#it is necessary for change and change is necessary

[coriihanniee]

TELL ME, WILL WE SURVIVE? ⋆˚࿔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JINU ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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

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

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

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

The door stood ajar.

Through the gap, you could see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The conversation inside the office stopped abruptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stepped forward. 

"I said don't."

He moved closer.

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

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

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

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

Instead, he stepped back. 

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

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

"What the hell are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

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

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

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

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

"I waited for you," you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then do it."

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

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

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I wouldn't dare ask."

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

He nodded, tears tracking down his cheeks.

You stepped closer, your heart shattering with every breath.

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

ABBY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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

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

Nothing but interference.

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

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

In the center of the ring stood Abby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not a groupie."

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

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

"I'm here for you."

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

"This isn't a game."

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

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

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

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

About fighting him specifically.

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

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

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

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

"I'm trying not to kill you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have we met before?" you asked.

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

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

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What kind of things?"

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

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

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

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

"I didn't die."

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

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

"Oh god," you whispered.

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

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

"You became a demon for me?"

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

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

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

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

"Abby, wait—"

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

"I can't just—"

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

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

"I don't know," you admitted.

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

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

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

"I'm giving you a head start."

"Why?"

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

"Because I remember enough," you said simply.

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

"I know."

"I'll find you again."

"I know."

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

ROMANCE ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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

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

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

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

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

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

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

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

Without warning, you lunged.

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

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

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

"Why would I want to hurt you?"

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

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

"Let me go," you hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What—that's impossible."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's a love built on lies."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned and ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Wouldn't you?

MYSTERY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't hesitate one second. 

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

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

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

The music comes to a stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Remember what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your weapon wavers. "Stop."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand trembles. The weapon feels impossibly heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BABY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Something was wrong with your hands.

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he feel familiar?

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

You knew this place.

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

This was from your dreams. Or maybe...

"Didn't expect you to come."

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you know me?"

Baby shrugged with affected indifference. "Lucky guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll never leave you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, wait—"

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

"Begging now? Huh, pathetic."

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

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

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

"Forget it. Forget everything."

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

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

@coriihanniee 💌

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

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[teaboot]

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.13

Gift In Disguise

Male reader X Kwon Eunbi

Tags: Smut, not a mommy Eunbi 9.2k Words

A/N: Does mention a little blood and violence but you should be fine :)

Every movement is calm, controlled, and efficient. But you carry a kind of danger. It can serve good or evil, but make no mistake—you are dangerous, more than what people realize. It’s not something you like to show, unless you want to make a clear statement.

Someone always has to learn the hard way. Just like today, you’ll give back what they bring. Psychological mind games, manipulation, subtle pressure, controlled silence and chaos—you’ll escalate it calmly, with precision, only if it’s necessary. This is your playing field.

“Boss?” Shadow—a colleague of yours say, pausing as he looks back at you.

Eunbi glances over too with curiosity in her eyes, wondering why you stopped short just before turning around the corner toward the elevators. She tries to follow your gaze but quickly finds nothing. Shadow, on the other hand, catches the signal instantly. No words needed.

This is just one of the many things that set you apart as a bodyguard—counter-surveillance isn’t easy, and it’s not a skill anyone can easily learn. It’s more than watching your surroundings; it’s about reading people, anticipating their moves. You see someone once, there’s no need to be alarmed. Twice, maybe it’s a coincidence. But the third time, you know you’re being tailed. Easier said than done.

“I need to use the bathroom. Escort Miss Eunbi to her room, Shadow,” you say, making an excuse as you continue to stare down at the person in the lobby from afar.

“Understood, Boss” the bodyguard says and continues to walk with Eunbi following right behind.

And right after Eunbi turns the corner, you adjust your earpiece to radio your colleagues. “This is Boss. Shadow is escorting Eunbi. Ghost, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“What did security say about the possible Tango? Over.”

“They think we’re overreacting. We can’t do nothing about it. They seem like unseasoned security guards that haven’t gotten their hands dirty before when the threat is posing as a bodyguard.”

No bodyguard should be sitting down when there’s only four that’s in the building. It’s already a red flag. An experienced security guard would have caught on.

"Should I drag him by the hair to security?" you say, half-sarcastic, but not entirely joking. At this point, the risk of something happening is unknown. Anything can happen in a moment. You're not doing this just to protect Eunbi, but to ensure the safety of everyone in the building. It’s really not your job to, but something like this is already a security risk.

The whole time, your eyes stay locked on him—the threat. Whether he knows you're watching from a distance and is just playing dumb, you don’t care. You want him to realize he’s being stalked. You want him to feel uneasy. You want him to be afraid.

“What’s Tango doing? Confirm a description, Boss. Delta is right beside me. Shadow and Miss Eunbi just got out of the elevator and are walking to the room.”

“He’s sitting pretty with a phone in his face,” you reply, still staring down the threat. “Confirming—black baseball cap, black suit jacket, white flannel, black pants, brown dress shoes.”

“Copy that. No changes. Should I drag each security guard by their hair to you, Boss?” Ghost chuckles.

“It’s a good way to hurt their pride, and I’ll be proud—but let’s not get into legal lawsuits.”

“Right. Would you like me to take your place?”

“Rendezvous at my location. Try stalking and make it super obvious. Or try hitting on him if you get bored.”

“Is that really the extent you want me to go, Boss?” Ghost laughs.

“Up to you. Just let me know so we’re on the same page.”

What you really mean is, you aren’t pressuring Ghost to do honeypotting—a form of espionage where a woman flirts with a man to gather information or lower his guard. But if you can get something useful that way, it’s a win. Minimal risk. Maximum gain.

“Eunbi just entered the room a few seconds ago. I’ll be on my way down,” Ghost says.

Once Ghost takes over your position, you step into the elevator and head up to Eunbi. You glance at everyone who passes by from the corner of your eye—head on a swivel, even as they go about their day.

When you reach the room, you tap Delta on the shoulder and motion for him to patrol the floor. No one says it out loud, but the team feels it from the change in your glare—passivity dissolving into quiet tension. The calm watchfulness sharpens. Everyone’s posture straightens, eyes narrow. Surveillance shifts into staging. You and the team aren’t just watching anymore—you’re waiting for the moment to strike.

“Hey,” Eunbi whispers, opening the door after hearing your voice from outside her room. “Oppa.”

“Yes?”

She waves you into the room, and you follow her command. Eunbi gently closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the brightly lit room while her manager is still out getting snacks.

“Oppa, is everything okay?” she asks cautiously. “You were in the bathroom for so long. Are you feeling constipated? I have some medicine if you are.”

Seriously, what’s going on in her mind? Is she always like this? You don’t even know.

“No. And stick to ‘sir’ like you did before. We aren’t close like that.”

“Alright, Boss,” she replies, which already feels bizarre to you.

“Not that either.”

“Well, you’re not the actual boss-boss, though,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “Right?”

You keep a silent smile, with just a hint of a smirk.

“Hey, you’re a little annoying. At least answer me, Sir,” Eunbi pouts.

You would say Eunbi is an oddball, because how many names is she going to call you by, and within a simple response? She already called you by your name, “Sir,” “Oppa,” “Mister bodyguard,” and an informal “Hey”, all in rotation. It’s not a big deal to you, but it is getting a little annoying when she can’t stick to one name.

“Do you know what psychological misdirection is, Miss Eunbi?”

“A what?” she says, sitting down on the chair while you stand near the door.

If she doesn’t catch on, you’ll misdirect her to another topic—just to gauge how clueless she really is. “Want to know why I told you not to say my name? Get down.”

She stands up, confused, looking around before slowly squatting in front of you with her legs together. “What’s happening?”

“Stand up,” you say, looking down and meeting Eunbi’s gaze with her cleavage in your view, which was unintentional on your end to look down at her.

She obeys silently, still confused as ever.

“Sit back on the chair, Miss Eunbi.”

“W-what are you doing?” she asks, blindly grabbing the chair and sits down.

“At least you’re obedient, Miss Eunbi. Just listen and do whatever I tell you to do. Don’t question, don’t worry. Trust me, and I’ll trust you.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes at how easily you controlled her. “Oppa, why do you look so paranoid, though? Nothing’s going to happen,” Eunbi says with a smile.

That’s the last thing you wanted to hear—“nothing will happen.”

Even omens exist in your line of work. It’s like telling a first responder, “It’s been quiet.” Anything can happen after that. And the smile Eunbi’s giving you meant to comfort, just hits a nerve instead.

“I’m not paranoid, Miss Eunbi,” you say calmly, letting out a quiet sigh that barely masks the tension coiling in your chest.

“Um, would you like to sit down? There’s a chair right by you. Just look down, like to the left side," she says with a gentle invitation.

“No thanks, Miss,” you reply, your tone clipped but not harsh. “Not here to babysit an adult.”

She exhales, a mix of frustration and concern. “Why are you being like this? Weren’t you more friendly like thirty minutes ago? Is it because my manager’s not here that you’re acting cold to me? C’mon, it’s only been more than like one or two hours.” Her eyes search yours, trying to find a hint of the person she met earlier.

If she were sharper, she’d notice the subtle shift in your posture—the way your eyes flicker toward the door every few seconds, or how your jaw tightens when you think she’s not looking. The threat you’ve spotted more than once over these past hours isn’t visible to her. And you don’t blame her—it’s not her burden to carry.

Still, your guarded demeanor, the silence between your words, the weight in the room—it should speak volumes.

“It’s not that, Miss Eunbi. Please understand,” you say quietly, voice steady but heavy with meaning.

“Eunbi. Just call me Eunbi. Please, Oppa?”

But you don’t budge. “I get it. We met at the awards show when you got lost and couldn’t find the bathroom and talked a little, but let’s stick to professionalism.”

“I don’t like you, Sir.”

“I don’t care,” you shoot back quickly.

“Are we friends? We sure do bicker a lot.” Her smile grows wider, teasing, eyes locking with yours like she’s trying to crack the armor you wear.

You neither know nor care much about being her friend, so you shrug without saying a word.

“It’s okay to be shy and not admit we’re friends. But you should buy my album. I’ll personally include extra goodies—free of charge. I’ll even sign it. Friends should support each other, right?”

“We’ll see,” you say, not planning to spend a dime on her album. “Depends on how I feel.”

“I like this side of you now. It’s kind of hot. The cold with the soft, gentle side mixed in—very charming.”

She’s definitely hitting on you, but you act like you didn’t hear it. Neither does she really get what you’re trying to say.

“Mhmm, okay. Is that all you want to talk about? May I step outside and give you some privacy, Miss Eunbi?” Your voice is calm but carries an edge, masking the tension simmering beneath.

“No. Can you stay with me a little longer? I get kind of lonely sometimes.” Her voice drops a notch, softer, almost vulnerable, and you catch the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

You glance at her, the dim light casting soft shadows across her face. Reluctantly, you nod. “What else do you want to ask, Eunbi?”

Casually dropping the ‘miss’ is intentional. Psychologically, she’ll feel a lot better and let you out quicker. You’re playing it smart by controlling the situation. Not in a bad way, that is.

She shifts slightly on the chair, the subtle rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. “How does a woman become a bodyguard? I swear, I saw one standing by my door. Why is she dressed totally different from you?”

“Her call sign is ‘Ghost.’ She’s dressed as a staff member for obvious reasons.”

“And about the guy who escorted me to the room... why does he walk weird after we left you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. The faint hum of the air conditioning fills the pause. “What? Why are you so curious about how people walk? That’s kind of weird.”

“I can’t be curious?” she chuckles and adjust her shirt by the collar, to which, you saw a glimpse of her cleavage. “His right arm doesn’t sway much like his left.”

“Cauliflower on his left ear. A stiff right arm. What comes to your mind? He’s the scariest bodyguard here, Eunbi.”

“And you’re not the scariest?” she says, trying to sound sharp, her eyes flickering up and down your figure. “Your nickname should be ‘Little Boss’ then.”

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply. It’s actually an understatement. Some things are better left unsaid.

She shrugs, clearly unimpressed. “You’re kind of boring.”

“Yeah, sorry for getting your hopes up or something. But I have to get going out there. We can talk after everything is done, Eunbi.”

“Fine. Gosh.” Her voice trails off, a mix of disappointment and amusement.

Once you step out of the room, the cool hallway air hits your face. You catch Shadow’s steady gaze as you smooth your sleeve with a quiet sigh. “Anything from Tango?”

“Tango got up and took the staircase. Ghost is following. Should we not make a move? He’s in a secluded space that people won’t see.”

“We move on my command,” you reply firmly. “Tango isn’t an immediate threat until he does something.”

“Anything on your mind, Boss? A plan B?”

“You’re in charge if anything goes sideways. Stay with Eunbi while I’m out. Coordinate with Delta while Ghost and I handle Tango. And do me a favor—don’t tell Eunbi where I am.”

“I—yes, Boss.”

“Did you want to say something?” you ask, your tone softening.

Shadow hesitates, then nods. “I’m not sure Ghost can keep up with your pace.”

“You know her. She’s a tough fighter.” You adjust your earpiece, glancing at Shadow as he acknowledges your words. “Delta, do you Roger? Over.”

“Roger.”

“Go to the lobby and be on standby to escort Miss Eunbi’s manager when they return. Check six and twelve.”

“Roger that, Boss. But what about Tango? I don’t have a good feeling.”

“Ghost and I will handle him. I need you and Shadow to watch Eunbi closely.”

“Boss, I’m against that,” Delta says firmly. “I’ll go in your place.”

Shadow cuts in over the radio, voice sharp and unwavering. “Just listen and do what you’re told, Delta. Don’t make things harder for Boss. He’s not in the mood.”

You lean in beside Shadow and reply quietly, “Shadow…”

And things heat up quickly, out of nowhere.

“Didn’t Boss pull some strings to get you out of prison after seeing you stomping a creep nearly to death? You know damn well you would’ve done time for that. Most people don’t get a second chance after, but somehow, Boss saw something worth saving you from being locked in a cell," Delta snaps back.

“Okay, army brat. Still got that army ego, huh? Always itching for a fight, always ready to kill? Gosh, the military’s the only place you can get away with murder, isn’t it?” Shadow fires back. “Be glad Boss took you in and gave you a second chance. Otherwise, you’d be dead broke, fighting for a country that didn’t give a damn about you afterward.”

“Hey, fucking quit it,” you radio back in a not-so-friendly tone, glaring directly at Shadow with your eyes silently saying, “Don’t make me put you in check.” The radio goes silent for what feels like minutes as you close your eyes, trying to regain some calm after losing a fair bit of your cool.

“Sorry about that, Boss,” Delta finally replies over the radio.

“I’m taking full responsibility for what can happen. Understand that. Acknowledge all.”

“Roger,” delta responds back on the radio.

“Roger,” Shadow responds beside you.

You wait for one more reply—but Ghost doesn’t respond. No verbal answer, not even the faint double-tap on the earpiece that usually signals acknowledgment or silent confirmation.

“Ghost, do you copy?” you radio. “Ghost?”

Your mind races to one conclusion—something’s wrong. You glance at Shadow, who’s staring back at you, his expression darkening with concern. There’s no time to hesitate, no time to gamble on hope. Without another word, you sprint toward the stairwell, pounding down the steps two at a time while Shadow stays behind and watches Eunbi.

“Delta, be advised, Boss is engaging. Standby,” Shadow radios to Delta.

The sudden rush of footsteps draws Eunbi’s attention. She opens the door, startled to see only Shadow standing there. “Where’s… um… your boss?”

“He’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t worry. Your manager should be back any minute now. The radio show isn’t starting for another hour. Get some rest, Miss Eunbi.”

“Did your boss run to the bathroom again?”

Shadow exhales a short, quiet sigh—part amused, part tense. Her question might’ve been funny under normal circumstances, but the situation is far from that. “No, Miss.”

Meanwhile, you’ve already turned the corner, racing down three flights of stairs. As you hit the landing, your eyes lock onto Ghost against the wall, one hand clutching her stomach, her fingers slick with blood.

“Where did he go?” you ask, breath caught somewhere between panic and command.

Ghost winces, jaw clenched, and points toward the nearby stairwell door. “I’m fine. Go get him. He has a knife,” she gasps.

You catch sight of her earpiece on the floor—shattered, useless. She never got the chance to signal. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone, hit the emergency line, and hand it to her with the speaker on. You trust her holding on until help arrives and you quickly leave her to deal with the threat.

“Ghost’s been stabbed. Delta, inform the front desk to shut every door. My orders. Execute, now!” you radio and run full speed quickly after, hoping to catch the threat before anyone gets hurt.

“Lima Charlie, Boss,” Delta responds quickly.

“Going dark,” you declare, slipping your earpiece off and continue to run.

Every scream you hear only pulls you closer, feet pounding against the floor as you run. Your mind is spiraling with frustration and anger burning hot. You should’ve handled the threat earlier. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. But deep down, you know you couldn’t have moved until now.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you spot the threat—knife out, yelling at the broadcast station staffs, demanding something you can’t quite hear over the chaos. But you're past the point of negotiation. One of your own is bleeding out, and you have every right to act in defense.

The staff freeze at the sight of you charging forward. There’s no hesitation in your stride, no warning in your eyes. You’re locked on target, and nothing else matters. In one swift motion, you slam into the threat, driving him hard into the wall. The crack of impact echoes through the hallway as the side of his face smashes against the concrete. You hope the shock will dislodge the knife—but he doesn’t let go. Behind you, the staff break into screams, scattering and sprinting to safety, putting as much distance between themselves and the scene as they can.

And to what you don’t expect, he maintains his balance and grips his knife. But looking down at his knife still in his hands and how he’s holding onto the knife like an amateur, you don’t expect much. The threat takes a good look at you and points the knife right at you.

“Just give up and put it down,” you warn him.

“Scared?” he laughs and charges at you.

Being rushed at took you by surprise. And neither was calming down the situation was an option anymore as you dodge his knife attack easily from how slow he swung. It also took him by surprise. You quickly take this window as an opportunity to charge right at him as an exchange of force.

He tries to fight you off by lowering his arm down, getting the knife sideways with an intent of swinging it out once it connects to your stomach. You know this all too well in an instant as he tries to swing right at you instead after knowing that targeting your stomach was difficult. And neither did that work when you lowered yourself to punch him right in the ribcage. It worked a little too well that he stumbled and lean against the wall for a split second.

From what you just observed and did, you’re not expecting a long fight.

“Are you done?” you say, trying to provoke him, trying to get in his mind while he groans in pain.

He’s not giving up without a fight, or even worse, until you’re seriously hurt by him. Without an answer, he sees you approaching him at the corner of his eyes, and that’s where he strikes you with his knife, slashing your left outer forearm in a clean straight line from a quick defensive maneuver.

You felt every single bit of that slash despite your body fueling you with adrenaline.

But quickly and smartly, you back off and hear the sirens in the distance. To what he doesn’t expect, you stood your ground and crack the bones in your neck, smirking. He doesn’t like anything about how calm you are, even after you lowered your guard to where he got lucky to get a hit on you.

Trying to disarm him was a plan, but with how he’s waving his knife around carelessly for you to not jump back in, it’s not worth a risk. Despite reading his movements, all you can see is how vulnerable his chest was.

One big mistake from you can lead to his death from how the sharp side of the knife can be turned against him with just a strong push. This is something you want to prevent yourself from doing. Neither would it look great.

“Don’t be scared, come at me,” you say, provoking him again as he charges at you blindly, knife aimed dead-center at your stomach like it’s all he’s ever trained for. Very predictable.

You quickly counter him with a sidestep, just enough to let the blade miss, then drive a short, jab to his liver. That would definitely make anyone drop in seconds no matter how tough they are. But he still won’t let go of the knife. He twists with the momentum, swinging back at you—this time the blade grazes your side, then suddenly, you feel it sink in.

Your breath catches as the cold steel bites into your side. The pain blooms fast, hot—but your mind stays clear. You don’t pull away. Instead, you drag him with you, shoving both of you toward the wall, using every ounce of muscle to keep the blade from driving deeper as he suddenly looses all his strength and drops down. You quickly follow, pinning him to the ground before he can recover.

In the back of your mind, time is ticking. The knife isn’t lodged in you. You can already feel the warm trickle soaking onto your shirt, the sharp throb in your side growing louder with each heartbeat. You press your knee harder into his spine, just enough to make him stop squirming.

“Learn how to use a knife properly,” you say, which provokes him. He tries squirming around to get out but you apply pressure to his back, hurting him more and more.

“Ah. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Okay! Damn!” he screams in pain. His breathing is abnormal because of the liver shot delivered from you. “Get the fuck—.”

“Stay down while I’m being nice. And be glad I didn’t hit you hard,” you quietly say with a growl and look around, then back down to him. “Should I demonstrate where it would be better to kill you quickly?”

He doesn’t answer, everything you’re saying is scary when you’re in hands reach of his knife. Waves of dizziness starts to settle, the feeling of nausea kicks in as he groans from the pain, his vision starts to blur.

“It’ll be quick. You’ll feel it for about thirty seconds until your body goes into shock within a minute,”you say quickly, wanting to bring some sort of panic from him on purpose.

All you’re doing is scaring him. And neither was he good enough to put up a fight while armed with a knife. However, you did underestimated the sudden jolt of his willpower that got you hurt in the process. You’ll blame yourself for thinking he would drop the second you punched his liver without too much force.

“You’re just a thug… in a suit,” he slurs. “Another dog… for those soft, rich bastards. Leashed… till they say go.” He grunts, groaning in agony as you slam his face into the cold ground.

You didn’t like what he said one bit.

Within the moments of listening to his words, you wouldn’t say he was wrong—but being called a thug? That was over the line. You don’t want him to think he got in your head—even if he did.

“I don’t need your sympathy. I enjoy preying on people like you. And just to correct you, some hunting dogs can’t ever be controlled by a leash.”

He chokes on his cough, “you’re—fucking insane.”

“Be glad you’re still alive. Your chest looked like an easy target, the way you swung your knife around. You wouldn’t want to see your knife lodged in your heart, wouldn’t you? Especially from your own hands? How about a deep slash to your Achilles tendon? You won’t walk the same after.”

“Fucking psychopath,” he says, spitting his saliva on the ground, wheezing and groaning.

“Say it again,” you murmur and sigh. “You’re no different. You picked the wrong hunting dog and you’ll pay for it by being locked in a cage.”

Yet, despite toning down your aggression and daring him to repeat himself, he stays quiet. At the corner of your eyes, you see police officers running towards you. Slowly, you get off of the threat as he lays down exhausted, and voluntarily.

“Requesting additional medical support,” the police officer says into his radio, his calm, steady voice echoing faintly down the hallway as another officer walks alongside him.

Glancing down at the side of your stomach, you spot the wound. It doesn’t feel deep, but the moment your hand presses against it, pain flares, sharp and pulsing. Blood seeps through your shirt and fingers, faster than you expected, though it’s not the worst you’ve seen. Your grip weakens, but your face stays steady, calm and composed, like this isn’t the first time.

——

It’s the next day, a perfect day to be alone in your quiet house, resting as your injuries slowly heal. Peace settles over everything, undisturbed, until the sharp chime of the front doorbell cuts through the silence at fifteen minutes past noon. The unexpected sound piques your curiosity; you weren’t expecting anyone.

You glance at the front door camera and see Eunbi standing there. It’s completely unexpected. What surprises you even more is that she came alone with her car parked right in your driveway. With a quiet breath, you walk over and unlock the door, ready to greet her.

“Hey, so… um, I heard about yesterday,” Eunbi says, handing you a small bouquet of flowers along with her album and the extra goodies she promised. “I know men don’t usually get flowers, but I thought you might appreciate this.”

“Hi, and… thank you?” you say, a bit confused as you take the gifts from her hands. Flowers from her felt strange, beyond strange, but you appreciate the gesture. “Should I wire you the money? I’m supposed to pay for the album.”

“No, it’s alright. Please take it as a thank-you gift for watching over me yesterday. My manager made sure to send copies to your agency for your colleagues, and I personally signed each one. I promise."

“That’s nice of you, Eunbi,” you say, feeling the smooth weight of the album in your hands. A quiet moment settles between you. The sincerity of her gesture lingers in the air.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, and a quiet silence lingers between you again for a few seconds.

The stillness feels a little heavy, as if neither of you quite knows what to say next. There’s an unspoken distance between the two of you, neither close enough to fill the silence comfortably. You glance away briefly, the awkwardness settling in as the gap lingers just a bit too long.

“How did you get my address?” you ask. It’s a simple question, but the slight hesitation in your voice betrays your curiosity, and maybe a touch of awkwardness.

“My manager contacted your agency.”

You nod slowly, acknowledging it’s reasonable. “Alright. You probably had a good explanation to get them to give out my address so easily.”

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why would I?”

“You know, I… I didn’t mean to bother or annoy you yesterday or today, or even jinx anything from happening, Oppa."

“Yesterday? Oh, that’s just because I just didn’t want you to know what was happening.”

“Awh, that’s sweet of you. But are you doing anything today? I got in because your gate was opened. Were you going somewhere?”

“No, someone dropped off a med kit since I was running low. And sorry, I think you should head home. Not in a mood to talk.”

She didn’t like your response one bit. She was expecting you to comply. “Please? Aren’t we friends?”

“Are we?” you reply, tilting your head slightly to the right, a hint of skepticism flickering in your eyes.

“Are we not?” she counters back. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Like what?”

“Let me in,” she says, letting out a cautious, suppressed chuckle.

You turn around, rolling your eyes in mild irritation, and walk away from the door. You’re not in the mood, but you can’t bring yourself to force her out when she hasn’t done anything wrong. “Close the door after you get in,” you call over your shoulder.

Eunbi shuts the door behind her and quickly slips off her shoes. As she moves towards you, her eyes scan the space—much bigger, more modern, and sleeker than the small apartment she’s used to. “How much are you paying for this house?”

“That’s private information,” you say, opening the med kit in the living room and pulling out a small bandage to replace the one on your left arm.

“Ah, that’s right, you’re the boss. It’s not just a nickname. I get it now,” Eunbi says, sitting down beside you on the couch, hands resting quietly in her lap. “Bet it’s paid off, right?”

“No comment.”

She’s quietly taking you in—observing how you don’t treat her like a famous celebrity and how you’re letting her make herself at home. You weren’t the first to invite her in when it’s something she’d expect, but what surprised her most was that you didn’t ask for a photo or autograph. It’s eye-opening for her. For the first time, she feels like her fame has been gently stripped away, and it’s a strangely comforting feeling.

As her gaze shifts to your arm, a flicker of sympathy crosses her face. She begins to feel bad for what you endured yesterday. The room falls silent for what feels like minutes as you carefully peel the plastic off the adhesive.

“I’m sorry, Oppa.”

You meet Eunbi’s gaze, catching the genuine regret in her eyes. You shrug lightly, a small, reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “What are you sorry for? It’s my job, Eunbi.”

“But is violence always the answer? Even when you’re not the one causing the problem?”

“It’s better to calm things down with words,” you say, pausing to press the adhesive firmly onto your arm so it won’t come loose. “But who am I to say that when my colleague got stabbed? Would you do the same as me?”

“I would.”

“I assumed so,” you murmur and reach for the med kit to tightly close as it clicks in place.

“Can I ask you something?” Eunbi says hesitantly. You lean back on the couch, catching her uncertain expression before she meets your gaze. “Uh… how does it feel, being in a situation like yesterday? Is it scary?”

“You don’t focus on how it feels. You focus on what needs to be done. Ask a firefighter, they’d say the same.”

“Were you scared, though?” she asks, glancing at you as you look down at your own hands. You take a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly before you finally meet her gaze.

“Hmm, it feels like a Sunday night when you know you have to get up and work the next day,” you chuckle, teasing a little as you look at her. “You just gotta get used to it and deal with it, ya know?”

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, looking away to catch your reflection alongside hers in the TV screen. “But you’re kind of hot to be annoying.”

There she goes again—flirting. But this time, Eunbi doesn’t meet your eyes, even as you watch her closely. It makes you wonder: what other creative tactics does she have up her sleeve?

“My manager told me you got stitches,” Eunbi says, glancing back at you with a curious look.

“I did. Why?”

“Can I see it?”

Should you let her see your stitches? Neither are you close to comfortably lift your shirt up for her to see. But you couldn’t stop being curious on what she’s trying to do. You’ll be more than willingly to stir something up as the tension between the two of you grows. Because what’s really the reason why she’s staying this long?

“Sure,” you say, lifting the side of your shirt to reveal the stitches beneath a gauze pad. For whatever reason, time seems to slow as Eunbi reaches toward the wound without asking. Your hand snaps up, catching her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She feels the firmness of your grip—but also the unexpected warmth in your touch. Her wrist is slender beneath your hand, your fingers overlapping with controlled pressure, restraint held just at the edge of release.

“Do you… like, feel lonely sometimes?” Eunbi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks a lot shyer now, like she’s bracing for something—your answer, maybe, or the silence that might follow. Her eyes meet your gaze, unsure if crossing the line between the two of you meant being pushed away.

You’re still gripping her wrist. The tension hasn’t broken—if anything, it’s sharpened, suspended in the space between you. Her skin is warm beneath your fingers, her pulse steady but not quite calm. You don’t speak right away, and in that pause, the weight of her question lingers—louder than either of you expected. In the stillness, your eyes lock, and the two of you stare at each other for just a little too long.

If anything can be read through her eyes, it’s not just curiosity—it’s a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea for a sense of connection. Her gaze holds steady, soft yet unguarded, and though she doesn’t move closer, there’s a tension there—like she’s daring you to close the space between you.

“I remember you saying you get lonely sometimes, Eunbi,” you whisper. “I get it. I do too.”

She slowly leans in, close enough that you catch a faint trace of her scent. “We’re more alike than you think,” she murmurs. “Sometimes alone, sometimes in a crowd. Always on the move—city to city, country to country, barely any rest. Surrounded by people, by fans, but the loneliness creeps in when no one's around."

You see her point—there’s truth in it—but you’re not ready to buy into it. “I like the way you think, Eunbi,” you say quietly, “but no.”

Eunbi lets out a soft laugh, tilting her head. “So you’re saying no but in a really attractive way. Are you always this charming when you reject people?”

You try to stay composed, keeping your thoughts and lust in check. But it’s hard when she’s this close. The way her tits sit leaves a lot to the imagination when the line of her bra is just barely visible from her tight shirt. And that smile—the way she’s looking at you with steady eyes pulls your desire. The silence stretches with unspoken tension. Your gaze drops to her lips, then back up to her eyes. You crave her, no question. But still, you hesitate.

Your quietness lingers too long to where she adds on with a murmur, leaving her pride out, “have me today, will you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, your gaze locked onto hers, surprised as she reaches for your other hand and places it gently on her chest.

“I get a lot of messages from men. I know exactly what they want from me. But how come you’re not asking or trying to seduce me? I know my boobs are big and all, but are you more of an ass guy?”

You gulp, genuinely unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to play it cool, but another part is caught off guard—unsure whether to joke, deflect, or be honest. Honestly, what the hell are you even supposed to say in a moment like this?

“Am I not pretty enough?” she teases, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “How hard do you want to play before I have you wrapped around my finger?” She chuckles softly, leaning in just a little closer. “You’re pretty feisty. Try kissing me. Might just change your mind.”

You lean in even closer, and she closes her eyes, silently waiting for your lips wherever you dare choose to place them. But what you’re really doing is trying to read her pulse through her wrist—it’s racing faster from your playful teasing. Despite that, Eunbi gently slips her hand under your shirt, pressing her small palm against your chest, silently daring you to make the next move.

She opens her eyes with a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face for having to close them. She sighs softly, “can you stop playing hard to get? I need your help taking off my clothes, you know. Just for a while, make me feel vulnerable. Make me feel wanted.”

“What do I get in return?” you ask with a smirk, finally releasing her wrist that your right hand had been holding onto for what felt like forever.

She pushes you back against the couch’s backrest, straddling you as she leans in close. Her lips find your neck in a quick, heated kiss, and she murmurs softly, “anything.”

You slowly pull Eunbi into your embrace, your left hand sliding from her chest to rest gently at her side. Her curious lips explore you with delicate warmth, and in that quiet closeness, you both find something you’ve been needing—raw, unguarded connection. You want more. Those soft, inviting lips deserve to be kissed deeply, and her body craves the touch only you can give.

“Let me take you to my bed after,” you whisper, feeling Eunbi’s soft lips trail along the side of your neck, devouring you completely. A shiver runs down your spine, your breath catching as warmth floods your body, every nerve ignited by her touch.

“I’d love that,” she chuckles, pulling away just enough to grab both your hands. She compares them, hers noticeably smaller than yours. With a playful smile, she laughs softly, “It’s ironic how your hands were clenched into fists yesterday, but today I’m holding them like I might get manhandled.”

“Is that what you want, Eunbi?” you tease, a slow smile spreading as a playful smirk curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Well…,” she pauses, eyes softening as she glances down at your wound with a hint of playful concern. “Oppa, why don’t you just lie back and let me take care of everything?”

You like her idea—there’s something tempting about letting her take control, but you know damn well you’re not in any shape to do much with that injury to the side of your stomach. It’s a bittersweet feeling: wanting to be involved, yet needing to surrender to the moment.

“Sounds good?” she asks, her fingers lightly tracing the side of your jaw. You can’t help but appreciate the tenderness in her touch—so gentle, especially after the seriousness you showed just yesterday.

“I’m sorry that you have to do most of the work today,” you softly say.

She chuckles softly at your sincerity. “Isn’t that what friends are for? Sometimes we go out of our way just to help a little.”

“You said I can have anything from you, right? Let’s meet next time we’re both free, Eunbi. I’ll make it up.”

“Oh, so manly. You’re not going to take back those words, are you?”

You nod, tilting your head side to side. She finds the gesture way cuter than she expected. “Should we move to a more comfortable place? Your bed?”

With a quiet groan, you lift her into your arms. Eunbi can’t help but giggle, surprised by your sudden strength—and the fact she’s being carried. As you step into the bedroom, the door left slightly opened and forgotten, your eyes stay locked on her, drawn to her eyes.

“Lay down,” she urges softly, tapping your back. “I’ll take it from here.”

After Eunbi slides off, you rest your head on the pillow, eyes fixed on her curves. She slowly undresses herself by taking off her shirt to reveal the light pink bra she has on. You can’t help but admire how stunning she looks by feeling a heat rising inside you as your mind drifts to the thought of your face buried between her tits.

Eunbi grips her waistband, her knees locking in place as she bends down to slide her pants off, letting them fall softly to the floor. You lick your lips and swallow hard, eyes locked on her every move. She teases you with a small, playful sway before crawling onto the bed, settling herself gently on top.

“You’re hot. So damn hot,” you compliment her as your hand brushes against the smooth curve of her thighs up to her hips.

She lowers herself, closing her eyes as her lips part slightly before pressing softly against yours. Like the gentle tide meeting the shore, Eunbi’s touch is both tender and inevitable. You feel the warmth of her breath, the soft weight of her body pressing close. A smile tugs at her lips as she parts just enough to murmur, “may I undress you, handsome?”

Your whispered consent barely leaves your lips before her thighs wrap around you, firm yet inviting, locking you in place. As she pulls your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your cock springs free, catching her gaze. Eunbi lets out a slow, deep sigh— the kind that speaks of quiet relief, of tension finally easing as desire takes over.

“It’s so hard,” she chuckles, covering her mouth with one hand, a playful glint in her eyes. With her other hand, she hesitantly traces the waistband of her own panties, fingers trembling slightly as she savors the slow burn between you. There’s no rush—just the tension of anticipation, every second stretching out.

“Come back down and let me take your bra off, Eunbi,” you murmur, voice low and steady, eyes locking with hers. “Just slide your panties to the side.”

She crawls closer, leaning down so you can wrap your arms around her waist and unhook her bra with ease. Her breath brushes against your ear as she whispers, “can’t help but crave my body?”

“Whatever you say,” you murmur playfully, pulling her face closer to press a soft kiss to her lips. Your eyes close as your arms tighten around her. Your tongues dance slowly, teasing and exploring, exchanging heated breaths that mingle with the warmth of the room. Every second, you lose yourself more—the feel of her body, the taste of her lips—completely captivated by such a beauty.

But all that tenderness disappears the moment she breaks away from your lips with a heavy breath and sits upright. “I can’t wait any longer, Oppa.”

You clearly see the dark, damp spot spreading on her panties—proof enough that you’ve already stirred something deep inside her. Without even touching, you’ve got her this wet. The anticipation in Eunbi’s eyes is unmistakable as she slowly crawls back, settling on one knee while spreading the other leg wide. You reach out your hand, offering support in case she loses balance on the soft bed.

Eunbi spits on her hand and wraps it around the tip of your cock as it throbs from a touch. Then with a quick glance at you, she slides her panties to the side and slowly brushes the tip of your cock on her pussy in a teasing way before she slips it in. Both of you exchange a moan the moment you feel the tight hug and Eunbi feeling the length of your cock sliding into her slick walls.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, followed by a soft grunt. Your cock hasn’t even fully disappeared inside her, yet, Eunbi is already struggling to take every inch.

“Don’t rush it, Eunbi,” you let out a breath, feeling the warmth of her walls tighten around your cock.

Her breath catches, and a soft whimper barely escapes her lips. “Oh my gosh,” Eunbi moans, voice trembling with a mix of surprise and pleasure as she arches her back.

You gently grasp her wrist, guiding Eunbi down to lie on top of you. She exhales a heavy, shuddering breath as your bodies press close. “You feel so good, Eunbi,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire for every touch of her skin.

“You’re really stretching me out," she murmurs with her breath soft against the pillow, the warmth of her tits pressing onto your chest. Eunbi moves slowly, riding you with a measured rhythm, savoring each sensation of your cock penetrating her tight pussy—just enough to keep the pleasure building without overwhelming herself and you.

Your lips trail along her shoulders, tasting the warmth of her skin as she muffles a soft moan into the pillow. Your breaths grow heavier, syncing with the rhythm of her movements, while your hands roam freely, exploring the curve of her back before reaching down to her ass. You grab and squeeze, claiming them like it’s all yours with a gentle slap right after.

“So—,” she catches her breath, “aggressive.”

“Sounds like you enjoy it,” you reply back to her with a growl.

“I love it. A lot.”

And that was the last conversation for a few minutes. She’s not riding you hard. She takes every inch slowly, savoring the moment while your cock disappears in and out of her. You let Eunbi moan freely while hearing your own breath catch in her ear. It’s a wordless, therapeutic exchange—your bodies speaking for each other in perfect harmony.

“Eunbi,” you gulp and let a breath out, breaking the passionate silence, “hold on.”

“Can’t help it?” Eunbi murmurs, pausing as she feels your cock throbbing deep inside her. She leans close to your ear, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “I don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Well, if she doesn’t want you to cum yet, you want her to, on your cock, from your very hands. You’ll make this Waterbomb goddess breathless with her toes curling up. “May you sit up, Eunbi? I want to see how pretty you are.”

That’s one way to make Eunbi’s heart skip a beat. She’s not used to hearing this side of you, and it catches her completely off guard.

“A little flirty, aren’t you?” she gets up slowly from the pillow, chuckling with a smile. Her smile is charming—you’ll admit it, but your attention starts shifting to her tits. She tracks your eyes and grabs your hands, guiding you to touch her tits. “I know you love them.”

“Who honestly wouldn’t?” you murmur and squeeze her tits, playing with them as she grinds on your cock. She holds onto both your forearms as grip while continuing to grind on you.

“Such big arms,” she seductively says, letting out a quiet moan and stares at you for a reply. “How lucky would a woman be to have you?”

“Extremely,” you say, teasing her. She quickly rolls her eyes, getting so annoyed of your cheeky response. It’s almost like she expected that. “What’s wrong, Eunbi?” you softly chuckle to play innocent, when you can assume she’s hating.

“Fuck you,” she chuckles along with you and pauses from grinding to guide your hands to her hips.

“But you are though,” you quickly reply, staring at each other in the eyes, which, you aren’t going to look away until she does. “Take a breath, Eunbi. Slow down if you have to. We have time.”

“Why do you stare at me like that, Oppa?” she says, brushing her thumb on your arm.

“Like… what?”

“You have charming eyes. No one told you?”

You shrug, unsure if she’s just bluffing because she’s on top of you with your cock deep inside her.

“It’s a compliment, by the way,” she murmurs and rides you slowly, not breaking eye contact. But you can clearly see how pink her cheeks have gotten. Slowly, you trace one hand down from her tits to her crotch as she lets go from your arms and place it on your chest. You slowly rub her clit as she lets out a whimper with her body quivering. “It’s sensitive, Oppa,” she moans.

Well, that just makes it a whole lot easier.

“I want you to cum, Eunbi.”

She stops riding you once the tip of your fingers rub her clit in circles. Eunbi’s moans get loud, neither are you stopping when your cock is lodged so deep that you can feel every pulsation from her walls. She struggles to even position still on top. You’re enjoying this, a lot. Just hearing the beautiful voice of hers makes you want more.

“Oppa,” she murmurs out with a groan and her body starts quivering uncontrollably, grinding gently on your cock. Eunbi’s breath turns heavier, arching her back, closing her eyes as she faces up towards the ceiling, cumming hard with her hands gripping onto your chest. It’s a sight to see her tits mashing each together with the body spasms as she continues to whimper and moan. Eunbi quickly grabs onto your hand, stopping you from rubbing her clip. She can’t handle more as she lets out a gasp, begging you to take it a little easy on her.

“Come back down, Eunbi,” you murmur, pulling her down as you’re greeted with her tits in your face. So without a single hesitation, you suck on them—both sides in respectful turns. Her breaths are still heavy as she rides out her orgasm. You burry your face between them and catch a breath, all while she smiles from all the sensitive nerves being felt from her chest and your cock.

“I told you my pussy is very sensitive,” Eunbi chuckles in between her breaths.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, not a thought of stopping from feasting on her tits.

She continues to ride your cock slowly. There’s a sense of shyness from Eunbi after you made her cum. Every subtle touch and attention of yours makes her have some closure like she wanted.

You take a breath as she doesn’t stop pushing back down onto your cock. “Keep going. Just like that, Eunbi.”

“Love it that much?” she murmurs and lets out a seductive chuckle.

“Yeah,” you utter, gasping. Your hands reach to her ass for a tight, yet gentle squeeze.

Eunbi can tell you’re reaching your limit from how creamy and slick your cock’s penetrating into her. If Eunbi can make you have a memory of her, she’ll want this next moment to be for you. If she’s all smiling and laughing on your screen, Eunbi wants you to know that there’s still unfinished business the more she waits for a second time together.

“Cum,” she murmurs, kissing your neck, “cum inside this tight, little pussy.” Then she takes a quick breath, “it’s all yours, handsome.”

“Don’t slow down,” you gasp, grunting as Eunbi smiles by the way she picks up the pace. Feeling every throb, every breath onto her tits, and hearing your moans, you cum, making her feel the warmth of you cumming inside her. However deep Eunbi wanted it, you couldn’t stop cumming from how good this felt.

Eunbi pauses with your cock throbbing less and less every second. You feel her lips pressing against your neck, then up to your own. She gives you a kiss on the lips, almost like a passionate thank-you gift—another one.

“I let you cum in me for a reason, Oppa,” she murmurs, quickly pressing her lips back onto yours, intentionally not letting you speak a word. However, you’ll throw that to the side for now when her soft lips are craving more.

——

Eunbi lies beside you, her fingers gently tracing the edges of the bandage on your arm. You run your hand through her hair with slow care, both of you half-dressed, bodies still warm from the closeness. The room is quiet, wrapped in a kind of peaceful intimacy.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks out of the blue, her voice soft and curious. Her pointer finger begins to trace slow circles over the bandage on your arm where the wound rests beneath. It’s a gentle, soft gesture—part playful, part intimate—as if she’s feeling out your answer not just in words, but through your body.

“The sex?” you reply.

“Yeah,” she chuckles shyly, unable to look at you.

“I did, Eunbi.”

She’s glad you enjoyed it, and with a smile, she giggles, “I needed that after working so hard for these past few months. I feel so… relieved.”

“It just had to be with me, wasn’t it?” you chuckle and tease her as she looks down at the side of your stomach where your stitches were.

“I couldn’t help it, Oppa. You let me in your home despite the fame I have. I’m sure I wasn’t the only woman in this bed.”

“You don’t think any less of me for that… do you, Eunbi?” you ask quietly, your gaze steady but your tone carrying the weight of curiosity.

“I get it. And I don’t think I’m the only one who’d feel this way. You didn’t treat me like some celebrity when I walked in. You weren’t chasing after anything, not my fame, not my body. It didn’t feel like you had some hidden motive. You’re… a good guy. I respect that.”

You look at Eunbi with a genuine smile, meeting each other’s eyes, “thank you.”

It’s a simple compliment, bit enough to make her heart flutter. “If anything, I should be the one saying thank you,” she murmurs with a small smile.

“Then kiss me if you mean it,” you laugh as she playfully hits you on the chest gently.

“You’re annoying,” Eunbi chuckles.

“But I’m too hot to be annoying, right?”

She’ll ignore the question, only because she doesn’t want to admit it again. “Do you want me to stay over tonight? Actually, may I? If you’re not busy?”

“I have a debriefing tomorrow in the early afternoon. Will that work for you?”

“What’s that?”

“Just going over about what happened yesterday. What went wrong, what could have been prevented, you know, those stuff. It’s required.”

“Are you there as the Boss or a colleague?”

You smirk, and teasingly chuckle in her face with no intentions of telling her.

She rolls her eyes at you with a chuckle. “Okay, yeah, I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon too. Give me your phone number before I forget.”

[docrobinavitch]

been thinking a lot about abbott or robby finding out that gf!reader bought a ✨toy✨ sometime before they were together (maybe a rabbit vibe or something like that??) but it’s in her closet in the box and never has been opened because she was too nervous to use it or something, and then deciding they have to change that

hi hehe this literally made me go fucking insane teehee trying to be so normal about this um anyway this has not been proofread so hope it's not too insane ok love u thank u for the request nonnie u are sooooo big brain jack abbot x f!reader masterlist literally pure filth below the cut idk what to say u guys

“Babe,” Jack called down the hallway, “Have you seen my army sweatpants?”

It was an unseasonably cold day for late June. Rain came in spurts and fits, making soothing sounds against the window panes. They had had a slow Saturday morning, original plans to go the Farmer’s Market cancelled and replaced with coffee in bed and playing round after round of Street Fighter on your Switch (Jack could not accept defeat even when it became clear he would never fucking beat you) until close to noon.

Now you were in the kitchen starting a soup for dinner. He could just barely hear the rhythmic sounds of the knife against the cutting board and one of your playlists playing quietly in the background.

“I may have stolen them,” You called back, “Did you check my closet?”

He chuckled to himself, “No. Why would I check your closet for my clothes?”

“I think I put them on the top shelf!” You called, ignoring his snide comment.

He shook his head, a smirk on his face, as he went to search your closet. You were always stealing his clothes. It was difficult to be annoyed about it though, because he loved seeing you in them.

He spotted them almost immediately, in the corner on the shelf as you said. But as he pulled on them, a box fell down with them.

Jack bent to pick it up— And frowned when he saw what it was. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face. A vibrator. It was a shape he recognized, a rabbit, with a large shaft for penetration and a smaller one for clitoral stimulation. And by the looks of it, it was unopened.

“Hey, did you find—?“ You were still drying your hands on a dish towel when you stopped in the doorway of your closet.

Jack slowly looked up from the box, smirking at you as he did, turning it so you could see the picture on the cover, “What’s this?”

Immediately you were blushing, “Um, I just… I—I bought it when I was single and… and then we started dating and I didn’t…” You swallowed, noting that he seemed endlessly amused by how flustered you were, “I didn’t have need for it. Once we started dating.”

He looked at the box and then back to you, still smiling, “You didn’t even open it?”

You shrugged, “As I said, I didn’t have need for it.”

“But you kept it.”

You opened your mouth— Then closed it. Finally, you shrugged, “I don’t know. I was curious.”

“Well, we should open it then.”

If you were red before, your face became an inferno now as you snatched the box from his hands, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” You began to walk past him into the closet to put it away, but Jack lightly grabbed your arm as you tried to move past him.

“Look, I… I won’t force you, obviously, but… There’s no need to be so shy with me, you know?” He gently took your chin in his fingers and turned your head so you were looking at him, “I think it’s really hot.”

Finally, you managed a small smile, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Did you finish the soup?”

You blinked at the sudden change of subject, “Uh, yeah. It has to simmer for a few hours.”

“Good,” He looked back down at the box in your hands, “How many orgasms do you think you can take before you’re begging me to stop?”

He watched your throat bob as your breathing hitched, “I guess we’ll find out?” You said, voice high and breathy.

He looked up at you, inhaling slowly as he did, and you watched his hazel eyes dilate with desire in real time.

“Why don’t you strip and get on the bed?” He said softly and pulled the box from your grasp.

You did as you were told, heat already stirring between your legs as you watched Jack get everything ready. Hyper focused as he tears open the box and begins pacing around your bedroom, grabbing a towel, grabbing lube, washing the new vibrator with soap and warm water.

He laid out a towel over the bed sheets and lightly pat it with his hand in silent invitation. Heart pounding, you laid down against the pillows, on top of the towel.

Jack seemed calm on the outside, but inside he was freaking the fuck out, looking at you sprawled naked on that towel, just waiting for him to touch you. Crawling over you, he placed a kiss on your forehead, “You’re okay?” He asked quietly.

Because he felt fucking feral, holding that vibrator in his hand, mind racing thinking of all the ways he could fucking torture you and pull orgasm after orgasm until there were tears streaming down your cheeks. But one word from you and he would put it away and act like he wasn’t phased at all. Delegate it to just a fantasy to have in his mind and never to hold.

But you looked up at him with those big puppy eyes of yours and nodded and he swore he would come apart right there. He kissed you slow and tenderly, knotting a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling just enough that you gasped. He was addicted to the sounds you made whenever he touched you, the breathy sighs and the moans. Even the sleepy mewls you made still in sleep when he slipped into bed after a long shift.

Now, though, he wanted you a whimpering mess. Still kissing you, he pressed his thumb down on the vibrator, turning it on to its lowest setting.

Pulling away from you just a bit, he lightly pressed the vibrator to one of your nipples and was rewarded with another sigh as the bud pebbled. When he moved the vibrator to your other nipple, he leaned down to suck the other into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue. Already, already you were moaning so goddamn obscenely, he could feel his cock heavy and full in his briefs.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You stammered, arching your back. Underneath him, he felt your hips keen up, searching for pressure and friction wherever you could find it, “Jack, please.”

He laughed, “Sweetheart, it’s been like, thirty seconds.” He murmured into your neck, kissing and biting as he let the vibrator continue to assault your nipples, “You’re already that needy for me?”

Reaching a hand between your thighs, he was pleasantly surprised to find you absolutely dripping, “Jesus fucking Christ,” He swore under his breath, allowing his finger to sink into you once, twice— and then he pulled it out completely, ignoring the desperate sounds of your whines as he sucked your juices clean off his finger. He made sure you were looking at him as he did so, a mischievous smirk on his face.

You were positively pouting, lower lip pushed out as you continued to try and push your hips up and into him, but he pulled away again. “Alright, alright. Let’s see how you take it, then.”

Still on the lowest setting, he slowly dragged the vibrator up your inner thigh. He wanted you to get a feel for what it felt like, not wanting to overstimulate you too quickly. His eyes were locked on your face every second, still searching to make sure you still wanted this.

Your lust laden eyelids were drooping, but still locked on his. He watched the erratic rise and fall of your chest as he came closer and closer to your center. When the vibrator reached your outer lips, he spent some time circling them and could already see tears accumulating at the corners of your eyes. A pool of your juices had already begun collecting on the towel below you.

As soon as it caught his eye, his cock twitched. There was a dampness pooling in his own pants, but he could wait. There was something about the fact that you were so fucking undone with how little he and the vibrator had touched you that made him feel clinically crazy.

And he knew he wanted the vibrator to do the job, that’s why they were here, but he couldn’t just fucking watch you drip like this and do nothing about it. He needed to fucking taste you or he would lose his goddamn mind.

His tongue was deep inside you so quickly you cried out, a hand blindly reaching to knot itself in his salt and pepper curls. With the free hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh, he pressed the vibrator to your clit, and immediately, you’re coming. The vibrator was so much more stimulation than you were used to, that tears are already streaming down your cheeks as you come down.

Jack sat up, chin slick and shiny from you and reached a thumb to swipe away some of the tears on your cheek, “You wanna keep going?” He asked.

You nod, breathless, “Yes.”

He smirked as he grabbed the bottle of lube. He wasn’t sure that you’d need it, given how fucking soaked you were now with both his saliva and your own come, but just in case, he coated the shaft of the vibrator. It was not as thick or as long as he was, so he imagined you would take it just fine. But even the thought of hurting you unintentionally made him want to tear the world apart. So he’d stretch you slowly, watch you carefully for any discomfort.

When he met you, you had a hard time saying no. Not just to him, to anyone. He had tried to build your confidence, assure you that there was nothing you could say or do that would make him love you any less. And that anyone who couldn’t respect a boundary didn’t deserve your love and respect anyway. It was working, slowly, he thought. But there were still times you faltered when he could tell you wanted to say no. He had become an expert on it, the way your lips twisted to the side, or you avoided eye contact, or frowned just slightly when you said “yes,” but were really thinking “no.”

And so he watched you now as he lined the vibrator up with your entrance and added slow, constant pressure.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He cooed and you whined at the praise, “Tell me what you want, use your words.”

You rutted your hips up, “Please, Jack, more. Need more.”

Your cheeks were still damp from your last orgasm and your forehead slicked with sweat. You were so fucking gorgeous, he thought he might have a stroke just looking at you. And it would be worth it. He pushed the vibrator in, more and more until you were full and eyes rolling back into your head with pleasure. After he had thrusted it in and out a couple of times, he turned the vibrator up to a higher setting and you immediately burst out in sobs.

Jack stilled for a moment, “Should I stop?” He asked, almost panicked, his hand began to pull out—

But your hand grabbed his wrist, pulled it back flush against you as your hips began grinding against it again, “P-Please.” You begged again, a fucking pathetic mess.

He swallowed, hard, and kept thrusting the vibrator in and out of you.

“Jack,” You moaned after a few moments of this, “Jack, baby, want you to touch yourself. Could you do that for me?”

Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to die here. You were going to fucking kill him, he was sure of it. Nodding silently, to stunned to say anything else, he pulled his full cock out of his briefs, hissing as he stroked it once in time with the way he thrust the rabbit in and out of you. He ran a thumb over the pre cum that dripped out of his slit, slicking it over his head and couldn’t stifle the moan that came out.

“Oh, that’s so good,” You moaned, “So hot, Jack, keep going. Want you to come with me, please, could you?”

He’d never seen you like this. The toy had seemed to unlock something in you. Normally so obedient and looking to be told what to do in bed. But now, now you seemed confident enough to ask what you wanted. Tell him what to do to get you off. And it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his fucking life. He would do whatever the fuck you wanted, if you asked for it like this. So sweet and gorgeous as you were on the edge of coming undone again.

He turned the second, smaller shaft on and pressed it to your clit as he sped up the thrusts of both the vibrator and the hand that fisted his cock. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand on his cock, tongue darting out to wet your lips, pure desire lighting up your whole face as you stared at him jerking off in front of you. And it was too fucking much, watching you watch him like that, getting off on him touching himself.

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned and hot white ropes of come were shooting out onto your pussy, covering his hand that was still managing to keep thrusting the vibrator in and out of you. You came only seconds later, still crying and legs shaking uncontrollably as you began to come down.

Both of you breathing hard, he gently pulled the toy out of you and wiped it against the towel that was under you. He laid down next to you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth as he did so.

You rested your sweaty head against his shoulder and the both of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Then, you turned your head slightly to look at him, “Again?” You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

He laughed then, short and loud, “Fuck me,” He groaned, but sat up anyway, “Again.” He agreed.

You were definitely going to fucking kill him.

[blossomflcwer]

I don't like the "rejected you but ended up catching feelings except it's too late" trope

It's the pinnacle of human's vanity/pride, jealousy and possessiveness and as someone who's very interested in psychology and philosophy, I WOULD like it if it was written in that sense

But when it's romanticised like "uh oh! After rejecting you he now tries to keep anyone else away from you because he's jealous! So cute!" I just want to gauge my eyes out

I would also like it if it was "He rejects you because he isn't ready for a relationship except when he is ready, you have moved on" because it would make good angst material : two people who loved each other at different pace, right people wrong time, or something.

But seriously the quirky "I'll ruin your life until you're mine although I'm the one who pushes you away" is a big pet peeve to me. And I kinda exaggerate it RN but it's such a common trope too. It's not cute or endearing, it's anywhere from disheartening (human's vanity) to toxic ("i'll make your life a hell")

[pulletandraptor]

We should change how people feel about this question. We should just casually ask: "Is this [the gap] something you want to talk about? It isn't necessary, but maybe you took a trip to Alaska that we should know about because the time you spent there has informed the skill set necessary for this position. Also, there's something to be said about what it takes to pick Cheetos out of your bra, if that's what you were doing instead. Dealing with unexpected situations is also an important skill."

[transmascaraa]

multiple characters headcanons!

summer vacation time!!

characters: kinich, alhaitham, lyney, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: hello again🫣

Kinich ☆

-90% he's gonna take you to the people of the springs and you can't change my mind

-thanks to knowing mualani she'll probably give you two her house for some time

-while getting ready for the whole vacation is probably gonna be a mess

-i mean ajaw is there soooooo

-he's gonna comment on EVERYTHING and i mean ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

-"EW WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THAT MANY UNDERWEAR WITH YOU?? THAT'S TOO MUCH FOR JUST 7 DAYS!"

-it's best to ignore him tho just to not cause more unnecessary arguments

-and when you're finally there, ajaw MIGHT but JUST MAYBE be a tiny bit less annoying because he's enjoying the vacation himself

-so that's definitely gonna give you more time to spend with kinichhhh

-he cares sm about you and he WILL buy you the most expensive sunscreen because he doesn't want you to end up BURNED

------------------------------------------------------

Alhaitham ✯

-he's gonna take you somewhere where HE enjoys being so if you end up not liking it he'll just say

-"oh. okay. next time you can choose." and that's all (he will bring you wherever you want next time frfr)

-the preparation is gonna take a while

-he's gonna pack his things perfectly, necessary and unnecessary things telling you to pack your things on your own

-if you're not done by the time he's done, he'll help you because he's not so rude

-half of the things he packed up are books and when you questioned him about it he just said it was "necessary because he doesn't want his brain to forget to study"

-when you get there, half the time he's gonna be reading his books OR yapping to you about the books he reads

-just listen to him it's not that hard🙏

-of course he'll already have 5 different types of sunscreen because he needs them for himself depending on how he's feeling, but you're the only person he'll share them with

------------------------------------------------------

Lyney ♡

-you're most likely going on a vacation with his siblings and arlecchino father

-the preparation is gonna be PERFECT trust me

-he's gonna give you so many suggestions on what to wear

-at one point he'll be only packing up your things forgetting that he has his own

-"do you like this shirt more or this one? or do you want to bring both? let me know!" ahh bf (we love him)

-"lyney i don't need any more clothes-" and he'll cut you off by throwing some random shirt on you. neither of you know is it your shirt or his own, but you're gonna pack it with yourself now

-once you get there he's gonna try and find as much private time for the two of you as possible

-kissing your hand anywhere and everywhere, wherever and whenever is a MUST

-he will INSIST on putting your sunscreen on for you to "make it easier for you"

-we know damn well he just wants to feel your skin against his fingers and to kiss your back

------------------------------------------------------

Wanderer ⑅

-you were supposed to goon a vacation with nahida but he turned her down saying it would be too expensive(he wanted alone time with you)

-nahida knew that damn well but wtv she wanted you guys to have fun

-the packing up was a huge mess

-he commented one everything you packed, and you only commented on his things in return so it was like a back-and-forth argument

-"why do you need so many things? and sunscreen?? pfft- the sun isn't gonna kill you."

-"i'm gonna BURN and that's not something ENJOYABLE. but how would you know anyway- you're a porcelain puppet."

-"that doesn't mean shit- your skin is just weak."

-etc etc but at some point you're finally both done

-finally getting there, he'll stay stuff like "this is worse than i thought" and stuff but he's only saying it to bring out a reaction from you

-beg him to put sunscreen on you and although he'll resist and call you stupid for not doing it yourself. once he's putting it on you he's dying inside(in a good way)

------------------------------------------------------

feels good to write after a while

| @mariaace <3

[peasack]

I love your work!!! I was wondering if you'd write a teen!reader headcanon for them struggling with mental health, needing help with homework, coming out or getting bullied please? I especially love how you write Ava (she's my favourite character) and you manage to nail the Alexis voice

Absolutely adore this request.

I chose to write about the mental health, since I all of them (obviously) know how to deal with that. But I'll definitely put the other suggestions on my list!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Mental Health Support Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Ava Starr

The quiet protector. Ava’s not the type to talk circles around you or push you to open up. Instead, she watches. She notices the changes in your behaviorthe silence, the distance, the fake smiles and instead of asking a million questions, she simply shows up. She’ll quietly sit next to you, maybe reading or scrolling on her phone, just so you know she’s there without overwhelming you.

Understands isolation deeply. After everything with her phasing, Ava knows what it’s like to feel broken, like you're a burden, like no one could possibly understand. So when you isolate, she doesn’t take it personally. She just leaves a small trail for you to follow when you’re ready a text, a post-it note, a granola bar on your desk. Tiny signs that say you’re not forgotten.

Soft but firm boundaries. If you try to shut her out completely or brush her off with a fake “I’m fine,” Ava will tilt her head at you with this deadpan look and go, “Try again.” Not mean, not angry. Just “I see through you. You’re not fine. But I’ll wait for you to be ready.” She never lets you disappear completely.

Takes you on quiet, low-pressure ‘missions.’ She’ll invite you on drives, walks, or errands that sound boring but feel safe. “Come with me to pick up supplies. No talking necessary.” It’s her way of offering you company without forcing conversation. These small moments help you reconnect to the world without overwhelming you.

Gentle about scars and history. When she finds out about your past or your scars, she doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t lecture. She just softly says, “You’ve survived a lot. You don’t have to survive it alone anymore.” And that’s it. She holds it like a secret you entrusted her with.

Fiercely protective in her own silent way. If anyone triggers you, bullies you, or drags you down—Ava will quietly, ruthlessly remove that threat from your life. No one knows how, but that person suddenly just leaves you alone. Ava doesn’t need credit or thanks. She just protects you. Always.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Not the best with words, but man does he show up. Alexei might not always know what to say, but he makes sure you know you’re not alone. He’ll randomly sit with you, bring you snacks, or drag you into the living room to watch terrible old Soviet movies with him, just to keep you company.

Overcompensates with physical comfort. He’s big on hugs and ruffling your hair, and you get the sense he’s constantly making sure you’re still there, still safe. He’s the kind of guy who will pat your back so hard you almost fall over—but you feel a little better afterward.

Terrible at hiding his concern. He’ll blurt out things like, "You are not allowed to disappear, okay? I will find you. I will find whoever made you sad. I will crush them like beetle."

Secretly keeps an eye on your routines. He notices if you’re skipping meals, missing sleep, or isolating. He’s not subtle—he’ll straight up drag you out of bed and be like, “We are going for silly little walk. It is non-negotiable.”

Panics when you cry. He immediately calls for backup (usually Yelena) like he’s reporting a code red. But he stays. Always. Even when he’s unsure what to do, he refuses to leave your side.

✦ Yelena Belova

The calm-in-a-storm type. When you’re spiraling, Yelena doesn’t flinch. She sits next to you, quietly, like, "Okay. We are sad now. I will be sad with you." She doesn’t try to fix you. She just holds space.

Violently protective of your mental space. If someone at school or even in the team says something that hurts you, she’s on it like a hawk. “Tell me who. I just want to talk.” (She does not just want to talk.)

Talks about her own issues openly. She’ll casually drop lines like, "Yeah, I have bad days too. I usually throw knives to feel better." She tries to normalize it so you never feel broken.

Pulls you into little missions or tasks when you isolate. "Come help me spy on Alexei. It will be fun." It’s her way of reconnecting you with the world.

Terrible with cheesy comfort phrases. Instead, you get blunt affection. "You are not allowed to give up. You are my family. You do not get to leave me. I will be annoying forever, so you must stay to suffer me."

✦ Bucky Barnes

The king of quiet understanding. He never pushes. Never demands you explain. Just sits next to you, offers a cup of tea, and sometimes just says, "I’ve been there. You don’t have to talk, but I get it."

Not great with open emotional convos but will listen all night if you need. He doesn’t always know what advice to give, but he will nod along, let you ramble, and toss in dry little jokes to keep you grounded.

Gives you space but always checks in. Leaves little notes on your door like "I’m making food. You better eat." Or sends you a text: "Still breathing? Cool. Come hang when you’re ready."

Gets quietly, intensely protective if anyone makes you feel worse. He won’t make a scene but will 100% have a quiet, terrifying “chat” with the person responsible.

Teaches you small things to help. Like how to box when you’re angry, or how to breathe when you’re spiraling. He’s the type to hand you coping tools instead of empty comfort.

✦ Bob Reynolds

So, so soft about it. Bob is super emotionally tuned in and probably notices you’re struggling before you say anything. He gets this gentle, concerned tone like, "Hey, kid… you doing okay?"

Overthinks and worries a lot. He’s scared of saying the wrong thing or making you worse, but he wants to help. He’ll sit with you, make you tea, or put on your favorite show just to be near you.

Big on distraction days. He’ll offer to play games, watch movies, even sit and listen to music together, anything to help you breathe and not be stuck in your head.

Sassy comfort. Once you’re closer, he’ll throw in playful sass to make you smile when you’re down. "Look, you’re stuck with me now. Can’t get rid of me. I’m like emotional gum on your shoe."

If you cry in front of him, he crumbles. He holds you so carefully like you might break, and his voice drops to the softest whisper like, "Hey… hey, you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

✦ John Walker

Awkward but fiercely loyal. John’s not super in touch with his own emotions, but the moment he sees you’re struggling, he’s locked in. He just… doesn’t always know how to handle it. "You, uh, wanna… I dunno. Wanna hit something? Or get ice cream? Or whatever helps?"

Overprepares. Starts reading up on mental health resources, making checklists in his phone like "Things To Help The Kid When They're Sad" because he genuinely wants to be good at this.

Dad-mode activated. He’ll randomly show up with snacks, your favorite drink, or movie nights without making a big deal out of it. If you try to thank him, he waves it off like, "Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s what I’m here for."

Gets super angry at anyone who hurts you. Like, full-on clenched fists, ready-to-throw-down angry. But he channels it quietly—he just gets very, very protective from a distance.

Awkward comfort, but real. Might pat your back stiffly and mutter, "Look… I might not always get it. But I care about you, okay? You’re family. You’re my kid now. Deal with it."

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope this was alright, it's a little more detailed on Ava’s part since, of course, the request was for her.

If you guys have more requests please leave them in my inbox! <3

[templeofminerva]

I use the term binary trans woman pretty much exclusively in reference to myself and any friends who are in this situation; I only run away from they/them pronouns because it's necessary for me to only give people the option of she/her or else the pronouns that give me the most joy will go unused with cis people. Like it pronouns for me are honestly acceptable and that's not exactly binary either, because no cis person would default to it. I'm not even that gender-conforming I just didn't change my pronouns only for them to go unused. More broadly, I want to put on the appearance of binary womanhood because I want to be treated like a woman and have my identifying with women recognized, because if I don't, I will get excluded from these things since non-binaryness would be taken as an excuse to treat me like a man.

Is she a “binary trans woman” or is she a transfem who would go by she/they if it didn’t mean exclusively being referred to with they/them

[rosesnr0t]

can I request platonic yandere beast cookies x reader who has difficulty with hearing(if you don't want to do all of them you can do shadow milk or eternal sugar)

Yandere!Beast Cookies Headcanons (with a reader who has difficulty with hearing)

Shadow Milk Cookie:

• Shadow Milk initially teases you for your hearing difficulty. But over time, he becomes strangely fixated on the silence between you—finding it eerily intimate.

• He whispers secrets you can’t fully hear—on purpose. Then watches your expression intently, thrilled by the control of knowing something you don’t.

• Will magically create illusions to “translate” his messages—just for you—but they’re always abstract and confusing on purpose so that only he can explain them clearly.

• Anyone who tries to help you communicate better gets twisted into some “pest” in his eyes. He starts believing only he should speak for you.

• Despite his darkness, he genuinely tries to protect you from trouble. “The world lies through sound,” he murmurs, “Let me filter it for you.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Eternal Sugar Cookie:

• Eternal Sugar will use it to her advantage, finding ways to convince you to stay with her in the garden so she can help you. “Why strain to listen when you can just… rest?” She’d say. “No more effort, no more noise.”

•  Your every need is met in the garden, especially with your hearing, so she doesn’t understand why you’d want to go out and live life normally.

• Tries to coddle you into eternal sloth, treating your hearing difficulty as a sign you should “stay still and safe.”

• Uses gentle telepathic communication that feels like syrupy thoughts drifting into your mind—calming but subtly addicting.

• She’ll “get rid of” those who interrupt your “peace.” In her mind, anyone trying to stimulate or “wake you up” is hurting you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Mystic Flour Cookie:

• Mystic Flour speaks in soft, monotonous tones—almost as if she’s trying not to burden your ears. She respects your silence, but not your desire for agency.

• She projects the idea that your hearing loss makes you above the noise of the world. “You are spared from the chaos. That is beauty.”

• Constructs surreal, silent visions just for you—and they always speak in movement rather than sound.

• If you show signs of wanting more communication, she becomes cold: “Why speak at all? It changes nothing.”

• She neutralizes anyone who makes you feel overwhelmed or pushes you toward change. You’re safest with her.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Burning Spice Cookie:

• At first, he struggles not to shout constantly. But when he learns about your hearing difficulty, he becomes hyper-focused on being understood by you—and only you.

• He creates vivid fire glyphs in the air to communicate with you—like explosions of light spelling his words. It’s dramatic but heartfelt.

• Anyone who patronizes you or talks over you? He burns them to ash. “They think you’re weak? LET THEM SAY THAT AGAIN.”

• He treats you like his silent partner-in-chaos. You’re the only one who “can entertain him” without words.

• Sometimes he screams just to test your reaction, then gets weirdly emotional when you don’t flinch. “You’re not afraid…?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Silent Salt Cookie

• He never speaks unless absolutely necessary—and he adores that you don’t expect him to. To him, you are the embodiment of peaceful stillness.

• Uses precise gestures, eye contact, and salt sigils to “speak” to you. He believes your hearing difficulty is a gift—proof that silence is sacred.

• Becomes deeply offended if anyone tries to “fix” or accommodate your hearing. He sees it as an insult to your identity.

• Guards you fiercely in silence, threatening anyone who disturbs your peace. To him, the world must be quiet to honor you.

• If you express discomfort, he mistakes it as a spiritual fracture—offering quiet rituals and sensory deprivation to “cleanse” you.

[milverton]

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[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 2) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, specifically the volt and eddie romance, adjust as necessary

trust me, i would never forget such a striking face.

why is so hard for you to believe i actually like spending time with you?

care to dance?

it's far too easy to lose oneself with you.

don't think i'm done with you yet, [name].

i imagine it would be quite difficult to focus on anything with you around.

you have quite the reputation. i'm eager to explore it for myself.

it's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance.

i kinda feel underdressed.

trust me, you look stunning.

as long as you're going to be there, i'm up for anything.

careful there. i might just take you up on that.

are you always this oblivious?

are you always this much of an asshole?

cute. now get out, i've got work to do.

there's no time, all right? there's too much to do.

have i ever failed you before?

i'm serious, [name]. if it gets worse, you come get me.

how delightful. you're back.

you do learn quickly, don't you.

i'll have to find some more challenging lessons for you.

as much as i'm enjoying our conversation, there are a few more things i must attend to.

allow me to show you to your seat.

oh for fuck's sake, what do you want?

you actually care about this, don't you?

can i finish my drink in peace?

look, you'd better rest up if you want to be useful tomorrow.

you can't get rid of me that easily.

you'll probably change your mind once you realize what you signed up for.

i'm fine. you can put me down now.

that was unbelievably careless. what were you trying to do exactly?

just pay more attention.

i suddenly feel awkward and self-conscious.

you've done a decent job the last couple of days.

now you can get back to... whatever it is you do when you're not invading my space.

i already told you. big crowds aren't really my thing.

i do better on my own. trust me. i'll only slow you down.

be honest, you enjoyed yourself so much last time you just couldn't stay away. am i right?

i can't go back to being alone.

i can't lose you.

it's my job to protect you, even from yourself.

just do it before i change my mind.

i'd almost forgotten what this felt like.

isn't there something you wanted to talk about first?

[poetsiren]

While working at a clinic outside of the hospital, I once had to gauge a dark skinned man who came in not feeling well after spending significant time in his vehicle he was struggling with repairing. His family brought him, noting that something had changed and they convinced him to come. I soon realized I had to quickly determine if he had carbon monoxide poisoning without any labs or equipment. I had only the history of the patient to go off of and how he presented to me. With his permission, I brought the family in and asked if his lips looked more red to them. A resounding "Oh, wow. Yes!" came from several of the adult family members. Sometimes our short time with the patient is such a tiny snapshot and it can help to have others who can see the changes in our patients.

Yes, my man was sent via ambulance to the hospital on oxygen, and I got calls later on that I was right. They thanked me for taking the time and trusting him that something was genuinely wrong with his condition and because of me he didn't just go home and try to sleep and deteriorate further into disaster.

FYI, there is a good reference book that was created by a medical student who realized that physicians were being trained on Caucasian skin tones. He recognized that other clinicians would need to be able to reference these photos of changes in different skin tones.

It's called "Mind The Gap." It was a free reference in 2020 when first published. ( I don't know if it still is free.)

With these high heat temps, PLEASE stay hydrated and cover windows when necessary. Implement water sprays and fans on skin to cool them. And remember ice packs under the axillary areas to cool. In the absence of EMS: Monitor heart rate, urine output, and for signs of shock. Don't give a severely overheated person tons of water to guzzle or they will puke it all over you and dehydrate further!

I'm keeping an eye out for heat stroke in my area and I can't figure out what a full body flush would look like on dark skin since all the pictures are just fake training pictures. Anyone have video/pics of a heat stroke flush on black skin?

[jedi-luca]

Head Over Feet: Chapter Seven This Kiss

Summary: You didn’t know Dina before she came back to Jackson. She’s guarded, jaded, and carrying the weight of too many goodbyes. Now you can’t stop thinking about her. It’s a slow burn, and you’re patient… but will she ever let down her walls? Or will someone else reach your heart first?

Pairings: Dina x GN!Reader slowburn

warnings: spoilers if you haven’t played the game or seen the show. Slowburn 🔥❤️‍🔥

Previous Chapter

The sun had warmed the valley by late morning, burning off the last of the mist. Jackson came alive in these hours dogs barking, kids chasing each other between greenhouses, laundry lines swaying with wind-dried shirts.

You sat cross-legged in the grass outside the house, showing Charlie how to braid a daisy chain. Lili sat nearby, watching the two of you with a soft smile, while Mr. and Mrs. Cooper unpacked a modest lunch on the porch steps.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It keeps falling apart.”

You gently repositioned her hands. “You’re pulling too tight. Gotta be patient with it.”

Lili leaned over, offering a fresh daisy. “Try this one, bug. It’s got a long stem.”

Charlie looked up at her, grinning. “You’re good at this.”

“She’s always been good with messy things,” you said, glancing at Lili. “Art projects. Broken toys. Me.”

Lili met your eyes and held them for a second longer than necessary. “You weren’t broken.”

You gave her a little smile, quiet but warm.

Mrs. Cooper handed over a Tupperware full of peeled apples and peanut butter. “You still hate crusts, Y/N?”

Charlie gasped. “You hate crusts?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, mock-offended. “I just respect the rest of the sandwich more.”

Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Some things never change.”

Lili added, “They used to hand me their crusts at lunch like I was a human trash can.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “That’s gross.”

“Character-building,” you teased.

For a while, it was just simple: apples passed between fingers, sun on your face, Charlie showing off her daisy bracelet to anyone who would look.

Then Lili asked, softly, “Do you ever think about your parents here?”

You looked down at your lap, fingers stilling.

“I do,” you said. “They would’ve liked this place. My mom loved birds; she’d have planted something for every kind. And my dad would’ve fixed every busted window in Jackson, probably would have been head of patrol.”

Lili was quiet.

You didn’t mind.

You kept your voice soft. “They tried so hard to prepare us. Our cabin was full of backup plans. But they never expected me to have to carry everything alone.”

Charlie crawled into your lap with a piece of bread in her hand. You kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter.

“Your parents and brother would have been very proud of everything you’ve done here. They were good people.” Mr. Cooper says gently squeezing your shoulder.

You looked up. And Lili was watching you not with pity, but with that same grounded awe she’d had as a kid, like somehow you always made her believe in things again.

Mrs. Cooper smiled from the steps. “You’ve built something beautiful here and you’re raising a beautiful little girl.”

Charlie beamed. “I have two houses now!”

You laughed. “That’s right. And too many people sneaking you snacks.”

Charlie blinked up at Lili, then at her parents, a soft furrow between her brows.

“Did you know my mommy and daddy?” she asked.

Lili’s smile flickered, caught off guard. “Yeah, sweetheart. I knew them.”

She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Cooper for help.

“I remember your daddy when he was your age,” Mrs. Cooper said kindly. “He was always chasing your mommy around, always with dirt on his face.”

Charlie smiled a little. “My mommy?”

“Hmhm she lived next door to your daddy that’s how they fell in love.” Mrs. Cooper smiled lovingly

“She had the sweetest voice,” Lili added.

Charlie nodded solemnly, like she was trying to hold those details tight in her mind. “I think I remember her hair. It was soft like mine.”

You swallowed, something catching in your chest.

“And what about Y/N’s mommy and daddy?” she asked. “My grandma and grandpa?”

The Coopers exchanged a glance.

“They were good people.” Mr. Cooper said softly. “But I remember her mom made the Spaghetti I’ve ever had. And her dad?” He chuckled. “Your grandpa could scare off a mountain lion just by looking at it.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Swear it,” he said, hand on his heart.

Charlie looked back at you. “Do you think they all miss me?”

Your breath caught.

You cupped her cheek gently. “They never stop.”

Charlie leaned against you, quiet now, little fingers twisting the hem of your shirt.

Lili reached over and rested her hand lightly on your knee. You didn’t look at her right away, but you didn’t pull away either.

And in the warm quiet, surrounded by a patchwork family stitched back together by time and grief and love, you let yourself wonder…

Maybe this was how healing started.

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Lili wasn’t living with you, but she might as well have been leaving a sweater on your chair, coffee mugs in your sink, little things like spare hair ties and half-used tubes of lip balm on your bathroom counter.

She liked to read next to you while you worked on repairs. She’d sit cross-legged on the couch, flipping through whatever old paperback she’d found in the library, occasionally interrupting to read you a line she liked.

Sometimes you cooked. Sometimes she did.

Once, you caught her slow-dancing alone in your kitchen to a record she found buried in your cabinet. She pulled you in without hesitation. You hadn’t danced like that goofy and loose, laughing into someone’s neck. She couldn’t keep her hands off you and vice versa.

And when she said, “This feels like something real,” you didn’t answer. You just kissed her again, because you felt it too and didn’t trust the way your voice would shake if you tried to say it out loud. You were in so deep you never brought up Canada.

There were still questions you hadn’t asked.

How long would she stay?

Where would she go?

What would happen to this, to you? When her family moves on?

You hadn’t said it, and neither had she.

But it hung there.

Every time her mom talked about their route to Canada. Every time Lili curled closer to you at night looking at you like she wanted to freeze time.

Still, you didn’t press it.

Because it was good. It was better than good. It was the kind of thing you didn’t want to break with heavy conversations or stupid expectations.

You weren’t naïve. You knew this might end.

But it didn’t feel like a fling. Not even close.

You’d loved Lili once, in the way that a teenager does — shy glances, passing notes, that electricity when your hands accidentally touched.

But now?

Now you were starting to fall in love with her as the person she’d become. As the woman who saw your scars and didn’t flinch. Who listened when you couldn’t find words. Who kissed your shoulder when she thought you were still asleep.

It was scarier than you expected.

But also… it made you feel alive again.

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Lili’s fingers traced soft circles on your forearm as the two of you lay on the bed, half-covered in the glow of the window, half-wrapped in the hush of dusk.

You thought back to Cam picking up Charlie earlier.

“I’m betting on you losing it tonight. If I win I don’t have to do laundry for a month.” Can smirked, leaving with Charlie.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the inside of your wrist.

“I’ve been thinking..”

“About?”

“About you.” you whisper, turning on your side.

“Dangerous,” she teased, and you smiled faintly.

She leaned in, kissing you slowly, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe, in that moment, she did.

“I want you, Lili.” you said, voice barely audible.

Lili stilled, lifting her head to look you in the eye. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, breath catching. “I’ve never done this before, but I'm in love with you.”

She kissed you again, this time with something deeper, reverent, patient, grounding. “I think I’ve loved you since we were kids.” She whispers.

It was perfect to you. It wasn’t choreographed. There were nerves and laughter and quiet moments of hesitation. But none of it mattered. She guided you through it with nothing but love. Because with her, it felt right. Safe.

The sounds of her moans spurred you on and on. You wanted to hear every whimper, every sigh, groan and moan from here on out. Mapping every inch of her body.

After, you lay tangled in the sheets, chest to chest, her fingers combing gently through your hair. You didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Curled up in your arms like she understood the weight of what had passed between you. Like she wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight.

And for the first time, you felt like you’d stepped into something new. Something whole. Something real.

The morning after, you woke first.

For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, listening to the hush of the room. The soft, steady breathing beside you, the rustle of sheets when she shifted, the quiet creak of the house settling.

Lili was still asleep, tangled up in your blankets, half on her stomach with her face turned toward you, blonde hair fanned across your pillow.

You felt weightless and strong all at once.

There wasn’t a single part of you that regretted it.

You didn’t feel different, exactly not the way movies or books made it seem. But you felt anchored. Seen. And when you looked at her again, you felt calm in a way that hadn’t existed in you for years.

You brushed a piece of hair from her cheek. She stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Hi,” she smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?”

You shook your head.

She smiled wider. “Good.”

You leaned in and kissed her as she giggled, slow and warm. It felt easy now. Familiar.

Like this was always where you were supposed to be.

She made you breakfast and coffee barefoot in your shirt. You kissed her shoulder just because you could. She smiled without looking up.

You were in love with her.

And it didn’t feel confusing, or unfinished, or like something you were chasing after. It felt like something that had found you. It truly felt like a love story unfolding, and to the town it was.

It started with a kiss.

Not the nervous kind. Not the careful, aching first one by the fire.

But the one a few days later, in the middle of Jackson’s main road, when Lili pulled you toward her and kissed you in front of everyone quick, soft and sure, like she’d never known hesitation. Her fingers curled around yours like she meant to keep them.

And you let her.

You smiled into her mouth.

And the town noticed.

It spread faster than news ever should. Whispers behind tomato crates. Smirks passed between kitchen staff. A few knowing nods from people you barely talked to.

But none of it mattered. Not really.

Because Lili looked at you like she knew your soul. And every time you touched her, the noise faded.

You rode into town with her hands around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder. You split peaches on your porch, juice sticky on your fingers, her laugh easy and unbothered in your ear.

You’d never had something like this.

Never known what it felt like to be chosen out loud.

She reached for your hand during dinner. Called your name like it was a love song. Rested her forehead against yours at the stables and kissed you like there wasn’t a crowd nearby watching it all unfold.

And Charlie adored her.

She held Lili’s hand like she was made to fit there, all tiny fingers and soft trust. The three of you walking home from the mess hall felt like a picture you never thought would exist for you — warm, full, right.

Lili braided her hair on the porch. Read her stories at night. Kissed her on the forehead like she’d known her forever.

You didn’t want to think too hard about how fast it all came together.

You didn’t want to ruin it by asking how long something this beautiful could really last.

Still, you noticed Dina.

Not at first. Not in those first flushed days, when your world had narrowed to warm hands and sunlit bedsheets and the way Lili whispered your name when she thought you were asleep.

But then… little moments.

You caught her once in the market, standing behind a cart of squash, her eyes on the two of you like she’d forgotten what she came there for.

You passed her by and smiled. Just a small thing — polite. She didn’t smile back.

Another time, at the stables, she walked in mid-laugh, mid-kiss, mid-something private between you and Lili. And you felt it. That flicker. That pause.

She didn’t say anything. Just turned, and left.

It started to happen more.

You’d feel her eyes on you in the mess hall. Out on the field. After patrol. Nothing was said but you could feel her pulling back, pulling in, like she was quietly making herself smaller.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You had everything now. The love you’d waited for. The sweetness of being wanted back. It felt unfair to mourn someone who’d never really been yours.

But sometimes when Lili was asleep and the fire was low you’d remember the sound of Dina’s voice when she said she wasn’t ready.

And wonder. Could you have felt this way if it was her instead?

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Dina noticed a difference in you Not all at once, but in the way you carried yourself. The quiet peace in your face, the way your eyes didn’t search the crowd anymore.

She felt like she was an audience member watching a storybook romance come to life. The whole town talked about how cute and picture perfect you and Lili were together.

How could they not? You; this perfect dreamboat of a person and Lili a sweet blonde green doe eyed girl that made you lovesick.

Dina saw you walking through Jackson with Lili’s hand in yours. Saw you play with Charlie together, whispering and laughing about something no one else knew.

And it hit her one morning in the market when you passed her and smiled but nothing more.

You had truly moved on. You had given Lili something so sacred and not just your virginity but your heart.

And she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding onto the idea that you wouldn’t.

She thought back to the moment she found out it was the last time she spoke with you.

A few weeks back

It wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

Cam had swung by the stables to grab some supplies. Dina was there, brushing down her horse, sleeves rolled up, brow sweaty from patrol. The two hadn’t talked much lately, not since the last town hall where things got heated over security detail. Still, there was a loose familiarity between them. The kind that lingered even when you weren’t feeling especially friendly.

“Hot out,” Cam offered, grabbing the reins beside her.

Dina nodded. “Yeah.”

They worked in silence for a bit. Just enough for Cam to let her guard down.

“You hear about the infected run near the old tracks?” Cam asked.

Dina shook her head.

“Y/N and Lili handled it. Took down ten, cleared the entire tunnel. No backup.”

Dina paused, just briefly, before continuing her work. “Of course they did.”

Cam side-eyed her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Cam let out a soft whistle. “You’re never ‘fine’ when you say it like that.”

Dina’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason,” Cam said with a shrug. Then, too casually: “Just… damn. You’d never know that was their first week together. They work like a team. Maybe it’s all the… practice.”

Dina blinked. “What kind of practice?”

Cam froze. Shit.

“I mean-” she started to walk it back. “Nothing. Just-”

“You mean sex,” Dina said flatly.

Cam winced. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

Cam blew out a breath. “Look, I figured you knew. Y/N told me after it happened. It was… special. Not just sex. Like, real. The kind of first time people hope for.”

Silence.

Dina’s hands stopped moving. Her fingers curled tightly into the reins.

She nodded once. Too slow. Too controlled.

“I see.”

Cam backpedaled hard. “Hey Dina come on. I wasn’t trying to be cruel. You’re the one who told Y/N they deserved a better first time, remember?”

“I still said no,” Dina said, voice sharp now, low and bitter. “Even if I wanted to say yes.”

Cam hesitated. “Then maybe it’s good they’re with someone who wanted to say yes back.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Dina stepped back from the horse, stiff.

“I have to go,” she muttered, grabbing her pack.

“Dina…”

But she was already walking off. She didn’t turn back.

Later that evening you found Dina sitting on the edge of the greenhouse steps, half-shaded, legs stretched long across the stone path. The afternoon rain had passed, leaving the air thick and soft, the smell of wet leaves still clinging to everything.

She didn’t look up when you approached.

“Hey,” you offered gently.

“Hey.”

You sat beside her, keeping a bit of distance. The silence hummed between you. She was peeling a pear with a knife, slow and methodical. She handed you a slice without looking.

“Thanks.”

A bird chirped somewhere overhead. You watched it flit between the branches, trying to read her face from the corner of your eye.

“You okay?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Long patrol. Cam got on my nerves.”

You hesitated. “She say something?”

Dina paused. Her knife slowed for half a second.

“Nothing important.”

You nodded, but you felt the shift. Something had cracked between you, something small but sharp. You didn’t know what she’d heard—but you knew enough to suspect.

She finally glanced at you. Her eyes weren’t angry. Just… tired. Guarded.

“You seem happy,” she said softly.

You blinked. “I… yeah. I guess I am.”

She gave a hollow smile, then looked away again. “That’s good. You deserve that.”

You swallowed. “Dina…”

“Don’t,” she said, too fast. Then quieter, “Don’t say anything kind right now.” Her voice wavered on the edge of crying.

You sat back, hands curled on your thighs. “Okay.”

A moment passed. Then she whispered:

“Did you ever think about what it would’ve been like if she didn’t show up that day? After I poured my heart out?”

You looked at her. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. But her voice trembled like something had broken loose and she didn’t know how to catch it.

“I did,” you said honestly. “Of course I did.”

That made her inhale sharp through her nose.

“I told myself I was protecting you,” she murmured. “But maybe I was just scared.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She looked down at the slice of pear in her hand, untouched. Then she set it aside and stood.

“I should go. I told JJ we’d read before bed.”

You nodded.

“Dina-“

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond.

And this time, you didn’t stop her.

Next Chapter

[misticatarot]

What your subconscious is trying to tell you? 🔮

Pick an Image (1-2-3)

🌊 1. Six of Swords (Upright)

What your subconscious is trying to tell you: It’s time to let go, even if it hurts.

Your subconscious is guiding you through a necessary transition, one that might be painful but unavoidable. You’re still holding onto old emotions, situations, or patterns that weigh you down, and this card comes as an inner whisper: “It will be okay, but you must cross this river.”

This is the energy of someone who understands they can’t stay where they are any longer. You might be resisting, unsure where you’re heading, but your deeper mind knows that healing never happens in stagnation — movement is essential, even if uncertain.

Your subconscious says:

Stop carrying the pain of the past; it no longer serves you.

Change can feel lonely, but it’s actually freedom.

Go with the flow, even if you can’t see the shore yet.

This card can also point to a mental or spiritual transformation: limiting beliefs slowly dissolving, making way for clarity. Trust the process.

🍂 2. Six of Cups (Reversed)

What your subconscious is trying to tell you: It’s time to let go of romanticizing the past.

Your subconscious is urging you to see how much you’re still attached to an ideal, memory, or version of yourself from the past. The reversed Six of Cups reveals nostalgia that has become a burden — maybe you retreat into memories to avoid facing the present, or you idealize relationships and moments that weren’t really so perfect.

This card invites you to reconnect with your present and who you’ve become. You have grown. And some past dreams simply no longer fit who you are.

Your subconscious says:

Honestly look at what you’re trying to relive or recreate.

Your past shaped you, but it doesn’t have to define you.

Heal your inner child, but don’t let it lead your life.

There’s also a call to free yourself from childish patterns or repeated emotional cycles. Healing doesn’t come from going back — it comes from integrating and releasing.

💔 3. The Lovers (Reversed)

What your subconscious is trying to tell you: You’re neglecting an important choice — one that concerns you, not others.

When The Lovers appear reversed, your subconscious reveals an uncomfortable truth: you’re out of alignment with an essential part of yourself. You might feel torn between what you truly want and what you think you “should” want. Or maybe you’re stuck in relationships (romantic, family, work) that no longer reflect your truth.

There is a choice to be made — and your deep self knows it. But you might be avoiding it out of fear of disrupting external harmony.

Your subconscious says:

You’re not choosing from the heart, but from fear of disappointing.

It’s time to reclaim integrity: to live in alignment with who you are.

Love starts with you, not compromise.

This can also mean an internal break between mind and heart, desire and logic. It’s an invitation to reconnect with your deepest truth, even if it means cuts or radical changes. Authenticity is always the right choice, even when it’s hard.

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash Photo by Dima Solomin on Unsplash Photo by Jabari Timothy on Unsplash