#everything else is fine just these 6 or so

[lizardho]

Do you have any tips for surviving a mission as a queer person?

Tip #1 - Don’t go. Genuinely, I know this can be hard for people to hear, but don’t do it. You can’t fix it from the inside, the mission experience is not one that is swayed by pleas for compassion, by heartfelt humanity, by openness and congruence. People will tell you it is, they’ll say you can change the world, that You Being You is all the Lord wants, but they’re wrong. You cannot change in 2 years what Mormonism has spent 100+ years rending and shattering. You cannot ever be You in a way that matters. At best you will be a token to be spent, and at worst you will be spiritually eviscerated and left to bleed out alone once they’re done with you. If this breaks you, they will NOT put you back together again, they won’t even attempt to try or help, they’ll just leave you dying on the roadside like the priests in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. If not going means your mom is sad, or your dad feels like a failure, or your bishop won’t leave you tf alone, STILL do not go. Your mom can be sad for a bit, it’s better than having your soul broken and your heart pulled out and burned on the altar of Buried Gays. Here be monsters, do not set sail.

Tip #2 - if you DO go, like if your tuition hinges on it, don’t give them your passport. If they pressure you, tell them you’re holding onto it even if it doesn’t make sense. Don’t fold on this. They can use a passport to keep you in the field longer.

Tip #3 - Learn to “lie.” I put lie in quotes because it’s often not lying - the questions you are asked are often lies. If someone asks “how many people will you visit this week?” give them the correct answer because what they’re asking in actuality is not “how many people” but “how faithful are you” and the premise is erroneous. If people ask you if you’re queer, say “no,” because knowing you’re queer won’t change their perception of queerness it will endanger your safety and mental health.

Tip #4 - Be bad at it. A good missionary ignores boundaries or discomfort, they push people too hard and too fast, they manipulate others, they take advantage of pain points. It’s better to be a bad missionary. If someone says “I’m not interested” you’re supposed to say “well can I ask why?” but if you say “that’s totally fine! Here’s a card with an inspirational quote and a link to our website!” they usually feel better about it in the long run and you don’t have to pretend you forgot what consent is for two years. ALSO, being a good missionary means supporting other missionaries and sometimes that is NOT ok. I remember supporting a missionary or two struggling with depression and that was a great use of time, but I also remember getting treated like a Narc for a transfer cycle because I called out a pedo Elder for proposing to a 13 year old. Like. Just because he’s an elder or she’s a sister does NOT mean they are Your People.

Tip #5 - Make a game of it. If you take it seriously it will break you - everything bad is your fault, everything good is God having mercy on you. That just marinades you in guilt and inadequacy for two years. Instead, make it fun through any means necessary. I kept a tally of which ward members had inactivated the most people. I read scripture for fun and not just for work (like reading the OT for the stories and not for whatever else). I downloaded rain sounds to listen to at night so I could sleep. I played solo D&D campaigns. I took longer routes to lessons if it meant walking somewhere pretty or relaxing. Do what makes it bearable for you and do it with the knowledge that you’re not sinning for having fun.

Tip #6 - Actually learn scripture - it makes it easier to get people off your back if you do, it can actually be kinda fun and helpful, and it helps you be more genuine without having to use gimmicks like “The Spirit Voice” (the voice missionaries whip out to say something Serious and Real). Scripture isn’t inherently bad.

Tip #7 - Only stay as long as it’s good - everything has good and bad days, but if the bad days start piling up and making everything feel heavy, if you start thinking of suicide, if you start having panic attacks or worsening mental health, if you’re sick or you’re being taken advantage of or hurt or bullied or whatever just leave. They’ll tell you it’s your fault for being weak or faithless and that is such a crock of shit. That’s actual DARVO in action. Don’t buy it.

Tip #8 - Don’t skip the “hard” or “ugly” parts of lessons - teach the law of tithes to the impoverished, teach the law of chastity to gay people, AS IT IS IN THE CHURCH, because they deserve to know what they’re committing to, and too often they find out too late that what they thought they were committing to was Eternal Joy and what they actually committed to was Mom Working Now So We Can Afford Tithing or Everyone Treating Me Like I’m Diseased Because I’m Gay. Let people you teach see the real church, not the sanitized performance they put on.

Tip #9 - If you’re following the mission rules to a T and really not reading for pleasure, then DO NOT read anything but scripture. The teachings of David O McKay will not help your gay investigator make sense of why the church hates and reviles and rebukes his love, but it will open you up to a certain type of missionary who is unbearable to interact with.

Tip # 10 - Really do NOT go if there is ANY other way. If you can do a service mission, do it. If you can get a scholarship somewhere, take that and don’t go. If you can get an apprenticeship in a trade, do that instead. The church sells a lot of hype about RMs and the biggest thing I learned is that if my sister ever wanted to date an RM I would be scared for her safety. Even when I was a TBM, before my faith crisis but after I returned home, anytime I’d hear people say “make sure to date RMs only” I’d panic about it because even the “good” RMs I knew from my mission days had done some fucked up shit. Do not go.

[simswoon]

oc interview tag game with Theo <3 ty for the tags @snderist @cakepoppresent @vampwan

1. Are you named after anyone? Nah, not really. My parents gave me a Korean name, but I went by Theo in school and just… stuck with it. Felt easier. I don’t really use my Korean name anymore. Doesn’t mean I don’t respect it—it’s just… not who I turned out to be.

2. When was the last time you cried? When this little bugger was born. I was fine all through labor, being supportive and calm and, y’know, ‘strong.’ And then I held them and just [makes a small explosion gesture] mess.

3. Do you have kids? Yeah, four amazing, smart, talented kids. my bonus twins Sloane & Jude, Valen, and now this little one me and Len had. I honestly wouldn’t change anything about any of them. Now if it was up to me, we’d have one more, but Len has completely shut it down.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Nope. Never. Not once.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they hold themselves. Not like posture or whatever, but like… if they’re carrying something. Emotionally, I mean. Some people walk into a room like they’re trying not to be seen. I notice that.

6. What’s your eye color? Brown. Boring answer, but have you seen Len’s eyes? They’re like this light brown color and when she’s in the sun, they’re almost golden.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. Every time.

8. Any special talents? I can snowboard, I can play guitar, I also do all the voices in bedtime stories—which the kids love, by the way.

9. Where were you born? I was born in Jeonju, South Korea, but we moved to Athens, Georgia when I was pretty young. I don’t remember much of it. Everything else feels like a story someone told me.

10. Do you have any pets? Yeah, my dog, Fairy. She’s this fluffy little rescue I got after Lennon and I broke up in college. I was doing all this travel stuff and hated being alone, so… yeah. She’s my road buddy and now family buddy.

11. What sort of sports do you play? Snowboarding’s the main one. I do some light boxing in the garage and jogging with the dog when I get some free time.

12. How tall are you? 6'2

13. What is your dream job? Just being a dad. That’s it. If I can keep doing that and making memories with them? I’ve already made it.

Tagging: @luvlian @evilgoof @lottagreaves @duusheen @myshunoa (even though they hate me and never post anything) @mysimmy @lovebottedtrait @rasoyas @willowcreektownie @chestnutrdge and like everyone else too

[juliaswritingbubble]

"Love you"

summary: where Y/N is visiting Spencer in prison and when he finally gets out confessions are made It took Prentiss and Rossi to convince me to visit Spencer. He has been imprisoned for over two months now, and I always had a good excuse to not see him. Even when everybody always told me, he was asking about me and I really should go see him. I drove to Millburn at least three times, but I couldn't make myself go in.

I know seeing him locked up, maybe beaten up, hurt, his hazel eyes filled with sorrow and a distinct glimmer of hope that I can't fulfill or ignite more—it will be the hardest thing I have ever done.

But I'm standing here now. Inside the prison, giving them my credentials and locking away my gun. My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and I try to calm down my breath. I straighten my shirt; it's bright red and tight-fitted. I also took out my black dress pants, boots, and a blazer—all black. I took my time to look decent and pretty. I did my makeup carefully and curled my hair and styled it.

“Visitor for inmate Reid, booth 6, over here,” the guard calls me, and I take a seat. In front of me is a mid-high divider; to the left and right are Plexiglas dividers. I fumble with my hands, twisting my ring, adjusting my hair, and when the inmates walk in, I push up my glasses when his eyes find mine and his face relaxes and a faint smile appears on his lips.

Spencer takes a seat across from me and I so desperately want to hug him or at least touch him, but we are not allowed to.

“Hi,” he says quietly, observing my facial expression and avoiding his gaze. I'm afraid I will break if I look too closely at him.

“Hey,” I answer equally quiet and take a deep breath.

“It’s so good to see you. I thought you forgot about me.” He chuckles, and I try to smile halfheartedly.

“I didn’t. I just…I…” I stammer and pick my nails. His voice is so soft and understanding when he says:

“I know. It's hard…for everybody. But I'm so happy you are here now. How is my mom? I heard you visit her as often as possible.” Now I look up into his eyes. He is leaning over as close as he can without getting called out.

I smell soap, but it's different than usual; he usually smells of coffee, sandalwood, or sometimes detergent, but never of cheap soap. Our eyes meet, and I can't look away. Neither can he. Despite my fear of looking into his eyes, I can't see hurt or sorrow. Just love and that he deeply cares for me.

“I miss you, and I am so sorry I can’t do more for you right now. We are trying everything we can… I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and his eyes soften even more.

“I’ll survive. I know you are doing your best out there. I trust you, and I trust the team with my life. Just please… Visit more often… It eases me to see and talk to you. I miss you so much.” I nod in agreement and shoot him an honest smile.

“Okay, will do. About your mom, she is fine. I saw her yesterday, went for a walk, and ate ice cream at your favorite spot. She asks about you a lot; we agreed on telling her you are on a vacation at the beach. You don't need to worry about her; we got her.” I answer his previous question. He smiles at me and nods, relieved.

“Thank you, how are you?” I shrug my shoulders.

“I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about, Spence.” His face twitches when he hears his nickname.

“Tell me about your activities; you always do so much outside of work. I miss you telling me about it after the weekend.” Usually I meet my friends or visit them, doing fun stuff at the beach or hiking the mountains, going to concerts. But since he is here… I didn't do anything; I was just trying to work on the case like everybody else, but I know I can't tell him that, so I make some things up. I tell him about a hike I supposedly did with some friends and about a team gathering at Rossi's that actually never happened. He smiles and listens carefully, happy to have something else to think about than his situation.

“Visiting hour is over; inmates line up,” the guard yells, and I kind of panic. This can't be it! It was way too short. Spencer gets up, looking down at me. Now I notice how thin he got; I mean, he was always lean, but he has lost some weight. His cheeks are sunken, and his hair is long and combed back, disheveled. His hands are cuffed with a chain, which is connected to his feet. It clinks as he moves.

“It was good seeing you… so good… Don't worry, I'm going to be fine. Love you,” he whispers and walks out of the room. My eyes follow him closely, watching him disappear through the glass door, my eyes filling with tears I held back the whole time. I cover my face with my hands, sobbing and not seeing him turning around and watching me with sorrow. I try to still process him saying “Love you.”

When I get back to my car, I break completely. I sit there at least 20 minutes, crying for my friend, who is hurting inside these damn walls.

A few weeks later we finally manage to get him out and clear his name. When we get the notice, that he is ready to get picked up, we all get in the cars. I take his go bag from his locker so he has some clothes to change into. I'm so excited to get him outside of this hell. I have visited him in the last weeks a couple of times; we didn't talk so much; mostly I just comforted him by being there.

When we arrive at the prison, we send in JJ as his longest and closest friend to get him. It takes nearly an hour before we see her blonde head appear in the door of the facility. All of us are waiting eagerly for them to get out of the gate. Spence is wearing his usual attire: a button-down shirt, tie, cardigan, and slacks, and his Chucks. He looks nearly normal; despite his weight loss and longer hair, he even shaved.

Penelope is the first one to hug him; he nods at something she says to him, and I look at JJ's red-rimmed eyes. She definitely cried. Rossi hugs Spencer like a dad, and he buries his head on his shoulder.

Before anyone else can get ahold of him, I step closer. We smile at each other, stopping for a second, remembering how bad we both wanted to hug each time in prison. He pulls me into his chest, my arms wrapping around his waist. We clutch one another like drowning sailors clutch to a lifebuoy.

“God, I missed this,” he whispers, and I smile, pressing my face into his shoulder. “Me too.” He rubs my back and kisses my cheek.

We step away from each other, and I look into his eyes for a split second, seeing them swimming with tears. He chuckles embarrassedly and wipes his eyes. The rest of the team hugs him as well, then we decide to get him back to his home so he can see his mom.

At the BAU he asks me if I could get him home, and I nod—of course. We say our goodbyes; Prentiss advises him to take some time off for his mom and himself. He gets into my car, and I start driving through the city.

“This is surreal. Being out here again when I thought I wouldn’t see the light of day again,” he murmurs, watching people walking the streets, laughing, rushing home. I pat his thigh, and he is turning his head to face me.

“I told you, we were going to get you out.” He grabs my hand and holds it for the rest of the drive. When I stop in front of his apartment building, he stares at it in disbelief, still holding my hand.

I open my door, slowly retreating my hand from his, and get out of my car. He does the same and grabs his bag from the backseat.

“Do you want to come with me? I’m actually a bit scared,” he admits, and I’m unsure. I don’t want to intrude on his reunion with his mom, but he genuinely seems scared.

“Sure, I can come for a few minutes.” He looks relieved, and I follow him upstairs to his apartment. He unlocks the door and enters his apartment, with me directly behind him.

“Spencer!” I hear his mom, and I am so relieved she remembers him right now. They hug tightly, and I smile at the sight of him finally hugging his mom again.

“Y/N, good to see you again,” she says over his shoulder to me, and I smile at her.

“You too, Mrs. Reid.” They loosen their grip on each other, and his mom starts telling him everything she did, and he laughs. The first time since we picked him up, he laughs from his heart. I tear up when I hear the familiar sound.

“Do you want some tea?” he asks me, smiling. I shake my head.

“No thank you, I’ve got to go actually… You two need some time alone.” He steps closer, grabbing my hands. His eyes are soft; he doesn't want me to go, but he understands that I just want them to have time to catch up.

“Thank you…for everything,” he says, but I shake my head.

“Of course, Spencer. You are my friend; I would do anything for you… we all would.”

“I know…likewise. But seeing you sitting in that booth kept me sane and going. You were my anchor…you are.” I turn bright red and look at our hands, holding each other. His thumbs caressing the back of my hands.

“I’m glad I could give you some hope. Now spend your time with your mom, and if you want, we can grab some coffee in the next couple days.” He smiles and nods.

“I’d like that.” I hug him once again and wish both of them a good night before I step out, leaving him with his mom.

The next day I get a call from him around midday.

“Hey, how was your night?” I ask him as soon as I pick up.

“It was good; my mom and I talked a lot. And I slept like a baby in my own bed; it's still surreal. But I wanted to ask…if…you suggested coffee yesterday, right?” “Yeah, sure. Where do you want to meet?” “Actually… I ehm… I would like to turn coffee into dinner, if you don’t mind.” I sit up from my couch. He wants to take me to dinner?

“Eh…sure. Did you ask the others too?” “N-No, I thought I’d just take you out… just us catching up. I mean, I could ask the others, of course, if you're uncomfortable going with me alone. That's really no prob—“ I cut him off.

“No, no. I'm not uncomfortable… just surprised. I’d love to have dinner with you.” “Great! I… I’ll pick you up at 7.30.” He hangs up, sounding so excited for later. I giggle and start getting ready immediately. I'm so nervous about going to dinner with Spencer.

I change my outfit at least three times, putting on makeup and doing my hair. I put it in a low bun, put in my contacts, and carefully pick jewelry. I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror. The dress is simple but pretty. It's dark red, tight-fitted, and just looks great. I'm happy with myself.

A knock on the door signals that I have to go. I open the door; Spencer is standing there, smiling. He looks…just great. His hair is still a bit unruly, but his eyes are warm and soft, his smile is comforting, and I can smell his familiar scent that I missed so much. No longer cheap prison soap. He wears a black tuxedo, a white button-up shirt, and a dark red tie. Matching with my dress. I laugh and point at it.

“Matching, huh? You look so handsome.” His cheeks flush, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi… You look pretty, too. Just stunning.” I smile at him, slip into my shoes, and grab my purse. He offers me his arm and leads me to his old-timer, which I absolutely love.

He reserved a table at a cute little restaurant in Washington, where he led me inside.

“Hello, a table for two. The name is Reid,” he says to the waitress, and she leads us to a small table in the corner, where Spence pulls out the chair for me.

“Thank you,” I say and take a seat. He unbuttons his blazer and sits across from me.

“I’m so happy you agreed to go to dinner with me,” he says and rests his hands on the table. I grab them and smile at him while I look him straight in the eyes.

“Of course, Spencer. I love spending time with you, and I missed you so much.” He smiles widely and nods.

“I missed you too, you know that.” The waitress takes our orders, and while we get our drinks and cheers to each other, chatting about everything and anything, we get lost in our own little bubble.

It's light and a little flirty; we both enjoy our food and the wine. I feel him looking at me for longer periods of time. He even sometimes touches my hands, and I love seeing him laugh. I love seeing his eyes squeezing, the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the small smile lines on his mouth.

“What is it?” he asks, flustered, and rubs his face with his hand. I chuckle and shake my head lightly. “Nothing, I just…like watching you laugh.” His cheeks flush, and he looks down at his hands.

“Actually, Spence… I have a question.” I take all of my courage to start with this when the waitress asks us if we want anything else. I shake my head, and Spence asks for the check.

He pays for both of us without hesitation and walks me out of the restaurant. It's a bit chilly, and he immediately takes off his blazer and wraps it around my shoulders. His smell hits me hard. I feel kind of dizzy and loved, taken care of. My heart is pounding when he looks into my eyes, his hands still on my arms.

“Thank you,” I whisper and take everything in. His smell, his closeness, and his hands on my arms.

“You’re welcome. You wanted to ask me something inside?” I nod.

“When I visited you for the first time, you remember that?” He smiles at me, squeezing my arms lightly.

“Of course. You wore a red shirt and black pants, your makeup was flawless, like today, and the one thing that took my breath completely away when you sat opposite to me in that damn prison…was your smell. I never knew someone could miss someone's smell as much as I missed yours. This visit saved me; how could I ever forget it?” His eyes are so soft and so close. He remembers everything. Of course he does.

“Yeah, that day…when you had to go…you said something to me.” He nods and slowly cups my cheek with his hand, caressing the soft skin with his thumb.

“It was good seeing you… so good… Don't worry, I'm going to be fine. Love you,” he repeats his exact words.

“Yes…why?” He knows what I mean.

“Because I do.” The explanation is so simple yet it makes so much sense at the same time. His eyes switch to my lips, my cheek still pressed against his soft hand. I can't really answer him; I just look at his beautiful face in awe. He licks his lips and steps closer.

“May I…” His voice is raspy, and I just nod. Yes, please. Kiss me, finally.

He moves slowly at first, almost reverent, like he’s afraid I might vanish—like this is a dream he’s had too many times to trust that it’s real now. But then his hands lift, trembling just slightly, and he cups my face in his palms. His fingers splay along my jaw, thumbs brushing the soft skin beneath my cheekbones. They’re warm. Grounding. Like he needs to touch me just to be sure I’m real.

He leans in, and my breath catches.

I rise onto my toes, my hands finding the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric like I can hold him there—not just for this moment, but for every moment that’s still to come.

When our lips meet, it’s nothing like I imagined in all those lonely nights—it’s more. His lips are soft but certain, moving with a slowness that speaks of years of restraint, breaking over me like waves that have finally reached the shore. His breath catches when I kiss him back—really kiss him—and it feels like every moment we’ve held back is pouring into this one.

Every glance, every unspoken confession, every time I stood too close or pulled away too fast—it’s all here, in the way his mouth moves with mine, in the way he finally lets himself feel it.

He makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and then his hand slides into my hair, cradling the base of my skull. He deepens the kiss, and I tilt my head slightly, parting my lips just enough to taste him—to taste everything we’ve denied ourselves for so long.

His lips are warm, almost trembling, and the longer we stay like this—connected, breathing into each other—the more I feel his breath mixing with mine, his heartbeat thudding fast against my chest. His curls brush my forehead as he leans into me, close enough that I feel like I’m melting into him.

I never want to let go.

When we finally part, it’s not a full step back—just a breath, just enough to look at each other. His eyes are glassy, wide with something like wonder, like awe. He looks at me like I’m the first thing he’s ever really seen.

“That… was worth every minute of waiting,” he says, voice rough with emotion.

I’m still on my toes, still holding onto his shirt like I might fall if I let go. My lips tingle. My heart is racing. And somewhere deep inside me, something releases — something that’s been held tight for far too long.

I smile and let my fingers slide up to trace along his jaw. “It was worth everything.”

Masterlist

[myothertardisisonthemun]

I have been time traveling. My phone has photos dated from the future

The problem is now to get to any photos I've just taken, I have to scroll down

[picklesplitz]

What a dumb little space creature... Kinda looks like me ...

Anyway hi guys I made my dandy's world oc into my avatar on Roblox . Nautie the astronaut is real.

Bonus some pics of Nautie in the wild

[faaun]

ive talked to a lot of ppl who have taken vyvanse now and i think ik a bit more on how i need to live on it

[mifunebooty]

I will survive my 6 month streak curse of being in love and having the mega hots for Robert Mitchum

[autumnrory]

woooo my niece took 5 of my 13 lego sets, one of which was one of the three larger ones, so that's one huge box out of the way and i'm just glad she wanted them because like they ARE twenty years old and they look fine ofc but sometimes kids aren't gonna want stuff that isn't new and shiny ya know, but she did seem to want everything which would've been fine with me but i knew there was no way they would take all that with them, and at least i still have stuff of my own to sell, plus should get at least a cut of my brother's stuff for doing the inventory and putting together that stuff that wasn't already done

[eccentriccryptid]

.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

packing instruments is the worst <3

[baekuras]

Moved most my boxes of clothes(work) inside now and also all shoes I had out (altho i am p sure there are more hiding <.<)

now i just gotta sort all the funky shit i never wear, then move the box of scraps out and still figure out wtf to do with the BIG box of clothes I have never worn or never will wear again

but not today bc i am tired

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 5

A/N: Thank you for the 1,000 followers! That’s kinda crazy but I guess I shouldn’t underestimate the kpop fandom. Anyways, you guys voted so all the Saja Boys will be getting the trauma but it kinda turned into trauma bonding…? Let me know what you think of their backstories, I tried hard to get the right balance of ‘I-need-this-and-I-want-it-desperately’ and ‘I-later-feel-shame-or-guilt-for-this’ while also keeping to their individual personalities.

This part is kinda long because we finally get to the reader actually singing! I was tempted to use ‘Free’ from kpdh but that’s Rumi and Jinu’s song and it didn’t fit the MC’s feelings and thoughts so I had to find a song that fit.

Speaking of, thanks to @ghastlyjewel67-blog for the inspiration for the second song!

Edit (7/11/25): Please do not steal or plagiarize my work, I worked hard on this series and have a lot of pride in it.

TW: Self mutilation (scratching), toxic parental figure (thanks Celine), death threat (just a little), insecurity and low self esteem.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Interlude || Part 6 || Part 7

Word Count: 5,661

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

“(Y/n)?” You looked up at the call of your name. Oh yeah. You were trying to get some air so you went for a walk.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” You asked the group of disguised Saja Boys numbly. Or, maybe it wasn’t that you felt numb at that moment, but you were actually feeling too much at once.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Chungae asked softly. You didn’t know why they seemed to have such worried looks on their faces as they joined you on the bench, Chungae on your right, Hyeon on your left, Jum on Hyeon’s left, and Kwan and Jinu crouching in front of you.

What you also didn’t know was that they had scrambled to the park as soon as they had learned from Derpy and the bird that you were in the park, distressed.

“Nothing, I’m fine boys,” You tried to reassure them, smiling at them.

Then Hyeon silently reached towards your face, his finger gently swiping your cheek and pulling away to show the tears that had gathered on his finger.

Surprised, you reached up to your own face and realized that it was wet. ‘Had you really been crying?’

As if you realizing you were crying had opened the floodgates, your body shuddered as you tried to laugh and wipe your face, “Oh.”

Chungae and Hyeon pulled you into their arms, Jum reached over to hold your hand and squeezed it comfortingly, Kwan and Jinu rested their hands on your legs, letting them know they were there with you.

“I’m sorry,” You couldn’t help but apologize. “I just… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Don’t apologize, babe,” Kwan said, squeezing your thigh lightly.

“Never apologize for what you feel,” Hyeon growled softly, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“Just… tell us what you’re thinking about,” Jinu softly recommended.

The tears came faster and you shook harder. It felt like all that was keeping you together was the feeling of the five boys around you. “I… I don’t want the Honmoon to be completed…!” You choked out, your body shaking and the air in your lungs stuttering as you tried to breathe through your crying.

With a soft surge of demon magic, you were somewhere else, an apartment on a couch with the boys in the same position as before. They thought you would want a little privacy right now…

Being with the boys, surrounding you with safety and comfort, helped you to feel safe enough to open up the chest of shame and weakness you kept locked in your chest. “If the girls seal the Honmoon, I don’t think I’ll be allowed to stay on this side of the barrier. And I’ve given everything… for the Honmoon to be completed because that’s what’s always been expected of me. I’ve given my blood, sweat, tears, my dreams, my soul for it but it’s never. Been. Enough.”

The boys couldn’t help but hold you closer, their hearts clenching at the sight of you so… distraught? Broken? In despair? Whatever the word for it was, they hated it.

They wanted to d̴̮̗̟̱̆̆̈́ē̵̥͎̠̮͊̽̍́̃̋͘s̵̱̅͛̇̉̈́͜ṯ̵̾ŗ̴̲̘͋ọ̴͕̙͒̎̆ý̵̡̱̠̻̟̰̹͈̕̕ whatever it was that was making you so sad but they couldn’t.

All they could do was hold you together in their own tainted hands and listen.

“And I don’t want to lose any of you either,” You continued, the words and the tears coming faster, “But I think the worst part is that I’m afraid that if I tell Rumi or the other girls that I like the part of my father that I have, the part that loved a Hunter that was meant to kill him? I’ll be betraying them, and my Aunt Celine, and my mother’s memory…”

They were quiet. What could they say to comfort you? To reassure you that you were so much better than them? They, who were nothing but monsters in the dark, made up of their own mistakes and shame.

“When I was human,” Jinu spoke softly, squeezing your ankle as he looked down to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “My family was poor and the only thing I had to my name was a bipa so I busked the streets to make money, try and give my mom and sister a better life. But it didn’t get me anywhere, and that was when I first heard Gwi Ma. His power, it changed my life overnight. But it came at a cost. When I was welcomed into the palace by the emperor for my singing, my mother and sister were cast away. I left them. And still, I ate my fill everyday, sleeping comfortably in silk blankets until the patterns started spreading and dragged me to the demon realm to serve under Gwi Ma.”

The other boys shared small glances with each other. And then, Hyeon spoke, “I… I was… insecure. I had someone I loved but I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t enough. I wanted more. We would go on walks together and other people would approach her and I would be pushed to the wayside. So, Gwi Ma made me beautiful and I finally felt like I had her attention. I was so happy and I couldn’t help but want more and more. She left me, and not long after, the patterns took over. That’s why, I don’t like showing my face anymore…”

You nuzzled your head against Hyeon’s to give him comfort and his lips quirked up appreciatively.

Kwan sighed, “I wasn’t entirely honest when I told you my deal with Gwi Ma… Yeah, I wanted strength after I lost my family. But I didn’t want it to protect, I wanted it to destroy. I became the strongest so I could desecrate those that killed my family… I became a monster. Even now, I still feel like that same beast sometimes.”

You didn’t like the self deprecating look he had—hypocritical, you know—so you nudged him with your foot softly. He looked up and the two of you shared soft, sad smiles.

Chungae grimaced, pulling away from you slightly, “I’m kind of like Hyeon… I lived with my relatives who were matchmakers and so I was surrounded by love all the time. But it never felt like it was directed at me. So, as I got older and no one showed interest in me, I started getting jealous. I wanted to love and be loved so badly, I didn’t understand why no one loved me. Gwi Ma helped me and, suddenly, people were clamoring for my love, some even fighting each other for it. I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t until the patterns took over.”

You pulled him back close, leaning your head against his shoulder as you held his hand with the one Jum wasn’t holding.

Jum rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t have the same backstory as you guys, I was born in the demon realm, y’know. I’ve never known any different. I guess… if anything, I wish I was born a human in the first place. I wish I didn’t have to leech off the souls of others just to sustain myself.”

It was quiet as the six of you processed what was shared. You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Wow. What a big mess we are.” You smiled when it got a few light laughs, the tear tracks starting to dry. “Did you guys know, I wanted to be a singer when I was younger?”

They blinked at the sudden change of topic but followed along as it made your smile grow from sad to some broken reflection of joy. “Why didn’t you?” Jinu asked curiously.

You shook your head, “My Aunt Celine told me it was a useless skill for me.” You rolled your eyes, “Focus on supporting your sister and protecting her secret, she said.”

Kwan scoffed, scowling, “What a load of bull.”

You hummed neutrally in response, “Maybe.”

Jum leaned over to you, “Will you sing something for us?”

Your face flushed suddenly, “Wait, what?”

Chungae nodded in agreement to Jum’s request, “Yeah, please (Y/n)?”

Hyeon nuzzled closer as well, obviously he wanted you to sing too. Jinu and Kwan looked at each other in fond amusement. The five had known each other for at least a century, but they had never felt as close with each other as they did right now with you.

You sighed, “Alright fine.” You looked up in thought, your head tilted back to rest against the back of the couch. Then you closed your eyes and opened your mouth.

“Tell me once again~ I could have been anyone, anyone else~ Before you made the choice for me~ My feet knew the path~ We walked in the dark, in the dark~ I never gave a single thought to where it might lead~”

Your voice wasn’t professional after years of neglect, the vocal training your aunt had given you long depleted. But it was soft and it was sweet and it was raw. It was you. The boys could feel each emotion you put into the song and they couldn’t help but gravitate closer to you.

“All those empty rooms~ We could have been anywhere, anywhere else~ Instead, I made a bed with agony~ My heart knew the weight~ Ten years worth of dust and neglect~ We made our peace with weariness and let it be~”

As you sang, your chest warmed as the song spilled from your lips. It felt right, like something that had jarred a long time ago was finally slotting back into place.

“The moon will sing a song for me~ I loved you like the sun~ Bore the shadows that you made~ With no light of my own~ I shine only with the light you gave me~ I shine only with the light you gave me~”

You wanted to cry again. Was this really how you felt about Rumi and your Aunt Celine all this time? Deep in your heart?

“Name your courage now~ We could have had anything, anything else~ Instead, you hoarded all that's left of me~ Swallowin' your doubt~ Like swords to the pit of my belly~ I want to feel the fire that you kept from me~”

The boys listened closely to every note that spilled from your lips. Because music was probably the language they understood best now. They couldn’t help but ache for you. The longing and the heartache and the bittersweet love you sang of.

“The moon will sing a song for me~ I loved you like the sun~ Bore the shadows that you made~ With no light of my own~ I shine only with the light you gave me~ I shine only with the light you gave me~ I shine only with the light you gave me~ (I could have been anyone, anyone)~ I shine only with the light you gave me~ (I could have been anyone, anyone)~”

The last notes faded into the silence of the apartment. The boys moved closer, surrounding you in their love and appreciation.

“That was… beautiful, (Y/n),” Jinu complimented you softly.

“Sing more often,” Hyeon commented, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent.

You laughed softly, your heart more settled now. You were still nervous for the Honmoon to be sealed, but right now? Your boys were surrounding you in a bubble of warmth and safety.

”Thank you, boys…”

~~~

It was time. The Idol Awards had come.

You had come back to the tower that morning to see the girls already awake and in the living area.

“(Y/n)!” Zoey greeted you energetically so early in the morning. “Where have you been? We all agreed that Takedown wasn’t the right song for sealing the Honmoon, so we’re going to be performing Golden tonight!”

You froze. You would be happy to never listen to Takedown again but on the other hand… All your hardwork for their outfits and visuals: down the drain…

Your smile strained, the relaxed feeling in your chest lingering from your time with the boys faltering. You felt like scratching the bandages Jinu had carefully reapplied over your arms this morning. “Oh. Great. I’m just gonna go… replace your Takedown outfits with the Golden ones.”

You turned to go to their wardrobe. The girls grimaced as they watched you go. Oops…

“Sorry, (Y/n)!” Rumi called after you, feeling bad that she had inadvertently given you more work this morning.

Rumi should talk to you, she knew that. But the deal she made with Jinu wouldn’t directly affect you, it was between her and him. It wasn’t worth adding more stress to your plate. She was going to protect you.

So here you were, hours later at the Idol Awards stage. You were waiting in the girl’s dressing room, the girls having joined you a little bit ago as you waited for the Saja Boys to perform first. Bobby was keeping track of everything, waiting to get the girls for their cue.

You couldn’t help but side eye Mira as she whaled on a punching bag with a poster of abs on it. “I. Hate. Abs!” She raged. You looked away. ‘Okayyyy then… They must’ve run into the boys on the way here…’

Suddenly, Bobby burst into the room, “Girls, the Saja Boys are fighting.”

You gasped, your chest tightening as you swallowed thickly. ‘What could they possibly be fighting about?’ You thought worriedly. You hoped they wouldn’t hurt each other and that they would be alright.

“That means you're on now!”

“Okay. This is it. For the fans,” Rumi took the lead, the three of them smiling while you couldn’t help but scratch your arm anxiously, your mind still stuck on the boys. The girls huddled and you remained on the sidelines.

“For the world.”

“For us.”

Bobby led the charge out of the dressing room and towards the stage, “Yes! We win this, and then we celebrate with Itaewon corn dogs!”

You followed Rumi out, unable to help but call after her, “Wait, Rumi!”

She turned to you, fixing her microphone. “What is it, (Y/n)?”

‘Please don’t seal the Honmoon. I’m scared. I don’t want to do this. Please don’t take them away from me.’

You smiled at her, hoping it wasn’t as broken as it felt. “You’re gonna do great. You’ve got this.”

Rumi smiled softly, taking your hand, “Thank (Y/n). Come on.”

Your smile fell as Rumi turned and you quietly followed her. Why did you have to be such a coward?

The girls took their places and you felt your chance to stop them slipping through your fingers like sand. You followed Bobby to the screen showing the livestream of the performance, he noticed your down energy.

“Hey, don’t worry, (Y/n), they got this! They’re gonna do great!” He tried to reassure you.

You gave him a small smile, “Thanks Bobby.” You turned back to the screen.

“I was a ghost, I was alone, hah~ 어두워진, hah, 압길속에 (Ah)~Given the throne, I didn't know how to believe~ I was the queen that I'm meant to be~ I lived two lives, tried to play both sides~ But I couldn't find my own place~ Called a problem child 'cause I got too wild~ But now that's how I'm getting paid, 끝없이 on stage~”

The girls started off perfectly, their choreography on point and their vocals hitting every note. Bobby was following along next to you, doing the choreography and mouthing the lyrics as he did. You couldn’t blame him, you usually did it too when the two of you were watching the girls perform together. But today, your mind was too occupied…

“I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin' like I'm born to be~ We dreamin' hard, we came so far, now I believe~”

Zoey and Mira swiftly exited the stage to give Rumi her solo, everything going according to plan.

“We're goin' up, up, up, it's our moment~ You know together we're glowing~ Gonna be, gonna be golden~ Oh, up, up, up with our voices~ 영원히 깨질 수 없는~ Gonna be, gonna be golden~”

Rumi went up on the gold aerial ring, swinging over the crowd as she sang. Bobby cheered as we watched her perform, “Yes, Rumi’s crushing it!” Rumi landed on stage again, but as she was about to finish the post-chorus, the lights on stage went out.

You blinked, turning to Bobby who was checking his clipboard with confusion. “Bobby, what’s going on?”

He shook his head, looking back up at the screen with a concerned furrow in his brow, “I don’t know. Is that Takedown?” And yeah, you would know that opening anywhere. It was definitely the intro to the diss track.

Mira and Zoey were suddenly next to Rumi as soon as the lights went up, Rumi being the professional she was, immediately went into the choreo for the song despite obviously being surprised.

“So sweet, so easy on the eyes, but hideous on the inside~ Whole life spreading lies, but you can't hide, baby, nice try~ I'm 'bout to switch up these vibes, I finally opened my eyes~ It's time to kick you straight back into the night~”

You frown when Mira and Zoey break from the choreo, pushing at Rumi’s shoulders as they start circling your sister with nasty smiles and dark eyes.

“Why? No,” Bobby whispered, just as alarmed as you at the sudden turn on Rumi by the other girls.

“‘Cause I see your real face and it's ugly as sin~ Time to put you in your place 'cause you're rotten within~ When your patterns start to show~ It makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins~”

You gasped as Mira and Zoey started grabbing at the jacket covering Rumi’s arms. Your stomach dropped and your heart went up your throat. ‘They knew…?’ And Rumi was just as horrified, covering her arms as Mira and Zoey tossed the tatters of her jacket aside.

“I don't think you're ready for the takedown~ Break you into pieces in a world of pain 'cause you're all the same~ Yeah, it's a takedown~ A demon with no feelings, don't deserve to live, it's so obvious~”

Mira and Zoey got up in Rumi’s face, saying something that the microphones couldn’t pick up. But it made Rumi distressed as she pulled at her hair and frantically tried to cover herself until she finally screamed.

“Ś̸̢̬̭̓̿̋͗T̸̥̓͋̂̉̎̕͘O̸̝͔̗̬̯͉̼̥̲̓͜O̶̰̭͍͉̥͍̜̻̝̪̔͐ͅO̸̡̢͉͍̬͇̝͓̾̂Ó̶͓̗̬̓̂̍̿͑̑͝Ō̴̯̯̒P̵̢̻̟̺̙͎̠͔̝̦͛̈́͗̅͊̈̑͘͝!”

You got the glimpse of her patterns glowing as they spread up her neck and to her face before the power of the building was taken out, the lights shattering as the screen went black. But you could still feel the power of Rumi’s voice reverberating in your chest.

For a long moment, all you could do was stare blankly in horrified silence. Rumi’s secret was out. Mira and Zoey found out and exposed her…

“(Y/n), did you know about Rumi’s…” Bobby searched for the right word, “Marks?”

“We were born with them,” was all you could tell him, still stuck on processing what had just happened. They had scorned Rumi.

‘What would they do to you then?’ Your mind hissed.

You shook yourself from your despair, “I have to go find Rumi!”

Bobby called after you as you took off, “Wait, do you even know where you’re going?! (Y/n)—!” He was distracted by his phone going off with a notification.

~~~

You were lost. You had run in a random direction because you didn’t know where the stage entrances were and now you regretted it. You could hear your sister yelling in the distance and then a guy yelling back. Was that Jinu? A pulse of demon energy went out around you, the familiar power of your sister vibrating in your chest so you followed it.

“Rumi!” You turned a corner to see your sister standing by herself. “Rumi! Are you okay?!” A stupid question but it was the first one on the tip of your tongue.

“Go away, (Y/n).”

You didn’t listen, worried and scared for both yourself and her. “Rumi, it'll be fine!” You tried to smile and reassure her but it just made you look manic you were sure. You reached out a hand to her shoulder to turn her around to look at you, “We just gotta explain that—“

”I said, g̸̳̯̙̜̈́͌̿ơ̴̪̝̳͚̲̔̇̓̋͝ ̴̠̺̯̾̀͌́͛͘͜a̶̜̬̗͓̓ẘ̶̛̥̞̠̠͝a̷̮̹̼̻̣̾͗̒̿y̵͔͕̝̺͇͒́̕̚,̵͔̣͐͆͆͆̎ ̷̫̼̼͍̼͚͊͝͝(̴̠̤͛͐̒͋̚͜͠Y̷̗͇̫̺̪̼̌̍/̸̯̥̱̕n̴̫̖̅̃)̶̗̩̲̬̂̄!”

Rumi turned, her voice pulsing out as she swung her hand. Her now clawed nails caught on your face and raked across your cheek, from your left ear almost to your nose. In shock and surprise of the sudden pain, you fell back.

“Rumi…?”

Rumi turned. And left. Demon magic trailing her every step as it consumed the Honmoon behind her. And you were left in its debris without a second look.

No. No no no no no n̵̺͍͆o̷̭̮̓…̸̟͇̹̽

“Rumi…!”

She didn’t turn around and she faded into the shadows.

“Don’t leave me…”

~~~

“Girls!”

“Not now Bobby,” Mira growled weakly, Zoey still numb beside her.

Bobby didn’t listen, running up to them, “What was that out there? Was it because of the new scandal with (Y/n)?”

His words shook Mira and Zoey from their feelings of betrayal, shaking their heads to look at him. “Wait, what?”

Bobby frowned, “Uh, yeah. The PR team just notified me.” He held up his phone which Mira quickly snatched. “Some blog just posted a bunch of photos of (Y/n) and the Saja Boys…”

Mira scrolled through the page, Zoey looking over her shoulder. And there they were. Pictures of you and the individual boys, walking in the park, eating at cafes, restaurants, food stalls, sitting and listening to music together, the arcade, it kept going on. But the real kicker was the last picture. You were on a park bench, surrounded by all the boys, leaning on each other and basking in their presence. You looked happy with them. Intimate.

Mira growled, clenching Bobby’s phone in her hand, “That—that… Traitor!” Mira shoved the phone back in Bobby’s arms and stomped away, the feeling of betrayal echoing deeper in her chest like a chasm.

“Mira, wait!” Zoey chased after her, her own feelings of betrayal and hurt being pushed down in favor of going after Mira.

“Wait, girls!” Bobby called after them but he was left behind.

~~~

You sniffed, trying to keep your tears to a minimum. If anyone could help you find Rumi, it was Zoey and Mira. You just had to explain to them that it wasn’t Rumi’s fault, that she just wanted to be normal and go with them to the bathhouse.

“Mira, Zoey!” You spotted them near one of the exits. Your skin was on fire, you were desperate to scratch for relief but you couldn’t, not when Rumi needed help.

“Thank goodness I found you!” You smiled in relief, “Look, I need your guys’ help to find, Rumi, she disappeared and she was in a really bad state. And I know what happened on stage, but she—“

“(Y/n) stop. Just stop pretending!” You were cut off by Mira’s demands.

“Mira?”

Mira had just wanted to leave. She just wanted to mourn her broken family in peace but you just had to show up. “Stop pretending to be on our side.”

“What?” You tilted your head at her, confused about what was going on. Was this because you were part demon too? You looked at Zoey to try and understand what Mira meant but the younger girl just looked away from you with a hard expression. “I am on your side.”

“Oh yeah? So why have you been hanging out with the Saja Boys? Looked real cozy to me,” Mira crossed her arms, moving into your space.

You blinked. How did they know about that? “Wait what?” You shook your head, the important thing was that they knew now. “Okay, yeah, I’ve been hanging out with them but—“

“But what, (Y/n)?! You’re choosing the demons over us? Did you even want the Honmoon to be sealed?”

You couldn’t answer her, swallowing thickly as you looked down shamefully.

“That’s what I thought. Go away, traitor. If you choose to fight on Gwi Ma’s side, then next time we see you… we’ll have to kill you,” Mira turned and left you there. Zoey looked at you and you pleaded at her with your eyes but she made her choice. She followed after Mira.

~~~

You had one more hope left.

Aunt Celine lives in the outskirts of the city, in the middle of a forest. It was a secret place where Hunters had been trained for centuries. Aunt Celine had raised you and Rumi so surely she would have a solution now.

You ran. You ran as fast as you could and then you noticed you were running faster than was possible for a human. Had your patterns spread that much? Tears were dripping but you wiped at them to keep your vision clear. Not yet. Don’t lose hope yet.

You made it in record time. The house was dark so you made your way to the one other place she could be. The old tree with the ribbons of past Hunters hung from its branches.

“Aunt Celine!” You cried, tears dripping down your cheeks.

Aunt Celine was on her knees before the tree, a distraught look on her face. Her eyes were wide but she had a look like she was a thousand miles away. “Leave (Y/n).”

“Please Aunt Celine, you have to help me find Rumi. I don’t know who else to go to! I don’t know what to do anymore, please!” You pleaded with her, falling to your knees in front of her so you could take her hands in yours.

She pulled her hands from yours, standing and backing away from you, a frown on her face as she avoided looking at you. She never could stand looking at you.

“You can’t do anything, child. You failed.” Her words stabbed into your chest, leaving you struggling for breath. “You failed in protecting Rumi’s secret. I knew you were more like your father. I should have thrown you out when we found out you couldn’t connect to the Honmoon.”

As Celine stumbled away, weak on her feet as she left you behind, always being left behind. You could only stare sightlessly at where she had been. Your heart was pounding in your ears, only a little louder than the sound of your own haggard breathing.

Why…?

You had hoped that they would accept you. Always. Mira. Zoey. Rumi. Celine.

Why?

That you could be happy one day to just be yourself and do what you want to do.

Why?

That you could be loved and accepted for who you are, demon patterns and all.

Why?

Why couldn’t they comfort you and stay? Keep your heart safe? After all you’ve done, helping them become who they are, cooking and cleaning for them, supporting them from the background, giving up your dream for them, pushing down who you are, why can’t they just see you?

Ẃ̷̛̞̩͖̥̲̜̭̩͉̹͉͎͔͚̲̖̙̝̮̅͌͐̆͋̑̈͗̏͝͠h̵̛̭̪̝͖̬̀͂̂̃̇̀̅͊̀̈́͊̑ͅy̷̛̰̭͓̫̗̭͍͎͔̭̺͔͍̖̭̩̯̯͉̓͌͐̉͆̈́̇͆̔͗̑͋̇͒̆̑̚̕̕͠͝?̷̥͍̭͖̭͚̫̲͖̦̑̈́̈́̓̋̇͛̈́͠

~~~

The boys were quiet as they waited for the time of their final performance. They stood around the roof of a building, watching the crowds of people march towards the Namsan tower. They would have to return to Gwi Ma soon but they couldn’t help but feel heavy. Even with the success of their mission so close at hand, the prize they worked hard to gain for Jinu, their minds lingered on you.

They didn’t know what backlash you had gotten from them exposing Rumi’s demon patterns to the world. And then they had deepened the feeling of betrayal in the two Hunters by leaking those photos of you and them. They felt guilty. They didn’t want to hurt you, just the Hunters. But Gwi Ma threatened to increase the volume of the whispers in their head when they wavered after you spent the night at their apartment.

Because when they were with you, vulnerable and open to each other, they hadn’t heard a single whisper, none of them. And that was precious to them. It gave them hope for themselves, that maybe they didn’t have to go through with Gwi Ma’s plan. But that hope was crushed. Turned to ash by Gwi Ma’s threats.

Hyeon turned when he heard the soft poof of demon magic, gasping when he saw you standing on the roof. “Princess?” He called softly and the other boys turned as well, their faces falling at the sight of you in the state you were in.

Your hair was wind blown, your eyes red. The nice clothes you had worn for the Idol Awards did nothing to hide the glow of your demon patterns beneath them. There was a bleeding scratch across the left side of your face, stretching from your ear almost to your nose. One of your eyes reflected the too familiar demon color of their own. Your face was blank. Withdrawn.

“(Y/n)…” Chungae called softly, the five of them gathering in front of you, hesitating to reach out to you. But what right did they have to touch you anymore?

“Please don’t leave me. Leave me alone.”

They frowned at your words, fists tightening at their sides. What a terrible temptation your words gave them.

“Babe,” Kwan sighed regretfully, “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t care.”

“Princess,” Hyeon tried to reason with her even though it sent a dagger through his heart to try and push her away. “We betrayed you.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Jinu snapped, his own regret and guilt getting to him, “We’re the ones that exposed that you were spending time with us! We made the scandal! We betrayed you—!”

“I don’t C̶̨̡̰̯̥̪͙̠͙̹̘̺̈́͂̋̾Ȧ̵̠̖̠̲̮̤̣̭̮̥̱͗̆̓̈́R̵̮̱̖͚͙̬͐́͂̈́͛͊E̶̩̲̰̬̱̎ͅ!̷̨̧̜̺͕̣͕̦̌̐̔͐̓̔̔̈́̄̕”

The boys took a step back in surprise at the sudden distortion of your voice. You suddenly came alive from the broken doll you had appeared as, the numb chasm crashing together into rage and despair and sadness.

“You may have orchestrated the situation but they’re the ones who reacted the way they did!” You wailed, your tears falling anew. Jum couldn’t handle it anymore, the usually cool maknae frowning as he stepped forward to hug you. You pressed your face into his shoulder, your body shuddering as you cried.

“Mira and Zoey said they would kill me the next time they saw me! And Aunt Celine said she always knew I was too much like my father and she should have thrown me out years ago! And Rumi… Rumi, she hit me and didn’t even regret it!”

The boys circled around you, offering what comfort they could in the situation they felt they created. It felt like their hearts were being ripped apart from the inside out.

“I just want to be loved and accepted and safe. And being with you guys makes me feel more safe and loved and accepted than I have in years.”

The boys just held you closer, not answering you. They didn’t want to pull you into their darkness. They were selfish and greedy beings, but for you? They couldn’t be selfish.

Your mouth opened to express yourself in the only way you could at the moment. “You and I are tangled as these sheets~ I'm alive, but I can barely breathe~ With your arms around me, it feels like I'm drownin'~ If I reach for somethin' I can't keep~ How bad could it really be?~”

You looked up at them, turning in their arms to meet their eyes one at a time so they could see the honest look in your eyes as you sang.

“So, baby, let's get messy, let's get all the way undone~ Come over, undress me just like I've never been touched~ Baby, I'm obsessed with you and there's no replica~ Maybe if it's messy, if it's messy, if it's messy~ Then you know it's really love~”

The boys still hesitated but you could see the look in their eyes slowly coming apart. So you went on, telling them how you felt.

“I want all of your complicatеd~ Give me hell and all of your worst~ Whеn the party's over and I'm screamin', "I hate it"~ How bad could it really hurt~ If tonight we just let it burn?~”

As the next words came, you truly felt settled in yourself in a way you hadn’t before. You were sure of this decision, being with them. And you slowly turned in a circle, your hands running across their chests and their jaws, making sure they met your eyes as your patterns glowed brighter and spread faster as you accepted them as part of you. Your eyes both glowing amber, and your hands lengthening into claws that matched their own, your skin darkening inhumanly.

“So, baby, let's get messy, let's get all the way undone~ Come over, undress me just like I've never been touched~ Baby, I'm obsessed with you and there's no replica~ Maybe if it's messy, if it's messy, if it's messy~ Then you know it's really love, love~”

The boys were breathless, speechless as you transformed right before their eyes. For them, the patterns were a form of shame and guilt but when they saw them on you? They were beautiful. Like power crawling across your skin, filling your eyes with fire. Like seeing a goddess coming into herself.

“You're pullin' back and I'm runnin' for the door~ You're sayin' those words and it just makes me want you more~ A second chance with our hearts on the floor~ Guess it's love~”

Giving in, the boys pulled you closer, circling you like planets stuck in your orbit. The center of their universe. They let their human guises fall so they could match you, show you that they accepted you and you weren’t alone. So you could see every ugly part of them. Your clothes fade to black, matching their robes as they hold you close, arms tangling for their hands to hold whatever part of you they could put their hands on.

“So, baby, let's get messy, let's get all the way undone~ Come over, undress me just like I've never been touched~ Baby, I'm obsessed with you and there's no replica~ Maybe if it's messy, if it's messy, if it's messy~ Then you know it's really love~ Love~ (Then you know it's really) Love~ Love~”

I’m sorry. The angst was necessary. Have some outtakes to soothe the angst.

Outtakes:

Mystery: *Barks at a fan*

Fans: *Bark back*

Mystery: *shook*

…

Bobby: “The Saja Boys are fighting!”

The Saja Boys: “How dare you use my new face cream without asking?!” “It was on my side of the room!”

…

Celine: *Being the terrible parental figure that she is*

The Saja Boys, Mira, Zoey: *Cracking knuckles and readying weapons* So you’re the one.

…

You: *Answers the phone* “Hi guys, what’s up?”

The Saja Boys: “Oh, just trying to prevent a murder.”

You: “Oh…? How so…?”

The Saja Boys: *Staring at Celine* “Self control.”

…

You: *Searching the crowd* “Where’d the girls go?”

Rumi: “I got this.” *Cups hands around her mouth* “RUMI AND (Y/N) WERE BORN MISTAKES!”

Mira and Zoey: *Violently clamoring over people like feral animals* “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Rumi: “There they are.”

Abby: *Summoned on the top of a pole* “HUH?! I’LL RIP OUT YOUR LIVER!”

Baby: *Appearing with support candy* “Don’t listen to the idiots, beautiful.”

Romance: *Casually holding an ax* “Who said that? I just wanna talk.”

Hyeon: *Suddenly appears behind you to wrap his arms around your waist* “Grrrrr…”

Jinu: *Plotting some dramatic evil revenge plan* “Say that again?”

Derpy the Tiger: *Smiling eerily*

You: *Tearfully* “Guys…”

…

Rumi and Jinu: *High fiveing* “Yay, Platonic Soulmates!”

…

I also got carried away and made a short playlist for this little series.

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374

[pixelateddragonet]

If I find out that an entire month+ of my migraine meds went bad because I forgot to grab them when packing before leaving my currently-not-climate-controlled house I'm going to cry actually

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 13

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 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, slight angst.

A/N: Here's chapter 13! We're getting to some serious stuff now. Shit is getting real. I hope you guys enjoy! (Also, I'm so sorry but the tag list is closed) because tumblr will only allow around 50 huhu. If I could tag everyone I definitely would!

───────── ༺��༻ ─────────

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.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 13:

The Thread and the Thorn

Your body felt like it was suspended in warmth—not heat, not light, but something older, deeper. As if every thread that made you human had been rewoven into something eternal.

And then you saw it. The bond. Threads—fine as hair, crimson as fresh blood—spun out from your chest like a blooming star, glowing softly in the dark. Each one stretched across space, across time, and connected to five other hearts. Jinu. Haneul. Seoha. Hwimori. Seungho. The bond pulsed. A heartbeat shared.

And you felt it—not just the bond itself, but everything inside it. Their love. Their grief. Their agony. Their centuries of waiting. It swallowed you whole.

Jinu, always watching, always leading. His love wrapped around you like velvet, deep and sacred, worshipful in a way that made your throat tighten. In his love, you saw altars. Devotion carved into centuries. He didn’t want your affection—he needed your existence.

Seoha. Calculated, clever, endlessly composed. His love was sharper. A map of every emotion you never said aloud. In his thread, you felt the thousand unsaid ways he kept you breathing, even in silence. You realized now he didn’t twist emotions to control you. He did it to understand you. To always keep you safe.

Haneul. Pure, burning, aching. The way his love held you was like a fortress on fire—desperate, unyielding. He didn’t just want to protect you. He wanted to undo every time he failed to.

Hwimori. His love was songlike, rhythmic, like the breath between sobs. Animalistic in its purity. You felt his fear—of losing you, of being abandoned again. You felt the way he curled around the thought of you like a prayer, like a childhood memory he refused to forget.

And Seungho. Oh, Seungho. His love bled. It blistered. It was a wound that refused to scar. And yet, it carried you so gently, as if you were porcelain already cracked. You realized now: his obsession wasn’t about control. It was grief that had nowhere else to go.

Their threads tightened around your heart. You understood now. Why they watched you like hawks. Why they didn’t let you walk alone. Why they stared too long, held too tightly. It wasn’t possessiveness.

It was terror. You were their miracle. And they had died for you. Each of them. You felt your soul tighten, like a lock clicking into place. And then—

A kiss.

Soft. Featherlight. On your temple, your cheeks, your collarbone. Hands smoothed your hair, touched your back, held you like something sacred. Warmth flooded you. The scent of them, and the pressure of their arms. You were being held. Cradled. Loved.

Your lashes fluttered. A breath stuttered through your nose. The first thing you felt when you woke was an ache. Then the weight of limbs. Then a presence. 

The moment your breath shifted—shallow to steady—they froze.

“She’s breathing different,” Seungho said sharply, almost accusing.

"She's awake—" Hwimori whispered.

“Y/N?” Haneul. Gentle. Panicked.

Hwimori crawled close, clutching your hand. “Please, open your eyes, darling. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open in the slightest way. The world was dim. The dim ambient lights of your bedroom ceiling flickered above like dying stars. The first thing you saw was Jinu. His arms cradled you, face pale, tear-streaked. Around him, the boys paced like caged wolves. Haneul had his hands buried in his hair. Seoha was kneeling, breathing hard. Hwimori’s eyes were bloodshot. Seungho stood with his arms crossed, but his fists trembled at his sides.

You blinked, eyes fully opening this time. And all five of them gasped. Your eyes— They were a blood crimson. Like dusk swallowing the sun. Like old blood and divine wrath. Like the bond made flesh. They stared at you as if you’d become someone else entirely.

You saw it on their faces—not just awe. It was fear.

“Oh my god,” Hwi whispered.

“You’re here,” Seoha said, voice so quiet it shook. “You really came back.”

Jinu clutched you tighter, like if he let go your soul might disappear again. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer yet. You were staring at them. And suddenly, you understood. Not just the love, not just the pain. The weight. The grief. The choices. The deaths.

You reached a shaking hand to Jinu’s cheek. He inhaled sharply, his eyes wide as he leaned into the touch like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Your voice cracked. Soft. Hoarse. True.

“I remember you.”

Jinu broke.

A sound escaped him. Broken, shattered, and desperate. Tears poured from his eyes like a dam had burst. Silent sobs wracked his body as he buried his face in your shoulder. You felt his lips tremble against your skin.

The others were silent at first. Then Hwi started crying too, cheeks wet as he clung to your arm. Seoha looked away, biting down hard on his fist, lips trembling. Haneul bent forward, pressing a kiss to your knuckles over and over again. Seungho stared at you like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his chest rising and falling with ragged restraint.

You reached out. You cupped Hwi’s face. He melted. You kissed the corner of Seoha’s neck. He closed his eyes like he was being sanctified. You pressed your lips to Seungho’s temple. He made a sound like a wounded animal. You took Haneul’s scarred hands in yours, kissed them. He bit his lip until it bled. And then you leaned up and kissed Jinu. On the mouth. Slow. Certain.

Their arms wrapped around you in a heartbeat. Five bodies, one bond.

“I remember,” you whispered again, voice shaking. “I understand now. I remember all of it. The deaths. The centuries. The waiting. The grief.” Your lips trembled. “I can’t believe what you did for me. How much you hurt. You carried all of it. And I… I forgot you. I forgot all of you.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Seoha said through clenched teeth. “You never meant to.”

“We knew it wasn’t your fault,” Hwi murmured.

“You’re here now,” Jinu breathed. “You’re here.”

“Never do that again,” Seungho snapped, his voice cracking. “Don’t ever make us watch you hurt like that again.”

Haneul clutched you tighter. “I thought we were losing you again.”

“But I made it back,” you whispered.

You looked at them—and they saw something different now in your gaze. Crimson eyes, yes. But more than that. Recognition. Empathy. A knowing that dug through centuries.

You touched your chest and the bond throbbed. “It’s complete now, isn’t it?”

They nodded. Jinu spoke. “The pact has accepted you. The bond is eternal.”

“If we knew it would hurt you that much, we would have never—” Seoha started.

You silenced him with a look. “I had to remember,” you said. “It was a moment of pain. But it’s nothing compared to what you’ve lived through. The pain you bore waiting for me.”

They looked shattered. In awe of you. Then came the touches. Fingers in your hair. Lips on skin. Kisses like prayers. Hands that held you like you were a miracle made flesh.

“I love you,” you said, over and over, through tears. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

And they whispered it back, worshipped it back, every one of them crumbling into your arms. When you finally laid back down, they wrapped around you. Pillows. Limbs. Heartbeats.

And you let go. You felt whole.

You fell asleep to the feel of five mouths kissing you into dreams.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sun hadn't even fully risen yet when you stirred, the sky outside a faint shade of lavender. Light filtered through the gauzy curtains in soft, honeyed streaks, catching in the strands of your hair as you lay tangled in warmth and limbs and the lingering glow of something eternal.

You blinked slowly, your lashes heavy with sleep, your cheek pressed against a bare chest—warm, steady, and impossibly sculpted. One arm curled protectively around your waist, another loosely draped over your thigh. The smell of skin, spice, and sleep clung to the air, familiar and grounding.

They surrounded you. All five of them. Jinu was to your left, his long lashes fanned out over sculpted cheeks, his lips parted slightly. In sleep, the sharp lines of his face softened—no leader’s burden, no immortal ache. He was just a man. Yours.

Next to him, Seoha’s usually sly expression was slackened, one hand beneath his cheek like a boy dreaming of quiet mischief. Even now, his collarbone peeked through the loose dip of his tank top, drawing your eyes like a magnet.

Haneul was the furnace at your back—muscle and heat, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had lulled you to sleep. His hand still lay possessively on your hip. Even resting, he looked like a soldier, sculpted and tense beneath the sheets, as if ready to leap into battle at your first sigh.

Hwimori was curled near your legs, like always—his breath barely audible, his brows relaxed in peace. He looked so young in sleep, gentle and soft. His hair was mussed adorably, and his lips moved in what might’ve been the start of a dream.

And Seungho. Quiet, cold, and dangerously still—yet somehow the one you’d gravitated toward in your final sleep. His arm was draped across your stomach, and he held you even in unconsciousness with a grip that refused to let go.

You watched them for a while. Like this, you could almost pretend they weren’t demons. That they weren’t the ones who had carved their way through centuries with blood on their hands and your name on their tongues. They looked peaceful. Handsome beyond reason. Mortal in their stillness.

You swallowed. The pain from last night had faded to a memory, but the weight of it still lived in your bones. The memories hadn’t vanished. They lingered just beneath your skin, like echoes.

I’m still me, you thought. But more whole.

You remembered the healer. The concubine. The girl in the woods with the spirit fox. The maid who sang in the palace. The noble’s daughter who should’ve chosen love over comfort.

But you were also you. Just… more.

You moved slowly, untangling your arm from beneath Haneul’s. As you pushed back the sheets to get up, a low voice grumbled, sleep-heavy and deep, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You squeaked in surprise as Haneul’s strong arm yanked you back down to his chest. Your palm met warm skin—broad, firm, smooth. Your head hit his pec with a soft bounce. “Haneul!” you hissed, but your protest was ruined by your giggle.

“Mmm,” he hummed, voice still thick with sleep and something darker. “You’re warm. Stay.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Seungho muttered from the other side, his voice rough and low, like gravel soaked in midnight.

“It’s six in the morning,” Seoha groaned without opening his eyes. “Even fate needs beauty sleep.”

“She is our beauty sleep,” Jinu whispered, his hand finding yours under the sheets and lacing your fingers together.

“You’re all so clingy,” you mumbled, but your heart ached with affection.

They began to stir, one by one. Soft kisses pressed against your temple, your cheek, your shoulder. Seungho kissed your wrist without a word. Seoha, now propped up on one elbow, leaned in to steal a kiss from your lips, murmuring, “Still ours?”

You nodded sleepily. “Still yours.”

Jinu cupped your face and smiled. “Good morning, my heart.”

“Good morning” you smiled, “I could get used to this,” 

The boys all smiled. Hwimori slipped out of bed first, shuffling toward the kitchen in his oversized hoodie. “I’ll make her tea,” he mumbled.

“Thank you, Hwi!” You called out softly. Hwi brushed his bangs over his forehead— something he rarely did, and flashed you the sweetest smile that had your heart melting.

You watched him go, heart full, body warm from their closeness. Seoha brushed his thumb over your thigh. “How are you feeling?”

You let your fingers skim across his jaw before answering. “Tired. But recharged. I feel… really good. Like I finally stopped holding my breath.”

“Do you still feel any pain?” Jinu asked.

You shook your head. “No. It’s gone. I feel…” You placed a hand on your chest. “Light. Whole. Like I’ve finally come back to myself.”

The room was quiet for a beat. “Thank the fucking gods,” Seungho muttered, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles with more tenderness than he’d ever admit.

Hwimori returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug. “Careful. It’s hot.”

You smiled and took it, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Hwi.”

He blushed a deep red. You looked around at them—your boys, your demons, your past and present—and your chest squeezed. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Their heads snapped toward you. “For what?” Haneul asked.

“For last night. For the pain. For ruining the date. After everything you planned…”

“Stop,” Jinu said gently. “You didn’t ruin anything. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled and took a sip of tea, then set it aside. “Still… I want to do something. For Hwi’s birthday. Maybe I can bake today?”

Hwimori’s eyes lit up like stars. “You’d really do that?”

You nodded. “You guys are busy today anyway, right?”

Seoha groaned and flopped onto his back. “Rehearsals. Again. Ugh. Can’t we just stay in and worship you instead?”

“No can do,” Jinu said, rolling his eyes. “Idol Awards are tomorrow. We need to be perfect.”

At the mention of it, your breath caught slightly. Zoey’s message flickered in your mind. The invite. The mail. You hesitated.

But looking around at them—all still sleep-rumpled, lips kiss-swollen, eyes soft with devotion—you swallowed it down.

Later. You’d ask later.

For now, you just wanted to be in this moment. With them. You smiled, and five hearts beat just a little faster.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The kitchen of Huntrix’s shared penthouse buzzed with the smell of eggs, miso soup, and freshly steamed rice. The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting streaks of gold across their dining table. Bowls clinked, chopsticks moved, and sleepy grumbling filled the air as the three girls slowly came to life.

Rumi sat near the edge, cradling a cup of barley tea between her palms, lost in thought.

“You guys did what?” Mira’s voice cut through the morning fog, sharp and incredulous.

Zoey barely looked up from her phone, her thumb hovering over the message thread. “We invited Y/N to the Idol Awards tomorrow.”

Mira’s eyes widened. “Wouldn't she be going anyway if she's soulbonded to those demons?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Rumi said, keeping her voice steady. “I figured... maybe we could get the idea into her head ourselves. They’ve been keeping her hidden, remember? She hasn’t gone to any of their press events, their shoots, nothing.”

“They’re definitely protective,” Zoey chimed in, finally tearing her eyes off the screen. “Like... crazy possessive protective. If she’s at the awards, they’re way less likely to cause trouble, right? They wouldn’t risk her getting hurt.”

Mira blinked, sitting straighter. “Wait—Rumi. That’s actually genius.”

Rumi froze, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

“If she’s there,” Mira continued, “they won’t act out. Even if they planned something... they’d hold back. She’s their weakness. They won’t want her in harm’s way.”

There was a flicker of discomfort on her face, like the idea of demons feeling anything made her stomach turn.

Zoey perked up instantly. “Right?! It’s like using their own psychotic love against them.”

“I... yeah. Exactly,” Rumi said quickly, smiling faintly.

But something twisted in her chest. They don’t know the real reason I wanted her there. Her eyes flicked to the silent corner of her mind—one guarded carefully from even her friends. A ritual only they could perform. A backup plan. A failsafe.

Tonight, she would meet Jinu. She had to. If he didn’t show... if he didn’t listen... then the ritual might be her only chance to stop everything. To protect Y/N. To set Jinu free. To finish what her father couldn’t.

She stared into her tea, the liquid dark and swirling. Please show up, Jinu. Please let me convince you.

“Ugh,” Zoey groaned suddenly, jolting Rumi from her thoughts. “She saw the message.”

Mira paused mid-bite. “Y/N?”

“Yeah.” Zoey flipped her screen around. “Seen. No reply. Like, girl, you okay??”

“She probably hasn’t checked her mail yet,” Mira said, licking broth off her chopsticks. “Or maybe she’s still adjusting to being soulbound to five literal demons. Kinda a lot.”

“Still. It’s weird.” Zoey frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. “She replied to me yesterday…”

Before any of them could spiral into theories, a familiar voice rang from the hall: “Hey girls!” Bobby poked his head into the kitchen, bright-eyed and clipboard in hand. “Think you can be ready in thirty? The van’s on the way to take you to the rehearsal venue!”

“Got it, Bobby!” they chorused, nearly in unison.

Zoey sprang up and tossed her dishes in the sink. “Okay but this is it. Tomorrow’s the Idol Awards. Our night. Takedown’s going to wipe the floor with them.”

“We’re gonna expose those monsters for what they are,” Mira grinned. “It’s time people saw behind the pretty faces.”

Zoey gave a dramatic twirl, grabbing a hair tie from the counter. “And we’ll finally win. With this new single? There’s no way they can touch us.”

“Crush them,” Mira agreed, clinking her glass against Zoey’s water bottle.

Rumi smiled faintly but didn’t join in. Her eyes lingered on her half-finished bowl, chopsticks resting in place. Her appetite was gone. She kept stirring the soup in small, distracted circles.

If we win... if they lose control… if she gets caught in the middle...if they lose her…

Her hand tightened around her spoon. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. 

Not again.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The day had unfolded with the soft, sleepy kind of warmth that only mornings with them could bring.

Breakfast had been gentle and slow—hands brushing as toast was buttered, kisses placed between sips of tea, sleepy smiles exchanged over bowls of warm congee. Haneul had cooked most of it, still shirtless, humming as he served. Jinu had insisted on feeding you bites of egg with his chopsticks. Hwimori braided a few strands of your hair behind your ear mid-chew, murmuring how soft you looked today. Seoha had brewed a special blend of tea just for you and smirked each time you caught his eye. Even Seungho, ever the aloof one, had sat closer than usual, brushing his thumb over your knee beneath the table like a quiet promise.

Now, the kitchen was yours.

Sunlight poured through the wide windows, dappled across the countertops where ingredients were already lined up: flour, sugar, vanilla, soft butter, cocoa powder, and Hwi’s favorite strawberries waiting in a bowl. You danced barefoot across the tiles, hips swaying in rhythm, your oversized tank top loose around you, clinging in all the places they liked. Your leggings were dusted faintly with flour. You didn’t care.

The speaker in the corner played a familiar beat. And you couldn’t help it—you sang along.

"'Cause I need you to need me

I'm empty, you feed me so refreshing…"

You stirred the batter in time to the music, the spoon spinning in wide circles as you began to bounce on your heels, humming through a smile.

“You're all I can think of,

Every drop I drink up…”

With a happy twirl, you stepped toward the fridge, shimmied your hips, and did a little shoulder pop—your body light and loose, completely lost in the rhythm.

"You're my soda pop,

My little soda pop…"

Your hips swayed more exaggeratedly as you grabbed the eggs and shut the fridge with your hip, laughing to yourself. You gave a cheeky little spin, flicking your hair back. Despite everything—despite the soulbond, the memories, the chaos—you really did enjoy their music.

Not that they knew that, of course.

You were mid-step, lip-syncing dramatically to the chorus, when Haneul wandered into the kitchen in sweats, drawn by the scent of strawberries and the voice of his own song playing from the speaker—only to stop in his tracks at the sight of you.

His brows lifted, a slow smirk spreading on his face as he leaned against the doorway. You had no idea he was watching.

And you looked so damn cute like that—messy ponytail, tank top slipping slightly off one shoulder, hips swaying like a tease, mouthing his lyrics like you meant them.

He nearly groaned.

“Cool me down, you're so hot

Pour me up, I won't stop…”

“Holy shit,” Haneul murmured under his breath, eyes glued to your backside. He raised a finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the hallway as footsteps approached. Seoha entered, already dressed for rehearsal—dark pants, silver jewelry, scent of cologne trailing behind him. He halted, blinking once at the sight before him. Then smirked. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, grinning. “She’s dancing… to us?”

“Shhh,” Haneul held up his hand again. “Let her finish. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Seoha chuckled quietly and leaned against the wall beside him, arms folded. “This is... dangerously cute.”

“You’re my soda pop,

My little soda pop…”

The chorus hit again, and you gave a little jump to the beat, hips shaking in perfect time with the music, your whole body a rhythm of domestic joy and pop song innocence. The rest of the boys filtered in—drawn by the sound and the missing members of their pack.

“Why are you two lurking in the hallway like stalkers—” Jinu stopped short, and the others bumped into him. They froze. Seungho’s eyes narrowed slightly. Hwimori’s mouth parted. They all stared.

You turned, oblivious, spoon in your mouth as you tasted the batter, and— You froze. Six pairs of eyes on you.

Your jaw dropped. “H-How long have you guys been standing there?”

Seoha smirked first. “Long enough to consider recording it for eternity.”

“You were really feelin’ that chorus, huh?” Haneul grinned.

Seungho didn’t say a word—just stalked toward you slowly, eyes locked on yours, until he was right behind you. Before you could retreat, his hand slipped down and gave your ass a possessive squeeze.

You squeaked. He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “If you’re going to dance like that in our kitchen, you better be ready to finish what you started.”

“Sh-Shut up,” you stammered, face turning scarlet.

They laughed—open, warm, unfiltered joy. “You’re never living this down,” Haneul added, grabbing a strawberry from the counter and popping it in his mouth with a wink.

“You guys are the worst,” you grumbled, trying to hide your flustered smile as you stirred the batter again.

“You’re the one who was dancing to our song, baby,” Seoha said, smoothing his hands down your hips from behind and kissing the top of your head. “You should know better by now.”

You glanced at them—sculpted torsos, styled hair, dressed in coordinated blacks and silvers for rehearsal. They looked like the idols they were… demons in disguise. Too handsome. Too dangerous. And yet—completely yours.

“Don’t you guys have to leave soon?” you asked, flicking batter toward them playfully.

“Eventually,” Jinu said, stepping closer to brush flour from your cheek. “But watching you like that might’ve just made my whole day.”

“You’re lucky we didn’t drag you back to bed,” Seoha muttered against your skin.

“Yet,” Seungho added darkly.

You rolled your eyes but smiled—giddy, flustered, glowing. They were yours. And somehow, today felt lighter. You returned to your mixing bowl, cheeks still hot, but heart full.

And they watched you with the kind of awe only demons in love could give.

A few minutes passed. The kitchen was still warm with the scent of vanilla and sugar, the soft hum of your music still echoing faintly from the speakers. Batter clung to your whisk as you stirred, smiling faintly to yourself. The boys were nearby, some packing up for rehearsal, others chatting softly—Jinu was on the phone discussing logistics with the venue manager, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while Seoha triple-checked their schedules.

Everything felt… almost normal. Until your phone buzzed again. You wiped your fingers on your apron and picked it up, screen still lit from earlier. A new message from Zoey blinked at you.

“Hey hey! Double texting—but just wanted to make sure you got the invite? lmk!”

Your heart stalled. The Idol Awards.

You hadn’t even replied to her first message. And now, here she was, following up. You stared at the screen for a beat longer than necessary before swallowing and turning your head toward the living room. Jinu was still distracted. The others were already dressed and lingering before they had to leave. If you were going to ask, it had to be now.

You set the whisk down. “Hey… about the Idol Awards tomorrow.”

Five heads turned. You hesitated, eyes scanning each of them. “It’s a big night for you guys… did you… want me to be there?”

The shift was immediate. Tension rippled through the room like a cold wind. Seoha’s shoulders stiffened, his gaze sharpening.

“Why?” he asked slowly. “Did Zoey message you by any chance?”

You blinked. “How did you know that…?”

Silence. Absolute silence. Seoha didn’t flinch. He just watched you, expression unreadable. Your chest tightened. “She just messaged to ask if I was going,” you clarified, trying to keep your tone even. “So I wanted to know—”

You trailed off as you scanned their faces again. Something had changed in them. They weren’t shocked or confused. They were already aware.

Hwimori stepped closer. “Did you… want to go?”

You hesitated, gaze dropping. “Well… yeah. I mean… it’s a big moment for you. Don’t you want me to see it?”

There was a beat.

“Of course we do,” Seoha finally said, but his voice was taut. “But that place will be crawling with cameras, staff, fans—security everywhere.”

Jinu set his phone down, eyes locked onto yours with unsettling calm. “And Huntrix. They’ll be there too. Watching. Maybe waiting.”

You stared at him. “Do you think they’d actually do something to me?”

Seungho’s voice cut in—sharp, low. “They’ve already reached out to you privately. That alone is reason enough not to trust them.”

“We’re just being careful, baby,” Haneul added gently, as if to balance out the tension. “It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about keeping you safe.”

Safe. That word again. Your eyes flicked to Seoha, a knot forming in your stomach. Something told you not to ask… but you couldn’t stop yourself. You remembered what he said about handling your mail. A favor, he'd called it. A kindness. But if they were reacting like this… there was no way that invitation ever made it to your hands.

You sat down slowly at the kitchen table, heart heavier than you expected. “I just thought… after everything last night… I’d be there. Supporting you. With you.”

Hwimori knelt beside you, brushing his fingers lightly across your knee. “We want you there. But it’s dangerous. And if anything happened to you in that crowd, we’d burn the building down. You know we would.”

The words sounded romantic. Protective. But they chilled you. You looked up at them again. Their faces—so familiar, so beloved—now held something darker. Something heavier. Like you were a glass sculpture they couldn’t bear to shatter.

You nodded, offering a faint smile. “It’s okay. I get it. I’ll stay home.”

They all exhaled in relief. Jinu kissed your temple gently. Seoha rested his hand on your shoulder. Haneul pulled you into a tight hug, murmuring, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll miss you,” Hwimori whispered. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Don’t go anywhere while we’re gone,” Seungho added, his tone a quiet warning disguised as sweetness.

You nodded again. But the ache in your chest didn’t fade. You walked them out to the door, watching them each lean down to press kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your hair.

“We love you,” Jinu said, touching your chin. “No matter what.”

“I love you,” you whispered and smiled, waving at them walking down the hallway. And then the door clicked shut. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You walked back into the kitchen, the smell of sugar and vanilla still thick in the air, but your stomach turned. That familiar itch crept beneath your skin again. Why hadn’t they just told you? Why hadn’t they trusted you with the truth? You paced for a moment, staring blankly at the mixing bowl.

Derpy lay curled on the kitchen rug, his massive striped paws twitching as he dozed, but one of his eerie, oversized eyes cracked open at your stillness. The magpie, perched on the hanging pot rack, tilted its tiny-hatted head at you curiously.

Then a terrible thought bloomed in your chest. Seoha handles the mail…

You dropped everything. You checked the stack by the door again—same bills, same coupons. Nothing new. Derpy slowly rose to his feet with a low, rumbling huff, padding behind you as you moved to the kitchen trash, digging through flour-covered paper towels and broken eggshells. The magpie flitted to the counter edge, its glossy wings catching the light.

Nothing. You tried the bin in the living room. Then the bathroom. The tiger and the bird followed, quiet shadows in your trail, heads cocked in a silent mirror of your growing urgency.

And just when you were starting to feel ridiculous— There it was. Shoved toward the bottom of the hallway trash, crumpled slightly, but still pristine. An envelope. Gilded in soft gold. Your name on it.

Your breath caught. You pulled it out slowly, your fingers trembling. The seal wasn’t broken. The magpie’s beak dropped open dramatically, wings flaring like it had just witnessed a crime scene. Derpy blinked his big cartoonish eyes at the envelope, utterly confused.

You peeled it open. Inside was your ticket to the Idol Awards. Addressed to you. Your name printed in ornate lettering. A special seat reserved. 

Your heart twisted. You stood there, staring at it like it might bite you. Like the paper itself could burn. They had thrown it away. They knew. They had seen it. And they had made the choice—for you.

You pressed a hand to your chest, willing yourself not to cry. The magpie hopped onto your shoulder gently, its feathers brushing your cheek. Derpy nudged your leg with his nose, a low chuff rumbling in his throat like he could sense your distress.

They said it was for your protection. And maybe it was. But… why hadn’t they trusted you enough to explain? Why did you have to find this like a secret they hoped would stay buried?

You returned to the kitchen slowly, placing the invitation on the counter next to the batter. It sat there like a ghost—glaring, radiant, painful.

You stirred the mix, mechanically. The magpie remained perched nearby, chirping quietly like it was trying to comfort you. Derpy sprawled out beside the fridge, watching with soft blue eyes, tail flicking like a metronome.

And as you stirred, your thoughts spun darker. They said it was for your safety. But Huntrix wanted you there too. Why?

And what was so dangerous about this night that both sides wanted you to be in a certain place? You didn’t want to believe they were hiding something. But that itch—that cold doubt—gnawed at your ribs.

You finished prepping the cupcakes, the mochi mix, the cream fillings. You piped hearts onto the tops. Cleaned up the mess. Kept your hands busy because your head wouldn’t stop spinning. An hour passed and you realized you were out of sweet rice flour.

You groaned. “I should’ve gotten enough…”

The mochi had already started setting. You couldn’t leave it hanging. Your eyes drifted to the invite again. The magpie followed your gaze with a suspicious squeak. You bit your lip. They’d told you not to leave the apartment.

But after everything... you couldn’t help but want to breathe a little rebellion into your lungs. Just once.

It was just one errand. A quick trip to the store. They wouldn’t even know. 

You cleaned your hands, grabbed your jacket, and slipped your shoes on. As you approached the door, the magpie suddenly took off, flapping in front of you with a sharp, anxious trill, trying to block your path. Derpy rose, muscles taut, his tail thumping once in warning.

“I’ll be quick,” you whispered, brushing the bird aside gently. “Be good, okay?”

The magpie let out one last, distressed chirp.

And then you stepped outside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The chamber was dark, lit only by the low hum of violet runes etched into the stone. Shadows clung to the walls like smoke, shifting faintly with every breath of air that stirred.

One of them moved first, robes whispering as he stepped forward, eyes clouded with something older than time. 

“It has sealed,” he murmured, voice like dust on parchment. “The bond.”

There was a pause. The second leaned forward, lips thinning. “Is it strong enough?”

The first’s mouth curled, not in joy—but in certainty. “It’s been growing for lifetimes,” he said. “Rooted deeper than most mortals could ever understand. Than anything he could’ve ever created. It was never a question of strength. Only of time.”

Silence stretched again, heavy. “And the demons?” the second asked finally. “They don’t know what she could become?”

The first’s gaze gleamed and he shook his head. “No. They don’t. I suspect perhaps the oldest one… Jinu, was it?” the first rubbed his chin in thought, “Suspects. After all, I did meddle quite a bit…”

“Then how in the world would it even be possible?” The second’s voice was quiet, but pointed. A knife behind velvet. The first turned his head ever so slightly. “That depends… the only one who has knowledge of what could transpire is…” his eyes softened, “-the daughter of Daehyun.”

The second’s expression flickered—surprise, maybe, or something near suspicion. “She’s still alive?”

“She walks among them,” the first confirmed, a wry smile curled on his lips, “As a hunter no less…”

The second scoffs in disbelief. “The irony of it all…”

The first agrees with an amused nod, “But we do not know what she knows. Or what role she intends to play. If she has any true connection to any of them.”

“And if she does?”

“Then it may be enough.” The first tilted his chin slightly upward, as if tasting fate on the wind. “Though I doubt she understands the scope of what her blood once tried to create.”

Another silence, this one longer. “You should intervene,” the second said, voice firmer now. “If there’s even a chance—”

“I will not meddle,” the first interrupted smoothly, but his tone was too still, too deliberate. “Not yet.” He turned away from the runes, gazing deeper into the stone.

“The pieces are in motion,” he continued. “The bond has changed her… But what she is becoming?” His fingers brushed the air, tracing something unseen. “That is not solely their doing.”

The second narrowed his eyes. “You think it will awaken?”

“I think,” the first said softly, “that what binds them… was never just about love.”

And the runes pulsed once, dim and red.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

"When your patterns start to show, it makes the hatred want to grow out of my—"

Rumi trailed off from her singing, the words suddenly tasting bitter on her tongue. Her voice dropped, her body slowing as she lost the rhythm. The song just... wasn't right. At first, she had suggested the diss track. An anti-demon anthem. Something loud and vengeful.

But that was before. Before she knew about Jinu. Before the soulbond. Before learning what her parents had tried to build.

“What's going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira complained, snapping her body out of formation with an exaggerated stomp. Her eyes narrowed, sweat glinting at her temple. She hated wasting time—especially this close to the awards.

Rumi exhaled, annoyed at herself. “It's just these lyrics are throwing me off. I don't think they're right just yet...”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira crossed her arms, her voice sharp and disbelieving. “We’ve rehearsed this for weeks, Rumi. Now you’re saying the lyrics don’t work?”

“No, it’s fine,” Zoey said quickly, trying to smooth things over. She knelt beside her duffel bag, flipping through her battered notebook filled with scribbled verses and crossed-out lines. “It’s the second verse, right?”

She rattled off some backup lines, equally sharp, equally condemning. Words that mirrored the pain, the betrayal, the rage they'd all channeled since the incident with the Saja boys. But Rumi shook her head.

“No, Zoey, it’s just—it’s the whole song.”

Zoey looked up from the page, face frozen in disbelief. “Oh, okay great. Well then I might as well tear these all up!” She ripped out the page in front of her and shredded it for dramatic flair, the paper fluttering to the floor like dead leaves.

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to,” Mira exploded, her frustration bubbling over. “The Idol Awards are TOMORROW! This is the performance—we can’t just rewrite the damn thing!”

“Well... I don’t think I can sing this song,” Rumi said quietly but firmly.

Mira and Zoey stared at her like she had grown horns. The stage practically froze in the echo of her words. The silence between them was thick and sharp, full of disbelief and confusion. Rumi had been distant lately—distracted, vague. But now? Now she sounded like someone else.

“Zoey, has Y/N replied?” she asked suddenly, voice softer, more tentative.

The shift in topic was so abrupt, so surreal, the girls just gawked at her. “Seriously?!” Zoey cried, blinking in disbelief. “Rumi, what’s with you? Why do you want her there so bad? I get that it’s a good idea to stop the Saja boys from doing anything—but we shouldn’t be focusing on that—”

“Is that why you can’t sing the song?” Mira asked, her tone sharpening. “Because you don’t want her to hear this? Because of the soulbond?!”

Rumi’s eyes widened. “What–! No! I–“

“We don’t even know if it’s real,” Zoey added, her voice rising in exasperation. “You can’t just base our entire performance on—”

“Hey girls,” Bobby called as he entered, arms full of drinks and convenience store snacks. “Just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…”

They barely heard him.

Zoey and Mira were still glaring at Rumi, lips parted in disbelief, sweat cooling rapidly on their skin. Bobby’s cheerful voice became background noise, distant and irrelevant.

And then— A tremor. A softcrack beneath their feet. Like lightning striking glass from under the stage. They all stopped. Zoey’s spine straightened. Mira’s eyes darted to the ground. Rumi turned her head sharply toward the far end of the stadium.

A faint pulse of pink light shimmered beneath the floorboards. Thin like a thread. But it spread—spiderweb cracks of residual energy spiraling outward in slow motion. The Honmoon was reacting. Rumi’s eyes locked with the others.

They didn’t need words. Demons. A breach.

They grabbed their things instinctively, choreography forgotten. In an instant, they were moving—rushing out of the stadium, hearts pounding, leaving confusion, anger, and broken lyrics behind.

The performance could wait. Something else had cracked first.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You walked to the grocery store, hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets, but your thoughts were miles away—still circling the envelope like a vulture over something dead.

They threw it away. They didn’t even tell you. They chose to hide it.

The thought pulsed in your chest like an old wound ripped open again. You knew them—you knew how obsessive they were, how protective, how the soulbond had changed everything between you. But knowing didn’t stop the sting. You weren’t their pet. You weren’t a doll to be kept on a shelf, dressed up and adored but locked away when inconvenient. Even if they said it was for your safety, even if some part of you believed that... it didn’t make it okay.

You reached the corner store, ducking under the flickering neon sign. It had been so long since you went out alone. You used to do this sort of thing all the time—quick errands, solo walks, people-watching from trains and cafés. But ever since the boys came into your life, your world had become... small. Controlled. Every step shadowed. Every door opened for you. Every hand held tight.

You didn’t even realize how much you missed this. The cold air on your cheeks. The freedom of deciding something without checking in.

Inside, the grocery was quiet. You scanned the shelves, fingers brushing labels, searching until your eyes landed on the baking section. The memory hit before you could stop it.

Jinu. Pushing the cart, grinning under his mask, teasing you over what brand of flour you liked. His hand brushing yours as you both reached for sprinkles at the same time. The warmth in your chest, that fluttering feeling. You bit your lip and swallowed hard. Even he didn’t tell you. 

You scanned the shelf. No sweet rice flour. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, sighing. You spotted a staff member restocking nearby. “Excuse me—do you have any more of this?”

The woman glanced at the empty spot and shook her head. “Sorry, we’re out. But the other branch—ten minutes from here? They should still have stock.”

She pointed out the location to you on your phone. The nearest store was one subway stop away. You hesitated. They told you not to leave the apartment. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go far. But this wasn’t far. It was one stop. One errand. One ingredient. 

It was a tiny rebellion. Afterall, you had missed being outside doing your own thing. 

You left the store and made your way to the station. The smell of warm asphalt and train metal hit you, and suddenly, you were thrown back into a life that felt like someone else’s. People passed in waves—suits, students, tourists, old ladies with tote bags. It was loud, messy, ordinary.

You breathed it in. You boarded the train, grateful for the empty seat near the door. As you sat down, the low jingle of a familiar tune drifted from the girl beside you.

“Soda Pop”

You froze. On the screen, the Saja boys grinned. Bright lights, perfect smiles, voices slick with polish.

“Join the pride. We need you.”

Their eyes sparkled. Their movements were hypnotic. They were flawless. You stared. Not at the fan-club invite video, but at the gap between who they pretended to be and who they really were. How dangerous they really were. How easily they lured people in—just like they lured you. The smiles. The charm. The seduction.

And yet... No one knew them like you did.

No one saw the way they held you at night like you’d vanish if they let go. The way Seungho whispered confessions to your sleeping body. The way Haneul’s hands trembled every time you winced. The way Jinu always said “Mine” with the quiet finality of a man who’d burned worlds for you.

Your heart ached. You leaned your head against the train window, eyes fluttering closed. And then—

The glass darkened. You blinked. Outside the window… darkness. Crawling, slithering, writhing. Faceless monsters. Hundreds of them. Crawling across the outside of the train like insects. Sticking to the glass. Scratching at the metal. Their limbs dragged across the walls like tar.

You gasped. Passengers glanced at you, confused. A man beside you frowned. “Miss, are you okay?”

You turned to him, panic etched into your face. “Don’t you see them?! Outside—there’s—”

You looked around. Everyone sat still. Scrolling. Talking. Sleeping. Normal.

Why aren’t they seeing this?

Your heart pounded. “They’re—there’s something outside—!”

No one moved. No one reacted. Then— A shadow passed through the window. Into the train. One of them came through the glass like mist, sliding toward the man who had spoken to you. You opened your mouth to scream just as the monster placed a hand on the man’s chest— and sucked the soul right out of him.

A bright blue wisp of light—his essence—ripped from his body. He vanished. Your scream tore through the silence.

“MISS—WHAT—?!” someone shouted.

But no one saw the monster hovering there. No one saw the way more were crawling in. More and more, seeping through the windows, the cracks, the air vents. You turned—people’s bodies slumping, souls lifted. No one else reacted.

Only you.

You backed away, tripping into the corner of the car, sobbing, trembling. What the hell is happening? What is this?! What the fuck is this?! Are you going to die?!

You saw them crawling, writhing. Stealing the souls of everyone with you in the train cart. You froze, blood curling beneath your veins as you noticed their skin. 

Patterns. Purple, familiar patterns littered their skin in the same way you knew them. Your stomach sank. These monsters were… Demons?

You reached for your phone, for something—anything—And then— The lights flickered. The doors hissed. The train began to slow. But the demons didn’t.

Another demon had entered. This one was larger than the others and had a face that terrified you to your core. His red skin looked hard and scale-like. Patterns littered his limbs, but now, they weren’t beautiful as you’d known them. Right now, those patterns looked menacing. He had terrifying horns that curled like a ram’s. His eyes– soulless, red, and devious. He looked like a monster from nightmares. 

This couldn’t be a real demon, could it? He looked nothing like the boys. Nothing like the beautiful demons who whispered sweet nothings into your ear and held you close at night. His eyes were wild and terrible— and locked onto you.

And he began to move. Right toward you.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Dun Dun Dunnnnn. Why is it that whenever you leave the house, something shitty always has to happen? Drama follows you everywhere, doesn't it?

*Sigh, I think you guys can just anticipate the events of the next chapter. It's going to be a bit intense, and a bit ouchie. I'm sorry!! But trust the process. <3

Thank you all for reading as usual! MWAH!

Willa x.

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

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[mwphisto]

A little pampering never hurt~

A/N: Wearing heels for 6+ hours absolutely destroyed my feet and I’m struggling to walk … so here is a self indulgent Sylus Drabble….

Warning, this post includes: FEET… not in a fetish type of way but there is a lot of foot and foot injury talk lol so just be warned if feet give you the heebie jeebies. Mostly fluff and silly banter so like it’s tame and cute lol

“I thought you said you gave the heels a test run and they were fine, sweetie.”

You had, of course you had. As a woman who was so prone to wearing sneakers, slippers, and the rather controversial croc, you always test ran your heel options before big events. And these ones had been fine! You swore it!

“I did! You even saw me—ouch!” Pain flared through the sole of your foot as Sylus carefully massaged just below your big toe. “Seems like your test was faulty.”

You’d crammed your feet into narrow heels and then walked on uneven pavement, stood more than you sat, and climbed stairs. Of course you were hurting, but man did it suck. “W-well there is nothing to do no-ow!”

Again, you’re flinching from his touch, leg shooting back to pull your foot away but Sylus was faster. “Your feet are swollen, you have bruising, and a few blisters. Those shoes have done more damage to you than a wanderer has.”

You could only muster a pout, you hated that Sylus was touching your feet to begin with. Never mind seeing them in such a decrepit looking state. Beside him was a first aid kit — some bandages, healing ointment with pain relievers inside, some gauze for cushioning, and even ice.

“I-It really isn’t that big of a deal, I’ll be fine I just have to give myself a few hours o-off of th-Jesus Sylus that hurts!” Large fingers dug into the sore junction where your toe connected with the rest of your foot. For a second, you thought the man was trying to break it off.

“Sorry, sorry.” There was no hint of a smirk on his lips either. And much to your horror, he lifted one injured foot to his lips and kissed the top, just below your ankle.

Your hands came up to hide your burning face, thoroughly embarrassed by everything occurring.

“Your feet are so bruised, sweetie. I’m gonna have to ice them before doing anything else.” You could even think straight, mortified by this level of pampering as he set your injured feet back on his lap. “It’ll be cold but it will help with swelling and numbing the nerves. Then I can wrap them nice and tight so the swelling doesn’t come back.”

“Y…yeah okay, sure. Thanks…” you felt like you were chewing on rocks trying to get the words out. Sylus was hiding a smirk as he reached for the ice. It was cute to see you so shy, a sight he felt like he was never graced with.

“Any time, sweetie. But promise me something…” you flinched the second the ice hit your feet, fingers curling into your palms as you tried to breathe through and get used to the sensation. “Sure, anything…!”

“Only I can pick out your shoes from now on. And we’re burning those heels.” You know what? Why not.

“You’ve got a deal!”