#but since i'm not walking i have to do something

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 16

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

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

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

And now that you’ve returned?

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

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort, angst, moral dilemmas, emotional turmoil, controlling behavior, past life death.

A/N: Here's another angsty chapter that builds up to the big explosion of events that is the climax. I apologize in advance if this makes you sad, but trust meeee it's so necessary for what I'm cooking up, y'all. Very complex emotions we're having here. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! There are only a few chapters left for the main story (maybe 4 at most?) but we're getting close!

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

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

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

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

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

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Part 16:

Even If It Damns Us

The night was quiet in the way only alleyways could be. A hush built of neon hums, distant cars, and the muffled clatter of lives being lived behind thin walls. Jinu walked slowly, his steps echoing soft and deliberate against the concrete. He hadn’t spoken a word since Rumi left. He didn’t know how to.

The letter echoed in his head: “You were always the best part of us.” The kind of love Daehyun had written about didn’t feel like the kind demons were allowed to have. It was tender. Raw. Built not on power or pacts but something deeper. Something harder.

Belief.

Jinu had read those words and felt the weight of them like a blade pressed to the chest. He didn’t know Daehyun — but in those lines, he did. That ache, that desperation to rewrite fate for the sake of the one you loved… it was too familiar. Too close to his own marrow.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he reached the end of the alley.

The journal was worse. Or better. He wasn’t sure. The words had danced in and out of translation, the ink warping and glowing beneath his fingers like something alive. Rumi had deciphered the obvious, but the deeper magic… the structure of the ritual, the concept of a tether…  that took someone like him to unravel. Someone old enough to remember the shadows those symbols were born from.

A tether. Not just a seal. A gate. A guardian. A chance for love to rewrite the laws.

The soulbond had to be strong. Stronger than anything forged by blood or command.

Three voices. One heart. That was the part that snagged in his thoughts. 

Then he thought of the others. Jinu’s brows furrowed as he stopped beneath a streetlamp, the pale light catching in his golden eyes. Haneul… he’d say yes. He always would, if it meant saving you. And Hwimori — he’d weep through it, but he'd do it, even if he didn’t fully understand.

But Seungho? Seoha? Jinu could already hear their voices, echoing in his skull.

“You want us to try an ancient ritual that already failed once?”

“What if it doesn’t work again? What if it kills her?”

“What if it kills us?”

He clenched his jaw. They weren’t wrong. If they failed… If they failed, you wouldn’t just die. You’d shatter. Again. Maybe forever this time. And still — wasn’t that already the risk they were taking? Sacrificing strangers to Gwi Ma in hopes of bartering your soul? As if you’d ever forgive them for that.

If you found out there was another way… and that they didn’t take it? Jinu’s breath hitched. That would destroy what little was left of your trust. Of your heart. That would destroy your faith in them. It would be another secret. Another wound you didn’t deserve. And gods, wasn’t he already drowning in those?

His steps slowed. His heart tightened. He saw you again. The you he loved… standing in the center of their living room. Your voice breaking, your hands trembling, pleading with him through the ache. “There has to be another way.”

You had looked at him like he was already lost. And maybe he was.

Because back then, centuries ago, when your body turned cold in his arms, he had begged Gwi Ma to bring you back. Had clawed at the gates of the demon realm until his hands bled with magic and memory. He had sold everything just for a chance to see you smile again. And now… now there was a chance.

He thought back on the journal. If they could do it right this time — with enough preparation, with the bond strong enough, with all three of them in unison… Could it work? Would it be enough?

He wanted to believe it.

He had become a monster for you once. He’d do it again. But if there was a way to save you without becoming that monster… if there was even a sliver of a path that led to you smiling, to you believing in them again— Wouldn’t it be worth it?

Wouldn’t it be worth everything?

Hope curled in his chest like a fledgling flame. He would try. He had to. For you.

And then… the world cracked.

A pulse of heat spiraled down his spine. His demon patterns flared bright and angry against his skin, burning with recognition. The light of the streetlamp bent sideways. The shadows shrank in — whispering, curling, clawing.

He staggered a step back. “Fuck—”

The air thickened like oil. His breath turned to smoke. And then, A voice. Low. Velvet. Inevitable.

“Still playing hero, Jinu?”

His eyes widened — glowing molten gold just before the ground gave way beneath him, yanked from the mortal plane by invisible chains of darkness.

And with a soundless crack, Jinu was gone. The alley vanished. No light. No gravity. Just falling… or maybe being pulled through something colder than time and darker than death.

Jinu landed hard. The stone beneath him pulsed faintly, alive with ancient heat. Shadows pressed in from every side, thick with rot and silence. The air itself tasted like burnt offerings, sweet with decay, sharp with ash.

Jinu groaned, pushing himself up with a hand to his ribs. The moment he stood, he felt it: the eyes. A crowd of demons ringed the space, silent and still, their monstrous forms barely visible beneath the veil of mist and flame. Some bore wings tattered by time. Others dragged tails slick with blood. Some wore no form at all. Just shapes of smoke and bone, curling in on themselves like forgotten nightmares.

But every eye was fixed on him. Not in awe. In fear. They looked at him like he was already damned.

Jinu scoffed and rolled his shoulders. “What’s with the long faces? Everything’s going to plan.” he muttered, his voice echoing too cleanly in the void. He tilted his chin toward the black sky above them, “Look at all these souls, huh?”

And there they were. Dozens, hundreds of souls streaming through the void like shooting stars. Each one shrieking, burning, twisting as they were devoured by the dark. Once, he would have looked at them with indifference. Now… Now they looked too much like the souls you begged him not to take. 

He looked away. A small demon near the edge, eyes wide and glassy, spoke, voice shaking. “Turn around.”

Jinu did.

And the void behind him… ignited. An inferno of impossible size. Pink, violet, magenta, coiling and writhing like a serpent made of starlight and screams. It had no form, no face, just consuming will. The core of the Demon Realm. The origin of all pacts and punishments.

Gwi Ma.

Jinu exhaled through his nose, every muscle in his body going still. Then came the voice. Silk and thunder.

“It’s funny.” The words sliced through the silence. “I thought for a moment… you actually believed you could deceive me.”

A slow, crackling laugh rose from the fire, deep and endless and hollow as a grave. Jinu tried to laugh with him. His voice came out a little too tight. “Yeah… that’s… that’s funny.”

But the laugh faded, and the flames grew. “Because if you truly believed her… if you really thought you could escape me, defy me… then you would watch your precious human soul be torn…”

The flames surged— “…to pieces.”

Jinu had just enough time to gasp before the world around him collapsed. He screamed as something invaded his mind. A hand not physical but impossibly present, ripping open thought, memory, truth.

His eyes flashed. And the vision began.

The wind howled. Branches reached toward the sky like veins made of light. Beneath them stood a woman. Long black braid down her spine, hands raised toward the Hunter’s Tree. The roots of it glowed with ancient, sacred magic. The kind that belonged only to hunters. A tree so old, it breathed the rules of the world.

The woman was trembling. Around her, voices sang. Not in unison, but in haunting, overlapping echoes. The melody was wrong, bending at the edges, barely clinging to harmony.

She whispered a name. And the moment she did, she was consumed by pain. A blinding light burst from her chest as the soulbond activated. It wasn’t controlled. It was wild.

The Tree responded violently, sensing something that didn’t belong — a soul that was sworn to the hunt calling on ancient magic.

She screamed as light split her body apart. Not blood. Light. Her soul fractured like glass beneath a too-heavy weight. Splinters of her flew into the tree, disappearing into bark and root and air. Her scream grew higher, more animal, more human… until it cut off.

Gone. Just like that.

And behind her, kneeling in the dirt… was a demon. Hair violet as a bruised sky. Face contorted in helpless agony. His hands shook as he reached for her, too late.

Daehyun.

He let out a sound no living creature should ever make. The scream of someone whose heart had been ripped from his chest. Jinu felt it all. All of it. As if he had been there. As if it were you under that tree. He collapsed to his knees, breath ragged, tears already spilling down his face.

“If you think that myth was real,” Gwi Ma whispered, “this is the fate that awaits her.”

The flames circled again. And more visions struck.

You.

Collapsing in his arms, blood pooling beneath you. Eyes blank. Lips parted with your last breath.

“Again.”

You. Throat slit in Seoha’s embrace, his trembling hands soaked in your blood.

“Again.”

You. Stabbed through the abdomen by the emperor’s blade, Seungho’s voice hoarse from screaming your name.

“…And again.”

You, burning, drowning, falling, breaking. Dying in every life he ever tried to love you in. Jinu screamed. Tears ripped from his eyes unbidden. He dropped fully, forehead to the ground, shaking like a man shattered.

Not again.

He couldn’t see this again. He couldn’t lose you again. More deaths. More endings. More you. Just gone. His heart thundered against his ribs, too big for his chest.

“Don’t forget our deal, Jinu,” Gwi Ma said softly, “because I can remove her from the cycle.”

Jinu gasped, his lungs refusing to fill.

“Or…”

And suddenly, the pain paused. Memories surfaced like a balm to burning skin. You, curled up beside him on the couch, eyes closed in trust. You, laughing at one of Hwimori’s jokes, sunlight on your cheek. You, in his arms, half-asleep, murmuring his name in the dark.

Your smile. Your voice. Your love. So fragile. So beautiful. So yours.

“…I can give her to you. For all eternity.”

Jinu trembled, still on the floor. His fingers dug into the stone, as if anchoring himself to anything real. He wanted that. He needed that. But then— You screaming beneath the Hunter’s Tree. You breaking. Shattering. Because of him.

“Don’t think you can escape what you are. What you created” Gwi Ma’s voice faded into the fire.

But the image remained. You, screaming in pain. You, smiling in his arms. The two versions of your future playing like twin stars at war in his mind. And somewhere deep inside him, under the grief and guilt and fear… a choice waited.

And a whisper rose: “I can’t let that happen.”

His hands tightened into fists. He wouldn't lose you again.

Not like that.

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The sun spilled weakly through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft gold wash over the Huntrix apartment. Pajamas rustled and the sound of quiet footsteps echoed in the living room as the three girls settled into their usual spots. Zoey curled up on one of the loveseats, Mira sitting on the edge of the coffee table, and Rumi perched at the edge of the couch with her long braid trailing over one shoulder. The empty dishes from breakfast had been cleared. The silence that hung in the room wasn’t heavy, just thoughtful. Expectant.

Rumi smoothed her hands over her knees. “Look, the last few weeks have been... hard,” she began, her voice steady but not defensive. “And I admit I haven’t been at my best. But I know we can win today. We just have to sing the right song.”

She paused, heart thudding against her ribs. They were going to attempt the ritual. The song had to be Golden. Not just because the lyrics resonated or because the melody carried hope—but because the ritual demanded unity, belief, and harmony between their hearts and true voices. Takedown was a war cry. Golden was a promise.

And if they had even a sliver of a chance at completing the tether, of saving Y/N, thousands of people, and ending this without a massacre—it started there.

She opened her mouth again. “And Takedown... it isn’t—”

“It’s okay, Rumi,” Mira cut in gently.

“We agree,” Zoey added, eyes downturned.

“It’s not the song that’s gonna connect all our fans,” Mira said, her eyes locking onto Rumi’s.

“It can’t even connect... us.” Zoey added dejectedly.

The three of them fell into a tender conversation. Not awkward, just vulnerable. They didn’t need to hash it all out again. Not the fights, not the fractures, not the days they’d spent in different corners of their shared space, afraid to say the wrong thing. Somewhere between whispered apologies and long talks on their truths and true feelings, they'd come to understand: Together, they could be their truest selves.

“I’m afraid of losing you guys,” Rumi admitted, her throat tightening slightly after Zoey and Mira had shared their sentiments. “And that’s why we have to finish this. All these fears, it’s the demons talking. But later... we can win this war. We can be free of these fears forever.”

Mira and Zoey exchanged a look. That same shared look they always had when they made a silent decision together. She’s sincere. She’s Rumi. Their sister, their anchor. They could trust her.

“We agree, Rumi,” Zoey said again, this time more softly. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was still something lingering in her gaze. A question. Rumi tensed before she could help it.

“On another note, for things to go smoothly…” Rumi began, trying to steer the conversation forward, “Has Y/N replied to any of your messages?”

Mira and Zoey froze for a second. Their eyes darted to each other again, but this time, not in reassurance. It was hesitation. The weight of what they’d seen last night. The notes, the symbols, the pieces of something much larger than they understood, pressed down like a held breath.

“What?” Rumi asked, narrowing her eyes. “What’s with that look?”

“…Now that we’re being honest,” Mira said slowly, “is there any other reason why you want Y/N to be there?”

Rumi’s breath caught in her throat. “What? What do you mean? If she’s there, it just means the Saja boys won’t—”

“We know, Rumi,” Zoey interrupted gently. “And we agree with that. We trust you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“It’s just…” Zoey looked sheepish. “We were looking for your hairdryer last night. You know, the one with the lightning-speed cold setting? Your hair takes like… years to dry.”

Mira snorted, but didn’t smile.

“And we found something else,” Zoey said, more carefully now.

“We didn’t mean to snoop—” Mira jumped in.

Rumi’s stomach twisted. Her heart began to race.

“But we found your notebook. It must’ve fallen out of the bed. We saw some of the pages. Runes, symbols, ritual diagrams… Y/N’s name. And something about the Honmoon—”

“You guys went through my stuff?” Rumi’s voice came out sharper than she intended.

“It— we didn’t mean to find it!” Zoey said quickly, holding up her hands. “But... you wrote about the Honmoon. A ritual. Rumi, what was that? You can tell us.”

“We know you’ve been keeping some things from us,” Mira added, gentler now. “And we don’t doubt there must be a good reason.”

“You don’t have to tell us everything now…” Zoey hesitated, glancing at the uncertainty in Rumi’s expression. “Look, we trust you. But we just need you to explain that so we understand. Just a little.”

“Whatever you’re doing, or planning, we know it must be for a good cause.” Mira looked to Zoey, both of them silently deciding to stand by their friend.

Rumi closed her eyes for a second. Her mind spun. No. She couldn’t tell them everything. Not about her parents. Not about Jinu. Not about the ritual itself. Not yet.

But she could give them a truth that wouldn’t collapse everything.

“I’ve just been… curious,” she said finally. “About the soulbond. About how it might affect Y/N. And the Honmoon. I’ve never seen a bond like hers before.”

She looked at her hands. “I grew up with Celine. My training started a lot earlier than yours. There were things I read, secrets, old texts… and I guess those notes were me trying to piece things together. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what any of it meant. It’s all half-deciphered.”

She exhaled slowly. “The reason I want Y/N to be there is because yes, for extra measures. But also… because I was trying to understand something I read once. That someone with a soulbond could become… something like the Honmoon.”

Zoey blinked. “What? Like… a human Honmoon?”

“Something like that. It’s difficult to explain. But… remember when the Honmoon glowed on the train yesterday? When she took my hand?”

They both nodded slowly, eyes widening. “So you think… Y/N could become the Honmoon?” Mira asked.

“Not exactly,” Rumi replied. “I don’t know. But it reacted to her. That’s never happened before. I think she might be able to… change something. And it could be something permanent. As in— no more weakening of the barrier. Something that could seal the demon realm away forever.”

The living room fell quiet again. Zoey looked at Mira, then back at Rumi. Her gaze softened.

“How do you know this? Forever? Like, we wouldn’t need to strengthen the Honmoon every year?” Zoey questioned.

“Something like that,” Rumi nodded, eyes troubled. The weight of it all felt heavy on her shoulders. “Look, I still have to confirm it. And if anything happens, then we seal the Honmoon anyway with our voices. It was just something I wanted to look into…” 

Zoey and Mira softened. They hadn’t realized how much their friend must’ve been carrying. The secrets, the weight of responsibility, the fear of being wrong… or worse, right. For all Rumi’s walls, she had never stopped trying to protect them.

“You don’t have to explain it all now,” Zoey said gently. “We’ve got to go soon anyway. But just tell us what we need to do.”

Rumi looked up, startled. She hadn’t expected them to say yes, or that they’d believe her just like that. That was it? They didn’t demand any more questions? She almost felt guilty that she wasn’t telling them everything.

Almost wondered if she had told them the whole truth, maybe they would understand…

“Y/N needs to be there, right?” Mira asked. “Would this... whatever it is, really be stronger than the Honmoon?”

Rumi hesitated and thought of her father’s journal. The symbols. The words ‘Three voices. One heart.’

“I think it might,” she said softly. “There’s no harm in trying.”

Lie. Everything depended on this. Your life. The life of thousands. Jinu’s and the rest of the boys.

“I just need you guys to sing with me,” Rumi added.

Both Zoey and Mira blinked. “That’s all?” Zoey asked.

Rumi nodded once. “That’s all.”

But in her head, she was already reciting the other pieces. The soul. The sacrifice. The choice. She would take care of the rest. She just needed their voices.

The girls were quiet for a moment. Then, as if making a silent decision again, they nodded. They still got the feeling she wasn’t saying everything. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it wasn’t the time. Maybe trust was more important than the truth right now.

She was their best friend, after all.

“Okay,” Zoey smiled. “Let’s go crush that stage.”

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You woke to the sound of breathing.

Not your own, but deeper, heavier, more beast than human. A warm exhale tickled the strands of hair at the crown of your head. You shifted and felt the drag of fur against your skin, the soft weight of an enormous paw still draped across your waist. Derpy.

He hadn’t moved from his post beside you. Not once.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, lashes stuck together from the dried salt of sleep. The ceiling above was awash in morning light, blurry and pale. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The ache in your limbs was less physical than it was emotional. Your body weighed down by sorrow, as if grief itself had climbed into bed with you and held you down by the ribs.

From the curtain rod above, a chirp echoed. A melodic little sound that normally would’ve made you smile. The Magpie. It was perched like a guardian at your window, its glossy feathers twitching with the breeze, head tilted as though waiting for you to rise.

“Morning,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice a broken thing. Not even Derpy stirred. You curled into him instead, pressing your face into the soft fur of his chest and let your fingers tangle into the warm fluff there. He gave a low, sleepy grumble, pulling you closer with a sound that felt like safety. His scent, charcoal and cedar, firewood and something ancient, wrapped around you like a memory.

This was the first night in a while where you had actually slept alone without one of the boys beside you. Holding you. You almost hated how wrong it felt to be without them wrapping you in their embrace through the night. You’d almost become dependent on it. Used to it. 

You let yourself stay like that for a few seconds longer. Just a few seconds where you could pretend this was normal. That you weren’t in a guest room because you couldn’t bear to sleep beside your lovers. That today wasn’t the day. That your tears hadn’t soaked this pillowcase the entire night.

But peace, like all beautiful things, was fleeting.

Because today was the Idol Awards.

And with that thought came the sickening dread. Like something clawed up from the pit of your stomach and wrapped itself around your spine. Today… they were going to do it.

Today, your boys, the ones who had memorized the shape of your hands, who cradled you when the night got too heavy, who whispered promises against your skin like prayers… were going to kill for you.

Hundreds. Maybe thousands. A sacrifice. A slaughter.

You flinched at the word. It felt too sharp, too real. How could the same hands that held you like you were glass... break the world in your name? You stared at the ceiling again, trying to breathe around the guilt in your throat. But it didn’t move. It never did.

You’d begged them not to go through with it. You thought they might listen. You thought love might be enough.

Had they found another way?

You wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that somewhere between all the pain, the planning, and the desperation, they had chosen something better. That they had chosen you, not as an idol or a reason to become monsters, but as a person. A girl who cried when she was overwhelmed. Who burnt pancakes. Who loved them deeply but wasn’t ready to carry this kind of darkness.

But you knew better than to cling to hope like that. Hope was delicate, and you’d learned it always broke when you held it too tightly.

Outside your door, muffled voices floated through the walls. Footsteps. The clink of dishes. A quiet hum of life. And then—

“…Just eat something. You’ll collapse like this. Did you even sleep?”

Seoha. The world stilled. Was he…?

Your throat tightened. He was talking to Hwimori. You sat up slowly, hands trembling, suddenly too aware of the way the silence behind your door felt heavy. Familiar.

Did he stay out there all night again?

The thought gutted you. You imagined him, slumped against the doorframe, knees tucked to his chest, lavender hoodie wrinkled from hours of stillness. Head drooped. Maybe he’d curled up like a cat, just to feel close. Just to wait for you.

Your heart cracked.

Hwimori didn’t need words. He never had. His love came in gestures. In the way he poured you water before bed. In the way he whined when you were sad. In the way he tucked his body close to yours like he was trying to hide you inside his ribs. 

How could you explain this to him? How could you look him in the eye and say: You can't protect me this time. You can't follow me.

You couldn’t. You didn’t know how.

But you had to try. Because if they went through with this today… there would be no turning back.

You reached blindly for your phone, needing something to anchor you. Anything. One new message blinked on the screen. It was from Rumi.

‘Hey, how are you? Just checking in to ask if we'll be seeing you in the Idol Awards today. Please come. We'd love to see you there.’

Your breath hitched. The words weren’t heavy. They weren’t even long. But they carried so much warmth it made your chest ache. After everything, they still wanted you to come. They still thought of you.

You turned your gaze toward the corner of the room, where your bag sat in a forgotten heap. And tucked inside it, like a talisman from a world that used to feel simple, was the invitation.

Technically… you could still go. No one had taken it from you. Your fingers clenched the bedsheets. Should you?

The question stabbed through your brain like a needle.

If you went… you could stop them. Maybe. If you threw yourself in their path. If you stood on that stage and looked them in the eye and said no loud enough, would they finally listen?

But what would it cost? Would they see you as the enemy? Would they snap, break, and tear the world apart with you in it?

And what if you succeeded? What if you did stop them? Would it cost you your life? Would Gwi Ma take you anyway? Would the bond shatter? Would they survive without you?

You closed your eyes, and the memories came like a wave. Jinu brushing the hair from your face with a ghost of a smile. Haneul, pressing your hand to his chest, as if it would calm the storm inside him. Seoha’s whisper-soft voice telling you your name like it was something sacred. Seungho, brushing your lips with his, like a vow he wasn’t allowed to speak. Hwimori… curled up beside you like he never wanted to be apart.

You had never loved anything more in your life. And now you might have to break it.

You pressed your palms into your eyes. Hard. Trying to force the thoughts away. Would you be cruel to take yourself from them forever?

Yes.

But would you be crueler to let them live with blood on their hands? To let them become the monsters the world always feared they would be?

You looked at the invitation again.

You had to go.

If they didn’t listen today, if they locked you away again, you’d sneak out. You’d walk onto that stage. You’d make them hear you. You would not let them burn for you.

Not like this.

Your chest tightened as you picked up your phone again, thumbs trembling over the screen. For a long moment, you just stared at Rumi’s message. Then, slowly, you typed back.

‘Hey, Rumi. Thanks for checking up on me. I haven’t been in the best state of mind since yesterday. But I’ll be there today.’

You hit send. There. It was done.

The decision made your whole body feel heavy, like it had sunk deeper into gravity. But at the same time, something in your chest settled quietly. Like a match being struck in the dark.

You rose to your feet, legs trembling under the weight of it all. Derpy shifted beside you, giving a low growl as if sensing the tension in your chest. The magpie chirped again, more insistently this time. You knelt and buried your face into Derpy’s fur.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Please stay here. Please watch over them.”

Then you scratched the magpie under its chin, your hand shaking as you turned toward the door. Your fingers brushed the lock.

This was your last chance.

Please, you begged in your mind. Please listen to me.

You unlocked the door and stepped out with trembling hands, half-expecting to see him there, Hwimori curled up on the hallway floor like some loyal creature refusing to leave your side. But he was gone. Only silence greeted you.

He must’ve gotten up. Maybe to eat. Maybe because the others had coaxed him to rest. The thought brought a flicker of relief to your chest, even as dread slowly poisoned your veins. The air was heavy, almost still. You padded softly down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But it was too late.

They felt you.

You didn’t hear them move. You sensed it, the quiet shuffle of a knife being lowered, a breath being caught. Their bond tethered to you still, even if your hearts felt galaxies apart.

You turned the corner into the kitchen. They were all dressed. Already prepared for the Idol Awards, outfits tailored to perfection, hair meticulously styled, skin aglow beneath soft lights. They looked breathtaking. Unreachable. Heavenly and damned all at once.

But to you, they looked like men dressed for a massacre.

Jinu stood with arms crossed, wearing a black loose flanel dusted with midnight glitter, like stars swallowed in shadow. His jaw tightened the moment his eyes met yours. He didn’t speak.

Haneul held a tray in his hands, still plating what looked like congee and sliced pears. His soft magenta hair was slicked back, lips parted like he was just about to call for you.

Mystery had been sitting at the kitchen counter, legs drawn up to the stool. He froze, his entire body turning toward you like a hound sensing heartbreak. He whimpered, soft and low.

Seoha stood by the window, back straight, brows knit. He looked like he hadn’t slept, yet he was flawless. Pale silver shirt hanging loosely over his frame, one hand tightening around the glass of water he never drank.

Seungho was leaning against the wall near the door, half-hidden in the shadow. He had one earbud in, scrolling something on his phone before you entered. Now the phone was forgotten. His dark eyes burned into you.

They looked at you like you were a ghost. Their silence screamed louder than any greeting. The air crackled with emotion, too sharp, too raw.

You saw it in the way Jinu’s fingers dug into his biceps. The way Haneul’s shoulders slumped slightly. The way Mystery blinked too fast, trying to stop tears from forming. Seoha’s knuckles were white on the glass. Seungho’s jaw ticked, like he was clenching something deeper than anger.

You wanted to speak, but for a moment, you couldn’t. They looked so painfully beautiful. The kind of beautiful that ripped you apart. You remembered thinking they looked like angels the first time you saw them. Now, they looked like angels dressed for war.

Haneul swallowed first, voice hushed and soft. “You’re up.” The tray in his hands trembled.

You nodded slightly, the gesture barely perceptible. Your chest throbbed. You wanted to scream. Instead, you looked at the tray.

“I was just about to bring you breakfast,” he added softly.

You looked into his eyes, those eyes that had only ever gazed at you with kindness, and felt your heart break all over again. Even now. Even now they make time to care for me. How could they be so gentle… and still choose to destroy?

“Thanks,” you whispered.

They all flinched. Even your voice hurt them. You felt the bond tighten, a tether pulled taut over fire. Emotions rushed across it like static: their pain, their panic, their overwhelming desire to soothe you, to shield you, even from themselves.

Your eyes drifted to the bags by the door. Audio equipment and suit bags. “You’re really leaving, huh?” Your voice cracked.

No one answered right away. Then, Jinu’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

His voice was hard. Cold. But he wasn’t looking at you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t watch your face crumble in sadness and heartache again.

Your lip trembled. "You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, voice shaking. “You still don’t. There has to be another way.”

Silence.

"I’m begging you,” your voice cracked. “Please. I know you think this is the only path, but you haven’t even tried to think this through with me. Not really. And if you have and you didn’t tell me, then, then how am I supposed to live with that?"

Seoha’s throat bobbed. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Haneul’s fingers tightened around the tray. His knuckles turned white. Hwimori looked like he was about to cry again.

“We’re doing this to protect you,” Seungho said. The first to speak. His tone clipped. Defensive. But even he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

"Protect me?" you echoed. “By killing hundreds? Thousands? You think I want to be protected like that?”

They flinched again.

“You think I can live with that? That I’ll look at you and still see the men I love?”

“You’ll be alive,” Jinu snapped. “That’s all that matters.”

You stepped forward, tears beginning to fall. “No. It’s not. I’d rather die than become the reason you do this.”

That stopped them cold. Haneul stepped forward. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you barked. “It’s the truth! If I live and all those people die, then I might as well already be dead. Because I’ll never be able to forgive myself. And you’ll never forgive yourselves either.”

“You think we haven’t already accepted that?” Seoha said, voice low and trembling. “We know we’re monsters.”

“You’re not,” you cried. “You don’t have to be.”

“But we will be,” Hwi whispered. “If it means keeping you, I don’t care.”

Those words broke you hearing them from Hwi. They broke something in you. “You love me that much?” your voice cracked. “Enough to destroy everything else? What about you, Haneul? What about your promise to be good?”

Haneul’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I’d rather be damned with you alive than be good and lose you again.”

You stood there, heart in pieces, body barely holding together. But you didn’t walk away. Not yet. You couldn’t. This… this was your last chance. Maybe not with logic. Not with morality. But with love. 

You took a trembling breath, and then you stepped forward. Slowly. Cautiously. Like you were approaching the edge of a cliff, and they were the drop. Please. Please, just see me.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

They did.

“I know you think this is the only way,” your voice shook. “I know you’ve made peace with it. That you’ve convinced yourselves this is for me. But I’m begging you…” Your knees nearly buckled. “I’m begging you,” you repeated, stronger this time. “Don’t go through with this.”

You moved first to Hwimori. He was closest, always closest. You reached out and gently took his hand, holding it with both of yours like he was something fragile, sacred. Your thumbs brushed over them like a prayer.

“Hwi…” your voice wavered. “I know your heart. I feel it every day. You’re loyal, you’re kind… you don’t have to do this to prove that you love me. You already do. I already know.”

He whimpered softly, trying to stay strong, but the moment your hands touched his, his shoulders collapsed inward. His fingers trembled around yours, but he couldn’t let himself crumble. Not yet.

You turned to Haneul. He was standing there, tray still in his hands, unmoving. As if this entire scene had frozen him in place. You reached up and gently set your palm on his chest, over his heart. It pounded beneath your hand like a frightened thing.

“I know you’re the one who keeps the rest of them together,” you whispered. “You’re the voice of reason. You’ve always tried to be good, Haneul. Please, don’t silence that part of you now. Don’t throw it away just to keep me breathing.”

His eyes welled. “Y/N…”

“I need you to be good,” you begged. “Because if you’re not… then who is?”

He looked down, jaw tight, blinking hard.

You turned next to Seoha. His entire body was tensed, arms crossed as if holding himself together was the only way he wouldn’t fall apart.

“Seoha…” your voice turned softer. You uncrossed his arms, gently, one at a time. He let you. Your fingers traced the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. “You think you’re protecting me, but this will ruin you. This will rot something inside you that you’ll never get back. And I love you. I want to love you forever. But I won’t know how to if you come back from this... empty.”

He inhaled sharply. Still… no one said no. Still, they chose silence.

You turned to Seungho next. He hadn’t moved a muscle. As always, unreadable. Cold. But his throat had bobbed, once. And that was enough for you to try.

“You’re pretending this doesn’t hurt,” you said. “But I see it. I feel it. You’re terrified, aren’t you? Not of the blood. But of what I’ll become if you go through with this. If I hate you. If I leave.”

His fingers flexed. But he said nothing.

Finally, you stepped toward Jinu. He hadn’t looked at you this whole time. His jaw was tight. His fists clenched. Like if he dared meet your eyes, the dam would break. You stood directly in front of him. You placed your hands on either side of his face. And when he finally looked at you… gods, it nearly undid you.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you whispered. “I don’t need you to be strong. I need you to choose me. Not like this. Not in blood. Not in screams. Just choose me by staying. By trying.”

His breathing was ragged now.

“I love you,” you whispered. “But I don’t know if I’ll survive watching you become the kind of monster that thinks this is love.”

You leaned your forehead against his. And then, quietly: “Please. Don’t go.”

For a single heartbeat, the bond held still. Then his hands rose. Not to pull you in, but to gently remove yours from his face.

“If I have to carry the weight of every soul in this world to keep you alive,” Jinu said, his voice hoarse but resolute, “then I’ll do it with a smile.”

You blinked. Your hands dropped like stones. Your body stepped back without you even realizing. Like those words pushed you off the edge you were so desperately trying to balance on. You stared at him. And something inside you cracked… slow and agonizing. That shattered you. 

“Fine,” you rasped, stepping back. “Then go. Just go. Burn the world down if it makes you feel better. I hope you win your stupid awards.” You turned on your heel, back toward the guest room, your shoulders trembling.

Seoha called after you. “Wait—wait, Y/N—please, that’s not what we—”

You spun. “What?! That’s not what you meant? Then what do you mean, Seoha? That you love me so much you’d rather be feared than be without me? That your love only knows how to consume?”

“I’d rather be hated and have you alive than worshipped and lose you,” he choked.

Your heart thudded. You stormed back into the guest room, wiping your tears with the heel of your palm. Haneul and Hwimori followed.

“Please—” Hwi started.

“Don’t,” you snapped. “I get it. You’ve made your choice. Now I’ll make mine. Go.”

And that’s when Seoha noticed it. Your bag. Partially packed. The glint of a glossy gold edge sticking out from the zipper. His breath caught. You noticed and you moved to cover it from his view, subtly. But it was too late.

Seoha’s eyes darkened. He leaned in and whispered something to Haneul. Haneul’s eyes widened, then he left, hurried and quiet, to tell the others.

Seoha remained behind, kneeling before you. “You can hate me all you want,” he said. “But we’re doing this for you. Even from yourself.”

You opened your mouth, confused, but then Jinu entered the room. Followed by Seungho. Then Haneul. Then Hwi. They all stood in front of you like shadows. Like a wall.

Jinu’s voice was cold. “You’re staying here.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not leaving this apartment,” Seungho said, eyes flat.

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t stop me.”

“We can,” Jinu said. Quiet. And that was worse.

You stepped back, heart hammering. “I said I won’t leave, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

They all looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Go,” you whispered. “Just go already. You’ve made up your minds.”

The tension in the room knotted like a stormcloud, pressing into your lungs, your spine, your soul. They didn’t want to do this, but they would. Because they believed it would save you.

You sat down on the edge of the bed. Head bowed. Shoulders shaking. You couldn’t bear to look at them. Jinu walked forward. You saw only the hem of his shirt, the faint glint of his belt buckle, the rise and fall of his chest. He knelt. You didn’t look up. You just felt the kiss he pressed to the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice low and breaking. “Even if you hate us for this. Even if we burn. I’d rather burn a thousand times than have to bury you once more.”

He stood, and one by one, reluctantly, they left.

The sound of the front door closing echoed like a tomb sealing shut.

You sat there, alone. Tears sliding down your cheeks in silence. You were left there, crying once again on the bed.

The silence of the apartment pressed in like water flooding your lungs, like time itself had stopped in mourning. The distant click of the door closing behind them echoed endlessly in your head. A requiem. A closing prayer.

They left. They really left.

You curled into yourself, arms wrapped tight around your knees, body trembling in the aftermath. The bond between you and them didn’t dim, but gods, it felt like it frayed. Like a red thread stretched too far and pulled too taut.

Derpy whimpered low beside the bed, nudging your hand with his damp nose. The magpie cooed mournfully from the window ledge. Their presence was warm and heavy beside you, like a weighted blanket on your chest. You reached a shaking hand to stroke Derpy’s fur, brushing the spot between his wide, eerie eyes.

“I tried,” you whispered, voice cracked and broken. “I really tried…”

You looked them in the eye. You begged. You touched their faces with every ounce of trembling hope you had left. And still… they said no.

After everything, their priority was still you. Always you. And maybe that should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t. Because what comfort is there in a love that burns everything down in your name?

What solace is there in being adored so fiercely it suffocates?

Their love wrapped around you like vines, lush, blooming, and beautiful, but tightening with every step you took away from them. A garden and a cage. You were their heartbeat. Their reason. Their undoing. And now… they were going to become monsters for you. Willingly.

You stopped crying eventually. Only because your body had run out of tears. Still trembling, you rose and padded into the kitchen barefoot. The apartment was pristine. Every surface spotless. Everything in its place.

Except you.

You sat quietly and ate the congee Haneul had made, lukewarm now, but still comforting in a way that hurt. You imagined him in the kitchen that morning, carefully ladling it into the bowl while the others argued. Still thinking of you. Still putting you first, even when the worst part of him knew he might never see you again without blood on his hands.

You forced yourself to finish it in silence. You owed him that much.

You washed your bowl and dried your hands, padding back into your room like a ghost. You took a shower, the heat of the water droplets soothing what mess your face must’ve been at the moment. You got out and got dressed, drying your hair in an attempt to look as presentable as you possibly could after everything.

Your eyes drifted to your bag and there it was. The golden envelope, shining like guilt. Your fingers hovered above the zipper. 

What would happen to them? Huntrix? You knew for sure they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

You pulled the invitation out slowly. Its weight felt heavier than it should’ve. Like it knew it could tip the balance of everything.

Could you do it? Go to the awards? Get in the way? Stop the soul harvest? Could you really face them again, knowing that you might have to choose between them and everyone else? You weren’t a hunter. You weren’t a demon. You weren’t powerful like them or strategic like Rumi or fearless like Zoey and Mira. You were just… you.

And still. You had to try. You had to at least try.

Because if they went through with it and you hadn’t given your all… if you’d just let them go and waited here like a good little doll, then their sins would become yours, too. The guilt would eat you alive.

No. You wouldn’t be complicit in this. You would do everything you could. Because you loved them. Gods, you loved them. But love wasn’t supposed to cost the world. And maybe, just maybe, if you showed up, if you stood there in the middle of it all, it would stop them.

Maybe they wouldn’t be able to do it with you watching. Maybe they'd choose you and the world.

You folded the invitation and tucked it gently into your bag. Your fingers lingered on the zipper, then you turned. Derpy sat by the door, tilting his head at you. The magpie flapped over and landed on your shoulder, pecking once at your hair gently.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice thick. “I shouldn’t go. They asked me to stay. But…” You crouched down to scratch behind Derpy’s ears. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

He let out a low growl, almost like a whimper. You rose and walked slowly to the front door. Hand trembling, you grabbed the knob and turned it.

Nothing.

Your brow furrowed. You tried again. Twisting it harder. Pushing, pulling. Still nothing.

“What…?”

You jiggled it harder. Yanked at it with both hands. Panic rising like bile in your throat. Then suddenly, a soft hum filled the air. A ripple of magenta light pulsed from the door like a drop in water. A shimmering shield spread outward in concentric circles, glowing faintly before fading again. Your heart stopped.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no—”

You yanked harder, kicked at the wood, slammed your fists into it. Another ripple. Brighter this time.

“No—!”

You pounded again, tears returning with brutal force. “Let me out! Let me out!”

Your foot struck the base of the door hard, pain shooting up your leg, but the door didn’t budge. The magic didn’t even flicker.

“No, no, no—please—”

You turned and ran to the balcony, flinging open the glass—and stopped. The same magenta shimmer encased the entire perimeter. It sparkled in the sunlight like a dome. Beautiful. Deadly. You slammed your hands against the invisible barrier. 

“Let me go!”

No answer. You screamed again, this time hoarse, guttural. Your knees buckled. You collapsed to the floor, forehead pressed against the cold tiles, chest heaving in broken sobs.

They had trapped you here for your safety. They had locked you in a gilded cage lined with silken blankets, breakfast congee and forehead kisses. But it was still a cage. You felt like a ghost screaming inside a house that had already moved on without you.

“They locked me in,” you sobbed. “They locked me in.”

You remembered the moment Seoha looked at your bag. The gold invitation had stuck out. That was it. That was the moment they knew.

“That’s what he told them,” you choked. “That’s what they saw.”

You pounded weakly on the shield again, fingers raw. “I should’ve been more careful…” You slumped down, pressing your back to the balcony door, head falling back against the glass.

“Why…?” Your voice broke again, barely a whisper. “Why would you do this to me…?”

Your thoughts spiraled. Their faces. Their love. Their obsession. The way Jinu held your face like you were made of stars and secrets. The way Haneul always tried to soothe. The way Hwi trembled when you hurt. The way Seungho tried to hide his pain behind that cruel quiet. The way Seoha said he’d rather be hated and have you alive.

They meant it. They loved you. So much that they caged you. So much that they chose your life over everyone else’s. And you… You were powerless. You were trapped.

You stared out through the shield toward the sky. Somewhere out there, tonight, people would die. People you’d never meet. Lives you’d never know. Because of you. Because they chose you. 

And no matter how tightly you wrapped your arms around yourself, you couldn’t hold that weight.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You had cried yourself raw hours ago. Now there was nothing left. Just a dull ache sitting inside your chest like a storm cloud that refused to rain.

You sat curled into the corner of the couch, knees hugged to your chest, eyes red and puffy, throat dry from silent sobs that had long since stopped clawing their way out. The apartment hadn’t changed. It was still warm, still soft, still falsely kind. But now it felt like a holding cell. A beautiful prison.

Derpy was curled against your legs, his breath steady and heavy like a tired drum. The magpie nuzzled into your shoulder, feathers ruffling as if he could sense the throb in your chest. They didn’t leave you.

But everyone else did.

Your demons… they were gone. Off to burn the world in your name. You didn’t know what time it was anymore. All you knew was that somewhere, right now, the Idol Awards were beginning. Somewhere, the girls were backstage. Somewhere, the boys were hiding in the shadows with blood on their hands and the fate of hundreds of souls hanging in their decision.

You clenched your jaw, fingers twitching against your knees. What were they going to do? Would they really go through with it? Would Huntrix be safe? You stared at your phone lying facedown on the coffee table. And then… slowly… you reached for it.

Your screen lit up with a soft glow that stung your eyes. The thumbnail of the Idol Awards livestream blinked at you like a warning sign. A window into the world you were no longer allowed to touch.

Your thumb hovered over it… and then tapped.

The screen opened. Bright. Loud. Chaotic. Your breath hitched. The stadium was packed wall to wall. A tidal wave of people. Thousands of fans cheering, holding glow sticks in shades of magenta and gold. The stage lights danced, cutting across the sea of movement. Two massive banners stretched across the main screen: Huntrix’s glittering emblem on the left, the Saja Boys' sleek sigil on the right.

Clips from Golden and Soda Pop played on loop, and the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd: “Tonight, two of the hottest idol groups battle for the number one spot. Who will take home the crown?”

You swallowed thickly. Your heart was pounding, each beat echoing like footsteps in an empty hallway. You didn’t realize until now… you never heard the boys’ Idol Awards song in full. They never played it for you.

Why?

A knot tightened in your stomach. Was the song part of their ritual? What would it sound like?

The announcer’s voice called out again. “Please welcome to the stage… the Saja Boys!”

The screams that erupted from the crowd were deafening. “Saja Boys! Saja Boys!”

You clutched the edge of the couch cushion, your breath snagging. Your chest ached. They were loved. So loved. Thousands chanting their name with joy in their voices, never knowing what kind of monsters they were about to witness. Or maybe never knowing at all.

But the stage remained dark. No one appeared. You sat up straighter, heart stumbling. What was going on? Was this part of the plan? Were they late? Hiding?

“Okay…” the host said, voice faltering. “There’s been… a slight change in schedule.”

Your stomach dropped. No. No, no, no.

“Here to perform their hot new single, Golden, please welcome… Huntrix!”

“What…?” you whispered, eyes widening. Why weren’t the boys on stage? Were they planning to sabotage them? You stared as the lights dimmed. And then… Three figures emerged from the fog. You recognized them instantly. Mira, Rumi, and Zoey. They glowed under the spotlight, breathtaking and fierce. The crowd roared again as they took their positions. The familiar intro of their song, Golden began to play.

“I was a ghost, I was alone…”

Rumi’s voice soared through the air, sweet and powerful, steady as a siren call. Her pitch was pristine, every note wrapped in gold. Their choreography snapped like lightning, sharp, commanding, flawless. They were magnificent. And yet, you watched with bated breath, a tightness crawling up your spine.

Their eyes darted across the crowd as they danced. Scanning. Looking. Were they looking for you? Guilt curled low in your gut. You never messaged them. Never told them you weren’t coming anymore. You just didn’t show. Your throat tightened.

Rumi hit her high note, spinning beneath the spotlight. “We’re going up, up, up—it’s our moment—”

She reached up and grabbed a golden ring descending from above. It lifted her gracefully into the air as she sang, her voice unwavering, her smile radiant. The audience erupted, and you couldn’t help it. After all the pain of the day, you smiled too. Just a little. Just for a second.

But then… as she sank back down and twisted to stand at the edge of the stage, belting that final note of the chorus, the lights cut out.

You froze. Was this part of the routine? A pause. Silence. The crowd murmured, confused. And then— A new beat. Louder. Darker. Sharper. You straightened on the couch. Was this a new song? You hadn’t heard this intro before…

“Takedown, Takedown, Take-down, down, down, down…”

Your stomach twisted. Something in your gut felt uneasy. This didn’t seem right.

“It’s a takedown!”

The stage lights exploded back on. Mira and Zoey now suddenly stood behind Rumi. The choreography changed. It was jagged. Threatening. Aggressive. But Rumi—Rumi looked confused. Her smile faltered.

You leaned forward, heart hammering in your ears. What was happening?

“So sweet, so easy on the eyes,

but hideous on the inside

Whole life spreading lies,

but you can't hide, baby, nice try”

The lyrics hit you like ice water. You blinked. These weren’t just aggressive, they were vicious. You watched as Zoey shoved Rumi. Then Mira. They circled her, threateningly. And then you knew that this… was definitely not part of the performance they planned.

Rumi stumbled slightly, eyes darting around. You could see it. The panic bleeding through her poise. What the hell was going on?

“And I see your real face, and it’s ugly as sin,

Time to put you in your place 'cause you're rotten within”

Your blood ran cold. They were attacking her on stage. Publicly. You watched in horror as Zoey gripped the edge of Rumi’s glittering jacket.

“When your patterns start to show,

It makes the hatrеd wanna grow outta my veins”

She yanked it down. First one sleeve, then the other. You saw it. Just a glimpse. And it was enough to make your heart stop. Violet patterns.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your phone nearly slipped from your fingers. Rumi’s arms, marked in the same magenta and violet etchings you knew too well. She had demon marks.

No. No—no, that wasn’t possible.

"I don't think you're ready for thе takedown, Break you into pieces in a world of pain, 'cause you're all the same”

Rumi was a hunter. She was one of them. Wasn’t she? What the hell were you looking at? She stumbled backward, desperate to cover herself. Her hands trembled. Her face was twisted in anguish. 

“Yeah, it's a takedown A demon with no feelings, don't deserve to live, it's so obvious"

"...I'ma gear up and take you down"

Mira and Zoey whispered something in Rumi’s ear. Rumi shook her head violently, eyes welling. You could barely breathe. You had a strong feeling she didn’t know this would happen. She didn’t want this.

And then it happened. The music twisted and glitched for a second. And Rumi—Rumi screamed.

“NO!!!”

The lights shattered. The audio cut. A scream so raw it pierced the barrier between performance and reality. Glass broke. And then, under a single surviving spotlight, you saw it.

Her body glowing. Her face twisted in fear. The same patterns the boys bore, exactly the same, etched across her skin. Her chest. Her neck. Her cheek. Pulsing violet and magenta.

A demon. Just like them.

You sat there in stunned silence, hand pressed to your lips, frozen in time. Rumi…

What the hell just happened?

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Wahhh guys, the action, the tension! It's building! I'm sorry for the angst, but I wanted to make the reader's emotions as real as possible. Her reactions and decisions. I also wanted to emphasize how limited our options are. How all we can do is beg because let's be real- we're just a girl, not a hunter, not a demon... all we could do at this moment is the best we can muster. Our inherent nature is goodness, and I wanted to tackle this inner conflict of us having to deal with demons who love us so much that they're willing to do evil and bad things in our name. It's not an easy situation at all.

I also wanted to emphasize Huntrix's relationship with one another. Zoey and Mira trust Rumi, and that's what's going to make the big reveal of her being a demon 10x harder. The scene where they accept what she's up to and offer to help - I feel like I needed to write it out this way to make the betrayal sting a bit more and emphasize that in the next chapter. With that all said, thank you for reading as always!

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

Willa x.

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

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[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Caleb seeing you again, post break up (?)

Imagine he did not mean to be here.

Imagine the city of skyheaven had long been erased from his itinerary, scraped from every plausible route like a wound he refused to scratch.

Imagine he knew better than to tempt fate. Knew better than to stand too close to the place that once smelled like your perfume and gun oil and rain.

Imagine and yet. The city was the same and entirely different. Bigger now. Shinier. He hated that.

Imagine he hadn't walked these streets since the day they pulled him from the wreckage, burned and half breathing and told him it would be easier, for everyone, if he stayed dead. That silence was the best protection. That ghosts could not be hunted.

and Imagine he agreed. He agreed, because your name was the only thing he could still speak through the pain.

and Imagine if staying away meant you would never have to cry at another hospital door again, then so be it. He could live with the silence. He could die in it, too.

Imagine he thought he could. Until he saw you. You weren't supposed to be there. Not here. Not now. But there you were, standing across the street like some cruel hallucination. Laughing.

and Imagine next to you, a man. Broad shouldered. Close. Familiar enough to trigger something deep and wrong in Caleb's chest.

Imagine you laughed at something he said, head tilted toward him. Natural. Effortless. You looked like you had healed. And Caleb had never felt so ruined.

Imagine, for a moment, he thought the ground might fall out beneath him. His mind scrambled trying to rationalize, trying to remember how to breathe. Had he missed something? Had someone told him you'd moved on? Were you married now? Engaged? Happy? And then came the worst part. He had no right to ask.

Imagine he had given that up. The day he chose to disappear, he buried every version of your future that included him in it. That had been the cost of your safety. Of Pips', MC safety. Of peace.

Imagine he had told himself you were better off.

Imagine he told himself the grief would fade, that you would move on. He had even prayed for it on nights when the pain crawled up his throat and took the shape of your name.

but Imagine, he didn't think it would hurt like this.

Imagine the way his fingers curled into fists at his side. Something inside him screamed to cross the road. To say your name once, just once, and fall to his knees in front of you like a man who finally realized what he had truly lost.

but Imagine, what would he even say? 'I'm sorry I let you bury me.' 'I'm sorry I let you cry.' I'm sorry I'm still breathing and too much of a coward to tell you that I never stopped loving you.' No. He couldn't do that to you.

Imagine you looked okay. Whole. Even if it was an illusion, it was one he wouldn't shatter. So he took a step back. Then another. His heart was still frozen on your laugh.

Imagine that is when he heard it. "Caleb." It wasn't your voice. Just a whisper from behind him. A contact. A handler. A tie to the life he lived now. One that didn't have room for love, or futures or the girl across the street he once promised to come home to.

but Imagine, it was enough. The name was enough. Because you turned.

because Imagine, even through the chaos of the street, the tide of the city moving like static between you. You heard it. Your head lifted. Your gaze swept the crowd. Searching. For him.

Imagine the way his lungs seized. The way he turned before you could find him. And still, he felt your eyes chasing him long after he vanished into the crowd.

Imagine, at the same time your cousin said, nudging your elbow. "Come on. They're setting up for the memorial soon. You don't wanna be late for your own pilgrimage." You smiled faintly. "It's not a pilgrimage."

Imagine the way your cousin glanced at you. "You visit the same place every year. Same street. Same cafe. Same lantern." Your smile faded. "Maybe that's how I remember him."

Imagine today was Caleb's death anniversary.

Imagine you didn't want to think about the years that had passed. About how many anniversaries you had survived since that day. Since the explosion. Since the call. Since they handed you his tags in a sealed envelope with no body to bury.

Imagine you didn't talk about how the nightmares stayed for months. Or how you stopped wearing anything with sleeves because the fabric reminded you of holding his hand in that hospital once, cold and bloodied, before you ever said I love you out loud.

Imagine you walked the city with your cousin because you didn't trust yourself to do it alone. Because every corner of Skyheaven remembered him. And because grief, when shared, felt a little less like drowning.

but Imagine, this year something shifted. You laughed. The joke wasn't even that funny. Something about the train maps. But it spilled out of you anyway, unfiltered. Genuine. And you hated how foreign it felt.

Imagine it felt like you were betraying him. Like joy was something he wouldn't recognize on you anymore.

then Imagine, as if summoned by your guilt, you heard it. His name. Caleb. Soft. Behind you. Half lost in the wind. And something in your chest broke open.

Imagine, you turned. Eyes scanning the crowd like a reflex. For one heart stopping second, your lungs forgot how to breathe. You didn't know what you were looking for. You didn't even let yourself believe. But your soul reached for something. For someone.

but Imagine there was no one. Just the city, like always. Just people moving on. Just the silence that followed you every year.

Imagine the way you blinked back the sting in your eyes and caught your cousin looking at you. He didn't ask. He never did. He just offered his hand. And you took it.

but Imagine, you glanced back one more time before following him down the street. The ache in your chest whispered that you had missed something. Or someone.

Imagine the name you hadn't said in months tasted like ash when you spoke it again. "Caleb."

and Imagine, somewhere in the crowd behind you, the ghost you mourned kept walking. Alive. But too far gone to return.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

[kattheogcat]

Don't look for me! Please do...

Pairing — Lando Norris x afab!Reader

Summary — Sometimes feelings build up and sometimes they reveal themselfes with an explosion...

Genre — angst, established relationship

Wordcount — 2.8k

Warnings — fighting, yelling, colorful language right from the start, misscommunication

Rating — pg-13

A/N — I will repeat myself until my thumbs go numb but, don't kill me about inaccuracys of the world of f1. I'm new here TT

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©kattheogcat on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

“You know what? Fuck you! If you can´t even take the time for 5 seconds to greet me, then don´t count on me caring to see you tomorrow either!” you hissed at the wide-eyed man leaning against the headboard of your shared hotel room bed.

“Don´t search for me at the paddock.”

And with that you were out.

Grabbing your purse, phone and keycard you turned and walked out of the room, door slamming shut behind you.

Angry tears were brimming in your eyes, making it hard to see where you were going and causing the pulsing behind your forehead to grow stronger by the second. The headache you were sporting wasn´t new. It wasn´t cause by your anger or by the yelling, not it had been persistent ever since you walked out of work just the day before. The situation not making it better in the slightest.

Said headache also being one of the reasons why you had walked out on him in the first place.

You were understanding for everything concerning Lando´s career. The constant travels, the media circus and it´s focus on you and everything you did, said or posted, watching fangirls swoon over him online and trackside or the regular allnighter you pulled just to see his face on a 30 minute videocall before you fell asleep or had to go to work.

All of it you understood. Did it make you jealous from time to time to watch him smile for the camera while you had to sit at home? You´d be lying if you said not but you loved him, and you loved watching him doing what he loved. But sometimes you wished you were more present in his life.

Sometimes, in moments like now where you felt awful to begin with you wished he had the time and foresight to see what you needed. Well he did have the time, was known to take it for Cisca and Adam every time his parents came to watch him race however you apparently were a different case.

It ate at you, at your self-esteem and value to the one you´d lay your life down for and frankly in this moment, you weren´t sure if you should have said yes to the ring around your finger just a few weeks back. Was this how you wanted the rest of your life to go?

Overlooked and underappreciated? Because that's what it felt like to you; being ignored and taken for granted at times.

With a soft sniffle you tried and failed to keep in, you stepped into the elevator at the end of the hallway, pressed the button with the big 4, the irony did not escape you, and leaned against the wall as the door closed with a ding and hummed to life while going down.

The door opened and you rushed out just to frantically knock at the one room you knew would let you in in a heart beat.

Cisca was already in her sleepwear when she opened a little stunned but immediatly opening her arms for you to fall into.

The floodgates opened and every tear you head managed to hold at bay started rolling down your face uncontrollably.

“Oh, darling whats wrong?” she whispered into your ear and you choked on your own words trying to get something coherent out of your mouth.

Lando´s mother had been your rock since day one when you still weren´t sure how to act with the publics eye on you and ever since then she was the one you turned to when you needed some motherly attention.

She pulled you inside, sat you down on the couch and simply held you until you had calmed down enough for your breathing to slow and your shoulders to relax under the soft touch of her hand on the back of your head.

“That´s good, just breath my sweet girl. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Though her words were reassuring, she wasn´t sure what to make of the situation herself.

Earlier when she had seen you at the paddock you seemed to be doing alright. A little more subdued then she was used to from you but you were standing and smiling at crew and fans with a softness Cisca had never seen in any of the girlfriends her son had brought home and introduced to the wild world that was F1. It was like you were made to fit right in.

Honest, kind and bright without taking shit from anyone. Thats how she knew you and thats how she wanted you to stay. Whatever was making you this shaky and slightly sick version of yourself, she wanted it to be gone.

Your breath fanned gently over the skin of her neck where you were hiding, enough to feel you fall asleep on her. Cisca laid your head down in her lap, the bathroom door opening as her husband stepped out. Equally as ready for bed as Cisca was and equally as confused when he saw your passed out form laying on their hotelroom couch.

The tear track still very visible and slowly starting to dry.

“Can you give me my phone?” Cisca hummed and pointed to her phone on the nightstand.

Adam nodded and grabbed the device.

“You think Lando knows something?”

“You mean why she came to us instead of him? I have a hunch that he does.”

And she was proven right.

Lando had texted him just 10 minutes ago when she was still busy trying to shush your weeping. The pained frown never leaving your face as you breathed on her lap.

Please tell me she´s with you mum? - Lando

She´s here, don´t worry – Cisca

But can you please enlighten me why your fiance came crying to our room? - Cisca

I was being stupid – Lando

That i can see baby – Cisca

Thanks mum – Lando

I´m sorry baby but when your usually always smiling love practically fled to cry, one tends to wonder – Cisca

I may have let stress get to me. She hasn´t been feeling well and i didn´t notice... - Lando

Oh lando – Cisca

I know! - Lando

She said she won´t be coming tomorrow and i can´t even fault her for it. This time i was the muppet – Lando

I’m sure its nothing you can´t fix – Cisca

Can I come get her? – Lando

Let her sleep. I’ll see what I can do for you tomorrow morning – Cisca

Thanks mum – Lando

Go sleep. – Cisca

--------

Left behind and now pacing tracks into the floorboards, Lando stared down at his phone. He was relieved that you weere safe and not aimlessly wandering around the hotel grounds at night but the feeling was only minor compared to the guilt he was carrying with him at the moment.

The things you had thrown at him in your anger weren’t baseless, he knew that and he also knew that you could have been much firmer in your way of arguing if you had wanted too. That fact that you hadn’t was just another testimony to the fact that you weren’t feeling well enough to maintain your point and that you were crumbling on the inside.

Ever since he had known you when you were barely 15 years old while he was a teenager himself, he had always known you to be a firm believer in fighting for your beliefs in a rational, calm, yet fierce way. Sure you could scream and yell to the point someone who didn’t know you as well as he did would back up in fear but that was rare. And the fact that you so easily broke told him more about himself then about you.

“I smile, I understand and I see you living for racing and I love that. Watching you race even if you finish P10 or lower, I still love it because that’s part of what makes you you! But today I needed you to see me too! I travel whenever I can, barely catch a breath between work, flights, races and going back to work and miss sleep to see your face at ungodly hours but I want to do it! For you, because I fucking love you, you absolute idiot. And then you can’t even give me 30 seconds to hug me? That’s all I needed. 30 seconds when I was right there. Right next to your parents…” Your words were still ringing in his ears.

You were right, of course you were. He took the time for his mum and dad so why not for you. When it was so evident that you weren’t at 100%. That for once you needed him to look at you and see you. Really see you. Because now that he thought of it, the signs were all there.

All the subtle clues he should be able to puck up just by glancing at you were there, were almost screaming at him. And he chose to not see it, not in that moment.

Lando had told his mum that he understood why you didn’t want to come see him tomorrow. That wasn’t a lie. But it still hurt.

Hurt to think he was the reason you didn’t want to see him and yet he had no right to demand you being there after failing to uphold his part of what he had promised you when he asked you to be his wife even if you had not even set a date yet.

How could he have fucked up so bad…

---------

The next morning you woke up feeling better and worse.

Your head wasn’t pounding anymore but your eyes were puffy, red and burning from crying yourself to sleep the night before.

Mortification settled in your bones when you remembered crashing your future parents in laws night just like that and you sat up so quickly you felt a bit dizzy.

The room was empty. Cisca and Adam having left for breakfast as the sticky note left on your phone told you along with a set of fresh clothes Lando must have brought down for you before he left.

Oh fuck.

Had you really told him not to search for you? That you weren’t going to come? And he just took it? Believed you like a kicked golden retriever?

What an idiot. You and him.

You for ever believing you could stay away from any track Lando was driving on and him for believing you in your frustration and anger.

A perfect match you were.

I’m sorry, love. You were right, I haven’t seen it. Haven’t tried to see it which was my fault. You sacrifice so much for me and I took it for granted. I understand why you don’t want to be here today. To be honest, I’d rather not be here either. Not without you... – Lando

Flopping face first back into the couch pillow you barely could hold back the scream of frustration building in your throat.

“I am stupid.” You muttered into the silence of the room before moving of the couch.

You hurriedly got dressed, went back to your room to get ready, maybe take some Ibuprofen and get your ass to the Circuit.

The fan posts about Lando arriving alone on Instagram and tiktok weren’t lost on you. They were theorizing like crazy, throwing the words breakup and fighting around like confetti and made your stomach roll.

Yes you were fighting but what couple doesn’t at times?

The thought of breakup now seemed utterly ridiculous and when the car stopped, you almost flew out of the door.

Armed with your paddock pass you waved politely back at some fans who smiled at you, took a selfie here and there with some particularly dedicated ones and marched straight into McLarens hospitality unit.

Oscar, surprised at seeing your face, stopped in his track. Lando must have told him.

“Y/n? You came!”

“Of course! Where-“

“Drivers lounge.”

The Australian nodded back to where he just came from and you give him a thankful sidehug.

“Get him back on track woman.”

“Will do!”

With your heart pounding in your ears you came to a halt in front of the drivers lounge. While you had made valid points yesterday, you knew that your words were fueled by hurt and pain and that in itself had fired you up more then when you would have felt alright.

You were sensitive, reacted harshly instead of talking like a civilized person and had thrown things at him he had no idea were even an issue. That was on you.

That was something that you could have spoken about before it came to a fight that could have been prevented if handled accordingly.

Gently you knocked, signaling that someone was about to come in. Lando didn’t answer. He was sprawled out on the papaya colored couch, back leaning against the rest, man spreading like there was no tomorrow and his head laid back with his eyes shut. Even like that you could see the frown etched into his features. A muffled grumbled left him at the sound of the door opening and closing again with being spoken too.

Lando knew it couldn’t have been Oscar and besides drivers and their family nobody was supposed to enter the drivers lounge uninvited. The fact that someone had entered left him suspicious enough to look up enough to be able to squint against the blinding overhead lights of the lounge.

At first nothing happened, his brain not able to catch up with the fact that it was you leaning against the door, hands clasped together in front of your midsection and fingers nervously fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. Y

“Hi…” you whispered, hesitating to speak louder in fear of disturbing the peace that was settled over the room save for the humming AC.

When it fibally clicked that he was in fact not imaginibg thibgs or seeibg ghosts and that you were actually standing in the same room with him after telling him you wouldn’t be there today, he almost fell over as he jumped to his feet.

He was still dressed in his orange polo shirt and simple black jeans, curl hair sitting messily and slightly longer just the way you liked it on his head.

“Wait huh? Love what– but you said and–“ The McLaren driver took a deep breath at seeing the little smile tugging on your lips as he fumbled with what to say before eventually rushing forward.

You found yourself in his tight embrace just seconds later, his warm breath fanning over your ear and making your dangling earring brush against the skin there.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He pulled away just enough so his hands could frame your face, gently forcing you to look at him directly. Not that you were trying to escape it.

“I am so sorry, my love. For not seeing that you weren’t okay, or not taking the time to-“

“No, I’m sorry. You couldn’t have known because I didn’t say.”

“But I should have seen it. Mum saw it for fucks sake!”

“Your mom stood next to me for nearly 2 hours, Lando. You haven’t seen me all week. How would you have known?” Tilted head and another apology on your lips your fingers brushed through the curls on the base of his neck. Hands thrown around his shoulders.

“Still. I would have understood if you–“

“Stayed at the hotel? Do you really think I’d do that? That I could bring it overmyself?”

“You have good reason not to.”

“And an ever better one to do so.”

Lando leaned his forehead against your own and your eyes fluttered shut at the calming proximity. His scent tickling your nose pleasantly.

He couldn’t help but lean in and press a series of kisses to your face. Your cheek, nose, forehead and last your lips. A touch so soft and hesitant like he was scared he’d scare you away again that It left your heart aching.

“I think–“ you began and paused to think. “– that we both have handled things wrong. That we definitely need to work on time and stress management—”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“—and that I should be clearer with what I’m feeling when you aren’t there to hold me. Because this could have been avoided if I had just told you about my headache and being exhausted.”

Your eyes flew over his face, taking in every detail like you could possibly ever forget it.

Lando nodded.

“I’m still sorry, my love.”

“Yeah, me too baby.”

You let your arms fall down to his side just to wrap them around his back.

“And now please just hold me. My week was horrible and I missed you…”

Never in his life had he complied that quick to a request.

[sapphirelightningbug]

I cut my finger on a chair at work so I had a thought:

Clark holding reader's hand self noticing it's covered with scratches where they pick at their nails, paper-cuts, miscellaneous scrapes etc and having a mini panic attack because "oh my god why can they get injured so easily how fragile are humans I'm gonna have to wrap them in bubble wrap oh god-" and reader is just "??? what's with the worried face"

Bubble-Wrapped Home [Clark Kent x Reader]

DC Masterlist | Request Rules

Thank you for requesting again!!! You always have adorable ideas! :)

Word Count: 1k (short and sweet)

Content Warnings: making out, mentions of small hand injuries

Comment if you'd like to be tagged in future works!

Taglist in the comments!

Rain patters against the window in the little apartment on the east side of Metropolis. Clark's chest rose and fell as he took in breaths, and you lay upon him, listening to his heart beat. The TV sounded behind you as you rubbed your face against Clark's fitted white linen shirt. A black mirror episode you both had already seen played on the television as you both talked over it. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the gloomy natural light seeping in through the window.

Clark was big beneath you, solid and warm. He played with your hair, strands threading between the digits of his fingers. You leaned your head up to look at him, cheek rubbing against the smooth fabric of his shirt. He looked down at you, a smirk coming to his face. You leaned up and connected your lips. He gripped your waist and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned as his tongue fought yours, his inevitably winning before he closed his mouth again and slipped your lips between his. He leaned back, pressing his head into a decorative throw pillow. It had a cheesy quote embroidered on it, you'd bought it from a HomeGoods a few months back, when you started dating Clark.

Since you and Clark started dating, you'd half moved in, you'd usually work with him late at the Planet, and he didn't want you walking home so late, so he insisted you stay at his, it was like that most nights. The only time you'd go back to your apartment was the weekends, but often you'd still want to see Clark on the days you had off, so you'd end up here anyway.

Clark was a good boyfriend, tentative, sweet, and he made you feel good. His hands moved back to your hair, curling up in it. He ran his fingers through it, brushing your hair and then rubbing your back with soft, delicate strokes that made you preen into his touch. You wondered if Clark would ever ask you to move in officially, or if it would be something that happens gradually over time, like one day you'd realize almost all of your stuff had made their way over here, and you said I guess this is home now. You knew the truth, though, it didn't matter where your stuff was; you just wanted to be here with him; he was your home.

"Clark?" You looked up at him. He was staring down at your soft eyes, trailing over your face. "Yes, sweetheart?" His hand stopped moving at the small of your back. "When I move in, how do you think that will happen?" You asked, and he took in a breath and pursed his lips, attempting to figure out how to word this. "You live here with me most of the time, and I like that a lot. You know I love you, and I have to admit I would love it if you lived here with me permanently. I don't want to push you." his voice is genuine and sincere, and it makes you smile.

"What if I also want to be here with you all the time?" "Then we would have to talk about some things," you rolled your lips and looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. "You know I'm Superman, and being a hero is dangerous and untimely. I want you to understand that I will sometimes miss things or show up at home all bloody and messed up in the middle of the night." "Yeah, and I'll be there to patch you up," You assured him, and he grinned. "Of course you will be, I don't know why I thought otherwise," He pulled your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. "My perfect girl." A grin bloomed on your face, and you shifted in his lap. "So," he smiled cheekily, "Will you move in with me?" "Definitely," you grinned and snuggled back into him. He continued to play with your hands, shifting your fingers around and drawing lines all over your palm. He looked closer at them and gasped. Noticing the little scars and sore spots from bitten-off hangnails and chewed cuticles. A few papercuts littered her hands, too, and he panicked.

"Are you okay?" He sounded worried, and you looked at him to see what was wrong. "Yeah, I'm great, so happy, baby." You smiled and noticed how he was staring anxiously at your hands. "You have all these little papercuts and raw spots," he worried over your digits. He brought them as close to his eyes as possible, as if he couldn't see them unless they were mere centimeters away. "It's just hangnails, I'm okay, no need to be worried," he was apprehensive, still a little nervous. You pulled your hands away a little bit.

"You humans are so delicate, you get hurt so easily," he pressed kisses over her apparently injured fingers. Making sure to get every angle of each one with his thick, lush lips. "I can get bubble wrap? Would that work?" You giggled as he rambled.

"Baby," Your hands slipped out of his, and he stumbled, "Baby." You cupped his cheeks, and he calmed down. "I am perfectly fine, I'm safe, and while I really truly appreciate your care, you do not have to worry about my papercuts." His puppy dog eyes trailed over your face, and you nodded reassuringly. "I'm okay."

"I just don't like to see you hurt," he said quietly, almost bashfully.

"I know and I love that," you pressed small pecks at his lips. "But I'm okay, wonderful even. Everything is perfect, all I need in the world is right here in front of me." He grinned and sat up and pulled you to him. You wrapped your legs and fuzzy sock-clad feet around his back. He kissed your head and pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I have my whole world in front of me. I love you too," And that was enough.

[lastdefenseunit]

"I'm... Okay. I think in the first time since this began... I feel i can think more clearly again. In some way i still have my brother in my life, just... Not in the way i had before." It looks like he finally understood that part, he didn't get it the other times he was told to not look at it as Monokuma not being in their lives, the concept were completely alien to him at that point but he's trying to understand it now. "I need... Your help in learning patience. It can most likely help me moving forward."

"I want to... Get my life together. I almost pushed him to doing something he couldn't come back from that would have ruined both of our lives. Everything is okay between me and my brother but... My life is still a mess."

Lucky smiled slightly and soon walked away to leave them alone.

----

"People are relentless... Even if it's an understandable anger... To keep it so long isn't healthy for themselves either. I can at least give it a try."

*A few days have passed since Monokuma's last visit to Earth. Kiko got a message from Mikado asking to meet up and talk about a group of teens that need jobs. Kiko arrives on Earth near MOnokuma's manor and spots Mikado along with Monokuma, MonoFizz, and a woman with a child by her side.*

"Hello, Mikado. Hello Monokuma. It's been a while. And who is the lady and child with you?" @for-ilirhia

"Hello, i'm Kamyuhn. And this is my mother Eva. Or well... She took me in after my parents died in the warn we're from a planet called Futurum. I was told i could come here and get her fixed." She seems to be too polite for a kid her age.

"It's been awhile Kiko. Ah yes, we have met a curious group of teens with no actual background so to speak. These two are also a part of that group... In a sense."

[grotesquevi]

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ a sudden desire, especially one that is unexplained.

cw    #    eighteenpluzz+ as it contains smut at some point i'm a slut i'm sorry, 2XKO!vi + sub!vi, she's a hot mechanic, this is some sort of strangers-to-connected-lovers?, fingering (wash your hands before and enjoy fiction), oral sex, as usual expect my classic filth since i have zero filters it seems lmao, dirty talk, spit, porn with slight plot? i'm a simple girl sometimes. wc: 5.6k, masterlists.

mechanic!vi who loves the sound of the rain late at night, when no one's around to piss her off in the shop and she gets to work on a car that's four times her age in pure silence, only interrupted by the sudden sound of metal every once in a while. she likes to fuck up her sleeping schedules until three or four in the morning until her eyes close on their own, and it's a need more than want, when biology begs for a little mercy and she has to drag herself back to bed.

mechanic!vi who leaves the door half open cause she likes to feel the wind that sweeps in every once in a while inside the shop, the reminder of a city that's asleep. there's tranquility even in the chaos that surrounds her, and covered in grease and oil like a second skin, she cannot be more pleased even when she struggles with the engine she's working on and has to do extra-effort in understanding it for the first time, finally face-to-face with a speed six which translates to a literal relic.

it would be vi's perfect type of night before you came in like thunder breaking down the sky. sudden, lights up the entire place and it makes her precision falter for a moment, prevent any further annoyance as she can't seem to go past the flywheel and it's causing her to get cranky already — instead, she turns to look at the soaked stranger who stands awkwardly at the door, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a dirty rag before her voice sounds intimidating as ever.

"we're closed, come back tomorrow."

mechanic!vi who thinks you're a thief at first, cause who else would be roaming in the streets of zaun so late at night? a weird surprise when she stumbles upon a piltie soaked to the bone, rambling when you try to explain how your luxury sedan died in the middle of the road with smoke coming out of the hood and the thunderstorm making everything more complicated.

"listen, sweetheart…"

"i'll pay you double" her brows furrow at the desperation and vi gets it for a moment, it's what? three in the morning? there's not any mechanic around that late at night, much less for someone who reeks money as a piltovian that's far from home. "please."

mechanic!vi who has no heart to tell you to go. maybe it's her need to help people, or the fact that even under the lackluster streets of her side of the town, she still finds you strangely captivating. soaked by the rain outside, your clothes stick to your figure, and suddenly she's making up excuses in her mind: what's better anyway? help the pretty girl or get a migraine with speed six?

with a sigh, vi surrenders easily — "ah fine. go on rich girl. take me to your expensive car."

so she walks down the rain with you in a thin white tank top that's not enough to cover her physique when the water gives her the same treatment it gave you to, sticking to her body as she follows you in silence vi can see you're shaking in the cold as you guide her down the street, only so she can see the car contaminating the air still as black smoke comes out of the hood.

it's stupid to pretend she's searching for the problem when she already knows your radiator's fried, leaking the coolant that makes it keep it's normal temperature. it needs a replacement, and it's too late for all the hard work required, a piece too crucial and expensive to get out of nowhere: can she tell you that with the face you give her barely seeing something illuminated by her lantern? no. she can't say shit cause you're in an awful position already and she likes to think she has some decency left, touch.

who's going to help you but violet vanderson?

"the radiator's dead," vi explains without giving further detail, shouting at this point since the rain's pouring too hard against the metal of the car, "we need to take it inside the shop- i need your help."

mechanic!vi who cannot help but stare at your ass while pushing the car from the back. you're making hell of an effort in trying to drive while also using your force to help somehow, and violet has nothing to whine about when you give her the perfect view to stare at as you're bending to the waist so you can reach the wheel easier, hand in the opened door, the inside's of the car get immediately soaked much like your jeans already wet and doubling their weight — got the mechanic shamelessly looking cause how will you realize? under all the mist that's now settling, how will you notice she's eyeing you since she saw how your shirt was riding up in your stomach? impossible.

mechanic!vi who curses under the lights of the workshop now that she gets to see you better than she did before, pay more attention to your features and know who the fuck she's talking to. your hair sticks to your face as you try to wipe the excess water from your hair, but it does nothing when you're drenched; she knew you were pretty from before but now? the white lights do no good in showing her your well-composed chaos, the way everything glues to the important places of your body.

you look so much like trouble it's like a premonition of hell, a weird silence that settles when you notice her too, the vibrant hair, the two balls of metal pierced on each side of her lower lip that only gives her a sharper look, inviting at the same time. stitched in her top, she got a tag with her name on it that you have to read at least twice to get it wrapped around your head.

vi.

"i can have it for tomorrow afternoon, i need some parts that i'll be able to get in the morning." if she didn't knew the correct people? you'd be in so much trouble, even in a piltie workshop — damned by the insane amount of money they'll be charging you. "you can come back tomorrow."

mechanic!vi who can feel the tension in the air when saying it cause it's clear you're not from around, and where would you stay at three in the morning? she does know a few places you can crash in, some nasty rooms a couple of blocks away that will charge you triple just for the look on your face, that watch in your wrist that screams you're from the other side of the town; so vi doesn't think about it for too long, i mean, not when you're paying double, not when you look that nice.

"let me guess," she smiles, already knowing what's troubling you. "you little troublemaker have nowhere to go tonight."

well fucking yikes.

why is she always getting in trouble so easily?

mechanic!vi who's a sucker for girls and it shows, cause, why would she take a car at three in the morning if it's not from a pretty girl in trouble? why would she get soaking wet and risk getting a flu if not because the most beautiful girl that has ever come to the shop needs her help? — why would she offer you to take a damn shower there in the bathroom of her office if it wasn't because of shit-- you're nice to look at?

"are you sure? i don't want to impose too much" you say already ashamed, she has done so much you're kind of embarrassed already of having to rely so much on a person you just happen to know. "taking the car at such a late hour is something that would not happen normally and i'm already grateful for it, vi."

"you're paying me double, peach" she states with simplicity, as if her mind doesn't have any problem understanding the fact that you called her by the name with a tone that entirely blew her brain off. "v.i.p clients get the special treatment here."

mechanic!vi who lets her fingers loiter against your skin when lending you dry clothes cause that's also in the v.i.p package, isn't it? let you borrow her belongings like it isn't the most strange occasion she's ever been involved in, a loose short you can wear beneath so you won't die of the massive cold you're definitely getting tomorrow, a hoodie to keep you warm on a cold night. shit. shit. shit. shit.

mechanic!vi who cannot stop thinking about you even when she has to phone claggor for backup, making him promise he'll move enough strings to get her a fine radiator on her door tomorrow morning.

"why so much effort huh?" he asks on the other side of the line, still half deep in his sleep, "does the car have a nice owner attached to the keys?"

"fuck off and get me the piece."

it's embarrassing to say it as he's totally right in every single word. would she do the same for a dude appearing out of nowhere? probably not (even though she would since she has a golden heart and it doesn't matter how much vi tries to deny it), probably yes, but it's clear here she's biased by the inevitable, biased when she can see your nipples straining hard and cold under your shirt, how your hair sticks to the sides of your face, against your chest — it's lame when she pays too much attention on the way you breathe, how your pulse point jumps at plain sight, skin that glistens with the rain who clings to your skin and makes everything so hot all of sudden-

mechanic!vi who has to distract herself, desperately needs some time to cool off just like a radiator would, to the point she forces herself to start working in your car so when you get out of the shower (in her fucking clothes and smelling like she does) the horny mechanic has enough temple to look you in the eye and not fucking roam from your very feet to the the tip of your head: too much exposed skin, too many of her possessions in your power to have her thinking somehow a glimpse of rational thought.

a stranger. she needs to remind herself, you're a very nice stranger.

"that shower was something else," your praise doesn't go unnoticed as vi's cheeks acquire the most subtle shade of pink, you're oblivious it seems to everything you've already been doing to her as you stare at the spread pieces that now laid on the ground and must belong to your car. "can i help you out with anything?"

"you do remember you're paying me to do this, right?" she shakes her head for a second, trying to understand why a piltie would get her hands dirty when it was designed to be a zaunite's job. "fine then. don't give me that look, pass me the alligator wrench over there."

"huh?"

"the one that looks like it got some kind of scissor attached to it, sweetheart. keep up."

mechanic!vi who surprisingly works good with you. explains to you the function of the parts she's working on and thinks, for a moment, you'd be a great trainee as you seem to be a good listener, learning fast, you even remember the names she randomly tosses in hopes to see your nose scrunching while thinking what-the-fuck she's talking about. cute.

mechanic!vi who stares at your thighs when you take off the hoodie she gave you, a bit more sweaty now that you've been warming up with all the hard work she put you up to, who stops to look almost for too long in the way her shirt drapes against your shoulder cause the fabric's old and used now, a garment she uses to sleep at her wrecked state but in you, gives the most breathtaking sight, needs to remember and backup cause you're a client and she's not in a lesbian bar.

who is this damn piltie who shows up at three in the morning and makes her mouth water as easily as breathing? who is this damn stranger who got her feeling so attracted to? must have a scientific explanation.

mechanic!vi who tries to distract herself working until late with you — the initial problem. get so tired she won't even think about dumb shit when going to bed, something hard to do when you seem invested in flirting, in dragging her to this haze of confusion as you're tossing words so smoothly she would consider it a talent.

"you're sure this is okay with you?" you ask when she's taking you to her place in the back, the very same place that's off-limits even for her sister but somehow you managed to get into with no problem—. "this is your last chance to change your mind and kick me out to the streets. i'll do my best to survive and pay what i owe you tomorrow."

"your back won't be very happy with me tomorrow morning," she tries to explain, some lame excuse to make you feel better since you're starting to get under her skin — "it's okay piltie, the couch's not a big deal."

"hm-- dunno m'aam. you've been saving me the entire night already so i wouldn't bet on it."

mechanic!vi who refrains from cleaning that black stain of grease on your cheek that's left from working in the car, it would be intimate- awkward. she gives you at least a couple of thick blankets and a comfortable pillow to hug — does a nice job letting you know where the kitchen is in case you need water or anything: friendly, approachable, kind, no other intentions laying low, not at first sight anyway.

that's how it would be if she were a professional. however she listens to too much weezer lately to be even considered intelligent, somehow destined to fuck it up at some point.

she's kind enough to help you out with the cushions, tossing them aside before spreading the warm blankets on top of the leather in an improvised bed. with the pillow she brought from her bed it seems more inviting than expected, even when the rain pours down the windows and the cold seems to get inside by the creeks of the house, there's something nice even attached to it.

"anything else i can get for you?"

"no-" you say now as you curl under the blankets, relishing the heat with a smile on your face that's far from awkward. vi should be giving you more space, privacy but she cannot move from where she stands as you add— "you know, most of the mechanics i know wouldn't doubt a second to squeeze every single golden hex i got in my power so thank you."

mechanic!vi who lives by a personal set of rules, a code that dictates the way she acts around people — treat them fairly, be fucking honest with prices and not shit on other's people's life. it was rare in that part of the city however she takes pride in it, on you picking up on her way of acting too. damn, she likes you more than she probably should, especially considering she just met you and she's already trapped in that tangled web you patiently knit around her, similar to a silent snow storm that left her inside the house for days.

"nite rich girl," it's not that she's being rude, quite the contrary she needs to diffuse the sudden tension that settled between you and her, it strips her away from her usual bravado. she's polite yes, knows about manners, knows that after a rough day you must be tired after so much effort, that you need to rest alone. that's why she forces herself to give you that, rest.

maybe she's just desperate to get away from you.

mechanic!vi who cannot sleep the rest of the night, affected by that rush of affection that formed in her chest at the sight of you tucked in her uncomfortable couch, eyes heavy with exhaustion, there in her space; it's inevitable when it sends a shiver down her spine. you belong there, as strange as it is.

she dares to imagine how she'd invite you under the sheets of her much more comfortable bed, drag you closer to her only to feel that warmth radiating from your body, hide from a cold night in the crooks who would fit perfectly against her own, curves, planes, meat and pulse. vi tosses and turns, too hot under the blankets for the first ten minutes, shivering cold the next ten more.

reign it in. fucking behave.

mechanic!vi who walks barefoot in the dark, loving the feeling of the cold floor beneath her feet. she does not need to see where she's going as she gets to the kitchen, not noticing you're there at first until you make an unexpected noise that makes her flinch in scare, she thought for a moment you'd be already in your third dream or something when she notices you sipping on your glass of water.

it's nearly five in the morning.

"you can just act like a ghost like that- what the fuck?" it makes you chuckle, comfortably seated on the kitchen counter as you notice her figure in the dark — "what are you doing up, weirdo? thought you were going to be snoring or something."

"can't sleep."

it makes vi's poor brain work too much for the late hour that it is. at this point, there are only three or two hours left before dawn, and suddenly she wishes the night would last forever, that the moon would manage to keep its dark mantle in the sky for more hours before she's forced to get up again. can't sleep. you can't sleep like it happens with her, and she curses herself cause vi shouldn't be reading too much between the lines, forcing a connection you may not feel.

"is the sofa too uncomfortable?"

"no" you reply, and she can see you shaking your head profusely even in the dark. "the sofa's perfect- it's been a long day."

she gets it, of course she does, she's overly aware of you even in the lack of light in the kitchen, the aching in her chest vi's not able to name yet — "not every day your radiator dies in the middle of zaun huh?"

"not really no," you admit as she's sitting next to you, taking a long sip from her glass of water as a way of drowning her own thoughts. what's she fucking doing? she didn't expect your words after that, the way you kept your body language closed to yourself when admitting something so intense in a sudden blurt. "it's almost like destiny knew you were going to be in the shop-- like fate already decided you would help me out without any possibility of saying no."

there you go. you said it.

mechanic!vi who feels the shift in the air in mere seconds, liquid fire that's injected into her veins as her lips part slightly, almost as an invitation when her body leans slightly closer to yours, as the words leave her lips in a melody ready to take over your brain.

"so you feel that too?" she asks curiously as ever, "we just met, however, it's like i knew you from before."

"maybe we were lovers in a past life," you try to ease out the tension, however it makes nothing when her knee brushes against your thigh in almost an innocent touch, as if she could not feel the softness of your skin against her own like that — "we've met before and our bones recognize each other, our flesh greets like old friends would do."

"yeah, piltie? you really believe in that romantic stuff?" she cannot help but be cocky for a moment, her brow arching in superiority. "you think we are connected somehow? kinda thought you rich people were more rational about things with so much knowledge lying around."

"how would you explain it then?"

mechanic!vi who's already absent in her thoughts, in the way you lick your lips like an invitation she can see perfectly well, how your eyes dart to the piercings on her mouth, traveling from one metal ball to the other. even in the dark, her eyes seem to grow accustomed to the shadow, now discerning much more than before.

"i don’t know what it is. there’s no rational explanation to me other than the need to have you near."

mechanic!vi who takes her time in kissing you, at least ten minutes to fully make out with you. her tongue tangles with yours and it becomes sloppy after a while, full of saliva, teeth and a palpable need you can taste. as if your mouth already knows its way around — makes the sensation indescribable, familiar yet new and addictive, something that's missing and you don't notice you lack of until you experience it first hand.

vi kisses you care, a softness she forgets about when she's biting your lower lip, sucking it so it's swollen, sensitive as a plan to have you moaning as the metal of her lips crashes against your mouth.

"tell me that i'm just fixing your car," she begs as the palm of her hand settles flat on your chest, right over your collarbones and against your pulse point it runs wild under her touch. "tell me that we just know each other. that it's not normal and we were strangers hours ago, unaware of our existence."

you don't answer to her prayers, instead you lean to kiss her again and it's one of the most erotic things she's ever experienced when you're the one that's cornering her against the counter, how your figure manages to keep her seated as your hands grip her thighs and squeeze the flesh that burns with unseen marks you leave behind.

"don't go to sleep yet" you simply say against her lips, nothing more than a plea that makes the kitchen feel too small for vi's liking — "come back to the sofa with me."

mechanic!vi who lets you drag her back to the living room, dazed already as she holds a shameful moan in, embarrassed by how aroused she is, how you turned her on so effortlessly between kisses. vi knows it's a lost battle when she stares at your eyes to be a witness of the darkness consuming the edges, now under the weak light of the lamp close to the sofa she's trapped in a sea of desire that's able to steal her rational part.

it makes vi shiver as your lips trail the nicest kisses along her jaw, follow an invisible and already designated path down to her neck, relishing her throat. overwrought nerve endings that prevent her from even trying to gain some of the control you claim as yours, a strangled sound that escapes from her chest in a mix between a moan, a whimper and pure, unadulterated need.

"dare to say you're not connected to me," you reply, the words repeat on her head to the point vi's fingers clench around your hips, yanking you closer to her — "that you haven't been eyeing me this entire time, that you don't want me like this."

mechanic!vi who sits on the sofa in her slutty sports bra and now allows, like a fucking treat, to look at you like she wanted to do all that time ago. hand resting against the side of your body at first, she gathers the courage to let her fingers dip inside the fabric of her shirt and hell, did you purposefully forget about the shorts she gave you? are you wearing just panties because you know somehow? about her weakness?

between her legs, you get goosebumps when her hand kneads your breast with an ease that makes you gasp. there's so much silence around even when the rain keeps crushing against the window, the thunder you can hear at the distance in the rage of nature.

she's about to reach your underwear until you're dropping to your knees. unexpectedly, vi's mouth goes dry at the sight, the torment she's put under the most simple whisper of a touch. you don't ask for permission when your lips leave wet kisses on her stomach, following the happy trail from her belly down to her underwear as you mark her down using your teeth, never stopping until there's red on her stomach, purple forming around her sensitive skin.

mechanic!vi who's moans fill the air erratic and loud, soaked already cause it's crazy but shit-- you understand what she needs without having to say it out loud, you know her body without a second thought even if it's something new. her head throws back and it's an attack when your fingers find their way to her underwear, clean boxer she swore she had for a second until it's reduced to a mess.

fuck, did she just fucking sob?

your hand's cold between her legs. when you dare to tease her with something as simple as your digits to see how wet she is, a boost of ego as you haven't even touched her properly yet vi's a sucker already for a few kisses on her kitchen counter, a simple touch now that she admitted the inevitable.

vi doesn't care if it's lame anymore, her body reactions to you are sincere, explosive like a volcano under declared activity and she forgets about shame when her hips roll against your digits in a lazy back and forth — she's tired now after working all day, muscles aching and already sore after a whole day of efforts, lazy, but with enough endeavor on her veins to have her moaning, enough to make you take care of her aching needs and help her rub her clothed folds against your hand better, arousal already visible and tentative having it so close.

mechanic!vi who's body is consumed by onslaught pleasure as you finally decide to take her underwear away, a simple pat on the hip to have her helping you remove them for a second, hips raising in the air as you pull them away from her legs, that welcome sound she makes as your touch becomes direct, delirious, downright obscene.

"oh fuck that's so hot," vi's chest heaved with each ragged breathe, you're soaking up your fingers with saliva before sinking them in the heath of her cunt, warm, a whole different temperature it's greedy, vi barely finds the words to express how much she's loving it, random praising that you overhear tossed to the air—. "what the fucking hell, piltie-"

the pink hair's in her cunt’s now slick with her arousal and the unnecessary saliva thats there to please you. sinful when vi's back arches off from the leather sofa, desperate to grind against your fingers, draw them deeper and let them sink in until she can feel your knuckles, downright shake as you curl them to rub on her walls.

is it the smell that drags you in? the sound of her fuckhole stretched and filled like she says — deranged, she loves to feel? it's filthy when vi's leaking against the blankets she gave you, the plush feeling against her ass, your lips leaving a fucking trace of kisses in her inner thigh as you spread her legs further apart.

space, let her make fucking space.

mechanic!vi who's a victim of your lust-drunk eyes, of every flick, every suck and bite that comes with your tongue as a present. you eat her like it's holy terrain and you're a catholic who's sent to fight over with sword and brute force, drag the flat of your wet muscle against her labia, take your time in sucking, in knowing her taste, the thickness of her arousal coating your lips as if it was lipgloss, her fluids being part of your system.

your fingers work in pair along your mouth and it's overwhelming; how you never seemed to get tired even when the sweat's already dampening vi's skin, how you already got her lost in the molten heat as you're drooling against her damn clit, soothing licks that only seem to doom her way back to hell, a tattoo on her ribs with your initials that burns from the insides.

"please-" she tries to be coherent for a second, get your attention for a moment as the words die on her tongue.

"please what?" you ask curiously, and it's even worse when she can see the physical traces left of her in your cheeks as you look up to meet her gaze, smeared across your lips, all over your mouth. "c'mon keep begging, what do you need from me?"

mechanic!vi who slides her fingers between yours unable to get a decent answer out — soaked, her digits easily get wet enough to slide and fuck herself along your hand, combined fingers that had vi gasping for a moment. the oxygen from her lungs is stolen at your kiss, filthy, she tastes her own arousal more than your saliva when you're pushing the same skilled tongue that circled around her g-spot now against her buccal cavity.

warm, it seals your downfall when you're the one who's talking, who must be forbidden from ever saying something else as you state, similar to a vampire in plain feeding, what faintly crosses your mind — "wanna know how you taste?"

fuck yes. let her experience the entirety of a little death, let her forget about the hour and all the stress on her shoulders as she follows your fingers on each thrust, knuckles deep your hand seems to mold to hers perfectly, guiding her into indulge her own oblivion as she opens her mouth wide open: pliant, ready to always comply and never say no.

the spit gathers on your mouth before it drips perfectly between her parted lips — filthy white, it's a mix that's all her and the saliva you cannot help to gather in your mouth at such a delicious taste. it's a lot, and vi swallows as she trembles against your fingers, her hand, your mix and her own.

mechanic!vi who cums loud. gush sticking her hand against your own as she forces you to keep fucking her, stroking her inner walls and letting her muscles grip you tightly. her hips rock against the sofa and she kisses you not to muffle her moans, but because she wants to taste herself in you, the remains of her in you. sloppy, too much saliva and teeth, you bite the piercings of her lips and enjoy that whimper that comes out from her mouth at the pain, the taste of the metal as she shakes trapped against your body.

mechanic!vi who's weak under your kisses, your care when kissing her aching skin, those spots on fire that now settled under your touch. the room smells like sex but she does not protest when you're the one who's cleaning the drool from her swollen lips.

"come here you rich demon," it's easy to trap you in her arms, use her force so you won't have much control now as she presses you against her chest, when your breathing competes with hers and finds the way to fit together — "it's cold. get under the covers."

the sofa's never been more inviting than that night, the small space turns into an excuse for having you closer, pulling you into her embrace now that's not much space as she covers you with the blankets: you're tired, she is tired, there's what? minutes before dawn? it doesn't matter if it's fifteen or twenty but its a silent arrangement. kisses, soft massages and that contact of skin-against-skin that's now unnegotiable.

"you made a mess," you say lazy, tired as you place a soft kiss against her neck, vi can feel it too, the clear evidence of what they've been doing on the sofa — "pretty gross to sleep like this-"

"i'm afraid i don't have enough energy to do something about it piltie," she admits, experiencing the lingering ache in her muscles as if to prove her own words. "guess you really did fuck me up good, huh?"

mechanic!vi who barely survives the next morning (after the two hours of sleep she managed to get) tangled in your arms, the ache in her muscles only grows as she gets up and sips on her cup of coffee watching you stretch out still half asleep.

"you don't have to wake up yet. rest. i'll deal with the radiator."

you take the invitation to the heart cause you're cuddling back in between the sheets with a warm smile and fuck's sake: she loves how you take up her space, how you already made the couch yours, how it will only remind her of you now.

mechanic!vi who doesn't charge you a single golden cog, who listens to you give a long list of why you're going to give her the money she deserves after sticking to her word, keep her promises — she doesn't want your money anyway.

no. what violet vanderson really wants is a date with you.

the piltie that's connected to her from a past life or such, i mean: she's tired of fighting fate lately.

[bbgsaja]

ҍąҍվ ʝմղìօɾ ʂąʝą (βąҍվ Ϛąʝą × Ƒ!Ƕմղէҽɾ!འҽąժҽɾ) քէ ϩ.ϩ

summary - you're overdue and cranky and just want the baby to come. your friends try to distract you from your misery by taking you clothes shopping now that they know the gender, but the baby decides to arrive at the worst time (same plot as the one recently posted, just edited out the drama) warnings - none a/n - okay so i decided that since some of you want drama-free and fluff only, i will write a separate version of the series for you. so while it's under the same name, this will always end in .2 and just be the fluff version. unfortunately it will be shorter and might take longer to come out, though, since my focus will be on the dramatic version part 1 • part 2.2 •

"That's right, still no baby."

You walked out of the elevator and into the living room, throwing your bag down aggressively. Running your hand through your hair, looking irritated and impatient.

Rumi offered you a sympathetic look while Zoey made a comfortable space for you on the couch. You walked over and lowered yourself into that space, just relieved to be off your feet. Baby followed and sat beside you, gently rubbing your belly.

"OW!" You suddenly yelped, then glared at your stomach.

"What was that?" Mira asked, everyone looking at Baby.

"The baby is kicking a lot," he explained, "And because she's half-demon, her kicks are, well..."

"It's a girl?" Rumi's voice came out quiet.

Baby's eyes widened, "Did we not tell you guys? Oh, my bad."

"A girl?!" Zoey squealed and jumped up excitedly. "You're having a girl?"

"That's if she decides to come out," you grumbled.

You threw your arm over your eyes, laying back tiredly as everyone else gushed about the news. You caught onto a few things, one of those being Zoey and Rumi wanting to go shopping for cute little dresses now that they knew the gender. And another being Mira wanting to train her as soon as she could stand.

You groaned.

"Oh come on, (Name)!" Rumi grinned as she sat down beside you. "It's going to be fine! She'll come soon. In the mean time, let's go do something fun and I promise you we'll get your mind off the discomfort."

"Nothing could possibly distract me from this discomfort," you mumbled, but humoured her anyway.

She kept that promise that afternoon, dragging you out to every store that sold baby clothes.

"Oooh, how's this?"

"What about this?"

"This is so cute!"

"She'd look so adorable in this!"

You wished you had the energy to match their enthusiasm, but all the walking was exhausting. So all you could do was offer smiles, thumbs-up and eager nods. You trusted their taste, and you trusted Romance's as well - he'd excitedly tagged along when he heard the words 'clothes' and 'shopping'.

"That is really cute," you took the teal dress that Zoey was holding up, smiling because the colour matched Baby's hair exactly. The little skirt was also too cute to just brush over. "Yeah, definitely this one."

Rumi had somehow found a romper with the words 'I love the Saja Boys' on it, which you found a bit funny and immediately agreed to get.

You ended up with several bags full of baby clothes, mostly because of Rumi and Zoey who really had gone a little bit crazy. And this was on top of the gender-neutral clothes they'd gotten before they knew the baby was going to be a girl.

Now you were walking home, Mira letting you lean on her as you went while Romance carried all the bags and Rumi and Zoey made sure your path was clear.

Your water chose that moment to break.

"Mira," you gasped, your grip on her arm tightening. Your entire body went rigid as liquid pooled around your feet. Zoey instantly called Baby.

The teal-haired rapper appeared within seconds, looking worried.

"Baby," you choked out.

"I'm here," he reassured you, stepping closer to gently grab your arm.

"No, not you Baby!" You cried. "The baby is coming!"

His eyes went wide, "Oh...OH!"

He quickly lifted you up into his arms and disappeared with you, reappearing at the hospital and hurrying inside to the front desk.

The poor demon witnessed the real strength of a hunter that day.

During the birth you almost broke his arm, twice, almost took away his ability to give you another child after this, and gave him a nosebleed. Both of you knew it wasn't going to be an easy birth, but Baby did not expect to be so gruesomely assaulted in the process.

At the end of it, though, it was worth it.

Once you heard the crying, your heavy breathing and panting slowed. Your head stopped spinning, your vision cleared, and your heart raced.

You saw a tuft of teal hair and melted.

"Nine months of being in your mother's stomach," Baby was saying to your newborn, carefully cradling her in his arms, "And you still come out looking like me."

You choked out a laugh, "You have strong genes."

Baby looked up at you, his eyes glassy, "She's a mini-me. Demon form and human. She better have your personality or I'm demanding a refund."

You laughed even more and smiled as he brought her over to you, "I think it's adorable. A mini Baby Saja? She's perfect."

And when you laid eyes on her, you knew you meant it.

Soft, (skin colour) skin that turned purple every few seconds and glowing purple patterns adorning her face, neck and tiny, tiny hands. Teal hair crowning her little head.

"She's so small," Baby murmured, "So soft."

As the two of you marveled at the bundle of love and joy you'd made, the others tumbled into the room chaotically. And by tumbled, they fell in one on top of the other. Just the boys, though, the girls had opened the door and now looked mildly annoyed.

Which changed as soon as they saw your daughter.

They abandoned helping the guys up - which left Abby to fall back on top of the others - and rushed to your side. Shoving your husband out of the way in the way in the process.

"Oh my god, she's so cute!" Zoey gushed.

"That is one adorable baby," Mira cooed, her smile gentle.

Rumi's bottom lip trembled as she looked at the little girl in your arms, her eyes shining with emotion.

You smiled softly, "Wanna hold her?"

The purple-haired hunter nodded, gently taking your baby from you, looking down at her with much more love than you thought she was going to.

"Hi, sweetheart," she cooed, brushing her fingers over the baby's tiny cheek.

"Have you named her yet?" Mira asked, as she and Zoey went to stand on either side of Rumi. All of them admiring and swooning over your sweet little child.

"We were thinking of 'Aera'," you smiled at Baby, then at your friends, "Because it means 'love'. And she's a symbol of love, not just between me and Baby, but like you, Rumi, she's a symbol of love between a human and a demon."

"It's perfect," Rumi actually started crying.

The boys finally gathered around your bed, each one having a turn to hold Aera. Baby watched each and every one of them like a hawk, hovering nearby like he was ready to snatch her out of their hands.

Abby also cried.

Romance sobbed.

Jinu looked like he'd never seen a baby before. Then smiled like he'd just seen the purest, sweetest thing in the world.

And Mystery...he exhaled loudly, then muttered something softly.

You looked at Baby.

"Something like a blessing," your husband explained, nodding along to Mystery's words.

"Something like?!"

tag list - @queensnowlake-wof @just-a-blue-nerd @heartsforjiyuu @katsukiisshawty @luluprincess230lp @kimyeosinah-reum @1-800reki @arieslucy @justanotherreader658 @ch3rryjampi3 @yuriekochou @angestrawberries @m35kbl @yoongles2025

[m3mento-m0rii]

how would the Saha boys react walking in on reader listening to a dnd podcast like legends of avantris uprooted and they walk in during a scene that’s had no context what so ever similar to when your parents walk in on you watching anime at the worst time possible here’s an animated scene of said podcast if you don’t know what I’m talking abt

https://youtube.com/shorts/Cbmdhq4ATNs?si=fQguKNWBZDBjK463

Missing Context—

1.1k words; Saja Boys x Reader Masterlist | Requests paused!

What could possibly explain half the stuff they've heard you listening to on your phone? Go on, they're waiting.

A/N: Hi, so I did know what you were talking about! And I'm sorry it took me so long to finish it 😭 requests that require references take me longer to do because I have to sit down and search. But I still hope you enjoy!!

Jinu—

Jinu wouldn’t even pretend to understand half the things going on in the world today. He only understood social media because he had to, but the pop culture? He didn’t think he’d ever get that.

You, however, were incredibly well-versed in it.

You were hunched over snickering at something on your phone when he walked in. He didn’t pay that any mind. You didn’t have headphones in, and he continued on his mission—whatever that was, before he heard something out of context.

“They tell us they’ve got sausage for us, but it’s not really sausage.”

??

You only laughed more in that silent, raspy way you did when you found something funny, and Jinu couldn’t help but watch. In that, he heard more:

“I took a bite of one, and it wasn’t a sausage at all! It was a shmenis!”

Jinu winced at the mental imagery, his face contorting at the simple idea.

“I hope you spat it out!”

“Tch. No.”

You wiped your eyes, your giggles stalling for a moment. But you looked up, too, and the grimace on Jinu’s expression, the slight scrunch of his nose, the pinch of his brow, it only made you cackle more.

Abby—

“You know, one thing I’ll never forget is the sound of their screams.”

“Chuckles! Who are you even talking about??”

“I scream. You scream. WE ALL SCREAM—”

“For ice cream!” Abby finished brightly, finally looking at the TV.

“—In the house fire at the family reunion.”

Abby blanked. But watching a ghost clown pat a demon on the back while roasting marshmallows over a (you guessed it) house fire caught him off-guard. And he couldn’t help but laugh at the pure absurdity of it.

“What the hell??” He looked over at you, watching your shoulders shake while you tried to muffle your sounds.

“You broke every rib I had. GODS you were strong, then.”

No context?? It was your spray bottle-like laugh. It was the way the commentary slowly got worse, and the characters on screen did, too. Most of all though, it was the humor in every frame, every line, and despite the fact that he didn’t really understand, he was sat with you, too.

You’d just have to explain, or maybe start from the beginning.

Mystery—

He wasn’t paying much attention to what was on TV. In his defense, he was more concerned with the way your fingers felt, nearly petting his hair.

Mystery stared at the questionable looking clown on the television. Animated and simple and . . . green? Well, Mystery was purple, so he didn’t have any room to judge. “But what he was actually watching was the giant octopus that appeared, too. In space.

“I’m going to pull out my plastic toy ray gun . . . How many tickles does it take to get an octopus to laugh?”

A moment of silence. He watches, already expecting a terrible joke.

“TEN-TACLES.”

And you laughed like it was the best joke since the concept of one actually came out, but Mystery was still stuck on the gun the clown pulled. From his mouth.

“I cast gun, prepare to meet god.”

What kind of content-??

“It’s improv,” you had explained, noticing Mystery’s confusion after wiping your eyes. “They’re playing a game, but it’s comedy as well.”

Hmm. Well, okay. Mystery’s gaze remained on the screen as the next clip began playing, though it wasn’t really clicking. Maybe he was missing something. Hearing your laugh, though, did make his lips twinge just slightly.

Romance—

You weren’t paying much attention to anything else in the room, too busy scribbling half-finished thoughts down in a notebook you kept with you. The blinds were open, letting light wash over your desk, and the voices of close friends stirred from your phone in the background.

It helped you focus, you always had to be listening to something. Music, a video, a movie—this time, it was a podcast. A D&D one, specifically.

Kind of niche, right?

Anyways, it was pretty much just white noise while you tried to form something coherent on crisp, fresh pages. Honestly, you were tuning it out a bit, the words kind of meshed together. You didn’t notice the way the sound of paper crinkling as you turned it, didn’t notice the way the ballpoint pen’s rolling, either.

Nor did you notice Romance walking in. Conveniently, at the perfect time.

“No, you’re dead, I saw pigs eat your flesh! No, no, no—”

“I watched the whole thing myself! Hovering above my corpse that had withered away from alcoholism long before I expired. I knew this happened to Klutzy, and when I sucked him back to hell I didn’t think it would happen so soon!”

“. . . What??”

Your neck slowly raised from the awkward slumping you were doing over your paper, trailing across the room to meet Romance’s perplexion. To be fair, you hadn’t even heard what Chuckles said. You were in your own little zone. So you only stared.

“. . . You heard what he said.”

Did he? He wasn’t even quite sure if he heard correctly.

Romance’s brow raised as he tried to find the most possible context for whatever he had walked in on, but he found nothing. He considered grabbing what he needed, but . . . no, he decided to backpedal.

He’d come back later.

Baby—

You were minding your business—you know, as one does when they’re alone. Whisking batter for an obnoxiously long amount of time just because your mixer broke. Grueling, right? So, as anyone would do, you decided to find something to occupy your time.

Like listening to a podcast over all the noise.

It was something you could do without directly watching, and that suited a lot of your hobbies. So you found yourself listening to animated clips of a D&D campaign, ignoring the way your arm wanted to give out on you.

Then, you weren’t so alone.

Baby strolled through the kitchen threshold in the same nonchalant way he always did, likely wondering if you were close to done. At first, he was confused, hearing what was playing on your phone.

“You know what they say—what’s good for the robotic basset hound is good for the hippopotamus, snake, space clown, living ooze, and robotic pug!”

The hell? Not even Baby could come up with something that all those . . . assorted things had in common. Not even air?? The voices he heard were familiar—he’d heard them around before. Especially the nasally one speaking.

“Those animated clips? With the clown?” He asked, appearing at your side to see what video you were watching..

“You’ve heard of Legends of Avantris?”

Baby made a so-so motion. “The only explanation is Chuckles.”

“. . . I think you’re chronically online.”

Baby only hummed, pulling out a stool, and then his phone. Might as well keep you company.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Alright, another one down! The next one up is a Baby fic, so . . . keep an eye out for that. See you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

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

[spcncershybrid]

the kings baker | morpheus

–pairing: morpheus x gn!reader

–word count: 926

–warnings: none, established relationship! set after s2 (in this he lives bc i said so!), reader just bakes and morpheus is swooning

–summary: baking has always been a talent of yours, another talent was having an endless practically wrapped around your finger.

–authors note: apart of my birthday writing bash! if you’d like to join or participate, see this post (ends aug 8th)! also not proofread!

–taglist: follow and turn on notifs to @spcncershybrid-library i will reblog all works there from here on!

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been standing over the tray of cookies. But you knew you loved every second of it.

It felt like an honor giving the workers of the Dreaming a sweet treat after dealing with their jobs. And with their King.

When you married Morpheus he knew of that passion well. He even made a small kitchen quarter for you to have everything baking related at your disposal.

Ever since his close brush with death and The Kindly Ones he knew to take life at a more slower pace, enjoy it all.

He watched fondly at the doorway as you hunched over the tray intricately piping some designs. He could never disturb you in this state no matter how much he wanted your attention.

But you knew better. “Did you need something, my love?” 

“Just admiring you as you work.” He walked into the room, his hands resting on the black marble countertop.

“I’m planning on giving this batch to Cain and Abel. They plan to do a show later on and I offered to make treats.” You smiled as you showed him the different cookies.

There were multiples of Cain in his magician's uniform, fluttering his cape. Some of Abel emerging from a hat, his arms up in the air. And your personal favorite, the rare few of Goldie sitting cutely holding a wand.

“When it’s time will you help me deliver?” You asked as you finished your final cookie.

“Of course.” His eyes brightened as if that was his main purpose in life. 

“Would you like to try the failures?” You said as you passed him the tray of mishaps.

“Nothing you make is a failure.” He shook his head as he picked up an off colored Goldie. 

He didn’t need to eat anything. It didn’t give him energy or nutrients to survive, he wasn’t exactly living.

He bit off a piece relishing in the crunch. He nodded as he chewed the cookie, hints of vanilla icing coating his senses.

He watched you lean over waiting for him to swallow. He would never admit but this was one of his favorite parts of your baking process.

You’d always give him one of the discarded cookies and wait for him to rate it. He was never harsh with his ratings, he knew how hard the work is and he wouldn’t want to discourage you.

Then again even a King wouldn’t say no to a free sweet treat.

“Absolutely wonderful. I rate it a 10/10.” He said sweetly. 

You rolled your eyes as you placed the others in the fridge.

“You always say that. One day I'm going to poison the cookies and let’s see how you rate it.” You teased as you walked over to him, grabbing a cookie of your own. 

“Anything you make will be a 10 in my eyes. But poison your King, and you shall be punished.” His voice was low as he stared at you.

“I can handle it, I always do.” You winked as you bit the cookie making him chuckle.

You each sat in a comfortable silence as you finished up eating.

“I’m delivering the rest around the castle, would you like to join me or do you have other things to do?” You asked as you wiped the crumbs of your cookie off your apron.

He did have other pressing matters to attend to. But he is just a man who loves spending time with his partner.

With a wave of his hand he individually wrapped each cookie. You took off your apron and grabbed a bag, sliding them all in.

He walked silently behind you holding the spare bags as you walked through the castle. He stood a few paces back watching you interact with the patrons of the Dreaming.

He admired you as you paused for each person and gave them a treat and encouragement. Others you gave words of appreciation to.

You both made it to the door of Cain and Abel. The last few cookies you decided should go to them for a boost of energy before the big show. Goldie flew around above you hovering in front of your face. 

Morpheus smiled to himself as you crouched to give Goldie a bag. The small gargoyle squeaked open the bag eating it in one go.

He felt a tug on his being, feeling called to go to the library. 

“Cain, Abel. May you two have a wonderful show.” He nodded to the pair. 

He walked to you crouching down. “I’m being called on. I won’t be able to distribute the rest for the actual show but I can send some people.” 

“It’s fine, do your job. If anything you can taste test the cake I'm making for Lucienne.” You said, making him nod. He gave you a kiss and a grin. In an instant he was gone now standing in the library.

“I apologize, my Lord. There’s some dream ledgers that need your attention and I didn’t want to overstep.” Lucienne said, books already in hand.

A small smile still played on Morpheus’ face as he grabbed the book. He walked wordlessly to a secluded corner of the library to begin working.

“Boss is so whipped. Heard he was helping to give out cookies earlier.” Matthew said as he walked along the edge of the table.

“He’s even smiling.” Mervyn said as he leaned on a shelf.

“Don’t let him hear you say that or we’ll all be put to work extra.” Lucienne scolded as she sat down.

spcncershybrid, 2025. I do not condone my work to be copied or translated and do not claim it as your own, thank you. Feedback is welcome!

[bluegiragi]

I had a story question about monster au! Since Roba was killed when Ghost dug out of his grave, he wouldn't have been able to send anyone after ghost for escaping. So is his family alive in this au? Or did they meet some other unfortunate end?

Simon's family backstory in the Monster AU is very different to what it is in canon, since I kind of engineered it into something that would serve his needs in the story. Simon and Tommy's mum left their father while they were very young and Tommy died around 2 years before Simon underwent his transformation, in a way that was entirely unrelated to monsters.

Simon and Tommy always had a kinda complicated relationship as brothers, because of the age difference between them and the fact they take after different parents (Simon looks more like his dad, Tommy looks more like his mum).

(oh also, Tommy is the younger brother in this AU)

Simon was always the bigger brother, physically and mentally, and tried to protect Tommy from their father's abuse as best he could by taking the brunt of it. He had high hopes for Tommy, since Tommy was a smart and empathetic kid and Simon had kinda given up on making anything of himself at a young age. As they grew up, Tommy grew resentful of Simon not doing enough to fight back against their father (he had a lot of dreams of the two of them running away together and making it on their own) and this resentment grew until he started viewing Simon as stupid and weak for not retaliating. As they became teenagers, Tommy told Simon to stop covering for him and he started trying to protect himself from their father in his own way - by sucking up to him. He said it was just all an act to curry favour but they started to bond and he eventually fell into some shady business with his father and his friends/"business partners".

Simon at this stage had basically given up on Tommy in a "do what you want, it's your life" kind of way, and had signed up out of a desire to just run away from his clusterfuck family. He got news that Tommy had died in an accident from Tommy's girlfriend at the time while he was still deployed, in a letter.

So rundown of the Riley family:

Mum (left at the start, still alive, has her own family)

Dad (alive, Simon wouldn't spit on him to save him if he was on fire)

Tommy (Died in an accident, Simon tries not to think about him)

Tommy's girlfriend (Alive, moved on. Tried to keep contact with Simon initially but quickly gave up after he never responded)

Also, I feel like this rundown makes Simon sound like a real angel in this sort of situation, but I'm glossing over a lot. I think that he and Tommy fought a lot, and he loved Tommy but he didn't like him. "Protecting" him during their childhood wasn't something he did selflessly, he found it a burden it but felt he was obligated to do it since Tommy was the son with actual "potential". He really thought that Tommy would graduate and make something good of himself and make it all "worth it", and he was violent and angry and definitely cruel when Tommy made it clear he wouldn't be doing that. Simon never learned how to explain himself in a way that didn't sound like a lecture or a tirade, and things were just. real shit for most of their youth.

Subconsciously, Simon resented Tommy because he looked like their mum. Tommy didn't remember her much but Simon did, and he harbours a lot of complicated feelings over her walking out on them. Tommy resented Simon for his behaviour, but also because he looks like their dad, who was neglectful at best and physically abusive at his worst.

Also, this all happened years ago. I kinda imagine Simon as being happiest when he can pretend his life started when he enlisted, and everything beforehand happened to someone else.

[enwoso]

for love and country | lovie at the euros

part three — 'brighter days'

grumpy masterlist | for love and country masterlist

by the time alessia and the rest of the team made it back to the team hotel the adrenaline had long faded. the 4-0 win should have felt like elation, hope restored back in the team, three assists for alessia, dominant performance and a team running high on momentum. 

but for alessia, it had been tinged. the sting of your tearful goodbye after the final whistler still sat sharp behind her ribs as she lay in bed.

alessia had showered in silence, pulling her england hoodie. she'd stayed downstairs in the hotel, just long enough to eat with the team, listen to the usual chatter amongst leah and beth, smile at ella's usual nonsense and skits.

but inside, alessia was drifting. half in the moment with the team, half aching for the warm weight of her daughter on her chest.

alessia had come up to her room just after finishing her food, leaving most of the girls to decide what they were watching. as alessia laid back on her bed, the duvet still folded at her feet.

a knock came at the door, opening it and seeing leah with a warm smile and a cup of tea, "you alright?"

alessia nodded, lying, "just tired." as leah hummed holding out the cup of tea for alessia as she silently thanked her girlfriend.

"also.." leah began slipping her hand into her hoodie pocket, "slipped you these from the stand, don't tell sarina." leah winked as she held out some of alessia's favourite biscuits.

"thanks babe," alessia said softly as she sipped the tea, leah nodding slightly, leah could tell something was on alessia's mind - heck she could probably guess what it was.

but leah didn't press, she liked to think she knew when alessia just wanted her own space and time and right now was one of them.

leah leaned in, careful of the hot beverage, pressing a soft kiss to alessia's lips before leaving one on her cheek to and left with a whispered, "i'm just downstairs with the girls watching a film, if you need me message and i'll be straight up, okay?"

leah watched as alessia nodded, "get some rest, i love you."

and then alessia was along again. hearing the door click shut as she walked back over to her bed, putting some show she had been watching before the game as she sipped at her tea.

but it wasn't long until her phone buzzed, 'mum' splayed on the screen and without even a thought alessia answered. "hi"

carol's voice was soft, grounding, "you still up?"

"yeah, can't really sleep.."

carol hummed on the other line as alessia shifted slightly before her mum began to speak again, "i didn't want to bother you earlier as i knew you'd be getting food, but also didn't want to just message," carol spoke, alessia clinging to every word, "y/n settled, took a bit but your dad finally got her to sleep with a few stories"

alessia let out a shaky breath, her mind a little bit more at rest knowing you'd got sleep but the guilt still gnawed at her chest. "i wish i could've done it," alessia sighed. 

"i know, lessi. she just misses you, we all do." carol reassured as alessia nodded even though her mum couldn't see it.

there was a pause, "i just feel like i keep letting her down. first the stupid new rule. then only seeing her for a few minutes after the game. she was crying, mum. like proper - i haven't seen her cry like that since she was a baby." alessia whispered, "and i had to leave, i left her."

carols heart broke slightly listening to alessia's words, her thoughts of failure, when really she was doing the bravest thing ever, "less, no. don't do that to yourself. you're doing what you've always done, since the first moment, your giving her the very best version of yourself. it just looks different right now." her mum'a voice was steady, reassuring almost.

"b-but what if she thinks i've chosen football over her?"

carol was quiet for a moment, then: "she doesn't. she knows who her mum is. she knows the kind of love you give. and she's not keeping score darling. she's just learning how to be apart from you and that's tough. but it in no world means you've failed her."

alessia sniffled as tears slipped silently down her cheeks, "i just.. i miss her, so much." she admitted.

"i know you do less, but she is so proud of you. you should've saw her when you got that second assist. she jumped so high i though your dad was gonna drop his chips."

that made alessia laugh, watery and cracked as she wiped her eyes dry, "really?"

"really. 'that's my mummy,' she kept saying. 'my mummy did that.'" carol said and alessia could tell by the tone of her mums voice she was smiling at the memory. alessia but her lip her chest still heaving.

"get some sleep, less." carol added gently. "and i'll see you tomorrow and you have her for the entire day and she's been talking all about seeing the elephant so no good being tired, right?"

a faint smile crossed alessia's face as she imagine you little babbles about seeing the real elephants at the zoo, "right."

"goodnight, lessi."

"night mum."

when alessia hung up, she tucked herself beneath the covers, leah had messaged saying she'd be up in ten so alessia knew she could snuggle herself to her soon.

the room was quiet, still humming with the afterglow of victory but now steadied by the gentle words of her mum and the promise of tomorrow being better. ... the next morning had begun with a hush as the team ate breakfast. the type that always lingered the day after a hard fought match. the type that filled muscles with ache and minds with reflection

the team where then onto some recovery before their downtime. alessia moved through her program with steady focus, rotating through stretches and resistance bands with the soft chatter of the others.

her body followed instructions but her heart was already ready to sprint out of the facility, up a hill and into the arms of you.

once recovery was finished, sarina had gathered the girls for a little post match review, giving them a few praises for their efforts in the game as well as some areas for them to focus on for the next game before wishing them a good afternoon and that they were free.

alessia tugged on her jumper and tied her boots quicker than usual, drawing a look from leah who was stood beside her, redoing her hair.

"you're practically bouncing" leah said, not unkindly, it bring a smile to the english captains face, seeing her girlfriend happy and excited for what felt like the first time in a few days.

alessia huffed out a breath, grabbing her water bottle as the two walked back towards their room to change before heading out, "i just.. need to see her. want to spend the entire day until the last second with her.. make it up to lovie for being here.

leah stepped in close and wrapped her hand gently around alessia's waist, "she's going to run at you like you hung the moon."

"on facetime the other day she packed her zoo bag," alessia whispered, a small awh drawing from leah's lips, "with a laminated list of the animals she wants to see. laminated le,"

leah laughed softly, of course you did. "the daughter of a lioness, go figure."

the two got back to the room, changed quickly, well alessia did. before she was groaning every five minutes more it took leah to pick with hoodie to pair with her outfit.

once leah had picked the two were on their way to the lobby to meet the other girls joining the zoo expedition, the girls all getting on the mini bus for the short trip to the zoo where alessia would finally, be reunited with her baby.

when they pulled up in the minibus just after midday, you didn't even wait for the door to slide open properly.

"MUMMY!"

alessia barely had a moment to register the small blur hurtling towards her before she caught you mid air, the force knocking her back a step or few.

"oh my goodness," alessia murmured, clutching you like she'd never let go, "hi bubba. hi my lovie girl."

you clung to her like a koala, nose smushed into your mummy's neck as your hair, which had been put into two pigtails tickled alessia's jaw.

"you came," you whispered as if you had been worried it was all gonna be a dream as the rest of the girls filed off the bus, taking in the sweet moment.

"i told you i would. i missed you so, so much" alessia whispered back, rubbing a hand up and down your back as she placed a kiss to your head.

you pulled back slightly, brows furrowed, "where my esme?"

alessia grinned, digging into her bag as the elephant stuffy's head poked out, as she took it out. a small sigh leaving your lips, "safe and sound, just like i promised"

your mummy handed over the slighty rumpled but well loved stuffed elephant and you squealed in relief as you snuggled up to it, "she smell like you!"

"she slept on my pillow every night" alessia reassured as you continued to snuggle up to your loved teddy, it having been missed dearly by you.

"you the best mummy," you whispered, cuddling both esme the elepahnt and alessia tight again, not noticed the figure which as walking towards you.

as from behind the little reunion, leah walked fondly towards you having been talking with alessia's parents before her voice chimed in gently, "room for one more?"

you let go immediately as you turned, "mama!"

alessia stepped aside just enough so that you could dive into leah's arms just like you had with her, mere seconds ago. leah lifting you and spinning you around earning a giggle with practised ease, holding you close.

"i miss you too, little miss"

you hugged leah, as she pressed a kiss to your cheek. the other girls watching on with fond smiles as they spoke amongst themselves. before you wriggled down from leah's arms and hugged each of them.

"my aunties!!" you called out as you flung yourself first into ella's legs with a tight hug, it knocking ella back slightly.

"hey tiny!" ella laughed, scooping you up and sitting you proudly on her hip as you waved at the other girls. "you been behaving for your nonna and nonno?" she asked as you nodded firmly.

as the group walked and caught up, the girls joking on with you as you got closer to the zoo gates. the tension has melted away completely. you were bouncing towards the big, colourful map as you tugged your mummy's hand so hard you almost dropped esme.

"mummy, elefants first, please! es will be sad if we don't!" you pointed to the elephant drawing on the board as your well loved elephant toy stayed tight in your arms as you held it up at little as if it would protest otherwise.

alessia smiled, nodding "of course, lovie, we'll see the elephants first. esme the elephant would never forgive me otherwise." you cheered as you ran a little further in front as alessia turned towards the group, "you heard the little boss, elephants first!"

the zoo was bursting with chatter and sunshine and the shrieks of children, alessia kept one hand near your shoulder most of the time, even when you darted between fences and peered into enclosures with awe.

it took a little longer to get to the elephants than expected, you stopping off at every enclosure you saw, watching the meerkats stands tall and the giraffes eat from the tallest trees as well as a stop off at one of the many souvenir shops where beth bought you an elephant hat with the same floppy ears before finally getting there as you excitedly pointed to the elephant enclosure.

"look mummy, mummy there a baby one too!" you squealed excitedly as alessia lifted you up so you could get a better view as the other girls took photo's and looked too.

"she's in her element," grace smiled as she stood with maya, snapping a photo of you and alessia as you pointed to the elephants while still wearing the hat beth had bought.

"beth's just jelous she didn't get the last hat," maya muttered, chewing on a staw as beth turned a the sound of her name.

"i got her the one she wanted," beth called out proudly, "her favourite animal for our favourite little russo."

"elefants have the longest eyelashes,"  you piped up, "there dis long" you said using your hands to show as the group hummed in, interest as they slowly turned to look at you.

"giving tooney a run for her money!" grace joked, earning a chorus of laughter from the group as ella turned to glare at the young midfielder.

"oi, i pay good money for them," ella muttered, "but who knew we had a little attenborough with us,"

"it just what it says on the sign" you pointed to the glass enclosure where there was a big poster on there filled with fun facts about elephants, as the group all nodded in unison, it now clear you weren't yet, a little genius.

you moved on from the elephants but not before demanding a photo from leah, with your stuffed elephant, esme and the real elephants behind you. next going to see the lions and the snakes as maya faked being scared of them, drawing more giggles from you as finally you saw the flamingos all stood proudly on one leg before the group decided it was time to stop for food.

you all were spread across two picnic benches under the trees, you in the middle of eating a packet of teddy shaped crisps and a carton of apple juice as the rest of the girls shared plates of food when a voice broke through the easy chatter.

"i hope i haven't missed all the fun"

alessia blinked. her head whipping up from her food. "giorgio?!"

your face lit up like fireworks, mid sip of your juice. "UNCLE GIO!" you launched yourseld into his arms, esme dangling from your elbow as your juice box when tumbling to the floor.

giorgio, fresh from the love island villa with sun-kissed skin and trainers that hadn't seen a day of real dirt in weeks, laughed as he spun you around. "you still remember me?"

"your supposed to be on telly!" you questioned, "mummy wouldn't let me watch as she said it was for grown up?"

the whole table burst into laughter as alessia pulled him into a hug, you wrapping your arm around you mummy's neck, "you came all the way here, luca said you'd be in london for at least a week before you could fly here?"

"well what can i say," he shrugged, "i missed my niece and there's more important things happening here than in london

leah stepped in beside them, slinging an arm around alessia's shoulders a wide smile on her face, "your a good brother and uncle"

"i know," gio smirked, smirked, before crouching down to your level. "now... tell me. what is left on the list to see?"  

you immediately launched into a monologue about big cats and elephants and the penguins who were late for feeding time, pulling on gio's hand as you marched him forward like a miniature general - lunch was well and truly forgotten about after that

alessia watched them go, and leah laced their fingers together, gently swinging their hands as the rest of the girls followed, talking along side gio and you.

"she looks so happy," leah said quietly.

alessia nodded. "yeah... i feel like i'm breathing again."

they followed behind the group  arms brushing, smiles soft. and when they reached the enclosure with all the colourful parrots in and you clambered onto alessia's lap to help hold the little cup of seeds, leah snapped a photo without even thinking.

it was just too perfect.a mother and daughter, cheeks pressed together, soft sunlight dancing across their faces.

...

the minibus rattled gently down the swiss hillside, late afternoon sun painting the lake gold in the distance. you had your head pressed against your mummy's shoulder, your fingers loosely holding onto the trunk of your esme the elephant.

most of the girls were chatting quietly among themselves, sun tired and content after a day filled with meerkats, icecream and you demanding to know why giraffes had such 'unfairly long necks'

"alright," beth sighed, stretching as the bus neared the camp entrance. "shower, nap and no one bother me for at least two hours."

"agreed!" maya murmured, half asleep beside beth.

grace was scrolling on her phone in her own little world as ella was sitting near the front, catching alessia's eyes and grinning before giving a little wave to you as you offered a sleepy smile in return.

but alessia didn't move when the doors of the mini bus opened. "you guys go ahead," she told beth quietly, "i'm gonna go to my parents place with lovie for the evening."

beth nodded in understanding, sparing a soft look at the you tucked into alessia's side, "give her a proper cuddle from us, all of us."

once the others had said there goodbyes and waved to you, gio climed into the front seat of the taxi they had  arranged earlier while alessia and leah slid into the back with you inbetween the,

"did you have fun today, angel?" leah asked as the car began to wind through the narrow streets, you moving slightly to lift your head up from the side of your mummy's arm.

you nodded solemnly, rubbing your eyes. "the flamingo's were cool. but i liked the elefants best but the panda's were close."

alessia kissed the top of your head, "that's because they looked sleepy like you."

the chalet where alessia's parents, carol and mario were staying was nestled among tall trees with a red flower box hanging from the window and a warm yellow light glowing behind the gauzy curtains. it was just like alessia and leah imagined it to be from all the facetime calls from you running around it.

carol opened the door with a surprised but delighted smiel, "well, this is a lovely surprise."

"we though we would crash family dinner," leah said with a grin, stepping in behind alessia

the evening played out so gently, mario was in the kitchen with gio as the two caught up on gio's love island experiences. you had taken your shoes off carefully by the door, your esme tucked under one arm and made a beeline for the open plan living room where your colouring book was laid out from earlier this morning.

it was the kind of evening alessia hadn't realised how desperately she had actually needed. no cameras, no recovery, no plans or team meetings. just the six of them, seven if you counted esme the elephant, around the dining table laughing as mario told his day in usual joking fashion.

after dinner, alessia helped you into your pyjamas and guided you through brushing your teeth with the tiny purple toothbrush carol had bought from the local store on the first day and held your hand as the two of you after all the bedtime hugs were given climed the stairs to what had been your room for the past few days.

the room was warm and dimly lit by a your nightlight which went everywhere with you when you weren't staying at home, it being one of the first things alessia would pack when it was time for another camp.

alessia pulled back the covers and you crawled in, curling up immediately with esme tucked against your chest. "you read it, mummt?" you asked, holding up a book that had been at the end of your bed. the spine fraying on the book - elfie the elephant finds her way home.

alessia smiled and sat down beside her ontop of the duvet, flipping to the first page. her voice was quiet, steady, the rhythm familar and rehearsed as if she had done it a million times and truthfully she probably had. 

by the time alessia reached the end, your eyes were heavy, your breathing evening out slightly. alessia leaned down and kissed your forehead, "love you more than all the stars, lovie"

"love you.. to the.. moon.." you mumbled, your voice fading. alessia stayed for a few minutes, tucking you in as your breathing evened, your thumb tucked near your mouth as your esme was nestled beside you before she finally tiptoed back downstairs.

leah was helping carol tody the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, soft domesticity radiating off her like sunlight. "is she down?" her dad asked as she entered the room, mario being stood near the coffee machine.

"out like a light," alessia whispered as her dad handed her a cup of tea.

they all sat together in the lounge, just talking, laughing, letting things slow down. it had been the most normal alessia had felt in weeks. here she wasn't a national athlete. she wasn't a striker. she was just a mum with her family.

but tomorrow would be back to football, to pressure, to all the noise.

but tonight had been quiet. safe.

[itscodpliated]

"Career changing"

Call me B | Part 3 of ??

Part 1 here | Series masterlist

Summary: It should have been simple; bring the omega to her new pack, fill out your mission report and get back on your merry way. But now you’re a member of the 141, have a few hard pills to swallow, a bunch of explaining to do and a lot more to care about…

Warning: None

Note: English is not my first language and I’m writing this in-between taking care of a young child, so I’m sorry if there is mistakes or it isn’t that good.

You're first morning as a member of the 141, and you just had to wake up at the crack ass of dawn... Not because that's what they expected it of you or because Price had some special training planned, it was just because you are used to it. Your ex CO hadn't been a demanding man per say, but he had had his quirks. And after a couple of years of waking up this early with your old team, it's not like you would suddenly stop waking up this early all on your own. Old habit die hard, and all that jazz.

What you hadn't expected was to hear your name being called while bringing your way outside to go for your morning run. Not your rank, not your callsign, but your actual name. You couldn't remember the last time someone called by it. You still hadn't fully woken up and hadn't fully register what was going on when you spoke next.

"Call me B."

"B?"

"B negative, my callsign." You mumble tiredly.

You tried turning around to look at however was talking to you, but a large hand was placed on your head before you could fully. You only caught a glimpse of dusty blonde hair and a strong, scared profile before the hand gently guided your head forward again. That when your tired brain finally caught on the fact that it was Ghost that had called for you.

"What are you doing out?" He asked, is voice much more soft then you had anticipated.

"Daily training."

"At four in the morning?"

"Yeah?"

"Go back to bed, B."

"But-"

"Not buts. This is an order, Sergeant. Go back to bed, or I'll tell the Captain." He said in a stern but still soft voice. A notice shiver ran through you, the low velvet of the Alpha's voice doing something to your instincts, earning yourself a soft chuckle from him.

You both knew he theoretically didn't currently have the authority to force you back to bed since you were still on your own time, your day having not started yet. Even if you knew you didn't actually have to listen to your Lieutenant right now, something in you still didn't want to ignore the Alpha's demand.

"Al-Alright..." you mumbled out.

"Good Beta." For all your judgment of Ophelia for having referred to Price as "Alpha", you currently couldn't stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at Ghost words. He gently released your head as you shuffled your way back to your barrack.

You never found sleep again that night, not with the strange intensity at which you beta was buzzing with excitement.

"B negative? What kind of callsign is that?"

"It's too long to be a good callsign."

"It's B. Just B. The only time anyone ever used the 'negative' part was while writing reports."

"Is it like the blood type or a bad joke about you being a beta?"

"Seriously, what ye did to get that callsign?"

You knew they were just being curious, trying to get to know you, but you really didn't feel like having to explain that one. "It's a long story..."

"I want to hear it."

"I'm sure B will tell you once she'll feel ready to." Ophelia's syrupy sweet voice cut through the discussion from where she was sitting beside you. You could almost ear the 'itch' you knew she had so clearly wanted to had after the B.

You had been quietly co-existing all morning until the boys had showed up so you could all walk to the mess hall together. She had constantly been weaving around you since the three of them had come to fetch you both, keeping herself between you and them while claiming she felt safer close to you.. Soap had commented that it was "quite adorable" to see she was sticking to you for protection, his voice playful, but there had been an edge of sourness tinting is scent that you hadn't missed. Even now, she had managed to push you at the edge of the table, sitting herself in the only spot next to you.

At least your first night with her in your shared barrack hadn't been anywhere near as eventful as she had made the last two weeks be. A small mercy, but you suspect it might not last.

"I'm sad, I was hoping Alpha Price would be here this morning." Here she went again with the seemingly genuine use of designation. You really hoped the second-hand embarrassment wasn't leaking into your scent as much as you thought it was, and you really had to try to convince yourself that this was different to what had happened with Ghost earlier than morning...

"The Captain was occupied."

"With something so important that he couldn't eat breakfast with us?" She asked, her smile suddenly looking much more strained.

"It happens sometimes. Military and all."

"It's just that it's already been two days, and we have yet to share a meal as a pa-"

"You're not pack." Ghost interrupted sternly before getting elbowed by Gaz.

"What the Lieutenant means is that we are happy to have you here, but, you know, we still have to make sure this is a good fit for everyone. Wouldn't want someone getting stuck in anything they didn't want." Gaz said, giving Ophelia a rather placating smile.

"You don't have worry, I'm more than happy to be with this pack."

"We know, we know. We just need to make sure it's a good fit for everyone."

The tension that followed the growing silence was undeniable. You couldn't help but feel you were being witness to a discussion you should have had nothing to do with, squad member or not. Your head had started to spin with how charged the air was getting, a mixture of sourness and a hint of shar coloring the scents around you.

"Anyway..." You started softly, testing the water.

"Are they doing artillery practice today?" You asked, trying to change the subject and ease the tension. You were meat with four pairs of eyes slowly snapping towards you, three clearly confused and on rather annoyed.

"How do ye know that? They haven't even started yet."

"By smell?..." You said hesitantly.

"By smell?"

"You know... Artillery shells have a specific scent..."

"Wait. Is that the weird scent that's been sticking at the back of my throat all morning??"

"Probably." You chuckle out watching Ophelia's confused face. That was probably the most genuine reaction you had seen from her since you meat her.

"You can smell the shells they took out of the armory from here?"

"Not from here. But, you know, I caught the scent while we were making our way to the mess."

"Ophelia, I could understand since she's an Omega, but you must have the best nose we've ever seen on a Beta if you can actually smell that..."

"What next? Ye're going to tell us you can tell C4 from Nitroglycerin by scent?" Soap asked as a joke.

"Well, no, but it's not like I ever took the time to sniff different explosives just to memorize their specific scents..."

You never thought answering Soap's joke genuinely would lead you here; sitting on the floor of their barrack, passing around vials of clear liquid to sniff. As they had said: if you truly had a nose good enough to tell explosives apart by scent, and the only reason you couldn't do it yet was because you had never had a good smell of most of them, they would solve that.

They had managed, you truly didn't know how, to convince one of the K9 handlers to lend them a training quit and were not trying to see if you could consistently identify the scent samples. It had even turn into a little competition. Soap claimed that, as a demolition expert, he would obviously win and Ophelia retorted that neither him or you could beat her obviously superior omega sense of smell. Turned out every samples smelled "vaguely explosive" to Soap and Ophelia, although it was true that her sense of smell was incredible, didn't know enough about explosive to remember all the names correctly. You, for your part, were starting to develop quite the headache, but you couldn't help but find this rater fun. Did you all look like a bunch of idiots? Probably. Put this was helping break that awkward tension you had been feeling and show you the 141 were also human and not just the "mythical" unit everyone had always been talking about.

It was all fun and game, trying to correctly identified the vials Gaz was handing the three of you, Ghost keeping track of everyone's accuracy. That is, until you studently froze, instincts warning of something off.

"Are ye two okay?..."

You had barely any time to look over and see that Ophelia had had the same reaction before it appended.

"When I heard that some moppets were going around bothering other officers and being up to no good, I was truly hoping it wouldn't be my moppets." Price said drily, appearing at the door.

There was a long pose were the three man stared at the Captain before trailing back towards Ophelia and you, eyes full of what you could only describe as wonder, even faced with the annoyed Alpha.

"What are you even doing?"

"Well... we discovered B as a really good sense of smell and we were trying to test it."

"B?"

"B would be referring to me." You say, trying not to laugh at the hole situation and how Soap was still looking at you in pure aw at the fact you had seemingly sense Price approached before any of them did, just like Ophelia.

"Nevermind. You can all explain yourself later, we have an urgent briefing to get to."

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[enchantressiren]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥—𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧.❞

Pick your poison (detailed).

Masterlist.

Author’s note,

Just finished my paid services if anyone is interested. Anyways, I was trying to figure out how to make this into a pac because it is so random, but what the hell, right? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Moodboard | Divider.

Pile I.

Channeled song.

“Sometimes, I like to think about the moon and the sun. How they align with one another, and how I align with you. How can we align with one another so well like the moon and the sun? Are we a God and a Goddess? Are we Aphrodite and Hercules? Are you my beauty queen, and am I your fighter?”

Your future spouse/person wants you to think outside the box more. Stop thinking in black and white, focus on your innermost feelings, and let yourself breathe. You don’t have to be a particular way; you can be every single way when you label yourself. You can call yourself serious and strong but sometimes feel goofy and sensitive. There is no specific way a label must be. You don't have to be right in everything you do nor follow what is right about a specific genre or a couple. You have to be right for yourself, but you can't be if you won't allow yourself to be contradictory. It’s not fair to you, nor is it fair during sex.

You want it one way, but when you do it that way; you can't handle it, and you do it another way, and the cycle repeats itself. It is okay to change your mind, but when you get your gift, you should learn to appreciate it. Appreciate me too, I need that right now, appreciate us.. we need that. I don't want to keep fighting with you, I love you lots, but do you love me lots?

Channeled song.

“I want to fight for us, I want to praise you, I want to love you—can you love me? Are we always going to fight with each other? Are we always going to kiss one another, have passionate sex, and then always argue? Is this the relationship you dreamed of when we were kids? Is this what you thought was going to happen when you accepted my proposal? Is this something that makes you happy? Pick your poison (your name). Are you happy?”

“I don’t want to think about cheating with you, but ever since you started to become abusive, I have—I’m not your abusive ex, stop projecting it onto me. I deserve better, and I've been fighting it with you, but you won't see it. I'm going to leave. And when I leave, don’t come chasing me again. I need that peace surrounding me, and you are my icebreaker that I don’t want. I don't want you, I don't, I don't, I don't—I want you gone. Just leave me.. le—”

A lot of anger surrounds your childhood best friend or sweetheart, a lot. When someone feels very angry, they don’t know how to put it into words, and the same can be said here. They want to say things to you that they will regret so you can feel the same anger, but at the same time, they want to do better and try to work it out. The issue is, it never will work out if you don’t change yourself right now.

You are at war with yourself, and you have become egotistical and nasty. It's very nasty that channeling your energy makes me feel nauseous, dehydrated, and sick. There is a lot of unnecessary rage within your heart, and yet you were in the wrong when this friendship ended, or this long-lasting relationship ended with your ex. You need to let it go and stop projecting.

You have someone who is going to be so loyal to you, and yet? It doesn’t matter because hurting them and sabotaging feels freer—makes you feel alive when it shouldn’t.

Channeled song.

“Tsk, tsk, disappointing yourself, cheating on yourself, is your poison. Imagine being your own demise because you don't believe in goodness? That you don't believe in happiness, in peace, or in love? How pathetic.”

Your mind is a walking paradox. On one hand, you want to love and cherish them, and on the other, you want to despise them for what they did. And no, this isn't about your future person, this is about loving you.

What is so disgusting about you that you cannot love yourself the right way? What is so daunting about you that you cannot attend to yourself? Because you are scared of people, because your social anxiety fucks with your pretty brain? Because God (metaphor) doesn’t love you, so you must hate yourself? What do you think your future person is going to think about this, and what do you think your inner child is going to see, knowing damn well the hardships they had to go through only to end up like this? Seriously?! You want to let your past self down and harm your HEALED inner child because you are afraid of happiness and peace??

Get a grip, get a fucking grip and yell at yourself, TELL YOURSELF that you deserve happiness, you deserve it, you fucking deserve it. Do you understand?? YOU FUCKING DESERVE IT!!!!

Do not sabotage yourself BECAUSE YOU DESERVE HAPPINESS AND I WANT YOU TO FUCKING DO IT. GIVE YOURSELF THE PEACE THAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE, GIVE YOURSELF THE HAPPINESS YOU FUCKING DESERVE. IT WAS TIME AGES AGO, BUT YOU REJECTED IT BECAUSE OF THIS. DO BETTER. Please.

**Remember this is from your future person. Just an intuitive thing.**

Channeled song.

Masterlist.

Pile II.

Channeled song.

When you think about monsters, what do you see? Do you think about your favorite comfort characters that you fantasize about (knowing they are awful people)? Do you think about your parents, about your siblings, or your extended family? Do you think about me triggering you to heal yourself? Do you think about the PACs you read that call you out on your bullshit? Or do you think about yourself when you made a fucking mistake and then go on a spiral when you don’t have to?

Do you like breaking your spirit to the point where you cannot come back? Do you like insulting yourself to the point where you cannot enjoy the moment? Where you cannot even allow yourself to masturbate to the characters you like—who they are is not something you should focus on. You are allowed to find them hot, everyone does it, and it is not—it does not make you a bad person. It’s okay to find them attractive, so stop being a dick to yourself. “Who do you think you are? You don’t even know who I am, fuck you. You are not worth my time. Let me throw you hate, you deserve it—”

It’s almost like you want to throw me this hate and yet.. in your heart, you know deep down it is about you. You don’t even know who you are. Who are you?? Tell me, who are you? I don’t know who are you, no one does, not even yourself, how could you do that to yourself.. was it something you deserve?

To not know who you are, to lose yourself for others opinions, and then make fun of yourself when you cannot become them? There is nothing to become, and there is nothing to go home to. How can you expect things from yourself when you are a shell of what they created? They broke you, broke every single thing about you, and yet, you never allowed them to. You become like others, you lost your confidence, but you can always get it back. You lost your happiness, but you can always get it back. You lost your purpose, but you CAN always make a new one. Our happiness, our confidence, and our purpose do not define us, OUR WANTS do.

Do you understand, my love?? Your character can determine who you are ON THE OUTSIDE, to OTHERS, but who you are on the inside, you wants… that determines who you really are. What do you really want to do, my pretty?

Do you want others to laugh at you, do you want to keep blaming yourself for it, or do you want to fight for yourself and become better just for you?

Channeled song.

What do you imagine when you think about fighting for yourself? What comes to mind for you?

Is it going on a quiet road trip when the sky is pouring with sweet rain? Is it coming home to see your loved ones praising you for your hard work? Is it knowing that you found a healthy partner sharing your hardships with you? Is it knowing that you can have healthy sex for the first time in your life and finally knowing what aftercare is? Is it finally learning how to educate yourself about sex, masturbation, and healthy sex? Is it constructing your dream home and living in it like Rapunzel but having it as your choice?

What is more appealing to you, my pretty, is it fighting for yourself or fighting yourself for others?

Masterlist.

Pile III.

Channeled song.

Thank you for ending a shitty relationship with your person. It doesn’t matter what type of relationship it was, but thanks for respecting and prioritizing yourself. We don’t know each other, maybe you follow me, maybe you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Thanks.

Your energy is so pretty right now. A lot of bad things would happen when you were with them, but you could not let them go because you cared. You cared way too much more than you should have. Sure, there were moments when things were so lovely with them, but having that shallow mindset made things hard for you to realize their bullshit.

You liked their looks, their body, their voice, etc., but never their personality. Their physical attributes made up for everything, and it was nice for a while until it started to become unbearable. Intuition tells me you craved to be with someone handsome/gorgeous like them for so long, kind of like a dream board or 16 wishes. It was good for a while until those wishes were fading away, and each time you wished for something else, another thing disappeared. If you have not seen the Disney movie, I recommend that you do—there are so many messages for you. The ending is something you must see.

Channeled song.

Your ending is short just as their love was for you. It’s kind of like you want to hear me praise you more or show you appreciation for what you did. But you need to do that for yourself; I cannot offer something that you lack.

You have to start showing yourself the praise and love you seek from others. Yeah, your relationship ended, but don’t make the same mistake you made in the beginning with them. Learn from your lessons and nurture yourself.

Masterlist.

[jjwolves]

Whoaaa I wasn't expecting to see Mr Tenna content here!! I know this guy already has some vibes but may I ask some headcanons of him being yandere? If you don't mind

ROBOT MONSTER

What: Yandere Tenna X Reader Imagine

Who: Tenna from Deltarune (By Toby Fox)

How Much: ~1500 Words, ~7 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Toby Fox, Divider -> @icyporcelain

Warnings: Toxic Behavior, Kidnapping, General Yandere Shenanigans

Even from the start, Tenna knew that he wouldn't be able to let go of you even if it was good for him. He was thoroughly starstruck at having met someone who liked him, who valued him. And not as talent nor entertainment, no. But as a person. Someone who entertained and loved laughing and inciting laughter all the same, sure, but also someone who would stare into a cup of coffee and think, surely, that every minute on the clock was accounted for, every second of happiness paid for in advance through an inevitable dive into obscurity. A shoulder to cry on and someone who would talk to him like a person did wonders for his morale, and suddenly he found himself re-evaluating a lot of his priorities. He was always running from something, trying to extend his time just a little longer, trying to wring out a little more color for the big screens. But with you, wow! That's someone worth running towards! And so, Tenna's strange new fixation begins to slot itself into his regularly scheduled programming. He secretly hopes you didn't notice the flower his nose just sprouted as you walked past. (You did.)

Tenna works obsessively to make sure that TV World is more to your liking. Only gourmet TV dinners made with the best mysterious blue stuff may be given to you, and Pippins ought to open doors for you before you even get there. TV Time will have deranged, lengthy segments related to any interests Tenna has managed to get you to divulge. They're often drawn out to an unnatural degree that makes the other actors a little uncomfortable, which the show's host picks up on and makes sure to rant about once he's backstage. "Will you quit giving me that look? That look like, 'Oh Mr. Tenna, these topics are WEIRD!' Don't you think I do the research!? Kids and grown ups alike LOVE this kind of stuff! And if they don't, they don't have very good taste. People like that shouldn't be watchin' TV Time anyway!" Tenna thinks that if he can use his influence to make TV World a five-star experience for you, you'll want to stay, even if his lousy actors and employees get in the way with their objections, constant questioning and occasional accident. At one point, a Shadowguy forgot to put a warning sign down after mopping the floor. Not paying attention, you ended up slipping and your coffee went flying. You weren't too mad about it, since you weren't hurt or anything. Tenna, though? The next time you see him, his antennae are putting out signals as he angrily murmurs to the corner of the room he's facing, hands behind his back. "Don't you know how hard I'm working just to keep this all together?! Enough slip-ups, and, and..." You don't even make the connection the first time it happens. You definitely can't tell that the Shadowguy responsible has gone missing, either.

Whenever you spend some time with him, talking about TV or sketching bumper designs or gossiping about other Darkners, expect him to prod you for your opinions a little. "Hahaha! It's true, the Pippins came into TV World dressed for the job. Speaking of... What's your opinion on fashion? I mean, you can probably guess what I think of it. Fashion is half of your stage presence!" You might expect him to be unnerved by darker interests like horror, true crime or even occultism, but he's surprisingly unflinching when you reveal these to him, as you soon find out one night. "Sweetheart, I've run about a hundred horror flicks this past month. GHOSTS and BLOODSHED galore! TV makes you tough like that!" He looks contemplative as his antennae straighten like he has an idea. "Say, here's a Pop Quiz for you. No wrong answers, of course, but. Hmm... Do you like being scared?" Scared? Tenna throws his arms in the air to summon dramatic flair. "Frightened! Terrified! Jumping at bumps in the night!" Thinking on it, you decide that being scared can be kind of exciting in its own way. It's probably why movies for it even exist. As you answer him, you begin to realize just how tall he is compared to you. The dude's huge, even when he's sitting cross-legged on the floor of your apartment. Why hadn't you ever noticed that all the other times you two met? "I think I agree. Being scared is fun, in a way. Oh, that gives me an idea!" You perk up as he snaps his fingers and gets to his feet. Does he want to share the idea he had for the show, you wonder? But you quickly realize that might not be the case when his hands sharpen into claws and he gives a mischievous grin. "Oh, think of it as a monster movie marathon, but not for TV! Hahaha! Here I come!!!" No time to waste, you dart through the hallway as Tenna sprints after you. You're not scared, per se, but more surprised at how playful the host of TV Time is being. And if you're completely honest, it's a little unnerving having someone so large chase after you, but maybe it'll be alright to indulge in something childish like this once in a while.

You circle around the couch as Tenna tries to skid to a stop but falls over. Well, that's what he gets for starting this. Good an opportunity as any, you leap back over the couch to try to book it to the kitchen, but Tenna gets up quicker than you'd expect for someone his size and backs you into a corner. Your heart's racing, although whether it's from the closeness or the exercise, you're not sure. "So, did I do a good job? That was scary, right?" Hmm... You tell him that it was more unexpected than scary, but you appreciate the effort either way. His cardio was impressive. Tenna bashfully turns away and sighs, looking down. "...That's good. Sometimes it's hard to gauge what people really want, or even need, without them telling you. I didn't know if tag was what the doctor ordered, but. Ahem. You just looked so chaseable!" You joke that he guessed well. He should trust his intuition more! Even if it was surprising and weird, Tenna always seems to somehow know what you need at the time, be it word or action, and perhaps the stresses of life demanded the occasional game of tag. He probably shouldn't try that with anyone else if he doesn't want to get tazed, though. "Hahaha! All I'm hearing is free shock therapy!" Suddenly, Tenna lifts you up, and you're not sure if he realizes how patronizing other people might view this as. But if it's him, you suppose it's fine. "I'm really, really glad that we're so... On the same wavelength. PUN intended!" The smile which curves under his pointed nose seems to shift, and maybe it's the lighting, but it looks a little awkward. "But it really is hard, sometimes... Trying to make people happy. You make me feel like I'm an expert in the field!" A chuckle and confirmation manages to get a blush out of him, which helps reinvigorate his usual bravado. "Well, this expert has been trying to come up with answers to a very special Pop Quiz for a long time. Thank you for the kindly honesty which has given me the courage to take a stab at it!" You hear a click, blink, and before you know it, you're in a large gotchy-ball, Tenna staring up into your cage and giving an award-losing smile like he's either guilty or sick to his stomach. Maybe both.

This isn't funny. This isn't funny at all. You bang on the plastic walls of the sphere, decorated with your signature colors. You'd be flattered by more of Tenna's signature attention to detail if you weren't being held against your will. Panicking, you demand that Tenna let you out as he holds your prison in one of his hands. Tenna's smiling, but it's not happy. "I'm sorry, I really am! But even with all the work I'm doing, our runtime is getting low. You're always one foot out the door, and I need more time to make everything perfect! You can wait a while, can't you?" Wait, so, you're just supposed to stay in here?! For how long?! Tenna looks into the ball, seemingly remorseful as his screen drowns in interference. But he clearly made up his mind, offering a weak chuckle in his defense. "Look, look, I'm sorry, but I like you a lot. I've always really... Liked you. And if I let you leave your custom-made premium capture ball, you might make a big mistake. You might leave before I can... Show you my best. TV World's a bit of a FIXER-UPPER, I know, but you'll learn to like it even more once I'm done renovating it for you. And in the meantime, it won't even be that different if you think about it. We'll watch re-runs, hang out, we'll make it work! It doesn't have to be weird!" You slump back in your plastic prison as Tenna begins to carry you somewhere "safer". Being scared isn't fun anymore. You think you want to change the channel now.

A/N: For reference, look up the 1950's movie that this fic is named after. I thought it was fitting.

A/N: I hope it lives up to expectations

[brbievivi]

The boy is mine .ᐟ

Synopsis : You are a potion maker in Briar Valley. Known for your custom made infused cosmetics, you gained much traction with your “modern elements” which were enjoyed by both fae and humans alike. However, you desire the attention of someone else…

A/N : This post will feature Malleus. Inspired by The Boy is mine (both versions are so good.)

“How can it be? You and me / Might be meant to be, can't unsee it”

It’s evening, and you are at your elixir shop putting bottles of potions away. However, your main focus is on the TV in front of you, showcasing a parade in honor of Malleus Draconia's birthday.

Here in Briar Valley, Malleus's birthday is a national holiday. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be there in person since you are at Fleur City for a business trip.

Despite your absence, the celebration for the Prince of Briar Valley still fills your heart with joy. You could say you have a small obsession for him, one that’s been going on for months.

Near you lies a potion, labeled “Cupid’s kiss—use with caution.” The potion shimmers with a rose gold hue, perfectly curated with love.

Suddenly, the second you turn around, a mischievous black cat leaps from your window to your desk, knocking your potion to the floor.

“I'm usually so unproblematic / So independent / “Tell me why / Cause the boy is mine, mine"

You grab a syringe from one of the shelves as you frantically sit on the floor, using the fine needle to draw the shimmering fluid from the spilled potion.

If someone were to walk in on you, they would definitely raise an eyebrow. You're known in Briar Valley for being very calm and collected; you're filled with independence, able to make decisions without others approval.

But you just can’t shake this feeling you have for the prince; he’s the only presence you desire to have.

“Somethin' about him is made for somebody like me”

I mean technically you do have his presence lingering; you have multiple photos of Malleus from the tabloids and newspapers. Each covered with hearts and xoxo messages.

You hide this mini collection in the back of your shop behind a curtain. Can’t risk anyone seeing it, of course.

Again, you’re a tad bit obsessed, but you can’t help yourself; the prince of your country is kind, intelligent, powerful, and a sucker for ice cream. What’s not to love?

Sure, he misses social cues, but that just makes him even more charming in your eyes.

“God knows I'm tryin', but there's just no use in denying / The boy is mine”

You’re not the only person in Briar Valley obsessed with Malleus; in fact, he has a whole fan club dedicated to him.

You tried joining but decided against it. You didn’t want to sit and hear others gush about how distinguished the prince is; no, you needed something to grab his attention.

On your way home you think to yourself of a plan to get even closer to the prince.

You remember that he’s at a social here in Fleur City, hosted by an arcane academy called Noble Bell College.

You can’t believe you missed that simple detail, but here’s your chance to take your plan into action.

“The boy is mine / I can't wait to try him / Le-let's get intertwined / The stars, they aligned"

As you arrive home, you rush to your closet. You pull old clothes off of multiple hangers, wanting to use the fabric to make something new.

You grab scissors, a needle, and measuring tape from an old jewelry box as you head to your living room.

Sitting at your mini coffee table, you place down your supplies and use a touch of magic to help cultivate an outfit.

“The boy is mine / Watch me take my time / I can't believe my mind / The boy is divine”

You need something sleek, stealthy, and acrobatic.

You use your magic to cut, sew, and measure a shiny latex fabric. An hour later, your place is a mess, but you have curated your outfit.

The outfit fits perfectly; your body is adorned in a glossy latex suit and a lace pattern covering your arms, with a black mask and cat ears to match.

You add a finishing touch of stiletto black nails; you plan to spy in style.

“Please know this ain't what I planned for / Probably wouldn't bet a dime or my life on / There's gotta be a reason why"

Shimmering in your pocket is the love potion as you glide into the night, blending in the shadows as you hop from building to building, using your magic to retract your sound.

It’s not hard finding NBC; it’s established in the middle of the city between two rivers. As you get closer and closer, you notice students are entering where the statue of the Righteous Judge is; you look out but still don’t see Malleus.

You hide in the bushes and use a grapple to get up on top of the buildings, peeking through windows to see if you spot a familiar face.

You searched every window, but you still can’t find Malleus. Suddenly you hear the ring of a bell and look up to see the Bell of Solace, but what grabs your attention further is you see a shadow, and in that shadow outlines a pair of horns.

To be honest, you’re a little peeved, because how could you forget? Of course, Malleus would be up at the tower where the gargoyles are; you're most definitely aware of how much the prince loves them.

“Somethin' about him is made for somebody like me / Baby, come over, come over (over) / And God knows I'm tryin', but there's just no use in denying”

You finally reach the tower and use your grapple hook to climb the wooden planks. You notice all the gargoyles lingering on certain steps, and you can’t help but feel they are watching you.

As you come closer, you see Malleus's shadow; you enter the tower a floor below him and make your way up the stairs, again using your magic to make your steps quiet and swift.

You make your way up to the final floor of the tower and hide behind the bell and peek to see the prince up close.

However, to your surprise, he’s not there anymore. Your initial shock makes you stumble, and you feel yourself bump into something. As you turn around, you see Malleus looming over you…

“The boy is mine…”

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Walkies

Debut: Walkies

What the hell is Walkies

Name: Walkies

Debut: WarioWare: D.I.Y.

Oh! Yeah. That makes sense. These are Walkies! Walkies are some manner of little critter, which, to be honest, are more interesting due to the circumstances of their existence rather than anything about them as creatures! To start off, they are from WarioWare: D.I.Y., which is the game about making your own microgames, which can star literally anything.

However. HOWEVER! Don't you get any ideas now. I'm now so cheeky that I would post about something I made in a WarioWare game, claiming it to be a Mario entity. I'm not going to post about the smiling corn cob from Corn Smash, the first microgame I ever made. Walkies are different. Walkies... have a page on the Super Mario Wiki. They're catalogued. They're significant. In a way, they are much like Super Mario himself. I find them hard to tell apart from him sometimes.

Walkies (the game) is not in the base game of WarioWare: D.I.Y., but instead, was available as a free download, among other microgames made by various sources, and distributed by Nintendo officially! Walkies was one of a few developed by Nintendo Treehouse, and so is official, yet obscure, optional, western-exclusive content. It's rare to know about Walkies, let alone have played their game.

It's been quite a while since we've covered something mainly out of a desire to showcase its obscurity, I think! And Walkies are absolutely obscure. Not the most obscure entities in the Marioverse, certainly- I probably haven't even heard of the true most obscure ones yet!- but definitely one of the least cared about. Hold on, it's been a while since the last image. I need something eye-catching to keep your attention.

Excellent, that will do just fine. Watch out for that little fellow! So, what are Walkies? I want to discuss that! I want to go over everything we know about them as creatures, and help you become one of the world's leading experts on these things. By the end of this post, you'll probably care more about Walkies than whoever created their microgame, honestly. I bet that person hasn't thought about them in years... isn't that sad? Walkies on their own in the world...

The goal of Walkies (game) is to click the biggest Walkie (creature), to make it eat the smaller ones. Once you do this, you have won! So we know that Walkies are autotrophs, and there's no reason to assume they're not animals. They're cannibalistic, which cannot be said about most things with a Super Mario Wiki page! They come in different sizes, though it's unclear if the smaller ones may simply be younger than the bigger ones. They live in some kind of flat yellow plain with mountains in the background. Uh... they walk. They're red discs with black legs. I think that's everything! "Walkies" is a cute name for them. It sounds uncreative, but we here in Real World have an animal called "Fly", named after the fact that it flies. It is not the only animal that flies, but evidently it does so with the most gumption.

I like Walkies! That much is obvious. I wanted to show my appreciation. So I made one real! This is probably the first Walkie fanart and Walkie object to ever exist, but it certainly does not have to be the last, if you're so inclined.

Walkies (game) was released on June 28th, 2010. Now you know its birthday! Some of you reading this may be younger than Walkies. That's scary! Stop that!