovering and clucking at Kalim like a mother hen for the past—you consulted your phone—20 or so minutes.)

"But it's so hard... There's too many colors to choose from." Not even a few seconds had passed before Kalim shot up, brighter than ever. "I know! What if I just wore all of them?"

"ALL of them?!" A chorus of shocked cries and makeup brushes clattering to the ground filled the washroom.

Jamil, looking particularly distressed, pushed his way to the front of the group. He moved so quickly, you could have mistaken him for a deadly poison finding its way to Kalim's heart.

"You can't be serious," Jamil protested. "There's far too many colors here. Just how to you intend to fit them all on your eyes?!"

"I figured I could make them fit if I used them for my whole face! You know, like face painting," Kalim chirped, digging his thumb into a pot of royal blue. "I could do a butterfly! Maybe a peacock?"

"Nope, I'm vetoing that!!" Jamil snatched up the pot from Kalim's open palm.

Kalim seemed to not have heard him. He dipped his other fingers into open pots on the counter: green on his index, gold for the middle, magenta for the ring, and red on the pinkie.

"Close them!" Jamil hissed to the mob students. They swooped in from either side, hurriedly screwing the lids over the eyeshadow pots and snapping up the palettes.

You used your hand to stifle a laugh. So early in the morning, and already Jamil was so, so close to losing his mind.

The vice dorm leader shot you a cold stare. Your skin bristled. "If our guest finds this situation laughable, then perhaps they could kindly step in to assist."

"Good idea, Jamil!" Kalim wiggled his makeup-covered fingers at you. "Which one do you like best?"

You peeled away from the wall and mase your way over. Scarabia students parted and, herded by Jamil, shuffles out the door. He's the last to leave, but you knew he hasn't--you felt his presence lingering, ready to leap back in at the first hint of danger.

You stopped right behind Kalim, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. Lowering your face so that it, too, nearly rests on his shoulders, you grinned at him in the mirror.

“You’ll look handsome no matter what you go with, Kalim. Really.”

There's a loud cough from the doorway. Jamil.

You rolled your eyes. "... But maybe your usual eye look would work too? That's what I'm most used to seeing you in. It's pretty iconic." Picking up a brush, you lightly tapped it against Kalim's cheeks. "And you can do the rest of your makeup differently to make you look extra special. Like maybe some highlighter. You'll be glowing."

"Oh!!" He brightened, and it's like the sun is shining a spotlight on you. Your blood heated. "That's such a great idea! Okay, let's go with that, then."

You nodded and straightened, prepared to step back. retreat into the dark. That's when Kalim called out your name, and you glanced back at him.

That warm, light-filled boy.

The sun, pulling you back into his orbit. And you, unable to resist it.

"... How do you do this?" Kalim asked cluelessly.

You sighed with a smile and shook your head. "Geez, you’re hopeless. Here, let me show you."

[pheastinyworld]

winning gold ❀•°•───────•

request: what do gabe and his gf do to celebrate after world juniors 😘

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none i think, get's the TINIEST bit suggestive at the end?

author's note: "em, thank you for the photo to the right + helping phe with writing details" we again say to @perre4ult . also, nonnie, im so sorry but it took a kinda different turn in terms of "celebrating" cause i really didn't want to repeat the new years piece, there's more fluff at the start to make up for it.

| phe's main masterlist |

you had just gone out to grab something to eat with liliane, wanting to give gabe space to have his pre-game nap. letting the time get away, you realized it was time to get back and get ready for the game. the game. the final against finland. 

you were about to head over to ryan’s girlfriend’s room, having plans to get ready with her and some of the other girls, but you remembered that you had left your makeup bag in gabe’s room. he had insisted on keeping it with his luggage because you couldn’t fit it in your suitcase. but you had forgotten to take it back before leaving, despite mentally reminding yourself several times. 

standing outside the hotel room, feeling guilty and wondering if you should just ask to borrow somebody else’s makeup products, you dug out the spare key gabe had given you from your bag. 

sighing, you unlocked the door and pushed your way in, trying to be as quiet as possible. gabe was sharing a room with both ryan and james, so you knew that making any noise would not only disturb your boyfriend but two of gabe’s teammates. and you definitely did not want them playing poorly because of you. 

you had to hold your hand over your mouth just not to laugh when your eyes were met with the three boston college linemates, all of their beds pushed together, mouths open, faces buried into their pillows. 

after you quickly pulled out your phone to snap a silent picture of them, you moved swiftly to one of gabe’s duffle bags, which, just your luck, had to be right at the edge of his bed. you made light steps towards the bag and kneeled down.

the zip made a loud noise when you pulled it and you scrunched up your face, peeking up to cheek if they were all still asleep. to your relief, all three of them were cold out. once you finally found your makeup bag after searching through stacks of gabe’s clothes, you closed the zipper again. 

you quickly peered back up to get one last look at your boyfriend before you’d see him on the ice, but your heart absolutely drops. you're met with his smile facing you, eyes wide open, grinning when you slap your hand over your mouth, surprised at how close he suddenly was and definitely not expecting him to be awake.

“fuck, gabe, you scared the shit out of me.” your hand moved down to your chest as if you were gripping at your racing heart, trying to calm it down.

gabe chuckled, pulling his hand out from under the comforter to brush some of the hair out of your face. you shuffled closer to the edge of the bed on your knees. he’d obviously moved there while you were busy searching for your stuff.

“sorry.” he whispered, taking a look behind him to see his teammates still fast asleep and turning back to look at you. 

you tilted your face to the side until it lined up with his, which was still resting on the pillow, his cheeks warm and rosy from sleep, his scruffed-up hair making him look even more boyish than usual. you felt like your heart was slowing, easing its fast paced beating just at the sight of him; his face full of love that made you feel all giddy inside. 

“had to get my stuff, sorry for interrupting your cuddling sesh.” you whispered, trying not to laugh and wake the other two boys up.

“don’t get jealous on me baby, you know you’re my favorite cuddle buddy.” gabe replied, his voice low to stay quiet, and raspy from sleep.

you rolled your eyes before running your finger against his cheek and his eyes gently shut in response. you leaned down to place a fleeting kiss onto his lips. “good luck today. i’ll be so proud of you whatever happens, just so you know,” you mumbled against him before pulling away. 

gabe smiled softly, a low hum escaping his throat as his eyes fluttered open, then slowly blinked shut again. you loved when you caught him like this. that sort of of sleepy state where his voice ran deep and he blinked slowly in that kind of lazy, content way that made it clear he was already slipping back toward sleep.

you heard him whisper a “thank you,” eyes already shut. you placed another kiss onto his cheek before getting up again, tip-toeing your way out of the hotel room and shutting the door as lightly as possible. 

after getting ready and hanging out with some of the girls, you all made your way to the lobby where you met up with gabe’s family before heading to the arena. 

from the moment you stepped inside, the energy was electric. before the game had even started, the noise was louder than you had ever heard for a hockey game. the chants, the excitement and fire temper that people omitted during a gold medal game. 

looking around, your stomach twisted slightly. you loved going to all of gabe’s hockey games, but you seriously hated how nervous you would get. being at a stadium with so much weight on one game was a type of anxiety that you both loved and hated. 

you spotted signs mocking ryan’s nose; ryan’s girlfriend scowled, her nose scrunching up as you rolled your eyes. some fans had drawn cartoons of him, making him look ridiculous, and people were yelling things like “let’s go finland, let’s go!” louder than you thought was possible. you knew how fierce the usa-canada rivalry is; you had seen it first hand when usa versed canada. you realized fast that almost no one was on team usa’s side, apart from the handful of fans who crossed the border. 

by the time the first period started, the stadium was filled with boos. the whole arena felt stacked against them, and you begin to tug on your scarf. the game was back and forth, every second felt like your heart was being pulled in opposite directions; at moments it was dropping and at others it was pounding excitedly. finland got the first goal in, but james scrambled to get the puck into the goal minutes later.

second period and two goals for both teams. you were literally sweating through your jersey. 

“oh darling, you look like you’re going to pass out.” gabe’s mom rubbed your back, chuckling at you but you could tell she was keeping her own nerves at bay, probably used to the stress. “do you want some water? i brought spares.”

you still couldn't believe how welcoming gabe’s entire family was to you. you would have totally understood if they were closed off and sceptical; a hockey family wanting to protect their youngest boy. but they were instantly so nice, even laughing at you when you asked if they would rather you sit with some other girlfriends and not in the family section with them. 

“yes please, thank you.” you responded politely.

when overtime hit, you thought you might actually pass out from nerves. zeev had a chance off gabe’s pass, for half a second you thought it was over, the gold was theirs, but no goal happened. 

“they're playing well. he's doing good.” gabe’s dad said to no one in particular, more to himself than enyone.

and then it happened.

about ten minutes into overtime, ryan got the puck on his stick. you barely remember breathing. it was all a blur: the quick pass to teddy, the breakaway, the way the puck slammed into the back of the net. 

“OH MY GOD!” you remember liliane screamed in your ear all hugh pitched, grasping at your arm when everyone bounced onto their feet. 

the noise was deafening, usa fans screaming, the boys were leaping over the boards, gloves flying, helmets tossed. you were hugging anyone in sight, family members who were just as overwhelmed and giddy as you.

when the medals came out, you couldn’t stop smiling that the tops of your cheeks were aching. after ryan ran to the team with the trophy, gabe managed to get a hold of it first and skated around, holding it up proudly.  

there he was; your boy, sweaty, hair damp, smiling wide and with a gold medal shining around his neck.

“i told you already, i can see your eyeballs forming into gabe shaped eyes, its worse than before.” liliane giggled at you, swatting your arm playfully with her spare hand, the other holding up her phone to record her baby brother.

you all knew that leaving the arena was going to be something else; you were decked out head-to-toe in red, white, and blue. there was sure to be angry finnish and canadian fans filling the halls, so family members slowly made their way out. you would be waiting even longer than after most games for sure, so there was no rush.

you took an uber back with gabe’s family to meet up with everyone in the hotel lobby, waiting excitedly for the team to arrive. his mom kept checking for gabe's updates on how close the team bus was and his dad and brothers were quickly getting drinks from the bar, already preparing to celebrate. 

absolutely exhausted from the sheer excitement and energy, you and liliane sat on the carpeted floor, leaning against each other as you both shared videos you had just captured. 

but the second the boys walked in? the whole place erupted. clapping, cheering, people whistling and yelling their names. it was absolute chaos as the boys shouted and cheered, jumping up and down with the lingering adrenaline. both you and liliane jumped to your feet, laughing as everyone cheered. 

you spotted gabe right away, still wearing his jersey, medal swinging on his chest, and that goofy grin that made your heart melt every time. all the boys rushed toward their families and gabe was engulfed by a warm hug from his parents once he made his way over, his siblings giving him bear hugs each. you barely had time to react before he was in front of you, pulling you into him, his arms tight around your waist.

you leaned back just enough to smirk at him. “your neck is all sticky. did they dump champagne on you or something?”

he laughed, the sound warm and a little tired, his cheeks still pink. you seriously loved how his cheeks went pink at absolutely anything; actually you were a bit jealous he had a natural blush and you didn't. “maybe a little,” he said leaning in like he was about to nuzzle you anyway.

you’re boyfriend had just won gold; he was grinning like a kid, breathless and gripping your sides just to ground the giddy feeling that hadn't left his chest since lifting up the trophy. 

you just smiled back at him and wiped at the damp spot on his neck with your sleeve. “do you know how proud i am of you?”

gabe grinned, leaning down to peck your cheek before whispering into your ear, “yeah, but it couldn’t hurt to show me later.” now your cheeks were flushing red and gabe chuckled, kissing your other cheek before continuing, “we can slip away later.”

[revelboo]

Do you have any bay Ratchet crumbs to spare?

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Need

Bayverse Ratchet x Reader

• “Wait-frag, I said wait,” he groans and you start laughing when you roll your hips and bounce on him, hands wrapped around the metal piping of the brush guard on his chassis for leverage and his sirens and lights cycle quickly before he can stop them. Feels your head bump against him as you snort, but you’re holding still at least. Giving him a chance to get himself under control so he doesn’t just rut into your wet heat. Because even mass displaced, you’re tiny and stretched so tight around his spike.

• Laughing even as the sudden chirp of his sirens startled you and his lights blinded you for a second so spots are still dancing in front of your eyes, you hear his frustrated rumble. Feel him grip you around the middle and begin to move you slowly on his spike with a groan when you want fast and hard. “Ratch,” you moan breathlessly, rocking your hips urgently as his spike pushes deep, feeling every ridge as he stretches you and he lifts you so the head of his spike nearly slips free before he’s lowering you again. “I need fast.” Can’t climax without it and he smirks. Because he knows.

• “You’ll get fast after I’m done,” he counters, smiling when you groan a protest that he’s being mean. When you’re the one who’d come out of the back and walked past him in his vehicle mode, hip sliding against his fender. Making sure he’d been able to scent that you were back there touching yourself. Have to have been to scent so strongly of heat and need he can almost taste it. Teasing him thinking there would be no repercussions.

• Trembling as he takes his sweet time, finally beginning to move faster, denta gritted as he drives up into you in hard, wet slaps before he’s overloading to leave you behind and you whine his name again. Hear him muttering an ‘alright,’ as he lifts you free of his spike and drapes you on your belly on a crate, legs hanging. You can feel the edge of the crate digging into your thighs as he leans over you, venting against the small of your back and his mouth opens against your shoulder. “You know they’re all going to scent me on you,” he growls and you feel the head of his spike leave a damp trail on your inner thigh as he lines himself up and stretches you in a hard drive. “Know I’ve been inside you, that you’re mine.”

• Hips pumping in that urgent rhythm you need, his servos flex on your hips. Those whimpers and moans of yours so sweet amid the wet sound of his spike driving inside you. And you’re getting louder, running the risk of Jazz or Optimus coming to check on the noise. What will they think if they see him rutting inside you? Filling you? Imagines their expressions seeing his slick trailing down your thighs, should be embarrassed at the thought like a decent bot, but it just cranks everything hotter. Hears you scream his name and there’s no way they didn’t hear that as you fist his spike and he’s bucking against you, overloading again as his hand smacks against the crate for balance, shuddering as he fills you and hears steps outside the store room. Should stop, pull out and pretend nothing happened, instead of moving inside you all over again, hips snapping against you. Let them see. Let them know you’re his.