#neither of them are made for this and yet now they have it. together

[thatonegrimm]

The Manager’s Guide to Demon Boybands: A Witch’s Oath

Wards, Warnings, and Witnesses

Chapter12/Chapter13/Chapter14

Same evening

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours.

From the window, you watched the streaking water blur the city into oil paint smears—gray and gold and neon bleeding together under flickering signs. Somewhere behind, the kettle clicked off. The tea would go cold. You didn’t move.

Romance had saved you. That wasn’t what unsettled you.

Having watched him melt metal with his bare hands, cocky and concerned in equal measure, as if he wanted the reaction more than your thanks. You gave him neither. But you’d felt it.

The way the air rippled around him. The way the flame curled through the scaffolding like it had been waiting for him. And the way he watched her after—like he was hoping she’d be scared.

But she wasn’t. She never was.

That, more than anything, seemed to frustrate them.

She exhaled slowly and turned from the window. The wards had been humming since rehearsal ended, faint pulses of magic brushing the edges of her senses. She’d let it go while the boys were still awake—she didn’t want them seeing her work. Not yet.

Now, though, the signals were stronger. Focused. And close.

She pulled her coat from the hook by the door, tucked a carved bone charm into her inner pocket, and slid a waterproof charm over her shoulders like a second skin.

The kettle still steamed. She left it behind.

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

Across the Street

The wind howled past the alley below. Trash cans clattered. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm blared and died.

She moved with intent, boots splashing through shallow puddles as she stepped into the narrow space between her building and the next. She hadn’t brought an umbrella—didn’t need one. The warded charm at her collarbone repelled the worst of the storm, leaving a dry halo around her shoulders while the rest of the world drowned in rain.

She had followed the hum here. A low, invasive pressure against her outer perimeter wards. Something—or someone—testing boundaries that had no business being tested.

The signal had started weak, but insistent. By the time she reached the alley, it was loud enough to feel in her teeth.

She stopped just beneath a flickering security light and let her senses stretch. The copper she had lined in the building’s foundation thrummed like a tuning fork—resonating with a presence not her own. The intruder hadn’t masked himself well. Reckless. Young. Amateur.

She didn’t draw a weapon. She didn’t need to.

She tracked it to the alley. Narrow. Familiar. Dangerous.

The intruder wasn’t human.

He was young. Reckless. Still flush with borrowed spells and a false sense of immunity.

She saw the shimmer of his glamour before he noticed her. Sloppy. Loud. Untrained.

“Don’t step any closer,” she warned, voice calm.

He blinked in surprise. Smirked. “Didn’t expect the manager to be the one on night patrol.”

You stepped forward.

The rain hit the sidewalk hard around them, but not on her. Not inside the soft bubble of magic called up without a word.

“You’ve been tailing them since the shoot last week.”

He shrugged. “They’re demons. You know what they are.”

“I do.”

“And you’re still shielding them?”

“You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

That made him laugh. “Yeah? What are you gonna do—report me to your talent agency?”

She raised her hand.

Power flickered at her fingertips.

The laughter died in his throat.

“I’m giving you one chance to walk away. You don’t want to find out what happens if I decide to make an example.”

But he moved first.

Spellfire. Crude. Loud. Unrefined.

She didn’t dodge.

She caught it.

The alley lit up in violet-blue light as the spell collided with a barrier inches from her skin.

She countered with a single sigil flicked into the air — sharp, old magic. It cut through the rain and slammed him backward into the brick wall.

He didn’t get up.

She checked his pulse. Alive. Stunned. Magic scrambled like broken glass inside him.

She whispered a name. The air twisted. The veil parted.

And she dragged him through.

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

At the Crossroads Shrine

It stood on the edge of three ley-lines. A neutral zone. A ghost-walkers' court. A place only the supernatural dared tread.

And there, strung between the old iron arches of a disused shrine, the intruder hung — unconscious, still breathing, his wrists bound in old sigil-ink, his glamour forcibly peeled back to show what he was.

A sign burned faintly above him. I WARNED YOU.

Those who walked the Veil that night saw it. And they remembered her.

The one who had been gone for centuries. But she had returned. And she was not hiding anymore.

They would not mistake the boys for easy prey again.

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

POV-Tae Sun-ho, Monk-Scribe of the East Gate

He hadn’t thought she was still alive.

The wards around the Crossroads Shrine flared in the pre-dawn hours—angry, pulsing, insistent. He’d gone to investigate expecting a rogue spell or perhaps a demon marking territory.

Instead, he found him. The bound figure, unconscious and stripped of all glamours, hung limply beneath the shrine’s crumbling arch. A sigil burned above him in violet-gold flame, hovering in the air like judgment itself.

I WARNED YOU.

It was not the message that chilled him. It was the script.

Old witchcraft. Hand-scribed in a dialect that hadn’t been used in five hundred years. She hadn’t changed it. She didn’t have to. Her words were law.

He stepped back slowly, keeping his gaze lowered. The glyph holding the man’s bindings wasn’t a curse. It was a sentence.

Tae Sun-ho pressed his palms together and bowed. Not to the shrine. To her. To The Hollow Binder.

She had returned. Not to court allies. Not to reclaim territory. But to warn them.

And if this fool’s broken body was her warning, the next would be a lesson.

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

POV-Blood Witch

She tasted the sigil in her throat before she saw it.

Iron. Rue. Bitter valerian. Ancient binding salt burned into the glyph like it had been carved from bone. Her hands clenched on the windowsill as her scrying pool trembled.

No. No, no, no.

She was supposed to be dead.

She bound you once, Mira, remember?

Bound your power for seven years and let your coven think you fled. Let your mother rot believing you betrayed her. The Hollow Binder doesn’t banish you. She makes sure you’re forgotten.

Now some idiot had pissed her off again.

She should feel glee. Triumph. Let the boy rot. Let the communities choke on their secrets. But all she felt was dread.

If she was back—if she had stepped out of the veil and reminded the world who she was—then something was wrong.

Deeply wrong.

Because The Hollow Binder never interfered unless something worse was on its way.

And Rhee Mira knew that if that woman was walking the crossroads again…

They were already out of time.

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

POV-Spirit Empath Trainee

Jae hadn’t meant to see it.

He’d only wandered into the ley-crossroads because his mentor told him never to.

But curiosity, like fear, always got him in trouble.

And there it was.

The shrine. The man, hanging in midair like his body didn’t weigh anything, suspended by sigils that glowed through the rain. His face twisted in something like sleep. Or agony.

A message burned above him: I WARNED YOU.

Jae’s mouth went dry.

He remembered the name. Whispers from forums. A name the older hunters never said directly.

The Hollow Binder.

“She erases bloodlines.” “She doesn’t speak in court because she writes her own.” “She once sealed a lake shut with a single oath and the bones of a king.”

He thought those were stories. Fairy tales made of fear and glamour.

But this?

This was real.

He turned and ran. Fast as his legs could carry him.

Because if the stories were real… And if The Hollow Binder was walking again…Then none of them were safe. Not even the good ones.

AN: No thoughts, just vibes and one (1) dumbass who decided to square up with a whole myth. To everyone who said the manager was just "mysterious girlboss support staff"—how’s your foot taste? 😌 Anyway, don’t mind her! She’s totally normal, definitely not erasing bloodlines on weeknights or dragging idiots through the veil in waterproof boots.

Taglist: @poem-bee @gremlinartstudio @wantstoliveinfantasy @lovely-maryj @buggaboobich @idkokfu @osball @tenaciouskittenpuff @venommie @honey-and-sweetdreams @luna-looniesblog @lyunsafebubble @tulnukaz @levifiance @mysteris-things @aerissblog @anxiousskylar @downbadgirlypoo @misdollface @renchai @rithalie-sideblog @tsukimoon-chan @reixtsu @ghostiiess 

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Hi!

Can you please write about Gihun surviving the S3 games and returning home to female reader (his girlfriend who already knows about the games)?

The 222 baby also survived and Gihun returns home with the baby.

Gihun and reader take care of the baby together.

Home, Finally

Characters: Seong Gi-Hun X fem!reader

Summary: Above in the request🩷

Warnings: Mentions of Squid Game trauma and implied past death/violence (not graphic)

You weren’t sure what to expect when you opened the front door.

You’d barely slept the night before—not with the knowledge that he was still there, not with your heart twisting in your chest like a rag being wrung dry. All you could do was wait.

And then, sometime just before dawn, there was a knock.

And there he was.

Gi-hun.

Alive.

Standing on your doorstep with tear-reddened eyes, scruff along his jaw, and a small bundle of cloth clutched in his arms.

“Hi,” he whispered, voice raw. “I—I came home.”

You stared. The breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding escaped you in one trembling gust as you stepped forward and threw your arms around him.

He didn’t even flinch. He just melted into you, arms wrapping around your back like he’d never let go again. The baby between you stirred with a soft sigh, and you finally pulled back, looking at the bundle in his arms.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s 222. The baby. She—she made it. I couldn’t leave her behind.”

Tears prickled your eyes.

“Can I…?” you asked softly.

He nodded.

You took the child gently into your arms, stunned at how small she was. Only a few days old. Soft tufts of black hair, big curious eyes peeking up from the bloody jacket she was wrapped in. Her cheeks were full, but she was too quiet. Tired. Curious.

“She hasn’t cried much,” Gi-hun said, rubbing his face. “It’s like… she knows what happened.”

You looked at him.

You knew. You knew what happened in that place. He had told you before—after the first time he came back changed, empty, and bleeding in places no one could see. You’d stayed anyway.

And you’d stayed again when he said he was going back.

But now… now he was here. And he brought someone back with him.

“She’s safe now,” you said gently, rocking her. “You both are.”

He dropped to his knees in the hallway, overwhelmed.

You joined him on the floor, still holding the baby between you.

“I couldn’t save them all,” he whispered. “But I saved her. I kept my promise.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead against his.

“That’s enough, Gi-hun. That’s more than enough.”

The first few nights were hard.

She didn’t sleep much, always hungry.

Neither did he.

He’d wake up drenched in sweat, breathing hard, clutching your side of the bed until you curled into his arms and whispered that it was over. That she was in the next room, safe. That he was home.

She’d cling to him like a lifeline, as if she somehow knew he was the one who carried her out of hell.

Sometimes she’d cry in the middle of the night, and you’d both go to her—Gi-hun holding her while you warmed a bottle, the two of you humming lullabies you barely remembered learning.

“She doesn’t even have a name,” he said one evening, holding her on his lap while you cut strawberries at the counter.

“Not yet,” you replied gently. “You get to choose one now.”

He looked down at her. She looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting, a little smudge of yogurt on her chin.

“…Won-Young” (get it?) he murmured finally. You smiled. “It suits her.”

Won-Young cooed, testing the name like she already knew it belonged to her.

The days turned soft.

Won-young grew, now a lively little girl. Running around and giggling.

Gi-hun—your Gi-hun, the one who used to laugh so hard his shoulders shook—began to return in pieces. He still had a haunted look in his eyes sometimes, but when Wonnie (nickname) tried to feed him her snacks with chubby hand, he smiled.

When you watched the two of them curled up on the couch, him reading a board book and her snuggled on his chest, something in your heart healed a little too.

One morning, you found him at the table scribbling something on a napkin.

A list.

“Diapers, fruit pouches, baby socks, bubble wand,” you read aloud.

“She likes bubbles,” he said sheepishly. “I figured we should make a day of it.”

You kissed his temple. “You’re doing great, you know.”

He blinked at you. “Even after…everything?”

“Especially after everything,” you said. “You came home. You brought a child with you. You could’ve given up in that place, Gi-hun, but you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t let her die,” he said softly. “She was too small. Too innocent. Everyone else…” His voice faltered. “She gave me something to live for when I thought I didn’t have anything left.”

You squeezed his hand.

“Well,” you said, watching wonnie play with a stuffed bunny on the floor, “now you have us.”

That evening, the three of you went to the park. Wonnie waddled along the grass in tiny pink sandals, her laughter echoing as you blew bubbles into the air.

Gi-hun chased after her like she was made of porcelain and joy.

When she reached out and called, “Gigi!”—her first real word you had helped her learn—he dropped to his knees, arms wide, eyes wide with disbelief.

She ran into his arms like she’d been doing it her whole life.

He looked over at you, tears in his eyes.

You nodded, heart full.

“Home,” you whispered later, when you tucked Wonnie into her crib and climbed into bed beside him. “You’re really home now.”

He held you like the world would end if he didn’t.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re home.”

And finally, for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt like it would be okay.

[sinfiction]

Hey There, Roomie

Mark Grayson/Reader | Interactive Fic

Warnings: None, NSFW

Mark Grayson was the best roommate a broke college student living off-campus could ask for. He seemed… sweet, if a little guarded—the kind of guy you could trust to share a living space with. You never would have expected that he was a literal superhero... if he hadn't accidentally flown in through your window one night while your were stark naked in the middle of a little... self love. You definitely never expected him to stay.

When you decided to rent an off-campus apartment for college, you really weren’t trying to have a guy roommate, but when Mark Grayson answered your ad, you decided to give it a go.

He seemed… sweet, if a little guarded—the kind of guy you could trust to share a living space with.

And it turned out to be a pretty good decision on your part. Mark’s not the perfect roommate—he’s been known to leave a mess here and there, and you find yourself doing the dishes he leaves around more often than not, but in the grand scheme of things you could definitely do a lot worse in the roommate department.

Over the months that you’ve been renting together, you and Mark have become pretty good friends. When neither of you are buried in homework—and sometimes, even when you are—you have a blast kicking his ass at Mortal Kombat, or lying on the living room floor with him, watching some shitty B list horror movies over pizza and ice cream…

Because you’re both broke college students and you’ve yet to buy a couch.

But there’s still a lot you don’t know about Mark.

For example, where he disappears to after that weird pager sounds off… It’s not really your business—like, at all—but if you didn’t know any better you’d assume he has some weird government black ops job.

Hell, he’s come home beat to hell more than once. A lot more than once, to the point where you’ve started keeping a pretty robust first aid kit in the bathroom to patch him up when he drags himself through the door looking like he’s halfway to death’s doorstep. 

You’ve asked him a grand total of once, but… he made it very clear that it’s not something he can tell you about. Anything about. The look in his eyes was impossible to argue with, so you finished up his stitches and minded your own business.

Besides, it’s not like Mark stays hurt for long. You swear he must have some kind of mutant gene with how quick he bounces back.

Maybe he’s a superhero…

Ha. No. There’s no way you’d have a superhero for a roommate… they have like, headquarters, you’re pretty sure.

All in all, he’s a pretty great roomie, and you’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

Which is why, under no circumstances, do you… give yourself a little self care while he’s home. You’re not exactly known for cumming quietly, and you’re pretty sure you’d die if he heard you.

Partly because… you have an insane crush on him. A real crush, worse than when you were in high school awkwardly fumbling around romance for the first time.

Which you feel absolutely horrible about. 

The entire reason you wanted to avoid having a male roommate is because you were afraid of them catching feelings and making things weird, but here you are, pining over Mark Grayson like some teenager doodling hearts in her notebook.

But, Mark isn’t here right now, and you know he’s usually gone a while when he gets a message on that pager, so you finally have plenty of time to yourself to relieve the tension that’s been burning you up lately.

What you’re not aware of, however, is that while you’re going around your room lighting your scented candles and putting on some music to set the mood, a certain superhero is flying home, exhausted after stopping a whole ass plane crash.

So exhausted in fact, that when he finally makes it back to his apartment, he climbs in through the wrong window.

That’s how you find out that your roommate, Mark comic book nerd Grayson, is Invincible.

And that’s how he finds out what you look like naked, fingers between your legs in an intimate moment that was supposed to be private.

“Oh my god…” falls from his lips, and even though you can’t see his eyes through the lenses of his mask, you can feel them on you… 

Until he suddenly startles, entire body going rigid. “Oh my god. Shit, Shit. I’m in the wrong room. I am so fucking sorry. Shit.”

There’s no mistaking that voice. Even if you hadn’t been sure before he opened his mouth, there’s not a doubt in your mind that your roommate… actual superhero Mark Grayson… is standing in your candlelit room, trying—and failing—to not stare at your naked body while your best fuck me music is playing.

What are you going to do about it?

💛 💙 Continue the Story on Glimmer 💙 💛

[bucksaiga]

A year on Jupiter

Tommy walked through the door after a long shift at Harbor Station. Becoming captain 5 years ago wasn't in his initial life plan. Neither was their 7 year old, 4 year old, or the newborn they recently adopted. Hell, getting back together with Evan wasn't in the cards nearly 12 years ago either.

Yet here he was. Not a damn thing he'd do differently. 

He went upstairs and stopped by their son's nursery and softly kissed his forehead, then made his way to their 7 year old's room, a smile forming on his lips.

"Are we pretending to be sleeping?"

"No." A muffled, giggly answer was heard from beneath the covers.

"Put away the screen." Tommy shook his head. "I swear, you're just like your father."

"Which one?" 

Tommy chuckled. "Very funny." He tucked him in. "Sleep. You have a test tomorrow."

"I know. I studied a lot with dad."

"I bet. You know dad loves astronomy."

"Mhm!" 

He planted a kiss on their son's forehead before making his way to their daughter's room.

She was fast asleep, stuffed bunny nearly falling on the floor and her blanket halfway off. She was somewhat of a wild sleeper. Anytime she'd crawl into their bed, someone was definitely getting kicked.

Tommy moved her bunny onto the bed, fixed her blanket and shifted her slightly, relieved she didn't even stir. He kissed her forehead and moved on to his and Evan's bedroom, where he found him on the bed with a rose in his mouth and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries in front of him. 

"Hi." Tommy smiled. He glanced around, finally noticing the candles on their night tables. "What's all this?"

Evan took the flower out of his mouth. "Happy Anniversary!"

Tommy narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Our 12 year anniversary is next month, sweetheart."

"Actually, it's our one year anniversary."

Now, Tommy was even more confused. "I'm not following."

"Did you know it takes 11.86 Earth years for Jupiter to complete one orbit around the sun?"

"Ah." Tommy nodded in understanding, settling on the bed with Evan. "All these Earth years and you haven't stopped being adorable." 

Evan offered Tommy a strawberry. "Here's to at least 5 more Jupiter years together."

"That's a pretty long time. Think we'll live that long?"

"Mm...yeah." Buck considered. "We're stubborn."

The couple laughed together, sharing strawberries and kisses, looking forward to all the Jupiter years ahead of them.

give me kudos? ♡

[askthehedgehogs]

[Hello and welcome to askthehedgehogs Wedding 2.0! If you're not familiar with the ask blog, check it out for context, or just enjoy a contextless fic + art in which Sonic and Shadow get married (again). Pt 5/6! START | PREV | NEXT]

Wedding: 2.0 Chao Gardens 5th Mission: Escape your own wedding!

Neither Sonic nor Shadow particularly wanted to be on the dance floor any longer than they had to be, so they humoured their friends with a quick dance each (Sonic with Amy, then Tails, then Cream; Shadow with Rouge, then Cream, then Amy) before making their move to escape the dance floor.

They wove their way through the crowds slowly, trying not to draw attention to themselves, lest anyone catch on to the fact that they weren’t partying at their own party. Trying to be casual about it meant they kept having to stop and mingle with guests they hadn’t yet had a chance to catch up with.

They made pleasant small talk with Blaze and joined her for a moment, as she watched Silver and Espio attempt to dance together without either of them wanting to lead.

They found Big and his partner, and cooed over the tiny bowtie Froggy was wearing.

They almost trampled the Classics, mini Sonic letting out a startled squeak while Classic Shadow cursed out Regular Shadow for not looking where he was going. It turned into a full blown argument between the two Shadows, only ending when their respective Sonics dragged them away. Full-sized Sonic looked back over his shoulder in time to see his pint-sized counterpart goading his reluctant Shadow to dance with him.

Rouge and Knuckles were sloppily making out (gross), but made no move to stop the two hedgehogs on their mission to escape the overwhelming crowds.

They made a quick pit stop at the cake. Sure, Amy had assured them that the caterers already set aside a few tiers for the happy couple to keep for themselves, which would be hand delivered to Shadow’s apartment by Amy the next day, but Shadow wasn’t leaving without tasting that coffee frosting.

Oh, so worth it.

Sweet cravings satisfied (and with another glass of champagne in each of them), Sonic suddenly perked up. He had a dangerous glint in his eye, a look that Shadow could never get enough of.

Sonic stood, holding his hand out to Shadow, who raised an eyebrow as he took it. “What are you planning, hedgehog?”

“We’re getting out of here.” Sonic grinned. “Up for a race?”

Shadow smiled, standing as well. “Where to?”

“Home.”

“What about Darkness?”

“Cream’s already got everything she needs to take care of her while we’re on our honeymoon, right?” He shrugged. “I’m sure she won’t mind taking her a day early.”

The hedgehog hybrid looked hesitant.

“C’moooon, Shadow!” Sonic tugged at his arm. “Don’t leave me hanging!”

“... All right. Let’s go.”

Sonic grinned, bending his knees slightly. “Think you can keep up~?”

Shadow rolled his eyes, kicking his airshoes into gear. “I think you know the answer to that by now.”

And with that, they were gone in a brilliant flash of blue and red.

[witheringlilies-if]

DEMO (10k) last updated -> 14/07/2025

All Those Withering Lilies is an interactive fiction story inspired by puella magi madoka magica, neon genesis evangelion and 2000s magical girl anime like tokyo mew mew and shugo chara. It follows lilies, children and young adult raised in artificial dream machines, granted powers through a desperate wish, and tasked with suturing invisible wounds across the world. Sent alone to different cities, they fight magic no one remembers and live lives no one sees.

This is a story about manufactured purpose, buried memory, and the quiet rebellion of those who were never meant to survive. It explores intimacy, identity, and the slow cost of obedience.

Lilies work alone. They always do.

It has been eleven years since you bloomed. Eleven years of service to humanity. You have closed wounds no one else could see, stitched the world back together in silence. No one has ever thanked you, except maybe your handler, the woman who has given you missions since you were a child.

You are a soldier, a spy, a witch. Something unknown that blends all three.

For eleven years, you have lived in the same city. You move through life with a cover story, a fake family who took you in without knowing what you were. You have colleagues who smile too wide, who try too hard to include you. They do not know why you're really on this earth.

Lilies work alone. Teams are only created when a single lily is no longer enough.

Yet now, three lilies have been sent to the same small town.

Liseron is quiet, distant, and forgettable. The wounds should not be frequent enough to justify a team. Something is wrong.

You are one of these lilies, and all three of you have entered your eleventh year.

Lilies always wither after twelve.

You have one year left to live. What will you do with it?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪choose the name you use as a cover, your gender, the type of wish you made, your appearance from the color of your hair to whether you have freckles or piercings! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪rebel or obey. be a good lily and die quietly or learn the truth behind it all. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪choose between four romance options, as the famous song goes: "kiss kiss fall in love"!

RHEA/RAPHAEL (f/m) ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ if they were a trope, they'd be rivals to lovers.

You weren’t supposed to get along, and you don’t. R is volatile, proud, and impossibly skilled. Every interaction is a contest, every glance a challenge. But when it matters, they’re always by your side, teeth bared and ready to burn the world down. Maybe it’s loyalty. Maybe it’s something messier. Whatever it is, neither of you can stop.

LUNE/LYSANDRE (f/m) ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ if they were a trope, they'd be tragic devotion.

They are always there. Quiet, steady, careful not to take up space. You have lost count of how many times they stepped in without being asked, how many times they chose your safety over their own. They never ask for anything in return. But sometimes, you catch it. A glance that lingers too long. A silence that stretches into longing.

SERAPHINE/SAMAEL (f/m) ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ if they were a trope, they'd be forbidden love.

They are not supposed to exist. You were never meant to meet them. And yet you do, again and again. In places no one should be, in dreams that do not belong to you. They speak in riddles, vanish without warning, and pull you closer every time. You know you shouldn’t trust them. You do anyway.

XIAOFAN (f/m) ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ if they were a trope, they'd be single parent romance.

They have something you were never meant to touch. A home. A child. A reason to live beyond the work. They should keep their distance, and at first they do. But you feel it, the way they soften around you, the way hope creeps back into their voice. They know how dangerous this is. They let you in anyway.

[anticapitalistclown]

can I request marriage hc with the first gen? like how's the wedding, honeymoon, kids etc.. pleaaseee and thank you <3

sure! <3

Married life headcanons with the first generation, pt.1

Taesoo Ma

proposal: With Taesoo, the proposal was simple yet meaningful. The king of Ansan is a man of few words but, when he speaks, he means what he is saying. Taesoo decided he was going to propose to you when in his mind, he couldn't think of a future without you, after that same thought he was already on his way to a jewelry store to buy you a ring.

It was during dinner, on his mountain cabin, you just took a shower while he was cooking, you still had your hair wet and sat on the table. He prepared the table and started speaking about having a future with you, and then he just kneeled down, not even minding about the food getting cold.

wedding: The wedding was humanist (that meant that there were non-religious elements), it took place on a fancy venue with views from the mountains and sea. It was mostly private, only your family and friends and obviously his students.

honeymoon: You went on a luxury safari honeymoon (you can take the man out of the mountains but not the mountains out of the man). The mix of adventures and romantic ambience made your honeymoon amazing! He would never forget the experience of bathing with you in your hotel room's jacuzzi and while watching zebras and elephants walking around.

home: Taesoo could never think of separating you from your daily life, so he decided to buy a house near the mountains he owns, closer to the city. The cabin in the forest remains now a love nest for when you both want to rest from everyone and enjoy each other's to the fullest.

kids: Although he would have thousands of kids with you, Taesoo is really thoughtful, first he would let you decide on how many kids you want, how much he can provide and if you have more than one, he would think of an age gap where you don't get overwhelmed by taking care of too many kids but not a big age difference to make your kids feel like strangers neither to give the oldest the burden of raising the youngest.

For Taesoo the perfect number would be three, each one three or four years apart. He would make the time to help you raise them and bond with them, as a family and individually.

Jichang Kwak

proposal: Jichang knew since you both started dating that you were meant to each other, yet he decided to propose when he felt you two were on the age of people pressuring you both to get married.

He was not much of a showman, but the proposal was made with detail. After work, he would always wait for you to walk back home together, that noon was warm, and you walked in a comfortable silence back home. It was when you made your way to the entrance that you saw your terrace with lights, candles, flowers and a well set table, when you turned to him to thank him for the detail he kneeled and took the box with the ring.

wedding: The wedding was a mix of traditional Korean wedding and humanist, the traditional side was for the ceremony and the humanist was for the banquet. The people from the town, family and a few first generation kings were invited. The wedding took place on the town's temple and then a venue his brothers prepared on your new place.

honeymoon: Your honeymoon was in Bora Bora, you spend your honeymoon bathing on crystal water beaches, eating ice cream, and having each other's company on the hotel room while watching the amazing sea scenery.

home: A big Hanok house, with heating floors and a big garden. He had his eye set on that property the moment it was on sale.

kids: Jichang is also thoughtful, he would never make his children experience the pressure of taking care of the youngest siblings, he doesn't regret raising his brothers, but he could never make his children bear with that. So he would have only one, if you both feel like you could raise a second child without neglecting in any ways the first, then he would reconsider for a second child.

[kaywa25]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃.

------ natasha romanoff - appetence part iii

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : The Siren. A formidable assassin, inspiring just as much fear as the Black Widow, if not more. Her name came from her...unique ability. The stories could almost be seen as myths. Yet, the Black Widow knew the stories. She grew up aiming to be the best, and the Siren was the one person who could ruin years of survival in a single moment. What a coincidence, then, that the two most dangerous assassins in the world ended up pledged to the same government intelligence. What were the chances that both sinners were saved, only to be each other's downfall?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : natasha romanoff x fem!oc

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : mentions of the Red Room

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2141

--------- 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 |

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐢𝐢

(n.) : an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

The idea of designating a space for people who worked together—most of which being strangers—to eat as a collective was an odd thing, even for Americans.

Dining rooms and kitchens were understandable for the universal tradition of eating meals with family. Friends could also be an exception, but only if these friends were true and not just out of convenience.

Eating was a private thing. To eat meant to allow yourself to relax, to fulfill the beckonings of your stomach and support the functions of your body. Eating was just as sacred as sleeping, yet the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to think nothing of it.

A few months ago, Natasha Romanoff would rather commit a felony than be forced to sit with her "coworkers" and eat in front of each other as if they enjoyed each other's company.

Well...Natasha Romanoff already had an extensive list of felonies she was responsible for, all for various reasons, but it wasn't like she wanted to be a felon. It was more of a means to an end—the end being her life if she so much as made a false step in the field.

That was another odd thing—the idea that, now, Natasha Romanoff did not have to fight to live. That she could sit at a circular table surrounded by other circular tables occupied by people who laughed and joked in front of other people who laughed and joked and not have to look over her shoulder.

But not having to didn't mean that she didn't. Because trust was not something Natasha Romanoff gave out freely, let alone completely. It had taken her months to get used to the Canteen, and only just recently became comfortable enough to eat there. She never had the food that was served—and, Natasha didn't think she'd ever reach the point where she would ever be fully comfortable eating food she hadn't seen prepared—, but neither did Clint Barton, her only friend.

The only reason she ever came to the Canteen was because of him. Everyday he insisted that she get out of her apartment or give the training room a break in favor of getting something to eat with him. The first time he had suggested it, Natasha had stared at him as though he were speaking one of the few languages she didn't know. Now, it was a tradition: everyday Clint would drag Natasha to his apartment where he would make them lunch (sometimes breakfast if he managed to find her in time), and everyday he would ask Natasha what she wanted even though her answer had been the same for the past two weeks, and everyday they would walk into the Canteen and pick the same table in the upper right corner that was always empty when they got there.

The table had been her pick, as she had insisted that if she had to be tortured in such a way that she at least pick the vantage point. It had become her favorite pastime to people watch, taking the time to examine the other agents she may work with in the future—find out their connections, the way they held themselves, how they interacted with others. The best part was when they'd feel her stare. She could see the moment when they debated turning to meet her head on. She would guess at how long they'd last, and then they would meet her eyes and she would smirk at being right.

She was just about to get the attention of an Agent Kirk when something shifted in her peripheral. Without so much as a glance, Natasha slapped Clint's hand when it got too close to her sandwich and frowned at his shout of surprise. For good measure, she picked the sandwich up swiftly and glared as she took a possessive bite.

Amused, Clint shook his head.

"Are you ever gonna get sick of peanut butter?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow and took another pointed bite before putting the rest of her sandwich down.

"You ever gonna give up your chicken tenders?"

Before he could reply, she moved, reducing his plate to only four, sad nuggets. Clint glared at her as she smirked in triumph, though he was far from upset—in fact, he was more than a little satisfied because at least now she was eating.

Footsteps, which Natasha had expected to walk past them since no one ever dared approach her, came to a stop on Clint's right. Agent Maria Hill, without so much as a greeting, placed her bowl of salad on the table and sat down.

Agent Maria Hill was a woman Natasha respected. Anyone else would've thought twice before sitting with the Black Widow, yet Hill didn't even hesitate. When she passed the other woman in the halls, Hill never lowered her gaze or cowered in Natasha's presence, even going so far as to acknowledge her from time to time.

It wasn't that Natasha didn't like the collective fear the other agents had of her—and she didn't exactly make it easy for them to gather the confidence to stand up to her—but it was nice to know that some people didn't only see Natasha as the Black Widow.

And also, Natasha liked a strong woman, no matter the circumstances.

Clint glanced around curiously before steeling his gaze on Maria, who hurriedly consumed her meal as though she thought it would run away.

"What happened to your shadow?" he asked.

Hill made a noise of annoyance at the reminder. Natasha raised a brow, and Clint addressed her unspoken question.

"You know Agent Castello? Dark hair, odd eyes? I think I told you about that mission we had in London."

Natasha nodded for him to continue, recalling the agent who was also a close friend of Clint's. From what Clint had told her, Agent Castello was an exceptional interrogator and infiltrator. Natasha hadn't seen him yet, but she knew of his code name: Silver Tongue. An enhanced who could force people to do whatever he wanted—a master manipulator with enough high end assassinations under his belt to be considered a threat.

"Yeah," Hill confirmed before turning to Clint. "Now that he can't bother you, he's been tailing me for the last three months. I swear Fury pairs us on missions together just to spite me.

"But," she continued with a sigh, "now that his sister is here, I can get my alone time back. I'm not even sorry for her."

At one point, Clint paused to look at Hill with pure surprise.

"She's back already?"

"What, do you live under a rock?" Hill retorted. "I can't go anywhere in this building without hearing about it. Apparently the Nove Vidas weren't as invincible as they seemed."

At that, Natasha's interest in the conversation peaked, and she turned from where she was watching a poor intern scramble to get the coffee stain off his shirt after he caught her staring to focus more on the two agents at her table.

The Nove Vidas was a dangerous mafia stationed in Salvador, Brazil, with their members almost impossible to identify and even more difficult to gain information from. They were loyal to the bone—interrogation was useless because they'd rather commit suicide or give out a false lead before betraying their "family". Taking them down was doable, but even Natasha would struggle to accomplish it on her own, let alone in such a short amount of time.

"And she did this all on her own?" Natasha questioned.

Hill hummed. "If she's not with her brother, Truth Castello prefers to work alone. You probably know her better as the Siren."

The Siren.

An even better, more well respected spy than Silver Tongue. Natasha had never even realized that they were related, but it made sense in a way.

The Siren inspired just as much fear as the Black Widow, if not more. Her name, like her brother's, came from her...unique ability.

The Siren could reveal any man's deepest, darkest secrets with as little as a friendly smile. No one knew how she did it, but there was simply no resisting her—those who've tried weren't fully sane to tell the tale, if they even survived the effort.

Even without her powers, she was a formidable martial artist. Her knives never missed their mark, and the signature whip she carried, a difficult weapon to master, left little hope for those who opposed her.

When Natasha was younger, better known then as Natalia Romanova, she had heard stories of the Siren. They were a common topic for the Red Room, where surviving was a daily mission, where one mistake could warrant your death.

The Siren had been a potential enemy. If none of Madame B's students could do something as simple as assassinate a president or withstand every interrogation method there is, what hope would they have against the Siren?

Natalia didn't want to die. And so, even an utter of the other little girl who carried out vengeance like the good, silent assassin she was spurred Natalia Romanova to be better than her best.

Because if she wasn't better, the day the Black Widow and the Siren crossed paths would be the day Natalia lost.

And Natalia never lost.

What a coincidence, then, that the two most dangerous assassins in the world would end up pledging themselves to the same government intelligence.

What were the chances that both sinners were saved?

"Maria!"

Natasha came back to herself at the sound of Hill's groan and watched as a young man sat across from her on Hill's left with a bright smile. Their table had never been so crowded.

The man nudged Hill with his shoulder. "Did you hear—"

"Yes," she answered. "Your sister is here and you haven't seen her in months, hence why you should be bothering her instead of me right now."

He sighed and slouched in his seat.

"She had to debrief with Fury..."

It was only then that he noticed Clint at the table, and when his eyes fell on Natasha, he gaped and quickly sat up to extend a hand.

"I'm, uh, Agent Michael Castello."

Natasha glanced at his hand, then studied his face carefully. He was good, she'd give him that, but the reaction of the man in front of her was not the reaction of someone who was the brother of the Siren. He had been aware of her presence since before he sat down, and he knew exactly who she was. He was playing an act, but Natasha did not know what his goal was.

And Natasha didn't like not knowing things.

After a few seconds, Natasha accepted his hand, firmly to get her message across, and held his stare.

"Natasha Romanoff."

Castello raised an eyebrow, and, with an impressed smirk, he let go. Natasha felt as though she'd passed some sort of test.

"Yeah, I heard a lot about you," he said. "You and Clint are like the new duo, right?" Then, gesturing between himself and Clint he added, "He and I are like besties."

Natasha looked at Clint, who faced Castello with a deadpan stare.

Castello shrugged, leaning back to cross his arms. "That's kind of his normal face anyway. He doesn't like to admit it, but he misses me."

Clint only shook his head in exasperation before returning his attention to his food. Satisfied, Castello then moved forward to put his elbow on the table as he whispered to Natasha.

"You know, between us? I don't think you're as scary as they say you are."

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she sized him up.

Clint, seeing her look, chuckled.

"Oh, you shouldn't have said that."

"What?" Castello questioned. "She can't be worse than—"

When he turned to look at her again, she was leaning against the table, hands clasped beneath her chin as she fixed her eyes on him in a silent challenge. This close, she could see what Clint meant by his odd eyes, shielded behind curled, dark hair. They almost looked...purple.

Though a minuscule movement, it was hard to miss Castello's flinch at her sudden closeness before he subtly leaned away from her gaze.

She smirked as he began to nod his head.

"Okay," he said. "Eleven out of ten."

Good. That was what Natasha liked to hear.

Having made her point, she got up swiftly with her plate in hand and left. As much as she respected Clint, she felt as though she'd done her duties as a friend by keeping him company for a time.

When it was just the two of them, it was easier. But after a while, she needed a little break from people.

Now it was just her and her sandwich.

--------- 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @cd-4848

-> 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

[lt-riley83]

Here's a rough timeline for 09 Ghost that my mate @idk-i-just-write-tings and I worked out together based on the comics for a fic he's writing. We needed Riley as young as canonically possible, so we set his enlistment age at 18 (though I think he probably joined a bit later than that.) Comic panels (all sfw so no torture shown don’t worry haha) are at the bottom for evidence/examples of certain events. Hopefully they upload in order. Let’s go:

Start of timeline: 1983 — Year of birth no rank / 0 years

2001 — Enlistment after 9/11 happened *picture 1* pvt / 18 years

2002 — Out of basic training, possibly already aiming for SAS pvt / 19 years

2003 — This is the earliest he could've made it into the SAS. Any rank he earned during this time will therefore have been reset. pvt / 20 years

2004 — By now in the comics he's been promoted to Cpl as seen by the rank on his shoulder *picture 2*. (As far as I know this doesn't make much sense timewise, but this game sucks with ranks anyway.) Cpl / 21 years

2004-2006 — These are the years that he takes leave to go back home and fix his family. Within these years he kicks his father out and helps Tommy, who soon marries Beth. Cpl / 21-23 years

2006 — Here we had to begin theorising a little more. To be a liutenant he'd need to be commissioned, which means he'd need to undertake officer training. Usually this takes 44 weeks, however there is a shorter course for experienced soldiers, and since half a year has passed already for Tommy's marriage, *picture 3* let's put him on the 8 week course. Under Officer / 23 years

2007 — By now he will have finished officer training entirely and be a commisioned officer. 2Lt / 24 years

2009 — This is the year he gets sent to Mexico. By now he’s a Lieutenant. *picture 4* Usually it takes 3 years to reach this rank from 2nd Lt, but exceptions are made for certain officers if the higher ups deem them ready for a promotion. He’s captured early November of this year. Lt / 26 years

2010 — He remains captured until July of this year (9 months) although no specific date is given. His teammates escape moments before he’s taken to be buried alive. He digs himself out and manages to get across the border into Texas about a month later (August). Between then and December he’s in recovery. By December he wants to go back, but isn’t allowed to yet. *picture 5* Very soon after this is when his family is killed and he becomes Ghost. He goes back to Mexico and takes out Roba before Shepherd (I think??) finds him. Lt / 27 years

2011 — This is where the game COD 4 MW takes place. He's not in this campaign, we just thought it'd be useful to include this date. Lt / 28 years

2016 — Finally, this is the year that MW2 is set, five years after the first game. Here we finally meet Ghost in game. Lt / 33 years

That's it! If you find any mistakes please let one of us know!! We’re not perfect. Neither of us entirely agree with the ages in this timeline (we both think he joined later than 18), but for the sake of Shroom's fic we were trying to keep him younger than Cpt MacTavish whilst keeping it as cannon as possible. P.S. thanks Shroom for helping me with this! — Zip

[kredous]

The Covenant with the Ivory Snake

‘I want you to be my bodyguard.’

With adoration in his eyes, Nero gazed at the enormous horned figure in dark green armour. He contemplated the klaves resembling wings, as well as the trophies of the defeated foes that were hanging from them. Light danced inside the cracked green spirit stone on his horned helmet. A crack resembling a battle scar crossed the left lens of the white mask. Nero took a drag on his Iho-stick waiting for a response from the Dark Eldar. Yet the figure before him remained silent and motionless, like a statue. The xenos didn't even look in the Rogue Trader's direction. His eyes gazed off into the distance of the Dark City. The human's words were falling on deaf ears.

‘I will pay you enough in slaves, artefacts and provisions to satisfy you and your Shrine.’

The dark figure remained silent. Drukhari leisurely turned his back and walked away from the mon-keigh, who seemed to be wasting his time. Suddenly, the sound of a filthy human voice calling his name made him stop.

‘I don't know if Marazhai Aezyrraesh, the Dracon of the Reaving Tempest, has told you about our adventures together, but he has told me about you, Saimarith.’ Nero took another drag and noticed that the winged figure had stopped. He smiled ominously, triumphing in his success in winning the Drukhari’s attention back. Marazhai said the truth. Saimarith understood Low-Gothic. ‘I have a feeling that we both want the same thing. We both want to prove that we are the strongest among of our kind. I need your impeccable skills in battlefield to help me achieve that.’

The Drukhari moved his head slightly and looked askance at Nero. It was the first time their eyes met. The Rogue Trader and the Incubus stared at each other in silence for a while, neither moving. At last, the xenos turned his body fully around, fixing the mon-keigh with his gaze. A shift moment and Saimarith shortened the distance between them. Now he was standing uncomfortably close. He grabbed Nero’s chin with his clawed hand, harshly turning his head to the right side with a crack of the mon-keigh’s neck, revealing the Marazhai’s brand hidden under his black hair. Nero could feel the claws digging into his skin and blood running down his throat, but he didn't bat an eyelid.

‘Who am I going to make a covenant with? Is it you, plaything, or your master?’ Finally, Nero could hear the cold, deep voice coming from the pallid mask. It wasn’t the sickeningly sweet sound he was used to hearing. Unlike Marazhai’s, this voice was like an enveloping, dark, viscous swamp.

‘You make a covenant with me, a Rogue Trader of the Koronus Expanse. I can offer you far more than any Archon in Commorragh, Saimarith.’ Nero’s eyes were burning as he spoke with effort. ‘I know that you crave battles and slaughter more than torturing pathetic slaves at your disposal. I promise you gory battlegrounds and worthy opponents. Thousands of Worlds will be your arenas.’ A wide, confident smile cracked his face like another ugly scar. He felt the grip on his chin tighten. If it went on any longer, his jawbone would break, yet he didn’t resist, nor did he try to release himself from Saimarith’s grip. Adrenaline pounded through his head and his heart raced furiously in his chest. As the moment when the pleasure of the pain flashed through Rogue Trader’s body, Saimarith growled and released his grip. Nero’s chin was burning and his neck was aching as if a muscle tissue had been torn. The years he spent in Captain’s Chamber feasting with Marazhai paid off. No matter how intense the sensation is, he no longer flinches in pain like before. His “master” taught him to embrace and savour the agony until the last drop.

Saimarith cocked his head, appraising the human in front of him. He recalled how Marazhai had spoken about his pet as though it were his equal. That was intriguing. The Incubus still doubted whether he could trust this lowly creature and his promise. Although the mon-keigh was right, he longed for warfare and trophies from mighty warriors. The Archons in Dark City held him in low esteem, assuming that spying was the best his small Shrine could offer. Saimarith didn't remember the last time his Klaive praised Khaine’s name in a gory battle.

Centuries without battles and raids had weakened Saimarith's muscles, but not his spirit. He still remembered the time when his Shrine of the Poisoned Silence was renowned for its skilled, ruthless warriors. If he wanted to become the next Klaivex and change his Shrine for the better, he had to be stronger, otherwise, they would all perish. If a Kabal or a larger Shrine were to attack, they wouldn't survive. Most of his despicable brothers and sisters were cowards and weaklings who had forgotten how to wield a klaive. He wondered if the Dracon of the Reaving Tempest or his pet knew that.

The silence felt like an eternity. The air seemed to grow heavy. Nero gazed at Saimarith in anticipation, ignoring that deep wounds left by xenos' gauntlet on his chin kept bleeding. His expression turned serious. Rogue Trader couldn’t read Saimarith’s expression behind his pale mask, and it made him feel nervous.

At last, the Incubus nodded briefly. The covenant was made.

Nero grinned. Behind his crooked triumphant smile, he managed to conceal his genuine relief at the sickening tension. Finally, he took a long last drag on the Iho-stick before throwing it down and stubbing it out with his boot.

[aroaceofthesea]

Welp i just spent literally 8 hours on a videocall with friends its 2am and its storytime in the tags

Noooo i reached the 30 tags limit todomal im not rewriting shit tho so if the story feels abruptly ended thats why lol

[crescentfool]

with the year coming to a close, i hope that anyone who's reflecting about how the year went remembers to be kind and fair to themselves with how you evaluate the year as a whole.

i think there are definitely times when life throws things that are... Not So Great at you. whether if it's some external circumstance that surprised you, or maybe your mentality wasn't at it's best. i wish for anyone who's encountered those kinds of challenges to be able to triumph over them and be able to say that they got through it.

heck, it might still be a work in progress even though you've kept chipping away at it, and that's ok! the results will show themselves eventually as you work through it! and i hope that we can all remember to be patient with ourselves as we go through these processes (learning, healing, etc.), because damn, it can be frustrating when you feel like you're "not there yet."

knowing that life can be rough at times, i think it's unfair to yourself (and others) to discount and downplay any progress you've made this year- whether if it's something that you did for the first time, or maybe you came to a new understanding and insight that you didn't have in the previous year.

it's not to say that you should undermine the validity of your experience with hardship, but to take the time to remind yourself what makes life worth living. to recall what moments were the most satisfying to you- and use it to strengthen your resolve for the next year and beyond. no amount of hardship will ever take away from the fact that you deserve to have hope that things will get better.

i hope that looking back on the year, you don't leave out the things you cherish. that you can remember the good that came this year. whether if the small victories are things like meeting someone new, trying something out for the first time, or making some strides in a long-term project/obligation...!

i wish everyone a happy new year! may it be prosperous, and that your life can move in a direction that's close to what you want out of life. you're all going to do great! remember to congratulate yourself for what you did well! despite everything, you're still here, and that's wonderful. never forget that!

[luna-azzurra]

Fictional kiss prompts

Forbidden Kiss Prompts (“We’re not supposed to do this” but oops, we are)

a kiss in the shadows, hands clenched in fabric, trying to stay quiet because someone might hear.

“We can’t—if someone sees us…” — and then they kiss anyway, consequences be damned.

a stolen kiss through the bars of a prison cell, whispered promises of escape in between.

a “we’re on opposite sides” kiss during a truce, lips barely touching because if they kiss fully, they’ll never walk away.

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Angsty Reunion Kiss Prompts (“I thought I lost you” edition)

a kiss the second they see each other again—rough, breathless, and on the verge of falling apart.

a kiss interrupted by tears, hands holding like they’re afraid to let go.

“Why didn’t you come back?” whispered into their mouth between kisses.

a kiss where they pause halfway through just to look at each other, both a little older, a little more broken.

a kiss that tastes like salt and rain and survival.

Soft Domestic Kiss Prompts (Wholesome fluff to rest your soul)

a sleepy morning kiss, lazy and warm, exchanged without even opening their eyes.

a kiss planted absentmindedly on the top of the other’s head while making tea.

a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.

a soft kiss over a grocery list, mid-aisle, because “you looked too cute to ignore.”

the kind of kiss shared in bed while reading—just because one of them couldn’t help it anymore.

Post-Confession Kiss Prompts ( “Oh my god this is real” edition)

a kiss that stumbles right after the words “I love you,” like neither of them know what to do with their hands.

“You mean it?” — “Yeah.” — cue the most careful, reverent kiss of their lives.

a kiss that starts with laughter and ends in a dazed, overwhelmed silence.

one of them whispering, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” right before kissing them senseless.

a kiss that comes too fast after the confession, clumsy and colliding—because they’ve waited too long.

First Kiss Prompts (that change everything)

a kiss that starts mid-sentence, because one of them couldn’t wait one more second.

the trembling, breath-held pause right before their lips finally touch—eyes wide, hearts racing.

“If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway.

the kiss that’s followed by shocked silence, and then one of them blurts, “Okay… wow.”

the hesitant brush of lips—barely there—until one of them pulls the other closer like they’ve made up their mind.

Comfort Kiss Prompts (Love as a safety net)

a kiss placed gently on a trembling hand.

a kiss offered like a promise—“I’m here. I’m staying.”

a forehead kiss given after a nightmare, while whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be okay right now.” – kissed on the temple like a prayer.

the quiet, slow kiss after a panic attack, grounded in breathing and touch.

Jealousy Kiss Prompts (when emotions boil over)

a sudden, possessive kiss that shocks both of them—especially because they weren’t “together.”

a kiss to shut someone up mid-flirt—“They’re with me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” – “Because I saw you flirting with them.” – followed by a sharp, angry, perfect kiss.

the kind of kiss that starts in fury but ends in breathless “I need you.”

a kiss that screams “You’re mine. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

Accidental / Surprise Kiss Prompts

tripping and falling directly into a kiss—then freezing in shock as realization sets in.

a practice kiss to “make it look real” that very much does not stay platonic.

a drunken kiss that was supposed to be a dare, but lingers just a second too long.

mistaking the other person for someone else in the dark—“oh… wait—” – “don’t stop.”

an “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.

[lillilybells]

part two of the damian fic pls please pls

Family dinner II✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|damian wayne x reader

summary|Damian tries to keep his girlfriend a secret from his family, keyword, tries.

word count|1498 notes|don’t love this but I have an idea for a prequel of how Damian and reader met, might do that.

Family dinner masterlist

Damian walked out the bedroom door like a soldier going to war—jaw tight, brow furrowed, every step a reluctant march. His father stood with arms crossed. The silence in the manor was deceptive; his siblings were no doubt eavesdropping from around the corner.

“You have a girlfriend?” Bruce asked flatly, his voice low but not cold. It was how they always spoke now—blunt, clipped. Like neither of them knew how to step back into softer territory.

“Yes,” Damian answered without hesitation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bruce's expression was unreadable, but there was something behind his eyes—concern, maybe even guilt. He was trying to tread carefully, like a man desperate not to repeat the mistakes he made with his sons before.

Damian hesitated. Arms crossed, his posture rigid. “I didn’t want them to scare her off,” he muttered.

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded, slowly.

“I’d like to meet her,” he finally said. “Invite her for dinner. Tonight.”

And just like that, he turned and walked off, giving no room for argument—Damian groaned, long and dramatic, only to hear a chorus of hushed laughter echo from down the hall. His brothers. Of course.

He slammed the bedroom door behind him.

“(Name)! Are you ready yet?” he called, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, Dami,” you replied from the bathroom.

When you stepped out, Damian nearly forgot how to breathe. The dress you’d changed into was the one you were wearing for your date, formal—the only formal thing you had here, maybe a little much for a family dinner, but you looked stunning, and he wasn’t about to complain.

His brows furrowed. “My father wants you to join us for dinner…” he grumbled, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt.

“No date then?” you teased gently.

He grunted. “Tt. Apparently not.”

But you smiled. “I’d love to.”

He blinked. “…Great.”

And now, here you were, descending the staircase together. Damian looked… uncomfortable. His shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and he kept tugging at his collar like it was strangling him.

“Tt. I hate these shoes,” he muttered under his breath.

“Tell me about it,” you whispered back, glancing at your own heels.

“Wow,” Tim drawled as you hit the final step. “You two look like you just stepped out of a fantasy novel.”

Damian’s cheeks flushed the lightest pink. He glared at Tim with all the subtlety of a thrown batarang.

Before things could escalate, Alfred stepped in with impeccable timing. “Master Damian. Miss. I’ve saved you two seats.”

He led you two the table, placing you between Cassandra and Bruce, and across from Jason and Dick, who were already watching you like hawks.

“Sorry for ruining your evening plans,” Dick offered. He smiled, a little awkward, eyes flicking over your dress. “You both look great.”

You gave a polite smile in return. “It’s alright. I’ve wanted to meet Damian’s family for a while now.”

You felt Bruce’s gaze burning into the side of your face. He hadn’t said a word since you sat down, but you could feel him sizing you up like he was solving a case. You did your best not to squirm under it.

“So,” Jason leaned in, “does mystery girl have a name?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Damian cut in, voice like a whip. “Todd.”

It was more warning than name.

Still, he continued with strained politeness. “This is (name). Beloved, this is: Todd, Richard, Drake, Cassandra… and Thomas.” He introduced his father with a mutter.

You gave a little wave, the tension around the table pressing down like gravity.

“You seem… sweet,” Tim said, squinting like he was trying to see if your kindness was an elaborate ruse. “Too sweet for our resident demon.”

You blinked. “Damian can be sweet.”

The table went quiet.

Dick leaned in. “That’s a first.”

“What is?”

“Calling Damian ‘sweet’ unironically,” he replied, lips twitching into a grin. “And without being under duress.”

“I’ve seen him do very kind things, he once saved a cat from a tree in the middle of patrol.” you defended.

but everyone froze for a moment, turning toward Damian with a raised brow who’s jaw clenched, “yes, she knows.”

“Yeah?,” Jason chose to break the tension. “The only ‘kind’ thing I’ve seen him do is let a criminal lose one limb instead of two”

Damian scowled. “I’m right here.”

“And we’re still processing,” Jason said, sipping from his water like it was wine.

Bruce finally spoke. “So. How long have you two been seeing each other?”

You hesitated. Damian answered for you.

“A few months.”

“Seriously?” Duke’s brows raise.

“And you’re both serious?” Bruce continued.

“We’re still discovering what that means,” Damian replied carefully.

Bruce looked at him for a long moment, then nodded again—approvingly, you thought. “Just be honest. With her. And with yourself.”

It was possibly the most fatherly thing you’d ever heard him say.

Damian’s posture loosened slightly. “I will.”

You reached over under the table and gave his hand a squeeze. He looked at you briefly, then back at the table—face neutral, but his ears had gone pink again.

“Welcome to the circus,” Cassandra muttered, leaning toward you a little.

And oddly, despite the chaos, the scrutiny, and the wild cast of characters you were being thrown into… you smiled.

“Glad to be here.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Eventually Bruce pushed his chair back and stood, commanding the room like he always did—without trying. “Damian, a word?”

Damian tensed. “Tt.” Still, he got up and followed his father toward the study, casting you one last glance before disappearing into the hallway.

you almost grabbed him to make him stay, this was bad, you couldn’t possibly handle his siblings alone.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom really quick..” with that you stood up and disappeared down a hall.

The moment you were gone, the table burst into chaos.

“Oh my god she’s so normal,” Tim muttered.

“I give her two weeks,” Jason said.

“You all are rude,” Cassandra finally spoke, calmly sipping her tea. “She’s sweet. Damian needs someone who grounds him.”

“She’s right,” Duke added. “That boy’s been running around the city lovestruck, he’s so much gentler now.”

“Yeah, I’m doing everything in my power to make sure those two stay together.” Dick declared.

Meanwhile, in the Wayne study, Bruce closed the doors quietly before turning to Damian.

“She’s… good,” he said after a beat.

Damian blinked. “I know that.”

“I mean it, Damian. She’s grounded, she’s smart, and she’s not intimidated by this family. That says a lot.”

Damian crossed his arms, unsure where this was going.

Bruce hesitated. “You’ve been different lately. Softer. I assumed it was distraction, but… maybe it’s something better.”

“I care about her,” Damian said plainly, because he hated dancing around things.

Bruce nodded once. “Then don’t mess it up.”

“That was the plan, yes.”

Bruce smirked faintly. “She makes you happy.”

“She does.”

There was a pause—rare, but not uncomfortable. Bruce clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, Damian.”

The boy stilled.

He didn’t say anything in return, but his hands unclenched slightly.

Back in the dining room you’d returned and somehow been roped into a story-sharing contest about “the dumbest near-death experiences in Gotham,” and you were hearing stories that would make any rational person run screaming from this household.

“...and then Dick actually cartwheeled into a moving semi because he thought it was ‘a bold entrance,’” Jason was saying.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

“I survived,” Dick said cheerfully.

“Somehow,” Tim muttered.

When Damian returned, you guys had switched to the living room, his face immediately snapped to you; who had changed out of your dress into a top Cassandra lent you, makeup wiped off and smiling as Dick showed you Damian’s baby pics from a album he’d stolen from Talia.

Which said ‘baby’ was quick to snatch up before sliding back in next to you. His expression was unreadable, but his hand brushed yours, fingers curling loosely around yours.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He gave a short nod. “Father approves.”

You smiled. “I guessed. You didn’t look like you were preparing to jump out a window.”

“I still might,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward his siblings.

Bruce followed, and something shifted in the room. Not tense—settled.

Alfred reappeared with dessert, because of course he did, and the room fell into companionable chatter.

As the night wound down and the family drifted toward the den, you and Damian hung back in the hallway.

“They didn’t hate me,” you whispered.

“They don’t know how to process emotions,” Damian replied. “But for them? That was practically a standing ovation.”

You chuckled, resting your forehead lightly against his. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“I am. You… you make this place less insufferable.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” He smirked faintly. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For surviving them.”

[distuff]

Demon Boys' and Sharing

Featuring: : Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Mystery Saja, Romance Saja, Baby Saja Reader: gender neutral

📍Requests Please check HERE

_ _ _ _ _

Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ Jinu would argue to the demon realm and back that he was not possessive of what was his... maybe just a bit. But no one, and he means no one, had the proof of this besides the Magpie and the Tiger - and both swore to secrecy. He even made them sign non-disclosure agreements, since he didn't trust the damn bird.

🐦‍⬛ However, hypothetically, if someone from the guys were to, let's say, try and pet his Tiger... Jinu really didn't know where the demonic flame came from: "You know how moody Gwi-Ma can be," he would say with an 'innocent' smile, which was always met with unimpressed expressions from the guys.

🐦‍⬛ Safe to say, when Jinu introduced you to the others with a subtle threat that regarded your safety, the guys watched with unimpressed gazes as Jinu steered you to his room - neither feeling the need to warn you about Jinu's possessive nature. Too curious to see what their 'leader' would do once you touched the Tiger.

It was late afternoon when you and Jinu were resting on the couch in the guys' living room - you against Jinu's chest as he went through the latest notes of their song belonging to their newer album, Abby, Romance, and Baby all playing UNO on the kitchen counter - when it happened. You’d dated Jinu over a month now, taking the news of him and the others being demons as well as any human - by trying to run away, no matter how good-looking he was; self-preservation was strong. You got over it like any healthy couple would, calling it a bumpy road in your relationship that strengthened it more. So, seeing the neon-blue Tiger with large eyes that seemed to stare endlessly at you - and looked about ready for the eyes to bulge out - step, or rather prowl, very slowly towards you, you both felt a bit of the natural fear, but also— "Awwweee!!" You immediately sat up with glittering eyes - ignoring the way the trio at the counter snapped their heads towards you, eagerly awaiting Jinu's reaction - as you went and let the Tiger smell your hand. The Tiger, however, just slowly moved its head down, staring at the hand unblinkingly before it slowly bumped it and, after a second, started to purr without moving its head. Feeling a little creeped out but still filled with the cuteness, you started carefully petting it, marvelling at the softness. The trio's mouths dropped as they stared at how the Tiger was now attempting to crawl onto you, with Jinu just continuing to read through his notebook with laser focus, not minding that you - and now the large cat - were occupying his lap. "Fucking bullshit," Baby muttered before putting his lollipop back into his mouth and turning to the game.

Abs Saja

💪 Abby was the least possessive out of the five of them. Unlike the others, he reacted to none of your advances. You took a piece of the street food he bought? Go at it! You want more? You took his clothes? It's fine - he has more! You snatched his phone? He doesn't even know how to work with it! Want to teach him? Abby was attached to nothing you asked for and didn't consider anything that you took from him his.

💪 At least, that’s what it looks like until you decided to do laundry day. Having been dating for a month, you basically lived with the others in their shared apartment, where it was normal for yours and Abby's clothes to be just dumped together in one laundry basket and be done with - besides the underwear, of course. You were not that close... yet.

💪 So, imagine Abby’s surprise when he walked into his room and saw you holding what once was a gently woven bracelet that he had kept with him from his era before he was taken to the demon realm and chained by Gwi-Ma, now innocently being held in your hands - all destroyed.

💪 You looked confused when you glanced at him before your eyes widened. Abby didn’t know what he looked like as he silently walked towards you. He could only focus on holding onto the boiling anger that was fighting to seep through.

💪 Abby was silent when you gently handed him what once was his bracelet, gifted to him for 'luck'. He stayed silent when you walked past him, having to feel the tension seeping from him. He stayed silent once you gently shut the door behind yourself.

💪 Only then did Abby allow himself to let his demonic form take over, as his hands burned - setting the useless piece of strings on fire, leaving only a few ashes in his hands that easily fell down as he opened his palm, eyes cold as he watched it fall on the carpet below.

A few days had passed with radio silence between you and him. Abby didn’t know what to text you, what to tell you, what to do if he saw you - so, guessed it was a good thing you two had some space between each other. At least that was what Mystery was telling him while Abby was being held by the other three as he was currently trying to crawl towards the entrance door to go and track you. Demon senses be finally useful for other shit than smelling the lust on his fans or feeling itchy when wearing nothing but silk. "For the love of - stop squirming!" Jinu bit at him as he sat on his back together with Romance, while Baby was trying - and failing - dragging him back by his legs. "The pain, the sorrow, the tragedy!" Romance wailed as he placed his hand on his forehead dramatically, leaning back before he blinked and looked at Mystery with a deadpan expression, "What happened again?" he asked, all but disinterested. Before Mystery could answer, the entrance door clicked open, freezing the five of them in place and making the Tiger slowly tilt his head, causing the Magpie to squawk from nearly falling. When Abby saw you walking in with hesitation but a sense of determination - as you seemed to be clutching something to your chest - Abby all but easily got up, throwing down Romance and Jinu who flailed as they fell on the floor, glaring nastily at Abby, who ignored all of them as he all but sprinted towards you. Before you could react, you were suspended in the air as Abby twirled you with a large grin before gently setting you down and hugging you to his chest, nuzzling into your hair and taking in your sweet and savoury scent. The two of you ignored the guys shuffling and Baby’s gagging noise as they walked further into the apartment, leaving the two of you. After a moment, though, you tried to get out - which Abby was not making easier. "Abby, hold up—I... I have something for you..." you said, trailing off a bit, but it was enough to pique Abby's curiosity. Letting you go, Abby blinked down at you as you seemed to be gathering courage before you finally presented to him what you were holding to your chest. It was a messy replica of the bracelet you’d destroyed. With steady hands, Abby took it, inspecting it as you went on about how it took longer than you thought, how you paid for a course that taught this, and how you didn’t know it was from such a late era. "I mean, I just thought it was something you’d made when you were little," you chuckled sheepishly, "I didn’t know it was this old way of tying knots that was for protection—huh?" You stopped talking - cut off by the sudden hug from Abby. After a moment, you hugged him back as he nuzzled into your neck. Putting his hand on the back of your head, he pressed you further as he stared boredly at the bracelet in his hand with eyes seeping with glowing yellow and slitting a bit. A sharp grin made its way onto his face as he clutched the useless jewellery. Who cares about that shit anyway? With the painful distance you put him through, Abby realised he had something better than some bracelet. You. You were his - and he would die before he let someone destroy you, accidentally or not. You were Abby’s new ‘lucky charm’.

Mystery Saja

🐶 For such a silent being, Mystery wasn't surprised when the others thought he was... calm. Or rather, that he was reasonable. Human language was so complicated...

🐶 Mystery just chose to use his energy wisely. Teasing? Celebrating? The chaotic laughter the guys sometimes broke into in the middle of planning HUNTER/X's downfall? His desperate... puppies? What was the word Jinu said to call them— Ah... "Fans." All these, Mystery labelled as "Waste of energy," while everyone else labelled him as "Cool and Collected." ...Haaah.

🐶 It was Baby who first saw him snap. Mystery thought it was useful that the youngest of the demons saw him, as Baby was blunt to his very core and wouldn't make stuff up, unlike Romance or Abs. But he was gossipy enough to say it to others, unlike Jinu, who would keep it to himself.

🐶 It was only the two of them, as the other three were asked to join some body contest among other boybands, not needing all five of them. Baby was openly bored, and Mystery was openly ignoring him. That is, until Baby dragged himself to his bookshelf - neatly organised by genre and book title - and was about to pluck one from the Dark Noir section.

🐶 The only thing that saved the other one from having his fingers bitten off was his abnormal reflexes, as he sidestepped with bulging eyes, hand moving up and fingers twisting into sharp claws aimed at the danger - before Baby jerked, locking his demonic eyes with Mystery’s glowing ones peering up at him over his fringe. They were slitted horizontally, unlike the other demons, whose eyes slit vertically.

🐶 Mystery was crouched, a low growl vibrating from his chest as Baby watched the two upper canines grow, twisting out from his lips. There was a silence before Baby took a step back and relaxed his hand, his eyes seeping into dark steel blue as he scoffed - making Mystery ease and let his human form take over once more as he slowly rose.

🐶 Baby gave him a once-over before he huffed, turning to leave and flipping him off with his back to him. Mystery watched over his bangs before calmly returning to the couch to continue reading.

Baby, being the unfortunate victim, the young demon was all but traumatised by his senior, staying clear of that bookshelf from that day onwards. So... imagine the younger’s surprise as he slowly ate the disgusting cereal that tasted like wheat with milk he wanted to throw out - but couldn’t, because you, a human Mystery had taken as a pet, were here. Baby couldn’t even turn and glare at you as you were doing Gwi-Ma knows what, while Mystery sat near you reading - releasing the oppressive aura the guys found he had been holding back when you first showed up. Everything was relatively peaceful until you started to whine about having nothing to read. Mystery tilted his head, attention focused on you with piercing eyes through the thick fringe that Jinu said should be kept hidden for their bright intensity. He may have messed up a bit on the transformation he guessed. Mystery rested his hand with the book on his lap so you would see he was attentive to you, listening as you explained how you’d tried reading all sorts of books - even fics! - but none had caught your interest. He listened further as you described what sort of book you felt like reading and, without hesitation, he answered in a steady voice, "The twelfth row from the top - use the stepping stairs over there," he pointed first at his bookshelf, then at the hidden wooden stairs at the very end, before continuing - neither of you paying attention to the choking noises coming from Baby in the kitchen - "In the ‘O’ section, the book with the deep blue spine and silver letters. That one should be good for you." Mystery felt his hand twitch as you beamed at him, brushing his side strands - and thus brushing his cheek - with your gentle hand. You thanked him as you stood up and went to search for his book he’d described, all the while watching you sort through his bookshelf. Seeing all that belonged to him so close to one another made him roll his shoulders, and he straightened - releasing more of his demonic energy from how pleased he felt - followed by the sound of something, or someone, hitting the floor in the background. Your head finally snapped towards the sound, and with widened eyes you called out, "Oh my God, Baby!" All the while, Mystery only kept his eyes on you - his hair parting as he followed your hurried footsteps to look at the younger, revealing one of his eyes with a horizontal slit that expanded into a black moon.

Romance Saja

🌹 Romance was openly possessive. He saw no shame in protecting what was his. This also kept him away from the unnecessary stressful experiences where he would have to threaten one of the guys if they tried taking something of his.

🌹 It was just that easy! Romance always shook his head at the others' antics when one took or touched something of another, leaning away when he saw a wrinkle appear on one of their foreheads - prepping himself that day for some ‘spa time’ for himself and whichever member had such an imperfection on his face.

🌹 So, when you caught his attention and began to... date him - was that the new term that humans called the betrothal phase in the modern world? Jinu did say something on this topic, but Romance only remembers fixing his hair so it wouldn’t lose volume. ...Where was he...

🌹 Ah! Him, with you.

So when you started to become part of his routine and thus his life, you really believed you were getting any ‘special treatment,’ darling?

Flushed skin was one of Romance’s favourite sights, he thought, as he trailed a clawed finger over the bite marks on the back of your shoulder and arm, until he laced your fingers together and brought them to his lips - nibbling carefully with the set of sharp teeth that were a far cry from those in his full demon form. What was the point of hiding his true nature from you when you began dating, when he knew showing it would lead him exactly where the two of you were now? The two of you snuggling, your back against his chest, and coming down from such a satisfying moment. That is, until you began to stir - and Romance saw no reason not to let you go, curious to see what you were trying to do. Kiss him? Be the one to hold him? Another round, perhaps? Seems like neither, as he watched you, like a curious cat, rise. Still on his bed, you moved to the edge, with Romance following to see what you wanted to— A deep growl resonated through his room, freezing you as you reached down to take the shirt he wore today - the one you took off him before falling under his masterful hands that reshaped you each time. With owlishly wide eyes, you turned to him as he watched you with narrowed ones, no doubt dark carmine now overtaken by glowing gold and slitted pupils. His mouth was partly open, flashing his sharper teeth as his clawed hands dug into the duvet. He only stopped growling when you finally got the message and moved away. He huffed, watching as fear gave way to what could only be described as a mix of disappointment and hesitation on your face. Your eyes were turned downward, which Romance did not like. Gently, he placed a clawed finger under your chin and brought it up, his nose barely brushing yours as his golden eyes glowed, the slits expanding a bit as you locked eyes with him - his grin sharpening dangerously. “Silly human~” he cooed, brushing your cheek and placing his hand below your ear as he leaned forward, lips brushing yours as he spoke, "Can’t remember me telling you not to touch what is mine?" he all but growled the last word before devouring you that night once more. A few weeks after, Romance could still sense some longing from you. He didn’t understand the need for humans these days to share their clothes with their other half, but oh well… so be it. On that day, he went and bought you two matching sets of clothes. Teasingly dangling them in front of you, Romance told himself this set would be the first and the last. However, when you squealed and all but jumped on him - hooking your legs around his midsection before jumping off, grabbing your part of the set, and running into his room to change - only to come back in the colours he chose for you, Romance all but started cataloguing all the types of clothing you’d need. Romance still didn’t understand the notion of sharing clothes with your partner - dare he say humans were foolish in this day and age - as seeing you in the clothes he picked for you made him feel more like he claimed you than you wearing what was his.

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby could give two shits about the guys taking something of his. Jinu wanted to use his hairbrush? Go wild. Jinu should make sure he wouldn’t find a strand of black hair on it, though. Otherwise, Baby would plug the iron-pointed teeth of the brush and perfectly align it on Jinu’s mattress in a way he wouldn’t notice until bedtime.

🍼 Romance dressing him up and throwing out the clothes he bought for him? Hands raised - Baby would listen, not really caring as long as Romance left him alone for the rest of the day.

🍼 Abs lost another toothbrush? Here. But Baby wasn’t responsible for the spicy taste it had when he handed it to the tall demon. And Mystery wanting the cookie one of the braindead humans… cough, fans, gifted him with yet another baby bottle? ...Here. He’d give it, as long as Mystery got rid of that cursed bottle.

🍼 So no. Baby was not possessive, materialistic, territorial, or whatever other fancy word humans decided to use to describe the simple need to keep their deluded autonomy. Baby had none of that. He knew who and what he was - he didn’t need anything to prove it.

🍼 That was until you came into the picture. You were no different from the other humans - just another soul for Gwi-Ma to consume... or at least in the beginning. The closer you got, the more Baby wanted to keep your vibrant soul all for himself. They were allowed by their King to eat a few of the souls themselves, after all... not that you needed to know. Knowing he was a demon was enough for you - a selfish decision that allowed him to ease up some of the illusion and harness more energy, as well as be with you.

🍼 However, as a human once himself - and not that long ago turned demon too - Baby should have remembered humans were far too greedy~

It was just the two of you, the others having gone out, and since you refused to tag along, why should Baby bother? He was resting between your legs, sucking on a lollipop, watching some shitty story on that slim box Jinu called the “TV” - and the story a “movie with actors” - while you were doing your own thing. Baby didn’t move much when you stood up, telling him you needed some sugar to keep going. He hummed as he sucked on the lollipop, imagining it was the bitter-sweet taste of a human soul instead of the pungent medicine - sweet devotion and bitter fear - just like he liked it. He busied himself by commenting on the movie and how badly the humans played their part - until he suddenly stopped, mouth parted, the lollipop hanging loosely from his lips. His eyes widened in sharp alertness as his canines lengthened, easily cracking the candy between his teeth as his jaw snapped shut. His ears strained as he heard the faint sound of the glass cap being moved. Within seconds, Baby had your chest pressed against the kitchen counter, his own chest firm against your back, one hand gripping your wrist - the one holding the glass lid from the jar that held multiple lollipops. Even if Baby’s grip bruised, your fear of what he might do if the glass cap broke was stronger, and you didn’t let go. You saw Baby’s other hand - claws extended - near your face, as he leaned over, growling warningly into your ear, the vibration in his chest trailing down your spine. “Drop… it,” Baby growled, his already deep voice dipping lower, causing you to shut your eyes and obey. But instead of a shattering sound, your wrist was released. Cold air hit your flushed skin, and the second Baby’s chest moved away from your back, you immediately straightened and backed away - putting distance between yourself and the man- demon. You held your slightly burned wrist in your other hand, chest rising and falling, watching as Baby carefully placed the cap back onto the jar. Before he could turn, you followed your instincts and sprinted out of the guys’ apartment, praying he wouldn’t follow - needing time to process what had happened. Baby was not impressed. Three whole days without your attention. Instead, it was Romance, Abs, Mystery, Jinu - damn, even the stupid-looking chicken with that cat got your affection. All but him. He was not pouting, fuck you. How dare you still come to their apartment and ignore him - and for what? For him telling you - politely, mind you - to keep your hands off what was his? Baby’s glare hardened as he stood in the kitchen behind the bar counter, but you were too busy petting Jinu’s creepy cat that he’d somehow found down in the demon realm. Baby huffed when, instead of your gaze, he met the tiger’s unblinking stare - one that seemed to pierce through his hollowed chest. He looked away, eyes landing on the stupid jar that caused all of this. Fucking petty human, he growled internally, stepping forward and ignoring the hollow ache tugging him towards you - the urge to jump on you and demand why, why, whywhywhy! Instead, Baby grumbled as he walked over and snatched the cursed glass jar from its place, turning towards the living room.

Once his shadow fell over you, you froze - which made Baby frown. It was becoming painfully clear you weren’t ignoring him because of the jar - and that made him want to both shatter the jar in his hands and fall to his knees to rip his hair out, trying to understand what he did wrong when nothing he did had felt wrong to him. But instead, Baby slowly crouched down, head bowed, eyes staring at the lollipops in the jar. With a steady voice, he spoke. “Here,” he said simply, holding the jar out to your back. He didn’t know what expression you wore, but he knew you hadn’t moved. Still, he remained in place, having no other idea how to show that he meant no harm - that he was… “Mianhae…” he said, instead of just thinking it, his voice quiet. Baby started to grit his teeth, embarrassed at the slip, until he felt your fingers - warm and gentle - wrap around his where they held the jar. His head snapped up, eyes wide and doe-like, meeting your soft gaze - and in that moment, he straightened a little, like a sunflower stretching toward the sun’s first beam of light after a long, cold night. Baby was not possessive, materialistic, or territorial - or any other fancy term. But… He recognised attachment. The kind he felt towards the others, towards the sweets on sticks he enjoyed from the human world - even if they did taste awful - and most of all, towards you. So, when you suddenly withdrew from him, it felt like a piece of himself had gone with you. As you happily enjoyed one of his lollipops - after agreeing that you could take one only after asking - Baby rested his head on your shoulder like a pillow, while the others were in their rooms or out - alive, judging from the demonic waves subtly wafting in between the honmoon. Baby nuzzled deeper into your neck, feeling your soul’s steady thrum, and comfortably sank into the realisation that- You were now part of him, too.

[that-one-girl2020]

Role Reversal!

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Honestly? Might make this into another short series when I’m done with a few other things. I haven’t seen a role reversal fic yet but let me know if there is actually one out there! You don’t need to read the original series I based it on but I encourage you to do it because I think I did good on it!

Comment name ideas for the fire dog and three legged crow!

TW: Mentions of death, discrimination, toxic parental figures (not just Celine this time), insecurity, etc.

Word Count: 1,592

Master List

Now a Series!

• You and Rumi were born as twin sisters several centuries ago.

• You and Rumi were raised by your Aunt since both your parents were killed shortly after your birth. Your mother was a human and your father was a demon. You both were scorned by your village for being born as half demons, your Aunt being the worst offender.

• Rumi and you enjoyed singing and dancing together out under the moon, in a clearing that none of the village knew about.

• Rumi wanted to be rid of her patterns so she could sing before others without being treated as a monster, so she made a deal with Gwi Ma.

• Gwi Ma agreed and glamoured your sister’s demonic pattern for a time. Rumi happily left the village and you behind to follow her dream of singing and being a performer.

• You were heartbroken to be left behind in the village that hated you, your demon pattern creeping further and making you begin scratching at them anxiously

• Just wanting to be safe and loved, you wished for your patterns to disappear so you could find someone to love you. Gwi Ma answered.

• You left the village too, traveling in search of someone that would accept and love you.

• You ended up falling in love with a Hunter. A man with a golden voice.

~ His name was Haon (can mean ‘great and kind’) and he did love you. You wanted to tell him about your demon patterns, often scratching as if you could feel them crawling beneath your skin, beneath the glamour Gwi Ma had put on you. But he was a Hunter.

~ You didn’t tell him, you didn’t get the chance before your patterns began showing up again, spreading faster than they ever had before.

~ Haon’s fellow Hunters, even though you avoided them as best you could, found out about you and saw your patterns. They told Haon and the male Hunters went to kill you. The patterns completed and Gwi Ma summoned you to his realm before Haon could strike you down.

~ The last thing you remembered was Haon’s teary eyes as he raised his sword.

• Rumi and you reunited in the demon realm but your relationship was much more distant.

• Rumi acted as if she hadn’t left you behind for her own dreams and you remained in her vicinity because she was the only offer of comfort you had there.

• For centuries, you mourned Haon and the fact that no one would ever love you for you, never accept you.

• Mira grew up with two harsh parents who were disappointed in not having a son. So they prepared her to be married since she was young but she was too wild and rebelled.

~ Mira asked Gwi Ma to help her escape her parent’s expectations. He agreed. Her parents died not long after.

• Zoey was born to an interracial couple, which was not accepted at the time. Her parents couldn’t handle the contempt and separated but they fought over who would raise Zoey as a neurodivergent girl when the term hadn’t even been invented yet.

~ Feeling like too much and yet not enough at the same time, she accepted Gwi Ma’s help in finding a way to express herself by becoming a poet and lyricist. She chose neither of her parents and ran away.

• Modern times come around.

• The Saja Boys had trained and finally debuted several years ago, quickly growing in popularity until they topped the charts.

• They named themselves the Saja Boys due to both the lion motif, but also in irony. Saja also references the grim reapers of Korean folklore, thinking of it as them coming to reap the demons.

• Jinu came from a poor family in a small village, he ran away from his family when he was young to sing in the city streets, abandoning them.

~ Scouted by the Hunters, he claimed his family was dead.

~ When he was older, he started sending money back to his family anonymously once he debuted but it was too late as his mother died from overworking herself.

~ His weapon is a broadsword.

~ He has a cat that he named Derpy and a magpie named Sussie. He made a hat for Derpy once but Sussie stole it. Now his fans make hats for the two and give them to him.

~ He has a whole social media page dedicated to the two.

• Kwan, stage name Abby, was an underground dancer when he was young with a small group. he was attracted to the stage, but was sure his appearance wasn’t fit for being a performer. Then he was scouted by the Hunters.

~ His weapon is a battle axe.

• Chungae, stage name Romance, grew up with his relatives after his parents died. They didn’t care for Chungae much, focusing on their own children and their matchmaking business. Chungae felt invisible and used visual art to express himself, posting online and feeling better the more likes he got. He was scouted by the Hunters.

~ His weapons are a pair of fans.

• Hyeon, stage name Mystery, was often hounded for his pretty face, which made him dislike spending time with people. He turned to gaming and staying home but his parents got him various modeling gigs. He was scouted for his looks by the Hunters.

~ But he became skilled in music production and ended up covering most of his face with his bangs.

~ His weapon is a whip.

• Jum, stage name Baby, made his name, originally in underground rapping circles. Despite his soft, youthful features, Jum had a rich, deeper voice and a killer rap style which got him scouted by the Hunters.

~ He chose his stage name out of irony because he knew the industry would have a certain view of him as the maknae and with the soft features he has.

~ He’s bitter because he believes that no one will take his lyrics and overall self as a person seriously with his soft face.

~ His weapons are shurikens.

• Jinu is the main vocals, Kwan is the main dancer, Jum the rapper, Chungae the visualist (he deals with visuals and their wardrobe), and Hyeon is the main producer.

• One of their songs would probably be ‘Blood, Sweat, Tears’ by BTS.

• Rumi presents the idea of a demon girl group to steal the Saja Boys’ fans before they can seal the golden Honmoon.

~ She pretends she didn’t leave you behind because otherwise, the guilt and shame would consume her whole.

• In return for doing this for Gwi Ma, she requests that she be allowed to remain in the human realm, trying to escape her demon side.

• You haven’t sung in centuries and you feel bitter about using something you love to help Gwi Ma consume innocent souls.

• You have a fire dog (bulgae) that looks like a regular dog but with glowing amber eyes and will spew fire every now and then. You also have a three legged crow that can create complex illusions.

• You girls go with the name Huntr/x to return the irony that the boys created when they chose Saja as their name. The hunted will become the hunters and all that.

• Your debut song was probably ‘The Baddest’ by K/DA

• I headcanon that demon Huntr/x would basically be K/DA

• After the equivalent of the bathhouse battle, Gwi Ma sensed that the boys had strong shame and greed, just a little push away from falling into his grasp.

• You and the girls split the boys between you with Rumi getting Jinu, Mira getting Kwan and Chungae, Zoey getting Hyeon, and you getting Jum.

~ You kinda ended up taking on all of them because the girls were raging bisexuals for each other.

• You betray all the boys, unwillingly, using their weaknesses and fears.

~ Jinu abandoning his family.

~ Kwan’s insecurity over his rough appearance.

~ Chungae’s need for love and attention.

~ Hyeon’s fear that no one will see him beyond his outer beauty.

~ Jum’s belief that no one will ever take him seriously.

• The demon Huntr/x version of ‘Your Idol’ would definitely be ‘Villain’ by K/DA. It’s perfect.

• You and the girls perform in your demon forms.

~ Nine-tailed foxes, or Gumiho. Specifically the Korean version of nine-tailed foxes, I feel like it fits really well as all the girls, in some way, are trying to become more human or accepted among humans or, in your case, looking for love.

~ Quick Google it, I swear it’s perfect.

• The boys all come, whether they were mixed into the crowd or came from their brooding thought sessions, they all come.

• They sing their version of ‘What It Sounds Like,’ I’m not sure what it would be, maybe ‘Life Goes On’ by BTS or something…?

• The boys know that you don’t believe anyone could ever love you for you, could ever accept you.

• Even in your human form, you and Rumi still have your patterns, just hers are iridescent like the end of the movie and yours is a light purple, a side effect of being half-human, half-demon and then making a deal with Gwi Ma.

~ Along with the whispers in your heads, the patterns are a reminder of your shame and insecurities that you can’t escape from.

• They came to save you.

• You give them your soul to save Jinu and Jum when they were almost overwhelmed by Gwi Ma’s power while Kwan, Hyeon, and Chungae fought Rumi, Mira, and Zoey.

• Rumi, Mira, and Zoey, in their grief, are defeated by the boys but their souls are given to the boys as well.

Outtakes:

You: *Walking down the alley in slow motion, hearts glowing around you as you dramatically flip your hair*

The Saja Boys: *Having their Kdrama moment*

…

You: “How did you get to this point…?”

Jinu: *Looking around the room that had been converted into a closet for Sussie and Derpy’s hats* “… I honestly have no idea.”

…

You: “I am unlovable. No one will ever accept me for who I am.”

The Saja Boys: *Currently looking for Haon’s gravestone in the Hunters’ cemetery*

…

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