#me: you are wrong and appear to not understand the post

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Totally Off the Goddamn Grid

Prompt #4 - I Know What You Did Last Summer | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Jeff | Pairing: Corroded Coffin & Eddie, Background Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, That's Just a Secret They've All Been Keeping

Chucking it from his hand, the book slams down onto the table with a loud thud, and Gareth jabs his index finger on it, pointedly:

"What the fuck is this?" Gareth asks. 

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

"It's a book," Goodie says, being snarky. Jeff laughs. It's definitely a book. "You read those, you know? Cover to cover, typically."

But Gareth's worked up, and is definitely not laughing.

"It's not just a book. It's a message," Gareth says, and they aren't laughing either when Gareth hands over the envelope it came in. 

The address is printed in familiar block print. Shit. Jeff scoots it towards Goodie, and once he's gotten a good look, they both start shaking their heads in unison.

"What's he doing? No, no, absolutely not," Goodie shouts, and Jeff picks up the manila envelope. As if he needs a closer look. He doesn't. He'd recognize that handwriting anywhere.

"What are we gonna do?" Gareth complains.

They had a perfectly executed plan. Telling no one. Cutting off all contact. It went so well, honestly. They've stuck to their end of the bargain, no matter how hard it's been.

And this is what they get for their trouble?

Great. Just great.

They take their time. They paint Eddie's old van to look like a plumbing repair business vehicle. 

They dress the part. Tools in hand. Blend in. Look like they belong.

They can't risk being followed.

Approaching the house in the neighborhood that looks even nicer than Jeff remembers, they pile out and ring the doorbell.

Steve answers, and seems very confused to see them. 

"Uh, we have a problem?" Steve asks. Jeff looks at Goodie. Fuck. If they didn't reach out, maybe they're the ones that fucked up here. It's definitely Eddie's handwriting, though. Jeff wouldn't get that wrong. None of them would.

From the other room, Eddie appears, "Who's at the do—?"

Jeff swallows. He looks good, really good. Healthy, and better than he looked when they left him here, for sure. Trusting that Steve Harrington had him. 

Apparently he did. 

"Oh, hey boys," Eddie says, grinning ear to ear, "Steve. Stop being rude. Let them in."

Steve holds the door wider, and they file in, wearing their ridiculous coveralls.

Gareth digs the envelope out of his pocket and throws it on the table. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. It pisses Jeff off. It's not funny. 

"Why? Why send me this if you're just fine?" Gareth demands. It's a fair question. Jeff doesn't understand why Eddie would put himself in harm's way like this. Not after everything they all went through to get him totally off the goddamn grid.

"I missed you guys," Eddie says, but they can't fall for that. They can't. It's not like they haven't missed him, they definitely have. But they all agreed to do what was for the best. What was safest. He doesn't get to change the rules on a whim like this is one of his D&D campaigns.

"Eddie!" Steve snaps, picking up the piece of paper. "This was stupid!"

And Jeff's afraid hell has frozen over, because he agrees with Steve Harrington. It was a risky move. A bad decision, The fact that Steve didn't know tells Jeff that Eddie damn well knew he was in the wrong, but still did it anyway. Which is pretty par for the course for Eddie. But still. They did this to keep him safe, and he's the one that poked his head out of his hiding spot for no good reason.

It was foolish.

It was very Eddie.

"It's fine, nobody's looking for me. Eddie Munson died last year, or haven't you heard?"

"Oh, we heard," Goodie snarks, and starts pulling his coveralls down off his shoulders. They are hot and constricting. Jeff follows his lead, letting the material pool around his waist as they sit at the table in their undershirts.

Jeff's sweating, and he's sure only part of it is due to the rising summer temps. 

"You shouldn't have sent that," Jeff says, "What if someone had been tracking you? Or the mail? Or watching us? What if Gareth had moved?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Nobody's looking for me. I'm dead. Presumably swallowed whole by that earthquake. That town has forgotten all about me by now."

Jeff knows that's not exactly true. Several people would still be thrilled to find Eddie alive, just to be the one to get to put his head on a pike. This was fucking stupid.

But he's missed him. He really has. It's good to see him looking happy and healthy. Steve kept his end of the bargain, taking good care of him.

"Pizza? We need pizza," Eddie declares, like this conversation is over. It's definitely not. No way.

"I could eat," Steve says, and Steve isn't mad, if Steve isn't pitching a fit, Jeff supposes he'll let it go, too. 

Steve gets up to go call in their order, and Jeff watches as Eddie places his head in his palm, elbow resting on the table.

"So, how's life?" Eddie asks.

It's like no time has passed, like nothing has changed. Eddie's still Eddie.

And they all start talking at once, trampling each other's words, as if they're in a race to tell Eddie everything they haven't been able to tell him in a year. 

For once in his life, Eddie sits quietly and listens. 

"Gareth slept with that snotty asshole Carol!" Goodie crows, and Jeff laughs as Steve leans back through the doorway, phone receiver pressed into his neck.

"Carol Perkins?" Steve asks, eyebrows raised.

Gareth lets his forehead fall to the table, as the rest of them laugh.

"Can't believe you survived, she's a demon trapped inside a teenage girl," Steve teases, then goes back to the pizza order.

"How in the hell did that happen?" Eddie asks.

Gareth just shakes his head, and the subject changes again. They'll circle back. Jeff will make sure of it, if Eddie doesn't.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Header is from one of the book covers for this novel by Lois Duncan that would have existed at the time.

Carol Perkins would eat Gareth alive, dragging him into whatever she's got going to piss off Tommy, lol.

[friendship-switchblades]

nothing like getting piled on for “being mean” and “policing” for just frankly and directly disagreeing with someone in an “activist” comment section

[lmaster37]

hmmmm "i will" by mitski as a loumand song.... armand both pre- and post-SF trying to convince himself he's doing the right thing, he's doing this for louis, he's doing this for them......

armand who considers himself fundamentally unlovable outside of his utility to a partner...... for whom love and servitude and ownership and debt are all mixed up in ways informed by centuries of abuse

who is applying what little he has received in the way of love (both real and perceived) to his current relationships, but who has never felt loved without being owned, who has never once even considered that Respecting Boundaries is an important part of loving somebody, who is used to his lover being his owner being his maker being his god, and who applies all that to his relationship with louis because it's the first time he is suddenly in the dominant position in a relationship and he is Not equipped to handle that in any way even approaching a healthy relationship

"i will see your body bare and still i will live here" considering that the highest form of devotion because surely only somebody who truly loves him could stomach to see him undone, to see him brought low, even if they were the one to undo him. is it not the most honest expression of his adoration for louis to see him brought low and rebuild him ?

"and all the quiet nights you bear, seal them up with care / no one needs to know they're there, for i will hold them for you" armand who is intimately familiar with the ways that memory can hurt you, who is desperately trying to pretend that forgetting is the same as moving on, who is taking on all the burden of this relationship and still louis is so ungrateful, how dare he accuse armand of doing this for his own benefit when it was all for louis, when armand has stayed awake a thousand days to soothe his nightmares, smooth over the edges of every hurtful recollection, when armand bears louis's traumas for him, how dare he—

"there's no need to be brave / while you sleep, i'll be scared / so by the time you wake, i'll be brave" armand who is building up an increasingly fragile house of cards, who is layering lies and adjustments and changes and more lies over each other, knowing that it's not sustainable, knowing that with every passing day it becomes harder to tell the truth, knowing that this will collapse eventually and the fallout is only growing. and then louis wakes up and everything is fine, darling, don't you even worry about it

(can you tell him that i'm so normal about him)

[ace-and-sleepdeprived]

tfw a side character gets so inexplicably in your head that you end up making an oc to pair em with to justify them being there

[front-facing-pokemon]

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[zoekrystall]

I started to bash on german the better I got in english especially regarding dubs (didn't help I was a stereotypical pretentious annoying lil kid) and I am so glad it was likely really just a kid phase bc I am rewatching detective conan in german (and once I hit where they're not getting dubbed anymore I switch to sub bc I do dislike names getting anglicized and I am very glad the ger dub kept the og japanese names, exceptions when I grew up w the anglicized names) and it is so so comfy. The dub is also just plain good imo and the voices are so nice to hear again I am so glad I found a site that got shows in german (ty katrielle layton anime for apparently only being available in japanese and german and me deciding "well I can speak german so why not check it out", nice voice acting but not up my alley).

I do still usually keep away from eng by anime bc I am a sub over dub person and I find most... not that good.. but I stopped to play part in the debate bc I'm sure all VAs try their best. Not for me but if you like em I'm happy for ya. And also in ger it is hit or miss when the og language is eng do I stick to that which is usually the case. Idk if it is just my perception or if it really did but german dubs kinda worsened but who knows maybe I just catched the ones w bad production on that part (reg ops we got nice ones but I was happy to learn others learned abt the one we got for naturo bc. yeah). Like purely anime speaking I think the cartoons and shows on tv are fine. Minus julien bam as sonic in the movies I still can't get over that but no hate towards him I just find the youtuber as voice actor thing always baffling no matter which language (also dislike the celebrity bias in every country. yes that person is famous but do they actually fit that role + voice acting and actor require different skill sets).

I think I started to bash so much on ger bc "og language always better" and sometimes yeah and I do watch if possible in the og w subs so nothing gets lost (that doesn't have to) but where that opinion makes a turn for the worse is if you start to become pretentious about it and everyone who chooses another option is somehow worse than you. Counts for every opinion that obv isn't debating human life. Honestly I adore polls but that's also why people need to zip it with their snarky comments in the answers or also on quizzes, I do have to admit those where op smacks (right answer) or smth on the one that almost no-one clicked on are funny to see though. A bit of banter is fine imo but there are some that are just really not necessary.

Anyways it is kinda funny how I thought one piece would surely get me into anime again bc I do adore it since like kindergarten and it'll forever be in my heart but nope detective conan it is. Ig the aspect of finding out together who the culprit might be is fun next to being able to do other things meanwhile bc I don't have to read. I think I got into conan at age 14? 15? Feels like decades ago though. I don't think I really understood why others rewatch things until now. Like I got it like yeah comfort but not the extend. I always tried not to rewatch bc "I got so much stuff I can't waste time with the same" (<- has replayed okami a lot on wii and now switch while having gaming backlog since forever, replayed bratz the movie on ps2 almost yearly as kid, etc) but I luckily start to go into "who cares" mode fully and it's really nice. I truly get it now.

[tojisteddy]

Sukuna who doesn’t like when you don’t follow his commands and listen to others.

After a long and annoying morning of telling his warriors what to do, killing off aristocrats and ordering servants around— the King of Curses expects to see you out in the garden playing with the stray kittens the King only keeps around for you or drawing in the paper hes given you, or better yet, napping. The sight of you enjoying yourself eases the annoyance, the stress of it all.

But when he doesn’t find you in the mere seconds it takes to scan the the yard with his four eyes, his voice booms across the open space, startling any servant near by. His voice is deep, dark, pronouncing every word slowly in an attempt to slow his irritation—

“Uraume, where. is. she?”

He could just sniff you out, he knows your smell so well now that it’s almost apart of him. Knows the smell of what lies inbetween your legs too, but he’d rather not use that. Not invade your space anymore than he usually does. He gracious like that.

His white haired servant is there in an instant, bowing his head, “[+] is at your room my lord.” They almost say it like a question, as if asking, ‘isn’t that where they’re supposed to be? A servant at their post?’

Well, no.

You do as your king orders you to do, and if that means you go and play instead of working until Sukuna calls for you, so fucking be it.

Sukuna finds you standing there in front of his chamber doors, arms behind your back, eyes low, waiting. like a good woman in waiting is supposed to do.

He calls to you like a sigh of relief, the God himself that never wavers, worried about his pet escaping him, something that would and never will happen, “Little human,”

Your eyes shoot up, your lashes flutter ever so beautifully, bowing your head, “Welcome back my lord.”

He doesn’t hesitate to tell you your wrong doings today, “You are meant to be in the yard before you feed me lunch, yes?”

You nod, “Yes my lord.”

“Then why is it you are here, watching the door when you know well I come to meet you there?”

You shift on your feet, eyes adverting his eyes while biting the inside of your lip. Adorable. You don’t want to get in trouble. His cute little thing. He lifts your chin with his finger, black nail at your throat. But you know it won’t hurt you.

Not his lovely pet.

Your big brown doe eyes stare up at him, he almost lets the matter go entirely— but you must understand your wrong to quickly fix it in the future.

“One of the servants told me I should be here, doing my job my lord. Not, -ehm- ‘wasting time.’ ” You mumble.

He raises a brow, he decides to test you, “So you listen to mere servants over your king?”

You’re sharp though, practically appalled that he’d suggested something like that, “I do not my lord! You are- you are-“

“I am, what?” 

“You are everything my lord.” You say it like it’s just. And he knows what you mean. He sees the way your gaze lingers longer and longer as the days pass, the way your heart beat sounds irregular when you’re near to him. How you long for his touch and approval, more than the ones who come to worship or pray to him. You see him as the moon, the stars and everything in between.

And oh, does Sukuna love it.

The pink haired god relishes in the feeling, his devilish grin appears on his face, he knows he has you. Always and forever and in the next life too.

“Then you will listen to your king and ‘waste time’ until I say otherwise, yes?” He scoffs. Whoever told you, you were wasting time was stupid. Humans need fun don’t they? His little one would get more than enough time.

You nod, replying those sweet words as you usually do when you listen ever so obediently. His loving pet.

“Good girl.” He caresses the apple of your cheek with his large hand, wishing to see the sunny glow on your brown skin. slipping it back in his arm back into his yukata.

“Come, let’s have lunch.”

And you quickly follow, always five feet behind. But Sukuna lifts you off your feet, holding you in one arm.

“M-my lord!” You gasp.

“You’ve worked long enough. Rest.”

most recent masterlist

[lvl1l1]

Yes hello I will sell my soul to you if you give us a “who did this to you” type reaction with the love and deep space boys WAIT walk with me their lover calls them trying not to cry asking them to come get them they show up BAM they see them with bruises barley holding it together the ask what happened BAM AGAIN tears just crying as they explain that someone they kind of knew made a pass at them and when they were shut down they hit them yeah they are a hunter but they were so stunned who’s losing it and about to commit a crime and who’s silently about to actually ruin their whole life for hitting their princess that the boys would love and die for

All seriousness I know I made light of the reaction but I fully understand the serious implications of it if you don’t feel comfortable or that this is maybe to heavy to post feel free to ignore it I couldn’t find any rules about what you wouldn’t write for I hope this request doesn’t make you uncomfortable or is triggering in any way and if it is I sincerely and deeply apologize

“Who did this to you?”

Or: LaDS men when someone hurts you

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader

WARNINGS: assault, harassment(please lmk if I missed smth)

content: hurt/comfort

a/n: someone tell me if the new format looks better

Xavier

The apartment was so quiet without you there.

Xavier was lying in bed, awake for a change.

He originally planned on taking a nap but as he noticed your side of the mattress being cold and untouched, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Sleep refused to come to him, while you were still out with your friends.

He couldn’t resist the unease in the back of his mind, gnawing at him.

He kept his phone close, just in case you needed him.

He finally felt his eyelids getting heavier, when the shrill buzz of his phone brought him back.

Your name lit up the screen and he instantly sat up.

His lips curled up into a small smile.

He picked up, anticipating your sweet voice.

But the moment he answered, all he was met with, were soft, broken sobs.

He felt the blood in his veins freeze.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice missing its usually composure.

His was already moving before his mind had even caught up.

His posture was rigid as he got off the bed.

“Xavier, can you come get me, please?”

Your voice cracked, barely being above a whisper.

Before you could even hear his reply, Xavier already teleported across the city, he couldn’t be bothered to grab a jacket or change his clothes.

The moment he appeared before you, his heart broke.

You were standing under a flickering streetlight, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if to hold yourself together.

Tears were running down your cheeks and there was a slight tremble throughout your body.

But what made his hands curl into fists, were the bruises on your face, ugly, purple marks marking your perfect skin.

He didn’t move at first.

He couldn’t.

The fury raging inside of him was dangerous, violent.

He felt, that if he moved a muscle, he’d lose the weak grip he had on his restraint.

His jaw was locked, eyes raking over your form, taking in all your injuries.

His voice came out quietly, deathly calm but laced with barely contained anger.

“Who did this to you?”

You sniffled, forcing out the words,

“I thought he was a friend. The others left, we were standing here together and then-“

You interrupted yourself by choking on your words,

“He was-“

You inhaled deeply, trying to pull yourself together,

“When I rejected him, he got angry. He hurt me.”

The world around Xavier blurred momentarily, he felt consumed by the rage running through him, his ears were ringing.

But louder than that, was the sound of you, crying.

That’s what pulled him back.

You first

You were always first

He approached you, slow, careful steps, with his arms open but he wasn’t forcing you.

He was waiting, waiting for you to come to him.

You stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest.

The way he held you was oh so tender, one hand caressing the back of your head, the other drawing soothing circles into your back.

He was shaking now, not out of anger but the overwhelming desire to protect, to heal, to be enough to make all your pain go away.

“I’m here.”

He whispered into your hair,

“You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you again. I swear to you.”

Your sobs only came out stronger and he simply held you tighter, encouraging you to let it all out.

Minutes passed like that. Hours, maybe. Time didn't matter.

Once your cries finally turned softer, becoming hiccuping breaths, he pulled back just enough to tilt your head up.

His usually bright eyes were burning with something darker, colder.

“His name. Tell me.”

His voice was low, dangerous

You hesitated but you knew Xavier.

You knew he wouldn’t let this go, not when it came to you.

You whispered the name and watched Xavier’s expression harden into something even more terrifying.

“Let’s get you home.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing away any left over tears.

“I’ll have to go for a bit after.”

There was a finality in his words, a promise.

You grabbed onto his sleeve weakly,

“Xavier, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

He looked down at you, pausing and his gaze softened again.

“For you,”

His voice a murmur,

“there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

In the blink of an eye, he brought you home, before turning.

The night swallowed him up, like a silent predator.

He was going to hunt down the man who dared to hurt the one who was most precious to him.

Zayne

Zayne stepped out of the hospital, watching as the last golden rays of the setting sun stretched across the city.

It had been another long day and he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Just as he reached his car, his phone buzzed up.

A smile immediately curled onto his lips, as your name flashed on his phone screen.

Maybe you had finished up shopping just in time for him to come pick you up.

He answered on the first ring,

“Hello, darling-“

But he stopped mid sentence, when he heard a soft sniffle.

His heart plummeted.

Your name softly left his lips,

“What happened?”

His voice was sharp with panic now, he felt his muscles tensing.

Fighting your sobs, you tried to explain, while tripping over your words.

You ran into this guy you barely even knew.

At first, it seemed harmless enough, just engaging in some casual small talk with him.

Your answers were short and clipped, trying to be polite.

Then, when you tried to leave, he wouldn’t let you.

He blocked your way, getting increasingly more aggressive when you made it clear you weren’t interested.

Zayne tighten his grip on his phone, something tightening in his chest as he heard how the situation had escalated.

How you had gotten hurt.

You sounded so small. So scared.

“I’m on my way.”

He said firmly, getting into his car.

“Stay on the phone with me, alright? Tell me where you are.”

You gave him the name of grocery store, telling him you were waiting in the parking lot.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, as he weaved through traffic, dreading every second he wasn’t by your side.

You kept talking.

Or rather, he kept you talking.

His voice was low and steady, even when you fell silent, he didn’t rush you, didn’t push.

Just making sure you knew he was there.

When he pulled into the parking lot, his breath caught in his throat.

You were sitting there, curled up on the curb.

Bruises visible on your skin, he noticed your wrist swelling from afar and the blood drying on the corner of your mouth.

But what really got him, was the hollow look in your eyes.

He wasted no time getting out of the car, he crossed the distance with long strides.

The moment you lifted your head and saw him, the tears started back up and you let out a broken sob.

You got to your feet, feeling almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Zayne. You’ve been working all day, I shouldn’t have dragged you here-“

He cut you off, his hands cupping your face gently, so carefully as to not hurt you further.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise for needing me.”

You could hear the emotion in his voice,

“I’m glad you called. You could never be a burden. Never.”

You finally let your body relax, falling into him and he caught you, arms wrapping around you, securely.

You two stayed still like that for a long moment, he was holding you safe against him and you clung to him.

He pulled back slightly, he brushed your hair out of your eyes, tenderly.

"Let’s get you taken care of."

He said softly.

He lead you to his car, opening the door for you and helping you in, a display of gentle care that made your eyes well back up.

The drive to the hospital was filled be a comfortable silence.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other rested on your knee in a silent reminder, showing you that he was by your side.

As soon as you arrived, Zayne parked hastily.

He held your hand as he helped you inside.

His face was grim and his whole body was tense but every time he looked at you, his gaze softened.

Once inside, he immediately called over Dr. Greyson.

After a few short, urgent words, Greyson took you under his care, leading you to a hospital room.

Zayne squeezed your hand before letting go.

"I'll be right here."

He said, voice low but certain.

As the door shut behind you, your boyfriend stood still before it.

He could feel his usually steady hands clenching at his sides.

His mind was racing, needing to make sure the man who did this to you would never come near you, or anyone else for that matter, again.

He sighed, thinking of how to best comfort you later.

Zayne would take care of everything.

You were safe now.

Rafayel

Rafayel stood off to the side of the gallery’s floor.

He thought tonight’s exhibition to be especially insufferably boring, the pretentious crowd leaving him annoyed.

He would’ve flat out refused Thomas if it hadn’t been for your soft kisses earlier that evening and your promise that you’d be fine hanging out with your friends.

That, however, didn’t stop him from mourning the time he knew he could’ve spend together with you instead.

All night, his mind kept drifting to you, your smile, your hand that had lingered on his cheek as you said goodbye.

He kept checking his phone, hoping for a message from you.

Nothing yet.

Some keen socialite kept trying to converse with him, throwing buzzwords around that he couldn’t care less for.

His phone finally vibrated against his palm.

Rafayel didn’t excuse himself, he simply turned and left, not sparing them another glance.

He lifted the phone to his ear, a grin pulling at his lips.

Then, he heard you.

You were crying.

His playful demeanour vanished in an instant.

He felt his heart constricting in his chest and his body snapped to attention.

“Where are you?”

His voice was low and commanding, not leaving any room for arguments, sounding like he was ready to tear through anything that stood in his way.

You managed to choke out your location through your sobs, somewhere a few blocks away from the location you had initially met your friends at.

You softly asked if he could pick you, not wanting to cause him any trouble.

“Trouble?”

He echoed darkly,

“I’m on my way already. Find a store and stay inside. Don’t leave until you see me.”

Rafayel hung up without another word, heading straight for the exit, ignoring the confused calls from the people around him and Thomas’s protests.

Non of that mattered. Nothing aside from you mattered.

The drive to you was a blur of red lights and the sound of cars honking, nothing that made him slow down.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel so tightly, the leather was creaking under his grip.

It was like the only thought on his mind was you.

You were standing by the door of a small convenience store, when he finally pulled up.

Your eyes were wide and red from crying.

Once you spotted his car, relief washed over your posture and Rafayel was out of the car and by your side in seconds.

He reached for you, one hand gently wrapping around your elbow and the other ghosting above your waist as he looked you up and down.

Bruises. Bloody fabric. The fear still lingering in your wide eyes.

Rafayel’s jaw clenched so hard the thought his teeth might end up cracking.

His body and mind were screaming for him to do something, to destroy someone but he forced himself to stay soft and gentle with you.

“What happened, cutie?”

He asked in a low tone,

He noticed the way you hesitated first but then you opened up.

You told him how your friends had all left one by one until you were alone with a man you barely knew.

You tried to leave before things got weird, but things ended up getting weird anyway.

He started making gross, inappropriate comments and when you tried to shake him off, he followed.

And lastly how when you turned him down for good, he decided to hurt you.

Rafayel didn’t interrupt you once as you were speaking.

He listened in silence, drinking in every word, every tremble of your voice and every tear that slid down your cheeks.

Once you finished, he pulled you into his arms, the way he touched you was so soft, so careful, almost reverent.

Like he was afraid any amount of pressure could hurt you.

As he held you close, he pressed his face into the top of your head, inhaling deeply.

“I got you.”

He murmured.

“I’m not letting go.”

He wasn’t pushing for the man’s name, not yet.

He wouldn’t ask for details he could find out later.

Right now, all you needed was him.

He carefully lead you to his car, helping you settle in.

You two spend the rest of the night relaxing.

Once you had gotten back home, he took all the time in the world to tend to you.

He gently cleaned the scrapes on your arms and knees.

He gave you one of his sweaters, having it frame you like a shield.

He made you drink water, brought you warm towels and curled around you on the couch.

Once exhaustion overtook you, you drifted off to sleep, leaning against him, your fingers curled loosely in his shirt.

And only when he was certain, that you were fast asleep, your breathing steady, did Rafayel slowly and carefully remove himself from under you.

He made sure to tuck you in properly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

And then his expression hardened into something sharp and dangerous as he picked up his phone again.

No one would hurt you and walk away.

He’d make sure of that.

By morning, that man would regret ever laying a hand on you.

Sylus

Sylus was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while the meeting was dragging on.

The men sitting across from him kept talking and talking about things he could easily fix in his sleep.

His mind was elsewhere, with you.

He couldn’t wait until this was done and he could get home, grab a bottle of something decent and have you curl up against him, just as you had planned.

Thinking about you, waiting for him, a sleepy smile grazing your lips, was the only thing keeping him from snapping at the idiots in the room.

Then his phone vibrated in his jacket’s pocket.

He knew it was you but that thought didn’t exactly excite him.

As he read your name on his phone, he straightened.

You never called him while you knew he was working, not unless something was wrong.

Sylus quickly lifted his hand, silencing the man who was mid sentence.

He stood up casually, answering the call with his usual teasing charm.

"What's up, kitten?"

The moment your broken sobs reached his ears, his expression shifted.

You were crying so hard you could barely breathe.

He didn’t care about anything else but you, didn’t care for the men hearing the desperation in his voice,

“Talk to me, love. Breathe. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It took you a few seconds, your voice shaking but you finally managed to gasp out,

“Can you please come pick me up?”

He stalked out of the room, offering no explanation.

“I’m coming.”

There was no need for Sylus to ask where you were, you had stayed late at the Hunter’s Association to finish some reports.

He was familiar with your routine.

He quickly send Mephisto to your location.

On his way, he broke more than enough traffic laws as he ripped from the N109 Zone to Linkon City.

Your broken sobs kept replaying in his head and it caused him to lose focus multiple times, you were the only thought running through his mind.

When he finally screeched into a street near the Association, his gaze locked onto you immediately.

You were sitting on the sidewalk, looking so small.

Mephisto was protectively perched near you.

Luke and Kieran look out from the car, feeling bad seeing you like this.

Sylus moved without thinking.

He dropped to his knees right in front of you, the expression he was wearing was heartbreakingly soft.

One of his hands landed on your leg.

You looked up at him with tired and red rimmed eyes, a weak smile tugging at your lips,

“Hi.”

You whispered hoarsely, voice weak.

His chest tightened as he looked at you.

The desire to tear the city apart burning inside of him.

He controlled himself,

“Ready to go home, kitten?”

You nodded, lips trembling.

Sylus helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you as if you were made of glass.

Once you were standing again, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand and started sobbing again.

Sylus was hurting with you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering calming things, trying anything to ease your pain.

You clung onto him as he lead you to the car.

Once you were both settled in, Luke took off, driving back to the N109 Zone, while Kieran was glaring daggers out of the window.

You two were sitting in the back together and he was cradling you against his side.

His fingers brushed through your hair.

When you gained the strength to open up, you did.

While your voice was hitching here and there, you told him about the man, some guy you only knew through mutual friends, who ended up cornering you once you left the association’s building.

You told about how he kept pestering you, making disgusting comments, refusing to leave you alone.

How, when you finally turned him down firmly, he got violent.

Sylus listened to every word, not interrupting you once.

He didn’t ask for the guy’s name.

He didn’t need to.

He already had everything he needed.

For now, you were all that mattered.

Arriving at the base, Sylus carried you inside like you weighed nothing.

He set you down on his bed, covering you with the soft blanket.

He cleaned your wounds with a patience he wasn’t known for.

His touch never hurt.

Every single one of his movements was an unspoken promise,

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

He stayed close all night.

Held you until you felt better.

Ran his fingers through your hair until morning came and you fell asleep, curled up in his arms.

And once he was sure, absolutely sure, you were truly asleep, did he slowly pull away.

He softly kissed you on the lips.

Then, he straightened.

Rolling his shoulders, his eyes turned dark.

He wasn't going to leave this to his men.

No, Sylus was going to personally make sure that bastard understood exactly what it meant to touch what belonged to him.

By morning, the world would be free of one more pest.

And Sylus would be back before you had even woken up.

Caleb

Night was just starting to roll around when Caleb finally returned home.

His uniform felt suffocating after such a long day.

He was halfway through unbuttoning his coat, when his phone buzzed.

Your name lit up his screen.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He figured you and your friends must've wrapped up earlier than expected, and you needed him to come pick you up.

He picked up immediately.

But the moment he heard your voice, that smile crumbled.

You were crying, not the usual soft sniffles from watching a sad movie or dropping your snack.

This was gut wrenching, helpless sobbing.

Caleb stilled, his body tensed, something deep inside of him breaking at the sound of your pain.

“Hey, hey,”

He quickly said, voice gentle.

“What wrongs, pips? I’m here.”

You were stumbling over your words, hiccuping,

“Do you think you could pick me up now?”

You sounded so small, so weak.

“Of course.”

He answered without hesitation,

“Stay where you are and keep your location on.”

Not that he needed it.

He already knew where you were.

Near the old library.

He always kept tabs, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he needed to make sure you were safe in a world that wasn’t always.

Caleb wasted not time, not even bothering to change out of his uniform.

The streets were relatively empty but even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Caleb wanted to get to you as quickly as he possibly could, that meant ignoring speed limits and red lights.

When he spotted you, his heart broke.

You were sitting on a pair of steps, rubbing your eyes sore.

You looked up when you heard the screech of his tires and the slam of his car door.

Caleb was running towards you.

He stopped a few steps away.

His purple eyes roamed over you quickly, taking in the bruises that were forming and how disheveled you looked, the way you were shrinking in on yourself.

His eyes darkened, hands balled into fists at his sides and his muscles were flexing under his uniform.

“Who did this?”

Voice rough, barely a restrained growl.

His whole body was screaming for violence, to hurt someone back, inflict what they had done to you.

You shook your head, tears spilling again.

Caleb instantly softened.

The fury on his face was replaced by a loving look.

"Come here."

He murmured, stepping forward.

His arms pulled you into an embrace, so carefully that it made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

And to him, you were.

You leaned into him, your sobs were muffled and he was whispering sweet nothings against the crown of your head.

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice trembling.

You started explaining,

how your two friends had to leave early and how the guy one of them had brought along, had stayed behind.

At first, it wasn’t too weird.

A few uncomfortable jokes, some flirting you politely brushed off.

But it didn’t stop, even when you mentioned Caleb, your boyfriend.

He just became more aggressive, more persistent.

Until you tried to leave, that’s when he became physical.

Caleb didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

You knew what he felt through his arms tightening around you.

Showing his anger, how he was hurt for you, telling that no one would touch what’s his.

The kiss he pressed to your forehead was grounding.

He lead you into the car, buckling you in himself.

Once you two were back in his apartment, he ran you a warm bath.

He was staying close, helping you clean up if you as much as asked.

He fetched you some soft towels, your favourite hoodie of his, anything that he knew would comfort you.

He was sitting right outside of the bathroom door while you soaked, close for you to call his name so he could be there in an instant.

Later, as you were curled up in his bed, wearing his hoodie, lying under a mountain of blankets, Caleb sat beside you.

He was reassuring you, squeezing your hand that was holding onto his.

He kissed your knuckles, he lingered, murmured promises against your skin.

He whispered,

“I won't let anyone touch you ever again."

You eventually drifted off to sleep, coaxing you to.

And once he was sure, Caleb stood from the bed quietly, moving like a ghost.

He headed straight for his office.

He overlooked his screens, fingers flying over the controls, looking into camera footage, facial recognition, movement trackers.

It didn’t take long to find that bastard.

Caleb’s eyes were cold as he tapped a finger against his cheek, calculating.

Joining the fleet and ever had taught him how to fight in ways that left no witnesses, no survivors, no traces.

The man who hurt you would find his life dismantled piece by piece.

His reputation, his finances, his freedom, all gone in the blink of an eye.

No one could protect him from Caleb’s wrath now.

And when Caleb finally returned to bed, slipping under the covers and pulling you close to him, he softened once again.

He held you, trying to make you feel his silent promise.

The promise that no one would ever hurt you again.

Not while Caleb was still breathing.

[sakurakuna]

NERD GOJO WHO'S YOUR TA!

synopsis. TA nerd gojo who has a crush on you and gets assigned as your tutor.

content. 18+ explicit content. foul language. public sex. dom/sub undertones. inappropriate relationship. unprotected sex. virginity loss. feminine description used.

note. umm first time posting... enjoy!!

nerdjo, who works as the TA in your chemistry class, and due to your lackluster performance so far in the semester, he gets assigned as your tutor. He's a total nerd whose interests fall outside the typical college student's. Despite that, you still find him to be so cute. He's a little shy and on the quieter side, and his confidence mostly comes through when he's teaching."

nerdjo, who always comes to class early and helps set up labs before the students flock in, is dressed in a sharp white lab coat that pairs well with his shaggy white hair. He always wears his framed glasses, which he constantly has to push up because his head is shoved in some book that you wouldn't even know where to begin to understand.

nerdjo, who didn't even realize that you were no longer listening to his explanation on today's lecture and instead was fantasizing about fucking him in the middle of the dimly lit library that you were studying in. Chemistry was long gone from your mind, and all you could think about was how you desperately craved to see how he’d look as he struggled not cum inside of you.

nerdjo, who only realizes your mind is elsewhere when he glances into your eyes and can tell you didn’t retain a single word he said for the past 20 minutes...at least. He instead notices you're looking at him in a way he can't recall any girl has looked at him before, you were practically staring into his soul with your lust-filled eyes.

nerdjo, who knows it's wrong because he’s your TA but can't help but shamelessly take a glance down at your very low-cut top that pushes the soft skin of your chest together and makes it appear as if you're spilling out of it. He nearly wants to drool at how soft they look under the confines of the fabric and how they would probably fill his hands as he takes your nipples into his—

You caught his wandering eyes shamelessly traveling down your body before quickly lowering his gaze to the book in front of him. You could see his blood rush to his cheeks and create a rosy blush that exposed his embarrassment. His shyness only turned you on even more. Just thinking of being able to ruin your nerdy TA’s innocence made the space between your thighs grow even more wet.

nerdjo, who was now feeling the consequences of his perverted actions and could feel himself growing hard under the table. To try and distract himself, he started rambling on about the lecture again, this time stumbling on his words a concerning amount of times over topics you know he would be able to teach in sleep.

nerdjo, who knew the feelings flooding his body were so wrong. He shouldn't be getting so aroused around one of his students, He shouldn't be noticing how pretty she is, and he really shouldn't be wondering if the color of the bra strap peeking out the side of her top matches her panties! But as much as he tried he just couldn't force the thoughts out of his mind. The once-cold library felt so much warmer, and the space between your chairs didn't feel like enough.

“are you feeling okay? You seem kind of hot,” you asked, playing concerned. You took the opportunity to put your hand on his thigh, causing his leg to almost twitch immediately.

“oh-no m-me? I’m fine!" he stumbles on his words, and your hand continues to brush back and forward his pants, each time subtly getting a little too close to where you shouldn't.

nerdjo, who nearly jumps at the feeling of your getting close to his inner thigh and tries his best to play it off as if you’re not almost massaging his soon-to-be raging bulge in the middle of this empty library right now.

He nervously pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he feels your hand get closer and closer to a place no girl had touched before. He was at a loss for words, barely able to bring himself to protest your actions as his brain was slowly turning to mush the more he felt your touch.

“but you don’t look fine,” you say, feigning worry. You take his cheek in your palm and turn his flustered-horny face to make eye contact with your lust-filled ones.

“I think I know just how to help you though,” you say as you finally move your other hand right on his crotch and begin to massage his painfully hard dick through his pants. He audibly gasps in surprise at your forwardness and can't stop the immediate sigh of pleasure that escapes his lips.

"f-fuck this is so wrong- i-i'm your TA we can't-." He tries to remind you while clearly fighting to hold back his moan and making no actual move to stop your hand.

"But it feels good, doesn't it? you like the way I touch you? You ask while dipping your hand below the waistband of his pants, making the only barrier between you his boxers as you apply even more pressure to his aching cock. You could feel the pre-cum surrounding his tip, already wetting your hand through the fabric. Your voice was so sweet to his ears, paired with the feeling of your hand; it was all too much for him, and he could no longer continue his pathetic fight against you. All he could do was shamelessly nod through his moans.

"You've been such a good boy helping me... It's time you let me help you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The once quiet library was now filled with the obscene sounds of gojo's plunging his cock in and out of your poor sopping-wet pussy without holding back in the slightest.

You were the least bit prepared for your nerdy TA's to have so much length and thickness hidden beneath his pants. He was giving you the biggest stretch of your life as he fucked you on the library table with no mercy. It's like his hips had a mind of their own as soon as he sunk into the warmness of your core. And it didn't help that your tight walls were sucking him back in with every stroke, accompanied by squelching sounds of your pussy, driving him even more crazy.

""f-fuckk omggg, this feels so good," he whined as he tilted his head back with his eyes practically glued shut. He couldn't bear to look at you as he felt like he would explode any minute if he made eye contact with you while you were in such an unholy position.

"cmon baby, look at me, look at all the mess you made," you beg him as a loud moan escapes your lips. His dick was hitting places you didn't even know could be reached, and even though there was a slight pain that came with his thickness you found it to be pleasurable.

It made you crave to feel every inch of him inside you, so you lifted your leg onto the table, making his hips press closer into you and giving him a new angle that had him nearly about to shed a tear. He slows down his pace, barely being able to handle the feeling of his fat tip kissing your cervix over and over again. (you couldn't really blame him, it was his first time getting his dick wet.)

"I'm so sorry baby omg m'sorry- if I look I won't last!" he whined apologetically. This position had him stars and the only way to stop himself from filling you up was to try to slow down. He gave you slow but deep strokes that had you feeling every vein of his cock throbbing inside you. He was trying his best not to come quick so he could enjoy the feeling of your pussy longer, he was already so attached. He reached in front of you and took a handful of your chest, squeezing the soft skin of your breast before gently toying with your nipples.

As good as it felt you weren't having any of it. "mm-but don't you want to come inside me?" your question forces his eyes wide open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, a girl as pretty as you were going to let him cum inside??

"ahh- god, I must dreaming right now." he babbled as his brows scrunched together. 'Such a nerd,' you thought to yourself. Gojo was trying his best not to focus too hard on the feeling of you sucking him in so he could avoid embarrassing himself by cumming on the spot. His movements became more sloppy, which let you know he couldn't hold on for much longer.

"Its not a dream baby- please I need you to fill me up!" you moan out feeling his dick contnously brush against your spot. "I need it all inside me please." you begged while looking into his glossy eyes.

That was his last straw. Without even thinking if you could physically handle it, he quickened his pace, and you nearly choked in surprise at how fast he was fucking you. The library was filled with your sultry sounds harmonizing together. His feverish eyes gazed into yours with desperation. you knew he was close and so were you.

"oh my godd m'cummingg" you cried out to him. your cunt pulsated around his cock, liquid streams gushing out, splashing onto his lower abs and thighs. Your body trembles as your orgasm continues, and he continues to fuck you through it and chase his own. The sight of your orgasm only pushes Gojo completely over the edge.

"baby I'm gonna cumm- baby please, please." he didn't even know what he was begging for at this point. His mind was so far gone that all he could think about was coming inside of you. "It's okay baby let go-"

You could feel his strokes get more and more sloppy and his thighs tremble, his pretty blue eyes rolled back as he finally emptied his aching cum-filled balls into your pussy. You couldn't help but moan as you felt the warmth fill you up. There was so much cum spilling out that it overflowed from within you and traveled down between your legs.

Your bodies succumb to the exhaustion and collapse together on the table. "This must be what heaven feels like," he says breathlessly with only feelings of euphoria running through his brain.

'such a nerd' you smile to yourself.

nerdjo has my heart

[sos717]

Yes, Im Back

Here it is you guys, this is going to be the clearest and most simple explanation I’ve done so far of manifestation and your identity as conciousness and what that means for experience & the world unfolding. Don’t worry if you’re new to this, this will help!

THIS IS A MASSIVE POST, TAKE YOUR TIME AND GRAB SOME WATER, YOUR ABOUT TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE 😉🤭🤭

————————————————————

So around 7 years ago I started stepping into the world of what people typically call manifestation. I went down the rabbit hole of Subliminals, Law of Attraction, Law of assumption, NonDuality and finally to where I am now, the unlabeled.

I want to preface by saying, I have been through an unimaginable amount of turmoil, and growth while on my journey to understanding reality and the way the world appears.

I’ve spent all of my time from back to when I first found out about this side of reality, to today while I’m writing this post, constantly looking at a multiplicity of teachings and teachers to figure it out, except until the very end. I really want you to know this because it’s very important to not brush this off as if it’s not possible for you, as if you have to adapt a technique or secret. This isn’t something that’s to be exhausting. With that being said, let’s move forward.

We all want things, we all have ideas of a life we hope to live, we want to fill it with all the experiences and specific details that match our taste. But this is actually, where the problem begins.

The way manifestation is taught is inherently wrong, I’ve fully stopped watching and consuming content that has anything to do with manifesting all together, because no matter what it is, Law of assumption, Law of attraction, all of the other ideologies that promise your desires, they all have a fundamental flaw, identity.

They usually all entail a similarity: methods, techniques, specific things you can do and ways you can act to make an outcome happen. All the while throwing in a random “because you’re the god of your reality”. And instead of focusing on the phrases that relate to the center of all of it, YOU, it’s simply just brushed past.

And not just the typical “your source”, “your operant power”, “you are the manifestation,

We get it but wtf does that actually mean, and why should you care??? Well, let’s get into this, because once you start from point A, everything else makes sense.

What all these teachings of the world get wrong is the idea that you can want things and desire, as source. Fundamentally this is a paradox, you can’t exist in desire and want if you are the source of reality. It’s not to say you aren’t, but it’s to say, you don’t ACTUALLY want and desire, but the illusion of being separate from the world is what makes you want and desire.

Let’s break the illusion.

Ask yourself this for me. “Am I aware”.

The answer will always be yes. Undeniably. And no matter how many times you repeat this, the answer is always yes, no matter a feeling, no matter a pleasant or unpleasant experience in the world, no matter any circumstance, you will always say yes.

Why is this so important to explore?

Because you are able to see from direct experience what source is.

When you asked yourself that question, did you notice something weird that happened? It’s almost like everything paused for a split second and your attention went somewhere to find the answer, and a response came from there. Look closer, ask yourself the question again, and this time try to find where the answer is coming from.

You’ll find that it comes out of nowhere, and if you try to trace it as far back as you can, to even before you answer yes, there this empty space of knowing that the answer conjures in.

This is consciousness. This is you.

Whether you name it consciousness/awarness or knowing, it doesn’t matter, it’s all interchangeable. But the important thing to note is, this thing doesn’t ever go anywhere. That is your true identity, the starting point of all ideas, the starting point to anything that can possibly be known. Every decision is from here, every expression comes from here, everything leads back to knowing. When there is emotion, it is known, when there is idea, it is known.

You being able to know that you are aware comes from this. This is the unseeable, the thing that can’t be perceived in any way, this is origin, its source, and its you. Take a shot at it, try to see what knowing looks like, its weight, its shape, its color, its dimensions, what its favorite color is, what it doesn’t like or does like. You’ll be left with nothing, as in no descriptions, but definitely knowing that there is a presence there that never goes away. Now try finding its name, its age, its skin color, its voice. You cant, and yet, from this very nothingness comes your undeniable answer that you exist and you are aware of your existence.

You don’t need and feelings to know, you dont need sight, sound, and sense of perception, you don’t even need to acknowledge the body in any way, but you know you “are”.

At some point when there were no worlds and universes, there was an unseeable, dimensionless plane from what everything came from, does this sound familiar? Before there were things, there was no-thing, a presence yes, but no objects. And from this, reality was expressed, but source can’t go away, the fundamental key to everything there is today, has to remain, or else everything else would not exist.

Concouisness is what you are. And it IS the origin.

Now how tf do you live you dream life???

By understanding that the world is also just an expression of source, conciousness/you.

I need you to understand something that I thing we can all agree on, if everything has one source, it would only make sense for everything to be the extension of that thing that gives it life. The world is no different, and trust me I know this without a reasonable doubt. I’ve spent closer to a decade trying to figure this out. Everything exists in/on the field of consciousness/you.

I need you to trust me, because no matter how far you have been in your journey and how tiring it might have been like it was for me, I promise you, this is worth it all.

Step away from the ideas of wanting and needing, put on your neutrality glasses and perceive the world as 2 simple things, conciousness and conscious expression. These are the only 2 things that drive experience itself.

Understanding that you are source, more things become clear. Where do all the stories of all the unfavorable problems in your life activate from? Where does the idea of good events activate from? Where is it that any form of knowing come from, you. Whether it’s about struggling with money, or about someone loving you, the story or ideas, conjure from you.

We already know that we are conciousness, but now let’s acknowledge the second mosy important part, reality begins at us, draw yourself into something that you don’t really like, something you’d like to change, now notice where it activates from.

From knowing. Knowing the idea or story is its creation

Now when we see it casually, as just another thougt about something the world is showing us we brush it off and move on with our day, until we have to face that thing, but, what if this was actually in reverse?

Because if everything is an expression of source, doesn’t that mean the world is too? It would have to be. Doesn’t that mean, anything registered by the senses has to abide by its source? And doesn’t that mean, that the world is not truly something of its own will?

The short answer is yes absolutely. And I can tell you, this is it. THIS WILL BE VERY F$&#*NG IMPORTANT.

Admitting to the idea that there is one source for everything is literally acknowledging that everything can only show up IN ACCORDANCE AND RESPECT TO WHATEVER ITS SOURCE IS.

THIS MEANS, the the world is a PROJECTION of source, IT DOES NOT STAND ALONE. It does not OPERATE ON ITS OWN.

The world is the projection of consciousness.

Following me??

Like a hologram, like a school projector QUITE LITERALLY a projection.

From us, an infinite array of stories and ideas come, and they only become activate or exist if we allow them to, if we give permission to this thing to exist.

That story that you’ve had about SP (Specific Person) or Money or Success, has always been activated by you. TELL ME WHERE ELSE IT STARTS. You can literally even prove this to yourself right now. WHERE DOES THE STORY BEGIN.

And because the world is just an expression/extension of its source (YOU) it is ONLY GOING TO BE WHAT SOURCE IS. Because it is source, just with senses and perception. It is coming face to face with what you are aware of.

The way the world shows and all of its details are projections of whatever you decide to activate. How do you activate something? BY KNOWING IT.

How do you know “red apple” ? By knowing it. That is the origin for this idea. And you can run this test for every single story you play on loop, find its source, it will always be you.

Now, for the important steps moving forward. Stop treating this like an on and off switch, truly stop caring about a feeling, stop letting yourself get so swayed out of understanding your identity as the source, do NOT give up this beautiful opprotunity just because it seems or feels different.

You’ve been taught for so long that the world has to be struggle, so that’s all you know, you’ve been told that things don’t always come easy, this is all you know, take the time, take the days and weeks you need to break out of this useless cycle of exhaustion and understand who you are as source

Do not double down on doubts, double down on the truth, regardless of how you feel, take your time to feel, take your time to be, but never allow yourself to slip back into the brainwashing of the world.

Moving forward you need to understand the world objectively, not with the ideas of wants and desire, but for what it is. Source can’t want, you turn it into desire by creating a sense of divide for yourself. You pretend the world is something to change, drop this. You pretend that the body is all you are, drop it, you pretend that there has to be more to this but knowing, DROPKICK this into the damn ground.

This all is very simple. Everything being the expression of source is only projecting what source (You) are. The world is a direct projection of conscious activity. Whatever is know is given permission to exist, it’s given life. It’s created. THIS. IS. IT.

Whether it be blue butterflies, getting a free coffee, or changing your eye color, it all is just knowing. And this isn’t something that turns off. This is reality, this is you. Start noticing the random things the world shows up as when you were just thinking about it the other day or a few hours ago. It is not a coincidence I assure you.

That friend you were thinking about calling you? Yeah.

That song you were thinking about suddenly popping up? Yeah

That “problem” you were thinking about suddenly reappearing? Yeah

It is all the same, yes it will take getting used to, but please understand me when I say this, it took me a painful amount of time and effort to finally see this as the truth, the amount of months I’ve spent isolating from content and other teachings allowed me to take ONLY personal experience, I tested it day in day out and this IS it.

Currently I expand my comfort on how seamless existing is, and I can assure you, if I can come to this conclusion, you 100% can because it has NOT been easy for me, and it almost didn’t want to accept it. But the moment I did, and kept seeing it to be true time and time again, I knew I had to go fully in.

You create the idea of wanting by doing this.

“I really want Sp to text me”

This is what you’ve given permission to exist, this is now activated, it now is conscious activity, and because the world is source projected with senses the world IS this.

You treat it like an absolute, but when it comes to something like this:

“Sp loves texting me”

You treat it as effort, and something to do and wait on. Now tell me, does that make sense? Does the idea of waiting, wanting, desiring, changing, even make sense with the knowledge you have up to this point? Nope.

You need to understand. The world is not a story, it’s projection, and it can only be projecting you. Stop turning to the world as if it can make statements, as if it’s feeding you ideas, when you’re the one activating them. You NEVER actually change the world, it’s you that activates a new idea. THATS IT. It exists because you know it. A feeling cannot stop you from knowing, the world cannot stop you from knowing, ONLY YOU can stop yourself from activating a story. A story can’t exist if it isn’t known.

So, don’t you think it’s about time you see past the illusion of wanting and see for yourself what you are?

Don’t you think it’s time, to wake up.

[chrome-barkz-aac]

i made this instagram post !!! there isn't as big of a community of AAC users on instagram so I thought I would share this on my instagram (@cytochromesea).

EDIT: i got an ask that states that not everyone knows what AAC is which is an oversight on my part, it stands for alternative and augmentative communication!

Image ID:

A light blue background with a rainbow and a cloud and some stars. There is a blue border collie with wings holding an aac tablet that says I love you! Text reads: AAC etiquette. Do’s, Don’ts, and other stuff. By cytochrome sea.

The same background appears in every following slide. Text reads:

AAC is my voice! It is not a toy or accessory

Don’t touch my AAC without my permission

Don’t take my AAC away from me, for any reason (joke, punishment, etc)

Don’t press buttons randomly or flip through my communication cards without permission

How would you like it if I randomly poked you on the mouth and throat (or on your hands if you sign)? It would be unpleasant, so don’t do that to me

Some AAC users can speak sometimes. It is not your business why someone can or cannot talk

Don’t ask questions about why an AAC user cannot speak. 

Do let us communicate however is best for us in that moment

Don’t ask us if or when we will be able to speak verbally. It’s not your business 

Do not value verbal speech more highly than AAC. Any communication is good communication

Some of us never talk, either, and that’s ok! Those of us who can talk sometimes are not better than those of us who can’t. None of us owe you an explanation for our use of AAC.

Don’t look at my screen until I show you. It feels really invasive!

It feels like when someone is looking at your phone screen over your shoulder, so please don’t do this

This applies to low tech AAC as well, don’t look at someone’s cards or letter board until they show you

You have the dignity of forming your thoughts in your head before you say them, whereas my thoughts are all on display. Please afford me the same dignity that you get automatically.

Don’t shame someone for not being able to speak verbally. It makes us feel horrible

We are real people with thoughts and feelings. Please treat us with kindness. 

We are trying our best

Don’t shame someone if their device mispronounces a word. It’s quite literally out of our control.

Other Don’ts. Don’t

Don't Treat an AAC user as childish or stupid for not being able to speak. Our ability to speak does not define our worth

Don't Show frustration at the way someone communicates

Don't Make comments about how fast or slow we communicate

Also don’t…

don't Act surprised when we swear or talk about adult topics like sex, drugs, or violence. We are not pure uwu precious smol beans, we are normal fucking people

don't Assume what is “wrong” with us. There are about a hundred reasons for someone to use AAC and you probably aren’t the expert in any of them.

“OK, so what CAN i do?” im glad you asked! When interacting with an AAC user, DO…

Ask us how we prefer to communicate and support us as you are able

Assume that we are competent

Talk to us with the same respect, tone and vocabulary that you would for any one else

Give us money (this one is a joke)

Understand that AAC grammar isn’t perfect and we are doing our best

Is it rude if…

I can’t understand your device? Not rude! Misunderstandings happen all the time in any conversation, just be patient as you would normally. 

I want to complement your AAC? Not rude!

I ask to see your AAC and understand how it works? This isn’t rude if you are already talking about AAC, but don’t ask random strangers this. They don’t owe you an AAC tour. 

Thank you for listening! This post is for the community! If you are an AAC user, let me know if I missed something in the comments and I will pin it! I hope you are filled with peace and love and I hope something good happens to you today! End ID. 

[checkeredflagggs]

One More

Pairing: carlos sainz x wife!reader

summary: you have a secret to share with your husband

a/n: this literally popped into my head at 3 am and demanded to be written

Masterlist

Private Messages, Reyes and y/n

Private Messages, Lily/Alexandra and y/n

f1wagwatch

user1: ok but even crying she’s so pretty

↳user2: gross?

↳user1: don’t judge me

user3: Carlos can you fight?

↳user4: seriously Carlos can you fight?!?

user5: all men do is disappoint

↳user6: don’t I know it

user7: ok but what’s actually happening?? Like yn is not the type to cry like that…

↳user8: and outside the Sainz house??

↳user9: ummm where are the boys??

↳user10: that’s what I’d like to know…

↳user11: are we seeing the end of the Sainz couple???

↳user12: don’t even speak that into existence

user13: oh my god leave her alone?!?

↳user14: right?? Like fuck off

↳user14: leave the poor women alone…

Private Messages, Carlos and y/n

f1wagwatch

liked by user, user, user, and 728,823 others

f1wagwatch: Y/N Sainz makes a surprise appearance at Barcelona this weekend — a desperate attempt to mend a broken marriage or a heartfelt gesture from a loving wife?

view all comments

user15: my crops are watered, my skin is clear, the sun is shining

user16: the scream I scrumpt when I saw her cross my screen

user3: I still wanna know if Carlos can fight — because I will for her

user17: ok you guys need to stop trying to stir up trouble — they both fucking glowed when they saw each other

↳user18: no for real — Carlos like legit froze when he saw her walking his way

↳user19: I never knew someone could freeze so quickly…

user20: did anyone else see how Carlos glowed when y/n was on his arm??

↳user21: oh that man is so down bad

user22: I’m gonna say heartfelt surprise based on the way neither of them could stand to be more than 2 feet away from one another…

↳user23: omg right??? Like Carlos looked so panicked when y/n stepped away so they could get a solo picture of Carlos

↳user24: the look of betrayal he shot y/n was gold…

f1wagwatch

user25: god they are so in love…

↳user26: I want what they have

↳user25: so do I

user27: they’re shutting those rumors down hard

↳user28: and good for them!

user29: so fucking classy…

user30: ok but what was the good news??

↳user31: …am I’m crazy or 👶🏻??

↳user32: oh my god I hope so!?! Their kids are so cute

user33: the streets are saying it’s definitely a new baby Sainz!!

↳user34: oh I can’t wait!

carlossainz55

liked by y/n, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, and 2,813,183 others

tagged: y/n

carlossainz55: Newest racer coming this fall 💙💙

view all comments

y/n: One of the days of my life

↳carlossainz55: you make me happier every day, Cielito

charles_leclerc: another baby sainz? Félicitations!

↳alexandrasaintmleux: a baby!! Oh I’m so excited and happy for you two

↳carlossainz55: ¡Gracias!

alex_albon: Baby sainz in the paddock?? Hell yeah!

↳alex_albon: I get to claim this one as my nephew right??

↳lilymhe: we absolutely do!

↳y/n: you’ll be the best aunt and uncle for this one 💙💙

landonorris: another godson for me to spoil???

↳charles_leclerc: another?? You don’t have a claim on Diego and Santiago! They’re my godsons!

↳alex_albon: ummm teammate privilege? I’m totally godfather

↳landonorris: you’re both wrong!

↳y/n: you’re all wrong — none of you are godfathers

↳charles_leclerc: what?

↳alex_albon: harsh

↳landonorris: WHAT? carlossainz55 explain yourselves

↳carlossainz55: sorry hermano but whatever y/n says goes liked by y/n

williamsracing: making some baby clothes as we speak

↳y/n: sorry not sorry but this baby sainz will be a Ferrari fan like their older brothers

↳scuderiaferrari: sending you another package as we speak liked by y/n

↳williamsracing: 😢😢

↳y/n: I’m just listening to Sebastian

↳williamsracing: I guess we understand

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @il0vereadingstuff @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @princessesgarden @galaxygurlll @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @woderfulkawaii @fastandcurious16 @lilyofthevalley-09 @rexit-mo @alessa-the-enchantress @1800-love-me @greantii @toodeepintofandoms @tukes @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lecfosimaxbull @dramaticpiratellamas @devilacot @supernatural-harrypotter7 @nightrose-18 @alexxavicry @vhkdncu2ei8997 @purplephantomwolf

[cardo-de-comer]

soo helloo and i think it's time for me to explain the deal with my characters and this whole "you're not supposed to be here" thing. EDIT: finally updated the info! Also I now have a Unvale profile that I use as a gallery and keep my ocs art in there. You can check it out if you don't want to scroll trough the ynstbh hashtag on my tumblr ha here it is

i made these characters way back in june and by today they have a lot of lore around them in my head. i even have a dream to make a game with them but it's just a dream for now so i'm gonna try to explain the main things about this story. Obviously this is a long post, although I tried to keep this stuff short. and excuse me for my writing and any mistakes, I don't usually write this much text.

It starts with the world. Alternate 15th century, humanity is almost gone and what's left of it shares quite a big city with demons and angels. However, demons and angels are usually being treated like servants - eventually one gets tired of it all, so everyone knows an uprising is just around the corner. Let's just ignore that for now.

The City has a catch of it's own - it's alive. The walls have eyes and ears and the City knows every resident by heart and soul, both figuratively and literally. Usually City acts through the King, it chooses protectors for itself, ones who have strong minds to comprehend it - they will be called the royal knights, each of them have a company of a /more wiser than the rest of them/ demon and angel to help with their tasks. Only the King and ten royal knights know that the City is alive and very talkative but they don't understand fully what it's trying to tell them. Most of them choose to ignore the voices in their head because hey, that's what you do usually in this situation, otherwise they drive you nuts.

City is also extremely emotional and it's appearance depends on it's condition. Usually it's a sunny day out and the city looks welcoming, but you don't want to be there when the City is scared: it might eat you alive by accident. Now that the environment is aside, time for the main three characters.

I need to add that all characters are entwined with each other one way or another - everything is connected here in my head and it's a shame I cannot tell you fully about how it all is.

Imri is a man of a few words, usually stoic and prefers to stay on his own side, not choosing between Sun and Moon or Hells and Heaven. Chosen to be one of the Royal Knights, he's highly trained to fight for himself and protect the City. Though he actually wanted to be a painter. Always collected and confident, he rarely shows emotion and understands little of it, as well as feelings. There is something uncanny, wrong and strange about him. Despite all of this, he still has human fears and boundaries that he has driven himself into, trying to conform to the society of his time.

The Eighth One is Imri's "true" form - it's his very Soul, that takes the shape of a eight-pointed star. It sees a true nature of things and what drives them - if there were any humans left, when the Eighth One appeared, it would probably see them as a lot of blood because blood is what moves us. With that it sees the City as it is - it looks like an abomination. Souls were made by the Gods a long long time ago - although it's hard to tell how many of them are there - the Eighth One is just the one we know about. They appear at late point of the script. The Eighth One is a glass cannon.

Royal knights get to know their angel and demon companions at least a month before they get knighted to avoid any misunderstandings. Imri doesn't mind his friends at all, although one of them causes quite a fuss sometimes /cough cough devil cough/.

Angel /they name themselves Lyra/ is an overly positive, naive and blindly kind entity. A bit childish and very kind but also endlessly naive, can do "good" to that extend it actually becomes "bad".

One of the most beloved by Gods angel, they were made an archangel back in Heaven. Ynstbh lore goes along bible a lot, so it's true that Lyra was the one who threw the Devil out of heavens when he started to cause problems. You can hear a lot of echoing voices when they talk.

Another Imri companion happened to be the Devil himself. Yes, everyone knows who this is, everyone avoids him and he's not supposed to be here at all. No one knows why exactly he's here, but maybe it's because no one dares to ask. And Imri just doesn't care enough.

He's everything you expect a devil to be. Similar to Bible, was an angel once, angered the Gods (multiple times), got thrown out, became whatever he is now. Did a lot of horrific things and plans to do more. Knows a lot more than he tells.

Sun and Moon are the gods of this universe. All powerful but also nonchalant about the world below, they focus more on their own business. Rarely show themselves to humans, so all they usually see is a celestial body.

Despite always looking calm, the Sun is always full of feelings, warmth and love. It's almost sensual in a way. However, they are very distant and prefer to keep everything to themselves. Ages ago, when the Gods were a little "younger", Sun was a bit more open and very curious, especially about humanity. The Sun is blind, however, it still can see a lot, because what is blindness to a god? They choose to be this way.

The Moon is more chaotic, likes to break and corrupt things, a lot more eager to show and tells what they feel. Their mood changes with each moon phase quite drastically. Moon has a lot of influence on a darker things and entities, such as fallen angels and demons.

Angels and demons were made by Sun and Moon and they come in all forms and sizes but those are the main population - lesser demons resemble the Devil in some ways and lesser angels look like clovers. Rivals usually (though they fought like children) but when the revolution happens, they learn to tolerate and work with each other. Humanity doesn't really have a chance.

Rev is a demon that was in charge of the City's guard. Known for his short-tempered demeanor, he was the only one who could control other demons well. When the revolution finally happened, he became the one in the lead - though he's not the one who started it. There is another God.

Time is the, well, time. It's a solitary god, that prefers to stay away from other gods, Sun and Moon. However, everything, including them, depends on Time heavily. Time resembles a bell and has a lot of candles, making you think about churches, but humans tend to forget about Time quite often so there's no churches in their honor left. They don't mind. They are a very minor character in script so they appear only at the start and the end very briefly.

And there is another being, that Imri meets a few times through the story - it's Death. Death is just having fun in this end of the world and there is a lot of work to be done. I haven't drawn them separately yet but Death appears here along with Imri.

The whole story begins at that day when Imri is supposed to be knighted. Everything seemed fine until Imri gets to hear the City for the first time and realizes that he hears and sees a lot more than everyone else. Completely overwhelmed he blacks out - even the toughest of minds often can't take it - and wakes up later only to find out that the King got killed somehow, angels and demons saw this as the starting point for a revolution and the City starts to panic.

Now Imri, guided by his companions and the voice of scared City that's crumbling and slowly drives him insane, shall travel to the center of it to find out what really happened, getting through demons and angels who are busy destroying the rest of humanity. Fun. I'm pretty sure you can get more story and details from my art - I just don't really know how to put it into text right now.

There is a lot more to this whole thing but I cannot tell the entire plot because spoilers, in case if i actually will make something out of this story. Think of it as a game lore. I'm not sure about making sth yet because i operate only on hopes and dreams and i barely have any strength lately but who knows... But now you have at least some context! And yeah, thank you if you actually read all of this, you're a hero.

Now i need to get back to drawing. Thank you all for your support. <3

[coriihanniee]

WE COULD BE FREE ⋆˚࿔ (part 2)

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, fluff, comfort ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of death/injuries, use of weapons, sexy hot fictional men

۶ৎ A/N : due to popular demand, here is part 2 of my reincarnated!reader x saja boys~ thank you to all the love and overwhelming support in part 1! 🥹 I didn't expect so many of you to enjoy it!

TELL ME, WILL WE SURVIVE ⋆˚࿔ (part 1)

The notification sound echoed through the dorm's living room for the fifteenth time in an hour. You glanced up from your phone, watching as Rumi frowned at something on her phone screen.

"Look at this," she said, turning the phone towards the group. The trending page was flooded with Saja Boys content, fan edits, concert clips, and millions of views on every single post. "They've gained two million followers in the past week."

Mira peered over Rumi's shoulder, her eyebrows raising. "That's... impossible. Even the biggest groups don't blow up that fast."

"And look at these comments," Zoey added, scrolling through her phone. Her usual confident demeanor had an edge of unease. "Listen to this, 'I can't stop thinking about Saja Boys. They're perfect.' And this one, 'I've watched their latest video fifty times today. Can't help myself.'"

You felt a chill run down your spine. Those words sounded wrong, like echoes of someone else's voice.

"They all sound the same," Mira observed, reading over Zoey's shoulder. "Like they're... compelled to write them."

However, it wasn’t just the Saja Boys’ sudden viral explosion that made your stomach twist. You could feel the Honmoon growing weaker. Not because fans were leaving, but because their attention, energy and devotion were being pulled elsewhere.

"When did this start?" Rumi asked, her sharp gaze sweeping over the three of you. "Zoey, check when their numbers started spiking."

The room fell silent except for the rapid clicking of keys. When the data appeared on screen, your heart dropped. The surge had begun exactly seven days ago. Seven days since...

"Right after our individual missions," you said quietly, the realization hitting you.

All eyes turned to you. Rumi's expression was unreadable, but you can feel your heartbeat climb into your throat at her eyes glancing at your direction with suspicion, concern, maybe both.

"The encounters," Zoey breathed. "It started the day after we met with the Saja Boys."

"Demonic influence," Rumi said grimly. "They're using their powers to hypnotize people and pull their energy towards them. The Honmoon isn't breaking because we're losing fans, it's weakening because our fans' devotion is being redirected."

You felt that hollow ache in your chest where the warm flow of the Honmoon used to be strong and steady. It was still there, but muted now.

"If they drain enough spiritual energy from enough people..." you said quietly, understanding flooding through you.

"They'll be powerful enough to do whatever Gwi-Ma has planned," Rumi finished, her jaw set with determination. "Which means we need to stop them before they can complete whatever ritual they're building towards. Each of us needs to track down the Saja Boy we encountered before. Find out how they're doing this and break their hypnotic hold."

"But what if—" you started, then stopped yourself. What if what? What if you didn't want to stop them? The thought had come unbidden, treacherous, and you pushed it down quickly.

"What if what?" Rumi's voice was gentle but probing.

You looked around at your groupmates, Rumi, who'd been your anchor since debut. Mira, whose strength held you all together. Zoey, whose fierce loyalty had gotten you through countless challenges. They were your family, your chosen sisters. But when you thought about the Saja Boys, about that strange encounter a week ago...

"Nothing," you said finally. "You're right. We need to stop this."

As the others began planning their individual missions, you couldn't shake the memory of how that encounter had felt. Despite everything you'd been taught about demons. They had felt like... coming home.

Rumi placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. "Are you sure you're ready for this? You seem distracted lately."

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just worried about our fans."

She studied your face for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. Same as before, we split up, track them down, and neutralize the threat. Stay in contact, and if anything goes wrong, call for backup immediately."

As your groupmates gathered their gear and prepared to leave, you stared at your reflection in the black screen of the television. Your own face looked back at you, but for just a moment, you could have sworn you saw someone else, someone from dreams you couldn't quite remember, someone who had loved and been loved in return.

You shook your head, dispelling the illusion. 

You were a member of Huntrix. 

You had a job to do.

JINU ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A week had passed since your confrontation with Jinu in the abandoned office building. A week of sleepless nights of fragmented dreams and memories that felt achingly familiar haunted your every waking moment. The other members of Huntrix had noticed your distraction during practice, but you'd deflected their concerns with lies about exhaustion.

You couldn't tell them about the conversation that had shattered everything you thought you knew about your past.

The Saja Boys' influence was growing stronger, and reports of missing fans were growing from across the city. Rumi had assigned you to track Jinu again, convinced that he was the key to understanding their sudden surge in power.

Now you crouched on the fire escape of a warehouse, watching the empty street below while gripping your silver blade. The blessed metal gleamed in the moonlight, sharp and ready to kill. But your hands trembled as you held the weapon, the memory of dropping your blade nights ago still fresh in your mind.

A disturbance in the shadows caught your attention.

Two figures moved through the maze of abandoned factories with predatory grace. These weren't the elegant, human-like demons of the Saja Boys. These were lesser demons, twisted creatures with too many teeth and eyes that burned like coals, the kind that served Gwi-Ma's lower ranks and fed on terror.

You dropped silently to the alley below, following their movements through the industrial complex. All demons served Gwi-Ma in some capacity, but the lesser ones were often sent on reconnaissance missions, scouting for potential feeding grounds or threats to their master's operations.

The creatures had stopped near a cluster of shipping containers, their forms barely visible in the darkness. You crept closer, silver blade ready, but one of them sensed your approach before you could strike.

"Hunter," it hissed, its voice like grinding metal. "How delicious."

The second demon turned towards you, abandoning whatever had occupied its attention. Both creatures began to circle you with calculated precision, cutting off escape routes with practiced efficiency.

Your training kicked in. You lunged at the nearest demon, your blade slicing across its torso. Silver burned through demonic flesh, and the creature shrieked, stumbling backwards. But it didn't fall. 

The second demon struck while you were focused on the first, its claws raking across your back. Hot pain bloomed between your shoulder blades, and you could feel blood soaking through your jacket. You spun around, bringing your blade up in a defensive arc, but the wounded demon had recovered and was stalking towards you from behind.

Two against one with an injury was manageable in theory, but these demons moved with coordinated intelligence born from centuries of serving under Gwi-Ma's command. Your blood loss was already affecting your reflexes.

The wounded demon feinted left while its companion attacked from the right. You blocked one set of claws but couldn't avoid the other entirely. New cuts opened across your ribs, deeper than the first wounds.

You stumbled, your vision blurring at the edges. The demons sensed weakness and pressed their advantage, forcing you back against a concrete wall. Your silver blade wavered in your grip as exhaustion and blood loss took their toll.

"Sweet little hunter," one of them crooned, its voice sickeningly melodic. "Lord Gwi-Ma will be pleased with this offering."

You raised your blade one final time, knowing it was futile. You were going to die in a dirty alley, far from your teammates, torn apart by Gwi-Ma's servants and your soul delivered to their master as tribute.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness behind the demons like smoke given form. Before either creature could react, Jinu was there, his hand wrapped around the nearest demon's throat. You didn't even have the time to react. Within seconds, the two demons were nothing more than a pile of ash on the concrete.

The alley fell silent except for your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.

Jinu turned to you, his dark eyes scanning your form for injuries. When he saw the blood seeping through your jacket, his expression twisted with concern, guilt, perhaps, or self-loathing.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine," you lied, even as the pain in your back made you grit your teeth.

He stepped closer, and you instinctively raised your blade. He stopped immediately, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Let me help you."

"Why?" The word came out harsher than you intended. "Why did you save me from your own kind?"

His eyes met yours, and in them you saw the same pain that had been haunting your dreams for days. "Because losing you once was enough to last eternity."

You stared at him, your weapon still raised between you like a barrier. The logical part of your mind screamed that this was a trap, but another part, deeper and older, recognized the anguish in his voice.

"Those demons," you said carefully. "They mentioned Gwi-Ma. They serve him directly."

"All demons serve Gwi-Ma in some capacity," Jinu replied, his jaw tightening. "But that doesn't mean we're all allies. Hierarchy exists even in hell."

"And where do you fit in that hierarchy?"

"Higher than I deserve. Lower than I once hoped." He looked down at his hands, still stained with demon ash. "High enough that lesser demons fear me, but not high enough to free myself from his control."

You studied his face, seeing the weight of centuries in his expression. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was getting worse. You could feel blood trickling down your spine, warm and sticky.

"The Saja Boys," you said slowly. "This whole idol group, it's not just about collecting souls, is it?"

Jinu's composure cracked slightly. "No. It's not."

"Then what is it about?"

"Forgetting." The word came out like a confession. "For four hundred years, I've carried the memories of what I did. What I lost. What I abandoned." His voice broke on the last word. "The music, the performances, the adoration of thousands of fans, it drowns out the voices in my head. It makes the guilt... quieter."

"What voices?"

"Yours. My mother's. My sister's." He looked at you with eyes full of centuries-old pain. "All the people I left behind when I made my deal with Gwi-Ma. All the people who died because I was too selfish to stay and fight poverty alongside them."

The pieces began falling into place. "The deal... it was only for you."

"I was so desperate to escape. So tired of watching you go hungry, of seeing my mother's hands crack from cold, of feeling helpless while my sister grew thinner each day." His voice was barely a whisper. "When Gwi-Ma offered me a way out, I thought... I thought I could come back for you. I thought once I had wealth and status, I could bring you all to live with me."

"But you couldn't."

"The palace guards turned you away. The deal lifted only me from poverty. Gwi-Ma wanted me to feel the weight of my choice every day." Jinu's hands clenched into fists. "I lived in silk and gold while you starved in the streets I'd fled."

Your blade lowered without conscious thought. "We died."

"You all died hating me." Tears tracked down his cheeks. "The bond we shared... I felt your life leave your body, and I knew you died cursing my name."

The memory hit you like a lightning strike, cold, hunger, the bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth as you realized Jinu wasn't coming back. The way his mother had wept when the palace guards turned them away. How his sister had called his name one final time before the sickness took her.

"I remember," you whispered. "The guards... they laughed at us. They said you'd instructed them to keep the beggars away."

"I never said that. I swear I never—"

"I know." The words surprised you with their certainty. "I can see it now. You tried to reach us."

"Every day for months I begged, pleaded, offered everything I had gained. But the deal was binding. Gwi-Ma had orchestrated it perfectly, I could have wealth and status, but I could never share it with those I loved most."

You understood now why the patterns had spread across his skin, why he'd been transformed into a demon. The guilt alone would have been enough to damn him, but Gwi-Ma had ensured the punishment fit the crime.

"The demon transformation," you said. "It happened because of the guilt."

"The more I regretted my choice, the more the patterns spread. Gwi-Ma's voice grew louder in my mind, feeding on my torment. Eventually, the curse completed its work and I became exactly what I'd made a deal with, a demon bound to serve the very creature who had destroyed everything I loved."

"And for four hundred years, you've been trying to forget."

"The Saja Boys weren't just about serving Gwi-Ma's interests. They were about drowning out the memories, creating something loud enough to silence the guilt. But then you appeared, and suddenly..." He looked at you with desperate eyes. "Suddenly all the music in the world couldn't make me forget your face."

Your back was throbbing, but you barely noticed. "Is that why you recognized me immediately? Because you never truly forgot?"

"I couldn't forget. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how many souls I helped harvest, no matter how much adoration I basked in, your voice calling my name as you died was always there, waiting in the quiet moments."

"Do you regret it?" you asked. "Making the deal?"

"Every breath I've taken for the past four centuries has been a regret." His voice was raw with pain. "But regret doesn't resurrect the dead. It doesn't undo abandonment. It doesn't—"

"It doesn't change the past," you finished. "But we're not in the past anymore."

Jinu stared at you in shock. "How can you even look at me? I left you to die. I chose my own comfort over your life, over my family's survival. I'm the reason you suffered, the reason you—"

"Stop." You stepped closer to him, close enough to see the demonic patterns that traced along his skin like a map of his guilt. "You made a choice born from desperation and love. You wanted to save us, and Gwi-Ma twisted that desire into a trap."

"That doesn't excuse—"

"No, it doesn't excuse anything. But it explains it." You reached up and touched his face, feeling him tremble under your palm. "You were barely more than a boy, watching the people you loved waste away. When someone offered you a way to save them, of course you took it. The fact that it was a trap doesn't make you evil, it makes you human."

"I'm not human anymore."

"No," you agreed. "But you're still the man who used to tend my wounds. Still the man who played music in the streets to earn enough coin for medicine when his sister fell ill. Still the man who loved his family enough to fuck himself over trying to save them."

Jinu broke completely at your words, falling to his knees as four centuries of suppressed grief poured out of him. You knelt beside him, ignoring the pain in your back, and pulled him against you.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed into your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to find another path."

"I forgive you," you whispered, and felt the truth of it settle in your bones. "I forgive you, Jinu. I forgive all of it."

"But I'm a demon. You're a hunter. The things I've done in service to Gwi-Ma—"

"We'll figure it out." You helped him stand, your own wounds protesting the movement. "There has to be a way to break his hold over you. There has to be a path forward that doesn't end in more loss."

"And if there isn't?"

"Then we face whatever comes together. No more abandoning each other anymore."

Jinu searched your face as if memorising every detail. "You're certain? Once we cross this line, there's no going back. Your friends will see it as betrayal."

"They won’t, trust me." You winced as pain shot through your back. "Now help me with these wounds so we can figure out how to save each other."

As Jinu carefully tended to your injuries, his hands as gentle as they had been four centuries ago, you felt the last pieces of your memories clicking into place. You remembered the love you'd shared, the dreams you'd built together, and yes, the pain of his abandonment and the bitterness of your death.

But you also remembered the man beneath the demon, the choices that had led him here, and the guilt that had been eating him alive for longer than most civilizations had existed.

Honestly, you didn't know how you were going to reconcile your duty to Huntrix with your love for Jinu. You didn't know if there was a way to free him from Gwi-Ma's control without destroying him in the process.

But you knew you would face whatever came together. Even if it meant challenging a demon lord, betraying your calling, or rewriting the very rules that governed love and redemption.

ABBY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You found him in an abandoned subway tunnel, exactly where you'd agreed to meet. The space echoed with the distant rumble of trains above, fluorescent lights flickering against graffitied walls. Abby was sitting on an old bench, looking surprisingly relaxed for someone who was supposed to be hunted.

"You came," he said, looking up as your footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

"I said I would." You sat beside him, close enough to talk quietly but far enough to maintain the illusion of professionalism if anyone happened upon you. "Rumi's assigned me to track you again. Solo mission this time."

"Lucky me." His grin was sharp, but there was warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there during your first encounter. "So what's the play sweetheart? You gonna chase me around the city for a few hours before I conveniently slip away?"

"Something like that." You pulled out your phone, showing him the tracking device readings Huntrix had given you. "They're monitoring my progress. We need to make this look good."

Abby leaned closer to study the screen, and you caught the scent of his cologne. It triggered a flash of memory, sitting close like this before, but in sunlight, sharing bread on a hillside.

"You okay?" he asked, noticing how you'd gone still.

"Just... flashes. Memories that don't quite fit." You rubbed your temple. "It's like trying to remember a dream."

"That's normal. Reincarnation scrambles things." His voice was gentler now. "Want to talk about it while we walk? Might help piece things together."

You both stood, and he gestured towards the deeper tunnels. "There's an old platform about half a mile down. Good acoustics for a dramatic chase scene."

As you walked side by side through the dim tunnel, the silence felt comfortable rather than tense. It occurred to you that this should be awkward, demon and hunter pretending to hunt each other, instead it felt natural.

"Tell me about the memories," Abby said quietly. "What do you see?"

"Fragments, mostly. Sitting somewhere sunny, sharing food. Your hands..." You glanced at his hands, noting how they dwarfed yours now. "They were smaller then. Thinner."

"I was sick a lot," he admitted. "Weak. Could barely keep food down most days." His jaw tightened. "Not exactly hero material."

"But you were kind." The words came automatically. "You always shared whatever you had, even when you didn't have enough."

Abby stopped walking. "You remember that?"

"I remember..." You closed your eyes, letting the memory surface. "You made soup from scraps, and you gave me the pieces of meat even though you needed them more."

"You tried to give them back," he said softly. "You said you weren't hungry, but I could hear your stomach growling."

The memory crystallized suddenly. A tiny room with walls that barely kept out the cold, two bowls between you, and the way he'd smiled when you finally ate the meat he'd saved for you.

"What happened? In our past life, I mean. How did I die?"

Abby was quiet for so long you thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled.

"There were men. Rich merchants who thought they could take whatever they wanted from people like us." His hands clenched into fists. "They cornered you in an alley. I tried to stop them, but I was so weak I could barely stand after a coughing fit."

Rough hands grabbing you, a thin boy shouting your name, the feeling of helplessness as you were dragged away from him.

"You tried to fight them," you said, the words coming back to you. "Even though you could barely breathe."

"Lot of good it did." His laugh was bitter. "I watched them kill you, and I couldn't do anything but scream."

"That's not true." You stopped walking and turned to face him. "You held me after. When they were gone, you found me and you held me."

Abby's composure cracked. "You remember that?"

"Your hands were shaking. You kept saying you were sorry, that you should have been stronger." You reached out tentatively, touching his arm. "But I wasn't angry. I was just... sad that we didn't have more time."

"You told me you loved me right at the end. And I promised you that if I ever got another chance, I'd be strong enough to protect you."

"And you made a deal with Gwi-Ma."

"The day after your funeral. He appeared to me." Abby's voice hardened. "He offered me everything I'd ever wanted, strength, power, the ability to never be helpless again. All I had to do was serve him."

"What was the price?"

"My humanity, eventually. And a hundred and twenty three years of wondering if I'd ever see you again." He looked at you with an expression that was equal parts hope and fear. "Some nights I convinced myself it was worth it. Other nights..."

"Other nights you regretted it."

"I regretted every single one." He started walking again, and you fell into step beside him. "But then you showed up in that fight club, and suddenly every day of the past century made sense."

You walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, processing the weight of shared memory and loss. The tunnel opened up ahead into what had once been a subway platform, complete with tiled walls and abandoned benches.

"This is perfect," you said, pulling out your phone to check the tracker. "Dramatic lighting, multiple exits. Very cinematic."

"You want cinematic? I can give you cinematic." Abby grinned, and for a moment he looked like the boy from your memories, mischievous and alive despite everything. "What's our story? How does this chase play out?"

"You're overconfident. I'm persistent. We fight, you get the upper hand, but then something distracts you and I almost get you before you escape at the last second."

"What kind of distraction?"

You considered this. "Personal. Something that throws you off balance emotionally."

"Like what?"

"Like me asking why you became a demon."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "That's not acting, sweetheart. That's just therapy with weapons."

"Maybe that's what we both need."

His expression grew serious. "You sure about this? Once we cross that line, there's no pretending it's just a performance."

"I'm sure."

He nodded and moved to the center of the platform. "Alright then. Let's give Huntrix a show."

You activated your tracking device and drew your weapon. Immediately, Abby's entire demeanour shifted. Gone was the gentle man who'd been sharing memories with you. In his place stood the cocky fighter from the underground ring, all dangerous grace and sharp grins.

"Well, well," he called out, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Look who found me. Miss me already?"

"You're under arrest," you said, loud enough for your comm device to pick up. "Come quietly and this doesn't have to get messy."

"Where's the fun in that?" He rolled his shoulders, muscles rippling under his shirt. "Besides, we both know how this ends."

You lunged at him with your blade, and he dodged with fluid grace. He was pulling his punches, making sure his strikes looked devastating without actually hurting you.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunted, but his eyes were careful, watching to make sure you were okay.

"I'm just getting started." You spun, bringing your blade around in an arc that he blocked with his forearm. The silver stung him, you could see him wince, but he didn't retreat.

"That's more like it." He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, pulling you back against his chest with your own blade at your throat. To anyone listening, it would sound like he had the upper hand. "You know, you're prettier when you're not trying to kill me."

"Let me go," you said, but there was no real fear in your voice.

"Not yet." His breath was warm against your ear. "We haven't finished our conversation."

"What conversation?"

"The one about why I became a monster for you."

You drove your elbow back into his ribs, and he released you with a grunt that was only half-acted. When you spun to face him, his mask had slipped slightly.

"You want to know why?" His voice was rougher and more honest. "Because watching you die broke me. A hundred and twenty three years of nightmares seemed like a fair trade for the chance to keep you safe."

"And what if I don't need protecting?"

"Then I'll love you anyway." The words escaped before he could stop them, raw in this echoing space.

The admission hung between you like a bridge. You could cross it or burn it down.

"Abby," you whispered.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know it's complicated. I know you have a life, a mission, people who depend on you. But when I look at you, I see the person I've been waiting over a century to find again."

Your comm device crackled with Rumi's voice. "Status report. Do you have visual on the target?"

Reality crashed back. You were supposed to be chasing him, not having a heart-to-heart in an abandoned subway tunnel.

"He's here," you said into the comm, then looked at Abby with apology in your eyes. "But he's about to slip away."

Understanding flashed across his face. "Right. Back to the show."

He moved towards one of the tunnel exits, but slowly, giving you time to "pursue" him. You followed, making your footsteps loud and obvious.

"Stop right there!" you called out.

"Can't do that, sweetheart!" He paused at the mouth of the tunnel, silhouetted against the dim light beyond. "But this isn't over!"

"I'll find you again!"

"I'm counting on it!"

He disappeared into the shadows, and you stood alone on the platform, breathing hard from more than just the chase.

"Target escaped," you reported into your comm. "Lost him in the tunnel system."

"Copy that," Rumi's voice crackled back. "Return to the dorms for debrief."

You were about to leave when you noticed something on the bench where Abby had been sitting earlier. A piece of paper, folded small and tucked under the armrest where only someone looking carefully would find it.

You unfolded it to find an address written in careful handwriting, along with a simple message: "When you're ready to stop performing."

As you made your way back through the tunnels, your mind raced with the implications of what had just happened. You'd helped a demon escape. You'd lied to your groupmates. You'd crossed a line that there was no coming back from.

However, you'd also remembered what it felt like to be loved completely, without reservation or condition. You'd remembered a boy who'd given up his humanity for the chance to protect you. You'd realized that some bonds really were stronger than duty.

For the first time since your memories had started returning, you finally knew which choice you were going to make.

ROMANCE ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A week had passed since the rooftop encounter, and you hadn't slept properly since. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that ring catching the neon light, heard his voice breaking as he spoke of seventy two hours by your deathbed..

You'd thrown yourself into training with renewed intensity, pushing your body until exhaustion forced the memories away. But nothing could silence the echo of his words. 

Someone I loved more than my own existence.

Your mind replayed back to today's briefing : 

"Are we deploying as a full team?" 

"No. Individual assignments based on our intelligence about each demon's capabilities." Rumi's eyes met yours across the table. "I'm assigning you to track Romance specifically. Your previous encounter gives you insight into his methods."

The blood drained from your face. You gripped the edge of the table, hoping no one would notice the tremor in your hands.

"His emotional manipulation techniques are particularly dangerous," Rumi continued. "But you've proven resistant to his influence. You're our best chance at—"

"I can't." The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

The room fell silent. Mira raised an eyebrow while Zoey's concerned gaze shifted between you and Rumi.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Rumi's voice carried a note of authority, but still laced with concern.

"I mean..." You struggled to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. "Perhaps someone else would be better suited. My last encounter with him was... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Mira's tone was sharp with curiosity.

"He got into my head more than I'd like to admit." It wasn't entirely a lie. "His particular brand of manipulation might be more effective on me than we initially thought."

Zoey reached across the table, her expression softening. "If you're not comfortable with this assignment, we can adjust. Mira could take Romance while you handle one of the others!"

The offer hung in the air, a lifeline you desperately wanted to take. But the thought of one of your friends facing Romance, facing the grief and twisted love that had consumed him for centuries made your stomach turn. They wouldn't understand what drove him. They would see only a demon to be eliminated, not a man destroyed by loss.

"No," you said finally. "I can handle it. I just... needed a moment to prepare mentally."

Rumi's eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. "Alright then. We'll position ourselves around the area and move in when they separate."

As the briefing concluded and your teammates filed out, you remained seated.

"Are you sure about this?" Mira had lingered behind, her voice gentle with concern.

"I have to be."

"No, you don't. If this demon has some kind of psychological hold over you—"

"He doesn't." The lie came easier this time. "I won't let him manipulate me again."

Mira studied your face for a long moment before nodding. "Just... be careful. And remember, you're not alone out there. We're all connected by comms."

After she left, you sat in the empty briefing room. The weight of what you were about to do pressed down on your chest like a stone.

The botanical gardens at sunset were eerily beautiful. Golden light filtered through the glass walls of the greenhouses, casting prismatic rainbows across the pathways. You moved silently through the outer corridors, your silver blade secured at your side, backup positioned at strategic points around the perimeter.

Your comm crackled softly. "Mira in position," came the whispered report. 

"Zoey here. I've got eyes on Mystery."

"Copy that," Rumi's voice was barely audible through the static. "Target separation confirmed. Move to intercept."

You switched off your comm and continued deeper into the garden. It felt like walking through a dream. Overgrown rose bushes created natural corridors between forgotten flower beds, their thorns catching on your clothes as you navigated the maze of vegetation. 

You found Romance in the heart of the garden, surrounded by what had once been a carefully cultivated meditation area. 

"I wondered if you'd come," he said without turning around. "The others are handling your friends well enough, I assume."

You stepped into the light, silver blade already in your hand. "This ends tonight."

"Does it?" He finally looked at you, and his expression was utterly calm. "I'm not going to fight you."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm tired." Romance's voice carried a weariness that seemed to span centuries. "Tired of pretending this existence has meaning, creating false love to fill the void you left behind, being something you would have hated."

The blade wavered in your grip. "You don't get to use guilt as a weapon."

"I'm not trying to manipulate you." He stood slowly.  "I'm telling you the truth. For the first time in centuries, I'm being completely honest."

"The truth about what?"

"About why I really became a demon." Romance took a step closer, and you instinctively raised your weapon. He stopped immediately, hands visible and empty. "It wasn't just because I couldn't love anyone else. It was because I couldn't live with the guilt of failing you."

"You didn't fail me. I died of illness."

"I failed you by not being strong enough to save you. By not having the money for better medicine, better doctors. By not being able to give you the life you deserved." His voice cracked. "I held your hand while you died, and all I could think about was how I'd never get to marry you, never get to give you children, never get to grow old with you."

Your chest tightened with familiar pain, that same inexplicable ache that had plagued you since the rooftop encounter.

"So you made a deal with Gwi-Ma to become something that could manufacture love for others?"

"I thought... if I could give other people what I couldn't give you, it would balance the scales somehow. Make up for my failures." Romance's laugh was bitter. "Instead, I became a mockery of everything you taught me about love."

"What did I teach you about love?"

"That it should be freely given. That it should make people stronger, not weaker. That it should be based on truth, not lies." Tears tracked down his cheeks. "Every heart I've touched, every false emotion I've created, has been a betrayal of those principles."

You lowered your blade slightly, unable to reconcile the monster you'd been sent to kill with the broken man standing before you. "Then why continue? Why not find another way?"

"Because the alternative is facing the truth that I've spent centuries running from." Romance's voice dropped to a whisper. "That you're gone. That I failed you. That I'm alone."

"You're not alone."

The words escaped before you could stop them. Romance's eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths like a candle in the wind.

"What?"

"I mean..." You struggled to find the right words. "You don't have to be alone. There are other paths forward."

"Not for someone like me. Not for someone who's done what I've done." Romance shook his head. "I've manipulated thousands of people. I've fed on their loneliness, their desperation for connection. I've created addicts who would rather live in beautiful lies than face reality."

"But you're not doing it out of malice. You're doing it out of grief."

"Does that make it better?"

You thought about that for a long moment, studying his face in the dim light. "No. But it makes it understandable."

"Understanding doesn't equal forgiveness."

"No," you agreed. "But it's a start."

Romance stared at you in amazement. "How can you even consider forgiving me? I'm everything you're trained to destroy."

"Because..." You took a shaky breath, the words feeling like stepping off a cliff. “I remember..."

His breath caught. "Remember what?"

"Pieces of my past,” You pressed a hand to your chest, where the ache had become a constant companion. "Someone holding my hand while I was sick, humming to distract me from the pain, whispering promises to me."

"What kind of promises?"

"That they'd always love me. That they'd find me again, even if it took forever." The memories surfaced like bubbles breaking on water's surface. "Someone who worked extra jobs to save money for something special."

Romance's composure cracked completely. "You remember the ring."

"I remember how it felt to see it. Like my heart was breaking and healing at the same time." You looked at him through your tears. "I remember loving someone so much that death couldn't make me forget."

"But you did forget. You lived whole lifetimes without remembering me."

"Maybe forgetting was necessary. I needed to live other lives, learn other lessons, before I could come back to you." You stepped closer, close enough to see the patterns of guilt and grief etched into his features. "Maybe this is what was supposed to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"I was reborn as a hunter. You became a demon. We found each other across centuries and multiple lifetimes." You reached out tentatively, your fingers barely brushing his cheek. "Maybe we're supposed to save each other."

Romance leaned into your touch like a man dying of thirst. "How do we do that?”

"I don't know," you admitted. "But I can't kill you. And I know that you can't keep living like this."

"Gwi-Ma won't simply release me from my contract."

"We'll find another way." You cupped his face in both hands, marveling at how right it felt despite everything. "You said you'd find me again, even if it took forever. Well, you found me. Now let's figure out what comes next."

"But you're a hunter. I'm a demon. Your friends—"

"They will have to understand. Besides, I made you a promise too, didn't I? On my deathbed?"

"You asked me to love someone else after you were gone."

"And you have. You've loved me through every lifetime, every reincarnation, every moment of the past few centuries." You pulled him closer, close enough to rest your forehead against his. "Maybe it's time to love me in person again."

MYSTERY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The dreams have been relentless since that night.

Every time you close your eyes, fragments surface like pieces of sea glass washed ashore by an insistent tide. A voice humming low and sweet while gentle fingers card through your hair. The weight of a head on your shoulder as you both watch stars wheel overhead. Whispered conversations in a language that feels like home but sounds like nothing you've ever learned.

And always, that melody threading through it all like a silver wire connecting past to present.

You wake each morning with tears on your cheeks and a name balanced on the tip of your tongue that dissolves before you can speak it. Sometimes there are other fragments, the rustle of silk skirts, the weight of elaborate hairpins, the suffocating sensation of being trapped in a gilded cage. But these pieces feel different, tinged with a desperation that makes your chest tight with phantom panic.

A week of this. A week of Rumi watching you with increasingly concerned eyes during briefings. A week of Mira asking if you need medical leave. A week of Zoey trying to cheer you up with increasingly elaborate breakfast presentations.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," Rumi observes during the briefing, her sharp eyes analysing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your hands tremble slightly around your coffee cup.

"I'm fine," you lie, because how do you explain that you're being haunted by memories that don't belong to you? That every time you close your eyes, you see a life where choice was a luxury you couldn't afford?

Night falls over Seoul like a curtain dropping on an empty stage. The arts district sleeps beneath flickering streetlights, galleries and theaters locked tight against the darkness. You move through shadows with practiced silence, silver blade concealed but ready.

The first three locations yield nothing but dust and echoes. It's at the fourth, an abandoned concert hall with a collapsed roof open to the stars that you hear it.

The melody.

It drifts from the building's heart like smoke, each note perfectly pitched to resonate in the hollow spaces of your chest. Your feet carry you forward without conscious thought, through the lobby with its shattered chandelier, past broken seats that once held audiences full of hope and wonder.

The main stage is bathed in moonlight streaming through the ruined ceiling. And there he is, seated at a piano that somehow survived the building's decay. His fingers move across keys that shouldn't be able to produce sound, yet music flows like water. 

He doesn't look up when you approach, but his smile is audible in the way the melody shifts. "You found me again."

"I was sent to find you." Your weapon remains sheathed, though you can't explain why. "You're Mystery."

"Ah, yes, that's what they're calling me.” His laugh harmonizes with the piano's voice. "I suppose it fits. I've always been a puzzle you couldn't quite solve."

"You're harvesting souls. You're draining people dry and leaving them empty, killing them."

His hands still on the keys. When he turns to face you, moonlight catches the shimmer of demonic markings along his temple, clearer now than before, like he's stopped trying to hide them.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"I think you're a demon who's been targeting innocents." Even as you say it, doubt creeps into your voice. "I think you need to be stopped."

"Do you?" He stands slowly, hands visible and empty. "Then stop me."

Your blade clears its sheath in one smooth motion, silver gleaming in the starlight. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move to defend himself. He just watches you with eyes that hold too much sorrow for someone who should be your enemy.

"I'm waiting," he says softly.

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

"Because I told you before, I'll never fight you." He takes a step closer, and you should retreat but your feet won't obey. "Even if you don't remember why."

"I remember fragments." The admission tears from your throat. "But that doesn't mean I won't do my job."

"Your job." He says it like the words taste bitter, something about his tone makes your skin crawl with phantom memories of being told your purpose. "Is that what this is to you? Just another assignment?"

"Yes." The lie comes out weaker than you intended, because suddenly you're remembering other moments of being told what you were supposed to do and accept.

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

You look down and curse silently. He's right, your grip on the blade wavers like a leaf in wind. "Adrenaline."

"Liar." He says it fondly, like an endearment. "You always were a terrible liar. Your eyes give you away every time. Even when they were trying to convince you that marrying someone of a higher status was your duty to your family."

Images flash through your mind after his words, cold eyes in a weathered face, hands that felt like iron shackles, the smell of expensive incense that couldn't mask the scent of other women's fear that clung to his robes.

"You remember him," Mystery says, watching your face carefully. "The man they tried to chain you to."

"I—" Your voice catches. "I remember being trapped. I remember wanting to run."

"You did run. You ran to me, that last night."

He's close enough now that you could strike, could end this with a single thrust of silver through his heart. Instead, you find yourself asking, "I've heard the melody you were playing before…” 

"I know."

"In memories that don't belong to me—” 

"They do belong to you. Just from a different lifetime." He reaches out slowly, telegraphing the movement, giving you every chance to pull away. "From when you had a different name, wore different clothes, but had the same fierce heart that refused to be caged."

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" His fingertips barely graze your cheek. "Tell me what you see when you hear that song."

Against every instinct, every piece of training, you close your eyes. The melody rises again, not from the piano this time, but hummed low in his throat, a sound that bypasses your ears and resonates directly in your bones.

The vision that comes is clearer than any dream :

You're nineteen again, wearing silk hanbok that marks you as nobility but feels like a beautiful prison. You've escaped through servants' quarters and garden walls to reach a hidden grove where music waits. He's there, younger face, human eyes, fingers dancing across wooden flute holes as he plays just for you.

"You came," he says, and his smile could light the world.

"I'll always come when you call," you whisper back, settling beside him on the grass, careful not to wrinkle the expensive fabric your mother chose. "Even if they're watching the house more closely now."

His music weaves around you like silk. When he finishes, you trace patterns on his back while he hums that melody, the one that's been haunting you across centuries.

"Run away with me," you whisper against his shoulder. "Before the wedding ceremony tonight."

"Where would we go? They'll hunt us down."

"I don't care. I'd rather die free than live as his prisoner."

Your eyes snap open, tears streaming down your cheeks. "We loved each other."

"Yes."

"I died." The carriage wheels giving way, the sensation of falling, the way you hummed his song even as death claimed you.

"Yes." His voice breaks on the word. "You died trying to reach the temple, trying to escape a marriage that would have destroyed you."

"You became..." You gesture at the markings on his skin, the inhuman beauty that marks him as other.

"A demon. Yes." He lets his hand fall from your cheek. "But I never stopped loving you. Even when love became my curse."

Your blade lowers without conscious thought. "The soul harvesting—"

"I take souls, yes. But only from those who are already broken. The suicidal. The hopeless. Those standing on bridges at midnight, ready to jump." He moves back to the piano, fingers trailing across keys that sing under his touch.

"That doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't, but it makes me a vulture rather than a predator. I ease their passing and spare them the pain of a violent end." His music turns melancholy, each note a confession. "Gwi-Ma finds it... efficient. I've convinced him that desperate souls taste sweeter than terrified ones."

Understanding dawns like a cold sunrise. "You're protecting people by being selective about your targets."

"I'm doing what I can within the constraints of what I am." He looks at you over the piano. "Just like you're doing what you can within the constraints of what you've been told to be."

"I haven't been told to be anything. I chose this life."

"Did you? Or did you choose it because some part of you remembered what I became and wanted to fight against it?" His eyes hold yours steadily. "Or because some part of you remembered what it felt like to be powerless, to have no agency over your own fate?"

The question hits something deep in your chest. Your entire identity as a hunter, your dedication to protecting innocents, how much of it was genuine calling and how much was subconscious recognition of a loss you couldn't name? How much was the echo of a girl who died trying to claim her freedom?

"I don't know," you whisper.

"That's all right. Neither do I, most days." His fingers find a different, softer melody. "I've had centuries to think about it, and I still don't know if what I'm doing is mercy or just elaborate self-torture."

"Centuries of remembering what we had."

"Centuries of missing you." He meets your eyes across the moonlit space. "Every soul I take, every moment of service to Gwi-Ma, every night I spend existing instead of living, it's all been about the hope that someday, I'd find you again."

"Now that you have?"

"Now I'm terrified." His honesty cuts through you like silver through flesh. "Because you don't exactly remember me. And even if you did, why would you choose to love a monster?"

You cross the space between you in quick strides, your weapon clattering to the floor forgotten. Before he can react, your hands frame his face, thumbs tracing the demonic markings that shimmer beneath your touch.

"Because you're not a monster," you say fiercely. "You're the boy who played music under starlight for me. You're the man who loved me enough to spend eternity remembering. You're the one who chooses mercy even when it costs you."

"I kill people."

"You ease suffering. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes." You lean closer, close enough to see yourself reflected in his dark eyes. "And I'm not the same girl who died centuries ago. I'm someone who chose to fight demons, who dedicated her life to protecting innocents. But that doesn't mean I can't love one who's trying to minimize the damage he's forced to cause."

Hope flickers across his features like candlelight. "You're saying—"

"I'm saying I remember now. The way you'd hold me when thunder scared me. How you'd compose different melodies to match my moods. The promises we made." Your voice drops to a whisper. "I remember dying with your song on my lips, and I remember choosing to run towards love instead of accepting a life without it."

"You were so brave," he whispers. "Even then, knowing what it would cost you."

"I'm saying I love you. Past tense, present tense, future tense."

"I can't ask you to give up your life for me," he says as he leans his forehead against yours.

"You're not asking. I'm choosing." You pull back to meet his eyes. "We'll figure out how to make this work. Find a way to satisfy Gwi-Ma while minimizing harm. Maybe even find a way to break whatever hold he has over you."

"How are you so sure? Your friends will never understand."

"Then I'll make them understand." You press your palm against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. "I’ve been dreaming of you without knowing why for months. I'm not going to sit here and wait anymore. We'll find a way, I promise.” 

BABY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The briefing room felt suffocating even after everyone had left. You sat alone at the long table, staring at your phone screen, social media feeds filled with Saja Boys content, fan videos. Baby's face looked back at you from dozens of posts, styled and polished for the cameras, but you could see something haunted in his eyes even through the idol persona.

"The songs. Those stupid lullabies you used to sing when I had nightmares."

His words from a week ago wouldn't leave you alone. They circled in your mind like vultures, picking at something buried deep.

"You're thinking too hard."

Rumi's voice made you look up. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.

"Just researching," you said, turning your phone face down on the table.

"Bullshit." She moved into the room, closing the door behind her. "You've been distracted since your encounter with the demon. What happened out there?"

I waited for you, you know. Stupid thing to do when you're a kid.

"Nothing I can't handle."

Rumi sat across from you, her expression softening slightly. "Look, I know these cases can get personal. Sometimes demons know things about us, use our pasts against us. It's what they do."

"What if it's not manipulation?"

The question slipped out before you could stop it. Rumi's eyebrows shot up.

"What do you mean?"

You touched your phone, Baby's image still visible on the darkened screen. Those eyes that looked at you like you'd broken something precious, even through the glossy idol photos. "What if he really knew me before?"

"That's impossible. Your records show—"

"My records show I appeared five years ago with no past. No family. No history before I started training." You met her gaze. "What if there's a reason for that?"

Rumi was quiet for a long moment, before she sighed. "Even if that were true, it doesn't change what he is now and what he's done."

But as you slipped your phone into your pocket, you couldn't shake the feeling that everything you thought you knew was built on shifting ground.

You found him later in the ruins of an old factory on the outskirts of the city. The same place you'd been tracking demon activity for a week, though you realized now it wasn't random demons you'd been sensing.

It was him.

Baby sat on a rusted beam, twenty feet off the ground, watching you approach with that same careful intensity. He looked younger in the moonlight filtering through broken windows, more like the boy he claimed to remember.

"Took you long enough," he called down. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten again."

"Come down. We need to talk."

He dropped silently to the factory floor, landing in a crouch before straightening. "About what? How you're going to drag me back to your people? How they'll probably dissect me to figure out what makes demons tick?"

"About what you said. The nightmares and the songs."

Baby's expression flickered. "Having second thoughts about your convenient amnesia?"

The mockery in his voice sparked your temper. "Stop playing games. If you know something about my past, just tell me."

"Why should I make it easy for you?" He circled closer, predatory and graceful. "You certainly didn't make it easy for me."

"I don't know what that means!"

"Of course you don't." He was close enough now that you could see the hurt beneath his anger. "You died, and left me alone, and somehow you get to come back perfect and clean with no memory of what you did to me."

Flashes of images, a boy crying, small hands reaching for yours.

You stumbled backward, and Baby's eyes sharpened.

"Oh, that got through, didn't it?" He pressed forward. "Starting to remember?"

"Stop."

"Remember how you used to sneak out to meet me? How you'd bring me food because my parents were too drunk to remember I existed? How you promised you'd never leave?"

Each word was like a knife, cutting through the fog in your mind. You saw pieces flashing through your mind, sharing a sandwich on a playground bench, bandaging a scraped knee, singing softly while a smaller figure curled against your side.

"I said stop!" You drew your blade, the silver gleaming in the pale light.

Baby laughed, bitter and sharp. "There she is. Ready to cut down anything that makes you uncomfortable."

He moved faster than you could track, knocking the weapon from your hand and slamming you back against a concrete pillar. His forearm pressed against your throat, not quite cutting off air but making his point.

"You want to know what happened?" His voice was raw, all pretense dropped. "Fine. We were kids. You were the only person who gave a damn about me. And then one day you didn't come home."

Running through smoke, lungs burning, reaching for him.

"They found your body in the fire. What was left of it." His grip tightened slightly. "I waited at the playground for weeks, thinking maybe they'd made a mistake. Maybe you'd come back."

Making a choice, accepting the price, watching him run to safety.

"But you were dead. I was alone. And something found me in that grief."

You gasped, the memories hitting like a tidal wave. The factory fire. How he'd screamed your name. The whispered promises in the smoke.

 Save him, let him live, pay the price yourself.

"I remember," you whispered.

Baby went very still. "What?"

"The fire. You were trapped, and I—" Your voice broke. "I died getting you out. I chose to die so you could live."

His arm dropped from your throat like you'd burned him. He staggered backward, eyes wide and desperate.

"No. No, that's not—you left me. You abandoned me."

"I saved you." You pushed off from the pillar, reaching for him. "Whatever happened after, whatever you became, I saved you first."

"Then why don't I remember it that way?" His voice cracked. 

"Because trauma changes how we remember things. You were eight years old and terrified." You took another step closer. "Maybe forgetting was the only way you could survive."

He was crying now, tears streaming down his face as he shook his head. "I've done horrible things. I've hurt people. I'm not the kid you saved."

"You're still him." You reached up to touch his face, the way you used to when he had nightmares. "Under everything else, you're still the boy who used to fall asleep to my lullabies."

This time when he collapsed against you, it wasn't an attack. It was surrender. He wrapped his arms around you like you might disappear again, face buried in your shoulder.

"I missed you so much," he whispered. "I missed you every day."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't stay."

You held him while he cried, singing softly under your breath, the same melody you'd hummed to chase away his nightmares all those years ago. You felt his breathing slow, his grip on you loosening from desperate to simply holding on.

"What happens now?" he asked finally, voice muffled against your shoulder.

"I don't know." You pulled back to look at him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "But I'm not leaving you again."

Baby searched your face, looking for any lies beneath.

"Will your friends understand?" he asked. "You have a duty to fulfil."

"Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out." You picked up your fallen blade, but instead of pointing it at him, you let it clatter to the ground. "I'm not their weapon. I'm me. And my choice is you."

He caught your hands in his, fingers intertwining like they had when you were just children sharing secrets to one another.

"I choose you too," he whispered. "I’ll choose you again, and again, and again."

@coriihanniee 💌

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

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @kjwluvr @arieslucy @permanenceimp @arienic @heeheesang @aria-writer @truth-snake @milkyasteroids @woonhakntaesansgf @hornehlittleweeblet2 @gabile18 @yharnam-prophet @lovely-maryj