Mishiawoo

You wake up every morning feeling… better. But it doesn’t make sense. Because during the day, you feel sick. Nauseous. Lightheaded.

Your skin prickles like you’re wearing clothes that don’t belong to you. Sometimes you forget where you are mid-thought. Your body feels too heavy for this life.

But at night?

You sleep deeply. Without nightmares. Without fear.

It started the day you ran from them.

And you don’t understand it. You’ve done nothing different. No medicine works during the day. But when the sun sets… Your body calms. Your breathing evens out. You feel—safe.

You tell yourself it’s just exhaustion. You don’t know that each night, one of them watches over you.

Sometimes it’s Mystery, curled up outside your window, nose pressed to the glass like a loyal animal waiting to be let inside. He never scratches. Just listens for your breathing to steady—then smiles softly in the dark.

Sometimes it’s Romance, leaving rose petals beneath your balcony, humming one of the songs he swore he wrote just for you. The same one you’ve caught yourself humming without realizing.

Sometimes it’s Jinu—who, when your fever spikes, slips silently into your room just to stand near you until the bond calms. He never moves. Never speaks. Just watches you with reverence and restraint, fists clenched tight to keep himself from reaching for you.

And sometimes—only sometimes—it’s Baby. Not close. Just nearby. Leaning against the wall across the street. Eyes glowing faintly under his hood. Unmoving.

Watching.

They never touch you. Only witness. Only ache.

Your light. Their everything.

They hate to feel your suffering during the day—a consequence of the bond forming without proximity. But they hope that this pain you carry is what drives you toward them.

Because every night, you sleep because they’re there. And you don’t even know it.

You wake up on a Wednesday, feeling well rested—though you know that won’t last long. It never does. You sit on your counter, chewing breakfast slowly, staring off at nothing. Your eyes drift to the shelf.

Romance’s book.

It’s been sitting there for days. Untouched. Daring.

You don’t want to admit you’re curious. But your hand moves anyway. “How did he even know I wanted to read this?” You mutter around a mouthful of bread.

You waddle to the couch and crack it open. Your heart’s not ready, but you flip through the pages. And then—

You freeze.

A passage, underlined in neat black ink:

“Love that spans lifetimes is never gentle. It devours slowly.”

Your breath catches.

The creeping feeling in your chest tightens. Longing. Yearning. You don’t even know for what.

Nope.

You slam the book shut.

Not today.

You work overtime at the café the next few days, thinking you’ll outrun whatever this is. But the nights remain the same. Each one of them leaves something. A new sketchbook on your doorstep, the paper thick and expensive, with a note from Mystery:

“For when you draw us again.”

You haven’t seen him. But your heart races every time you hear footsteps outside. You swear you hear purring through the window once, but shake it off.

The day after, you come home late, too tired to even stand. You drop your bag. Your stomach growls. But your apartment smells like miso and spice. Your favorite ramen sits warm on the stove. No signs of forced entry. No windows broken. Your locks were fine. You tell yourself you must’ve made it before and forgot. You try not to look at the empty bowl already set out for you.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

Groceries show up on your doorstep. Snacks you forgot you liked. Drinks you told no one about. Sometimes a sticky note:

“Don’t skip meals, brat.” (You know it’s from Abby. You roll your eyes… and smile.)

They don’t push. But they never leave.

Letters. Tickets. Handwritten invitations. Concerts. Fanmeets. Award shows. You never go. But you read them all.

The private session ticket with your name in looping calligraphy stays on your desk. You’ve moved it twelve times. You’ve never thrown it away.

Then, on Friday of the next week, comes a final envelope.

No ticket.

No flower.

Just a single sheet of paper, torn at the edges. The ink slightly smudged like someone had been holding it for too long before sealing it. You unfold it slowly.

‘You don’t have to believe us.Just let us prove it.’—J

You sit back on your couch. Everything aches. You’re tired. Dizzy. Burning with fever in the afternoon, freezing by night. It’s getting harder to deny what’s happening. You keep telling yourself it’s a prank. A stunt. A delusion.

They’re famous. Rich. Beautiful. They have no reason to want you.

You met them once.

But the bond doesn’t care about logic. The bond wants what it wants. And as you stare at that letter in your trembling hands… You start to wonder if maybe—just maybe— you want them too.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

By Sunday, you’re fed up from feeling so sick and decide to go and buy new medicines. You’re pale. Shivering. Oblivious to the way demons on the street stop in their tracks when they see you.

One begins to follow you.

From the shadows, Rumi, Zoey, and Mira spot it.

“Target marked,” Zoey whispers.

“No incident,” Rumi replies. “Quiet takedown.”

They move in—silent, lethal. Weapons at the ready.

But then the demon sees your face.

It freezes.

Eyes wide. It backs away, trembling, then flees like it’s seen a god. You never notice. You’re inside buying Tylenol.

The girls stare after you.

“What the hell?” Rumi questions, watching as the other demons in the area back off and run somewhere else.

“That’s… not normal,” Mira mutters.

“Is it her?” Zoey questions, watching your sick form drop a vitamin jelly and curse pathetically. Pity erupts in her chest. “She seems pretty normal to me…”

“Something’s off.” Rumi states, analyzing you. You seemed like a very normal person. No markings whatsoever. Why did they flee? “Maybe we should look into it a bit more..?”

“We can run a background check.” Mira suggests. “Though it’ll just be for precaution. We shouldn’t- ZOEY?”

The rapper of the group was slowly walking towards you with the intent of engaging in conversation. 

The fluorescent lights above hum louder than usual.

Your head is pounding. Your limbs feel like lead. Every movement takes just a little more effort than it should.

You shuffle toward the over-the-counter shelf, fingers grazing through boxes of headache meds and nausea tablets. You’ve been here too many times this week.

“You okay? You look like the flu’s winning.”

The voice is light, teasing, warm.

You glance sideways and nearly drop your medicines again. Cool. Effortlessly pretty. The kind of girl who belongs on your feed—not in front of you, talking like you’re friends.

You know her face. You’ve seen her before. Not in person. But in clips. In edits. She’s Zoey—one of the girls from Huntrix.

“Sorry,” she says, flashing an easy grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You looked like I did last week when I thought I had the plague but it was just anxiety and kombucha withdrawals.”

You nod stiffly. Your throat is dry. “Yeah. I’ve just… been off…sorry, you’re Zoey, right? As in from Huntrix?”

She giggles nervously. “Yeah, I just need to grab a few things too.” She steps closer to the shelves. Casually, like she’s just browsing. “Cold stuff’s over there, but if it’s more like… migraines or vertigo? These work way faster.” She taps a pack of fast-acting tablets and hands them to you.

You take them without thinking, a little starstruck. “Thanks.”

She studies you—not overtly. But it’s there. Her eyes linger too long on your face. “No problem! I hope you feel better! Uh... I, sorry I didn’t get your name-”

“Y/N” you nodded with a nervous smile. 

“Great to meet you, Y/N! Maybe when you feel better we could hang out sometime. Get your instagram?”

You stammered, mouth gaping then closing. What was with all these pop stars approaching you as of late? “Uh, yeah, sure…” You said blinking. You were too sick for this. Why did you have to meet one of the most famous people in the country now when you looked this shitty? And she wanted your instagram? Is this real life?

You told her your instagram handle and she smiled. “Awesome! Well, I hope you feel better.” she started to walk away and you raised an eyebrow. “Uh… weren’t you supposed to get something?” 

Zoey turned red and laughed nervously. “Oh- right! Silly me. My memory is so bad. Thanks for reminding me!” 

You nodded, still a bit shocked at this whole encounter and went to pay for your medicine. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The next day, You see a clip on TikTok. It was the Saja Boys at a fanmeet. Laughing with the Huntrix girls, though the girls seemed less enthusiastic. You scroll through more of your feed and stop when you see an image.

It was Jinu and Rumi playing footsies.

You feel a pang in your heart and scroll on.

Zoey playfully hitting Mystery and his little pout after that.

Romance and Abby fanart with Mira.

"Miromabby is real!"

"Zoestery supremacy."

"Rujinu playing footsies? They’re the cutest!"

Your stomach drops.

You turn your phone off. Then on. Then off again.

“They’re not mine,” you whisper to convince yourself. “They were never mine.” You feel yourself getting weaker. A sinking feeling in your gut. It’s unexplainable. You were the one avoiding all of the boys and their madness. Why would something like this upset you? You were the one rejecting their invites.

And then something just breaks.

The next weekend, your coworkers drag you out. They mean well. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and so when one of the girls invited you to come out with them after work on a Saturday, you accept. 

They take you to a club. Loud music. Glittering lights. Free drinks. You tell yourself you deserve it.

But deep down, you feel wrong. Like you’re doing something unforgivable.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys are in their studio, practicing choreo for an upcoming show when Mystery jolts upright mid-step. His head whips toward the door. His pupils dilate. And then—

He growls. Low. Deep. Animal.

They freeze.

Romance is the first to stop moving, lips parting as he slowly lowers his mic. Abby drops into a ready stance like he’s about to charge into something. “What? What is it? What is she feeling now?”

He’s been on edge for days. Every time Mystery whimpers about your nausea or fever, he paces like a caged beast. Every time your scent spikes with sadness, he throws something across the room. It’s taken both Jinu and Baby to restrain him—twice this week alone. Once when Mystery said you slipped in the shower. Another when your heart rate flatlined in fear while walking home alone. He hasn’t stopped shaking since.

“Tell me,” Abby grits. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mystery’s hands twitch. “She’s not alone.”

Romance is already unlocking his phone, screen flipping up to your page—he checks it a hundred times a day. Sometimes a thousand. He breathes in sharply.

“She posted. Or—no, someone tagged her.”

A nightclub. Low lighting. Your smile—nervous. Shy. And then—other men.

Hands brushing your waist. A stranger whispering in your ear. Your head tilting back in a laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

The phone screen burns in Romance’s hand. His smirk dies. “Is that her?” he asks. But he already knows the answer.

Abby doesn’t bother replying. He rips the phone from Romance’s grip and snarls, muscles tensing beneath his shirt as he glares at the video. “Who the fuck are those guys?” he growls, loud enough to shake the chandelier above. “Why is he touching her? Why is she letting—”

A teacup shatters.

Baby hadn’t moved. But his hand had clenched just enough to crush the porcelain in his grip. He stands at the edge of the room, statue-still. His pupils blown wide, pitch black. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. His breathing is slow—too slow—as he watches the clip loop.

He’s memorizing the men’s faces. So he knows who to kill first.

Mystery lets out a sound—not human. It rips from his throat like a guttural whine and a growl, high-pitched and wet. His claws are out, twitching. 

“She’s letting strangers touch her,” Baby says softly. But it’s not soft. It’s dangerous.

Romance’s voice is velvet-wrapped venom. He’s smiling again, but the smile is hollow—like a cracked mask. “She’s trying to forget us,” he murmurs. “Trying to pretend she doesn’t belong to us.” His voice dips. “It won’t work.”

There’s a snap. A shift. Something ancient uncoils in the room. The temperature drops. Power hums in the air like static before a storm.

And then—they move. No plan. No hesitation. No words. Just instinct. Baby’s already calling Jinu. The leader’s in a meeting—still gathering intelligence on Rumi, on the Hunters, on the fragile balance between war and reunion.

The phone rings once. “Yes?” Jinu’s voice is curt, sharp with authority.

“She’s at the club,” Baby says calmly.

Jinu doesn’t respond at first. There’s the sound of footsteps. A tiger’s whine. Then Baby adds, like a bullet to the heart:

“Men are touching her.”

The phone crackles. Not with sound, but with energy. Dark, feral, electric. Baby can feel the shift through the line. Something old stirs. Something broken. Then—

Jinu’s voice returns. But it’s not Jinu.

It’s the voice of the thing that crawled to Gwi Ma 400 years ago, begging to bring you back. It’s older. Colder. Hungrier.

“Where is she?”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're tipsy. Laughing. Warm. The club pulses like a heartbeat beneath your skin—bass thudding through your ribs, lights smearing color over your vision. You haven’t felt this loose in ages. Not since university. Not since before the dreams started. Before the headaches. Before the boys.

Your coworkers sway around you, drunk and shouting. One of them pours you another shot. You take it. You let it burn. It’s easier to blame the sick feeling in your chest on the alcohol now. Easier than admitting that you’ve been haunted.

You don’t notice the guy your friends brought getting too close. Not at first. He presses against your back under the excuse of helping you keep balance. His hand slides to your waist. You laugh it off. You don’t want to make a scene.

Another drink. Another dizzy smile. Another moment where you forget who you are. “Come on,” he says, too close to your ear. “Let me walk you home.”

You nod. You shouldn’t have.

He throws his jacket over your shoulders like it’s a favor. Wraps an arm around you. Guides you through the club’s glowing mouth into the alley beside it.

The world tilts sideways. Your pulse buzzes against your skull. And then—you round the corner.

And they're there.

Five shadows cut from the dark like carved obsidian. They don’t speak. They don’t have to. Your breath hitches in your throat. The bond snaps into place like a noose and for the first time all night—you can breathe. The ache behind your eyes disappears. Your limbs go steady. Your nausea evaporates. And even in your drunken haze, you know it’s because of them.

The boys who haunt your dreams. The demons who ruin your peace. The monsters who feel like home.

Abby moves first. He doesn’t speak to you. His full, furious attention is on the man still touching you. “Touch her again,” Abby growls, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll shatter every bone in your body.”

Romance steps into view, golden eyes gleaming like firelight. He tsks, slow and mocking. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs, eyes trailing down your body like he’s savoring the view of you in your dress. “Out here, letting strangers paw at what isn’t theirs.”

His gaze lingers on your thighs. The hem of your dress. Your dazed expression. You see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “She forgot us,” he says with a small, cruel smile. “So she let herself be touched.”

Romance leans in with a sickly sweet smile aimed at the guy by your side. “She’s not yours to protect,” he whispers. “So if you would so kindly… fuck off.”

The guy squares his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think—” His voice dies the moment his eyes land on the figure behind them all.

Baby.

Still. Silent. Watching. His pupils are blown wide, pitch black. Shadows crawl up his arms like smoke.

The guy’s bravado crumples. “Hey, hey—I didn’t know she was spoken for…” He stumbles back. Your balance wavers. 

Mystery darts forward, catching you in his arms like you were made to fit there. He buries his nose in your neck with a shaky inhale. Like it's the only thing in the entire world that could calm him down. You don’t push him away.

“Y/N? You know these guys?” your friend calls weakly.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. Your voice is slurred, but you don’t miss how Romance is staring—burning holes through your clothes. Your spine prickles. He rakes his eyes over you slowly, like memorizing every inch. You remember the way he said you belonged to him. And for a second, you want to.

Abby moves closer again, jaw tense. His eyes flick from your dazed expression to the guy who dared to touch you earlier. He sees red.

“Take care of him,” Baby says, the words barely audible—but they’re a death sentence. Abby cracks his knuckles.

“With pleasure.”

“Don’t look, baby,” Mystery whispers into your ear. You shiver. His voice is soft, but it carries heat. Danger. Something low coils in your stomach, and lower still. His hands tighten around your waist and you melt. You don’t even notice the scream behind you.

“You came,” you slur, eyes glossy. “I… feel better now…”

“Is that so, princess?” Romance frowns, stepping closer. He tilts your chin with two fingers. The bond flares. A moan slips from his throat before he can stop it. His eyes fall lower—to the swell of your chest in that too-short dress.

“Did you wear this for them?” He asks through gritted teeth. “For all those men to see you like this?”

His jaw tenses. His hands twitch. Mystery’s fingers dig into your hips and you gasp. It’s too much. You whimper. And it breaks something in all of them.

Romance yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, turning away with a curse. Marks rise on his skin, glowing faintly. You don’t even notice.

But then—

Jinu steps from the shadows. His gaze is ice. Piercing. Regal. He spares no glance for the man Abby dragged away. Only you.

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly.

You flinch.

“You’re reckless.”

Tears prick at your eyes. You know you shouldn’t have gone out. You know you shouldn’t feel better just because they’re here. But you do. Jinu’s hand reaches for your jaw, and you go still. The moment his fingers graze your skin, the bond explodes between you. You can’t breathe.

He leans down until your noses almost touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So reckless. So breakable.”

Jinu trails his nose on the side of your neck causing a shiver to erupt down your spine.

“If you’d stopped pretending this wasn’t real, you’d be spread across my lap, begging us to forgive you.”

You suck in a breath. Every nerve in your body screams. You squeeze your thighs together. This is wrong. This is insane. You should be running.

But you’re not.

You’re melting.

He lets go. You nearly fall forward—but he catches you. Of course he does.

They don’t ask.

They don’t wait.

They take you home.

Theirs.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

From the rooftop nearby, Mira watches the scene unfold.

The way the boys surround you.

The way you lean into them like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.

And then—

They vanish in smoke. With you.

She presses a finger to her earpiece. “She’s not normal,” she whispers. “And she’s gone with them.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sheets are silk under your touch. A splitting headache forms and you groan, last night’s party flooding back like a cruel wave. You decide you’re never drinking again.

Your eyes open—and your stomach twists. The ceiling isn’t yours. You bolt upright, heart pounding. And they’re there.

All five of them. Beautiful. Dangerous. Familiar in a way that makes your soul ache. They’re watching you. Some with concern. Some with reverence. Some like they want to devour you.

“Where am I?” you breathe. Your voice shakes. “Why am I here?”

You look around wildly, mind racing. You remember the latter events of the night. Romance’s gaze. Mystery’s breath on your ear. Abby’s voice like thunder. Baby’s black eyes. Jinu’s warning...

“You took me,” you gasp. “You took me.”

Abby steps forward first—hands raised like you’re a spooked animal. “You were in danger.”

“I was out with my friends,” you argue.

Mystery whispers from where he kneels near the door. “You’re always in danger when you’re not with us.” His voice is soft, but it cuts like glass.

Romance kneels beside the bed next. Too graceful. Too close. “Let us explain.”

You scramble back, trembling. “No. No more dreams. No more tricks.” Your hands press to your temples. “I’m not yours.”

You say it like you need to believe it. Like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

Baby finally speaks from the shadows. “Then why do you feel safer here than you’ve felt in your entire life?”

His voice is emotionless. Clinical. But something about it makes your skin erupt in chills. You freeze. Because he’s right. And that terrifies you.

Abby sits at the edge of the bed, watching you like a kicked dog. “You must be tired. How about a bath first, hmm?” His voice is too gentle for someone so strong.

You flinch. He notices.  And it kills him.

“I should go home—”

“Please, stay,” Mystery pleads. His voice is almost a whimper. You look at him and feel your heartbeat falter. Then Jinu approaches. Deliberate. Measured. The pull in your chest pulses harder.

“We would never hurt you,” he says, voice steady. “Please allow us to explain.”

You glance around. Five sets of eyes. Each one begging for the same thing. Not obedience. Not fear. A chance.

You sigh. “Fine. But I need a bath first.”

They release a breath like they’d been underwater for hours. Romance smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

So there you were, sitting on the edge of a couch that costs more than your rent. Hair damp and in clothes way too big for you. Based on the scent, you hate how you could tell they were Jinu’s. Unbeknown to you, the guys had drawn sticks to decide who’s clothes you would wear after your shower. 

Velvet cushions. Mahogany floors. Tall windows draped in gauzy silk that sways with no wind. You don’t know where you are.

But it smells like them. Like rain on stone, smoke, citrus, old paper, and heat.

You’re in their apartment.

And they’re all still here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like wolves circling their starved mate—but trying to look civilized about it.

Abby comes up from behind you, handing you a glass of water and two painkillers. “For your pretty little head. It must be pounding right now” 

You noticed his extra caution and nervousness and it broke your heart a little bit even if it shouldn’t. You take the medicine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, princess.” 

The room is bathed in silence after you take your medicine. Five pairs of eyes staring at you with longing and another emotion you were too afraid to acknowledge. Fondness? 

Love?

You shake your head at the thought. 

All of them couldn’t believe you were here. In their clothes sitting on their couch in their apartment. It was almost too good to be true. They had to be careful. They couldn’t afford to have you run like last time. 

Because they knew they wouldn’t just let you go now. Now that you’re here in their clutches. They’d make you stay.

Romance is the first to speak. “You’ve been dreaming of us.”

It isn’t a guess.

You swallow. Hard. “How do you know that?”

Mystery, curled up on a cushion across from you, answers in a low murmur. “Because we feel it when you do.”

You flinch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jinu steps forward slowly, crouching down like he’s afraid you’ll bolt. “The bond is active again.”

You cock your head to the side like a puppy. It was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. 

Baby’s fists tighten, resisting the urge to pounce on you.

Jinu speaks. “Your soul remembers. But your mind doesn’t. That’s why you feel sick during the day. Why you sleep like you’ve finally come home.”

He doesn’t touch you—but he gestures to the sketchbook on their coffee table. “You’ve been drawing us, haven’t you?”

You glance down. The sketchbook you didn’t bring with you. The one Mystery must have brought you. The pages are full of lines you don’t remember making. Faces. Threads. A burning palace. A blood moon. And five boys who all look like them.

“These don’t mean anything,” you say quietly. But your voice shakes.

Abby leans against the far wall, arms crossed. “You feel cold during the day. Like you’re not in your own skin.”

You nod slowly. “And you’ve been dizzy. Unsteady. Like something inside you is pulling.”

More nods. “That’s the bond, too.”

Romance sits down across from you, not too close. For once, he looks serious. “You don’t have to believe everything right now. But you feel it. Don’t you?”

“The thread. Between us.”

You try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

You stand up abruptly, putting the coffee table between you and all of them. They all flinch like they’re ready to catch you if you run. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m having dreams that don’t feel like mine. I’m drawing with a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Baby’s voice cuts in—calm and sharp. “You’re not losing your mind.”

“You’re remembering what was taken from you.”

You turn to Jinu, eyes wet with frustration. “Then explain it. Really explain it. No more riddles.”

Jinu takes a breath like it hurts to speak the words. The others go quiet. You feel the room shift—heavier. Like the bond itself is listening.

“You died.”

His voice is low. Steady. But grief hums under every syllable. “Four hundred years ago. You died. And it was my fault.”

He doesn’t blink. “I sold my soul to Gwi Ma for fame. I thought I wanted luxury, adoration—immortality. I got it. But then I met you.”

“You were just a girl. Bright. Human. Good. You saw me for what I was—a demon. And you stayed anyway.”

Your eyebrows raised at the mention of demon, but listened on, letting him finish.

“But I was selfish. And you paid the price. When you died, I begged Gwi Ma- the demon king to bring you back. He said no.”

His fists clench on his knees. And you began to think maybe he was crazy. A demon king? Really?

“So I made a deal. If I could bind other demons to your soul—build a tether strong enough to pull you back across lifetimes—he’d let you be reborn.”

He looks at you now. Really looks.

“And I did. I found them. Each one of us—Abby, Romance, Mystery, Baby—we lived lives tied to you. Not all at once. Not always together.”

“In every lifetime, you met one of us. You fell in love. You died. Again and again.”

Your breath catches in your throat and fear grips you. I died? Multiple times? Are they crazy? Every rational thought within you told you to reject this explanation. This Fairytale and yet…

When you looked into each of their eyes they were sincere. Jinu’s eyes holding so much truth so much anguish. Either they were psychos who believed their lies or…

It was all the truth. And that terrified you.

“You’ve lived dozens of lives, and in every one, your soul was trying to return to the pact.”

“Now… we’re all here. Together. Finally.”

“And your soul remembers.”

You sit frozen. The blood drains from your face. Your voice comes out broken: “So… I’m not me.”

Jinu’s expression shatters. He moves toward you slowly—like you’ll flee again. “You are you. You’re this lifetime’s version of her. But you’re more than this moment. You’re all the love, all the pain, all the choices you made to find your way back to us.”

Questions began swimming in your mind. Demons? They were demons? There was a Demon king, this Gwi Ma… it was all so crazy. Too crazy. Maybe too crazy to be a lie… How else would you explain this tether to them, this bond. How you’ve been feeling. The dreams, the sketches, the visions. It lines up with this story. 

Mystery whispers from the corner, cutting through your thoughts. “We missed you every time.”

There was a pain in his gaze, and you looked around to see that same pain reflected in everyone’s eyes. 

You needed more details. More explanations. Them not being human made sense, that was clear to you. But everything else, just seemed so bizarre to be true. Demons were real? You had been reincarnated? And they had loved you throughout those lifetimes? Their souls were tied to yours? 

Well, that last bit had you believing, because at least that last bit you actually felt.

It was all too crazy and you sighed, rubbing your temples. You didn’t want to believe them but somehow you just did. Like it all made sense. And deep down you knew it was the truth. 

You let the silence stretch. Something hot stings behind your eyes. “So what now?... You expect me to just—fall in love with you all?”

Baby answers this time. Voice low. Final. “No.”

“We expect you to remember that you already did.”

Your head is pounding. Not in a normal way. It feels like something is unraveling behind your eyes—memories that don’t belong to you pressing against the inside of your skull like water through cracked glass.

You close your eyes. The room spins. You hear a voice. Soft. Familiar.

“Don’t push her,” Jinu murmurs to the others. “She’s at the edge.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You want to argue. Scream. Say it’s all ridiculous. Say you don’t believe in past lives or demons or fate.

But your heart won’t let you. And neither will the thread quietly tugging behind your ribs. You don’t realize you’ve sunk back onto the couch until Mystery is gently placing a pillow behind your head, his touch featherlight. He doesn’t speak. Just hums something low and wordless as your eyes flutter shut.

Your head still hurts, but less. The weight of everything presses down—and still, for the first time in days, you don’t feel alone.

Romance crouches nearby, hands on his knees, watching you through his lashes. “We’re not asking you to love us today.”

“We’re asking for a chance.”

Abby, his arms crossed, finally uncrosses them. “A chance to take care of you. Like we were supposed to.”

You open your eyes. The ceiling above you glows faintly with soft reflected light. There’s no sound but their breathing. And your own heartbeat.

“Just… a chance?” you whisper.

Jinu kneels beside the couch again. “That’s all.”

“And if I don’t remember?”

He smiles—small. Sad.

“Then we’ll give you a thousand new reasons to love us again.”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no.

You close your eyes.

And this time, when the bond pulses gently at the base of your spine like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you…

You let it.

TO BE CONTINUED ───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's note: Wahhh I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! Things are picking up now and the ball is rolling. I sprinkled in a little bit of naughtiness there just to hint on eventual spice down the line... eventually, when it feels right! But let me know if you guys liked this one, reblog, comment, and like if you wish too! <3 Love y'allWilla x.

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

🏷️: @ameliaxantanova @nodoubtily @maimaimaki3 @exrevoll @hearts4h00n @ladysplained @fxreverzora @kyaahkiian @r1aaz @piixelplush @zealoustrophyeon @ni-kichromeheartzz @hannahmontanas-stuff @dontrushmekatie1009

Stoner!jongho who always coughs in your face, simply because he knows it irritates you.

Stoner!jongho who purposely likes to make you mad for his own enjoyment. Just to kiss you when you get too upset.

Stoner!jongho who refers to you as ‘my blowing smoke buddy’ when he knows it’s always more than just friends between you.

Stoner!jongho who offers you his hoodie whenever you get cold from being outside.

Stoner!jongho who likes when you sit next on his lap, he likes the smell of his cologne mixed with weed on you.

Stoner!jongho who lets his hands wander underneath his hoodie you’re wearing, using the excuse of ‘my hands are cold.’ When in reality, he just wanted to hold your tits.

— “Why are you out here?” “Smoking.” “You’re blowing smoke without me, oh no!”

Stoner!jongho who leaves the letter ‘J’ in hickeys on your neck so everyone can know you’re his without a specific statement.

Stoner!jongho who grabs your hips to push you down against him as he grinds up against you. Moaning into your ear from the friction.

Stoner!jongho who slips his hand into your panties to rub your clit, smirking up at you when he hears your breath hitch.

Stoner!jongho who groans when you pull away from him, just to kneel in between his feet. His hands automatically going to his belt to unfasten it.

Stoner!jongho who grips your hair tightly whenever you deepthroat his cock, moving his hips along with your pace.

Stoner!jongho who holds your head to himself, whining ‘Sorry’ over and over as he cums down your throat without a single warning.

🖤 JINU – The Leader. The First. The Curse You Chose.

“She said my name like it tasted wrong on her tongue. But one day, she’ll moan it like a prayer.”

He’s the one who holds the leash on everyone else’s insanity—but barely.

Jinu is calm. Controlled. Refined. Until he’s not.

He craves reverence. He wants to be chosen by you, even if he has to manipulate fate to make it happen. He’s your shadow in every life. Your ruin in silk and soft words.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He doesn’t need to.

“I don’t need to take her. She’ll give herself to me. She always does.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

❤️ ABBY – The Protector. The Fire. The First to Bleed for You.

“I don’t care if she loves me. I just want her safe. And I’ll break every bone in this city if someone makes her cry again.”

Abby is loud. Brash. Playful on the surface.

But underneath the teasing is volcanic violence barely suppressed by loyalty. He notices everything—every flinch, every unspoken hurt.

He doesn't know how to be gentle with the world.

Only with you.

“Let the others beg for her. I’ll show her. I’ll be the one she runs to when she’s scared.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

💋 ROMANCE – The Liar. The Lover. The Puppetmaster of Her Heart.

“If she won’t choose me willingly… then I’ll become the only choice she has.”

Romance is silk sheets and shattered mirrors. He weaves his love like a trap—one you're not supposed to see until you’re wrapped in it.

He’s the one who makes you smile through tears. The one who makes you think he’s the victim.

He’ll build you a fantasy, then chain you to it.

“She thinks she’s free. That’s what makes this fun.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

🐾 MYSTERY – The Echo. The Creature. Her Devoted Shadow.

“She looked sad again today. So I smiled until she stopped.”

Mystery doesn’t understand the world without you in it.

He doesn’t need you to remember. He just wants you near.

Touch-starved and terrifying, he mirrors your feelings like instinct. He’ll growl at your sadness, purr at your joy. He’ll follow you until you call his name again.

“I don’t want her to be afraid of me. But if fear keeps her close… I’ll take it.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

🕷️ BABY – The Quiet Obsession. The Sadist. The End of the World.

“She doesn't need to love me. She just needs to stop looking at anyone else.”

Baby doesn’t speak much.

He doesn’t have to.

Everything he does is for you, and only you. The rest of the world is white noise. People? Disposable. Obstacles? Erased.

He would burn down centuries of work to keep you looking at him.

He smiles softly while thinking of tearing everything else apart.

“They can touch her first. That just means I get to touch her last.”

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's Note: I'm so excited to continue this series! I feel like having a glimpse of the boys' individual drive and character may help when reading the rest of the fic. (Also of course, to help make the fannies flutterrrr ✨✨) Also, I tried tagging some people but tumblr wouldn't let me? Not sure why. :(

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

You were just about to roll out of the bed and turn on the lights, but stopped when you heard the sound of your doorknob click. It pushed open slowly, and light flooded into the dark bedroom. “Don’t stop now.” Your whole body tensed. Jinu stood in the doorway, Abby, Mystery, Baby, and Romance by his side. Grinning as they eyed your exposed body. “Weren’t you just about to cum?” He questioned. Abby laughed, responding for you as if he already knew the answer; “You kidding? She can’t cum without us, why do you think she quit?” Romance shook his head, clicking his tongue as he made a ‘tsk’ sound with his mouth. “And here I was, thinking that she loved us enough to just ask. Are we really that bad to you, love?” Baby raised his eyebrows, leaning against Jinu to get a better look at you.

Sat up on the bed, you were in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties—the smell of your arousal potent in the air. “I bet she couldn’t because she missed us too much.” Mystery only watched you through the bangs of his hair. His gaze hidden, yet intense. So strong it made you pull your knees together, closing your legs tightly as you looked away from them in shame. “Aww, don’t be ashamed baby.” Jinu said in a tone a bit too taunting for your liking. “We’re here now, so you don’t have to suffer alone, right guys?” They all nodded in agreement, flooding into the room and surrounding the bed. “We’ll make sure you get that sweet, sweet release you just couldn’t get without us.”

Jinu is the first to touch you. The bed dips underneath his weight, he straddles you, closing the space between the two of you until theres nothing left. That’s when his warm, soft lips touch yours. He kisses you with caution at first, just letting you get a small taste. It’s almost teasing, the way his lips move against yours, the slight flick of his tongue against yours before he pulls away. Leaving you breathless and dying for more. Luckily, theres plenty to go around. Jinu guides you to sit on his lap near the edge of the bed. That way you’re easily accessible to the four other men.

While Abby and Romance take their spots beside you, Mystery and Baby eye each other the last spot—between your legs. Ultimately, they both end up sat in front of your knees, waiting for your legs to spread. “Look at our pretty girl.” Romance muttered in your ear, “So fucking horny, you just couldn’t wait, could you?” Abby taunted. “Of course she could, she’s just too needy to wait.” Jinu hooked his hands underneath your thighs, and pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss against the back of your neck. “God, she smells so fucking good…” Mystery kissed your inner thigh, while Baby kissed the other. Hot and wet kisses pressed against almost every inch of your legs, while Romance cupped your face and turned your head toward him—stealing your lips before Abby could. Leaving him to hungrily kiss and lick at your neck.

Your body was on fire. Tingles spreading all over your skin, fire blooming and burning. The overwhelming difference and intensity—touching yourself, watching porn. Neither of those things could compare. “Isn’t this better? Doesn’t it feel good to get what you really want? What you deserve?” Jinu’s voice made your head spin. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, or the feeling of Baby and Mystery kissing your inner thighs and calf’s so passionately. Or maybe it was the feeling of Abby sucking the nape of your neck, his sharp teeth grazing the skin. Whatever the case, it felt like you were going to melt, like you’d slip away. Without thinking, you attempted to steady yourself by reaching down and pulling Mystery’s hair, and then wrapping your arm around Romance to do the same to his. “You’re getting overwhelmed already?” Romance muttered against your lips, “Don’t worry…we’ll give you all the love you need.”

Your shirt was the first thing to go. While Abby Kissed you, Romance latched his lips around one of your nipples, while Jinu rolled the other between the pads of his fingers. Your back arched, every moan that escaped your lips, Abby swallowed up gladly. The small, muffled noises you made, spurred the five men on further. And the next—and last thing, to come off, were your panties. Baby slowly slid the wet cloth down your legs, and pressed them against his nose as he inhaled your scent deeply. “Fuck, smells so damn good…” Your body shuddered, the cool air against your slick skin, even that felt good. Everything they did, every breath against your skin, after stroke from their hands—the sound of their voices, swimming in your head. It all felt like Heaven.

Jinu paced around the booth, making noises that would seem absurd to others but to singers, you would know he was trying every technique under the sun to calm and loosen his vocal chords. He had been given the chance to show off his vocal range in a more ballad type comeback and of course, his voice has decided to go through what he liked to call a second puberty. He was already super stressed as it is for this comeback since it was the first time releasing a real album and you know, not being controlled by a firey demon of hell so… And of course now his voice had chosen to crack, it felt like the world was out to get him.

“Come on, Jinu. Let’s try another take.” Your voice rang through the speaker from the other room that connects to the booth. He sighed, finding a slight comfort in your voice, knowing it was just you watching him fail every time. Ever since Bobby suggest the Saja boys get hired under the same company as huntrix, he was nervous to meet all the staff. but you as a producer had felt like a little piece of heaven, you had helped so much, even going out of your way to stay late with him to practise his parts in the songs. “You ready?”

He put his headphones back on before standing in front of the microphone, “Ready.” He gives a thumbs up to the one-sided glass. You pressed play on the back track, watching Jinu count the beat until he was supposed to sing but when he started he immediately sang the wrong note, cracking the pitch with a ‘fuck’ following afterwards. He threw his headphones in a rage his yellow eyes flaring up ad patterns creeping in the process, making you jump for the speaker;

“Hey, come here now.” You said sternly, watching Jinu run his fingers through his messy hair. He swung the door wide open before entering the producing room where you were sitting on the swivel chair with crossed arms. Your eyebrow was raised while you clicked your tongue, “You didn’t need to throw the headset, you know.”

Jinu slumped onto the couch, falling into it as if he was hoping it would swallow him whole. “I know…” He mumbled. This caused you to shake your head, turning your back to him to look at the computer, choosing to give him a cool down before either of you progressed. He watched your movements closely, feeling the annoyance drip from you. You hated when he got angry, even more so when he threw things. Although he doesn't mean it, he knew that it still bothered you. "I'm sorry…"

“I know…” You mimicked his words prior, sighing as you continued to adjust some of the ranges on your screen. “I understand... I get it.” Another thing he loved about you. You never stayed mad at him when he fucks up. Even when he accident revealed his demon half to you, you didn’t judge. You simply let him explain. Being a caring and kind-hearted person, you always put the happiness an understanding of others before your own.

As you shifted in your seat, he watched as you placed your hand on your neck, lightly rubbing it. You were tired but you would never admit it. You were craving to be in your nice warm bed, cuddled up next to your lover while fast asleep. He felt bad he couldn’t give that to you. but as his eyes wandered lower to stare at your skirt-covered legs, he noticed the way you held your thighs tightly together in concentration. Fuck, what he would give to have them over his shoulders right now, he always felt his calmest when between your gorgeous legs. That’s when an idea popped into his head, “Hey…Why don’t we both take a break.”

“You wanted to do this note before tomorrow. Taking a break would mean you lose time for that, Jinu.” You swiveled your chair to face him but instead of seeing a defeated sad man, you were met with pure desire matching lust-filled eyes. You gulped, tightening your thighs and straightening your back, “Why are you staring like that?”

“Oh, I think you know why.” He grinned, making you look everywhere around the room but at him, with blush painting your neck and ears.

“Jinu! We are in our workplace. This is inappropriate.” You gasped, turning back to the desk, attempting to shake the shiver that was running down your spine to your core. But Jinu just chuckled at how easily flustered he can get you. He stood up, walking over before placing a hand on your shoulder;

“Just one taste. Loosen up my mouth and all.” His deep whisper against your ear caused your eyes to flutter closed. You bit your lip as your body reacted before your brain, pushing off the desk slightly so Jinu could take a seat in front of you. “Such a good girl.” He gave your cheek a kiss before grabbing a pillow from the couch, taking a seat under the desk on his knee right in front of you.

“If we get caught, You’ll never hear the end of it.” You grumbled, lifting your flowy skirt up, gifting Jinu a view of your damp panties, the pink frilly fabric already sticking to your cunt deliciously. Jinu has admitted it a thousand times and he’ll keep screaming it from the rooftops if he had to. But he loved to eat you. It was one of his favourite things to do. There was something about making you feel good just by his tongue and fingers. The way you clenched around him while he lapped up your mouth-watering juices. He would much rather get you off multiple times before he would even grant himself one orgasm. You never came first in life so he made sure you would come first over and over with him if it was the last thing he did. You deserve it after all.

“Fuck look at you, baby. All wet already.” He put his nose against your soaked panties, taking in a deep inhale, groaning at your scent invading his senses. His fingers hooked around the band, pulling the fabric to the side so he could get a look at your cunt dripping with slick. Taking a quick glance at the door and then to your pleading eyes, he wasted no time in latching his mouth to your little bundle of nerves sending a shock of electricity to crackle up your spine. Your hands flew to his soft locks, tugging on them harshly, earning yourself a hiss from him

“Fuck, Jinnuu…” You hiccuped, bucking your hips against his tongue as he licked several long stripes along your folds before going back to suck on your clit. His fingers made quick work, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your soaked panties, to sink two digits into your quivering hole. Your head dipped back against the head of the chair, hanging slightly as you threw your left thigh over the armrest. This gave Jinu more access to add another finger inside you while pulling back to admire your pussy clenching around them.

“You taste so amazing, Sunshine. My favourite fucking meal.” He growled, spitting on your clit, watching his saliva leak down to your hole before he pulled his fingers out just enough to fuck the saliva into you.

“Jinu…I’m gonna argh…” Your eyes watered as you lost yourself in the pleasure while Jinu leaned down, spreading his own legs so he could get the perfect angle to fuck his tongue into you. He groaned when he felt your walls tighten around his wet muscle, eating all the slick that dripped out of your cunt.

“Come..” A slurped followed by a humm, “Come on me…” His nose rubbed against your clit as his fingers sped up, “please, I need it.”

You obeyed your lover's whimpering commands, coming undone on his tongue and long digits. Using your free hand, you covered your own mouth to silence your screams as your hips stuttered and your body convulsed from the aftershock of your climax. You felt like you were floating among the clouds, hazily looking down to see Jinu drinking every drop of your puffy pussy gifted him.”You…a menace.” You panted, raking your hand through your sweaty hair.

“I’m aware.” He sat up with a cheeky grin, your cum dripping off his chin and down his neck.

—

You work long shifts at a cramped little gallery café in Hongdae. Your boss forgets to pay you on time. Rent’s due. Your roommate’s a ghost (figuratively). Your family doesn’t call.

It’s not tragic. Just quietly heavy. Most days are filled with the same mundane routine. The stress of adulting weighs in on you most nights making you feel more fatigued than you should.

Your art is the only thing that feels like yours—until it doesn’t. Lately, even your sketches look like someone else’s memories. The past few weeks of downtime have been spent sketching images you vaguely recognize from dreams you forgot you even had. 

You walk through life like it’s background noise.

Then, one afternoon, on the way to grab milk and instant ramen…you hear music on the street.

Lugging your grocery trolley (because god knows you don’t have the strength to carry a week’s worth of grocery bags on your arms), you spot that a crowd has gathered in the plaza. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement. People are pushing each other to get a view of whatever it was that was making the crowd go nuts.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and next thing you know you’re walking towards the center of the square. Grocery trolley rolling behind you. Someone steps on it, warranting a quick “Sorry” and they scurry to the front. You turn your head forward to see whatever it was they desperately wanted to see.

You stop.

Up on a raised platform, five boys move like a single body—synchronized, supernatural, magnetic. Their colorful outfits shimmer under the lights, a kaleidoscope of sugar-rush perfection. The crowd is screaming, but all you hear is the song—“Soda Pop”—sickeningly sweet and pulsing like thunder in your chest.

You don’t recognize them.

Were they new? A secret debut? A niche group you missed? 

And then you see them.

The Saja Boys. Five gorgeous faces, carved out of dreams and danger, singing like they already know you.

Your heart stutters.

Front and center is the one with the jet-black hair and fire behind his smile. His eyes sweep the crowd like he owns it—until they lock on you. And then it’s like the world tips sideways.

You can’t breathe.

Something ancient uncoils in your ribcage—a thread pulling taut, like it’s found its anchor.

The stage beneath them morphs—no, rises—into a giant soda can, and the absurdity nearly makes you laugh, but the pressure in your chest is louder.

The song ends. The crowd erupts. They strike their final poses like gods frozen mid-conquest. And still—he’s looking at you. Right at you.

He lifts a hand, brushes off his shoulder like he’s dusting you into place. “That’s it for now,” he says to the crowd.

His speaking voice slides down your spine like silk dipped in fire. Familiar. Impossible.

“See you tonight on everyone’s favorite variety show…” His gaze doesn’t waver.  “Saja Boys love you!”

You don’t know how you’re still standing. The other members turn too—one by one, their expressions shifting. Eyes no longer playful. They’re looking at you like they remember something you haven’t yet.

And then—pink smoke.

They vanish.

You’re left in a sea of people, lungs hollow, skin prickling like it’s just been marked.

You don’t know who they are. You don’t know what just happened. But your hands are shaking on the trolley handle. And you’re sprinting home like something inside you just woke up and started screaming.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

They apparated back into the apartment in a burst of cold smoke.

Jinu collapsed first.

Not into a chair. Not onto the couch. He sank straight to the floor.

Hands tangled in his hair, breath shallow. Like the air couldn’t reach deep enough. Like he’d been holding it for centuries. His voice cracked like something ancient being unearthed.

“It’s her.”

Romance was already pacing the length of the living room, long strides restless, fingers tugging at his shirt collar like it was choking him. “I—I thought I was hallucinating,” he muttered. “Some kind of cruel glamour. A mirage. But the bond—” His voice shook. “The bond snapped tight.”

Abby dropped into the couch, the cushions barely softening the weight of his frame. His knuckles were white, gripping his thighs. “I felt her heartbeat.” He looked up, dazed. Wild. “During the bridge—our hearts matched. I know it was her.”

Mystery hadn’t moved. He stood near the window, face shadowed, fists clenched so tight his nails carved into skin. His lips were moving in a near-silent whisper—over and over like a broken prayer.

“She’s scared… she doesn’t remember… but she felt it. She felt it.”

Baby sat furthest from them all, on the floor beside the armchair.  Blood dripped from his palm—he didn’t seem to notice. Eyes wide. Hollow. Haunted.

Like seeing you broke the silence inside him. Like he’d finally found the ghost that’d been crawling under his skin for lifetimes.

No one breathed. The room felt cracked. Like a single touch would shatter it.

Abby ran a hand down his face. “What do we do?” He was still staring at his hands. Still disbelieving. “Is this a trick? Is Gwi Ma playing with us again? Using her face to haunt us?”

Jinu looked up slowly, lashes damp, lips pale. He bit the nail of his thumb, the taste of anxiety sharp on his tongue.

“We wait,” he said softly. “We plan.”

Romance scoffed, but there was no humor in it. He was trembling as he smiled.

“We charm.”

Mystery let out a low snarl. “We go to her. She’s alone. She’s hurting. I can feel her.”

And then—finally—Baby spoke. Just one line.

Quiet. Final. Unshakable.

“We take her back.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You curl up on your couch with a microwaved dinner, phone propped up on a cushion. You don’t normally watch idol shows. But…

You press play.

They’re charming. Playful. Competitive. Too beautiful. Too perfect. You watch them struggle with the hot sauce challenge, lips curling upwards at some of the boys’ faces. 

Your chest aches.

You don’t know them. But you can’t look away.

When they joke, you laugh. When they flirt with the camera, your stomach flips. When Baby stares dead into the lens, you freeze. 

You watch as Baby wins the spicy challenge, somehow a part of you knew he would. You couldn’t explain why. You watch as Huntrix makes a surprise appearance. You weren’t a crazed fanatic or anything, but you did enjoy their music. When they bowed at each other, a part of your chest ached. You don’t know why, but something didn’t sit well with you seeing the boys interact with the girl group. Why? You had no claim over them. You felt like you were going crazy.

You don’t sleep that night.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Later that night, after filming wraps…

The Saja Boys find themselves ambushed by Huntrix—Rumi, Zoey, and Mira—demon-hunting girls who are too fast, too smart, and too close to the truth.

The boys run, Jinu being caught into a fight with Rumi which leads to him finding out her secret. A Hunter who’s part demon. He gives it some thought as he walks out of the bath house. Then, his thoughts shift to you.

Did you watch the show tonight? What were you doing right now? Did you remember him at all?

Then suddenly he’s pulled into Gwi Ma’s chamber.

Smoke. Fire. Screams locked in stone. The demons are cheering for the boys, now in their demon forms. Gwi Ma sings the chorus of Soda Pop. 

“It’s catchy” 

He brings up Rumi- the hunter who bears his mark. He tells Jinu he has no control over her. Jinu remains curious, telling him that he can find out her shame and use it against her to bring the Hunters down. 

Then, Gwi Ma’s flames rise. The tension in the air thickens as the four other boys on the ground below are brought to stand next to Jinu before the Demon King.

“However, I sense that you’ve lost your focus,” the Demon king hisses. His flames grow —and conjures a mirage image of you, asleep in bed, cheek pressed to your pillow. The boys tense at the sight of you. 

Their anger rises. They don’t like that you’re being presented to them like this- in front of all demons to see. Of course- everyone else in the Demon realm had an inkling- an idea of what you were to the five. It was unspoken, a rumor that spread throughout the years - that they had tied their ancient souls to a human hundreds of years ago. But no details of that pact had been known. And now, the boys were livid as every demon knew your face.

Abby grit his teeth, immediately standing and stepping forward. He didn’t want any other demons seeing you, gazing at what was his. “Don’t-!”

Jinu grabbed his shoulder back, willing his friend to calm down, even though he was struggling to contain his own anger. 

“That girl... is she going to be a problem? A… distraction?” His voice was teasing. A sickeningly playful tone meant to mock them.

The boys bristle, their jaws clenched as they see the demon king’s image of you. You- who was so precious to them. Jinu steps forward, eyes hard. “She is ours. You made it so. The pact cannot be undone.”

Gwi Ma’s image of you faded and the boys all visibly relaxed, though still tense.

Gwi Ma spoke once again, voice teasing. “You remember, don’t you, Jinu? How you came crawling to me, weeping like a child the moment she died in your arms.”

Jinu’s eyes widened, haunted at the memory.

Gwi Ma continued. “You begged me to bring her back. But I gave you something better.

A deal.

Bind four others to her soul. Trap their power. Anchor her across lifetimes—and I’d let her return.

And you did it.

You found them. Broken little things. Monsters like you. You forced the bond. You made her the center of your madness.

You cursed her to be wanted. Needed. Torn apart by obsession.

All for what?

To share her?

To watch her slip through your fingers again and again?”

The boys visibly grew more tense with every word he uttered. Romance grit his teeth, and Baby’s nails dug so deep into his palms they began to bleed again. They were monsters who desperately clung to the only light they had. Demons who tainted the purest thing they had ever laid eyes on. The guilt. The shame. All weigh heavy on their hearts, but not as heavy as their deep desire for you. 

Gwi Ma continued. “No matter how close she gets… she’ll never truly be yours.

But if you succeed—if you finish what I told you to—maybe I’ll give her to you.

All of you.

For good.”

Their heads snapped up at that. Disbelief and false hope gleaming in their yellow demon eyes. 

Gwi Ma’s flames shift to a smile as he saw their non-subtle desperation. “Then here’s my offer.”

“Succeed. Harvest the souls before the Honmoon seals, bring down the hunters. Do your job. And I’ll let her live.”

“Fail… and I rip her from the cycle. She’ll never be reborn again.”

The boys snap their heads up. Shock, desperation, and fury ablaze on their faces. He wouldn’t dare. The boys don’t speak. But silent thoughts race through their heads. They wouldn’t have to wait centuries for you? All the endless years of loneliness and suffering… if they succeeded, they’d be gone. And you would be theirs. Fully. No more dying, no more waiting. Theirs, for all eternity. 

The offer was weighing heavy in their minds. But it wasn’t even a question. How far would they go to have you? The answer was that there were no limits. No lines they wouldn’t cross. No world they wouldn’t burn to keep you.

They just kneel, a silent agreement. 

They’ve waited centuries. They can wait a little longer.

But this time, they won’t just protect you.

They’ll possess you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys apparated back to their apartment in silence.

No music. No lights. Just the faint, cold glow of Seoul’s skyline spilling through the penthouse glass like a wound that never closed.

They didn’t speak. They couldn’t. The memory of Gwi Ma’s offer still echoed like ash in their throats. The price was steep, yes—but the reward?

You. Untouched by his claws. Unwatched. Unmanipulated. Free.

If they could ensure your soul was yours—and theirs—forever… they would pay that price a thousand times over. So they agreed. Without hesitation. Without question. Now they sat in the dark, five demons and the shape of a girl in their hearts.

It was Abby who cracked first. “She looked cold,” he muttered.

His elbows rested on his knees, large hands clenched together so tightly the skin over his knuckles had gone pale. He wasn’t looking at the others. Just the floor. Somewhere past it. Somewhere where you had been.

“She looked cold in that vision. Like she hadn’t been held in years.” He swallowed thickly. “I’d keep her warm. She’d never feel cold again. Not even for a second.” His voice broke near the end.

“She should’ve been with us.” Romance was standing by the tall windows, framed in moonlight, arms crossed tight like he was holding his chest together. “She doesn’t even remember us,” he said softly. “We’re strangers again.”

He tried to sound nonchalant—but his voice cracked on ‘again’.

Baby didn’t move from the couch. His legs were crossed, jaw tight, nails digging crescent moons into his thigh. “Then we make her remember.” He looked up. Eyes black.

“Tie her down if we have to.”

No one told him to take it back. Because all of them had thought it.

From the corner, curled on a throw blanket like a resting animal, Mystery breathed out a long, aching sigh. He was clutching something close to his chest. Your scarf. One from a lifetime ago. The threadbare edges frayed, carrying a scent only he still recognized. He’d stolen it then, kept it hidden through each century. He never let it burn.

“She cried last night,” he whispered. The room went still. “I felt it.”

They turned.

“She misses us,” he said. His voice was too soft for the size of his pain. “Even if she doesn’t know why. Even if her brain doesn’t remember—her soul does. She sees us in dreams. She reaches out.”

No one doubted him. Mystery had always been the tether. The first to feel you across lives. The first to know. He curled tighter around the scarf like it could bring you back. “She reaches,” he whispered. “But we’re not there.”

Silence again.

Then Jinu stood. The weight of four centuries in every breath he took. He moved like a monarch of grief—shoulders squared, spine straight, eyes dark and steady.

“We need a plan,” he said. The words dropped like stone. “No chaos. No claiming. Not yet.” His gaze passed over each of them, firm.

“We woo her. Win her. Make her feel safe.”

Abby let out a bitter snarl. “I don’t want to pretend. I want to take her.”

Jinu’s jaw tensed.

“So do I,” he said. “But not if it means she runs. Not if she thinks we’re monsters.”

“Are we not?” Baby asked coldly. But it wasn’t really a challenge. It was despair.

“We’re hers,” Jinu replied. “That’s all that matters.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick with agreement. Each boy looked down. And one by one, they nodded. For now, they’d wait. But not forever.

You would remember.

You would come back.

And when you did— You’d never be allowed to leave again.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You didn’t know why you were out this late.

You told yourself it was for a snack. The cold night air. The glow of convenience store signs. But the truth was burrowed beneath your ribs—tight, restless, and waiting. Something inside you itched, tugged. Like an invisible string pulling you down familiar streets.

You turned the corner and froze.

“Y/N?”

A voice. Soft, velvety, soaked in a sadness you didn’t understand. You looked up.

Jinu.

Standing beneath a flickering streetlight like a secret carved out of the night. Hoodie loose over his frame. Hair tousled, moonlight catching in the strands. His eyes locked with yours. 

Your breath caught.

He took a step forward, hands raised slightly—like approaching a wounded animal. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently. “I just… recognized you.”

Recognized? Your heart began to pound. Hard. “How do you know my name?” you asked.

Jinu smiled. But it wasn’t cocky or flirty. It was aching. “Because it’s the only name that ever mattered to me.”

And that’s when it happened. A flicker behind your eyes. No—it wasn’t a flicker.

It was a memory. A feeling. A lifetime cracking through your skull like thunder.

You saw him.

Not here. Not in this hoodie, not on this street. But in crimson silk beneath a palace moon. A hanbok embroidered in gold, eyes lined with kohl. He reached for you across a garden of foxglove. Your name spilled from his lips like scripture.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Another voice. Close. Too close. Romance stepped beside you, holding a book. One from your wishlist. The exact one you’d looked at two days ago online and never bought.

You took it in trembling hands. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Because I’ve been whispering it for hundreds of years.”

The world spun.

Another vision. His fingers on yours. A past version of you, crying. Him kissing your knuckles in the candlelight.

“Because I’ve never stopped saying it,” Abby said now, appearing at your side, holding— Your scarf. The one that went missing days ago. “Even when you weren’t alive to hear it.”

FLASH. There was blood on his hands. A blade meant for you. Abby standing between it and your body, screaming your name.

Your knees went weak. You staggered. The breath in your lungs turned jagged. 

A gentle touch. Behind you.

Mystery. Quiet. Wide-eyed. Fingertips brushing the sleeve of your coat like he was afraid you’d dissolve.

“I’ve known your name longer than you have,” he whispered.

You blinked—

And you were in the mountains. Your hands small. Younger. A fox curled against your legs. You were humming. He was warm. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Across the street— Baby. Still. Watching. Eyes black as obsidian. And then—

The fire.

A palace burning. Bodies. You, screaming. Baby dragging corpses away with one hand while shielding you with the other.

You gasped. Your vision blurred. Your hands shook. You didn’t know if you were crying. But you felt like you were breaking.

Romance reached out, arm around your shoulders, steadying your frame.

“She’s remembering,” Mystery said, voice trembling. “She’s starting to remember.”

You didn’t hear them clearly. Your ears rang. Your body pulsed like a struck bell. Romance’s forehead pressed to yours, voice like velvet and ashes. “We missed you,” he breathed. “So much it drove us mad.”

Abby was pacing now, unable to stay still. His eyes burned. “You smell like home,” he choked. “I forgot what that felt like.”

Baby hadn’t moved, but he looked like he might lunge. His fists were clenched. His shoulders tight. His jaw locked.

His eyes were nothing but shadow.

He wanted you.

Jinu stepped forward, palm raised like a commandment. “Stop,” he said. Sharp. Firm. “She’s scared.”

He was right. You were. Tears blurred your eyes. The world spun again. “Who… who are you?” you asked, barely a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

Abby took one step. “We’re yours,” he said, voice low.

Jinu caught his arm. “Abby—”

“You were ours,” Romance added, lips brushing your temple. “You will be again.”

“No—no, this isn’t real—this can’t be—” You backed up. “You’re crazy.”

You looked into their eyes for the first time. And your blood ran cold. 

Not human.

They were glowing. Amber. Topaz. Garnet. Glasses of gold and rage and want. 

You didn’t think—you ran. Your footsteps slammed into the alleyway pavement. Breath heaving. Vision swimming. You ran like your soul was on fire.

And behind you— They didn’t follow.

They stood, the five of them, like statues in mourning. Longing. Rage. Grief. Hunger.

Mystery whimpered once.

Baby’s fists dripped blood from his own grip.

“We scared her,” Jinu muttered, teeth grit. Shame painting his face. “We were supposed to make her feel safe.” His voice was raw.

“She looked at us like we were monsters.” Abby slammed a fist into the wall. “She didn’t even recognize me.” 

Romance still watched the alley’s end where your shadow had vanished. His lips curled into something bittersweet. “Not yet,” he said. “But she will.”

The other boys turned. He smiled wider. Devastating. Determined. “Now?”

His voice dropped.

“We seduce her.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You don’t remember getting home. One moment you were running. The next, your apartment door slammed shut behind you. You locked it. Bolted it. Double-checked it.

Then you fell.

Not gracefully—like a collapse, like a marionette whose strings had been severed. You’re curled on the floor now, your fingers tangled in the hem of your clothes, your back pressed to the side of the bed. Shaking. Silent. Your chest is heaving, but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You’re not crying because you’re sad.

You’re crying because you’re losing your mind. Every time you close your eyes… they’re there.

Jinu in royal silk, kneeling in the blood-soaked courtyard of a Joseon palace—his eyes hollow, your lifeless hand in his lap.

Romance cradling your head by a lake turned black from poison—screaming into your mouth like he could breathe life back into you.

Abby roaring over a field of corpses—his armor cracked, clutching you as smoke swallowed the sky.

Mystery baring his fangs at priests dragging you away—his form shifting between beast and boy, voice howling your name like a prayer.

And Baby—oh god.

Baby in a burning chamber, crawling toward your corpse through ash. His smile was carved wrong, twitching, shattered—his arms cradling your body like a doll as fire devoured the world around him.

You cover your ears. You curl tighter. Your bones ache. “These aren’t mine,” you whisper. “They aren’t mine—”

But they feel like they are.

The grief. The rage. The longing. The love. Too much love. It presses against your ribs like a dam waiting to crack. And deep—deep—within your chest… something stirs. Something ancient. Something hungry.

You drag yourself under the blankets. Trembling. Numb. You don’t sleep. Sleep claims you.

And you never hear the figures outside your window. Five of them. Silent on the balcony.

Jinu’s hand is on the glass, forehead pressed lightly to the cold. His eyes are shut, breath fogging the surface. He had to see you. Just once more. Even if it killed him.

Romance stands beside him, one hand in his coat pocket, the other pressed to his lips like he might say something—but doesn’t. He just watches. Unblinking.

Abby paces behind them, boots scuffing against concrete. Every noise inside your room makes his head whip toward the door. He wants to kick it down. Drag you into his arms. Keep you warm. Keep you close.

Mystery is curled beside the potted plants. His ears twitch. His claws dig into the concrete. He hears your breathing. He knows when your sleep shifts. He knows you’re dreaming.

And Baby— Baby stands furthest from the glass. He doesn't move.Just stares at your sleeping form through the sheer curtain. His eyes are too wide. His hands are in his pockets, but the blood dripping from them gives him away. He clenches his jaw. He had wanted to go after you. To hold you. To punish anyone who scared you. But Jinu made them promise.

No chaos. Not yet. They all told themselves they were here to make sure you got home safe. But deep down, none of them believed that. They were here because they needed to see you one last time. Because you were in their veins now.

Because the bond was waking.

And soon—you’d be theirs again.

Emperor Jay was not married, but he had certainly taken concubines, three to be exact. Women from noble families who had pleased him at the time but whom he had grown tired of over time.

That is why, when he stopped in a village on his way back from battle, he completely fell under the spell of the village chief's daughter, who was welcoming them. Her beauty was enchanting, and the sweet smile she gave to everyone she crossed paths with made him want to preserve her forever.

Y/N was her name. A name that followed Jay throughout his stay until his departure, when he asked the chief to take her with him. Her father was reluctant, but Y/N pressed a hand on his arm with a smile, assuring him that everything would be fine for her and that she was going with the emperor willingly.

After saying goodbye to her family, Y/N approached the emperor's ebony horse, thanking the soldier who helped her mount behind him. It was considered improper for women to ride the same way as men, but Jay didn't care, placing his hand over hers as her arms encircled his torso.

They returned to the palace in the capital, and Y/N could only speak to the emperor as servants led her to her new quarters, in the same wing of the palace as Jay and not in the concubines' wing. At his request.

The servants prepared her like a gift. Bathed in a hot bath with rose petals, they dressed her in a long purple hanbok, the color of the royal family, and styled her hair in an elegant bun that enhanced her face. Her lips were painted a soft red, her eyes illuminated with a touch of powder, and jewels adorned her neck and wrists.

Y/N could hardly recognize herself like this, but she didn't complain. Never before had she been able to wear such beautiful fabric or such beautiful jewelry. She would enjoy it until Emperor Jay also grew tired of her.

The new concubine was led to the reception hall, where Jay was already seated at the long rectangular table, reading a final report on their last battle. His concubines waited in silence for him to give them permission to sit with him, whispering about which of them would have the chance to share the emperor's bed upon his return from battle.

The doors opened on Y/N as she entered the hall, all eyes turning toward her. She walked with a light, determined step toward Jay, who handed the report to a soldier to give her his full attention. He rose from his seat, rounding the table to come to her.

"You're beautiful." Y/N made a small curtsy, letting Jay take her hand to place a kiss on it. The concubines eyed her with disdain, wondering who this stranger was who was taking all the emperor's attention. "Let's eat."

The women approached the table to take their places according to their rank, but Jay grabbed the first concubine's wrist. "You're in Y/N's seat."

Red with shame, she turned away to sit in the fourth available seat. Jay pulled out the chair so Y/N could sit down, thanking him with a smile. She delicately spread her napkin over her knees, the emperor watching her, his eyes tracing her body covered in purple silk.

"I present to you Y/N," Jay announced. "She will be my new concubine from today onward. Treat her well." The women nodded with fake smiles, watching jealously as the emperor served Y/N's plate himself, telling her to eat her fill.

Jay's favoritism was immediate and unconcealed. Settled into his wing upon her arrival, a room spacious enough to be the size of her entire house in her village, a bed large enough to drown in silk, and privileges that would make any woman jealous.

The other concubines watched, Y/N could feel their hatred from miles away but ignored them as if they didn't exist. For ignorance was her best weapon. Jay visited her in her apartments almost every night. Each night beginning with slow caresses and ending with disheveled sheets, sweaty bodies, and passion still dancing in the air.

The emperor knew her body by heart. Every reaction, every spot that would give her pleasure. His mouth on her throat, his hands on her hips, his teeth on her skin. Each night made him a little more alive, a little stronger.

One evening, tangled in the sheets, Y/N rested on Jay's bare chest, her body still trembling with pleasure. The emperor's hand traced circles along her spine, his nose buried in her hair. "Say my name."

Everyone knew him as Emperor Jay, but he had never allowed anyone to call him by his real name. It was a privilege he reserved only for the woman he had chosen. "Come on, say it."

"Jongseong..." she murmured in a breath. Jay closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Again, baby."

"Seong-ie?" The emperor growled and rolled to press her beneath him, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

"You're going to be the death of me..." She chuckled, sliding her fingers through his dark locks.

"You're dramatic."

"Only with you, baby." Y/N smiled, placing a kiss on the top of his head, which made him let out a sigh of contentment.

Time passed, and jealousy only grew, hatred intensifying. The concubines no longer hid their anger, bumping into Y/N when they crossed her in the corridors, always staying together like a pack of hyenas lying in wait to attack her because they were too weak to do it alone.

Y/N was at the stables, standing before Jay's horse's stall, who was nibbling oats from her palm. No one dared approach the emperor's horse except his grooms, but the young woman had tamed this fiery animal with a little oats and scratches. Unbelievable.

The concubines took advantage of her being alone to approach her and, according to them, make her pay for her presence. "Don't start getting too comfortable at the palace, you'll soon be back in your filthy village!"

"You're just a phase, a toy for Jay. Once he's used you as he wants, he'll throw you away like the rat you are!"

"We've been his concubines for years, it's us he'll always choose!"

Y/N sighed, barely glancing at them, and stroked the stallion's forehead. "Do you hear that, Spartan? How can so much hatred come from such stupid people? That's what happens when girls don't receive an education and rely on daddy's money. So disappointed."

"You dirty rat! We'll teach you to insult the royal concubines!" The first concubine grabbed her arm with one hand, raising the other to strike her, but a strong grip wrapped around her arm.

Jay pushed the women away from Y/N, stepping before her to protect her. They immediately dropped their vicious airs and put on their victim masks. "Jay! She started it!"

"She insulted us!"

"Don't try to invent lies. I was in Spartan's stall from the beginning, but since you thought Y/N was alone, you attacked her. Again."

"I told you they always stay together, they've never had the nerve to attack me alone," Y/N said, coming to link her arm with his.

"You knew he was there!"

"Of course, I'm always with him when he tends to Spartan. But you were too busy pouring out your hatred to notice."

"I think it's time for all three of you to return to your families," Jay declared. "The capital's air has gone to your heads."

They begged him, falling to their knees for him to keep them by his side, but the emperor just called his soldiers to escort them away. Jay turned to Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist to press his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry you had to endure that, baby. It will never happen again."

"It's not your fault, Seong-ie. They'll be better off away from us."

"Exactly, and no one will be able to come between us."

Y/N nodded with a smile, and he took her face between his hands to place a kiss on her lips. Spartan stirred in his stall behind them, neighing and pawing the ground. Jay sighed as his fiancée pulled away laughing, returning to the stallion to stroke him and give him affection.

Masterlist

for some reason, before meeting cortis, you imagined the members would be reserved and overly polished the way idols usually seemed in interviews. you were very wrong.

the second you walked onto set, martin nearly knocked over a lamp trying to bow to you too fast.

keonho immediately started apologizing for him while laughing.

“this is so embarrassing,” somebody muttered.

“you’re literally making it worse,” martin shot back.

you liked them almost instantly. the entire group was very polite and kind, but one member caught your eye. james.

he stood slightly behind the others at first, hoodie sleeves pushed over his hands while everyone else talked over each other.

he smiled when you introduced yourself. “nice to finally meet you,” he said casually, like you were just another person walking onto set instead of someone whose face had been on billboards for the last year.

that was the first thing you noticed about him. he didn’t act impressed. throughout the first day of filming, you mostly stayed around the whole group.

between takes everybody crowded around the monitors together arguing over scenes and making fun of each other’s expressions on camera.

you learned quickly that the five of them never shut up.

at one point seonghyeon and keonho started debating whether one of them looked taller in a specific shot. they kept dragging you into the argument like it was life or death.

“be honest,” keonho said dramatically, pointing at the screen. “does he look taller than me there?”

“absolutely not,” you answered immediately.

the room exploded.

“thank you!”

“she’s lying.”

“you’re insecure.”

“move.”

in the middle of all the yelling, you looked over and caught james laughing quietly to himself near the back of the room.

when he noticed you looking, he grinned slightly.

that was the second thing you noticed about him.

he paid attention to everything.

after that, little things started standing out.

like how he naturally moved aside so staff could get through crowded spaces first, how he always noticed when you looked cold between takes and silently handed you hand warmers without making a thing out of it, or how he looked directly at whoever was talking even in chaotic conversations, like he actually cared about listening.

the mv itself only made things worse. the concept was supposed to be dark and cinematic, which meant your scenes with james ended up being the most tension heavy.

the first time the director asked james to pull you closer during a scene, he did it easily and naturally, with one hand settling lightly against your waist that you could tell was a little shaky.

“perfect,” the director called out immediately. “that’s exactly what i wanted.” the members behind the monitors started yelling instantly.

“holy shit!”

you laughed, stepping away once the cameras cut, but when you glanced over at james he was already rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile. after that, everyone started noticing. especially the members.

noticing how you somehow always ended up beside james during breaks even when the whole group was around. how james started looking at you first whenever something funny happened on set. how you asked him questions more than the others without realizing it.

one night during filming, the five of them and you were crowded around a tiny table eating takeout while staff reset equipment.

you sat down beside whoever had left an empty chair open.

james.

martin immediately smiled and put down his fork.

“crazy coincidence.”

james threw a balled-up napkin at him instantly.

“shut up.”

by this point, the entire group was amused.

“i didn’t even say anything.”

“you were about to.”

“because you’re acting weird.”

“i am not.”

you looked down at your food to hide your smile while the group started losing their minds around him.

james just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while everyone laughed at him. that was probably the moment you realized the attention between you wasn’t one-sided.

then came the hotel.

filming wrapped late and everybody was exhausted. managers wanted everyone leaving separately because the teaser photos had already started going viral online.

you were halfway through the lobby with the group when security suddenly sped up. camera flashes exploded through the glass doors outside.

“seriously?” keonho groaned.

everything became loud fast. security talking over each other., staff rushing people toward exits, cameras already pointed directly at the doors. you hated paparazzi, you always had.

james cursed quietly under his breath while martin tried joking to lighten the mood, but the second the doors opened the yelling started instantly.

without really thinking, you moved closer toward whoever was nearest to you, which of course, was james, who glanced over immediately.

“y/n, you okay?” he asked.

you nodded and looked down, pulling your sunglasses down over your eyes as you walked out of the hotel. his expression shifted slightly, his hand pressed lightly against your back while guiding you through the crowd toward the suv waiting outside.

the cameras went insane. your hand gripping james’ sleeve for balance while security rushed everyone forward.

“oh my god,” martin muttered under his breath behind you.

“not now,” james shot back instantly.

the second you all got into the car, martin shot his eyes toward james. “they’re gonna think you guys are dating.”

“oh lord.” you covered your face with both of your hands, slumping forward and sighing.

“we didn’t even do anything,” james shot back.

“you two were literally glued together.”

by morning, the whole universe would think you’re dating james.