#{ Hi! ^^ I hope you don't mind this! x }

[technically-human]

Ooh, now that we’ve seen N!Edwin and DP!Edwin talk about Feelings could we see the same with N!Charles and DP!Charles?

As simple as that.

Edwins version

ko-fi

[pigeonstab]

@wickjump your Crepic M'am. I'll let you come up with what they're saying..

[jackalopc]

What do you do when the proverbial prince of gotham throws a couple grand worth of fine liquor on one of the most powerful crime bosses in the city and leaves the party? You follow him out and introduce yourself, of course.

inspired by this post by @bruciemilf including their fancast for harvey because um obviously it's perfect (and also a fair bit of influence from the a wild battinson series by @emo-batboy because i'm obsessed with it and it's canon in my heart).

UPDATE: NOW POSTED ON AO3 TOO, you can find it here!

It's early autumn; which means it's the start of the rainy season in Gotham (or rather more rain) and of Harvey's latest semester at Gotham University (GothU, affectionately). Harvey isn't entirely sure how he ended up at this shindig, if he's being honest, and the person who even invited him as his plus one has vanished. He's in law school but he's still only in pre-law, he hasn't even made a name for himself yet as some sort of future threat.

(It's still early enough that about 50% of students he's going through with are still starry eyed and haven't entirely given up on the idea of making Gotham a better place.)

The weird intersection of various gangs, businessmen, politicians (corrupt or otherwise), and local celebs is there on full display; and Harvey just wants to get the fuck out of there, but he has no idea where his ride is and frankly he's a broke law student he does not have the money for a cab all the way back into central Gotham from where they are.

But then, something catches his eye-- or rather, someone:

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne had recently crossed the threshold into being the richest man in the world (just surpassing the much older Lex Luthor), with the biggest company in the world (again surpassing Luthor's own corporation), and the closest thing Gotham has to true and actual royalty.

The same Bruce Wayne that was also in two of Harvey's classes this semester at GothU for reasons he did not understand.

Harvey is admittedly, briefly entranced. Sure they share classes and like him, Bruce attends every single one, but Harvey is pretty sure he's never been this close to the man still (or maybe it just feels closer compared to the large university lecture halls). Heads turn whenever and wherever Bruce goes; and it wasn't just because he was so unfathomably rich or because nearly all of Gotham was protective of the young man. From adorable child, to cute (if sullen) pre-teen, and now into an attractive (if sullen) young man-- Bruce was hot. Sure, in a kinda funky have we confirmed he's not a Victorian vampire way but honestly maybe it was just the classical Gotham influence that made him read that way.

Harvey, even in his trance, can tell that Bruce Wayne looks uncomfortable. He can't tell if it's the social interaction or the people he's surrounded by, but either way Bruce didn't look happy to be there really. Harvey can't help but find himself compelled to watch the billionaire, because he knew the public reputation of Bruce Wayne (generous to a fault, prince of gotham but king of social anxiety and awkwardness, person you could trust to leave your small children around); but what was he like at these weird little parties where it was almost all folks who were deeply corrupt and entrenched? Was it all just a persona? Would he start doing that weird haughty laugh a lot of these other rich fucks seemed to do?

Harvey was still one of those starry-eyed pre-law students, he wanted to make a real and lasting change in this godforsaken city. Bruce Wayne held the most power and influence here. Would he be an potential ally, or Harvey's biggest obstacle?

A figure was suavely bee-lining towards Bruce, the crowd parting way for him. Harvey didn't see who the person was until they stopped before the prince, and Harvey nearly dropped the expensive, crystal glass in his hand. Carmine Falcone. Not one of his lieutenants, not some people just associated with the crime boss, no. Falcone himself. Christ, what did I get dragged into? I'll pay another semester worth of tuition if it gets me outta here--

"Bruce, my dear boy! I'm soo glad you decided to join us," Falcone practically croons, and approaches with two glasses in hand. Harvey thinks he see's a slight twitch to Bruce's eye, but the man's expression doesn't change really even with the man's arrival. Falcone pushes the fresh glass of alcohol into Bruce's hand, then swiftly and smoothly wraps a long arm around Bruce's shoulders.

Harvey watches as Bruce looks from the glass, as if trying to determine it's contents then up to Falcone, eyebrow slowly arching. Harvey can't hear everything, the crowd just barely too loud. But Falcone starts steering Bruce further into the party. Right, I need to stop gawking and find my ride--

Harvey gulps down the last of his drink, though the taste makes him want to gag. Maybe he's just not sophisticated yet enough to appreciate the morbidly expensive alcohol. He hastily sets the glass down on the nearest passing waiter's tray, and starts to look for his ride.

The search brings him closer to Falcone, which isn't thrilling, but necessary in order to sweep the room. Harvey mentally swears because the place is huge and he's probably going to have to go room by room and--

"-- my boy, just think of the potential!" Falcone's voice floats so easily over the crowd, and the guy makes Harvey's skin crawl but even he has to admit the man has his own weird ass charisma. Harvey's attention is drawn back, involuntarily, to the crime boss and Bruce Wayne. The younger man hasn't touched his drink, if Harvey had to guess; and Falcone is staying practically plastered to his side. The younger man looks so so uncomfortable and frustrated? Annoyed? Mad? It's hard for Harvey to place, because somehow Bruce Wayne also continues to look sullen and exhausted.

The crowd around Falcone is a delicate balance of men and women clearly are comfortable around him; and people who were trying to find a way to get near while not incur the wrath of his many bodyguards. Then there was Harvey, who wants nothing to do with anyone here thankyouverymuch. Harvey scans the area one last time, not finding his so-called friend; his eyes land briefly at Bruce again before he starts to turn.

"-- I mean... you're father--" Falcone can't finish his sentence and Harvey turns back just in time to see Bruce Wayne splash the insanely expensive alcohol directly into Falcone's face.

Besides a few gasps, it goes quiet in the immediate area and quickly radiates out. Everyone is shocked, including Harvey, but he also is amazed byt he sight of Bruce. He looks as unimpressed by Falcone as he is angered. Bruce says nothing, and Harvey watches as he turns on his heel and starts calmly leaving; politely placing his glass on a waitresses tray on his way out.

Harvey has no idea what compels him to do so, but he follows the billionaire out.

"Wayne! Mr. Wayne!" Harvey calls as he jogs to catch up; the man has a surprisingly fast pace and while a crowd will part for the prince, it's not about to make way for some punk pre-law student they don't even know the name of.

Bruce Wayne stops, steps away from the gleaming black car that's running. His famous butler by his side, umbrella open above their heads.

Both men look to Harvey, curious and expecting, as he skids to a stop. Harvey realizes he didn't think far enough ahead, and swallows thickly. Thankfully though, Bruce speaks first.

"Harvey, Right? Harvey Dent?" Bruce says and Harvey blinks.

"You- wait, you know who I am?"

"Sure," Bruce says easily, like his name is worth remembering to a man like him. The rain is still falling, steadily and soaking Harvey. "You're the only one saying stuff worth listening to in those classes," he adds.

Harvey blinks, and he's glad the light is shit in the overcast weather, because his face warms at the acknowledgement. "Oh..."

"I didn't expect you at a place like this," Bruce says, voice curious as he watches Harvey closely in a way that makes him want to squirm a little under the scrutiny. It's not malicious feeling, though--- Harvey thinks it seems more curious, than anything.

"My friend dragged me here, didn't tell me what was going on..." Harvey admits.

Alfred leans in and whispers something to Bruce. Bruce nods, not taking his eyes off Harvey. "Would you like a ride home, Mr. Dent?" Alfred asks.

They don't go directly to Harvey's place, and Alfred doesn't even drop Bruce off first. Instead--

"Bat Burger?" Bruce asks, as he settles fully into the seat next to Harvey. "I'm starving."

"Oh! Uh, sure?" Harvey blinks, and then looks down as Bruce pulls out a towel of all things, from-- somewhere? and offers it to him. Harvey takes it, starting to dry off how best he can.

"Alfred?"

"Of course, sir," Alfred says easily from the driver seat ahead. "So, what glorious exit did you make this time, Master Bruce?"

Bruce makes a strangled noise, scoffing. "Who says I did anything?" He replies, and Harvey stifles a laugh-- not because of the denial so much as the billionaire sounds like a kid trying to hide the mess he just made.

Harvey can see in the rear view mirror Alfred raise an eyebrow.

"He threw his very expensive drink in Falcone's face," he provides and Bruce sends him a scowl but it has no bite and he's even smiling a little.

"Oh, Bruce, really?" Alfred chides like an exhausted parent.

"Don't worry, it was expensive, not good," Bruce says in his defense; and Harvey laughs.

to be continued? maybe? IDEK.

[ccycloneblogging]

Thank you to everyone who submitted a suggestion! I actually had more people asking for various fandoms - unfortunately I struggled drawing some of those characters, but I do appreciate everyone's suggestions!

So! Here's Bobby x Hoppy, DogDay x CatNap, DogDay x Craftycorn, and then my choice - DogDay dealing with multiple crushes.

[yayll]

Hi!! It’s my first time requesting something so I dont know how that works.. um I was thinking of some mission like some kind of ball that dazai and y/n has to go and y/n has to seduce someone to get information out of them. You know those masquerade balls? Yeah I think that really goood!! And dazai gets sooooooooo jealous and after she got the information dazai kiss her infront of that person to show him that she’s his😭😭😭😭😭😭omg

HIII angel sorry this took me a while, but i hope you like it :') i tweaked your idea a lil and fingers crossed this is what you so graciously asked for. i tried to put my best jealous goofy ass dazai in there along with the absolute MUSH his brain turns into when he has you to himself mixed with a lil........ fucked in the headness. i love requests! this was soooo fun to write i love youuuuuu <3

~ a little something about Dazai and his uncharacteristic jealousy ~

"Osamu, come on... You're my only sweetheart, you know that."

You call out half sweetly and half out of breath as you follow him down the hallway of the lavish event you were currently attending, dressed to the nines and trying to remain undercover. You were coming to realize why people didn't date within the workplace as he walked ahead, grumbling to himself. He's trying to remain unfazed, pretending to still be upset as he shrugs with his back turned to you.

"Hmph. I dunno, I don't feel like I'm your 'sweet' anything..."

This causes you to roll your eyes affectionately and pick up the pace, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder to finally stop him in his tracks. You flash him a sincere smile, and speak softly.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that. I didn't know that asshole was going to kiss me after he let me go. I also didn't think you'd ever get jealous..."

You say that last part with a more playful tone, treading dangerous waters of your unpredictable lover's emotions. As expected, he sighs dramatically, casting you a look of disgust.

"Ugh, of course I'm not... That's honestly sooo lame and pathetic. I can entertain jealousy as much as I can entertain one of Kunikida's little speeches on morals, or whatever."

"You mean his 'ideals'?"

You chide, stifling a laugh. He glares at you, his eyes narrowing as he scans you for a moment.

He can't find a single flaw on that precious face, not a single stray hair or stain on your exquisite outfit. He should change that by the end of the night.

"... You're always so negative, correcting me and whatnot. Isn't it tiring being so irritatingly superior in every way?"

This one gets a laugh out of you, You can tell he's slowly lightening up his mood by the way you both begin walking side by side once again.

"Yeah well, if it weren't for that little kiss earlier, we'd both still be all tied up in the wine cellar of this wonderful party."

He flashes you a pout, and shrugs dismissively.

"And here I thought you of all people would like the idea of being tied up with me. Hmph, wrong partner, I suppose."

Now he was starting to pick back at you, though it was cute. Jealousy looked cute on him, it was something you didn't think he was capable of. It was a pity it had to be during a mission where your main asset was your seduction skills and his was mental instability. You hated every second of it, but you also wanted to make sure you both made it out with the secret intel alive.

You make your way into the grand ballroom, the gala is in full swing, and your eyes dart around to find a proper escape route. Just as you see an exit, a handsome and well dressed young man blocks your view, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. You're gorgeous. Care for a dance?"

You stare down at his hand and then back up at the stranger, your face flushing as you're caught off guard.

"Me? No, no I-"

Dazai immediately interjects, sloppily holding a glass of champagne that somehow manifested in his hand and pretends to be drunk. He loved his theatrics, especially when he was desperate.

He bumps harshly into the young man's shoulder, the alcohol sloshing out of the cup as he slurs, but not before he flashes you a wink to tell you to play along.

"Sooo sorry, pardon me. This indeed beautiful angel is quite busy you see... Taking care of me that is. Ooh, I'm a wreck! I'm nothing but a sad and lonely dog.. In this sad and lonely world-"

The man looks at Dazai skeptically, and huffs into a chuckle. He shoves him away, and turns his attention back to you. Your eyes dart nervously between the two, wondering what Dazai will do next.

"Shut it, clown.. Anyway, I think this further proves you should be in the company of a gentleman like me tonight rather than this wet mop-"

The sound of a champagne flute soaring through the air and connecting to the man's skull is suddenly heard, interrupting him and sending him falling to the ground along with broken glass and liquid everywhere. In one swift motion, Dazai is at your side with a premature victorious smirk, but before you can both be on your way, the man regains his posture and spins him around, punching him square in the face. Dazai's not scrawny or weak, but he isn't the most skilled fighter, relying mostly on his special ability and intelligence to get him out of things.

You gasp, instinctively grabbing Dazai by the collar of his suit and dragging him away to get lost in the crowd of concerned people. You finally make it outside and you both collapse onto the soft grass just outside the venue. It's decorated with all kinds of flowers and fragrant rose bushes, it almost looks like you're at the garden of Versailles. You look over at Dazai, his nose bleeding all over the place, but he looks completely unbothered by it. As you reach over to touch the bridge of his nose, he grabs your wrist and holds it away gently. He waves a finger at you.

"No touchy, I've got it."

He does not, in fact, got it. He looks around until he plucks a rose petal and uses it to wipe his nostrils. You frown, getting all up in his space within an instant.

"What on earth are you doing, Osamu? Let me help, you goofball. Your nose is a mess thanks to that stunt you pulled."

You tear off a bit of fabric from your outfit and dab his skin tenderly, holding his head on your lap now. You can see some blood has trailed down his neck, staining the bandages there along with the collar of his crisp white dress shirt you picked out for him this morning. Dazai perks up, his voice slightly strained but full of lightheartedness.

"How does it feel to work with the agency's most tactical and covert operative? Eh?~"

You bite back a smile, and shake your head. You murmur.

"Feels like he's asking for a death wish a little more than usual."

Your lips soon become a thin line, realizing your statement hurts a little more in the context of the situation than it usually would. He notices your mood shift as his eyes flicker from your concerned eyes down to your lips and back up again. He knows it hurts you when he's like this, reckless and acting out on the impulses of his own plans. He wants to sit up and close the gap between you, kiss you until you drop down those brave walls you're putting up for the sake of the mission. For the sake of your feelings for him. He knows he's careless with it all.

He hums, eyes trained on you as if burning the image of your heavenly self into his mind, where you always deserve to be. In the distance, a bulky sketchy looking man runs out of the venue frantically, looking around wildly and you both get the impression it's the guy from the cellar earlier who kissed you in exchange for your freedom.

Shit! You could have sworn you knocked him out cold. Dazai sits up from your lap and you two scoot more into the bush, trying to hide from him as he makes a call. You mutter under your breath, turning to Dazai as you begin to type something out on your communicator.

"Now's the perfect time to let the others know we're ready for extraction."

He's already looking at you, or gazing admiringly more like. He knows he can fuck up everything, pay any consequence, but the thing he needs to get right for the selfishness of his wretched little heart is you. He scoots a bit closer, hearing the sounds of both your shallow breaths harmonizing. He mutters, softly.

"It would also be the perfect time for you to kiss my face better. You know, for my wellness and all that. Besides, that guy wasn't very nice to us earlier and we need to get rid of any traces of him from those lips. Yuck."

You roll your eyes yet again, despite the fluttering that won't let your stomach rest.

"Who cares about that, we have a case to close first."

He smirks, voice dropping low and provocative.

"I care."

He leans in even further, practically caging you with both arms on either side of you. He can feel your breathing become more erratic, his own filled with a pathetic sense of need he always has when he's with you. Dazai's hand reaches out and grabs your chin, turning it up slightly to face him, making sure you drop this silly act once and for all. His voice comes out gentle, firm.

"I need you to physically push me away, or I swear I'm going to kiss you right now, cutie."

Your eyes widen as you let a shaky breath escape your plush lips, murmuring in return.

"I'll.. punch you in the nose again, you know..."

His hand moves from your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he takes another breath, his body aching to be as close to yours as possible. His eyes are fixed on you, tearing you apart right then and there, but not before putting you back together so nicely. In that moment, he knows you don't mean that, and he knows he can't resist anymore.

He then whispers with a finality, the anticipation torturing him like you do on a daily basis.

"I don't think I'm going to listen to that..."

You break into a faint smile as you perceive him back.

"You've still got a little blood on your-"

Without another word, Dazai closes the remaining distance between you and him, kissing you with fervor as his soft whines reverberate against your lips. You taste sweetness and then... metallic as your lips mesh together for a heavenly moment. He feels alive, this was what he needed, the soothing balm for his soul and any other wound only you could provide. He's like a vampire, a parasite leeching off of your very essence so he could be himself around you. Cowardly burrowing into the safety of your heart. You squirm just a tad, your fingers carding through his brown hair as you try to keep up. He pulls back after his nose can't push more air through and keeps his lips hovering over yours, feeling the heat from your mouth mingle with his as he sees your lips stained red with his blood. Just as he's going to comment on how disgustingly erotic it is to see you like that, he pushes away the indecent thoughts, using the bandage on his wrist to wipe your mouth instead.

"Okay, I'll be good for now. You can call for extraction.~"

It was a dumb thing to do and could be seen as him being territorial or jealous, but the reality of it was that it was the natural order of things when it came to the way he processed his affections. Someone gets in between the two of you in any way?

An uglier and more dangerous past version of himself would have called for an immediate execution, there was a reason he held the titles that he did. He did his very best to keep that mentality at bay, rebuking it every time he felt a dark urge that he felt needed to be dealt with, mostly for your sake and for the sake of the promise he made to a friend once. Though he can't lie and say that's not who he is anymore, he can always find a better way to get his point across... even if a wishful bullet to the head comes out in the form of a kiss on your precious lips. He'll try for you. He'll wear the fastidious label proudly and be Dazai, a jealous man.

[painom]

Hello! Can I just say that I really appreciate you doing this? I've always been a big fan of your analyses and your ability to get to the root of the characters. Thank you for continuing to let us read your wonderful thoughts and stories.

On your old blog, you discussed your headcannons for Lyney, one being his tendency to forget things like where he put his wallet because him and his mind are very busy. Unfortunately, I didn't save the post (my biggest regret ahhhhh!) and I would love to read your analysis once more. If it's okay with you, could you go over your headcannons for Lyney again? The old, the new, whatever's on your mind and whatever you're willing to share. Thank you so much!

Thank you for the kind ask, anon! Here you go!

New Lyney Headcanons

Self-focused - Though he never seems like it, those that know Lyney well know that he’s often running low on sleep. And really, he has no one to blame but himself. During the day he’s often distracted with magic shows, helping people, little tasks around the hotel, running missions for Father, and much more. And at night? He can often be found alone in his room planning new tricks, arranging missions for his siblings, studying to become the next “king” of the House, and things of the sort. If Lynette and Freminet didn’t keep an eye on him, no doubt he would stay up the whole night if given the chance! Those two welcome all the help they can get. 

Relationship-focused - When it comes to his relationship with you, Lyney never lies. You know he would never do that to you. And sometimes, the knowledge almost lulls you into a false sense of security. Yet you know better. You’re smarter than that. Where Lyney doesn’t lie, he omits. Half-truths so easily fall from his mouth as drops of rain from the sky. Your comments of concern are often brushed off and your questions redirected. As much as you try, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you to know. He doesn’t want you to shoulder his burdens with him. 

old lyney headcanons below!

Would Lyney be honest with you?

With his outgoing and fun personality, it oftentimes is easy to get caught within his flow. Lyney is the charming sort, after all, that one may very well forget that he is subject to the same struggles as the rest. Get to know him well enough, though, and you will quickly realize that this is not a fact he wishes others to know. More than a desire, he needs to be seen as someone in control, as someone without weakness. That’s his role as the big brother. And if that means lying, avoiding, and omitting the truth to accomplish it, then an accomplished performer like himself will do what he must. 

Does Lyney prefer to pursue or be pursued?

With a penchant for flair and dramatics, it’s clear to see Lyney prefers to pursue the people he’s interested in. Really, it’s one of the things he goes all out. With a trick up his sleeve, he won’t hesitate to dazzle you with flowers pulled from nowhere and fireworks from his tophat. He wants you to be enchanted. He wants you to be impressed! You are, aren’t you? You like it, don’t you? So focused on charming you that he often loses sight of much else. Fun fact, should you attempt to turn the tables, however, you can expect his mask of self-confidence to fall to reveal a rather flustered expression beneath. 

Headcanons

Self-focused - If there’s one thing that’s true about Lyney, it is that he is a very busy person. As a person with multiple masks and roles, his thoughts are often preoccupied with House missions, performances, new tricks, and things of the like. So, much to the dismay of others, it’s easy for things to become buried under the multitude of other tasks he needs to take care of. How often the simple things become forgotten—where he last left his wallet, tea time with his siblings, the sale on storybooks at the bookstore. During those times, he really can’t help but appreciate his siblings and their ability to keep him on track. Really, he doesn’t know what he’d do without them!

Relationship-focused - It doesn’t hit you at first, but it doesn’t take you very long to notice how hard Lyney tries for your relationship. Normally this would be a good thing, but it is different with Lyney. Every day he tries to charm you. Every day he attempts to enchant you. You tell him he doesn’t need to try so hard, but that only seems to light a fire beneath him to do even more. You see it in his eyes. He needs to know you are still in awe of him, that you like him as much as he does you. And then it sinks in, doesn’t it? He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust your feelings for him. He’ll never show his true face to you.

old tags for this post: #okay let’s talk lyney for a bit i think the biggest thing to know about lyney is that at his core he is an insecure person insecure and anxious #imo he’s extremely attached to his title of ‘big brother’ that he needs to fulfill the duties if such he needs to protect his siblings and be a person others can rely on #this belief is so strong that he refuses to rely on arlecchino for help and snaps at freminet for trying to get him to open up #he really cares about the way he’s perceived #remember when the traveler found out he’s part of the fatui and he spends his time bending over backwards to try to get them to trust him ‘like me! like me! please. i’m trustworthy i’ll never lie to you please!!’ #honestly imo that’s just one if his faults like lyney is unstable #idk what possessed arlecchino to make him her successor like he’d crack under pressure #lynette is a way better option #but anyway bc of these things he would not trust his partner in a relationship #he wouldn’t rely on them he’d never feel secure which would prompt him to keep trying too hard to ensure he’s still the person he thinks you fell in love with #the most important thing to remember with lyney is that he is a performer and the face he shows to the world is essentially a mask

What’s Lyney’s breaking point in a relationship?

It’s hard to imagine, really. With how much Lyney may seem in love, the idea there’s a point a relationship would be too much for him is hard to believe. But when you really think about it, his breaking point is simple. As strong as his feelings may be for you, his devotion to his family and its cause outweighs everything else. Should your relationship with him ever reach a time where it encroaches upon that which is the most precious to him, then there’s nothing more he can do than let you go.

old tags for this post: #i think the key thing to take in here is that lyney cannot function without his family he is extremely reliant upon them to the extent that he will become unstable without them #just look at the archon quest when wriothesley captured his siblings any and all logic completely went out the window #lyney is an anxious insecure mess and the only thing that holds him together is playing the role he has to as big brother #if your relationship with him ever reaches the point that you transcend into being counted as his family.... he will have no breaking point #the breaking point will be his mind or body. whichever breaks first

[ceeridwen99]

Qyunn appraised him with the softest smile Astarion had ever known. “My dearest, I would wait until the last star in the Astral Sea burnt out for you. I don’t care if we’re ever intimate, so long as I can hold you in my arms and call you mine.”

Astarion returned his smile. “I wouldn’t mind a few kisses thrown in there as well,” he said.

Qyunn chuckled. “Well then my dearest heart, can I kiss you?”

Astarion’s smile widened. “Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”

[danwhobrowses]

Well another week of Tal and Ashley putting Callowmoore through the emotional ringer. I'm kinda okay with where it's at right now (okay less kinda but I can still see an end goal for them), of course it wasn't the most ideal direction I thought up in my head but it rarely ever is. There's time, there's room, and maybe in 2 3 (again guys? mental torment for 3 again?) weeks time - because no show on Thanksgiving and then Candela Obscura - Tal and Ashley will pull the trigger and not leave me an anxious mess like they have the last month and a half every Friday Morning when I have to work XD

[idliketobeatree]

Aziraphale having both a Derringer and an arms licence tell me that in the Wild West flashback we didn't get he'd be the one to go oh dear, I rather think there can be only one cowboy in this town :) *pats his belt*

and Crowley would just hey lemme see what ya have....... A Gun? NO

[ashleyreyland]

Daniel Fenton's ability to get into trouble was unmatched by any other. And the worst part was, he wasn't even doing anything obvious to get into the trouble other than happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Normally, Damian wouldn't care about such things, but he had been benched (totally unfairly in his opinion) by his father for the week and, well, if he just happened to be there when bad things happened, he couldn't be found at fault.

Thus Plan F (for Fenton) came into existence.

If Damian just stayed close to the Fenton boy, then he'd surely wind up in some absurd situation again and Damian would be right in the middle of it with him. And in order to stay close to him, he had to (ugh) befriend him. Which was proving harder than Damian had originally assumed it would be if the suspicious and sometimes concerned looks Fenton would throw his way every time Damian came up to him was anything to go by.

Damian supposed that if their situation was reversed, that he would also be suspicious of the other, but it was making his plan needlessly difficult.

"Fenton," he said as he caught up to the taller boy in the hallway, much to the other's resignation, "Shall we go to lunch?"

"I guess," Fenton replied, warily, as he headed toward the cafeteria. He shifted his bag a bit as he walked and Damian tried to come up with something for them to discuss over lunch.

They didn't make it that far, however, before the school alarms started going off.

"Oh no," Fenton said under his breath as he looked around for the source of the alarm, backing up so that his back was against the lockers.

Damian followed suit, not planning on going anywhere that Fenton didn't and honestly not sure which way would be the safe way for them to go anyway.

"You should run," Fenton said to Damian, oddly calm given the current unknown situation. Damian looked at him and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Where, Fenton? We don't even know which direction the threat is coming from. And why would I run if you are not?"

Fenton gave him an unamused look before looking around again, "Fine, we'll both run. Into the classroom across from us. That's our safest bet."

Damian gave a reluctant nod and grabbed Fenton's elbow before dragging him across the hallway to the classroom. It was empty, but the door was unlocked so they both slipped inside and stood to the side of the door. Damian peered out through the glass window of the door. So far there was nothing to see, but he doubted that it would last.

Sure enough, not even a few minutes had passed before there was someone walking by their door; someone far too tall to be a student and who wasn't using the all clear code phrase the teachers were taught to use once the threat had passed.

Damian felt Fenton tense up next to him and Damian turned, fully ready to silence the other if he was about to have a panic attack, before he realized that Fenton was looking at something on the floor. Damian followed his line of sight and bit back a curse at the fumes that seemed to be curling up under the door.

Damian quickly pulled his rebreather from his bag and went to place it on his face before he realized that Fenton hadn't moved to do the same. Damian tugged on his arm to get his attention and gestured toward his own rebreather. Fenton gave a shrug in response and Damian did curse under his breath before putting his own rebreather on Fenton.

He was well trained; he could handle whatever type of gas it was that was slowly filling the room.

That was the last thought that Damian had before everything went dark and he collapsed to the floor.

~~~~~~

Danny found himself in quite the situation this time.

First, Damian Wayne decided out of literally nowhere that he was going to be Danny's friend. Normally Danny wouldn't be wary of such things but, well, he wasn't exactly what one could call popular at Gotham Academy. And for Damian of all people to suddenly take an interest in him? It raised some red flags.

Especially because there was something about Damian that made him different from their other classmates. Danny couldn't put his finger on it, but it was almost like his ghost sense would go off whenever Damian was around without it actually going off.

So Danny had been keeping an eye on Damian, worried that he was being overshadowed by a ghost and that was what was causing the weird sensation of ghost-not-ghost. He hadn't found any concrete evidence of it thus far, but he couldn't really risk transforming and fighting Damian if he wasn't being overshadowed.

But then why was he suddenly everywhere Danny went??

And, of course, Danny found himself in trouble again while Damian was with him. He had been surprised when Damian put the rebreather on him and even more surprised when Damian collapsed. He had reached out to catch the other boy and lower him to the ground gently, while taking the rebreather off and placing it back on Damian.

He didn't need to breathe, after all.

And while he wasn't sure what kind of gas it was that was leaking into the room, he knew that it couldn't be anything good. A knockout gas of some sort, likely. Was someone there to kidnap some students? It wouldn't be too much of a surprise; Gotham Academy was pretty well known for it's elite roster of students.

Like Damian Wayne.

It was right then that Danny looked up because he could hear someone opening the door and he realized that they should have locked it. But it was too late for that so Danny moved to stand protectively over Damian instead. The door swung open and some goon in a gas mask was standing there, looking surprised to see Danny upright.

Danny took that surprise to make his move.

He punched the guy, making him reel back and stumble into the hallway. Danny grabbed the door and pulled it closed, locking it this time and pushing the teacher's desk in front of it for good measure. He then looked back over at Damian, who seemed to be coming to.

"Damian?" Danny asked, moving over to him even as he could hear the goon trying to break down the door.

"Fenton? What happened?"

"Knock out gas. Hopefully one of the Bats will be here soon but we're trapped in here unless we want to jump out the window."

Damian pushed himself upright, looking at the door before looking toward the windows in question before finally looking back at Danny and frowning.

"You do not have a rebreather."

"Uh..." Danny said, his mind scrambling for an explanation, "I guess the gas dissipated?"

Damian didn't look convinced, but the banging on the door abruptly stopped with a cry of "Oh shit!" and then there was the distinct shadow of a cape going by the window.

"Guess the Bats made it here," Danny said, unnecessarily.

~~~~~~~

After the two had been freed from the classroom, Damian made his way over to his father who was waiting for him to take him home. Bruce offered him a smile, which turned concerned when he noticed the look on Damian's face, "Something the matter?"

"Fenton," Damian bit out as he slipped into the car with a huff, "Somehow he made it through the attack without a rebreather and even managed to barricade us into a classroom where we could not be reached."

"Sounds like I should be thanking him," Bruce raised an eyebrow at his son, "Though you don't seem to agree."

"There is something strange about Fenton and I'm going to figure it out."

Danny and Damian go to Gotham Academy together, for reasons *handwaves*. Damian doesn't really care about Danny, but after a while he notices that Fenton is a trouble magnet like no other. If there's a secret cult to accidentally stumble upon or a hostage situation, you can bet Fenton luck is gonna result in Danny being at the center of it.

When Damian gets benched from being Robin for a while (take a pick on reasons) he decides to hang out with Danny. Father can't be mad if the trouble comes to him, not the other way around!

Meanwhile Danny is trying to figure out why his schoolmate with the weird aura wants to suddenly be BFFs. Is he being overshadowed?

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers | JJK (MASTERPOST)

Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends since diapers, and one day you decide to hook up for the fun of it, but then you end up pregnant with your best friend's baby. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 71.2k total

Warnings: chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post

Author's Note: this is the masterpost for the series where I'll link each chapter once they’re posted! the fic is split by trimester and goes month by month throughout the pregnancy (and slightly before and after) across the three chapters. I hope you all enjoy it and pls feel free to lmk your thoughts or discuss things with me between chapters :)

The First Trimester (M)

Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.

Word Count: 26k

The Second Trimester (M)

Summary: You're too busy attending baby prep classes and shopping for furniture together to focus on the significant changes living together and regularly hooking up has introduced into your relationship with Jungkook, although, it doesn't seem like either of you mind all that much.

Word Count: 20.3k

Drabble (M)

Summary: Jungkook decides to generously thank you for allowing him use your body for his pleasure, but your best friend is an overachiever and his immense gratitude leaves you absolutely breathless.

Word Count: 2.6k

The Third Trimester (M)

Summary: Everything feels different after having the worst scare of your life, but your baby's due date is fast approaching and there's still plenty more important things to do than rifle through your ever-growing feelings for Jungkook. He certainly doesn't make it easy on you when he's constantly sweeping you off your feet.

Word Count: 24.9k

[seiya-starsniper]

"You didn't have to say that, Charles," Edwin says after the young boy is out of earshot and happily reunited with his grandfather.

"Say what?" Charles says innocently, though Edwin can tell by the small quirk in his lips and the soft, teasing lilt to his voice that the other boy knows exactly what it is Edwin's referring to.

"Charles," Edwin admonishes. "James is a child. He'll likely forget all about a promise to marry me by tomorrow, if not next week."

"Yeah, but what if he doesn't?" Charles retorts. "What if ten, twenty, or even thirty years go by and he comes back and says 'Hey Edwin, I still want to marry you?'"

"I—" Edwin sputters. For such an innocent promise, from a child, no less, Charles was taking the young werewolf's promises of matrimony far too seriously in his opinion.

"I really like the kid too," Charles continues while Edwin's brain continues to struggle to come up with an appropriate response. "Best to nip that one in the bud before he grows up, don't you think?"

"Charles," Edwin replies, feeling far out of his depth. "That implies you would actually have go through with—you—"

"With what?" Charles asks. "Marrying you?"

"Is this all just a joke to you?" Edwin bites back, feeling anger and hurt twisting inside of him.

"No, not at all Edwin," Charles replies, before he takes one of Edwin's hands in his, squeezing it tightly. "I meant what I said, you know, he says, his voice much more gentle now. "Back in Hell."

Edwin's eyes widen, his indignance entirely forgotten as he processes the meaning of Charles's words, and then puts them in the context of everything that had just occurred in the past few hours.

"You mean—?"

"When I said forever, I meant forever," Charles finishes, smiling. "Whatever the future holds, I know it's me and you. You and me. I'm still figuring some things out, but you know. I'll get there."

Edwin doesn't have a heart that beats, nor does he have lungs that take in air, but his ghostly body still remembers what those things feel like, and so he feels his heart quicken, his breath steal away, and all the love he'd always held for Charles crash through him like a wave on a cliff. It must show on his face, for Charles's eyes soften considerably, and Edwin cannot do much else besides take a deep and shuddering breath to calm himself.

"Well then," Edwin says, giving his own small smile in return. "According to my research, werewolves have roughly the same maturation rate as humans, though their adult lives last a bit longer. So by my calculations you have about thirteen years to come up with a suitable proposal."

Charles laughs and then pulls Edwin into a tight hug.

"I think I can manage that."

Envision - Edwin and Charles are tasked by some sort of a supernatural being to find their missing grandson (a werewolf or a centaur maybe?)

They do and Charles is unsurprisingly brilliant with the child, who's very timid and quiet, but slowly warms up to Charles on their way back to his grandfather

Edwin doesn't know how to handle children, so he keeps his contact with the boy at minimum, that is, until as they almost reach the child's village, the kid stops in his tracks and refuses to come back home

They talk to him and try to convince him to cooperate, but the boy bursts into tears and says that his parents, siblings and classmates don't really like him and that's why he ran away in the first place

It makes Edwin think about his own experience at St. Hilarion, so he softens and squats next to the child to look into his teary eyes and tells him that he relates to the boy's problems

That later on in life he can actually choose his own family, one that will accept him as he is, just as Edwin has, and that he already has a person in his corner right now - his grandfather who even hired detectives to find him

Edwin asks the boy what his hobbies are and upon hearing he likes to read, Edwin responds, "So do I. You see, there are many people out there who will share your hobbies, who will like you and treat you like their family, you just have to find them and never lose hope."

And Charles just looks at Edwin fondly, thinking about how they found each other against all odds and became best friends, became family, and how lucky they are have each other

The child is starstruck and silent for a moment, but his tears dry and he reaches out a small hand to hold Edwin's and agrees to go back

After a few minutes, the boy looks up at Edwin and says "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry you, so you'll also become my family and we will read together"

And Edwin sputters in shocked embarrassment and doesn't know how to answer, and Charles just laughs at the scene they make, ruffles the kid's hair and tells him, while looking at Edwin, "Not if I marry him first"

Edwin is too stunned to speak or even to fully register the world around them, as the three of them finally reach their destination, with Charles and the kid bantering playfully the rest of the way, but he still feels the warmth in his chest

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 3

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

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

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

And now that you’ve returned?

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

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, comfort and control, hurt/comfort (if you squint)

A/N: Reading all your comments and reblogs always makes me smile! This part is a bit longer than the rest. I wanted to focus on building her trust and relationship with the boys, so there will be much more interactions and intimacy than the previous parts. I hope you all enjoy!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

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

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

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

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 3:

If You Stay

You don’t remember falling asleep. But you remember waking up.

The guest room is dim, wrapped in soft shadows, the silk sheets pulled up to your chin. The faint scent of rain and cedar lingers in the air—Jinu, you think distantly. It clings to your skin like a memory. One you shouldn’t have.

You must’ve fallen asleep after your talk with the boys in the afternoon. You’d admit, that did take a toll on you, and you were still feeling quite unwell from yesterday’s events. Hangovers don't just go away in a few hours. One of the boys must’ve carried you in here.

You sit up slowly. Your headache from earlier is gone. But something inside still hums. A weight behind your ribs. A tugging sensation that pulses faintly… toward them.

You still had too many questions you needed answers to. They said they were demons, so why are they here? They didn’t look like demons. They were sinfully beautiful, so you assume that definitely plays a part in it. Why did they sell their souls to Gwi Ma? Who was this Gwi Ma? Who were you to each of them in your past life? Just how many past lives have you had exactly? 

And most importantly, if they were demons hundreds of years old, why in the flying fuck are they in a K-pop idol group?

There’s a knock at the door, ceasing your thoughts. You freeze. But it doesn’t open.

“Y/N?” It’s Romance’s voice, low and careful. “Dinner’s ready. If you’re hungry.”

You don’t answer right away.

Not because you don’t want to. But because you’re afraid of what it means that you do. Still—you follow the sound.

The dining room is too elegant for six people. The table could seat twelve, But only one side is set—six seats arranged close together. The lighting is warm, soft. As if they’d planned for comfort. For your nerves.

The boys are already seated. But they all rise the moment they see you. Romance is the first to move, pulling out your chair with a slow, exaggerated flourish. “Right here, angel.”

You meet his eyes and you feel the pull again. He’s looking at you with the most tender expression. Like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. 

And you were.

Plates are filled before you can ask. Abby gently sets a bowl of soup in front of you—your favorite kind. You don’t remember telling them that. You’re not even sure you remember liking it until the smell hits you. Baby places a glass of water before you and you suck in a nervous breath as you feel a light kiss on the crown of your head. 

You’d never been treated like this before. Cherished. Not even by your own family. It was so foreign, you doubted it could be real. 

But as you gazed at each and every one of them, you could see it in their faces. The quiet relief. The tenderness. Their want to do these things for you. It was a feeling you had to get used to.

You didn’t touch the food right away. You just stared down at the dark wooden table, the linen napkin folded too neatly on your lap, and the spoon resting next to a bowl that smelled like home. If home had five soul-bound demons who watched you breathe.

Jinu watches carefully from across the table. He hasn’t touched his food.

“Eat,” he says quietly. “You’ll need your strength.”

You hesitate.

Romance spoke next. “If you’re waiting for poison, don’t worry. We only do that to each other.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. It was too much. All of it. You took a small sip. And then another. And the warmth spread to places in you that hadn’t been warm in months. You sighed, strangely feeling so much more at ease.

Romance leans closer. His voice is honey and hooks. “You’re still not feeling well during the day, right?”

You nod. Slowly. 

“That’s the bond,” Jinu says. “It’s active. But unstable.”

“The further you are from us,” Abby adds, “the worse it’ll get.”

“I’ve been alone for years,” you mutter, fingers tightening around your spoon. “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Baby says from the end of the table. Quiet. Sharp. “You won’t.” You flinch at his tone. But it doesn’t feel cruel—just true.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Romance sets his fork down and places his chin in his palm, eyes glittering in the candlelight. “You’re not a prisoner, you know.”

Your brow furrows.

He smiles. “We’re not keeping you here. But…we did have this place built for you.”

Your eyes snapped to him. "What do you mean you had it built for me?"

Romance’s smile was soft. Too soft. "Darling, this whole place was bought and designed for you. For when we found you. We just live in it."

You blink.

Had they been waiting for you that long? You hadn’t really thought about it before. The logistics of their story hadn’t fully registered. 

“You’d have your own space,” Jinu says softly, ever the diplomat. “A guest room. With a lock, if that makes you feel safer.”

Abby immediately frowns. “Why can’t she just stay in her room-room?” he grumbles, arms crossed. “It’s closer to mine.”

Your brows knit together. “Wait. My room?”

Romance’s smile is slow and feline, like he’s been waiting for that moment. “Of course. We had it ready since… well. A while.”

You blink. That didn’t answer your question.

Jinu doesn’t flinch. “Because that room doesn’t have a lock.”

Abby scowls, muttering something under his breath. Romance hums beside you. “Wouldn’t want one anyway.”

You whirl on him. “What was that?”

He holds up both hands in mock surrender, grinning like the devil. “Just saying. But okay, okay—guest room with a lock. For now.”

There’s a silence. Then Mystery murmurs almost too quietly: “…We’d break it if we had to.”

Your stomach twists. They’re joking. You hope they’re joking.

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Mystery pipes again. He’s seated closest to you, his plate untouched. His eyes never leave your hands. He wanted to grasp them. Feel your warmth. Feel your hands massage his hair just as you used to in your past life. He swallowed.

You press your lips together. It’s not that you don’t believe them. It’s that you do. And that terrifies you.

Romance watches the doubt dance across your face. He leans forward, just enough that you’re forced to look at him.

“You don’t have to say yes forever,” he says, voice low and intimate. “Just… stay. For now. Let your body heal. Let the bond stabilize. You don’t even have to talk to us. We’ll keep our distance if that’s what you want.”

At least that’s what she’ll think. Romance thinks to himself. With these guys? Yeah right.

You don’t speak. His voice softens. “You’ve been carrying this alone for so long, haven’t you? You’re getting sick. Dizzy. Faint.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’re tired. You’re having headaches. And we’re the only ones who can ease it. You feel that. So why are you still punishing yourself?”

You try to deny it. To push the tears back. But his words hit something raw. And real.

“I’m not trying to punish myself,” you whisper. “I just… I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll let you suffer for it.”

"You’ll be safe," Abby added gruffly. "No one touches you here. No one even gets close."

The silence that follows is thick. Your breathing is shallow. Their words registering. Was it really so bad? Letting them care for you? Being here with them. Having them treat you like you’ve never been treated before? 

Why were you still fighting it? There was so much you didn’t know, but as of this moment, you did know one thing. That they loved you in your past life. And love you still. Did that count? They yearn for you, and have been for lifetimes. And you knew deep in your heart you were starting to feel the same. Was that really so bad? 

To let them in? 

They were strangers, but they weren’t. They claim to be yours, so why do you keep questioning it? 

Then, slowly—almost in spite of yourself—you nod. “Just… a little while,” you say. “Until I feel better.”

You don’t see the look they share. The way Jinu’s shoulders finally lower. The flicker of possessive triumph behind Romance’s lashes. Or the way Mystery exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the moment you left him last.

You don’t see any of it. But you feel it. The shift. The settling. Something ancient and invisible clicks into place behind your ribs. And you don’t fight it anymore.

The bond sighs.

They insist on collecting your things that night. “We’ll go,” Abby says immediately. “You stay. Rest.”

“No, I—” You start, but Jinu raises a hand. “You’re still weak. If the bond flares while you’re alone, it could be dangerous. Let us.”

You glance between them—five men who could tear the world apart for you—and for once, it feels less like a threat and more like a promise.

“…Okay,” you say quietly. “Just—don’t touch my underwear drawer.”

Romance smirks. “No promises.”

“Romance,” Jinu snaps.

Mystery growls.

You sigh. I guess you did need underwear. “Fine. Just… don’t be creepy.”

Abby winks. “We’ll be fast. Promise.”

As they move, as doors open and shoes slip on, you stay behind with Baby, the silent protector watching your every move. But for some reason, it doesn’t scare you now. 

He approaches you, eyes intense and never as wary as the others. Like he’d never be sorry for having you and taking what’s rightfully his. He was silent, but intentional. 

He walks you to your room and you shiver as you feel his large hand on your lower back. He holds the door open for you before briefly muttering a faint “Goodnight, sweetheart” and closing the door shut. And for the first time in weeks… You don’t feel sick.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You sit on the same dining table for breakfast. Jinu had made you some toast sandwiches. The boys looked chirpy. Looks like someone’s in a good mood…

It was still so surreal to them how you were here- having breakfast with them. The very thought of this domestic life with you, caring for you, providing for you like partners almost made them purr in ecstasy. 

You were still in Jinu’s hoodie despite all your clothes laying in messy duffle bags, sleeves swallowing your hands, hair slightly damp from a quick shower. It took much restraint from Jinu to not pull you in his arms the moment you walked out of your room.

His hoodie looked right on you. Like it had always belonged there—like you had always belonged there. You didn’t realize it, but every thread of that oversized fabric clung to you like a memory, like a claim. It smelled like him, and that alone made something feral claw beneath his skin.

His jaw tightened as you crossed the room, bare legs brushing against soft fabric. You moved so carelessly, so trusting, not realizing you were walking a tightrope over a thousand years of obsession. Of agony. Of aching need.

You didn’t know he used to dream about this. That centuries ago, he’d wake from nightmares of you slipping through his fingers only to whisper your name into the night. He had waited lifetimes to see you like this again.

And now? Now, you were right there—wrapped in his scent, in his clothes, in his world—but still unsure if you belonged.

He smiled softly as you reached for a mug, but his hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to cage you to his chest, press his lips to your neck, and whisper, “This time, I’ll never let you die.”

He would never let you go again.

They were all quiet around you, letting you eat in peace. It should’ve been normal. It wasn’t.

"Are you going to work today?" Mystery asked, tilting his head.

"...Yes?"

"We don’t think you should go," Jinu said plainly.

You nearly choked on your toast. Say what now? "I have bills."

"You could quit," Romance offered. "Stay here. Rest. Sketch. Paint. Sleep."

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Sure, the offer sounded nice—dreamy, even. But it was the kind of nice that belonged in fairytales. People didn’t just quit their jobs and live off vibes and good intentions. In this economy?

You waited for the punchline… but it never came. They were all staring at you—completely serious. Like quitting your job was the obvious solution. Like it was the answer to every problem you’d ever had.

"What would I even do? Just exist as your little house pet?"

Mystery looked hopeful. Abby smiled. You sighed. "No way. I’m not freeloading."

"You could be our assistant," Abby grinned. "Take notes. Carry snacks. Pet Mystery when he gets upset."

"Not happening."

They let it go.

But Romance’s eyes gleamed. Like he was already planning a way to make it so. 

After breakfast, you went to your room to change into your work clothes. Stepping out and closing the door firmly, you make your way to the kitchen where Jinu hands you another toast claiming you needed another ‘energy boost’ for the day. You take it in thanks and drown out his last ditch effort to convince you to quit, waving him off with a cute smile that shut him up. You make your way to the entrance and stop in your tracks. Abby, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself for 8:30 in the morning. His sweatshirt hung loose over his frame, hood drawn up, but there was no hiding that build. Or that face. Or the smirk that crept up the moment he saw you in your work clothes.

"Hello there, sweetheart," he drawled.

You froze, mid-bite, a piece of toast tragically dangling from your mouth. "...If this is another attempt to get me to quit my job, you can turn right back around."

Abby grinned like the smug menace he was. “Sadly, no. I’ve accepted your tragic refusal of our generous sugar-demon lifestyle.”

He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his hoodie pocket like this was totally normal. “So instead, I’ll be escorting my darling little starshine to work today.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry—your what now?”

“My darling. Little. Starshine,” he repeated, grinning wider with each word.

You deadpan, a blush of pink rising to your cheeks. “Try that again and I’ll call HR.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m walking you to work. Orders from the Bond Gods. Or Jinu. Same thing, really.”

“You all really expect me to be escorted to work?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You’re still weak. The bond’s healing you, but slowly. We won’t let you go alone again. Not when you’re like this.”

You hesitate. He steps closer, but not too close. “Let us keep you safe. Just for today.”

“…Fine,” you mutter.

“And tomorrow…”

“Really?”

“And the day after that…”

“Okay, I get it. Fine. But you have to hide.”

He blinks. “Hide?”

“I’m not walking next to Abby from the Saja boys. I’ll be the talk of the entire district. They’ll probably think I’m kidnapped.”

He snorts. “Technically…”

“Abby.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls his hood lower. “But I draw the line at hiding my abs.”

You roll your eyes. “Just… be normal. Please.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Even in a hoodie and mask, he doesn’t look normal. He looks like a movie star trying not to be recognized—and failing. Your coworkers notice him immediately.

“Y/N…” one of the baristas whispers as you clock in. “Who. Is. That.” 

You pretend not to hear.

Another coworker giggles. “Is he your boyfriend? Oh my god, did you meet him at the club?”

“No!” you say too quickly.

“But he didn’t come inside with us… where did you meet him then?”

You force a laugh. “He’s just a friend. He’s helping me out since I’ve been sick.” 

They seem to buy it—until someone brings up the guy from the other night.

“Hey, what happened to Jae? He said he’d walk you home, but we never heard from him. Did he ghost or something?”

You freeze.

“I, um… ran into someone else before he could. Didn’t see him after that.”

You stare hard at the pastry tray, pretending to adjust the layout. But inside, your stomach twists. What did happen to him?

You’d ask the boys later. …If you wanted the truth. Though, you’re not quite sure if you really do. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Your shift drags on longer than usual. Not because of work.

Because of him.

Baby sits at the back corner, hoodie pulled low, sipping a black coffee he hasn’t touched in twenty minutes. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. Your coworkers whisper, asking if he was an idol or something because he looked too handsome to be just a normal customer. You cringed at that.

It hasn’t really registered until now just how insane it was, really. You were now co-living with one of the rising pop-groups in the country. You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. 

You try to focus. But you can feel his eyes. Not just looking—possessing. Guarding. Burning. Everytime you talked to a customer (particularly male) you could feel his eyes harden, glaring holes into whoever it was that talked to you. 

One of them tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention, asking with an “excuse me” if he could get some hot sauce with his order. Baby nearly jumped out of his seat if it weren’t for your warning glare. 

You approach the brooding demon, flipping open your notepad. “You’re not subtle, you know.”

He doesn’t smile. “They shouldn’t look at you.”

Your heart thumps. “It’s a customer’s job to look…and order…and ask...”

“They shouldn’t talk, either. Nor should they ever touch.”

You try not to smile. “You’re terrifying.”

His eyes flick up. Dark. Hungry. “Good.”

You bring him a refill anyway. “Behave.”

He doesn’t.

He waits outside when your shift ends, hands in pockets. Doesn’t say a word as you fall into step beside him. The air between you buzzes. You glance over. “Why do you look like someone kicked your favorite pet?”

He doesn’t answer. You poke him in the side. “Baby.”

His jaw flexes. Fighting his control to pull you in closer as people walked by. “I don’t like them talking to you.”

You sigh. “We’ve been over this. It’s my job.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I do.”

“You have us.”

“That’s not a job.”

“You could quit. Let us take care of you.”

“No.”

He frowns, lips twitching down.

“You’re pouting.”

He looks at you, expression unreadable. You reach out, amused, and gently press his cheek. Something shifts. He grabs your hand—fast but gentle—and kisses your knuckles. 

The world slows.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t remember. Even if you never say it.” His eyes hold you in place. Burning. Certain. There’s no hesitation in his voice. No tremble. Just absolute conviction—like he wasn’t stating a hope, but a law of the universe. 

Baby steps closer, the streetlights casting silver on his sharp features. His gaze drops to your lips like he’s already imagining how they’d feel crushed beneath his.

“You don’t have to love me back yet,” he says, voice low and velvet-dark. “But don’t ever think I’ll stop. Even if you don’t want us to take care of you. I’ll keep pushing.”

Your stomach flips. You hate how warm your skin feels. How part of you leans toward him without meaning to. How his scent—like storm-wet pine and danger—makes your fingers twitch with a need you can’t name. His hand lifts to your face, gentle despite the fire in his eyes, knuckles brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he touched too hard.

“If anyone else touches you again,” he adds softly, “I don’t care if they’re your customer. They won’t have hands left to touch with.”

You don’t answer.

But your heart races all the way home.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

After dinner, the boys were gathered on the second floor of the apartment. They had turned it into a studio to practice their choreo for performances. You could hear their music and their footsteps as they danced to the beat. 

You padded around the apartment to explore in the meantime. The apartment was massive. You didn’t realize how massive until you started walking. Every hallway turned into a gallery. Every room had windows tall enough to drown in. You passed a music room, a library, a room full of costumes and stage lights. You had no idea such penthouses existed in the city. But then again, they were demons who’d been in existence for hundreds of years. Who knows how much money they got.

On the kitchen counter, you found a sketchbook. Yours. But filled with things you didn’t remember drawing. Five faces. A moonlit shrine. A shattered sword. You still hadn’t gotten used to drawing what you figured were memories from your past lives. This was evidence in itself that they were telling the truth. You decide not to fight it anymore.

On the dresser, you find an earring. No pair. You picked it up and your chest twisted, it felt a bit familiar.

In the lounge, a scarf folded neatly on a velvet chair. You held it to your face and inhaled. A scent you couldn’t name, but the fabric felt soft. Again, familiar. 

You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. It was like finding single pieces of a gigantic puzzle. You were sure these things meant something to one of them. You’d ask, in time. 

After their practice was over, the boys found you sat in the livingroom. You were reading the book Romance had given you which made him smile. They greeted you one by one, some went off to shower, some to the kitchen for a snack. 

It was Jinu who sat next to you. 

“How’s the choreo going?” you ask, eyes never leaving the page. 

“Good. How’s the book?” He nodded. He knew how badly Romance had wanted to give that to you. 

“Good.” You looked up to softly smile at him. You were halfway through the story. The characters blurred together—tragic lovers separated by fate, drawn to one another through time. A story too close to your own.

Jinu looked at the book title with a gaze you couldn’t recognize. Like he was debating on something he wanted to say. 

“Did you want to hear another story?” 

That piqued your interest. You slowly shut the book, placing it down on the couch as a sign for him to continue. Jinu didn’t look at you. His gaze remained downcast. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. 

“I wasn’t always someone people bowed to.”

You looked up at him. The air around him seemed to change—heavier, stiller. Like his shadow was longer than it had been a second ago.

“I was born in a fishing village by the bay,” he said. “Back when the tides still carried salt and prayers.” 

“My mother was a seamstress. My sister was eight years younger. We were poor. Poor enough to boil weeds and pretend it was soup.”

Your breath caught. His eyes seemed distant. Far away as he recalled his life four hundred years ago. 

“The only thing we owned of value was a bipa. My mother’s. She taught me how to play it before her hands got too swollen to hold the strings.” His eyes went distant, haunted. “I played in the markets for coins. It was never enough.”

He paused, jaw tight. “Then one night, I heard a voice.”

“Gwi Ma offered me everything. Fame. Gold. Silk sheets and stages carved from jade. And I said yes.”

You stared at him. He finally met your eyes—and this time, the pain there was real.

“I left,” he whispered. “Without a word. My mother. My sister. I never even turned around. I don’t know if they lived another week.”

You released a breath as you felt your heart fracture at his words.

“I just… ran. Into the palace. Into adoration. And never looked back.”

He exhaled, eyes heavy with guilt. “The crowds worshipped me. I performed for kings and their consorts. They called me divine. The courtiers fought for my smile. And it still wasn’t enough.”

“I didn’t deserve peace,” he said, voice brittle. “But then I saw you.” His voice softened—fragile like old silk.

“You were a maid. You had ink on your fingers and a habit of humming while sweeping the floors. You didn’t bow. You didn’t flatter. You rolled your eyes at me.”

Your chest tightened. So that’s who you were in your past life when you first met him.

“And when I asked you why… you said I looked lonely.”

A pause.

“I fell in love with you the moment you looked at me like I was a boy. Not a god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But I made you weak. I brought you too close. It was impossible for someone like you, so pure of heart, to exist in that palace. I should’ve known there would be vipers waiting to strike.”

You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t.

“There was a concubine who used to love watching me play. She’d call upon me to her chambers for performances. Pay a hefty sum for an appearance in her parties. She saw you and I in one of the pavilions and she didn’t like it.” A look of anguish flashed on Jinu’s face. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone found out. I wasn’t a fool. I knew the women of the palace liked me for more than just my voice.” His fists tightened on his lap. 

“She poisoned your tea. I found you in the gardens…you…you were still smiling.”

He blinked once. Just once. “You died in my arms. And I didn’t even know how to mourn.”

You stared at him, tears pricking your eyes. You wished so hard to remember. To recall who he was back then. Something, anything, so you could share a memory with him.

“I went back to Gwi Ma. I begged. I offered everything again.” He swallowed. “That’s when the pact began. He told me… if I could bind other demons to your soul, tether you tightly enough, you’d return.” His eyes flicked to yours. He was trembling.

“So I did. I found them. One by one. I gave up pieces of myself to forge the bond. Even if I had to share you, I- I was willing to do anything to have you back. I waited lifetimes. We all did.”

He reached out now, slowly, like you might disappear. “And now you’re here.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But your body leaned toward his—drawn like a string was being pulled behind your ribs. He exhaled shakily. “I still don’t know what happened to them. My mother. My sister. I never went back.”

You reached for his hand. Fingers brushing his wrist. It was the gentlest thing you’d ever done. Jinu held onto your touch like a lifeline as the pain of his memories came rushing back.

“I think… they’d forgive you,” you whispered. He laughed softly. Bitter. Grateful. “I don’t.”

And somehow that made you want to forgive him more. You let him pull you closer. Let your head fall beneath his chin, chest pressed lightly to his side. He held you like you might break. Like he didn’t deserve to hold you at all. This was the closest he’s ever been to you since first seeing you in that square. His heart constricted. 

“I won’t make the same mistake again,” he murmured. You felt the words against your scalp. “I will never leave you. Even if it kills me.”

You tilted your head up—slow, searching. His lips hovered a breath away. The look in his eyes was agonizing: pure want, reverence, restraint. He was begging without words.

And maybe you wanted to say yes. Maybe you wanted to close that distance.

But something in you hesitated. The memory of danger still ghosting your ribs. The smell of blood. The crackle of old fire. You shouldn’t want this. He was a demon.

But then again—

He was yours.

Jinu didn’t move. Not really. But his eyes…God, his eyes were starving.

Like a man who hadn’t eaten in centuries and now sat trembling before the one thing he was never allowed to touch. His fingers flexed once on his thigh, like he was holding himself back from grabbing you. From yanking you into his arms and claiming what had always been his.

His lips parted—his breath shallow. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered, voice ragged. “Not yet.”

That almost did it.

Not yet.

Not no.

He wasn’t denying that he wanted to. Only that he was trying—failing—not to. You felt something pulse low in your spine. The bond again. Soft and hot, like a wire coiling tighter. Tighter.

You leaned closer. Not much. Just enough for your shoulder to brush his chest. His breath hitched.

“Y/N…” he warned. Or maybe it was a plea. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did. You knew exactly.

Your hand grazed his chest—over fabric, over his heart. It beat like a war drum under your palm. And he—this ancient thing with a voice like honey and a soul soaked in sin—shook under your touch.

“You waited for me,” you said softly. “Across lifetimes.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Every night. Every fucking century.”

“And now I’m here,” you whispered.

“And now you’re here.”

He reached up—finally—like a man about to touch something sacred. Fingers grazing your cheek so gently it made you ache. You didn’t flinch this time. You leaned into it. And when he cradled your face in his hands, it wasn’t just touch.

It was claim.

The bond lit up like a match to kerosene—searing, seeping through every crack in your soul like molten gold. You gasped. So did he. His forehead pressed against yours, and for a moment, the whole world narrowed to this.

Him. You. Breath tangled. Thread pulled tight. Two hearts beating like one. 

His voice broke against your mouth.

“I loved you. Before I even knew what love meant. I loved you in that garden. In that palace. In every life you bled through. I loved you while you died in my arms. And I love you now.”

Tears slowly gathered in the corner of your eyes at his confession. Your chest tightening with every word he uttered. Let all reason be damned. Nothing in the world could be more true right now, more real, than this.

Your lips brushed his when you exhaled. You didn’t mean to. You were just breathing—but it was enough.

It shattered him.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like this was his first meal in centuries. Like his immortality had meant nothing without this.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was ruinous. Possessive. His mouth moved against yours like he’d memorized it across time—hungry, reverent, desperate. Like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

And you…

You kissed him back.

Because some part of you remembered. The garden. The incense. The ache of his name in your mouth before it was ever spoken.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand slid to your waist. He groaned low in his throat when you pressed into him, fire threading under your skin, a live wire finally connected.

The kiss slowed. Deepened.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes were wild.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “You always were.”

And in that moment, you didn’t deny it.

Not this time.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The kiss hadn’t been loud.

Barely a sigh. A whisper of fabric. The faint rustle of limbs and emotion finally giving in.

But they felt it.

From different corners of the apartment, the bond trembled like a shared heartbeat. A hush fell over the rooms like snowfall. Every boy froze.

Abby paused in the hallway with his forehead pressed to the doorframe, eyes shut.

Romance stood motionless in the kitchen, hands tight around the edge of the marble counter, breath held like a confession.

Mystery curled beneath his bedsheets, face half-buried in the sleeve of your old hoodie, his claws twitching against the mattress.

Baby sat in the far window seat of the lounge, unmoving, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable—except for the slight twitch of his jaw.

They knew. They didn’t need to see it. They felt it through the bond—the hum, the spark, the slow unfurling of something sacred.

You kissed Jinu.

And something ancient and knotted in all of them unclenched. Not jealousy. Not really. It wasn’t rage or bitterness that stirred in their chests.

It was relief.

Because Jinu deserved this.

He had waited the longest. He had suffered the most. He had built the very foundation of the Crimson Pact with trembling hands and bloodied knees, driven by the memory of your lifeless body in his arms. He had found them. Bound them. Led them.

And now…He had finally been given a sliver of what he lost.

Abby exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His hand closed into a fist against the doorframe. “Good for you, hyung,” he whispered.

Romance closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, the corner of his mouth lifting into a quiet, almost reverent smile. “Took him fucking long enough.”

Mystery blinked slowly, purring low in his throat. “She’s starting to remember,” he murmured into the blankets. “She’s letting herself feel it.”

And Baby… Baby didn’t move. But in his eyes, a hunger lit up. Not the kind that devoured. The kind that waited. That watched from the shadows with claws pressed to his ribs.

It would be his turn soon. He could wait. He’d waited before. But not much longer.

Across the apartment, the bond shimmered—warmer now. Alive in a way it hadn’t been in lifetimes. Each of them felt it. Not just the connection, but the hope.

She’s letting us in. She’s starting to fall again. Their hands twitched. Hearts pounded. Mouths parted with breathless need. And beneath it all, one singular thought pulsed through the Crimson Pact:

Soon, it’ll be me.

Not out of competition. Not to steal the moment. But because you belonged to all of them. And in every life, one by one… you had.

Jinu had always kissed you first.

But he would not be the last. TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ───────── A/N: Huaaah I died inside writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this one. The next chapter follows the same theme of relationship building and we'll get to see more intimate moments and backstories of the other boys! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and feel free to Reblog and Like this chapter if you enjoyed it! Till next time! Willa x.

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✦︎Sukuna x reader All yours.

"'Kuna?" "Hm?" "Are you comfortable with me?"

Sukuna and you had been seeing each other for the past 10 months. Ten. That should be enough for someone to know if a person likes them, right? Of course it should. That's 300 days. Yet whenever Sukuna was around you, every word, every touch felt calculated. Hesitant. You brushed it off for a while, thinking that it's just how this big burly man, with a staggering height and inked skin, is. But the small responses, the quick look aways were bothering you. And you needed to know. So you found yourself at your apartment, lounging around in the living room with Sukuna seated comfortably on the sofa. A respectable distance between you two. Too respectable for lovers. You tried to initiate proximity, sure, you did. But every time you scooted closer to show him a silly cat video, shoving the phone in his face, he would pull back slightly, glancing away. And these little incidents crept through your pretty mind, creating a turmoil, egging you on to ask the said question. Raising a brow, Sukuna looked at you from where he was sprawled out. Sharp eyes narrowing onto you as if to say, 'Where'd this come from?' But the thoughts of him not wanting you, no yearning for you like you did had seeped through and now you were conflicted. Was Sukuna really comfortable with you? "I mean-", you started, a small exhale leaving you. "...do you feel okay with me? Do you not like it when I'm too close to you? You keep looking away. You can tell me if you don't want to, y'know. I wanna make you feel safe-" "I like you." Woah, that was unexpected. Your brows raised up to your hairline, not used to such a statement by him. Sukuna showed he liked you: through small gifts, but not proximity, though never said it. These words changed things. A tinge of red bloomed across Sukuna's ears as he cleared his throat. He shied away, looking down at his lap. "I do feel comfortable with you, I just..." He grunted, a small frown gracing his lips. How could he tell you that he was shy? How could he tell you that he liked you so much more, that his brain fluctuated every time you smiled at him, that he had to look away to function properly? That every time you cooed at him, he had to physically restrain himself from the cuteness aggression and suppress his urges to squish you? Because the big, bad Sukuna never did that. A snort, then silence. You were trying to hold back a laugh, but you wanted him to talk. "Suku, are you shy?" You asked, smugly raising a brow. What a gremlin. Sukuna thought to himself affectionately. Scoffing, he turned his head away, arms crossed defensively. "Hell no.", he snarked but his pink face said otherwise. "Awwww, you're so cute." You shifted closer, causing Sukuna to tense up as your warm hands cupped his cheeks. Shit, he could melt. "You could have told me. And here I was, thinking you hate me or something.", you cooed. "Your stupid questions make me hate you." "You're sooooo cute." "I take my words back. Get off of me this instant." His hands circled your waist. He didn't hesitate, leaning into you. "Too late, mwah." You plant a kiss to his nose, making him turn red as you laugh with genuine amusement. Your lover was the sweetest thing ever. "Don't shy away from me, okay? I want you to feel free with me." That made Sukuna's eyes soften, longingly gazing into yours. A smile like that could ruin his life, and he'd let it. Because Sukuna knew you're the only one he'd ever be comfortable with.

First blog. Constructive criticism is welcome with open arms. I would appreciate any requests and prompts. I hope you like this just as much as this upgraded fire boy likes you. Thank you for reading. -Masterlist-

More of Sukuna.

[springintosummerxx]

❀ downbad for you ❀

op81 x reader

in which oscar changes in little and big ways. aka oscar's downbad for you

warnings: suggestive, fluff, bit of pining, humour

word count: 1.9 k

masterlist

nicole piastri was not an impatient woman. she raised four kids, all of them talented, intelligent and painfully oblivious in some way or another.

so when oscar had started travelling on his own and barely - rarely - picked up phone calls or checked texts, she learned to wait for him to come to her. very reasonable, in her opinion.

but when she called him, early in the morning hoping to catch him before a sprint race, she was surprised to find that he actually picked up.

"hello?" he asked, tone a little eager and not it's usual monotone.

"oscar," she replied, a little startled.

"oh. hey, mum." he answered absentmindedly.

now she was suspicious, "why are you answering your calls all of a sudden?"

"didn't you call me?" he asked, with that born-nonchalance that made her want to rip her hair out sometimes.

"yeah, just checking in. everything good for the weekend?"

"sure, everything's fine. listen mum, i'm actually waiting on another call. i'll call you again after the sprint, okay? thanks."

then her own son, the one she'd painfully pushed - okay, that was a bit gross, but she was a little offended.

then it clicked.

the question she should be asking, instead of rolling her eyes over her firstborn's antics, is who is he waiting on?

nicole calls hattie next, who answers reliably on the first ring.

"is your brother seeing someone?"

"woah, mum. hello to you too," her eldest daughter huffs, "and yes, i think so."

she nearly jumps up in excitement, "who?"

"that, i have no idea. but he's been answering his texts so quick lately, and he asked me about what flowers were suitable for a first date."

"finally," nicole sighed, and then perking up, "when do you think he'll bring her home?"

lando is staring at oscar as he puts on suncream.

he looks so...serious, squeezing out lotion from a bottle that looks way too tiny in his hands, concentrating on the thin white lines that coat three of his fingers.

"what?" he then is rubbing it into his face, and lando is scared.

"mate, what the fuck?"

"i'm protecting my skin," the australian answers, straight-faced.

he is 100% sure he's never seen oscar put on sunscreen, ever. especially not in the middle of the day, right between filming videos outside.

it's probably a good idea, if they don't want to get sunburnt; oscar, especially, with his pale complexion.

and who is lando to judge? he used to love it when his ex-girlfriend's did his skincare or forced him to exfoliate - wait.

before he can think through what he's going to say, he blurts, "do you have a girlfriend?"

oscar stares at him, and the faint, pink blush that's rising from his neck is enough of an answer.

"oh, my days you do!" he gasps. oscar shakes his head, the corners tipping up despite himself.

lando watches him, half-disgusted and half-proud.

his teammate has an absolutely shit-eating grin on his face, eyes bright. he leans back in the chair, looking dorky in his team kit and a little bit of sunscreen not blended in at his jaw.

lando could say with full confidence, after watching oscar not flinch at turns or crashes, that this reaction means that he is in love.

the first time oscar brings you around (and hard-launches both of you to the moon) is during the miami gp.

the two of you, your smaller hand tucked into the crook of his arm, make your way across the green turf of the paddock.

he's aware of the cameras and eyes; it's kind of hard not to be, but he doesn't mind like he usually does.

it's probably gross and neanderthal, and he will definitely deny it if you bring it up, but he's so proud to have you on his arm.

the two of you met a months ago, in monaco, where you were starting the second year of your doctorate degree.

you were (and are, in his opinion) way too smart for him, drop-dead gorgeous with a dry sense of humour.

although monaco was known for hosting f1 drivers you weren't super well-versed in the sport.

he likes that about you, and even more the way you ask him to tell you about it as you run your fingers through his hair, when the two of you are out on a date in some little cafe.

"okay?" he murmurs, and you squeeze your fingers around his bicep once.

"hmm," he can tell you're a little overwhelmed by the crease between your brows that he smoothes out with his thumb, "m'okay."

the little yellow sundress you're wearing makes your skin glow under the florida sun, and he wants to press his nose to your shoulder.

"it'll get better when we're not-"

"hard-launching at one of your races? you sure go big or go home, baby."

however many times you use that nickname, whether in the early morning when you're bribing him with coffee or hushed as he presses himself into you late at night, it never fails to make him flush.

it sounds so pretty from your lips, so personal and intimate his stomach lurches still when he hears that pet name.

"yeah," he laughs, "can't help it though. want to show you off."

this time, it's your turn to be flustered.

he can't believe someone as put together and elegant as you turns into a pile of mush for someone as unromantic as him.

but perhaps he's changed, he thinks as you twist your mouth and brush a hand over your sun and love-warmed cheeks.

"god, oscar. you can't say things like that. i'm going to turn into a liquid."

"a very beautiful liquid," he offers, his free hand grabbing the yours that's tucked into his elbow.

he moves you to his other side, the one closer to the cafés and motorhomes as more people start flooding into the paddock.

"c'mere," he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your forehead.

normally, he would be against any sort of pda. but you look so relaxed under the sun, skin glowing as you watch him behind a pair of sunglasses that he can't help himself.

oscar hears the shutters of cameras, and he rests his cheek on yours.

"love you," he grins boyishly.

"love you, baby. good luck."

he wants a real kiss, one that makes you whimper the way he likes, but he's pushed his luck enough.

someone from the team leads you to the back of the garage to find a headset.

later that night, when the both of you are laying in bed, faces damp with skincare, he comes across an edit of you on tiktok.

there's some thirst-trappy song in the back and an annoying filter that makes everything a bit blurry, but he watches it three times anyways.

the first clip is of you in the garage, standing towards the back, fingers fluttering over your papaya headset. you look serious (though he thinks you do look a little confused, adorably so) with your eyes locked on the t.v. broadcasting his onboard.

the little skysports banner pops up, citing you as his partner.

oscar piastri's partner, it reads in block letters.

his heart warms in his chest, and he has to rub at it because of how intense he feels for you; you are so much more than that, and he can't wait for people to realize.

the next clip is you with alexandra, who you knew from someone's neighbor. or cousin. monaco was small, after all.

the two of you are laughing, striding with leo between your legs.

lastly, oscar watches with attentive eyes as the videos of you and him together come up.

it's undeniable that you guys look good together; he's smiling more than he probably has, ever, and you look up at him, adoringly as you blend some smeared sunscreen under his ear.

the sound of the tiktok has repeated four times by then, and you slide yourself into his embrace, wiggling up his chest.

he tilts his phone to you so you can see, and you bury your face in his neck.

"help," your breath warm on his skin, "i'm being perceived."

he laughs, pulling you up to kiss him, for real on the mouth, "thank you. for coming with me."

"of course," you say, a little surprised at how sincere he sounds, "anytime, baby."

now it's his turn to bury his face into your neck.

"he's never like this," hattie tells you.

"what?" you ask, smiling as your boyfriend's sister hands you a drink.

"he's so...touchy. it would be kind of gross, if you guys weren't so cute."

"yeah," edie pipes in, sipping her own drink, "it's freaky. unnatural."

"are you talking about me?" oscar asks drily as he slides into the seat next to yours.

frowning at the distance in between your chair and his, he wraps one large hand around the leg of yours and tugs until you're close enough for his to rest his arm to loop behind you.

mae shudders comically, just as edie pretends to gag. hattie hoots in laughter.

oscar, cheeks pink, unabashedly rolls his eyes as his parents take their seats around the table in their backyard.

it's nice seeing him in his natural habitat, teasing his sisters, helping his mum carry dishes to the dining table.

you insist on helping nicole wash up after dinner, and as you dry the dishes she hands you, she says something you don't expect.

"thank you," she tells you, "for taking care of him."

before you can respond, she goes on, "he's never been too good at taking care of himself. you know, he used to put his washing in the oven?"

you laugh, imagining oscar, on the cusp of adulthood, crouched over a oven with wet socks in his hands.

"but i can tell he's been well. so, thank you."

you blush, "i don't think it's anything to do with me."

she snorts, an easy smile on her face as she nudges you with her shoulder, "he's been calling more, he's eating well. i don't think he's been sunburnt or gone without fresh laundry for months."

you hum, "he takes care of me too, and i should thank you for raising a good man."

"i've got to stop leaving you alone with my family members." oscar sidles next to you, peering at his mum.

she brushes your cheek and pats his shoulder before wandering off to find his sisters.

"hi," he whispers into your hair, turning you around so he can crowd you into the kitchen counter.

"hi, baby."

he groans, burying his face into your neck. you feel him press a kiss to your shoulder, and you grin.

"okay?" you ask quietly.

"more than okay," he responds, smile content and squinty, "it's nice. to see you here, with my family. they love you."

"i love them," caressing his cheek, you press a kiss to his nose.

"this is probably weird for them," he hums, leaning into your hand, "to see me like this."

"i'm not going anywhere, so i think they'll get used to you being all gross and down bad."

"not downbad," oscar mutters, wrapping his arms around your waist in a hug and swaying the two of you back and forth, "just in love."

"downbad," you giggle, and he doesn't disagree, not when it makes you smile, so lovingly and soft at him.

maybe he is downbad.