the-avengers-not-the-nazis

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [pt.3]

🎤— yan!saja boys x fem!reader x yan!male!huntrix

—synopsis: you were never meant to be a hunter. You were supposed to be a symbol— the key to the demon gate, the girl destined to seal away darkness once and for all. But, when the power inside of you refuses to obey, you chose a different path: to fight alongside the Huntrix, the only family you've ever known.

One stage, Huntrix are stars. Off stage they are slayers of demons— and fiercely protective of the girl fate calls their weapon. Ruen, Miran, and Zio... each with their own way of watching you. Each with secrets that they'll never let you uncover. And as the gates begin to stir and a new group reveals themselves to try and bring damnation to the mortal world they become just as protective as the Huntrix over you.

As the gates begin to stir and your powers awaken in dangerous, unnatural ways, you find yourself pulled into something deeper than the prophecy.

You are the key. But to what- salvation or ruin— depends on who gets to you first.

— warning: EVENTUAL SMUT, cursing, yandere tropes, blood, killing demons, Celine, Gwi-ma lowkey being better than Celine, hatred between both boy bands, longing, we'll see if I have the ability to write angst, weapons, bad flirting, good flirting, Baby being a brat

— A/n: I was debating wether or not to add the whole fight scene in the bathroom because for the story their wouldn’t really be any key plot points (except for Jinu finding out that Ruen is a demon) so I only added a snippet of the beginning. Also, if you couldn’t tell from the previous chapter, I am shit at writing fight scenes so I am saving myself the embarrassment of not writing all that.

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Soft chatter filled the bath house. Well— not soft, it was loud and involved a lot of shoving from the Saja boys whenever one would make a weird joke. But at least they weren’t as demonic. They honestly looked like a group of boys enjoying each other and not five demons holding you hostage.

You sat stiffly on a damp bench, knees pulled tight to your chest and chin resting on your caps. The Saja boys had moved around you, save for Romance still at your side and Mystery sitting at your feet, Abby was now standing in front of a nearby mirror— flexing his arms in the lighting— Baby was playing with the bath water and Jinu was slowly pacing before you.

Not in a stressed way. But in a way that showed he was thinking; already going over the next part of his plan.

Romance lounged like a lazy predator beside you, arms around your shoulders and legs crossed at the ankle. A stupid smirk playing at his lips. “A little hunter, caught all alone.” He played with the end of your hair. “Doesn’t that make you nervous, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kept your eyes forward and slowly shifted down the bench and away from the heart shaped demon.

He scooted after you.

“Stop it.”

He cocked his head, “stop what?”

“Stop hovering over me.” You shoved his arm from your shoulder and sat at the end of the bench.

“do you tell you little ‘boyfriends’ not to hover over you?” Abby asked, glancing from the mirror and back to where you sat.

You felt your ears get hot at what he had called your boys. You always hated it when at interviews or even signings when someone would ask you which of them boys you liked more. Or which of them you would rather date. “Of course I tell my boy— I tell them not to stop hovering over me all the time.”

Romance cooed, his arm finding a spot on your shoulder again. “Is that why they left you all alone today?

You opened your mouth, to tell them off or try to say that the boys didn’t want to leave you alone danced at the top of your tongue. But, someone else interrupted you before you could say anything.

“You wear their clothes, sing their stupid songs, let them dress you up and touch you.” Baby drawled from the bath waters edge. “All because of you being a key. They’re like a dog; pissing all over the place to mark their territory.”

“I’m not—“ You started, voice tight and fingers digging into your thigh.

Jinu’s voice cut across yours, low and steady. He was standing a few steps back, hands folded behind his back, watching you like you were an answer to a riddle. “They do treat you like a little pet. Keeping you locked inside and have you oing whatever it is that they wish,” he said calmly. “But you don’t belong to them the way they think you do. You belong to us. To the demons. To the prophecy.”

Your foot began to bounce. A steady thumping filling the short lived silence. “I don’t belong to them.” You told him, eyes narrowed and voice clear. “And I especially don’t belong to you. I am a person, not some fucked up being that can be passed around whenever you need something done.”

They grew quiet. Each staring at you and picking at what you had just said. A person. You were a person. Well so were they, and look who they take orders from now.

Baby rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the water. Dipping the end of your Sai in and out, as he watched the ripples. Mystery sat in silence on the floor, watching you behind heavy bangs as you’d spoke. The urge to reach forward and just touch you burning at his fingers. Abby was now leaned up against the wall, half listening to what you were truly saying, but still listening nonetheless. And Romance was staring lovingly at the side of your face. Loving every minute he got to watch you argue, pout or even ignore each of them.

And Jinu just watched. Taking in your reactions and how would possibly argue back, it was.. odd trying to decipher you. You didn’t outright flock at them or answer his questions at times, and yet they could easily fluster you with the right words or aggravate you with a touch.

And so he felt a bit lost with his task to force the key to awake inside of you. Frankly he’d never done that before, but it seems easier at the time to just say the right words and you would do what they wish.

Jinu walked towards you and leaned forward. His face mere inches from your own. “Yet.” He whispered, standing back to his full height as he hovered over you.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, and he simply smiled down at you. And before Jinu could say anything else, the heavy slam of boots against tile echoed from down the hall.

All five of them froze for a beat, then shifted smoothly into position.

Baby hopped back, grinning. Mystery melted into the shadows, silent and unreadable. Romance rose slowly to his feet, rolling his shoulders. And Abby moved in close, looping a strong arm around your waist, pinning you firmly to his side.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby whispered against your hair, his grip iron-tight. Dragging you to where the others were waiting for the guests to arrive

The bathhouse doors flew open with a thunderous crash, steam spilling into the hall as Huntrix bursted through the door. Weapons drawn, and eyes instantly narrowing on the five demons, before they moved to you.

Miran called your name, voice cut sharp in the air and anger laced with worry.

“Relax,” Abby smirked, tightening his grip on you as if to taunt them. “We were just borrowing her.”

“You call this borrowing?” Zio spat, knives raised as well as your Sai that was left behind. “Let her go.”

Romance leaned lazily against Mystery, his lips twitched in amusement. “You sound so protective. How sweet, almost makes me jealous.”

Baby laughed from beside Jinu, perched like some deranged gargoyle. “Look at how scared they are. They think we were going to— what, kill her? Or are they just too jumpy to admit that she rightfully belongs to us?”

“Shut your mouth!” Ruen snapped, fury sparking in his eyes.

Jinu finally stepped forward, calm, collected—his very presence seemed to still the other boys. His gaze slid to Miran, then to Zio, and lastly to Ruen. “We didn’t come here for you. We came for her. And I think you know why.”

Miran’s jaw tightened, “She’s not yours.”

“Not yet,” Jinu corrected smoothly. “But fate has a way of… correcting itself.” He held their eyes for a long, charged moment, then slowly raised his hand. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to play tonight.”

The air thickened, darker, heavier. Steam began to churn unnaturally as shadows bled across the tiled floor. A guttural growl echoed from the corners of the bathhouse, deep and inhuman.

You felt your stomach twist as creatures began to crawl closer to your boys. One of them stalked past you, its beady eyes meeting yours before sliding back forward.

You gripped tighter onto Abby.

Jinu’s lips curled into the faintest smile. “Let’s see how well you dance, hunters.”

And with a sharp snap of his fingers, the demons surged from the bathwater.

The bathhouse erupted into chaos. Demons poured out of the steam and shadows, bodies twisting in grotesque forms, dripping with water that hissed against the tiles.

Huntrix moved instantly.

Miran’s staff cleaved through the first creature, Zio spinning into the next with lethal precision, steel ringing as sparks and claws clashed. Ruen stayed half a step back, sword already in hand, glowing faintly as he pinned demons to the tiles one after the other.

The Saja boys didn’t join the fight. They stood back, watching almost like it was entertainment. Romance whistled low when a demon’s body split across the tiles. “Mmm. Impressive. You’ve been practicing.”

Mystery tilted his head, unblinking, his gaze flickering between the hunters and you as though memorizing every detail.

Huntrix fought like a machine, but the demons kept coming, their screeches rattling against the walls.

Abby shifted his hold on you, keeping you locked tight against his chest as you struggled. His smirk never wavered. “Funny how hard they fight when it’s about you. Makes me wonder…” He leaned down, voice low against your ear. “…how much they’d break if you were taken out of the equation.”

Jinu’s head snapped over to the two of you. “Abby—“

But Abby didn’t wait to hear what his leader had to say. In a sudden movement, he picked you up bridal style before throwing you into the bath water before him.

You hit the water hard, a splash echoing across the chamber. Your lungs stung with the sudden burn of steam and chlorine as you fought to reach the surface. But the instant you broke through, you spotted something glinting at the bottom—your Sai’s, tossed deliberately into the pool.

“Shit.” You muttered, watching as Baby grinned mischievously at you.

Cursing under your breath, you sucked in another gulp of air and dove. Your fingers stretched desperately toward the weapons, the cold water dragging at your uniform. You just barely closed your hand around the hilt when something far colder than water wrapped around your ankle.

A hand—rotted, webbed, inhuman.

And before you could react, the water demon yanked you down hard.

Bubbles ripped free from your mouth as you kicked and thrashed, the monster’s glowing eyes looming through the murk. Its claws slashed for your throat, barley nicking you before dragging you deeper into the bath’s endless black.

Ruen cut through another demon right as he saw the surface of water churn. He cursed to himself, kicking a demon out of his way before taking a step towards you. Ready to jump in and save you.

But, right as he went to do so, movement caught his eye.

It was the Saja boys. And they were currently running out of the bath house. They were escaping. They were getting away. This could have been the only chance that they would have to actually kill them, and they slipped through their fingers.

Ruen glanced back at you, then the Saja boys. He wanted, desperately, to save you. To be your hero. But he would be an even bigger hero if he killed the ones that were causing you harm.

He carved through another demon, already sprinting through the swinging doors and away from the fight scene. “Zio, Miran— get her!”

They both shouted at the purple man, trying to urge him back but he was already out of sight. Leaving the two to save you by themselves.

Below, your lungs were starting to collapse. You slashed your— now retrieved— Sai at the demon holding you under. Steel cutting aimlessly through the water and barely leaving a mark. Its grip tightened on you, its claws digging into your ankle as it reached a hand up and towards your face.

Desperation took hold. Adjusting your grip, and with all the strength you could muster, you stabbed the demon in the eye. A pained, bubbly shriek escaping its mouth as it let you go.

You kicked upwards, edge of your vision botched with black, and burst through the surface with a gasp.

Your name was shouted as you resurfaced. Miran rushing at the waters edge to drag you closer towards him. Zio was close behind, cutting at the last demons before they disappeared altogether.

Together they hauled you out, hands rested along your back as you coughed up water. “That’s it,” Miran whispered, rubbing you up and down and Zio held your hair. “You’re alright, I promise.”

“We won’t let it happened again,” Zio whispered, placing a soft kiss against your hairline as you leaned against them.

You glanced around, holding tightly onto the both of them as if you were going to sink into the tiles. You wanted to ask were Ruen was, if he was okay. If either of them were okay. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak at the moment.

So you sat with them, just breathing as they soothed you with soft words and touches.

And behind them, the bathhouse had fallen into a deathly silence—the Saja boys were gone.

The bathroom was still thick with steam, the mirror half-fogged despite the vent humming on the ceiling. You stood barefoot on the cold tile, hair damp and clinging to the back of your neck, pajamas sticking slightly to your skin. Your Sai— retrieved but now scrubbed and resting quietly on the sink— gleamed under the overhead light.

You stared at your own reflection, at the dark circles starting to form beneath your eyes and the faint bruising the surrounded your whole body. Your eyes looked older, heavier than they had before. Like something had shifted permanently inside of you.

You had taken a hot shower, hoping to burn away the feeling of those demons hitting, scratching and throwing you. To burn away how it felt when the Saja boys touching and holding you as if you were weightless.

But it didn’t help. Not really. Their presence still clung to you skin, even now.

Your fingers curled over the edge of the sink. Shifting your eyes towards the leaky faucet.

They’d taken you so easily.

The fight replayed over and over in your mind— the Saja boys rushing towards you, how you had fought and could barely lay a hit. You’d only managed to cut through a few lesser demons when they would come at you. Even then, your strikes felt clumsy.

Weak.

Meanwhile, they— Zio, Miran, and Ruen— had handled dozens with ease. Granted, they had stronger wielding weapons that could kill demons a whole lot quicker than you could, you still felt as if you didn’t try hard enough.

You were supposed to be the key. You were supposed to matter.

And all you did was get taken and cause more problems.

Your throat tightened. Reaching up, you wiped the mirror with your hand, revealing more of your reflection in the fogged bathroom.

God, you looked so… tired.

What kind of key needs saving? What kind of chosen one has to be carried like some helpless kid? What kind of hunter can barely hold their own against some stupid, fucking demons?

A flicker of heat stirred in your chest. Not anger— but shame. It curled into your ribs and made you want the tiled floor to open up and swallow you whole.

You looked down at the Sai on the sink.

You wished you had a real hunters weapon, and not something that Celine had probably found in her attic. Just so that you could feel included. You wished you were more genetically stronger like your boys, sure you’ve trained alongside them and have gained some muscle from fighting demons nearly everyday. You still weren’t strong enough to pick a grown man up like Ruen, or take a demon down with just your hands like Zio, or even puncture a heart with your weapon like Miran.

You pushed away from the sink, opened the bathroom door and made the short walk to your bed. Your Sai still left on your bathroom sink beside the drippy faucet.

Trixie, your beloved teddy bear that Zio had won for you at an arcade game, watched as you crawled into bed. Her singular button eye never leaving your face and you sluggishly dropped onto the bed. Your damp body slowly wetting the bed.

You laid there— face down on your queen sized mattress, pjs no longer warm but cold from just getting out of the shower and mind still buzzing with what had happened earlier.

You’ve never felt this way after a mission before. Sure you’ve screwed up, gotten cut with your own Sai or led the demons right where you were hiding. But you have never felt so… weak.

You were kidnapped by five, insanely attractive demons.

Your precious Sai’s were literally taken from your hands.

You were taken to a men’s bath house, of all places.

You were attacked by even more demons after the previous five threw you in the middle of them.

And you nearly drowned in fucking bath water.

You grabbed your pillow, and gently placed it over the back of your head. Trixie fell to her side now that she didn’t have anything to lean against.

You’ve never been this slacky when it came to hunting. Never this weak or outsmarted before.

You felt shameful. You felt anger towards yourself and the demon that threw you into the bathtub

You felt—

“Useless.”

You felt useless. Like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t meet the same standards that the Huntix were on.

You were pathetic, you couldn’t even hold onto your weapons. What kind of hunters gets disarmed in seconds?

You sucked in a shaky breath, rolling onto your back. Your chest felt tight, like something heavy was pressing onto your ribs.

They’d tossed you into a tub full of water like a sack of flour, a demon mere inches from where you landed. And your Sai— your precious, beautiful Sai that you’ve cherished for years— was practically useless against any of them. You would’ve drowned if you hadn’t plunged the blade into the demons eye.

“You’re dead weight.”

You are dead weight.

“You were supposed to be the key— but you can’t even hold your own against a few worthless demons.”

Supposed to be the key…

“The boys only protect you because they have to. They’ll realize you’re not worth it soon enough.”

You’re not… worth it?

You blinked up at the ceiling, hands curling into the blanket. These thoughts— they felt like yours. They sounded like yours. But they are colder, heavier. Like someone was just voicing your thoughts out loud. Making your inner voice become reality.

But it is true.

Isn’t it?

You didn’t feel any pain. No headache. No pressure. Just the low burn of self-loathing twisting tighter in your chest.

“You’re not a key. You’re a liability. All you do it screw up. They’ll leave you once they see what’s under the surface. One they see that they have no need for you any more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and rolled onto your side again, face buried on top of Trixie’s matted fur. The tears didn’t fall, but they did hold in your water line.

They wouldn’t leave you… would they?

As much as you hated how suficating they made you feel at times. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself without them.

Without Zio’s warm cuddles when you’d watch movies with him on the couch. How his fingers would find a way to slide beneath the hem of your shirt and touch your skin.

Without Miran’s piercing eyes watching your every move when you go out in public. Even if you were attached to his hip.

Or without Ruen’s soft touches and gentle words when you’d talk about how stressed you were from all the tours.

You didn’t want to be left alone. No matter how many times they would annoy you or sit outside your bedroom door when you’d change to make sure you were okay, you didn’t want to be left alone.

You didn’t want to be back in the alleyway, wondering if anyone truly cared if you would die of starvation or if anyone was actually looking for you.

You didn’t want to feel as unwanted and alone as you did all those years ago.

“I’m trying.” You said to yourself, hugging Trixie into your chest. Trying to feel the same warmth that you’d get from the boys.

It was silent.

Almost peaceful for a moment, until your own thoughts rang true in your head once again.

“Then try harder.”

The silence in your room was too loud.

You had laid there for hours, curled around Trixie, eyes open but unseeing. The voice in your head had finally quieted, but it left a hollow ache behind, like it had drained something from you.

And as far as you knew, it did. It changed how you thought about yourself and what you think the boys thought of you as well.

You kept telling yourself you were fine.

You were safe.

You were home.

But the longer you stayed in the dark, the more the silence started to hum. To whisper in your ears.

And you knew.

You couldn’t be alone tonight.

Careful to not wake the creaky floorboards beneath your feet, you slid from your bed, Trixie still hugged tightly against your chest. Ruen’s room was the closest— just to the right of your own. Your bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor, the hallway dim and still.

You stood infront of his door, fist hovering in the air too long.

And before you could change your mind you knocked.

Soft. Hesitant.

It was silent. No noise from inside the bedroom and nothing from out in the hallway. Your gripped tightened on Trixie, the stuffed animals arm nearly being smushed from how hard you were holding onto her.

Guilt and worry prickled in your stomach, your feet aching to turn around and go to back to your very quiet room.

What the hell are you doing?

Ruen is probably sleeping. And you just woke him up. And then he is going to be mad at you. And then he will probably yell at you about every bad thing you did yesterday. And then you’d—

The door opened.

Ruen stood in the door way, one hand resting in his door as the other absentmindedly scratched at his bare neck. His long, purple hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, multiple strands sticking up from having just woken up. His eyes were half lidded with sleep, but the second he saw you— tired, and yet very awake for it being three in the morning, and your eyes were slightly blood shot as if you’d been crying— his expression sharped.

He whispered your name, low and alert. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth, the small teddy being held like a life line in your hands. “Is it alright if I stay with you?” You asked, voice quiet to not wake the others.

Ruen didn’t press. Instead, he reached out, gently pulled you in by the wrist, and closed the door behind you with a soft click.

He then tugged you through his room, hands kept firmly around your arm as the other one found the small of your back. Careful as he guided you towards his bed.

And without a word he pulled the sheets and covers back as he then helped ease you into the soft mattress. The second your head made contact with the pillow he pulled the blankets back over your body, only stopping once he reached your chin.

You looked like a small, frail, sick child from the medieval times. Waiting sadly on your death bed as a worried mother dotted you. Honestly, if Ruen were to stick a thermometer in your mouth then there probably wouldn’t be a difference at all.

As you laid in bed, eyes staring heavily at the ceiling, Ruen did a quick sweep with his eyes across his room. He wasn’t messy or unkept as most men would be. Surprisingly, his desk was straightened out and any non-floor items were in their respective places.

Everything was normal and where it was meant to be, so hopefully he wouldn’t embarrass himself by finding a random pair of underwear hanging from the bedpost.

Well… everything but his nightstand.

In one fluid motion, he turned and— without you noticing— swiftly shut the drawer of his nightstand, the edge of glossy magazine pages just barely visible before clicking shut.

Inside the drawer: a stack of fan magazines. All with you on the cover.

The top one— one that he’d gone through not that long ago before he went to bed— was a high-end shoot that you had done a few months ago. Lace lingerie. A white silk robe slipping off a shoulder. Legs crossed at the ankle. A soft pout on your lips. He didn’t know if the shoot was meant to be seductive or just appealing for the brand, but God, it had wrecked him.

He’d memorized every pose, every expression, every inch of fabric that touched your skin.

He would often go through the magazines when you would be gone for super long on tours or even just to the little convenient store down the street. To him, it made it feel like you were always with him, even when you weren’t.

But now, you were here. In his room. In his bed. In real life. Wearing soft cotton pajamas, eyes red-rimmed, looking like you were about to break.

And as much as he loved you, and wanted to hold you and tell you that he would make all your problems and worries go away. All he could think about was how he couldn’t let you see that drawer.

So, before he could draw any attention to the small compartment, he quickly crawled into bed with you. Eagerly scooting close to your warm body.

“Come here.” He said quietly, a hand falling onto your waist and pulling you impossibly closer towards him.

You didn’t resist. Softly moving closer to him until you rested your forehead against his clothed chest. Like it was the only place that made sense to you right now. And he held you there, fingers lightly stroking the back of your hair.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, eyes closed as he softly breathed you in. “I promise you, no one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You sniffled, barely audible, and Ruen’s heart shattered.

God.

You were in his bed.

Every time you exhaled, he could feel it against his skin. Your body was warm, pressed so gently against his side that it was almost painful to ignore.

In his mind, he kept on replaying scenarios where you would come to his room like this again. Not as sad and alone as you looked in the hallway. But warm and happy, with nothing but love in your eyes as you followed him into his room.

He would imagine what it would be like to kiss you— properly kiss you, not a kiss to the cheek or forehead like he normally would do. A true genuine kiss. Like one’s from a kdrama, where they would kiss in the rain with you in his arms.

He pulled a bit away from you, just enough to watch you. Your eyes were closed, but it was very clear that you weren’t sleeping. Trixie was squished between you two— and he was fighting the urge to through the old thing onto the floor so that the two of you could have an actual moment together.

Kiss her. Just once. She’s right there. She came to you.

His mind kept on racing. You were right there. He could kiss the life out of you if he just turned his head and angled it properly.

But then you shifted slightly, let out a shaky breath, and he’d felt the tremble in your spine. And the urge to kiss you dissolved instantly.

You weren’t here for that.

You needed comfort, and love. Not love making. And he would give you just that. Even if it killed him to not do the latter.

Ruen rested his chin lightly atop your head, holding you a little closer. Just in case you might slip away as he slept.

But he couldn’t sleep. How could he? The love of his life was pressed, so warmly, against his body. Your soft, plush skin relaxing him way better than any expensive spa retreat ever has.

So he laid there, in the dark, total silence blanketing the spacious room as he held you.

You had fallen asleep rather quickly. Your face buried in Trixie’s worn fur, breathing even and quiet, lips slightly parted. A few strands of hair clung to your cheek, fingers clutching the teddy bear like it was the only thing anchoring you to the world.

And Ruen, he hadn’t moved in minutes. He laid beside you, head propped up against a pillow, blanket draped over his body, one arm curled protectively around your waist. His other hand rested lightly against your shoulder, fingers trailing across your skin delicately. Slipping beneath your shoulder strap when he would get the confidence to do so.

This was nice. Just you and him. No interruptions. No last minute fan meet across town. No Miran and Zio trying to barge in and steal your attention. Just you, in his arms. And nothing else bothering you.

Just you.

You.

You.

You.

You.

God, why couldn’t it always be like this?

Why couldn’t you always let him be the one to protect you, or even Miran and Zio. Then he could have more moments like this with you. Alone.

Earlier, when you had showed up at his door, it had scared him. In fact the whole day had scared him. From the Saja boys taking you, to you fighting off demons by yourself. He never stopped worrying. Never stopping thinking if that was going to be their last moment to see you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you slept and the way you touched them.

It scared him, petrified even. That his most recent moment with you could’ve been your last.

Maybe Zio was right, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you locked in your room. You would certainly be protected and wouldn’t get kidnapped by some worthless demons again. And if you ever got bored, all you had to do was pop some of the bubbles to keep you entertained.

It was a win-win situation.

Now, all he needed to do was find a large supply of bubble wrap.

Then, you began to move. Trying to reposition yourself to find another comfort spot, twisting this way and that as Ruen reluctantly loosened his grip on you.

You settled briefly with your head against his shoulder, leg hiked over his own and hand rested above the waist band of his pajama pants.

Ruen immediately stilled. His blood running cold and mind going hot.

Holy shit.

First, you had asked to sleep with him. Then, you snuggled up to him. Now, you were touching him, with not only one of your hands, but with your whole body. Willingly.

Well, not completely willingly. You were dead asleep and your touches were innocent.

But, God, he was in heaven.

The way your fingers would softly trail further up his body. Nails gently scratching at his skin. Unknowingly lifting his long sleeve top to reveal his fine tuned abs and… weird, purple marks that seemed to glow in the dark?

His eyes immediately snapped open. Panic flaring through his body as he felt the cold air hit his exposed skin.

He quickly yanked back your hand. Pulling his shirt back down to cover the odd scars that littered his skin. Your brows furrowed slightly. Body moving a little more until you settled against him for the night.

Then the room fell back into silence.

But his mind wasn’t quiet.

Not even close.

He could feel the gnawing panic climbing up his spine. The same panic he would feel when Zio or Miran would walk in on him mid change. The same panic that Celine had enforced on him since he was a little boy.

What if you would have seen it?

What if you saw the purple patterns that swirled around his body? Would you have screamed? Yelled? Pulled your Sai, from God knows where, and tried to kill him in his own bed?

Would you have called him a monster?

His throat tightened.

He didn’t know what he was anymore. Not truly. He knew he was a hunter, a friend, a beloved idol by all— but he didn’t know how human he was.

Celine had told him things, disgusting, vile things about demons. What they are, and what they always will be. And for a while, Ruen believed that he would never become those creatures of the night. Creatures that would feast on the innocent and pray to the evil. And yet, the older he grew— the bolder the marks had become— the less he believed that he was still the human he wished to be.

What if he was the things that you were meant to seal away?

His arms tightened around your body. Squishing the poor teddy bear.

He closed his eyes, breathed in your shampoo, and tried to ease the nausea bubbling in his stomach.

You didn’t deserve him. You deserved someone pure. Someone clean. Someone without secrets.

Not someone that could hurt you.

He stroked your hair gently, as if he was trying to calm you down rather than himself.

Everything’s fine. He loves you. You love him. If only he could just fall asleep and dream of the two of you holding hands, kissing, making love—

A thud sounded from the balcony.

Ruen’s body tensed immediately. His senses sharpened, the glow of his sword burned at his fingertips as his eyes darted from you to the door outside. He waited for a beat. Wondering—hoping, that it was just a bird that had knocked over a potted plant or the wind chime that you’d hung up had fallen.

Then another thud sounded.

Careful not to wake you, Ruen slipped from the bed. Reluctantly leaving your warm embrace as the feeling of the cold room hit his bare neck and hands. His sword had been drawn, the bright glow casting shadows across the dark bedroom.

He crept to the balcony door, and slowly pulled at the curtain before opening the glass door completely.

And then he froze.

Outside, there stood a tiger. A massive, blue-furred tiger with bright glowing eyes and paws bigger than his head.

His hunters instincts screamed at him to do something— to protect you. His heart kicked at his throat. Magic coiled beneath his skin, ready to strike.

But… the tiger just stood there.

Staring. It looked calm and relaxed. And almost bored? No, happy? He couldn’t tell, it had looked as if there wasn’t a single thought behind the giant creature’s eyes.

It tilted its head, tail swaying back and forth the longer they stared at the other.

Ruen didn’t move for a second, just watched as the feline blinked slowly at him. Then, very cautiously, he stepped out onto the balcony. The cold air bitting at his cheeks as he walked further out.

The tiger padded forward, meeting the man half way before hitting its head against his torso. Ruen gently patted the head of the tiger, soft fur slipping through his fingers with each pass. Seeing as the creature wasn’t an immediate threat to either you or him, Ruen wielded away his sword. The feel of the weapon tickling the edge of his fingers.

He continued to scratch the cat, purrs erupting from its throat every now and then. A soft smiled formed at his lips, the gentle sounds and feel of the feline easing the last of the worry that sat in his stomach.

Lowering his hand, Ruen went to scratch the tigers neck. But as his hand traveled further down, he felt a paper like material brush against his fingers. Resting between the cats teeth. Curious, Ruen took the item from the creatures mouth and brought it up for closer inspection.

It was a sealed envelope.

Then— without any aggression or fanfare— the tiger turned and jumped off the building like it had better places to be.

Ruen blinked. Once. Twice.

Did a tiger just deliver mail to him?

Peeling his eyes away from where the cat just was, he turned his attention back to the letter. Cautiously, he turned it over in his fingers. Unmarked. But the seal looked old— the kind of old that would be kept in a clear box in the museum.

He turned the letter back over, and delicately opened it.

He read it once. Thrice. A hundred times.

And each time Ruen read it, the more his stomach twisted in knots.

We need to talk.

Come alone.

— Jinu

Ruen sighed sharply through his nose, resisting the urge to crumble the letter and toss it off the balcony.

What the hell did he want?

Was Jinu going to ask him about his demon marks that he saw in the men’s bathhouse?

Would he and his little ‘boy band’ ambush him? Kill him in a random street, or beat him to a bloody pulp and leave him to die?

Maybe he would try and recruit him to Gwi-mas cause now that he knows that he was part demon?

Or… was this about you?

Ruen glanced back into his room, back at the bed where you continued to sleep peacefully.

You hadn’t stirred awake since he left you, but you did take up the rest on his bed now that he was gone. One leg hanging off the edge. Arms flailed against the pillows with Trixie now on the floor by herself. Lips parted with each exhale.

You looked comfortable.

Vulnerable.

He didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not when you’d finally come to him. When you’d trusted him enough to sleep beside him. To cling to him when you didn’t want to be alone. To let him protect you when you were scared and tired.

And yet, he still slipped his shoes on. Still put on his coat and still put Trixie back on the bed so that she could protect you while he was gone.

This is for the best, he kept telling himself. All he needed to do is talk to Jinu, see what he wants, if it is about you he would listen for any threat or blackmail that he will try to hold against you. If it was about him… he just needed to make sure his secret didn’t go public was all.

And then he would come back home. Back to your embrace and warmth.

Ruen crouched beside his bed, eyes trailing your face for the last time that night before he left.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered into the dark, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I promise.”

Then he left. Quiet as shadow, and quick as a mouse. With the door clicked softly shut behind him.

A/a/n: So, if you couldn’t tell, I can’t write fighting scenes that well. So I did take a while to publish this chapter just because I couldn’t figure out how to write it. But anyway I’m not sure if I added everyone, but I did try, so let me know if I missed you ;)

Tag list:

@moonjellyfishie @gremlinartstudio @creativecupcake @rorotvt2025 @perfectlywingedflower @aeirssblog @a-cozy-little-home @thestardeli @zomqiez

@ph1lo-s0ph1a @odevote118 @siasoup @miuangel @ny0000mw00m @babysajano1 @mary-jinx @bad4amficideas @123mockingjay @stxr-lilac @meowsertrix @littlepotaaatosimp

@novacrystalli @baby-bread-in @simsimstay2017 @kikloveforeveanalways @neko993 @shotos-angelic-whore @leviackermansw1fe @sunflowers4life @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @yvanill4 @novacrystalli @kardotcom @misdollface

@ironsaladwitch @jamilvipersrealwife @graciegeeeeee @m35kbl @itsberrydreemurstuff @ikykwkleeknowwww @imactuallyabouttocrashout @marshmallowgem @umeluvr @jaeyuuns

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

is the next part to key to my heart coming out soon?

Of course!! It’s coming out real soon, I’ve just been having trouble writing some scenes is all!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Your "Key to My Heart" fic is SO good!! The writing is absolutely on fire, and the concept of the reader being the key to opening or shutting the gates of hell? Chef’s kiss 🤌🏻 I love it so much 😭💘💘💘

thank you so much, this means a lot to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

hii can i be added to the “key to my heart” taglist :) ? thank you’

Of course I can! ❤️❤️❤️

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

I can't recall if I had already asked or not, but can I be added to the tag list of 'key to my heart '?

Of course you can be added!

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

can i be put on the taglist for key to my heart? i really like it so far, it's well written !!

Thank you!! And of course you can be added 🥰🥰

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

SAJA BOYS x HUNTR/X’S ASSISTANT!READER 7

Ah shit, here we go again. (peak reference tbh)

cw: implied female reader, she/her used, alcohol problems mentioned, Stockholm Syndrome developing, lots of condoms, cursing, arguments, mentions of murder, mentions of killing animals and children, the boys lowk being horrible people

Things have been going surprisingly well.

Like, unrealistically well. Your fever’s gone. That’s one miracle. You’re walking around again. Your sarcasm’s returned.

You’re loosening up.

It’s almost… nice?

They’re not making it easy, though. Abby can’t stop picking you up. Romance sings when you walk into the room. Baby gives you exactly one scowl per hour but with less venom and more confused affection. Mystery’s become a piece of furniture in your room. And Jinu keeps acting like he’s not completely smitten.

They’ve got it bad.

And it shows.

They hover. But in a way that makes you want to hit them with a throw pillow, not a restraining order. So, in all fairness, you’re not exactly angry when you wake up this morning and find three of them arguing in the kitchen over who’s the hottest.

The air smells like coffee and Abby’s banana protein pancakes, and your voice actually doesn’t crack when you ask Baby to pass the syrup. You’re… okay. Not free, not safe, but okay.

Until.

Until.

“Well, I told Rumi to fuck off first.”

The room goes silent.

Your brain stalls. You blink. “Sorry… who?”

Jinu stiffens.

“…Huh?”

“Rumi?” you repeat, slower. Colder. “As in… my Rumi?”

Abby immediately freezes. Romance swears under his breath and stares at the wall like it’ll dig him out of this. Baby is quiet, which somehow makes it worse. Mystery’s mouth is open.

Jinu opens his mouth. Closes it. Sighs. “Fuck.”

Until now—until this—you had every reason to believe the girls didn’t know where you were. That they’d given up, maybe. That your absence had gone unnoticed in the flurry of schedules and stage rehearsals and demon hunting.

But no.

They’ve been interacting with the boys. You suppose fighting.

Actively.

And no one told you.

“How long?” Your voice is flat.

They all freeze.

Jinu finally breaks. “A few weeks.”

A few. Weeks.

Romance, trying to lighten the mood like a fucking idiot, adds, “I mean technically they jumped us first, so—”

“Shut up.”

He does.

Because you’re not laughing. Not being cute. Not brushing it off like you always do when they steal your things, or open your bedroom door without knocking, or try to get you to sit on their lap while watching horror movies. This is different.

They’re laughing. Boasting about it. Jinu and Abby had the audacity to walk in here days ago, asking how you were feeling while your team was out there bleeding because of them.

You’re making them wait. Letting the silence rot between all of you. Letting them sit in it.

And they do.

The five of them—each one known for being chaos incarnate, flirtatious, cocky, lethal—are silent. Not because they’re guilty (they are), or sorry (they are not), but because they feel it now. That shift in you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jinu is the one standing closest. You can feel him inch back like his body’s trying to shrink out of frame. Like maybe if he’s less visible, the guilt’ll shrink with him. “We didn’t want to upset you.” he says, voice as steady as he can manage.

You lift your head. Look him dead in the eye. “Oh, so instead you lied.”

He opens his mouth—then closes it. Good choice.

“Was that your idea?” you ask, tone surgical. “Or was it a group effort?”

“I mean…” Abby starts, voice lighter than it should be, huge arms crossed over huge chest. “It wasn’t—technically lying.”

“So when you came back days ago, covered in bruises, and said it was ‘just rehearsals,’ that was a lie.”

Romance opens his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Romance.”

He shuts the fuck up.

“When you said you’d ‘be back in a few hours’ but didn’t come back until morning, that was a lie. When you brought me a new hoodie and said it was because you saw it and thought of me, but really it was to distract me from the blood on your knuckles, that was a lie too.”

Baby is looking at the fridge like he’s contemplating shoving his head inside it.

Abby’s chewing the inside of his cheek.

Romance looks genuinely sick for once.

Mystery just watches. Still, like he’s not trying to defend himself. Like he already knows what he did.

Romance dares to take a step forward. Maybe to hold you. Maybe to beg. But your body stiffens so instantly he backs off again. “Babe, they came in throwing blades, what were we supposed to do? Give them a kiss and a gift basket?”

You stare at him. Flat. Blank. Silent.

It’s so quiet you can hear Abby scratch the back of his neck. You don’t even look at him, but he speaks anyway, trying for gentle. “Babe… we didn’t tell you because it was—”

“Because you knew I’d lose my shit?”

No one responds.

“Because you knew I would lose my mind if I found out you were throwing punches at my team—”

“Not your team anymore.” Baby mutters.

You whip toward him, eyes narrowed. “Say that again.”

He meets your gaze. He’s leaning back in his chair, leg crossed, arms folded, cold as ever.

“You heard me.” he says. “You’re not with them. You’re here.”

“We’re not bad guys.” Abby cuts in quickly—too quickly—rising to your level, towering above you, his palms open, pleading. “Look at you—you’re not hurt, are you?”

“Emotionally?” you snap. “No, just mildly traumatized and gaslit.”

“You’re not a prisoner anymore.” Jinu finally says. “You’ve had food. Freedom to walk around. We never hurt you—”

“Except for the fucking torture, right?”

Dead silence.

Even they can’t argue that one.

“Tell me,” you say, stepping forward, “how the fuck did you expect this to go? You think if you kissed me enough I’d roll over and forget I had a life before this? You think if you played nice long enough, I’d pick you?” You pause. “Is that it? You want me to choose you?”

Romance’s eyes dart to Jinu. Then away.

You stare at them all.

Baby breaks the silence. “You’re still here.”

You glare at him. “Not by choice.”

“Still here.” he repeats, like he’s already won the argument.

“You think I won’t leave the second I can?” You want to scream. You want to sob. You want to run.

“We already told you.” Jinu says, voice lower now. “They came to us.”

You nod once. “And you fought back.”

“Of course we did.” Abby, crossing his arms. “They attacked us.”

“Oh, really?” you say. “That’s your logic?”

Romance leans on the counter. “C’mon, babe. You know how they are.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“They’re not saints.” he says. “They came at us. You think we’re just gonna sit there and—”

“YES!” Your voice snaps. No longer calm. No longer soft. “I think you should’ve sat there and let them take me back! I think you should’ve not kidnapped me in the first place, and then you wouldn’t be stuck choosing between torturing my friends and cooking me fucking breakfast!”

Baby mutters, “fuck” under his breath and looks away.

Abby groans, his tone picking up that boyish frustration. “They weren’t gonna listen! They weren’t gonna negotiate!”

“Because they don’t negotiate with kidnappers!”

“We didn’t hurt them.” Jinu tries again.

“Oh, well gold star.” you sneer, standing up. “You didn’t kill them? Wow. You must feel so fucking noble.”

Romance steps in. Too smooth. Too confident. “I think you’re being dramatic.” he says.

And he grabs your wrists.

You gasp, not because it hurts, but because he twirls you. Like a fucking dance move.

One minute, you’re fuming. The next, you’re spinning, half a step, palm on his, like this is a prom. And it’s infuriating how good he is at it.

“See?” he purrs. “Still got chemistry.”

You slap him. It lands before he’s even finished the sentence. A full, stinging crack across his cheek.

Baby actually smiled at that.

Romance licks his split lip. Tastes blood. Smiles.

“Hot.” he says quietly.

You want to scream.

“I think you’re children.” You swallow, look away, back at them. “I think you’re selfish, violent, obsessed with things you don’t understand. I think you use your trauma as a crutch and call it charm. And it’s not. It’s just… pathetic. And you’re all so used to each other,” you continue, breath trembling. “so proud of how loyal you are. How tragic. But the second I showed up, you turned into these desperate, groveling, love-sick animals who’d rather claw each other’s throats out than admit that none of you even know what love is. You’re pathetic. All of you.”

They all shift in place. Romance folds his arms across his chest and drops his gaze. Baby looks away entirely. Mystery is looking at the floor. Abby shifts, frowning, about to interrupt—but you lift a finger. He stays silent. Jinu is the only one looking at you.

“You think your trauma makes you special? That your pain gives you permission? It doesn’t. All it’s done is make you selfish. Scared little boys with sharp teeth. And you hide behind charm or sex appeal or that stupid, smug god complex—” you jab a finger at Romance, who smirks half a second before his face falls again “—because it’s easier than admitting you’re all lonely. You’re selfish. You’re cruel. You don’t even understand why I’m angry, and that’s the worst part. I think you all genuinely believe you’re doing the right thing. And I think that’s the scariest fucking part.”

None of them speak.

“I think you’re so used to taking what you want and surviving that you don’t even stop to consider the damage. That maybe the world doesn’t revolve around your trauma. That maybe you’re not the only ones who lost something.”

You glance at Jinu.

“You’re kind. But you’re spineless when it counts. You’re just a liar that makes everyone else feel better about being cruel. You’re selfish.”

Jinu looks down. His fingers twitch at his sides.

Your eyes fall to Abby next.

“You cover your obsession with jokes and muscle, but all I see is someone who’s used to getting attention and can’t stand it when it’s not handed to him.”

Abby laughs—just once. No humor. Not a sound he meant to make.

Then Romance.

“You’re not charming. You’re not sexy. You’re a lonely kid with a voice like honey and the emotional intelligence of a dead plant. You use people. You seduce people, then call it love when they don’t run away.”

His jaw ticks. But he doesn’t interrupt.

Baby stands back, arms folded.

“I don’t even know what you want. You act like you’re too cool to care but I’ve seen you. You’re a fucking wreck under that little attitude. Maybe stop pretending.”

Nothing. Not a blink.

“And Mystery,” you say, turning slightly to look at him at least. “I don’t care how sweet you are to me. If you really cared, you’d help me leave.”

You take one step back toward the hall. Then another.

“I just want to go home.”

Romance—fucking Romance—mutters, too softly, too desperate: “…Babe?”

But you don’t look back. You don’t answer. You just wave him off like a mosquito. You disappear down the hall and slam your door shut.

They stand in the kitchen like kicked dogs.

Baby runs a hand down his face. Jinu leans on the counter, hands bracing himself like he might throw up. Abby’s arms fall to his sides, broad shoulders slumping like someone deflated him. Mystery, true to himself, doesn’t do much.

Romance exhales, loud and shaken. “…Well. That went amazing.”

And then Abby mutters, completely deadpan and casual, “You got a boner.”

Romance doesn’t even look at him. “I know, bro.” (AN: imagine his face like :c)

“From the slap?”

Romance shrugs. “From the whole thing. I dunno. She was really mean. That’s kinda my thing.”

The silence that follows is… horrible.

“…she’s right.” Mystery mutters.

Romance rubbing his jaw where your hand landed. Abby chewing his thumb knuckle. Jinu still frozen, calculating every mistake. Baby with his head tilted back.

So yeah.

It was going well.

You’d laughed with them. You’d eaten at the table instead of the floor. You’d let Abby put his hands all over you. You’d let Romance kiss your cheek, let Jinu tuck you in, let Mystery sit at the foot of your bed. Baby had even tolerated you breathing the same air as him without an eye-roll.

It was progress. Weird progress.

You were softening.

And so were they.

But this? This moment? This was inevitable. The guilt. The resentment. The slow, creeping rot beneath the bandage. You were never going to just be okay with it. Not forever. Not really. It was always going to slip. One of them was always going to say something they shouldn’t. And you were always going to reach your limit.

And now here it is.

Later that night, they’ve all scattered. Romance is lying on the floor of the living room with his hands on his face like he just got dumped. Abby sits in one of the chairs, arm over his eyes, breathing deep, Mystery next to him because he likes company. Baby’s sprawled upside-down on the couch like gravity doesn’t apply to him, throwing a stress ball at the ceiling and catching it over and over again. He looks bored. He’s not. His stomach’s been in knots for hours. Jinu’s in his room, laptop closed for once.

They’re not talking.

Because what’s there to say?

You’re right. You’re so right. And they all know it.

But knowing it doesn’t mean they’ll do anything about it.

Because they’re still—god, they’re still so fucking selfish.

They could do something, too. That’s the fucked up part.

Jinu could open your door, fall to his knees, and tell you that he’s sorry. That he knows he ruined you a little. That he doesn’t even deserve to say your name, let alone be gentle to you like he’s been doing.

Abby could throw you over his shoulder and take you to the edge of the city and ask, not demand, ask you—do you want to go? And let you go if you said yes. Even if it would break him in half.

Romance could look you in the eye and say I love you. Not in the smirking, purring way he’s used since the beginning, but in the kind of way that hurts. The kind that’s too vulnerable. Too real. He could say it. He could give up the act.

Baby could—fuck, he could apologize. That alone would do damage.

Mystery could sneak into your room and just sit with you, like before, and you’d probably forgive him more than anyone.

But none of them do.

They do nothing.

Because doing something would mean doing the right thing.

And they are so, so far from ready to stop being selfish.

Because even now, even after all that… they still want to keep you.

They could do something about this. They could unlock your door and say the thing that matters. They could fall on their knees, tell you everything you deserve to hear. Tell you they’re sorry. That they’ll let you go.

They could.

They won’t.

Because even now, the thought of you walking out that door guts them more than your hatred ever could. Even knowing they’re the reason, they still want to keep you here. Keep you angry. Keep you close.

They’ll lie to themselves about it in a hundred ways. Tell themselves it’s for your safety. For love. That the world’s worse than them. But deep down, all five of them know, they’re still bad people. They could knock on your door, say sorry, say please, throw themselves at your feet, weep into your lap, tell you that they’ll never touch the girls again, never lay a finger on anything sacred to you. Romance could kneel. Jinu could kiss you all over. Baby could beg, he’s done it before. Abby could hand you his whole spine. Mystery would lie at the foot of your bed and growl at anyone who came near.

They could do all of that.

But they don’t.

They’ve all done things.

Horrific, catastrophic things.

Jinu is horrible. He’s betrayed people. Chosen wrong. Killed for convenience. Selfish. So so so selfish. Abby used to enjoy it. The fight. The torture. He was the one they’d send in when subtlety failed. There are people whose last word was his name. And not screamed lovingly. Romance has laughed during murder. Whispered to people while choking the life out of them. He thinks affection makes up for his sins, but all it does is soften the guilt enough that he keeps doing the same thing. Mystery’s killed children. That’s not metaphor. That’s not subtext. It’s the kind of thing he doesn’t speak about, because if he did, none of them could ever look at him the same. Baby might be the worst of them all. Because Baby liked watching. He liked watching Gwi-Ma do his damage. He stood still through most of it, eyes wide and curious, taking notes. It took you for him to start feeling things again.

So no. They weren’t ever good. And they won’t be.

It was going so well. But they are the villains of this story. And the five of them? They know it. They just… don’t care enough to stop.

Jinu knows he should set you free. Let you walk. Tell you everything you deserve to hear, all of it, raw and bleeding.

But he won’t.

Because he wants to be forgiven without changing.

And that makes him worse than all the rest.

Abby? He’s lying face-down on the living room rug now, shirt off, arms out like he’s been slain in battle.

He just can’t bring himself to be a better man.

Not when he already knows how to be a monster so well.

They took you. And instead of giving you back, they held tighter. They justified it a hundred different ways.

“She’s safer here.”

“She’ll understand later.”

“We’re not that bad.”

Bullshit.

He knows exactly who they are.

He’s ripped creatures in half and smiled through it. Done things with his bare hands that would make your stomach turn. And if you really knew him, the real Abby, the one who isn’t grinning and picking you up and ruffling your hair, you’d never touch him again. Never let him touch you again.

And still, he wouldn’t take any of it back.

Romance still has his cheek red. Lip split. Half-hard in his sweatpants because his body doesn’t know how to separate humiliation from desire anymore. You slapped him, and all it did was make his chest burn hotter.

Then he thinks about the first time he saw you cry, tied to a chair, trembling while Baby pressed cold steel to your neck.

His stomach turns.

He’s disgusting. He knows that.

He wants you to want him so badly he’s willing to bend the world around you until you have to stay.

You hit him.

You really hit him.

He smiles a little. Then drops it.

He wants you so fucking badly it makes his bones hurt. And he knows, knows, that he could walk into your room right now, fall to his knees, and beg.

And you’d hate him more.

Because Romance? Romance never stopped being a whore for pain. His own. Yours. Anyone’s.

He’s disgusting.

And he doesn’t stop being disgusting. That’s the problem. He likes how fucked up he is.

Baby is a ghost in his own life. He remembers choosing to kill someone because he didn’t like the way they looked at him. He’s not sorry. Not really. But he’s sad. And that’s a different kind of damnation.

You make his chest hurt. You make his hands twitch. He wants to hold your wrist. Just your wrist. Feel your pulse. Remember you’re real.

But then he thinks about what you’d say if you knew who he really was. If you knew how many people he’s reduced to ash and didn’t blink.

You wouldn’t even let him touch your sleeve.

So he won’t try. If he doesn’t care, it can’t hurt. Right?

He wants you too, of course. Of fucking course. But he’d rather implode in silence than admit it. He’d rather cut out his own tongue than beg. That’s how Baby works.

He’s the most dangerous one. Because you’ll never know how far down he’s buried the truth.

Mystery lies curled into Abby’s side, face buried in a black pillow.

He remembers begging. He remembers whimpering in a voice too small for someone like him. He remembers clawing at a cell wall until his nails came off.

You make him feel safe.

But also weak.

They could change. Let you go. Apologize. Mean it. But they won’t. Because they’re still demons. Still bad. Still selfish. Still fucked up beyond repair.

So yes.

They could fix this.

But they won’t.

Don’t even mind this shit time skip to the middle of the night. You didn’t want to come out of your room. Really, you didn’t. But your stomach? A traitor. So here you are, barefoot and furious in the oversized hoodie someone (probably Jinu) gave you, holding a wooden spoon like a weapon, stirring with passive aggressive grace.

Footsteps.

He’s standing there. You can feel him. And you know it’s him. Jinu.

You catch the glow of faint lavender patterning beneath the collar of his sleep shirt. Pulsing against the skin of his neck, running like divine ink down his collarbones and disappearing under cotton.

The bastard is glowing.

Eye contact.

You grip the spoon tighter.

“…accident.” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t respond. Just keep stirring the sauce. Still angry. Still hungry.

“Can I help with someth—”

WHACK.

You slap on his hand with the wooden spoon. He pauses. Laughs under his breath. “Right. Fair.”

He inches closer again.

WHACK.

This time, the spoon hits the back of his arm. Harder. Sharper. Still not even your best.

Jinu winces, grinning now. “You’ve got good aim.”

You go for his back again, and he takes it like a champ. You’re honestly giving it your all now. Not holding back. You shouldn’t.

You’re mad. You’re so mad you could scream, but you won’t. Because screaming means you still care. And right now? The only satisfaction you’re going to get is from beating this man with a fucking utensil.

You go for his arm. Then his chest. Then his back, chasing him in a slow circle around the island. You don’t say a word. You don’t have to. The wooden spoon speaks.

And the most infuriating part? He lets you.

Jinu laughs under his breath—quiet, chesty. Like it’s a relief to be punished. Like this, all of this, is sweeter than any kiss you could’ve given.

He takes another hit. And another. You go for his chest this time. He lets you. You’d probably keep going, if he didn’t lean forward with a casual, devastating smile and murmur, “Those are really cute panties.”

Your hand freezes mid-swing.

You blink.

“Hey, hey, compliment! I was being polite!” he says, laughing, even as you swing again—and this time he catches your wrist. His grip is gentle. Not stopping you out of strength, though you both know he could. But stopping you like he’s catching falling leaves.

“I deserved all of that.” he says, eyes flicking over your face.

You rip your hand back, step away, turn your back to him. Stir the sauce harder. More chili oil. Fuck it. Let it burn.

“I hate you.” you mutter.

“I know.” he says.

You throw a noodle at him. It sticks to his chest. The glowing lines pulse softly.

He peels it off like it’s gold.

Even when you’re pissed—especially when you’re pissed—you still look so goddamn perfect.

And he’d let you kill him. Spoon and all.

If it meant he could stay near you just a little longer.

And yeah, okay, maybe your underwear does have tiny strawberries on it and a stupid little bow and fuck you were just trying to be comfortable—

You swing the spoon again.

He lets you hit his chest. Twice. And starts laughing.

He watches you ladle soup into a bowl. Doesn’t touch anything, just stays standing there, unreasonably tall. He’s too nice, and it pisses you off.

“I know what you’re doing.” you mutter finally.

He raises a brow. “And what’s that?”

“Trying to be the nice one. Good cop. Gentleman. Makes you feel better about keeping me here, right?”

“No.” he says quietly. “It doesn’t.”

You shove the pot back on the stove with a little more force than necessary. You don’t spare him another glance.

You’re already halfway out the kitchen before he moves.

“Wait—hey. Can we just… can we talk?” he tries.

You keep walking.

“Come on, just—talk to me.” he tries again. “Y/N. Please.”

You keep walking.

“Wait—fuck, just—can you stop for a second?”

You don’t. But you slow. That’s all he gets.

Jinu jogs a few steps to catch up, barefoot on the cold wood floors. He steps in front of you, blocking the hallway, still glowing faintly violet in the low light, his demon marks curling up his throat.

“I know you’re pissed—”

“Understatement of the year.”

He winces. “Okay. You’re furious. Look, yeah. I fucked up. We fucked up. But it’s complicated—”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away. “do not hit me with the ‘it’s complicated’ speech—”

“—You were a threat to us when this started—”

“Nice.”

“—But now you’re not.”

“Oh, so I’m just a cute little hostage now, got it.”

He groans, exasperated, like he’s the one who’s suffering. “You’re twisting everything I say.”

“You’re saying stupid things.”

“And you’re acting like we’re the enemy.”

“You are.”

“Look, I didn’t lie, exactly—”

You raise your brows.

“I didn’t lie.” he insists, though he did. They made up lies after lies when coming home. Technically he’s also lying now. “We just didn’t tell you. It’s… it’s different. You’re important. And we didn’t know what the girls would do if they thought we had you. And yeah—okay—they do know now. But we’ve been handling it.”

You just stare at him.

He tries again. “We didn’t want you to panic—”

“Oh, so I’m stupid now.”

“No!” he blurts out, way too fast. “No, no no no, that’s not what I meant, I meant—fuck—you’re not stupid—you’re terrifying when you’re mad actually—”

You roll your eyes, stepping past him.

He follows. “And okay! Yes! We’ve been fighting the girls. But only when we had to, alright? They’ve been coming for us.” Jinu, baby, your mission is to kill them.

You stop. Turn slowly. Your expression is brutal. Beautiful.

“I didn’t kill them.” he says, voice lower now. Softer. “Not any of them. I could’ve. I didn’t. None of us did. Not even Mystery, and that’s saying something.”

“You kept me here.” you murmur.

He swallows. “I know.”

“You knew they knew where I was.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t let them come for me.”

“I didn’t let anything happen. I protected you. I’ve protected you every night. Do you know how many times I’ve kept Abby from opening that front door with a fucking rocket launcher?!”

You scoff. Turn again. Keep walking.

“I made mistakes.” he says to your back, following you, earnest in that awful, boyish way, like honesty could be an apology if he says it with enough pout. “But I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“No.” you say without turning. “You did it because you don’t give a fuck about them.”

He doesn’t deny it. Because it’s true. He doesn’t give a fuck about the HUNTR/X girls. Doesn’t give a fuck about your old life, your found family, the blood and blades.

He only gives a fuck about you.

“I don’t want to be here.”

“I know.”

“I hate what you’ve done.”

“I know.”

You wait. For him to walk away. For him to give up. For him to say something that’ll prove he’s as evil as you tell yourself he is. But Jinu doesn’t.

You don’t look back when you leave Jinu in the hallway. You don’t slam your door, too dramatic. Too loud. No, you close it slow. Quiet.

And you are pissed. God, you are so fucking pissed. You’re pissed at them. At the lies. At the way you’re starting to forget what freedom felt like. At how you’ve somehow become a thing to be kept, not a person to be trusted.

And now, lying across the entire width of your oversized, silky bed…

…is your baby.

Well. Jinu’s baby. But what’s his is yours now.

Derpy lifts his head immediately. The size of a damn refrigerator.

“Hi, my beautiful boy.” you croon, already climbing into the bed to scratch behind his ears. He lets out a guttural mrrowwwl that shakes the bedframe.

“My handsome, handsome man.” you whisper as you press your face into his thick neck fur. “The love of my life. There’s my beautiful, perfect man.”

The moment you sit on the bed, he’s there, head butting into your shoulder, curling his huge body around yours like a fortress. You lean into him with a soft, exhausted sigh.

“There we go.” you coo, brushing your fingers through his mane. “My sweet boy. My pretty baby. Love of my fucking life.”

He rumbles, a sound between a purr and a growl, low and content, as you press a kiss to the side of his face and nuzzle into the fur at his neck.

“Best man I’ve ever known.” you murmur.

Another rumble. He flops onto his side, spine against your thighs, a big warm weight that makes everything else disappear. You curl around him, fingers sifting through thick fur, your voice soft and petty and dripping with sugar.

“You’re the only man I’ll ever love. My love. My beautiful baby boy.”

You fucking love this thing.

“You’re the best boy.” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “The best boy in the whole world. They’re all bitches. You’re my real soulmate.”

Another tail thump. He noses into your shoulder, exhaling warm air. You swear this fucking thing knows everything. Feels everything.

You press a kiss to his face, fingers threading into the thick fur at his neck.

“Sweet dreams, baby boy.”

All this while Romance is lying on his bed, arms folded behind his head, one leg propped up.

When your voice hits his ears, his breath catches. He can hear you, super senses, obv.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just lies there, staring up, jaw tight.

The love of my life.

He almost laughs. Almost. But it’s not funny.

Baby is in his chair. Not bed. Feet tucked under him. A tray of untouched snacks next to him.

My love. My beautiful baby boy.

He’s going to kill himself in three two one GO!!

Abby is half asleep in bed, hugging Jinu’s bird to his chest like a therapy pillow. The bird does NOT want to be there but Abby’s warm so whatever. It’s fine.

Best man I’ve ever known.

He pulls the blanket over his face. Just for a second. To hide the way his mouth twists. Then tugs it back down because he doesn’t want poor Sussie to fucking die there.

Mystery sits on his bed. Shirtless, but not for the attention. Just because he runs hot and has no sense of shame. And because he’s a boy and boys can do that and I’m so jealous. He has his legs drawn up. Knees to his chest.

You’re the best boy—a little smooch sound as you kiss Derpy—The best boy in the whole world.

He just listens.

He doesn’t know how to compete with a damn cat. But he would kill for you to talk to him like that. To kiss him the way you kiss that fur.

Jinu went back to his room. He hears you talk to his cat like it’s your firstborn, kiss it like it’s your reason to keep going. Hear the love in your voice, the softness that used to be for people, before they twisted it out of you.

He hears it.

And it fucks him uuuuup.

He smiles. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes closing, breath catching.

Lucky bastard of a cat.

Gwi-Ma licks at their minds. Lays between the folds of memory. He whispers. He watches. And when the silence gets too quiet, he shows them things.

And his boys?

His precious little murder sons?

He never leaves them alone.

They’re vulnerable.

Which makes this so much more fun.

Half an hour later, Jinu’s in the shower, water scalding. Hands pressed against the tile, head bowed, steam billowing like it could burn the guilt off his skin if he just stands still long enough. That’s when he hears Gwi-Ma’s voice,

“You did this.”

Jinu freezes.

“You could’ve told her. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you liked it. You liked having something she didn’t. Liked having her trapped.”

His jaw tightens. He breathes deep. Tries to shake it off.

“You’re just like them. Worse, maybe. They want her. You keep her.”

His breath stutters. A drip of water slithers down his spine.

“She hates you. You know that, don’t you?”

Jinu sighs. Rolls his eyes.

“You make a very pretty mistake, Jinu.”

Next is Romance. His room is dim. Red lights. Velvet curtains. Mirrors. Too much cologne in the air, like he’s hiding in it.

He’s sprawled on his bed, one arm over his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“She doesn’t want you. She never did. She thinks you’re pathetic. Clingy. Disgusting. You talk too much. No one laughs because you’re funny. They laugh because they know you’re afraid.”

Romance exhales.

“Afraid of what you are without a joke. Afraid she’ll see the rot underneath that pretty mouth.”

Then, the image of a woman with her neck twisted, body limp. Romance did that. Back, way back, years ago.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

He puts a hand over his eyes, but the image stays. Carved into the backs of his lids.

“Tell her that story next time she calls you unbearable.”

Then Baby. His room is chaos. He’s awake. Always awake. He has to be. Because when he sleeps, Gwi-Ma waits. But even when he’s awake, sometimes—

“Tick, tick, tick. You’re wasting time.”

Baby stops on his phone.

“She’ll never forgive you.“

Bro?? Shut up, dude.

“Why do you think they call you Baby? Because they’re waiting for you to grow up and disappear.”

Abby is chewing on his cheek in his room, but doesn’t cry. Didn’t even cry when his brother died. Didn’t cry when he watched his soul get swallowed.

But tonight? Tonight Gwi-Ma brings back the screams. And the worst part? He liked it. He remembers the rush. The high. The way the sound made him feel like a god.

“She’ll never forgive that.” the demon hums. “Not even if you lie. Not even if you bleed. She’ll know what you did.”

Abby runs a hand through his hair.

“She thinks you’re stupid. Big, pretty idiot. All abs and no spine. She laughs at you, you know.”

Mystery is picking the nail polish off his nails, the picture of rivers of blood in his head. The girl who tried to kiss him once, dead before she hit the ground. The small dog that barked at him for too long, snapped. The countless limbs he’s torn off things no one ever named.

And then, your voice.

“Monster.”

“Rabid.”

“I could never love you.”

Yeaaaaah, Gwi-Ma’s not a nice guy. But he likes you.

You’re a pretty little human, in his head. Fair, is the word he uses, but not in the justice sense. You’re kind. Smart. Funny. The dream human really. You amuse him endlessly.

Not that he’s met you yet. No. That would ruin the game. That would tip the balance. Not until the boys are dangling off the edge. Raw. Exposed. Not until they’ve given everything for you and you’ve spit it back into their hands.

And you’re funny.

Yes, he laughs. Demon overlords laugh, didn’t you know?

And right now, as he watches Mystery walking toward your door? He laughs and listens.

Mystery stares at the door for a long time. He’s one of the only ones who knocks. Only Jinu and Mystery ever knock. The rest barge in.

But not him.

No.

Mystery always knocks.

From inside, your voice cuts through the wood. Muffled. Cold. “Go away.”

He doesn’t. He opens the door instead. Slowly. Steps in.

“I said go away.”

He stands in the doorway. Stares at the floor.

“I won’t ask again.” you add.

He lifts his head. “Okay.”

But he still doesn’t leave. He steps in. Quiet. He stands near the dresser, not quite in your space, but not giving you peace either.

Silence.

You finally look at him. Tired. Angry. But not as angry. Because it’s Mystery. And he doesn’t lie to you. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t charm. He just is.

“What do you want?” you ask, voice rough with sleep and disdain.

He shrugs.

“You’re not sleeping in here.” you say flatly.

“I’ll stay on the floor.”

“You won’t.”

Another pause.

“I like it here.”

You blink. “What?”

He’s still not looking at you. Just the floor.

“…Then go lay down. On the floor.”

His chest lifts. A single breath. No joy. Just relief. He moves silent. Takes the blanket you keep folded near the chair. Lays out beside the bed. Not touching. Not close.

You roll onto your side, facing away. But your voice, soft, comes a moment later: “You’re still a bastard.”

“I know.”

“…But thank you for knocking.”

He doesn’t reply. Silence, completely.

Then, you ask, “What’s up with you?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking to him. “Nothing.”

You sigh.

God, he’s… sweet.

Not nice in the polished, obvious way Jinu is. Not in the performative, “look at me being tender” way Romance pretends. Mystery’s kindness is raw. No other word can describe it.

You hate that Mystery, the one who bites people, the one who fights like he wants to break his own ribs doing it, the one who doesn’t speak unless it’s to warn or protect or curse, is the one you feel safest with. You hate that you’re curling into your sheets right now and not kicking him out. You hate that you just handed him a spare pillow without thinking. You hate that you’re starting to feel… Comfortable.

Your voice is small, muffled in fur. “You’re weird.”

His lips twitch. Almost a smile. “You’re warm.” he says softly. A beat. Then, “Good smell.”

You snort. “That’s not flirting, Mystery.”

“Wasn’t trying.”

You shift, curling on your side.

Then silence. Like, twenty minutes of rock hard silence. You’re not falling asleep, for some reason, so you speak again

“…You asleep?”

You ask it like a joke. Dry. Barely a whisper.

Mystery doesn’t turn his head, but you hear the faintest hum in response. He breathes in. The sound shaky. Like he’s trying to hold a thought together. “…You hate me?”

It’s so quiet. Not pitiful. Not self-loathing. Just curious. Bare and open and fucking gutting.

“No.” you say finally, and your voice is softer than it should be. “I don’t hate you. But I’m angry. And I’m still not okay.”

He nods.

You’re angry. You’re hurt. You’re homesick in a way that’s too heavy to name, and the fact that the only person in this entire fuck who makes you feel slightly okay is the quietest, most unsettling one of the bunch? That makes you madder than anything else.

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” you mutter into the pillow.

No response.

“Even if you’re nice.” you add, voice muffled.

Still nothing.

You wait a few beats. Almost long enough to fall asleep. Then: “You’re still annoying.”

A pause.

Then the softest breath of sound. Almost like a laugh. Almost. But not enough for you to call it one and get mad about it. He’s smart like that.

You kick your foot once under the blankets, just to release the heat building in your chest. Derpy beside you stretches, tail flicking against your leg like a shhh.

You glance down at him. You whisper to Derpy because he’s safe and he doesn’t ask anything of you. “Don’t let him crawl into bed. If he does, maul him.”

A deep, satisfied huff answers you.

You smile into your pillow. Just a little. You fall asleep fast after that.

Now, a few hours later, it’s 5:43 AM. Everyone’s asleep. You should be, too. But no. Your refrigerator-sized tiger had a nightmare (you think—he thumped his tail hard enough to knock over a lamp), and now you’re awake. Fully. Aggravatingly. Unforgivably awake.

So you do what any hostage on the edge of a psychological breakdown would do.

You go to make tea.

You stepped over Mystery. Now you tiptoe into the kitchen. Early. Quiet.

The sun hasn’t even fully risen.

Perfect.

You want five minutes. Just five fucking minutes to be a human person and sip tea in silence.

“Baby. Love of my life!”

Romance.

You turn around. “…You have toothpaste on your neck.”

He swipes at it immediately. “No, I don’t—wait, seriously?”

You don’t respond. Maybe if you don’t make eye contact, he’ll vanish.

That’s when Abby walks in. Shirtless. Of course. Dripping sweat. Probably from working out at four in the morning like a psychopath. He’s holding a protein shake the size of your head and doing that thing where he flexes accidentally-on-purpose every time he reaches for something.

Romance slaps his bicep. “Daaaamn, buddy.”

“Can’t help it.” Abby says, flashing a grin.

You turn around. Instantly regret it.

Because now Baby is leaning in the doorway. Hoodie up. Mismatched socks. Holding a banana like it personally offended him. Eyes rimmed red like he hasn’t slept.

He looks at you.

Rolls his eyes.

Takes a bite.

You narrow your eyes. “Did I do something to you in a past life?”

He shrugs, chewing.

Romance sighs. “God, the tension in here is delicious. Can we get some music going?”

“Absolutely not.” you say.

“That’s not a no.” Romance says.

You turn your back to them again.

Romance rests his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. “So… how’d you sleep, sweetheart? Alone?”

You pause. Turn slowly. Level him with a look. Then: “No. I slept with something feral, dangerous, probably cursed.”

“Ohoho?” he perks up.

“Yeah.” you lick your spoon. “Your mom.”

But he’s already sidling up behind you like he’s going to wrap his arms around your waist. You hold up a butter knife. He backs up, hands raised. “Respectfully. Respectfully.”

You flip him off without looking.

Baby snorts. You glance over.

He’s flipping you off too.

You squint. “You’re just a hater.”

He shrugs like obviously.

Abby takes a swig of his shake and flexes again. This time, harder.

Romance slaps his bicep again. “Ooooh! Man! What the hell are you made of? You been growing?”

Abby flexes harder. “I mean, a little.“

Romance sidles closer again, brushing your elbow.

“Still mad at us, bunny?” he murmurs, eyes too soft.

You don’t answer. Because yes. You’re mad. Still. Infinitely. Rage. You haven’t forgotten the lies, the fighting, the kidnapping, the part where your only real joy right now is a bird and a giant magical tiger who doesn’t talk or flirt or flex near tea kettles.

You don’t answer him. Just sip your tea.

Romance watches you do it. “Do you want sugar, baby?”

“No.”

Romance puts his chin in his hand, grin lazy. “Soooooo. Hypothetically. If you had to choose between the charming bad boy with incredible bone structure—” points at himself “—or the athletic, dependable golden retriever type—” thumbs at Abby “—who’s your bias, baby?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Okay, damn. Which answer is that?”

“That’s a what the fuck are you doing here and how did you get past auditions.” you say calmly, sipping your tea.

Romance is snorting. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”

You shrug. “Figure it out, Fifth Harmony.”

Abby throws his hands up. “That’s not even the same—”

Without a word, Baby walks straight past you. Goes to the corner cabinet, the one that absolutely does not contain cereal. And opens it.

He pulls out a bottle.

Not some cutesy fruit liquor. Not a fun little mimosa situation. No. A full, dark, evil-looking bottle that probably tastes like ass but like… good ass. Could be whiskey. Could be some magic. Knowing Baby? It’s probably both.

He unscrews the cap with one hand.

Takes a long drink.

Doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t breathe.

You blink.

He keeps going.

You stare harder. Bro just chugs. Not even a flinch. Not even a wince.

Insane.

You just sit there, quietly drinking your little tea, watching as Baby shrugs, takes another sip, and slides the bottle toward the middle of the counter without even looking at either of them.

Romance raises his brows, then grabs the bottle. “Shit, if we’re drinking, we’re drinking.”

He takes a sip.

Makes a face.

“Okay, yeah, fuck me.”

Abby catches it next, sniffing the top. “This is either gonna ruin my morning or make me invincible.”

Romance is making a face. “That’s the spirit, biceps.”

Abby drinks. Immediately coughs. Puts up his arm to wipe his mouth, pretending he’s not dying.

“You good?” you ask dryly.

He slams the bottle down. “Absolutely.”

Romance grins and slaps him on the back. “You took that like a little bitch.”

Abby coughs into his arm. “It’s burning my lungs.”

“Your lungs are soft now.”

“Your mom’s soft.”

“Oh, we’re doing moms again? What are we, twelve?”

“Yeah, and I fucked yours.”

They pass the bottle back and forth, each pulling faces worse than the last. Meanwhile, Baby’s just sitting, drinking slowly, like this is nothing new.

You’re quiet, but you watch him.

Romance is back in his chair, kicks his feet up, lifts the bottle and grins over at you. “Want a sip? Might make us more tolerable.”

You take a long, long look at him. Then at Abby. Then at Baby. And snort. “Not even if you poured it over pancakes.”

The bottle is almost empty and Baby still looks like he’s prepping for his kindergarten class photo. Lips pink. Angelic face, really,

Aaaaand yeah, he probably has an alcohol problem. And yeah, it’s probably from whatever the hell he’s not talking about. And yeah, none of you are gonna fix it over fucking breakfast.

Abby grins. Then turns to you, flexing his arm. “Feel this.”

You stare at him.

He flexes again.

“Go on.” he says, patting his own bicep.

You sigh, reach over, and squeeze his bicep with the same energy as checking if bread is stale.

“Holy shit.” you mutter, so so so sarcastic.

Abby grins. “Knew it.”

Romance takes the bottle again, throws his arm around your shoulder like he belongs there. “You wanna feel mine?”

“I’d rather eat glass.”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” he purrs, grabbing your hand and placing it on his ass.

You yank your hand back instantly. You glance over at Baby. He glances back.

“…What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” you say.

Romance hands him the bottle again with a “you good?”

Baby shrugs, downs another mouthful.

Abby winces. “That much this early?”

Baby: “Fuck off.”

Romance fans himself. “Honestly? A little turned on.”

Abby’s still flexing. This time, both arms. You’re not sure if he even realizes anymore. Romance is poking him now, laughing.

They’re yelling, laughing, throwing insults and flexing in between. A sock hits the wall at one point. You think it was Baby’s. No one reacts.

Romance is giggling with his entire chest, smacking Abby’s ass. “Yessss, KING! I want to see that form, baby!”

Abby grunts. “You’re gonna see these fists if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Abby grabs Baby by the ankle. Baby doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even blink. Then Abby hauls him up, over his shoulder, fireman-style, with zero effort. Baby has his arms folded, expression blank, while Abby mutters “one… two… fuck yeah, three—” under his breath and Romance counts reps while drinking straight from the bottle.

You raise your brows.

Jinu enters, wrapped in a robe, hair a mess, expression done. “Why are you all screaming at six in the morning?”

“Jinuuuu.” Romance sings. “Good morning, handsome. You’re glowing.”

Jinu ignores him.

Abby perks up too, still holding Baby. “Yo, man. Looking good.”

Romance wiggles his brows. “You come here to scold us or spank us, daddy?”

Jinu closes his eyes. Inhales slowly. His hair is sticking up in the back. His voice is sleepy and hoarse. His robe is gaping slightly at the chest.

Which is, unfortunately, noticeable.

Then his eyes shift. To you. To the bottle on the counter.

He’s already at your side. Hand on your arm. Soothing. Caressing.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, so soft you nearly laugh. “Did they make you drink? Did they pressure you?”

Romance holds up both hands. “Hey hey hey—she didn’t touch the bottle! I offered!”

Jinu gently covers your ears like you’re five years old.

“Baby.” Jinu hisses, “Put the bottle down.”

Baby takes a long sip, staring at him dead in the eyes.

Jinu’s jaw clenches. His hand never leaves your arm. “Why is it always you three when shit starts? Do you know what happened the last time she had alcohol?!”

“She spit in your mouth.” Abby says.

“She SPIT IN MY MOUTH.”

Romance nods. “That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.”

They do not understand humans.

At all.

You’ve figured it out by now.

They think you’re fragile. Breakable. Like one wrong step and your heart will just stop working. One sneeze, one too-strong hug, one bad slice of bread and you’ll be dead. Gone.

“Did you drink any?” Jinu asks, fingers brushing over your arm, eyes scanning you.

“I’m fine.” you murmur, already irritated.

Romance pipes up, already mid-laugh. “We shared it—”

Jinu cuts him off with a look that could kill a man in the womb. Then he grabs the bottle from the counter, hands it to Abby, and growls: “Put that shit away before I break it over your head.”

Abby blinks. “Damn, okay.”

“Metal.” Baby mumbles, taking it from Abby and sipping again.

“Insane.” Jinu hisses, brushing your hair out of your face gently. “Are you okay?”

You shrug him off. “I’m not your fucking responsibility.”

“Go back to bed.” he says.

Abby drops Baby, mostly because Baby is now biting his shoulder, but not without a smug pat to his ass. Baby lands on his feet, glares at all of them, and brings the bottle to his lips again.

“No.” Jinu growls.

Baby pauses. Looks Jinu dead in the eye. “Fuck you.”

Then drinks.

“Jesus.” you mutter. “Could you all just—die, or something?”

Jinu sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Come on. Let me walk you back to your room.”

You shrug him off. You just… slip your arm out of his reach.

Romance climbs to his feet, wheezing, face flushed. “Okay—okay—hold on, me next—Abby, throw me—”

You stand, turning away, not looking back. You don’t owe them your voice today. Not after what they did. Not after the lies. Not after the war they started behind your back.

Romance visibly stumbles. Literally. His knees buckle. Hands slap the counter. “Oh my—okay—hello—hello—“ all this because he caught a glimpse of your ass.

Back in your room, you step over Mystery without a word. Your ankle bumps his side. He stirs.

“Move.” you mutter.

He blinks up at you. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even complain. He rises to his feet.

“Hey, baby.” you whisper to the tiger, crawling into the bed, laying half over him.

He rumbles. The deep, echoing purr vibrating under your ribcage.

“Love of my life.” you say, petting his massive cheek. “Handsomest man in the world.” You turn your head just enough to glare at Mystery. “Go.” you say firmly. “I’m tired. Of all of you.”

He nods. Slowly. Almost ashamed. “Sorry.”

You keep stroking the tiger’s fur. Burying your face into his shoulder. Letting the fur soak up the headache behind your eyes.

“So beautiful.” you murmur, kissing the tiger’s shoulder. “My sweet boy.”

The tiger makes a pleased rumble, tail flicking contentedly.

After that, the boys left. They always do, and almost everyday, you’re alone. I mean you have Derpy and Sussie but c’mon, that is not the same as having human company. Wanted human company.

You miss your girls. God, you miss them so bad it aches. You wonder what they’re doing. If they’re planning. If they think you’re dead. If they think you switched sides. You press your forehead to your knees as you lay in bed. Try not to cry. Fail.

You hate the boys.

You hate them.

You hate the way they took you, the way they manipulate, the way they joke, the way they flirt. The way they walk.

But you also…god fucking damn it.

You love them. A little.

You love the way Jinu always speaks softly to you, even when he’s just done being an asshole to the others. You love the way Baby pretends not to care but was immediately there when you screamed about the spider which you’re still scared of because holy shit it was HUGE. You love how Romance checks your room “by accident” just to see if you’re breathing. You love the way Mystery growls at anyone who touches you, even his own people. You love how Abby looks and how that personality matches his looks for some reason.

Stockholm Syndrome, they’d call it.

Fuck no. No.

You want to hate them. But you’re so fucking tired.

You’ve just been around them too much. That’s it, yeah, that’s it.

THUD.

Something slams into your door. Hard.

You freeze.

Another sound. This time less thud and more oh fuck I just tripped over my own feet.

“—fuckin’ move—dude, I got it—no you don’t, you’ve got claws out again—stop, STOP—I’M FINE—”

You grab the bedside lamp and nearly hurl it.

Then, the door opens. And there’s Abby. And behind him? Mystery.

But the real kicker?

The flowers.

This is a bouquet. And it’s gorgeous. Elegant. Vibrant. The kind of bouquet a guy tries for. The kind someone asks for help to pick out because he cares.

And Abby’s the one holding them.

“Hey babe.” Abby says.

Mystery nudges him with his elbow, expression stone-flat but intentional.

“Oh—right. Yeah. We got you these.”

Abby holds the flowers out.

His arm is kind of trembling.

“We thought you’d, like… girls like flowers, right?” he mutters, voice too low and too soft to be coming from Abby. “So. Yeah.”

You blink.

Behind him, Mystery steps into the doorway, one hand shoved in his pocket and he just nods.

You stare.

Abby clears his throat.

“We, uh… we passed this stall on the way back from—doesn’t matter. We saw ‘em and…” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly seventeen. “You’re always mad. Which, like, hot. But also maybe we thought this’d… help.”

You just blink at him.

“Fuck, I knew this was stupid.” he mutters, glancing at Mystery. “Told you we should’ve just brought food.”

Mystery shrugs.

“They’re nice.” you mutter, a little confused.

“…Nice.” Abby nods. Then, mutters, “Fucking expensive too.”

You blink. Your lips part, but no words come out. You stare at them.

“I—I don’t know what the fuck they mean. I didn’t look at the flower language thing, okay? They just looked cool. Red means… passion, or something. I think. Or murder. Either way, felt on-brand.”

You slowly reach out. Take them. The bouquet is heavy in your hands. Warm. Alive. You look down at it. Then back up at them.

Abby’s trying so hard not to look nervous. His jaw’s tight. His fingers twitch. Like he’s waiting for you to throw them in his face. Or cry. Or scream.

Mystery just watches. Like he always does.

“…They’re beautiful.” you whisper.

Both boys blink.

You pet the petals softly, then glance up. “I love them.”

“Yeah?” Abby asks, exhaling. “Course you do. I mean. Babe like you? You deserve nice things.”

You roll your eyes. But you’re smiling. A little.

He nudges Mystery. “Told you. Boom. Nailed it. Fucking flower genius.”

“…They’re really pretty.” you murmur. Flowers do feel nice.

Abby swallows. Doesn’t meet your eyes. Nods like a fucking idiot. “…Yeah. You are too.”

You look up at him. Sharp. Deadpan.

He winces. “I meant the flowers. I mean—fuck—I meant—”

Mystery elbows Abby in the side.

Abby exhales hard, shakes his head. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Still wanted you to have ‘em.”

You look at the flowers again.

You feel horrible. Heavy. Mismatched. Twisted in the chest. But this feels nice.

Abby leans back a little, stretching an arm over his head. Shirt rides up. Abs. Obscene ones. Glowing faintly from demon marks. Veins like river maps on his biceps. Pure fucking genetics.

“Could’ve died.” he says with a deep, theatrical sigh. “Still had time to think about you. Bring you shit. That’s gotta earn me a tiny bit of forgiveness.”

You don’t respond.

He flexes subtly. Chest tightening under the shirt, arms folded to make his shoulders pop. His jaw is flexing too, a jock move, the kind that screams yeah, I do push-ups for breakfast, you should sit on my face sometime, it’s fine.

Mystery pets the tiger. Glances at Abby. Abby meets his eyes and gives him a look like, back me up, bro. Mystery blinks. Then, very slowly, turns back to the cat and keeps petting it like this has nothing to do with him.

Abby shifts position, flexing just enough to make every muscle in his arm do a magic trick.

You do not look.

You do not look.

You look.

Fuck.

“Anyway.” Abby says, voice too casual to be truly casual. “We were thinking.”

“No one asked you to.”

“Cool, but we were anyway.”

“I don’t care.”

“Thought maybe tomorrow,” he says. “we could get you out.”

You raise your brows.

“To the rooftop for a walk. Kinda romantic.”

You stare at him. Then at Mystery. Who is absolutely not backing him up, still gently stroking the tiger’s chin like he’s trying to win custody.

“You want to take me out on a date.”

“‘Date’ is a strong word.” Abby says. Remembers girls like honest and vulnerable guys. Also remembers that girls like tough guys. Slaps himself in his head. “….Yes I do.”

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs, flexing again. On purpose. “Being nice.”

“You’re trying to seduce me.”

Mystery lets out a quiet sound. You think it’s a laugh. Or maybe he just breathed weird.

Abby keeps talking. “You’ve had a rough day. I get that. I don’t blame you for being pissy.”

You give him a long, cold look.

“C’mon, babe. You know you want—”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Need anything?” he asks, ignoring what you just said, casually flexing as he scratches the back of his neck. Like you don’t see right through it. “Water? Blanket?”

“Out.”

“C’mon, babe, don’t be like that. I brought you flowers. And I look like this.” He gestures at his entire existence. Then, grumbling, frustrated, he reaches back. Grabs Mystery by the collar. Mystery just lets it happen. As he’s dragged out, his hand rises in a casual wave. You’re not sure if it’s goodbye or an apology.

Abby mutters the whole way down the hall: “Fucking ungrateful. I’m being NICE. I BROUGHT FLOWERS. What the fuck else do girls want, man? Should I bleed? Should I paint a fucking mural—”

The door closes.

Finally.

Silence.

Then a muffled voice through the wall:

“Was that too much?”

Mystery: “Yes.”

“…But she looked—”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A beat.

“Shit.”

Your tiger nosedives back into your lap like nothing happened. His tail curls possessively around your waist.

You kiss the top of his head.

The flowers sit in your hand. They’re lovely. And you’re tired. Tired of the ache in your chest. Tired of feeling torn between two worlds, between memory and this fucked up reality where even your emotions go up and down.

Abby lets go of Mystery’s shirt with a huff and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t speak. Mystery doesn’t either. Until—

“Didn’t pet the cat long enough.”

Abby glares sideways at him. “That’s what you’re upset about?”

Mystery shrugs.

“And I was nice, too.” Abby continues. “Like not even a dick about it. Fuckin’ rooftop date idea? Gold. That’s ideal boyfriend material.”

“Mm.”

“Did it work?” comes Romance’s voice, smoooooooth, already halfway to drunk. He’s standing in the doorway of his room in a silk robe that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide the toned frame beneath it, bare chest out, legs long, posture lazy. A glass of wine in one hand, a tub of ice cream in the other. The robe is crimson, of course. Of fucking course it is. There’s a slit up the thigh. He’s not wearing pants. Just boxers. And confidence.

Abby scowls. “Do I look like it worked?”

“She told us to fuck off.” Mystery mutters.

Romance whistles low. But he is proud of Mystery for talking.

Romance snorts so hard he almost drops the ice cream. “God, you suck at this.”

Abby growls and rips his shirt clean in half.

Romance pauses mid-spoon. “…See, that’s your problem. You keep doing that. Like—do you have a shirt allergy? What the fuck?”

“I was stressed!”

Mystery silently reaches over, plucks a petal out of Abby’s hair, and hands it to Romance. Romance takes it.

The three of them walk into Romance’s room. It’s brutal. Silk sheets. Mood lighting. A full-length mirror directly across from the bed (of course). The mattress is too big. There’s at least five different brands of lube on the bedside table and two unopened boxes of condoms—

Abby immediately starts poking around. Opens the nightstand. Pulls out a handful of condoms.

“Help yourself, why don’t you.” Romance drawls as Abby grabs a strip of condoms from the stash. “Actually, take more. I have the twelve-pack somewhere in the drawer under the incense.”

“You got the good kind now?” Abby asks, actually checking expiration dates.

“Mm. Thin as regret.”

Abby pockets them.

Romance sits down on his bed and crosses his legs, wraps himself tighter in his robe, and spoons ice cream into his mouth.

Abby sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, scowling. “I just… I thought flowers were supposed to do something.”

“They are.” Romance says, digging his spoon into the ice cream. “They say, ‘Hey. I’m trying.’ And you were. It’s a good move.”

“Next time I’ll let Mystery hand them over.”

Mystery: “No thank you.”

Abby throws his hands up. “He doesn’t even talk. Why is he so likable?!”

Mystery hums softly and reaches for Romance’s spoon, steals a bite of ice cream without a word.

“…Hey.” Romance says mildly. “That’s mine.”

Mystery shrugs. Drops down into a beanbag.

“Alright, let’s talk about it. What’d you do? What’d you say? Give me details.”

Abby rubs his face. “I walked in. Said some smooth shit. Flexed a little. Told her I’d take her out.”

“And?”

“Didn’t work.”

Romance nods solemnly, wine glass swirling. “She’s building a wall to protect her vulnerability. You’re not the problem.”

Delusional fuck.

Abby squints. “Can you say that with less wine in your mouth?”

Romance leans back, robe falling wider open. “She’s not saying no. She’s saying not like this. Fuck, I’m brilliant.”

Abby groans, pulling a pillow over his face. “We are NEVER doing the flower idea again.”

“Oh, but we are.” Romance says smoothly. “It was sweet. Girls like that.”

“She doesn’t.”

“She does.” Romance corrects, “She just hates you.”

Mystery nods solemnly. “True.”

“We all came up with the flowers thing together.” Abby mutters, face buried in a pillow.

Romance smirks. “Yeah. And I said ‘wait until she’s calm.’”

“I panicked!”

Mystery’s hand goes up. “I didn’t vote.”

“She’s homesick. She’s furious. You can’t flirt that away. You can’t push her into love. You have to earn her trust. Carefully. No more manipulation. No more lies. Just be there. And not like—‘oh I’m here to flirt and make you giggle’. No. Just be present. Let her be mad. Let her be soft. Let her breathe.”

The room is quiet for a moment.

Abby blinks. “Did you just therapy us?”

Romance raises a brow. “Are you gonna cry?”

“Fuck you.” Abby mutters. “I might.”

Mystery, flat: “He’s right.”

Romance gestures toward the discarded ice cream box. “You wanna win her over, you start with consistency. Show up. Don’t push. Be soft. Be useful. Maybe shut up a little.… she’ll come around.”

Abby doesn’t respond.

Mystery exhales through his nose.

Romance dips his spoon again, stares at the melting in his cup. “You gotta mean it. You gotta… slow it down.”

Abby finally looks up. “Since when do you know anything about slowing down?”

Romance smirks, raising his glass. “Since I met her.”

Abby’s stretched out on the edge of the bed. Condoms still in his pocket, head thrown back. Mystery is curled up in the oversized bean bag with his legs half out, hoodie pulled up over his nose.

Romance finishes the last of his wine, sighs, and sets the glass down. “Alright.”

He stands, letting his robe slide off.

Okay okay don’t panic he’s wearing boxers.

He reaches for a tiny glass jar of body oil from the shelf and pops the lid.

Abby doesn’t even blink. Just throws an arm over his eyes. “If you oil your ass in front of me again—”

“It’s self-care.” Romance says serenely, rubbing the oil into his chest with slow, luxurious strokes.

“You wax your legs.” Abby adds.

Romance hums. “And they’re smooth.”

There’s a brief pause as Romance reaches behind his shoulder, getting into the hard-to-reach places. “So. Anyone else wanna slap Baby in the face lately, or is it just me?”

“Been acting like a bitch.” Abby mutters.

Romance doesn’t pause. “Thank you. He’s been using my face mask again.”

“That kid needs to be thrown into a lake.” Abby says.

“With a brick.” Mystery adds. “He spit in my coffee.”

Romance gasps again, absolutely horrified. “On purpose?!”

Mystery nods.

“That son of a bitch. I tried to pet him on the head yesterday,” Romance adds with a sigh, massaging oil into his biceps now. “and he said, quote, ‘Touch me again and I’ll piss in your expensive shampoo.’”

Mystery actually snorts. Real laughter. A miracle.

Romance points his oil-slicked finger at him triumphantly. “HA! Let’s talk shit some more. Mystery, your turn. Who are you beefing with lately?”

Mystery shrugs. “Jinu.”

“Wait, for real?” Abby perks up.

“Yeah. He’s been weird.”

“He used to be fun.” Romance says, hand now trailing oil absently down to his ribs. “Like genuinely fun. Mean. Threw hands in bars. The whole package. Now he’s just…” Romance gestures with the bottle. “Mr. Responsible. Mr. I’m the Leader. Mr. Don’t torture the hostage again, guys, she’s traumatized.” He mocks the voice. Mockingly well.

Abby snorts. “He gave me a full lecture the other day.”

“He washed your mouth out with soap last month.”

“I said ONE curse word on camera! He used to drink, he used to throw shit, he used to yell dumb stuff like the rest of us. Now he’s just like—” he thinks. He can’t think of anything. He sighs and gives up.

Mystery shrugs. “He’s coping.”

Romance smirks. “He’s been coping since 1837.”

“Dude hasn’t smiled in six months.” Abby mutters. “Unless Y/N’s around.”

Romance exhales through his nose. “I get it, though.”

“Yeah.” Abby sighs. “Same.”

Mystery gives the world’s most disinterested nod. “Mm.”

Romance breaks the silence first. “Still—”

“Still.” Abby echoes.

“He needs to get laid,” Romance finishes.

“BADLY.” Abby agrees.

Mystery mumbles, “He took my knife.”

“WHICH one?” Abby turns.

Mystery shrugs. “The little one.”

Romance gasps. “Your baby knife?!”

Mystery nods. So sad.

“So anyway,” Romance says between strokes. “I don’t care if Baby’s the youngest, I swear if he slams one more cabinet door—”

“I’m breaking his legs.” Abby finishes, not even looking up.

Mystery, adds flatly: “He eats my leftovers.”

“He labeled it and Baby still ate it,” Romance says with a scandalized gasp, massaging oil into his neck now. “And then gaslit him. Like, oh my god, what pizza? I didn’t see your name on it? It was in the shape of an M, you ass!”

“He said the M stood for ‘mine.’” Mystery mutters.

“I hate him.” Abby says.

Romance rubs oil into his thighs. “He’s so evil. Cute evil. A tiny little dictator.”

“He called me old yesterday.” Abby mutters.

Mystery shrugs. “He called me a virgin. Then blew smoke in my face.”

Romance pauses, hand halfway down his thigh. “Aw. Baby…”

Abby shakes his head. “That’s fucked up.”

“It was mint.” Mystery says quietly. “It hurt.”

Romance walks over and pats his head, glistening and unbothered. “We’re gonna bully him so hard.”

Abby cracks his neck. “Honestly? Deserves it. He’s been acting like his trauma is the only trauma that matters.”

“Oh, here we go.” Romance mutters, grabbing his wine again, pouring more into the glass. “Get it out, king.”

“I’m serious! It’s always, ‘I was too young,’ or, ‘They ruined my life,’ or, ‘I don’t dream anymore’ like okay, cool, join the fucking club! My family’s dead and my soul is owned, we’re all going through it!”

“Big facts.” Romance agrees, raising his glass. “Anyways, you guys staying?”

Abby groans. “I should sleep. Gotta wake up and remind Baby he’s the worst person alive.”

“Healthy.” Romance nods. “What about you?”

Mystery, in the bean bag, is half-asleep already. Hoodie pulled up, arms crossed. “I have a bed.” he mumbles.

Romance shrugs. “Then go lay in it, mon chéri.”

With a low grunt, Abby hauls himself up off the bed. “Alright, I’m out. Thanks for the therapy, and the oil show.”

“You’re welcome.” Romance says brightly.

Mystery stands next too, slow and silent, brushing invisible lint off his hoodie like he wasn’t just shit talking Baby a three minutes ago.

Just as they turn to leave, two foil-wrapped objects slap against their chests.

Romance, now leaning against the closet doorframe in nothing but those obnoxiously expensive boxers, is holding the third strip of condoms in his teeth like a war prize.

“Take backups.” he mumbles around the foil. “And don’t say I never gave you boys anything.”

Abby laughs, a sharp bark of it. Slaps Romance on the back hard enough to echo. “Legend.”

Mystery doesn’t react at all. Just catches his set one-handed and pockets them without breaking eye contact. Unfazed. Respect tbh.

Romance watches them go with a shit-eating grin. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Then the list’s wide open.” Abby shoots back, walking out into the hall.

Mystery just waves.

Romance blows a kiss and shuts the door with a snap.

He sighs once more, dramatically of course, then walks back to the mirror, adjusts his boxers slightly, and whispers to his own reflection:

“…I am so fucking hot.”

And with that, the two slide out into the hallway. They walk in sync, not fast, not loud. It’s late. Quiet. Not because they’re tense, but because they’re sneaking. Or at least, trying not to wake anyone up. Namely: you.

Then they pass your door.

Abby doesn’t even stop, just lifts the strip of condoms in the air like a flag and waves it a little in front of the closed door, one brow raised.

“Goodnight, babe.” he whispers, quiet, cheeky, wicked.

Mystery side-eyes him. But he doesn’t stop him.

Neither of them say a word. Not even a laugh. They’re silent, out of respect for the sleeping hostage in the next room. Real gentlemen shit.

And just like that, they move on.

Let’s be honest.

They’re idiots. Like, actual idiots.

Let’s take a moment. Let’s just… talk about it. Just… talk. Because it’s so stupid. The entire situation is so fucking stupid.

They’re… so selfish.

That’s the core of it, really.

They want you. Not because you’re useful now, they know they’re not getting what they needed. They just… fell into this.

You hate them. You do. You hate them for what they’ve done. For not telling you the girls know about you. For lying. For fighting the girls.

You hate them.

But god, some nights…

Some nights, when everything’s quiet, you think you might love them, too.

Just a little.

And it’s so fucking tragic.

But they still plan to kill the girls.

That’s the plan. That’s the goal.

It’s why they took you in the first place. And they haven’t changed it. They haven’t really considered what happens after. They don’t know how they’ll keep you. How they’ll live with themselves. How they’ll explain. How they’ll survive the wreckage when it crashes around them.

Because they aren’t thinking about you.

They’re thinking about themselves.

How they feel. What they want. What you mean to them.

It’s so fucking selfish.

They should’ve done better. They could’ve. They still could.

But they don’t.

Because it’s easier to keep you in a cage than it is to confront what they’ve done and ask for your trust like real people.

They want you to love them back—but they won’t let you leave.

They want you to feel safe—but they won’t stop hunting your friends.

They want your heart—but only on their terms.

They want, they want, they want.

Are you hearing this? Fucking hilarious.

BUT JINU.

LOVE OF MY FUCKING LIFE JINU. WAS. NOT. FUCKING. CAPABLE. OF LETTING YOU GO.

He’s selfish.

They all are.

Demons.

No matter how many flowers they bring, or how many dumb jokes they make, or how quiet Mystery gets when you cry, they are selfish. Ruined. Fucked by centuries of pain they never unpacked. Boys who were hurt and became hurting machines. Hurt people hurt people.

And it’s not fair.

What happens after they win? Are you supposed to just forgive them? Are they gonna hand you a smoothie and say, “Cool, now we’re dating, right?” Put a ring on your finger while the blood’s still drying on the walls?

They don’t think that far. They never did.

Because they’re selfish.

Because they were boys before they were demons, and boys grow into men only when they learn to look at someone else’s pain and not walk away from it.

And they haven’t done that yet.

They’re pussies.

But they’re learning. I guess.

The AMOUUUUNT of memes I got from y’all thank you SOOOO much, y’all are hilarious I can’t (also if u send them in, tell me if you want credit or not!! Also feel free to take credit for these)💋

~ thank you for all the support! tags: @lasa27 @limerenceisserenity @zoeisdreaming6 @killinkiwi @xxying-yangxx @bubbleishiaaa @prettylittlelavvy @gl00muraaii @boo-shalala @stxrrielle @vixyvlo @ny0000mw00m @loreleis-world @mshope16 @littlemissfix-itfic @fandomhoedamien @spiderset @azzberry @aerrz3 @tatsuri-zomushiki @theferretkids @apelepikozume @scpdragon @justanindiangirl12 @fuevrois @soggumm @ri-eveowe @lucifers16ducks @elixua @xh01bri @greensunflowerjuna @valeriele3 @lovely-maryj @c0sm1cp0tat0 @wantstoliveinfantasy @i-am-here3 @naarra @confusedparticle @itsberrydreemurstuff @asphodeloss @x-w-a @nosbaby07 @prorpy @blobbyblobblobblobblob @ryukumi @ryuucollapse @rainbowcupcakes23 @nnasv @aika-3 @thegirloftheirdreams

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [reader’s bio]

🎤—Yandere!saja boys x reader x male!yandere!huntrix

—Synopsis: the more in depth version of the idol that capture both her friends and enemies hearts

—warning: none

—A/n: this is just going over her character a bit more, and it just kinda helps me better understand who I am trying to write now that I have everything about her written down. REMINDER, NEYA IS YOUR STAGE NAME NOT YOUR ACTUAL NAME. THIS IS NOT AN OC FIC!

Backstory…?

This isn’t gonna spoil anything, it just talks about what we already know

So, in the prologue I had written a scene where readers parents are killed by the demon and she runs away only to be found by (that bitch) Celine

In the prologue I written her to be around eight years old at the time, so fifteen years into the future reader is now twenty-three living in Seoul with the Huntrix boys.

She is what many demons refer to as the ‘key’, she has the ability to open the gates of hell or seal them shut for forever. Many demons try to attack her and force her open the gates (which they have failed at numerous times because your girl can fight) she is protected by the Huntrix, who have fought to keep her safe for the past fifteen years. But they also yearn for her to find her powers and use it to help seal the Honmoon, and (Ruen) get more angsty everyday the more demons escape and with the upcoming idol show.

As Celine had said in the prologue she does try to help reader harness her powers at becoming the key, but ultimately fails and the power is still hidden inside of her many years later. So, instead, Celine trains reader alongside Huntrix to keep her on her toes and not be caught off guard when it comes to demons (this is mentioned in chapter 2)

Her weapon of choice is a Sai, and for those that don’t know it is the same weapon that Ralph from teenage mutant ninja turtles uses. She has two, but they are true hunter weapons. Since she wasn’t destined to be a true hunter she is stuck with a weapon that won’t send demons back to hell (also mentioned in chapter 2)

I’ve pictured her fighting style to almost resemble a ballerina (kinda like Natasha from Marvel) she is just fluent and light on her feet

Aesthetic

In my head she is a mix between Olivia Rodrigo and Sabrina Carpenter. As in she has Olivia’s dark purple aesthetic with Sabrina’s outfits and stage work.

For her light stick, I really want to have something with flowers. But I feel like it wouldn’t go good with the dark purple/olivia aesthetic, so I think I’ll just stick with a moon or star for the light stick. And I want it to be one of those customizable ones where you put stickers and ribbons all over.

I of course don’t picture her with any specific hairstyles or makeup, only because this is supposed to be a self insert fic, and not everyone can throw their hair in a perfect messy bun to go to a One Direction concert. So with that being said, I just leave that up to your own imagination.

For her pjs I kinda do what I do in real life and just wear what I’m in the mood for. If I feel like a goddess and want to sleep like on I’ll wear my nice silk pjs. (that definitely did not cost a good amount of money) Or when I feel like a eight year old boy I’ll wear a huge t-shirt with some random boxers I found in the Walmart parking lot. So anytime reader is like sleeping she will most definitely be wearing a different pj set every night depending on her mood.

I really feel like she would smell amazing, like the kind of amazing where you could just lay there for hours and just smell something amazing. But I don’t want her to have a specific smell— to any of the boys at least. Do yall know that potion in Harry Potter that attracts people based on certain smells they like (Amortentia, I think) so really all the boys think of different thinks when they smell her. (This is not meant to be a weird mate thing, it’s really just her perfume or bath wash that they smell or things from throughout the day)

Music career

I’m going to say this once and only once, I have never listened to K-pop a day in my life before watching kpdh. So a lot of these song choices that reader would sing is going to be more US than Korean.

And also I’m going to write some side notes below some of them with like music ideas that I think would go great with them or collabs that she would do.

Hear me out: Reader and Abby singing this. I wanted Romance but then I thought, ‘no, Abby is more Bruno Mars coded than Romance’ so I ended up choosing him instead.

Reader and Baby would eat this up. That’s all I’m gonna say

Not even gonna lie, the music video would be just like the scene from Barbie where Barbie is being chased by men in an office

Anndddd I hit audio limit… but you get the idea

What do the fans think of her?

“Neya is literally the kindest person alive. You can feel it, you know? Like, she actually means what she says in interviews and doesn’t make you feel bad for being yourself.”

“There’s something so gentle but strong about her. Like she’s been through hell and still finds a reason to smile for other people. Queen behavior.”

“I saw her live once and she stayed after to thank the crew personally. Every single one of them. Who does that anymore???”

“Every time she smiles, I feel like things are going to be okay?? It’s weird. In a good way.”

“Not to be dramatic but if she asked me to water her plants, I would treat them like my own children.”

“There’s something different about her. Not in a bad way. Just… like she sees the world deeper than the rest of us.”

“Sometimes it feels like she’s protecting us from something. I know that sounds crazy but I feel it.”

“She could run me over with a tour bus and I’d say thank you.”

“She opens her mouth and my brain shuts off. Like, speak again, goddess. Step on me.”

“She’s the type of fine that makes you reevaluate your entire sexuality. Like… maybe I am bi. Or just Neya-sexual.”

“Her grabbing someone by the collar during rehearsal? I’m writing the 3-part fanfic with that exact scene as the climax. Don’t test me.”

“One more fan cam and I’m putting my phone on Do Not Disturb to write a 200k word fic where she’s a cursed warrior who falls for her sworn enemy… me.”

“I saw her blink in that interview and suddenly I’ve written an entire enemies-to-lovers storyline where she saves me from a demon, confesses her feelings, and we kiss under a blood moon.”

“She looked into the camera once and I swear it unlocked a soulmate AU in my brain. Why is no one stopping me.”

Favorite things

This one is short, just a five listed chart about her favorite things

Her teddy (yes, her stuffed animal that Zio won for her at an arcade when they were twelve is her most prized possession) she loves that thing, sleeps with it every night, cry’s into its matted fur, a button eye is missing, leg has been sown back on. And most importantly, she named it Trixie after Huntrix

Her boys. Having spent fifteen years of her live just surrounded by them with get you attached pretty quickly. Even though they get in her space and always seem to hover over her when she is trying to go about her day she still loves them and wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Her Sai’s, something about having to carrie them around with her when on missions or practicing with them day and night when she was little will get you attatched. Even if it’s a weapon that you picked because your favorite Ninja turtle used it.

Her music, dedicating majority of your life to a music career will either make you love it or hate it. And you’ve definitely debated either you loved it or hated it many times during writers block. But you still love it, you love sitting in the studio and pouring your heart out into a song that meant a lot to you. And you especially love that you get to share this career with your closest friends.

The fans, (ohhh Mae) watching as thousands of people cheered for you and sang by your side will form an attachment. and knowing that your protecting these people (the ones that love you) always brings a smile your face)

—A/a/n: this was short and sweet, so I hope you enjoyed. As I said I made this really for me but I also wanted to share this with you guys to help you better understand the character. (Also if you guys have anymore song ideas PLEASE let me know) love ya ;)

No tags because it’s late and I don’t feel like adding all those people right now. Sorry

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [pt.2]

🎤— yan!saja boys x fem!reader x yan!male!huntrix

— synopsis: you were never meant to be a hunter. You were supposed to be a symbol— the key to the demon gate, the girl destined to seal away darkness once and for all. But, when the power inside of you refuses to obey, you chose a different path: to fight alongside the Huntrix, the only family you've ever known.

One stage, Huntrix are stars. Off stage they are slayers of demons— and fiercely protective of the girl fate calls their weapon. Ruen, Miran, and Zio... each with their own way of watching you. Each with secrets that they'll never let you uncover. And as the gates begin to stir and a new group reveals themselves to try and bring damnation to the mortal world they become just as protective as the Huntrix over you.

As the gates begin to stir and your powers awaken in dangerous, unnatural ways, you find yourself pulled into something deeper than the prophecy.

You are the key. But to what- salvation or ruin— depends on who gets to you first.

— warning: EVENTUAL SMUT, cursing, yandere tropes, blood, killing demons, Celine, Gwi-ma lowkey being better than Celine, hatred between both boy bands, longing, we'll see if I have the ability to write angst, weapons, bad flirting, good flirting, Baby being a brat

— A/n: I’m trying not to make this scene by scene of the movie because I have my own ideas, but before we can get to all that we do unfortunately have to go scene by scene.

[0] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

The lights in the apartment were low, casting a soft amber glow over the furniture. The distant murmur of the city filtered through the spacious windows. Forgotten, uncared for.

You were curled on the couch, blankets wrapped tightly around your body and an ice pack rested against your forehead. Despite having told the boys numerous times on the way home that you were fine; they deeply disagreed with you.

Across from you, Miran paced like a caged animal, jaw clenched so tightly that it ticked. His eyes were darker than usual, and every so often, they flicked towards the door like he was debating walking back out and hunting someone down.

Zio leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes— rare for him— and his silence was thick with tension. Plus, his eyes never left you; he tracked every blink, and deep breath with a knowing watch.

Making sure you wouldn’t do whatever you did earlier during the street performance.

Ruen sat on the coffee table in front of you, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled like he was praying— or plotting.

“I’m fine,” you told them for the third time since you’ve been home. Your voice was soft, lying to even yourself. “It was just… a headache. Probably stress— or, maybe the sun—“

“Don’t lie to us.” Ruen’s voice was low, rough edged with something feral.

You adverted his gaze. “I’m not…”

“You nearly collapsed,” Miran cut in, quiet but colder than usual. “You were burning up. Could barely stand.”

“And you were holding your head like something was stabbing you in the skull.” Zio added. “Don’t tell us that was just stress.”

You looked between them. Their faces were tight, unrelenting. Protective, yes— but something else simmered underneath. Something you’ve yet to see with your own eyes when it came to your boys.

You swallowed, chin resting on your knees. “It didn’t feel like… them. The Saja boys, I mean.”

Even though you were lying to their faces about feeling fine, you were speaking the truth about the Saja boys. I didn’t feel like them; it felt stronger, more powerful than any simple demon you’ve encountered.

Miran scoffed, almost laughing. “Of course it was them. Who else would mess with your head and then have the balls to perform like nothing happened?”

“They’re toying with you,” Ruen said, leaning forward as he took your head in his hands. “With us. And now, they know what you look like, what you are.”

You looked down at your hands. Ignoring how Ruen gripped your face a smudge tighter. Your fingers curled instinctively into your palm. They were right. Deep down you knew that the Saja boys knew what you were, and even deeper down, you knew that they would come for you at some point or another.

And something told you that you needed to tell your boys about the voice from earlier. But they wouldn’t understand— not yet.

How could you explain that you’d heard a voice— not quite human— whispering her name through the music? A voice that sounded like it came from deep inside your skull, too faint to truly understand, but sharp enough to make you hurt.

But you didn’t want to tell them, because once you did, it would become real.

The voices. The pain. The feeling of something awakening deep inside your body.

So, you said nothing.

And the boys, watching you with darkened eyes and clenched jaws, interrupted your silence in a different way.

“They’ll regret having met you.” Ruen whispered to you, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“We should’ve stopped them,” Miran stopped his pacing, eyeing you with a look of solicitude. “We should have broken something.”

“Yeah, like their stupid— perfect— faces.” Zio muttered, the others choosing to ignore him.

They then began to talk over one another, muttering threats or actions that they should have done instead of standing around and watching as you were mind-tortured by the Saja boys.

You knew you couldn’t say anything to change their mind. They were blaming the Saja boys. And if you hadn’t heard the voice, you would have blamed them too. But even though you deemed them semi-innocent, you knew your boys weren’t as forgiving.

“If you don’t believe me,” you began, the room immediately quieting down as they listen to your soft voice. “Then what do we plan on doing to stop them?”

Despite your gut telling you no, you felt the urge to know what they planned on doing. If they were to torture them or give them a quick and easy death. But even deep down, you felt as if both of those choices were wrong. You felt as if, maybe, you had a chance at talking to them. Get to know their motives before they acted.

It was silent. Each boy being deep inside their mind as they thought over the same thought.

“Do we know where they are now?” Ruen asked, suddenly standing up and reluctantly dropping his hands from your face.

Miran nodded his head, pulling his phone from his back pocket. “They said something about a talk show, after their performance.” He told the room, pulling up his socials on the Saja boys.

“Play games with us,” Zio chimed, showing his own phone where the game show had made a post for tonight featuring the Saja boys. “It starts in an hour.”

“Then we’ll be there.” Ruen finished, gesturing to the boys as they each began to make their way out of the living room.

You perked at this, not thinking that they would have acted this fast to ‘dealing’ with the Saja boys. You quickly unraveled yourself from the thick blankets and tossing the freezing ice pack onto the coffee table. “Wait—“ You stumbled from the heavy blankets. “Wait, I’m coming.”

They turned around, each with a stern look on their face. “No. You’re staying here, we don’t know what else they might do to you if you come with us.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at them— to even scream at them. “I already told you guys, whatever happened to me earlier; Was. Not. Them. And it was barely even anything, I was being over dramatic. So let me come.”

“No.”

“Ruen, I love you. But you’re being an ass.” You told him, facing the other two boys. “Miran?”

He hummed with a shake of his head.

“Zio?”

“Nope.”

You eyed them. They eyed you. It felt like an old western movie— a stand off. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out a tumbleweed blowing in the background. “I’m still coming.” You told them, not wanting to hear their if’s or but’s as you quickly made your way towards your bedroom.

“No—“ A hand grabbed at your wrist, stopping you from going any further. “No. Just stay here. In the blankets. Where it’s safe.”

“The blanket is not safe, I was getting claustrophobic in there.” You told Zio, yanking your arm from his grasp. “I am coming with you. That’s final. Because I am a hunter. I am your friend. I want to help you, not sit around in a fort of blankets, while you guys are off risking your lives.”

The apartment rang quiet as the boys listened to you. Different swell of emotions forming in the pits of their stomachs.

Did they want you to come with them? No. Were they scared that these Saja boys would play with your mind like they did earlier today? Yes. Did they want to wrap you in layers of bubble wrap and keep you locked in padded room so no one could ever hurt you? Absolutely.

But did they have the right to ignore your wishes and keep you hidden in the apartment? They liked to think so, but only when it affects your safety.

Ruen glanced down at his watch, the hands dancing in slow circles as time continued. He let out a deep groan before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Fine! You can come, but you stay with one of us at all times, okay? No wandering off, no talking to someone that we haven’t met or seen before. Nothing.”

You furrowed your brows, crossing your arms as you eyed the purple haired man. “We are too old to have a buddy system.”

“You can hold my hand if you’d want.” Zio offered, wiggling his fingers at you with a small smile. Trying to ease the slight tension in the room.

“I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re not.” Miran agreed, coming forward to smooth your hair. Letting his hands linger for just a moment. “But you are important to us, and we are not going to let any bad happen to you from here on out.”

You knew they wouldn’t say it aloud, but you saw it in their eyes.

The Saja boys had just made the first move.

And the Huntrix would make sure that it was their last.

Bright lights. Garish hosts. The live studio audience cheered. Laughter and excitement coming from the crowd as they watched the Saja boys chug hot sauce from a baby bottle.

“What the hell am I watching?” You muttered to yourself, watching as they struggled to down the fiery liquid.

Each boy sat in high chairs with bib’s around their necks, their names written on the children’s fabric. Expressions caught in exaggerated pain the longer they drank. Well, all except for the maknae of the group, he was happily drinking away.

You stood offstage in the wings, waiting for your cue from your boys to attack.

Alone.

“Stay here,” Ruen had ordered, jaw clenched as he was already making his way into position.

“Don’t engage.” Zio echoed, trailing after the purple haired man. “If they spot you, we loose the upper hand.”

Mira passed by, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll handle this, just be our eyes.”

Then they were gone— slipping into the shadows, their weapons glowing across their faces as they set up the sneak attack.

Leaving you, quite literally, in the dark.

It was times like these where you didn’t understand the boys. They were so earnest to have you by one of their sides at all times, and yet the moment the Saja boys guard is let down they leave you to attack them. You couldn’t tell if they were just eager to get rid of them to protect you or if their minds were too fogged with Celine’s orders to kill all demons.

The sound of static filled the air, your name shortly following. You grabbed your walkie-talkie from your back pocket, bringing the communicator to your lips before pressing the button on the side. “

“When we give you the signal, cut off all the lights” Ruen’s voice cut through the static. “We’ll drop down and rid the world of their stupid faces, and their stupid music.”

You winced a little. You definitely wouldn’t call their music stupid, it was catchy, had good rhythm, and you’ve caught yourself humming the song when you were all alone. And you especially wouldn’t call their faces stupid…

But you definitely couldn’t tell the boys that.

“And what should I do?” You asked, hand going to hover over your own weapon. The Sai was tucked in its sheath around your hip, the three pointed ends sharp and poised, ready for action.

Since you weren’t destined to be a true hunter, your weapon didn’t glow, it didn’t appear out of thin air like the boys. You just had to carry it around where ever you went, hidden beneath stealth clothes and layers of wrap until you needed it.

But since you weren’t an actual hunter that also meant that the most your weapon could do to a demon was cut them. Make them bleed inhuman blood. Not send them back to the pits of hell.

Static rang once more, “Nothing. Do not engage with these demons, leave them to us.”

You turned your back to the stage momentarily, “What- no. I did not come all this was to be your guys light switch.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Miran’s voice cut in, sharp and final. “On our signal, cut of the lights and get somewhere safe.”

“Miran, I can do more than that, just let me show you guys what I can do.” You waited for a response, for them to just tell you no again and for you to hide so that no one would be able to harm you. But you were met with silence.

“Miran? Zio?” Static then came from your commute, but no one said anything back. “Guys?”

You glanced down at the object, seeing the light on the top switch to orange. That could only mean one thing: Those assholes shut off their talkies.

A groan escaped your lips, forehead hitting the back prop with defeat. You didn’t tag along to be useless. You tagged along to help take down the demon boyband. You wanted to prove to yourself and to the boys that you were a true hunter.

Even though you train alongside your boys for the past fifteen years, you weren’t a true hunter. At least according to Celine. To her, you are what you’ve always been destined to be: the key. And you knew deep down that the boys thought the same way.

And, maybe, that’s why they were so protective of you when it came to hunts. Why one of them was always by your side, even when you could handle yourself just fine. Or even why they surrounded you at home, too.

Because they knew that you couldn’t do your job as a ‘hunter’. Because they knew you were never supposed to be one in the first place.

“Give it up for the Saja boys!”

With your head still leaned against the back prop, you turned to see the Saja boys all standing in a line. Bibs discarded and high chairs rolled away, they stood before the game show hosts, nodding patiently as the two men began to wrap up tonight’s show.

“It is always so hard to say goodbye,” the main host said to the audience, his co-host repeating his words as he wiped ‘tears’ from his eyes.

Jinu, as you’ve come to learn, took the mic from the host, taking the center stage as he began to speak. “Then why say goodbye when we have a special guest coming up?”

The audience cheered on, eager to find out who the ‘special’ guests happened to be. You glanced around backstage, curious to see if anyone happened to be waiting in the wings for their cue to go on stage, but no one was around besides crew help. From where you stood, you could tell your boys were just as confused and curious as you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage, Huntrix!” Jinu stepped back, gesturing to the top of the back drop where Ruen, Miran’s and Zio stood. As the spot light shifted over to them, they got rid of their weapons, smiles forced for the audience as they awkwardly waved.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, head falling into your hands. They were so worried about you getting caught, that they ended up being the ones that got caught and blew their own cover. It was ironic, and something you would have laughed at if the enemy wasn’t a group of unpredictable demons such as these.

Ruen quickly came up with an excuse, slowly shifting himself down the back drop to try and get away. “We just wanted to congratulate and show support to our hoobaes.” He lied, eyes momentarily drifting to where you stood in the wings before drifting back.

“And of course…” Jinu stepped drawled, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Play Games With Us! Get the slide.”

You quickly dove behind the back drop right as the rest of the Saja boys ran over, ungracefully hitting the ground while they ran right past you. They grabbed a slide that you hadn’t noticed earlier and wheeled it in on stage, a sign that read ‘welcome Huntrix’ pasted on the front.

Huntix glanced down at the slide, each of them shaking their heads even as the crowd began to chant. “No— we shouldn’t.” Miran refused, the other boys giving their own refusals before ultimately giving in to the crowds wishes.

They slowly crawled over the back drop, each sitting on their own slide before pushing off. But instead of smoothly falling into the ball pit below, their leathered hunter outfits stopping them with an annoying screech. Causing you, the Saja boys and the audience to cringe at the noise and the second hand embarrassment that ebbed from the boys.

“Oh. My. God.” You muttered again, slowly standing up form the ground right at Huntix fell into the ball pit. Everyone cheering as the the Saja boys having haunting smirks on their faces.

Huntrix quickly stood up, cheeks slightly a-flamed from embarrassment. “Well, this has been fun…” Ruen muttered, a fake smile plastered on his face for the cameras.

Jinu nodded, mic still in hand as he spoke to the boys. “Seonbae, it has been an honor to share the stage with you.” Then, as one, the Saja boys took a bow. The audience cheering for how respectful they were for the other boy group.

Gritting their teeth, your boys bowed lower. Claiming that it was their honor before they then started a bow war, both groups getting lower towards the ground to try and beat the other.

Huntrix groaned in pain as they had strained their backs, one of them popping from the action. Whereas the Saja boys were folded in half, heads nearly touching the floor as they basked in winning the bow off.

You stood from behind the Saja boys—admiring your short live view before they straightened back up.

Then the lights dropped. The hosts voice echoed through the auditorium, laughter and applause rising from the crowd like a wave as the curtain closed for the night.

The show was over.

You exhaled, shoulders pulled tight as you waited for the next move. Huntrix, still in a bowed position, glanced past the Saja boys and towards you. Their hands itching to summon their weapons and deal with the demons before them no matter who was around.

Zio reached for his walkie around his waist, no doubt about to give you some order to hide in the janitors closet for your own safety. Miran glared deviously at the boys, the feel of his weapon dancing on his fingers. Ruen never took his eyes off of you, a part of him worried that once he did you’d disappear from sight.

Where as the Saja boys… they were already moving.

But they weren’t rushing towards the crowd or the exit. Instead they were running straight in your direction.

You immediately reach for your Sai, the blade unsheathed and ready for action. Though before you could attack or get the upper hand on these demons, they were already on you.

Abby wrapped a hand around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You kicked your legs, trying to use your momentum and weight to pull him down like you’ve done with many demons in the past. But a pair of arms grabbed them, holding them tight to keep you from kicking and flailing around. Mystery stared back at you behind his long bangs, refusing to release your legs despite your struggles.

With your weapon still in hand, you twisted the Sai until the sharp blades were pressed against your forearm. Quickly, and quite swiftly, you attacked both men. Having a better angle, you went for Mystery first— but he moved like smoke. Smooth and effortless. Your blade cutting nothing but air.

Something wet touched your ear. Something wet and warm that was soon followed by a pair of lips. “Careful with that thing,” Abby told you, your body now pressed tightly against his chest. You’d jerked your head away, trying to twist your body around in his hold as your weapon came for him next— Sai aimed for his jaw.

The blade came dangerously close. Abby faltered, not in fear, but in awe. With the feeling of your body held against his own, the heat of your skin seeping onto him through his tight floral shirt.

His mouth parted slightly. Distracted.

“Awww…” a voice cooed from beside you, snatching your Sai’s right before you could cut Abby’s face. Romance twirled it around in his hands, “Look at you playing with your toys.”

Feeling a weight shift around your waist, you turned to see Baby taking your other Sai. “And look at that, she’s got two.” He gave you a wicked grin. “How cute is that?” He mocked, turning away and leaving you defenseless against these demons.

You continued to thrash, even as they began to move you towards the exit. One of Abby’s hands slid from your torso to clamp over your mouth when you started to yell, drawing unwanted attention from stage crew. “We need to hurry up and get her out of here.” Mystery commented, holding your legs gently, yet firmly. “Now.”

Abby nodded, shifting you in his hold as the three of you went through the exit doors. “Yeah, wouldn’t want your boyfriends to show up, do we?”

A few giggles erupted from the boy band, specifically Baby as he used your precious Sai to slide it through the exits handles. Keeping everyone locked in from the outside.

“We’ve been dying to properly meet you.” One of them— you didn’t know who since they seemed to be all around you— had said, tugging playfully at your hair.

Seoul’s warm air hit your skin as both Abby and Mystery somehow ran with you in their arms. The latter giving you a small smile every time your eyes met his hidden ones. You could hear the distance shouting coming from inside the studio, no doubt it was your boys trying to find where you’ve gone. The exit door shaking as someone began to run into it repeatedly— your Sai rattling against the handles as more bodies were thrown against the door.

And then you were gone.

Running from the small alleyway that connected to the studio and merging with the crowd. Ignoring the weird looks that people would throw their way, wondering why five grown men were running off with a person in their arms. Each with a giddy smile and mischievous glints in their eyes.

And you, stolen away by five demons, weapons stripped from your hands— had a strange, creeping feeling in your chest.

Not just fear.

Something worse.

Something you’ve yet to experience before.

You sat with your back against the tiled wall, arms crossed tightly. Your clothes were slightly damp from the steam in the air, clinging to her body like a second skin. Sai long gone— Baby having taken them gleefully— and the five demons lounged near you like panthers in a den.

No chains. No restraints.

Just you and the dangerous realization that they didn’t need chains.

“Stop touching me.”

Romance chuckled, taking his arm from where it rested across your shoulders. “Relax. You’re not our prisoner… yet.”

“Then let me go.” You snapped, shuffling away from the demon beside you.

He laughed— not mocking. But fondly.

“We would. We really would. But, you’re too interesting.”

Abby, leaning against the wall on your left, spoke up. “Yeah, you and your three boyfriends have really peeked our interest.”

“They are not my—“

“Do you ever get strange headaches?” Jinu interrupted, he sat on the rim of a drained tub, hand folded on his lap.

You turned in his direction, his casual question not meeting the same vibe of the kidnapping that had happened earlier. “Yes? Everyone gets headaches, I don’t see why that would concern you?” Your small ‘outburst’ making the demon quirk his eyebrow at you.

Mystery sat crossed legged infront of you, his knees barely touching your own. “Or what about a voice in your head?” He added voice low. “Thoughts that aren’t yours?”

You stiffened at that, but said nothing. Your a hands picking at your nails the longer he stared at you.

“Or dreams?” Abby asked, not so subtly flexing his arm in the steam. “Ever see someone walking around, looking… sketchy?”

You gently shook your head. Although Mystery had kinda hit home with the whole voice in your head thing, you were curious if Abby’s dream would come true in the future. Or hopefully they were just crazy.

Baby, who stood the furthest away from you, grinned. “Bet she’ll dream of us now.”

They all chuckled.

But none of them laughed with their eyes.

Jinu watched you carefully.

There was something deliberate about the way you held your silence. He admired that restraint— your unwillingness to give them anything. Most people would crack under curiosity or fear.

You didn’t.

Not yet.

And when you were grabbed earlier, you hadn’t screamed. You fought. A little clumsy, but you still tried to hold your own even while suspended in air. You had fought furiously.

It fascinated him. You were human, fragile and sensitive to feelings— but somewhere in her, something refused to break.

He wondered what that thing was.

He wondered what would happen when it finally did.

Romance found her silence charming— but it was her resistance that lingered.

You weren’t dumb. You weren’t naive. You knew exactly what they were, and still your eyes never left the exits.

It wasn’t in fear. It was planning

And he loved that.

There was a sharpness in you, some kind of fire hiding just beneath the surface. The kind of burn that made people dangerous in the right moment.

He kept thinking about the way you moved during the scuffle. The way you held your Sai like you’d use them. Like you were born to kill them with your useless weapon.

Romance wasn’t sure if he wanted to tease the fire out or keep it all to himself.

Mystery like to watch you think.

It was the little things— how your eyes shifted between their faces, how your breathing would slowed when you’d get cornered with questions.

He would watch as you’d analyze everything. Watch as you’d look them in the eye, but were always thought over what you said before saying it.

That kind of awareness, in humans, was rare.

He could tell you were used to the noise. Used to the chaos.

But you moved like someone used to surviving it.

And he respected that.

Maybe even… related to it.

Abby was drawn to your stubbornness.

Not in the way he usually finds amusing— this wasn’t someone just trying to prove themselves.

This was someone who already been through something.

He didn’t know what it was, but he recognized the heaviness. And how you carried it without bitterness. Most people would fold when life pressed too hard. But you’ve come out of whatever it was standing straighter, sharper.

He admired that kind of strength.

Envied it even.

Baby like how complicated you were.

You weren’t predictable. They knew that you’ve trained with the Huntix for years, but they hadn’t expected you to try and kill them on the spot earlier. One second you were fighting them, the next you were silent— calculating.

And he could tell you were exhausted. Trying to beat five demons with no weapons and no where to truly run is physically exhausting for the human body. But deep down, he could tell that you were tired mentally, too. Like your thoughts never stopped moving.

He liked that. He liked people that were messy on the inside.

It made them real.

And something about that made him want to protect that mess, even if it meant making it worse.

Their questions and teasing had slowed, leaving them to just watch you as you sat awkwardly on the bathroom floor before them. The steam hissed softly. You shifted, uncomfortable under their attention— but not scared.

Not anymore.

“What do you want from me?” You asked finally.

Jinu gave the faintest smile.

“To know you.”

“To understand you.” Said Mystery, leaning forward so that his knees truly touched your own.

“To keep you safe,” Abby added.

“To keep you,” Romance whispered in you ear.

Baby twirled your Sai between his fingers, then handed it back to you handle-first.

“To see what you do when no one else is watching.”

A/a/n: just ignore how rushed the ending is, I wanted to show the Saja boys slowly becoming Yandere while also trying not to go scene for scene of the movie. And just ignore how fast paced this may be. I also don’t like how short this is but y’know what I am just happy I’m done. :) And yall I promise I’m adding everyone to the tag list, just some of yall ain’t coming through for some reason. It was like six of yall that won’t let me tag you guys and I’m so sorry I’m trying 😭

Tag list:

@moonjellyfishie @gremlinartstudio @creativecupcake @rorotvt2025 @perfectlywingedflower @aeirssblog @a-cozy-little-home @thestardeli @zomqiez

@ph1lo-s0ph1a @odevote118 @siasoup @miuangel @ny0000mw00m @babysajano1 @mary-jinx @bad4amficideas @1234mockingjay @stxr-lilac @meowsertrix @littlepotaaatosimp

@novacrystalli

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

IM SO EXICTED FOR UR MALE YAN HUNTRIXXX🙏🙏 GRGEGRGRGGR HRGRGRGRG

Careful they might take that as encouragement 🤭(I promise there will be more time with reader and Male!Huntix in the future)

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

just for future reference its honmoon ! love your writing

Lowkey, I wrote a lot of chapter one at like 2:30 am. So I wouldn’t be surprised that I wrote something’s wrong. But thank you so much ☺️

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

NOT MY WORK, BELONGS TO @juliettrulyyours

My Roommate Is a Ghost

My Roommate Is a Ghost (Requests)

Requests

synopsis: you’re someone who’s bad at socializing—and really, just talking to people in general. so when your landlord told you that you were getting new roommates, you weren’t just scared—you also definitely didn’t expect it to be the new rookie idol group, Saja Boys.

warning: cursing, might be inaccurate timeline, and fluff fluff fluff

this was a CUTE REQUEST! whoever you are anon i hope i don’t disappoint you cause i had so much fun with your request that i may have added addtnl details that weren’t even necessary 😭 that’s why it’s kinda long LOLL

You’re crouching lightly while standing, holding onto the door, trying not to collapse any time soon from the news you just heard from your landlord.

“It’ll just be a few weeks. We would have them in other rooms but… you’re the one with the only apartment that could fit five other people, so…” she starts nervously.

Your landlord was a sweet old lady who had been good friends with your family since forever. That’s why she was fine with giving you the biggest space while also letting you live there alone. Though now, that’s not the case because of the favor she’s asking of you.

“Uhh…” you start off, not really knowing how to reply.

“I wouldn’t have you pay rent for the rest of the year! Please… just do me this favor, hon…” she finishes, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You stare at her, your face trying to remain neutral.

This is bad…

You didn’t know how to say no to people…

“...Alright,” you finally let out a response, then smiled awkwardly.

“Thank you, dear,” she says, then goes to hug you.

“Oh!” you let out of nowhere because of the sudden hug.  “Okay…” you mutter, not knowing what to do, so you just pat her three times on the back until she finally lets go.

Well… guess you’re getting new roommates tomorrow.

—

“Woah… This place is huge! It’s like a mini Changdeokgung Palace—look at those paintings!” a voice exclaims, eyes wide as they take in the apartment.

Four other figures stand nearby, all glancing around curiously, having just been left there by the old lady who offered them the place to stay for a few weeks.

Guess being a good-looking male still has perks in this era. Wonder what else they could get away with…

That was the thought running through the mind of a certain dark-haired male now eyeing the very same paintings Abby—who had loudly commented on the interior—was gawking at.

Abby wasn’t wrong. 

The apartment was massive.

The place looked like a sleek, modern penthouse at first glance, but the walls were lined with framed silk hangings, traditional brush paintings, and intricately carved wooden panels. The sliding doors mimicked hanok latticework with frosted glass, and there were subtle golden dragon motifs etched into the ceiling trims. Even the floor tiles had patterns inspired by old palace courtyards, polished to a mirror shine.

“How did you convince ajumeoni to have us stay here?” Romance, another one of the guys who were also there, asks Jinu, the dark-haired male from before.

Jinu shrugs. “She heard me say we didn’t have a place to stay yet before our performance yesterday, then she started talking about this place—and said we didn’t have to pay.”

A voice from Baby, the mint-haired male with them, quickly responds, “Yeah, ‘cause she didn’t want money—she wanted that little Soda Pop,” He then proceeds to laugh at his own joke while some look at him in disgust and the others groan.

“Ew, what the fuck?” Mystery mutters, disgusted by what he said.

Jinu rolls his eyes before saying, “Well, whatever the reason is, it beats staying where Gwi Ma is, so I’m not complaining.”

When he says that, all the other guys look at each other and start nodding and agreeing. Living anywhere else is better than living in the demon realm with the King of Demons—who is literally the reason why all of them are suffering and currently burning in Hell.

Then, out of nowhere, they hear the sound of running water.

This causes them to stop staring at the designs and turn to where the sound is coming from. When they all look, they see… no one.

“And of course, our first official day in the human realm and Jinu has us rooming with ghosts. Fantastic!” Baby exclaims, the lollipop still in his mouth as he claps once, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Wait, ajumeoni said we had another person here, right?” Abby says, looking to Jinu for confirmation.

Jinu thinks about it for a second, then opens his mouth. “Ah—yeah. Something about the kid of a family friend? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Well, did you also not hear her maybe saying it was a dead person?! The old design of the place is now making more sense…” Romance replies, now looking slightly suspiciously around the apartment.

Baby, still sucking on his lollipop, then says, “I don’t get what’s the big dea—”

“E-Excuse me…”

“AH!” Baby suddenly screams when he hears a voice from behind him.

He stumbles over the table in front of him, which causes him to fall onto the couch face-first.

They all looked at Baby before turning to see what made him scream, and sure enough, it was another person. You just stare at them, and they just stare back. All of you are silent, not knowing what to do or say next.

What they didn’t know was that, in your head, you were panicking all over.

Oh gosh… that’s a lot of roommates! Why didn’t ajumma mention they were that idol group you’ve been seeing on social media?! What do you do now?!

The silence is then cut off by Baby’s muffled groaning before he lifts himself up to look over the couch. His cheek is slightly red from the fall, the lollipop now lying on the couch as a bit of saliva trails from the corner of his mouth. He groans in pain, his mouth slightly open.

He then stares in your direction, which causes your panic to spike even more.

“You!” he yells, then points a finger at you.

Your eyes widen.

“Uhh…” You don’t know what to say. You’re now fiddling with your fingers, looking anywhere but at them.

You weren’t really used to many eyes staring at you.

“Are you… okay?” a soft voice cuts in.

You glance up—just a little—and spot the person who spoke. He has soft lavender hair that covers most of his face except his mouth, yet you can still hear the concern in his voice.

Without knowing how to respond, you just turn and quickly go inside the room you were supposedly supposed to go to.

Earlier, you had been in the art room finishing your painting, then came out to wash your hands. But then, you were surprised to see the roommates you were told about already inside.

What’s worse was one of them was blocking the door to your room!

So, you did what you had to do. You walked over, slightly shaky, before muttering an “excuse me” to the person. You just didn’t expect him to suddenly yelp and trip over a table.

Once you’re finally inside your room, the rest of the boys left behind are just standing or sitting on the couch. The silence is eventually broken by Romance.

“Ajumma’s apartment ghost was kinda cute…”

Baby, now standing up to throw away the ruined lollipop, side-eyes Romance. “Ew. You’re like a hundred!”

—

It’s now been a few days, and you’ve successfully avoided any awkward situations.

There were times you’d question how they acted or… talked, but this was your first time rooming with actual idols, so maybe they were just a bit quirkier than most?

You remember last Monday, when you were heading to the art room again to check if you still had any paint in stock. One of the boys called out from the living room.

You turned and saw all of them sitting together, fiddling with the gaming consoles you hadn’t touched in months, so you didn’t really mind.

“Hey, ghostie! Can you help us with something?” Romance was the first to speak, waving with one hand while holding a controller in the other.

You glanced down, scratched your neck, then slowly took a step towards them.

It wouldn’t hurt to talk to them… right?

When you got closer, you saw them tapping buttons on the controllers—furiously.

“What does this do?” Baby asked, pointing at a button.

His question made you tilt your head slowly, rubbing your arm.

Wait… did they not know what video games were?

“It’s… uhh…” You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out.

You just stood there, fidgeting with your hands as your brain stuttered trying to find the right explanation. All of them stared at you with curious eyes, and you could feel every single one of them.

Then, a hand extended into your line of sight—holding out a controller.

You glanced up and saw Jinu. His expression was neutral, eyes steady on yours.

“Show us,” he said simply. “We’re kinda bad at understanding explanations.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He glanced at the controller again, and you stared at him before nodding slowly. You walked over to the couch where they were all seated. Jinu turned to Abby and told him to make space in the middle. The boys all shuffled over, making room for you to sit.

Jinu handed you the controller again, nodding. “So, what does it do exactly?”

You smiled slightly, then—with slightly shaky hands—powered on the console sitting on the table. A soft chime filled the room, followed by the TV screen lighting up.

You heard a few gasps.

“Woah! There’s a tiny man on the other side!” Abby exclaimed.

Another time was just earlier when they were all in the kitchen, and you were dozing off in your room—until a loud knock suddenly jolted you awake.

You immediately stood up, shaking off your drowsiness, and opened your door halfway to peek outside. That’s when you saw Abby.

“Hey, Baby wanted to know if you want to cook with us,” he said with a small smile.

Then, a voice cut in from inside the kitchen, “What?! I didn’t say anything! Don’t put words in my mouth!”

You could hear the sound of something frying, followed by scattered laughter and a few worried shouts.

“You put too much! It’s gonna burn!” Jinu yelled, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

A few mumbled replies followed, and Abby—who had turned to look in their direction—sighed and faced you again.

“So… we’re not really great at cooking,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh. “And we’re kinda unfamiliar with a few things.”

You stared at him, processing his words.

He… wanted you to go cook with them? That sounded… kind of nice.

In your head, it seemed like a good idea. It could be a chance to get to know them better—maybe even finally make some friends. You thought it through, glancing down at the floor as you felt your heart thumping in your chest.

Okay… you can do this.

Just say “sure.”

You looked up at Abby—only to jump slightly when you saw that he was already looking at you. Startled, you instinctively shook your head and slammed the door shut in his face.

Abby jumped back a bit, thankfully dodging the door just in time. He stared at the now-closed door, knocked once more, then gave up when there was no reply. He shrugged and made his way back to the kitchen, where chaos was still very much alive.

“You’re supposed to put the squid in before the water boils!”

“What kind of folktale did you read that said that?!”

“It’s my eomma’s technique!”

“Well then your eomma doesn’t know how to cook!”

They then all paused when they saw Abby return—without you.

“Aww, ghostie said no?” Romance pouted, glancing over at Abby.

“Well, we tried. Not our fault ghostie’s a cold and probably mean person,” Baby said with a shrug, turning back to Jinu, who was now chopping vegetables.

Mystery, who had been observing, tilted his head. “No… I wouldn’t say mean. Just shy.”

Romance nodded. “Yeah, not everyone is an asshole like you,” he added, throwing a look at Baby, who immediately flipped him off.

Jinu, who’d been listening to all of this, finally spoke up. “Everyone has their own pace. Don’t pressure ghostie into anything,” he said, before hurling a chopped carrot at Romance who dodged it.

As Abby made his way back over and peered into the pot, he suddenly perked up.

“Oh! Let’s bring ghostie some food later.”

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [masterlist]

🎤— yan!saja boys x fem!reader x yan!male!huntrix

— synopsis: you were never meant to be a hunter. You were supposed to be a symbol— the key to the demon gate, the girl destined to seal away darkness once and for all. But, when the power inside of you refuses to obey, you chose a different path: to fight alongside the Huntrix, the only family you've ever known.

One stage, Huntrix are stars. Off stage they are slayers of demons— and fiercely protective of the girl fate calls their weapon. Ruen, Miran, and Zio... each with their own way of watching you. Each with secrets that they'll never let you uncover. And as the gates begin to stir and a new group reveals themselves to try and bring damnation to the mortal world they become just as protective as the Huntrix over you.

As the gates begin to stir and your powers awaken in dangerous, unnatural ways, you find yourself pulled into something deeper than the prophecy.

You are the key. But to what— salvation or ruin— depends on who gets to you first.

— warning: EVENTUAL SMUT, cursing, yandere tropes, blood, killing demons, Celine, Gwi-ma lowkey being better than Celine, hatred between both boy bands, longing, we'll see if I have the ability to write angst, weapons, bad flirting, good flirting, Baby being a brat

Current status — ongoing

Additional— readers bio

[0] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

— A/n: literally just the masterlist for this story

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [pt.1]

🎤— yan!saja boys x fem!reader x yan!male!huntrix

— synopsis: you were never meant to be a hunter. You were supposed to be a symbol— the key to the demon gate, the girl destined to seal away darkness once and for all. But, when the power inside of you refuses to obey, you chose a different path: to fight alongside the Huntrix, the only family you've ever known.

One stage, Huntrix are stars. Off stage they are slayers of demons— and fiercely protective of the girl fate calls their weapon. Ruen, Miran, and Zio... each with their own way of watching you. Each with secrets that they'll never let you uncover. And as the gates begin to stir and a new group reveals themselves to try and bring damnation to the mortal world they become just as protective as the Huntrix over you.

As the gates begin to stir and your powers awaken in dangerous, unnatural ways, you find yourself pulled into something deeper than the prophecy.

You are the key. But to what- salvation or ruin— depends on who gets to you first.

— warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, cursing, yandere tropes, blood, killing demons, Celine, Gwi-ma lowkey being better than Celine, hatred between both boy bands, longing, we'll see if I have the ability to write angst, weapons, bad flirting, good flirting, Baby being a brat

—A/n: I feel like she’s long, but short at the same time. I may have rushed it at the end a bit because I was trying to get this out as SOON AS POSSIBLE. So just ignore any parts that start to gradually sped up and try to get the story moving. Enjoy!

[0] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

The elevator ride was quiet, save for the occasional ding when it would pass a floor. You were leaned up against the back wall, eyes half lidded as the concert high had worn off. Leaving you hardly awake as you shuffled to the Huntrix building.

The doors finally opened when you reached to highest level, the warmth of the home engulfing you and forcing your eyes closed even more. “Ruen,” you called, slippered feet barely lifting from the floor beneath you. “Miran, Zio. I’m back.

A shout of your name came from over the sunken couch. A man with short, black hair rushed over towards you and scooped you up into his arms. “You did so good.” Zio practically shouted in your ear as he hugged your body closer to his. “We were cheering you on the whole plane ride.”

That’s right, you thought to yourself as you hugged the boy back. Huntrix had a concert the same night as you. You gave him an extra squeeze whilst giving him a quick thank you in return. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to watch any of your performance. Honestly, I forgot you guys had a show tonight.”

Zio set you back into the ground, releasing you from his warm hug but he leaving his hands on your upper body. “Don’t say that, you have nothing to be sorry for, you’ve seen plenty of our shows to know what happens.” He reassured you, giving your shoulders a soft squeeze.

“Still…” you mutter, feeling a bit sad that you couldn’t support the boys as they had supported you.

He waved you off, taking your hand in his and leading you over to the sunken couch. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He told you, gesturing for you to sit beside him on the soft cushions. Which you happily did. “Forget about that and just relax. All of us has had a long night and deserve some unproblematic peace for a while. Don’t you agree?”

Yes, you did need some unproblematic peace. With all of the upcoming tours and events that you’ve had to go to in the past few days— and the matter of the honmoon— relaxing with your favorite boys would be perfect for you.

“You’re right,” you told him, adjusting yourself until you found the perfect spot on the couch for you to fully relax into. “We just need time to relax.”

Zio let out a loud groan, his legs and arms extending to its furthest points as he stretched on the couch. The pajama shirt he wore riding up just enough for you to see a sliver of his toned stomach beneath. “Man,” he said after a second, hand coming down to rub circles on his abdomen. “Y’know what will make this relaxing even better?”

You gave him a playful smile, already knowing what he was going to say even without him voicing it. “What?”

“Late night snacks.” He patted your knee before standing back up. The couch suddenly feeling more spacious without the man their next to you. “I’ll be right back, keep my spot warm.”

You waved him off, watching as he happily skipped towards the kitchen with the mission of food on his mind. A smile danced on your lips. It was always amazing to see the boys acting as themselves and not just some K-pop idols or hunters. Just boys with a sense of purpose in their lives.

Maybe now that you’ve caused your own ripple through the crowd, you can complete your one purpose in life: to close the barrier between our world and the demon one. Maybe now you would be able to prove yourself to the boys— to Celine. Prove to them that you are an actual hunter and not some prophicized girl that was forced to tag along with them.

Maybe now you will be able to show everyone what you are truly capable of.

Silly girl thinks just because she’s done something right for once, that she can suddenly seal the gates of hell.

A sharp pain rattled through your head. You closed your eyes, hands coming up to rub at the sudden disturbance of your— so far— peaceful night. You kneaded the skin of your forehead until the pain subsided into a soft buzz. But even then it felt as if someone was taking a needle and pricking at your brain.

What the hell was that? You thought, hands falling back down to your sides when you couldn’t force away the sudden headache. You’ve had headaches before, usually caused by writers block or long nights. But none of them have ever just come out of no where like that before.

And, you couldn’t tell between the tiredness or the sudden pain if you’d had heard something. Like a voice whispering into your ear.

Or inside your head.

The couch suddenly dipped beside you.

You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of Zio mere inches from your face with a roll of sushi dangling from a pair of wooden chopsticks

“Here, try this.”

“Oh,” you eyed the sushi that was steadily moving closer towards your mouth. “You know I’m not really hungry, right now.” You’d told him, mind still lingering on what had happened to you a second ago. “You guys should enjoy—“

“Nonsense.” He interrupted you, shoving the roll between your lips as you spoke. “You’ve had a long night, burned all your calories up on that stage. So eat up.”

Zio turned around and grabbed another roll of sushi with his chopsticks, ready to shove it into your mouth the second you finished chewing the one you’re currently eating. You lean away from the man, hand coming up to shield yourself so that you wouldn’t be force fed like a child. “Zio—“ you said around chewed sushi, your back hitting the couches armrest as he steadily crawled closer to you. “Stop it.”

His hand rested on your thigh, his upper body leaned up against your own as he pressed the roll against your lips. A playful smile graced his own as he eyed you with a look of hunger. “Open wide…”

You shoved your hand in his face, trying your hardest to push the man off of you before his entire weight was on you. He just smiled wider. Tongue darting out and kitten licking the base of your palm as he watched your face morph into disgust at the action.

Zio leaned further on you, his weight pushing you deeper into the couch cushions and trapping you beneath him. He readjusted his grip on your thigh, hand discreetly climbing higher up with every struggle you gave. His thumb dancing closer towards your inner thigh with every movement. “C’mon, pretty girl. Open that mouth of yours for me—“

“Get off her.” Miran had suddenly appeared, yanking Zio by the back of his collar. A choked noise escaping the latter as he fell back onto the couch. “She doesn’t want to be harassed by you.”

Zio let out a gasp, his hand coming up to rub where his shirt had choked him a second ago. “What the— I was not harassing her. I was taking care of her, big difference.”

The pinkette merely chuckled, placing himself between the small space that he’d made between you and his group mate. “Please, you were about to shove the sushi down her throat.” He spread his arms across the back of the couch, his hand absentmindedly going to play with a strand of your hair.

“Exactly, taking care of her.”

Miran rolled his eyes at the man, turning his head swiftly in your direction. Tonight he wore a fluffy, white robe. The tassel of the garment was tied loose yet firm around his waist as his chest teasingly peeked out from behind the soft fabric. Drops of water rolled from his neck down to the smooth expanse of his upper body. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower, with the obvious damp skin and the smell of cleanness that drifted towards your nose. And, dear god, did he look good.

The man eyed you for a second, tracing your face as if he were trying to memorize you. The person that he’d seen nearly everyday for the past fifteen years. You still wore your makeup and body glitter from your concert, but you’d changed out of your performance outfit and into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt— one that he definitely recalled belonging to at least one of the boys. His fingers, still playing with the ends of your hair, gently dug deeper. Massaging at your scalp as he watched your eyes flutter close in both tiredness and pleasure.

“How was your night?” He asked, slowly tugging you into his body so that he could better massage your head.

You hummed, leaning your head against his right shoulder as you felt his fingers work wonders on your mind. “Wonderful. It truly felt like I was connected to the crowd tonight.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Zio, who lay forgotten on the other side of Miran, leaned over and took your hand in his. Rubbing small, soothing circles on the back of your palm. “That’s great, pumpkin.”

They both watched you for a second as you gave yourself into Mirans touch. Eyes shut close and performance makeup slightly smudged, but you still looked ethereal to them.

They still remember the day that’s they’d met you, all of you were young and naive to the world around you. And yet the four of you were tasked to protect the future of our world against demons. The very beings that would lurk in the night and feast on innocent bystanders.

They remembered when Celine had told them to protect you and keep you safe from demons especially. How you were the key to here and there, and that if in the wrong hands could be used to end the world as they knew it. How they were to help you find that power inside of you and help you use it for the great or good.

They remembered protecting you from that day forward, even after you’d trained alongside them and knew how to wield a weapon they still protected with all their might.

And that protectiveness grew.

It grew to the point where they had to move you in with them when a ‘demon’ had broken into your studio apartment.

It grew to a point where after a long day, they’d imagine what it would be like to go home to you, with dinner on the table and you waiting for them by the door take care of them.

It grew to a point where they would sit outside the bathroom door while you showered and imagine what it would be like if you invited them to join you.

It grew to a point where they longed for your touch, your smell, the feel of your pajama clad body pressed against theirs the night after a bad dream.

It grew to a point where they couldn’t live to be without you even for just a few hours a day.

It grew to a point where all that was on their mind was you.

Even now, as they watched you almost drift off to sleep, the steady rise and fall of your chest along with the soft moans you would let out when Miran would gently tug at your hair. Their minds were on you. On every little thing that you did. Every breath you took, every move of your limbs, everything.

They would memorize every little thing you did and put it in the back of their minds for later. For the moments when you’d be away from them on tours or at signing events, they’d always have a part of you hidden deep within themselves.

Miran had a loving smile on his face, eyes gleaming with both gentleness and care as he placed a chaised kiss to your temple. Zio had squeezed your hand in his, feeling the warmth that radiated from your body and onto his.

They were both content to lay in these spots forever. And they would have too, if they weren’t interrupted by their last band mate.

“When’d you sneak in?” A voice chimed from above the sofa. All three of you turned to see Ruen leaned against the back of the couch, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he eyed the layout that you guys were in.

How long have they been home for them to already taken a shower and gotten ready for bed?

You hummed, nestling back into Miran’s side to try to get back the sleep you’d just escaped. “Not that long ago, maybe ten minutes or so.”

Ruen nodded his head, making his way around the couch until his sat on the armrest. He gave your knee a gentle pat as he sat beside you. Long legs draped lazily on one side, holding onto his toothbrush and occasionally brushing his teeth when the silence grew a bit too loud.

You all sat in silence once more. You nearly drifting off to sleep as Miran continued to massage your scalp. Whilst Zio and Ruen merely lounged around you, contempt to just be in your presence.

“Hey,” Ruen said softly, voice low and gravel-sweet. “How do you feel about getting out of here tomorrow?”

You hummed in response, not quite lifting your head.

“There’s that strip downtown,” he continued, lightly tapping her knee with the back of his knuckles. “Shops. Stupid tourist stuff. Good food.”

“Good dumplings.” Zio added, eyes closed, as if that were the most important selling point.

Miran exhaled a small laugh through his nose. “That bakery with the tiny cakes is down there, too.”

Ruen leaned forward, toothbrush back in his hand so that he wouldn’t drop toothpaste in your hair. “Or we could just spend the day doing nothing. Just us. What do you think?”

You finally cracked your eyes open. Gaze drifting from Zio’s soft smile to Miran’s gentle expression, then up to Ruen’s slightly raised brow.

The tightness in your chest— the one form the concert and the pressure of watched and judged— loosened a bit.

You smiled sleepily. “As long as you guys carry all my bags.”

Zio gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s a yes.”

Miran rested his chin on top of your head. “Then it’s a date.”

Ruen smiled, slow and satisfied, curved like a secret. “Tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We’ll pretend we’re normal.”

And just for that moment, it felt like they could.

“A demon boy band?”

Five men stood before the king of hell, Gwi-ma, each dressed in old robes and witchy hats. Posed dramatically as they awaited for an acceptance of their new idea to get back at the hunters.

Gwi-ma laughter echoed through the realm, followed shortly but the mimicked laughter of his demon followers. And yet, he accepted anyway.

“I know you, Jinu.” He spoke, the purple fire rising with every word said. “What is it that you wish for if you complete this mission.”

Jinu, a tall, dark haired man, who stood at the front of the group stepped forward. His head held high and mind set on one thing. “I want you to erase them. Erase the memories of my human life and I will see to it, that this mission is taken care of.”

It was silent as Gwi-ma thought over his wish, it wasn’t a hard decision. If Jinu were to complete his task then he will still have him as a demon, if he were to fail then he would be executed and another demon will try to make a deal with him.

“Very well.” He told them, his fire dancing before their eyes. “Defeat the hunters and destroy the hunmoon and I will erase all your memories that obtain your human life.”

Jinu bowed, the others following his lead. “See to it that we will defeat the hunmoon and the hunters.” A smile then played on his face as he faced the king of hell once more. “And all the souls will be yours.”

He then turned, ready to go to the human realm with his new ‘band mates’, and begin his mission when Gwi-‘ma spoke again. “One last regulation, Jinu.”

“Anything.” The man responded, eager for his wishes to be made.

“The key has started to get stronger, more powerful. I believe that soon she will be able to accomplish her prophecized duties.”

A gentle hush fell over the demon realm, every being listening close to what Gwi-ma had told them. They’d heard of the key. They were propheciezed to be the gateway between the human world and hell, to open a clear path between them and souls that they would feast on.

The very being that they needed on their side of the fight against the hunters, were allies with them.

Friends, many would argue.

And, as the fire-lord had claimed, the key was starting to awaken. The key between earth and hell, salvation and ruin, life and death.

Jinu stepped forward, his hands held out to each two demons at his sides. “What do you wish for us to do with them?”

Even though he were mere flames, they could still feel the sinister smile spreading across Gwi-ma’s face. “Find her. Help her awaken the power deep inside of herself. And when you do, get her on our side.”

The smell of cinnamon sugar lured you in like a siren.

“Just five minutes,” you’d told the boys, waving them off as you departed towards the pretzel cart, they’d promise to met you around the corner once you were finished.

You fished out a couple dollars as you joined the short line, humming to yourself whilst waiting.

It was nice to be by yourself for even just a minute or two. Having been with the boys since early morning you’ve already felt exhausted from the amounts of stores you’ve been in and running around with Zio to find the next fun activity.

As much as you loved the boys, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated from time to time when you were with them. Not that you minded— they always made you feel safe. Like a sheep caught between three fiercely overprotective wolves.

You knew they didn’t mean any harm. There was nothing wrong with showing your love to the ones you cared about.

But even then, it felt good to breath every once in a while.

The line shortened. You adjusted your disguise right as you reached the front, “One cinnamon twist, please.”

The vender handed it to you with a napkin, but before you could even pay the man—

“It’s on me.”

A hand came forward, dropping a crisp bill on the venders counter.

You blinked. Then tuned to the stranger beside you, to either thank him or question his motives, but you stopped when you saw not one but five men standing right behind you. And they were standing far too close to be accidental.

The one who’d payed— tall, composed, and sharply dressed in a baby-pink button up— gave her a polite smile that somehow felt as if it were holding a million secrets.

“Consider it a gift,” he said smoothly. “You looked like you were starving.”

You frowned slightly, adjusting the napkin around the pretzel. “I wasn’t?”

“Still took it,” pipped a younger, deeper voice from behind the first man— he had blue tinted hair and wide, mischievous eyes. “Does that mean we’re friends, now?”

You took an awkward step back, “ok… uh, thanks. I guess, for the pretzel.”

“Too late.” Another one chimed, stepping behind you before you could walk off any further. You noticed his light pink, heart shaped hair immediately. He raked his eyes over you like you were made of lyrics and temptation. “You accepted the snack. That makes you ours.”

You nearly chocked on air. “Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Said the biggest one. “Mostly.”

The fifth one, the quietest, said nothing at all. He simply watched from behind thick bangs, eyes heavy. Like he was memorizing how you stood, how you breathed.

Your heart did a small stutter. They weren’t just handsome. They were… off.

But oddly charismatic. Like they knew how to reel people in; one sweet smile at a time.

You straightened, giving a small, weak laugh. “Well, thank you, again. For the pretzel. But I have to get back to my friends.”

The dark haired man tilted his head slightly, curious. “You’re not alone?”

“No. I mean, yes— but not really. I’m with people.”

“Aww…” Another drawled, placing his hands in his knees to match your height. “And they left poor, little you all by yourself?”

You went to shake your head, to tell them that you were the one to leave your friends and that you weren’t ‘abandoned’. When the blue haired boy broke off a piece of your pretzel popped it in his mouth.

“Why-“

He let out a hum, casually breaking off another piece and eating it as if he were the one to pay for it. Despite the bewildered look you’d given him. You twisted away when he reached for another, this time he gave you an odd look.

The heart-shaped man clicked his tongue, resting his arm across your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

You paused. Mouth slowly opened… then closed.

“Doesn’t matter,” The leader, you assumed, spoke. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the five of them turned and began walking down the block— cool, coordinated, like a scene from a movie.

“We’ve got a song to sing.” The big one told you, walking backwards so that he could still be facing you. “You might want to stick around.”

“For what?” You called back.

The one with the exaggerated bangs turned around, his unknowing eyes holding onto yours with a deep intensity. “You’ll know, it’s for you.”

You stood frozen. Pretzel untouched— by you— as you watched them melt into the growing crowd.

A chill ran up your spine— not from fear, but something you couldn’t quiet name. 

You walked away from the pretzel cart, the five boys still fresh on your mind. You couldn’t explain why you kept circling back to them, it was like they had wormed their way into your brain during the five minute interaction with them.

Now, you weren’t blind, you could see that each of them were insanely attractive. Even if one of them had half their face covered. You tried to tell yourself that’s why you kept thinking about them, why you would think over every word they said and even every touch.

But you know that wasn’t it.

You could feel something deep inside your chest, something older, and colder was hidden behind those charming smiles and flirty winks.

They teased you, sure. But it hadn’t felt cruel. Just… disarming. Bold. Intimate in a way that left you reeling.

You blinked back to reality, chewing absentmindedly on your now cold pretzel as you rounded a corner.

Your feet slowed when you noticed a pair of jackets, and poor disguises— Miran was crouched low to the ground, his circular glasses gleaming from the midday sun as he squinted down an alley way. Zio stood beside him, muttering under his breath about something whilst also glancing down the alley every so often. And Ruen… was on the pavement. Not flat-out but he was bracing himself with one arm, sitting up slowly as if he couldn’t belief how he’d gotten down them.

“Ruen?” You immediately rushed forward, pretzel forgotten in hand as you crouched beside the purple haired man. “What happened? Are you alright?”

All three boys stiffened, then instantly relaxed when they saw you.

Zio was the first to speak, offering you a wide, boyish grin as he did so. “Nothing serious. He just tripped.”

“I didn’t trip.” Ruen muttered, a light shade of pink coating his cheeks.

Miran stood, face unreadable. “Guy in a hurry ran into him. Must’ve been blind or something.”

You frowned. “Well… do you need anything. Should I go—“

“No.” Ruen cut in. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

You didn’t buy it. Not for a second.

Not with the way Zio kept glancing down the street or how Miran was a bit too quiet, like he was plotting something diabolical. And especially how Ruen looked nearly embarrassed to be sitting on the dirty ground, and for some reason wasn’t getting up.

But the way they looked at you— carefully, neutral, like they were hiding something to protect you— made her chest ache. Today was supposed to be light. Easy. Just one good day before everything turned to chaos again.

So you nodded and knelt beside Ruen anyway, offering your free hand as you helped hoist him off the ground. “You’re such a liar.” You whispered in his ear.

Ruen merely chuckled, his eyes drifting to your other hand where your forgotten pretzel was. “Mind if I have a bite?” He asked, hopping to get past what had happened earlier.

You blinked down at it, suddenly remembering its existence. “Yeah… forgot I had it.”

Just as Ruen had grabbed the cinnamon twist, a beat echoed through the street.

Not a regular street performer kind of beat— no, this was calculated. Slick. Sexy.

Like a bassline wrapped in honey and sin

The four of you turned.

The streets were buzzing— a small crowd forming as music starts to echo a bit louder from down the block.

Each boy perked up at the noise, it was often that some form of music would be playing from the local convent store— but never this loud, never this upbeat and hypnotic either.

They tensed, sensing something off. Miran especially noticed the shift in the atmosphere, while Zio’s smile faded a little.

“C’mon.” Ruen had said whilst he gripped your arm, tugging you alongside him as he went towards the ‘feel good’ music. The others trailing behind him. The music grew louder along with the crowd. A couple hundred, or so, people gathered around the small square as you could see pink smoke puff out.

Zio appeared at your side, his body leaned against yours as he watched the smoke clear out and voices start to sing along to the music. “A new group?” He thought aloud, glancing at you and his band mates for other possible ideas.

“Maybe, but if they are, why are they debuting in the middle of the street?” You’d asked them, many K-pop groups debuted here in Seoul, but you’ve only seen it on Tv. Not in the middle of the park.

Miran shrugged his shoulders, “Guess they are doing what it takes to get noticed.”

“It’s a bit much.” Ruen muttered under his breath.

You lifted your head to try and see the ‘new group’ , curious who it was that had captured the crowds attention and apparently yours and the boys as well. You gently pushed through the crowd, slowly getting closer towards the front, before you stopped completely in shock.

You recognized the five singers dancing and singing to the catchy tune. Five singers that you’d met no more than ten minutes ago, and had yet to find out their names.

“No way,” you muttered, watching almost hypnotically as the boys moved in sync with one another.

Their choreography was smooth and tight, effortlessly seductive, like the side walk had turned into a stage just for them.

They sang like they knew exactly who was watching.

And when their gazes swept over the crowd— just for a second— every one of them landed on you.

You suddenly recalled what’s they had told you back at the pretzel vender, about have to go sing a song and for you to stick around because the song was for you.

Though, you were unsure how a song about soda was relevant to you.

“Those dicks, are idols?” Miran chimed, snapping you out of your small trance.

You turned to the man, noticing that all three were staring intently at the five boys and that their disguises were pulled tighter around their faces. “You know them?”

Each boy gave a different response. Claiming that they’d ran into them, that they’ve never seen them before or just simply saying no.

The longer you watched, Zio’s shoulders began to move to the beat, as did Ruen’s despite his lack of excitement for the boy group. You even swayed to music once or twice, enjoying the catchy lyrics and synchronized choreography.

You had to admit that it was a good song to get some attention from a crowd.

Faintly, like it was a play against the light, you saw something move across their skin. Something you’ve come to recognize rather quickly; it was purple, quick and a pattern.

A demon pattern.

And you could feel the other boys breath catch in their throats when they notice it too.

And then it hit you. A spike— like a shard of glass behind your left eye.

“Ah-“ you gasped, elbow accidentally bumping into the stranger beside you as your hand flew up to your temple.

Zio’s head whipped in your direction, he called out your name in concern.

Miran came to your side, blocking your from the angry stranger you had just hit. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—“ you shut your eyes, vision slightly dimming a round the edges. “I’m fine. It’s just my head, is all.”

Ruen took your arm again, your pretzel long gone as he rested both his hands on your shoulders. “Are you dizzy? Do we need to grab you something to…”

His voice drowned out. In fact everything seemed to fade out of hearing; the music, the crowd of fans, your boys. Everything seemed to be silenced, all except for a single voice.

It was distant. Echoing. Like it came from the deepest part of a dream. And it was obvious that you were the only one to hear it.

It was your name.

Barely audible.

And yet it dragged something through your gut like a hook through flesh. Your breath became short. Heart pounding too fast.

You remembered the voice. You’d been on the couch last night when it had spoken to you, you thought it was just apart of your imagination. That you were just so tired that you had become schizophrenic.

They are not yours. And you are not theirs.

The voice again, louder. A bit muffled, like it came from underwater. But unmistakably ancient. Not cruel. Not kind. But something in between.

It made your knees buckle.

“I think I need to sit down.” You managed, albeit a bit breathless.

Miran pushed your hair back, feeling your skin for any sign of a fever. “You starting to burn up.” He said, voice low but tight. “What the hell is going on?”

“She was fine a second ago,” Zio muttered. “Until they started to perform.”

Ruen looked toward the five boys, jaw clenched. “It’s them. They’re doing something.”

“No—“ you tried to say, but the pain laced again, the voice surged louder for a heartbeat—

You’re starting to awaken, little key. But do you know what lock you’ll open first?”

— and then it vanished.

Everything came back louder than before. The crowd, the music, the boys worrying comments. Just like that, the pressure ebbed. Not gone, but dulled. Like whatever had been crawling at the inside of your skull had taken a step back.

Your breathing slowed. Body slightly trembled.

“I think I’m fine, now.” You told the boys, trying to reassure them even if you weren’t reassured yourself.

But Ruen was already watching the boys with narrowed eyes, the only thought that was running through his mind was to get rid of these demons before they could cause anymore damage.

Zio brushed his thumb against your cheek, turning your head gently to face him. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” He said softly. “But stay close to us.”

Mira a jaw ticked. “If they try anything else, we don’t wait.”

You glanced back to the makeshift stage. The boys were still dancing, still smiling. But now, their gazes were sharper. More focused. Like they knew.

Something inside of you twisted.

Whatever this performance was… it was just the beginning.

A/a/n: As I said some parts may be a bit rushed by I was trying to get this out for everyone. Also let me know if I missed you in the tag list or if you want to be added ;)

Tag list:

@moonjellyfishie

@gremlinartstudio

@creativecupcake

@rorotvt2025

@perfectlywingedflower

@aerissblog

@a-cozy-little-home

@thestardeli

@zomqiez

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

what if we were a demon boy band and we all ran like goofy guys? haha jk...unless? 🤔

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

✦•·.·¯˚·.·• 𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑱𝑬𝑪𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬!!  •·.·˚¯·.·•✦

Okay, okay! So, I’ve been dying to share this with you guys! If you’ve ever played dating sims or otome games, you already know the thrill… and now I’m bringing that romance energy right here to Tumblr. That's right! I made my own Tumblr-style choose your own adventure smut edition, and you get to play it with me! 😏💕

Here’s how it works:

Every Wednesday, I’ll post a story update + a poll where you’ll vote on what happens next. The majority vote wins, and the story continues based on your choices.

But wait!!! There’s a twist! 😈

It’s the Saja Boys (of course)

It’s smutty as hell (come on, it’s me)

You get FIVE LIVES—yes, five!

Every choice matters. Every vote matters. Each one could lead to a good ending or a tragic bad ending. When you hit a bad end, you’ll lose a life. You can retry a scene, but only while you still have lives left.

And listen carefully, sweet sinners:

Once those five lives are gone? That’s it. No redo. No second wind.

The story ends.

The paths you didn’t unlock? Gone.

The spicy endings you missed? Lost forever to the wind.

And honestly? I live for that kind of high-stakes drama. I thrive in it. I am the devil, after all. 😈💋

This is collaborative project, and I want you to shape the story. Your decisions do matter, and that should make your heart go a little doki-doki, right? 💖

First post goes live on Wednesday at noon EST!

Love ya’ll! 💋

Vexi

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