idk if it was by anon or not, but in one of my old blogs I sent you a request for grunge Dabi with a horror lover reader and then my account got banned for no reason (fuck you tumblr). And so now I made it a tradition to visit that page just to stare at the never made one-shot, like I’m visiting someone’s grave😂
★ FAVOURITE SCARY MOVIE ( GRUNGE¡DABI )
it's a tradition in his room filled with old posters, dust-collected musical instruments, and his collection of monster energy cans, to watch a scary movie once a week or once every two weeks.
well. not his tradition, but one you simply planted in the comfort of his cool room. oddly enough, you'd only ever want to watch horror movies at his house.
it's as if you want the evil of the fictional media to be instill under his bed instead of your own, even if you're the one who's always excited with every jumpscare or stabbing or the peeling of skin.
what a fun image to think about.
besides you being a complete psycho and fanatic of gruesome films, dabi never really understood the hype or your love for them. every time you put on a new movie, it gets weirder than the last.
scream series was fine. that wasn't that bad at all, until it kept going to ring then terrifier then plenty more. you know... the classic stuff.
after every movie, does it come with your own additional ideas to add into the movie. your own little review. except more screwed up than the original movie plot. and in dabi's mind, maybe you're just secretly a criminal, one playing the role of an endearing nerdy partner so in love with the concepts of horror movies.
he's strangely not afraid, however. dabi thinks of it as something he can ponder about and actually live with it—a serial killer or his cute lover. whatever works. as long as he gets to play a part in your life doing something.
but you're not a horror movie criminal. you're just an obsessed fan who happens to have the intentions of dressing your boyfriend up in ghost face or jason or michael myers costumes.
"they're hot," you insisted. "i'm hotter," dabi retorts back and obediently follows and dresses up whenever you want him to. but only if you'd let him scare you a little bit. just a bit. and satisfaction will fill his soul at the effort he gives you with your favourite horror characters.
one night however, after the usual horror movie date night with dabi, you looked at him with eyebrows furrowed. curiosity dripped from the tip of your tongue as you inquired him.
"so, what's your favourite scary movie?"
"when you ovulate over count orlok."
note. i actually lost the req out of nowhere and didn't want to write without it 😭 im so glad you found me back so i can finally write it! this is too simply sosoosos sorry ily
content. chapter six includes derpy tiger, teensy bit of angst, little bit of romance, minor mentions of blood. a single korean profanity. 1600+ words.
sunday, which you claimed for it to be a family day of the week. except… there isn’t really anyone to really spend the day with except for ghost husband jinu. if anything, he is the only one available for you to spend it with. and this marks the second week in which you’ll be spending your second sunday with him.
wow. you’re keeping tabs on your weekends spent with a soul which no one else other than you could see. but that’s fine. it’s okay. it’s starting to feel okay.
your eyes swept a glance over at jinu, who’s squatted and running his fingers through a strange blue fluffy cat (or tiger) with yellow eyes’ furs. you didn’t know what to think of. never in a million years would you ever imagined that a boy, hell, even a man, would look so adorable petting a cat.
jinu looked like he’s living through the motions of blissfulness as if he’s enjoying a sweet vacation on the beaches of hawaii. such an unseen tranquility was painted across his expression as the blue creature snuggled up onto his legs.
a smile surfaced across your cheeks just as the man from the food stall handed you your order—wang mandoo, oversized korean steamed buns, or dumplings, which were round, plump, and satisfyingly heavy in the palm. it is also soft to the touch with a smooth, pale exterior that glistens slightly from steam that could warm the cold touch of jinu.
after paying the kind older man, you headed in the direction of jinu and held out one bun for him. that seemed to break jinu out of his cat-petting session. a smile the ghost of your husband shot you as he stood up after giving the strange feline a last pet.
“for me?” he asked, you nodded. “you can’t eat, but wives buy their husbands food as well. it’s common courtesy anyways.”
“thank you, sweet wife,” jinu took the dumpling, feeling the warmth of the soft dish. the scent wafted through his nose, comforting in a way that he hasn’t felt in so long.
all those centuries which he was wandering through the grounds of the afterlife had grown into his very own soul that he even forgot what the warmth of a wang mandoo felt like. this felt like a breath of fresh air for him.
bidding his farewell to the blue cat with a grin of the cheshire cat, the both of you pulled away from the scene and made your way down the peaceful walkway.
it’s a sunday—family day, in your knowledge and understanding. so shall it be, since the entire plaza of this public space is filled with families spending their time together. mother’s carrying their dear sweet children, father’s pointing to restaurants and deciding where to eat, grandparents resting on benches and pets strolling around.
such a beautiful day to spend it outside. it was no different with jinu as well. today, it was a day for a date with your phantom husband.
only thing is, you’re the only soul who could see him. exclusivity. yes. the perfect element in a relationship.
“the cat looked like a tiger,” you said and watched the people go on about there lives on an average sunday morning.
“i named it derpy tiger,” jinu replied, earning a raised eyebrow from you. “can’t you give it a better name?”
“popo.”
“what.”
“popo.”
“derpy tiger was better.”
jinu shrugged and brought up the plastic bag which kept the wang mandoo to his nose, then sniffed it. it was like he was obsessed with the dumpling, strangely comforted by the warmth that slowly seeped into his skin like a drug consumed and blossoming in one’s internal organs and brains and whatever the hell needed to make a drug function.
“smells so good.”
“yeah. does it exist back then?”
“yes, it does. it is one of the foods my mother cooked for me when i was younger. a small child. my sister and i loved her steamed buns.”
you could see the ghost of a smile which surfaced up his cheeks, casting a longing look on his handsome features and if you didn’t have a teeny bit of sympathy towards him, you’d be lying, downright lying through your tongue and teeth.
he lowered the wang mandoo down and inhaled a breath of fresh air before exhaling. “this brings back memories,” jinu turned to you, “thank you for the buns, really. i appreciate it.”
and another charmingly sweet smile the man shot you, making your heart gnaw at the cracks and openings of your rib so they could crawl out and collide hearts with jinu’s.
“whatever,” you quickly murmured and sped up in your walk, causing him to let out a soft chuckle before he followed after you. the man reached out to curl his fingers around yours before they laced to hold your hand properly.
but your first instinct was to pull away.
crap.
the look on jinu’s face was enough to shatter your entire heart. and the world around you stopped. a gray-scale of veil covered the earth, painting the colourful families, birds, trees, and animals a dull colour unworthy of being painted in different hues again.
“jinu—”
“it’s okay. that’s okay.”
“no it’s not,” you said sternly and intertwined your fingers again. “i’m sorry.”
instincts, instincts.
to feel something so unnatural and cold touch your hand was to instill temporary fear in your skin. curse you for thinking this way. now your poor phantom of a husband is heartbroken. and you feel like shit.
“i really didn’t mean to, jinu,” you reassured him with a squeeze of your hand, warming his hands more than the steamed buns will ever warm his. there was simply something natural in your touch that made him warm up all over.
“it’s okay,” he repeated with a smile he only ever gives you, and returned the squeeze in your hands. your hands felt nice. it was warm and comforting and absolutely touching to the soul. if anything, your warmth touched his soul, providing him with the affection he has been seeking for over four centuries.
what you didn’t marvel about as you walked together, hand clasping a ghost’s, was that his hands felt unnaturally warmer than the first time you ever touched him. sure, it was still rather cold, cold enough to make you pull away at the first touch. but gradually, it became warmer and warmer.
was it the wang mandoo he previously held that lent its warmth to him? or was it your very own warmth being transferred to him?
well whatever, warmth is warmth.
then the two of you engaged in a mundane conversation about everything and anything, which is weird, because as you walked through the sideways and the stores lined up next to you right beside each other didn’t seem to exist. in this moment, it’s only you and jinu in this world.
and well… maybe a glimpse of something unexpected in the windows’ reflection of these said stores.
your feet carried you through the old ancient rocky pavement of this lavish deserted korean mansion as you stormed in through the sliding doors and ran to one place in your mind—the library.
with ragged breaths, your eyes search for the one element in this old library that screams authority and history amidst these old yet new ceilings and corners.
whatever you’ve left off during that saturday night needs to be retrieved. you need to walk back through time to discover the answers of what you so badly needed to be answered.
the family heirloom of a book you snatched from the greek-looking book stand as you shine your light on the pages, flipping through the contents.
oh, you wished there would be a family spirit lingering around the corners of the library to aid you in your understanding. but all you have is a single cellular device which could translate old korean to modern korean.
shibal.
you translated page titles upon page titles, trying to find something relating to the happenings of earlier this morning. something about ghostly marriages and ghostly husbands being seen in the reflection of various stores.
how much time has passed since you came here? well, you don’t know. you didn’t keep up, having so lost in the pages and odd translations of this old book.
another curse you let out when you realised it was already 9:11pm, past the time which you told jinu you were going to spend at the convenient store to get some essential food for the home.
and to no avail, there was nothing in the thick family heirloom speaking about ghostly marriages through weird creepy stuff or a handsome wad of cash. or anything at all about the fact that your ghost of a husband is starting to appear in reflections.
what’s next? will his shadow be palpable?
you returned home, running through the cool night air while the wind clings to your hair. home sweet home it is, and you technically barged inside silently, somehow, to be met with jinu holding his finger.
it’s dark, and you can barely see anything with the small lamp you set up at your range hood, over your stove.
“jinu?” you called out softly to avoid shocking him as he turned around.
there you can see some sort of liquid dripping from the tip of his fingers. your eyebrows furrowed and you stepped closer to inspect the dripping liquid, bringing his finger under the soft glow of the lamp.
instead of you making the ghost shocked, he shocked you instead.
about. in which, this is an alternative universe with the saja boys as different fantasy characters / roles. gn¡reader.
notes. contains romance and fluffy content. takes place in different eras and AUs for each saja, overall it's just an experiment! might make it a series. 2500+ words.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ JINU, YOU SIREN ! lilith, saint avangeline.
do male sirens even exist? to the world, they were only females with alluring voices that struck the souls and pulled them into the cold ripples of the ocean water. their beauty was a trait, a charm, a necessity for survival out in the waters.
so what shall one utter from the tip of their tongue when they discovered that male sirens actually do exist?
the men are just like the women, except they are handsomely beautiful to the point where it haunts and remains in one gaze like a portrait of a dreamy woman. their voices… deep and smooth, but they sing through the air like they were praising the night sky with lullabies.
and like the human men who would fall for these alluring voices of the oceans, the women are no different now. voices mixed together, all sirens… are still sirens.
no. not when you realised you’ve made a mistake upon falling over the edge of your captain’s pirate ship. not when his voice drags you into the water, seeking his touch and wanting to hear that voice for an eternity.
what a fool you are—falling for the trap of a male siren. of course, nobody else could hear it. it was a song meant just for your ears to listen to, to revel in.
the dive into the ocean wasn’t graceful. the way you were pulled into jinu’s arms however, was graceful.
instead of struggling to get out of a siren’s grasp, you’re here … admiring him, even in the midst of danger.
his tail, a hue of deep blue that was swirled with the remnants of deep pink and red, wraps around your legs and his soft, padded thumb swept across your cheeks in a manner that has your heart racing.
he’s not going to kill you though. he thinks you’re pretty yourself, thinks you’re the first person who has ever listened to his voice and still not be afraid. what a gem you seemed to be that he has never laid eyes on for the first time in centuries.
jinu decided that he’d keep you, somehow. and that morphed into a strange life with you. whenever you visited, he’d blow you a bubble for you to breathe underwater.
the corals jinu would swim you through, letting you touch them or simply bask in the afterglow of the deep ocean depths.
was it scary? at first. but gradually, everything became an underwater adventure for you.
the merman made you clothes from the finest seaweeds and corals and pearls and he expects you to wear them whenever you are with him. you’re like his little human doll. a doll whom he’s grown fond of.
during the nights where you sit on the wet stones by the beach, jinu would sing for you. his tail gently swishes back and forth in the ocean as he sings you the legends of the deep blue sea or the songs he stole from sailors over the centuries.
how endearing. you might be the only human in this world who didn’t die by a single allure of a siren. even stranger, the said siren is in love with you.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ABBY IN SHINING ARMOUR ! i was all over her, salvia palth.
unwavering loyalty comes with equally ruined breastplates and sharpened blades of the almighty swords.
from a young age, sir abby vowed to die for you, laying his life down right at your feet when you were a little child. presented like a chest piece in your chest game of a life, the man is to ensure your safety and fulfill your every necessity.
abby would pick at the little spiky things stuck to your dress after you’ve ran through the flower fields, would stay up listening to your late night rambles, and would obviously… die for you.
he runs back and forth from training and war to peeling your shoes when you’re drunk from parties. these were common events in his knightly life, once where he’s grown so used to and most definitely fond of you. the royal he is meant to serve was a handful, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
no hesitation needed to lay his life down for you.
but his feelings were kept hidden under the disguise of military duties and unwavering loyalty. always the same damn word.
loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.
abby wishes he could eliminate any rules that spoke of a knight’s chastity, any rules that prevents him from embracing you, or any rules that would cost his life if he ever let his desires speak more than his logic.
it was something he had to live with, even if it meant he will spend an eternity of not having you in his arms or spend all his life dying without expressing his romantic feelings towards you, his prince/ss.
what a tale which would be written down in the history of fellow loyal knights. he would be an example to any young boy who desires to be a knight. and in that tale, he would warn the boys to never fall in love with the royal they were meant to serve.
it is wrong, apparently. but not so wrong every time he sets his gaze on you and your smile lights up his days darkened by bloodspill and grime that covers his dreams and visions.
what a fool for an honourable knight, sir abby, to even think he has a chance with you.
his feature pen cracks upon the old age, and he stares at the texts that were written down. his texts, his story. of you.
the talesnthat would be kept in the libraries meant just for knights amongst the guidebooks of war and strategies and how to sharpen a sword.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ROMANCE AT FIRST BITE ! a little death, the neighbourhood.
in the dead of night, the glow of the moon speaks louder than the silence accompanied by noises of the crickets and the cracks of the ground beneath you.
you’re absentmindedly walking around—a foolish idea, especially with such a radiant moon above the sky. the whispers and rumours of the townspeople have not reached you, apparently.
maybe they did, but you will not dwell in their unproven fantasies that a bloodsucking creature is on the loose.
courage and bravery is written all over your eyes as your feet carried you through the night. how strange, nobody is walking outside. perhaps the rumours have gotten under their skin and fear is already instilled in the depths of their heart.
well whatever.
vampires don’t exist anyways.
you kept that in your heart until a certain soft pink colour for hair brushed past your cheeks and down your shoulders. a pair of soft lips kissed the slope of your neck and warm hands caressed your curves in a way that made your knees weak.
soon enough, something sharp instilled in you instead of fear which was originally supposed to be the only thing you feel. yet this stinging pain at your neck felt odd. it was... nice. satisfying in a way you couldn’t explain.
ever since, romance has been following you everywhere you go. only through the night, of course. vampires cannot breathe under the sunlight nor can they even get a kiss from the streaks of the sun.
the handsome and utterly tall man with the most alluring touches always seeks to warm your skin, yearn for your touch, your body, your soul, and most of all, your blood.
rumours that travelled from the villagers weren’t false, that’s for sure. but never in this world would you ever think to survive an encounter with a blood sucking creature. what kind of vampire rests his eyes on an innocent walker in the middle of the night and claims that villager as his?
how absurd. but honestly? you like having romance around. just like his name, he’s the epitome of a perfect romantic. sweet kisses on the knuckles, nightly coffee brewed perfect just for you, gentle brushing of your hair, utter devotion to you.
this vampire is heads over heels in love with a human. and it really sucked, because you have to stay up all night just to spend it with him and never wake up in the warmth of his touch when the sun rises.
this vampire will lay his life down for you. would even ask the golems and make the leprechauns bow in your presence and maybe kiss the ground you walk on. if they don’t, may their respective gods bless them. he sure will not let it pass.
down to the castle of dracula shall romance visit to make the arrangements of golems and leprechauns’ extinction.
that… romance will make sure of it.
nothing and nobody will ever defy his lover, even as you grow old and still remain truthfully young. but that’s a sad story for another day.
all romance can think of right now is how to turn you into a vampire so the both of you won’t grow old and if you ever die, it’d be together and you’d be buried together.
so romantic.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ MY ANGEL BABY ! angel baby, troye sivan.
a messenger from heaven could not be so much of a foolish troublemaker, could he? no, angels are usually well-behaved angels of the father almighty.
so why exactly is a teal-haired angel with the most beautiful and elegant wings trampling on a patch of your flower garden in the middle of the day?
you’re staring out the window, shock filling you, disbelief written clearly all over your face. and if that description isn’t enough, let your shock be plastered on a billboard in either new york city or shibuya.
you stormed outside your house and called out to the angel, demanding a biblical explanation as to why he’s trampling your little patch of your precious flower garden with a glorious smile across his face.
only a smirk he shot towards your direction which obviously, shouldn’t hurt from an angel, but oh did this one pierced through your veil of patience.
he tells you it was a message from god in heaven to destroy your garden, since it contained some unseen bugs that conquered the patch of soil. when your disbelief almost caused you to rage, out crawled a limp scorpion. and you knew this angel was indeed sent to be your guardian or some sort.
still, he was more of a little mischievous devil than an angelic angel. this angel feels more like a baby to you rather than a fully matured angel that was supposedly to be the stereotype.
baby feasts on packets of your hot sauce and they occasionally stained his wings or his white clothes. that never bothered you. well, not until packets became bottles upon bottles. and soon, whole refill packets of hot sauce.
what’s even weirder was that he accidentally found your buldak samyang noodles and you did the sign of the cross in hopes that he wouldn’t discover the buldak hot sauce bottles one way or another.
your hopes were crushed when he kissed all over your face and even your feet just so you could get him bottles of the said hot sauce, all in different flavours.
and what did you get in return?
a cuddly, clingy angel baby.
here you have an angel from heaven right in your arms, leaning into your touch as he kisses your neck and chest and whatever skin he could touch and feel. hands caressing every inch of you as you feel your skin burned with joy and the remnants of the hot sauce on baby’s lips.
maybe having an angel as your supposed guardian or companion isn’t so bad at all. not when he’s a cuddly hot sauce-eating beautiful beast.
sometimes baby will still execute the most out of pocket thing around your house or wherever you go, but you believe that’s his charming trait. as long as he doesn’t trample on anymore of your precious soil patch, then you’re fine with it.
he’s your angel baby anyways.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WIZARD OF MYSTERY ! everything i wanted, billie eilish.
a lone wizard stood deep in the heart of the forest, where ancient trees wove a cathedral of green above his head and shafts of sunlight broke through like blessings.
mystery’s robes were a patchwork of light purple and midnight blues, blending so well with the undergrowth that he seemed half-made of the moonlit nights themselves. his hair long and silver threads spilled down his forehead and covered his eyes. they glinted faintly like cobwebs kissed by morning dew.
in one gnarled hand, he held a crooked staff, its top crowned with a crystal that pulsed faintly in rhythm with his breath. around him, the air shimmered with the quiet hum of enchantment—leaves rustled without wind, and curious woodland creatures lingered at the edges of sight.
his eyes, a piercing amber, held the weight of probably centuries yet sparkled with the mischief of a fox. the forest was his library, his fortress, and his oldest friend, and in its shadows, the wizard knew every secret whispered by root and branch.
but not the secret to romance.
definitely not how to properly act around when you appeared out of nowhere, touching precious experiments and spells in the middle of the forest and almost 'accidentally' drinking them out of curiosity.
he was fascinated—so to say. there was actually someone else that dared to step foot into his grim magical forest brewing with the secrets of the earth. and you were about to have a taste of a love potion.
funny. mystery brewed it for the witch of the west who just couldn’t make her own love spell. had he not stopped your antics, would you already have been utterly obsessed with him. to which—was kind of hellish if he thought about it.
but that’s fine. he’s got himself a little apprentice in witchcraft and wizardry. you’d help him brew spells, read the stars, and crack ancient texts so he could plan his next spell.
but there were nights where he’d watch you sleep on the couch with a hint of fondness in his eyes. the eyes of someone longing to hold and grasp onto something. the eyes of someone yearning to experience a tad bit of romance.
just a bit of affection and he’d feel completed in his entire lifetime as a magically mysterious wizard.
those nights were the ones where he rewards you with kisses on your forehead or pulling the blankets over your figure as you rest for the night. those sweet, silent nights, where mystery would gaze at you with his beautiful eyes which you’ve always begged him to let you see.
those wonderful nights where he decides to go against the worldly rules and allow himself to bask in your sleeping beauty.
just a quiet wizard after all with an adorable and curious apprentice, living life in the woods and far away from civilization. that’s truly the ultimate dream for mystery.
about. in which, it's obon matsuri, and the torii gate are opened for the dead to pass through the living world. touya is deceased soldier from WWII. this is a bittersweet romance with religious themes, japanese culture. touya might be ooc in some parts. 2200+ words.
notes. this is the second part to this. a rushed ending at the end bc i actually have no idea what i'm writing but i was thinking about ghost¡touya the other day and i miss him
TOUYA TODOROKI OF WWII—a japanese soldier who saw the horrors of the pacific asia war and was forced to indulge in the nightmares planted by the higher ups. this deceased soldier whom you met weeks before, is now a soul whom you’re seeing now, in this moment.
back at the foot of his grave, your hands in your pocket, eyes tracing the name, and unit number of his regime squad. a cold box of fresh soba laid just beside the candles you have set up for him.
it’s sunny again—a beautiful summer, like that one time where life took an odd turn to grant you a visit to the supposedly purgatory of the eastern asian region.
touya’s beside you, standing tall and proud with his uniform which serves as a reminder for his cruel history. the stars prominent in his soul and its colours of khaki standing out against his snow white hair. his scars were a physical testament to the aftereffects of the bombings that took place before his death.
he’s not eating the cold soba—simply standing by your side with the gentlest grazing of his fingers against yours. his turquoise eyes were also fixed on his own grave while he awaits for your internal heart, mind, and soul to finish your prayers for him.
prayers that kept him alive.
it’s something so precious to him when he sees the lake around the tree of life and death being filled with the sounds of your voice. every time he dips his hands into the clear waters, the waters are always overflowing with your sweet, gentle sound, filling his ears with warmth and a kind of love he has never felt before.
you said a soft amen and glanced at him, lightly nudging his fingers with your own. “touya, oh, touya,” you softly called, understanding the need that if you speak loudly, people all around you would watch your soul with terror.
after all, it is obon matsuri—a festival or holiday which commemorates the dead. plenty of people are all around the cemetery, wishing their beloved and praying for them.
you’ve uttered your prayers to your ancestors, and now you pay your mind to the deceased soldier. what can you say? there is no way even with the angel’s whispers can you ever resist the heavy desire to visit the grave of the angel who pressed gentle kisses to your lips in such gratitude and affection.
you missed touya todoroki. truly. it’s been months since the enchanted encounter. you missed his stories by the lake of prayers, his odd white hair with beautiful scars, his enchanting turquoise eyes, and the feel of his ghostly touch on your lips.
to not grin like a fool upon seeing him sit on his grave while he awaits your arrival is a great challenge, one that has you biting your lip instead of outright showing your joy to the world and people around them.
august thirteen, where the dead of the afterlife get to cross over the bridge and reunite with their beloved for about three days. touya had no loved ones. he’s perpetually lost and forgotten, and you’re the only alive soul who knows of his soul.
“missed you, praying girl,” the man said after you finished praying. then, he gave you a smile so small it was barely visible to the naked eye, but you always noticed the little things. even the stapled marks which were left behind as reminders of the gruesome war he had been through.
“i missed you too, touya.”
the dead man studied you for a moment, taking in the sight of you. the way peace is written all over your facial features and comfort lingers around, offering a kind of warmth that will never compare to the summer heat.
you are a safe haven in which he would like to revel in.
“your hair is longer,” said touya as he reached out to caress a strand of the hair which he found so marvellous at how long it had grown since the last time he saw you. so much time had passed, and it felt nice to see you again.
“and you’ve… nothing changed about you,” you stated, tilting your head slightly, and it gained an almost offended look across his features. but you were quick. quicker than he could ever react. “you’re still the same courageous and handsome man i knew! nothing bad. it’s just… you’re still the same…”
he took off his soldier hat, tipping it towards you with a wider, and far more charming smile. “that’s what happens when you’re a ghost from a few decades ago. you remain forever young and handsome.”
you chuckled at his words before your eyes swept over his grave and the untouched cold soba.
“how long are you going to be here in this world?”
“until before the torii gates closes,” he said and looked at you. “all around us right now are spirits, ghosts, creatures, and the likes of folktales.”
albeit being able to see touya todoroki, it seems like your vision is only limited to his presence, not those of the unnatural which he mentioned. but that’s quite alright with you. all you wanted was to see the ghost of the man whom you unknowingly prayed for.
sensing your silence to his words about the unnatural, he tilted his head slightly. “do you want to see them?”
you said yes, and now, you’re following his guide. his fingers were lazily intertwined with yours, pulling you along with him as you brushed past the shoulders of the very much alive people visiting their families.
the sun rests above your souls, covering everyone in a heated veil of warmth. you glanced at touya. he’s tall, that’s one thing. the other thing is… well, the way he occasionally brushed his thumb across the skin of your knuckles.
that earned blooming butterflies in your stomach. the way these butterflies itched to fly out your throat to express their fluttering to touya, to show him the affection which brewed within you just from the simple grazes and touches from a dead man’s touch.
how strange.
the gate of boundaries could be seen off into the distance of the cemetery which led to a forest.
two upright pillars supporting two horizontal crossbars—the lower bar straight and the upper one slightly curved upward at the ends, giving it a graceful, open shape. the traditional wood or stone, painted a striking vermilion red with black accents, while others remain in their natural material tones, weathered by time.
this is the gate between the mundane world and the sacred space beyond. and touya have brought you to it.
“come,” he guided you towards the side of the torii gate, passing through with ease, keeping in mind that the right side of the torii gate was for the spirits and whatnot to pass through.
upon crossing the symbolic gates, the world changed. once seeing empty forests and greeneries, you were greeted by the sight of joyous voices and an atmosphere that made the corners of your lips curve upwards into a fascinated grin.
spirits, legends, creatures, and everything alike, were everywhere.
touya saw the awe that was written all across your face, allowing himself to marvel in your beauty, before he tugged you forward.
“i want to show you something.”
up the man-made path did you and touya ascended into the forest, an oddly mutual ground for the beings of the afterlife to hang around. it wasn’t anything like the purgatory which you have accidentally paid a visit to.
this new spot felt like any outskirts of rural japan, where businesses took place in the markets and by the main towns.
afraid to lose you in the midst of all these strange creatures, the man held your hands tighter and definitely pulled you closer. nobody spared a glance. of course. why would they, when you’re technically one of them now, upon passing the torii gate?
frankly, you’re halfway deceased. temporarily. just like that time in purgatory where a big giant tree rests between worlds to connect and hold them all together.
the two of you walked, walked, and walked until your feet couldn’t carry you anywhere anymore. and by then, you have reached a busy village preparing for the summer festivals.
food stalls were being set up, fireworks were displayed by the side of the river, musical instruments were tinkered to get to the correct tune, and people were busy.
“in a few hours, we will celebrate summer here,” touya said. “these are people who don’t have family back in the living world. like me, they’re all alone.”
before you could even reply, he walked down the streets of the village and greeted the residents with a tip of his hat. they all returned the greeting, paying no mind to you as if they already knew who you were.
touya stopped by a flower stall and turned to the man who rested in a little wooden stool. “how much for a bouquet?”
“four maple leaves.”
you watched as touya fished his pockets and pulled out a few maple leaves. in silence, he handed four of the leaves to the old man, selecting the bouquet of his choice.
“thank you, mr. flowers.”
touya once again tipped his hat—a new habit he learned from one of the older men that has been living in purgatory for more than a century. then, touya turned to you, holding out the bouquet of different assorted flowers.
“for you. they will not rot, because they’re artificial.”
you took the bouquet and stared at it, heart fluttering at the gesture of the man. “for me..” you repeated under your breath, unable to conceal the crimson that coats your cheeks red.
rhe bouquet bursts with a mismatched yet harmonious riot of colors—a buttery yellow sunflower at the center, its wide face radiating cheer, framed by delicate blush-pink roses whose petals curl inward like secrets. around them, stalks of lavender lend slender elegance and a gentle, herbal perfume, weaving between sprays of tiny white baby’s breath like drifting clouds.
a few bold crimson gerberas inject drama, their velvety petals reaching outward, while pale blue hydrangea clusters soften the palette with their powdery hues.
eucalyptus leaves arc gracefully around the edges, their cool green tones calming the chaos, and a single sprig of wild daisies peeks out mischievously, as though it wandered in uninvited but decided to stay.
it’s a bouquet that feels less arranged than discovered—like a handful of seasons gathered in one moment, bound together by a simple ribbon, and made artificially by the lost souls who seek comfort in little things such as flowers.
it was perfect. truly, utterly perfect to you. a gentlemanly gesture that could grant you such simple happiness from touya todoroki himself.
“thank you, i love it,” you smiled up at his taller form, cheeks still coated in a soft blush.
what would you do when time is up? when the torii gate is finally going to close? when three days are over and you won’t get to see touya todoroki until the next obon matsuri again?
the thought instilled in your mind and forced you to lace your fingers with his, holding tightly to show him in silence how much you appreciated the flower and how much his presence brings you joy.
you’re going to work these three days out with him, spending every second with a man who ceased to exist decades ago during the asia pacific war.
thus the late night conversations, the trying of new food from the spirit realm, the knowledge of how the forgotten live in this world, and the comfort of touya’s arms.
strange, warm, and comforting.
you had returned to the living world to retrieve a single picture of touya todoroki when he first joined the regiment, a photo you had worked months just to collect from the military.
he was seventeen in the image, features still perfect and handsome as ever, just without the reminders of battle and hardships. and it was something you and touya would laugh about in the dead of night in his warm futon with his warm arms holding you close.
when the time arrived for the closing of the torii gate, you remembered the eternal embrace you and touya dwelled in. such a long hug it was, that you could still feel the ghost of his warmth and the feeling of his body against yours.
“i’ll see you again, sometime, sweet girl,” he whispered into your ears and planted a kiss onto the side of your head, moving down to kiss your nose and landed a chaste kiss onto your lips, one that feels all too familiar like those months ago.
“i’ll miss you. as always,” you said with a soft chuckle, unaware of the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. the man wiped it with his thumb, though, giving you one last hug.
“i’m always with you. whether you know it or not.”
and just like that, he flashed you a sweet smile and disappeared through the gates.
you clutched the summer bouquet which touya todoroki gave you close to your heart. oh, how you have fallen in love with a dead man. that was the undeniable truth which blossomed during this wonderful summer.
content. chapter five includes growing romance and also a super tiny pinch of angst, minor gore descriptions, jinu being a gentleman, and some crack. 2000+ words.
at the edge of a forgotten forest stands a grand korean mansion—hanok in form, yet unlike any other in this new age. though more than four centuries old, its curved tiled roof gleams midnight black, untouched by moss or dust. the wooden beams which were impossibly smooth stretching out like polished silk, their deep brown grain glinting gold under the sunlight.
paper doors slide silently, their surfaces flawless and white like freshly fallen snow. if having a ghost husband isn’t strange enough, how in the world is a wooden paper door from 400 years ago still so clean and intact?
this is your ghostly husband’s house when he was alive. this lavish and grand mansion belongs to the honoured jinu of the saja family. and now he’s giving you a friendly house tour of a mansion that looks as if it’s frozen in time.
lanterns hang unlit yet unweathered, their silk threads vibrant as though woven yesterday by the fingers of the royal king’s headmaids. the empty stone courtyard feels oddly warm underfoot, free from cracks or weeds.
it feels clean. new. too new, like a memory refusing to fade. time itself seems trapped within its walls, holding onto centuries like an endless breath waiting to be exhaled.
inside, the air carries no scent of age. floorboards creak not in decay, but as if acknowledging every step. silk curtains flutter gently, though no wind moves. bowls of polished jade sit atop tables, their contents—untouched rice and tea—never rotting, never disturbed.
this all roused a strong sense of confusion in your mind.
“how is all of these still… new. you said you died about 400 years ago. how is this all possible if you’re the last heir of the family?”
jinu ran his fingers through the old family paintings which still looked freshly painted from the kingdom’s most skillful painters. his gaze never left the image of his mother and sister, his thumb tracing soft circles around the outlines of the brush strokes.
as he spoke, his gaze and touch never left the painting on the mulberry paper.
“probably my servants took care of the mansion after my passing. then their children and grandchildren and more of it,” said jinu as he finally let go of the painting hanging on the wall. “to be absolutely fair, i have no clue either. i’m just as confused as you are.”
you watched as he looked around the mansion, and you followed. “think i can explore on my own while you reminisce?”
the ghost shook his head. “no, don’t go exploring alone. we don’t know who or what is lurking around the corner.”
a look of twisted grimace you sent to jinu’s way as he uttered such words. how is he concerned with his own mansion being inhabited after all these years when he’s intangible to everyone else but you?
“nobody can even see you. why are you worried?
“i’m worried about you. it’s your safety which i’m concerned about. you’re my wife, and i have to protect you. even in my own home.”
oh, jinu. what a sweetheart you are. if only you aren’t a ghost... you said to yourself in your mind, wishing he doesn’t have another ghostly special ability to read your mind.
“don’t leave my sight,” jinu said, no, he commanded, walking towards you until you could feel the phantom touch of his coldness. he hesitantly reached his hands out, gently brushing your fingers before wrapping his fingers around yours.
it was a sweet and light touch, meant to represent chastity and innocence. and honestly? you wanted to eliminate the butterflies which fluttered in your stomach. you felt like vomiting them out, strangely affected by the touch of jinu.
so you ended up allowing him to lead you around the old yet well-maintained hanok. he showed you every corner there is, his own suspicion growing further with each turn. upon reaching the grand library kept with every old korean secret, you inhaled the air where centuries worth of memories lingers.
even the library was dust-free, clean, and in perfect condition. the books which obediently sit on the bookshelves were just slightly yellowish along the cracks and edges of the pages. and that’s about it. it’s the only proof that something in this grand mansion has aged.
“i want to find something. don’t stray too far, please,” jinu said as you nod, feeling a tinge of disappointment upon his cold fingers which unwrapped around yours. he walked towards a specific spot, which you immediately assumed was where all his favourite book rests.
now it is time to execute what you initially wanted to carry out. explore the heart of jinu on a deeper level. here are the few steps in your mission;
O1. find the guts to wander the library. try not to freak out when you find another ghost at the corner watching your every move.
O2. pick the weirdest looking book that stands out. usually sitting on a display like a royal king’s crown.
O3. snatch the book and read it. maybe urge the ghost at the corner to come read for you if you can’t understand ancient korean.
that’s about it. it should be easy. no challenge seems to be in your path to glory and finding out answers about your mysterious ghost husband and his family. who knows? perhaps you’ll get your inquiries answered about this house as well.
you glanced around, seeing jinu still running his fingers through the bookshelves, trying to find for what you assumed was one specific book which his mom probably reads to sleep for him.
so you made your move. mission impossible time. you can only hope to pray that there is no ghostly apparition sticking out at the corner like moaning myrtle to grace you with the afterlife blessings.
looking around every corner, you slide your way through the shelves. your eyes scanned every book on the shelves. a variety of genres rests on these ancient shelves; war, ancient politics, letters to the king, meditation, and even how to make hanbok.
these are exactly the type of books you’d expect to be sitting in this library. old, ancient, and archaic scriptures.
and so far, nothing that fits the description of step two. step one is in progress. you found the guts to wander around, albeit you’ll admit to yourself that you are nervous for a jumpscare in this chapter.
step two? erh... work in progress.
it’a a wip, until you spot a flawless looking book glistening at the corner of your eyes. you whipped your head in the direction and there it is... your step two.
a thick book sits at the corner of the library, close to the mansion windows which looked like a barricaded prison window. it’s locked up, secured, like it was meant to keep people out, and the book is just there to tempt and entice passersby.
you approached the book and cautiously looked around for any trap that might cut your wrist off or spike your skin. and thankfully, nothing seems to be threatening. not even a ghost came to greet you.
the book idly rests on a stand. it was marble, like the ones you see in greek museums.
with a subtle touch, your fingers grazed the book. you felt around the faded hanji paper, the cover bearing delicate brushstrokes. black ink aged to a soft charcoal, forming hanja characters worn at the edges. the binding threads, once crimson, have dulled to a quiet rust, yet remain tightly woven.
upon the inspection of the book, you realised that it’s simply not just a book, but a relic. it’s a vessel of forgotten wisdom and prayers long since whispered into its spine.
you carefully opened the first page. then the second. and occasionally a few more. your eyes skimmed through the whispering pages, earning soft crinkles like wind through dry leaves.
each sheet of the page is thick, fibrous, and faintly yellowed by centuries, yet miraculously intact. the ink has bled slightly with time, giving the calligraphy a ghostly blur, as if the words are slowly slipping into legend.
your gaze scanned the small stains dot the corners. traces of fingers, tea, or candle smoke were silent witnesses to generations who once turned these very pages. the scent is earthy and faintly medicinal, like ginseng and old wood.
there you see illustrations attached below the texts. yet it’s a shame that you can’t read ancient korean. so only the pictures can help you paint a faint idea in your mind about the contents.
at page seven, the voice of a ghost snapped your focus, causing you to flinch and scrambled the book back to the marble stand. you turned around and found jinu standing a few feet away from you, a book in his hand—the one you assumed was his favourite or close to it.
“hi!” you flashed a flustered grin before the ghost tilted his head. “why are you going through my family heirloom?”
oh!
so that’s his family heirloom of a book. wait. his family heirloom is a book??
“i was just curious. y’know. about your family, i guess,” you replied hastily and stepped towards him. “what’s in your hands?”
jinu held out the book and looked at it. “a guidebook on marriage. this specific is about how to treat your wife right.”
oh my goodness.
this man. i mean, this ghost.
“jinu. why do you need a book about that?” you asked confusedly, trying your hardest not to melt like ice cream at his innocence. there is no way a man from four centuries ago is trying to understand about treating his wife right.
“i just want to make you happy, wifey,” he replied and gave you a tiny smile that made your heart clench you swear it squeezed together and burst in your insides.
terrifying jokes aside, the book which you were reading was now forgotten, all focus shifted to the fact that jinu needed a physical guidebook on how to treat you right. hilarious. but what a sweetheart he is. really.
now, you’re back at home after his house tour, mind still occasionally travelling back to the thick family heirloom sitting around the corner of his library near the damn window. who the hell even thought of leaving it there in the first place??
well whatever.
jinu’s sitting at the edge of your bed, reading the guidebook, and you’re in the middle, watching him. your eyes glanced at the clock at your nightstand.
“jinu. it’s late. i know you don’t sleep, but, i just want to tell you. as your wife. y'know?”
he looked up and gave you the same tiny smile he always gave you. that seemed to be the extent of his smile. always that same melancholy one that yearned for something more. he shut the book and set it on your study table.
“all right. thank you for telling me. you should sleep. you have work tomorrow?”
you shook your head. “no. it’s a sunday. family time.”
the man nodded. “yes. family time. our time,” he said and stood up, walking over to you. “it’s been two weeks, i think, and you haven’t given me three kisses a day at all.”
heat crept up your cheeks, painting them a light hue of blush. “you’re supposed to forget about that.”
“no, i’m not. i think about it every night,” he said and leaned down to your height, shifting his head to the side. then, his long fingers tapped his right cheek once and twice.
“kiss. three times.”
with plenty reluctance and hesitance, you agreed in silence. your lips pressed against his cheeks in three soft and chaste pecks, feeling the way his skin, although cold, feels on your lips.
“are you happy now?” your cheeks burn with embarrassment when something close to a smirk, or it was that same small smile he always gave you, surfaced across his lips.
“i am,” he replied. “i am a happy husband. and i think i’ve been a good one so far. so… more kisses?”
content. chapter four includes a kpop mv livestream reaction of alternative saja boys' soda pop (alt version). biggest thanks to @skriblobz for rewriting the lyrics and basically contributing to this chapter 😝 all crack and brain rot. does not follow og kpdh plot. 1200+ words.
it was an average saturday night and you’re here, bored of your mind. usually, you’d have debt collectors coming for your throat. and now that all have been paid, all you have is a clingy ghost husband who you swore is some sort of vengeful spirit.
and you’re about to go on live with him.
you see, besides working a mundane office job, you have quite the fun job during the weekends. for the fun of it, you somehow have a streaming account. and tonight, your husband will have his first debut in your social life.
“hi all! welcome back to another live! today’s fun, because i have a special guest which all of you cannot see. don’t fret, he’s very much here with us, and his name is jinu! woo hoo! jinu, say hi to everyone. and everyone, say hi to jinu.”
@skriblobz:
jinu?? blud who the hell bro introducing rn 👁️👁️
@kaiser1ns:
kur
@rirk-ke:
WHO’S JINU WHERE WHAT WHO DARES TO STEAL Y/N AWAY
the man looked at the computer screen, studying this weird rectangular or square device and the comments popping up every second.
“hi.”
you grinned and turned to the camera. “anyways. me and jinu are going to do a live reaction to this music video of… saga dudes…?”
“what the hell kinda name is that,” you murmured and clicked on the music video before pausing at the thumbnail.
“sparkling juice,” jinu read out the title as you hummed in response. “alright guys. let’s watch and review sparkling juice from saga dudes!”
@scara-simp69:
OMG I LOVE SAGA DUDES
@tsukimoon-chan:
the mv is so good! saga dudes fan here (:
@insideoutjulie:
enigma and biceps at the SAME damn time
@snowy-violet:
SAGA DUDES MENTIONED OMFG??*!"?"
*music plays*
SPARKLING JUICE by SAGA DUDES.
[INTRO]
hey, hey
hey, hey
hey
“oh yeah the intro is catchy.”
[VERSE 1: JEANS]
don’t want you, need you
yeah, i need you to match my freak
나는 노력했다
하나를 찾을 수 없습니다
“he looks like you! this black haired guy!” you exclaimed and jinu shook his head. “no. i’m more handsome. and match my freak? what’s that?”
you laughed. “i’ll explain later.”
@aerissblog:
wait so you’re saying jinu looks like jeans? that’s OPPA right there
@queenofklonnie22:
EXPLAIN WHAT LATER 🤨🤨🤨
@lizzie-harper:
JEANS CAN BE UNZIPPED IDC FR #NEEDTHAT
[VERSE 2: ENIGMA, INTIMACY, BICEPS]
lookin’ like snacks ‘cause you got it like that
take a big bite, want another bite, yeah
“oh yeah. he’s hot.”
jinu frowned.
[VERSE 2 CONTINUE]
너의 모든 걸 난 원해, 원해, 원해
너 말곤 모두 뻔해, 뻔해, 뻔해
when you’re in my arms, i struggle a lot (a lot)
when you’re fangirling way too much
“wifey, i’m more attractive than them right? these boys are nothing compared to me!”
“hey hey hey,” you paused the music video and looked at jinu accusingly. then you simply stared at him before resuming the music video.
“you know what? yeah. you are more attractive than them.”
[PRE CHORUS]
cause i need you here with me,
i’m lonely, you feel me
so damn lonely
my little sparkling juice
@heartkaji:
girly did not just say the “invisible” guest is more attractive than intimacy BFFR.
@heartshapedcookiesfordessert:
MY LITTLE SPARKLING JUICE
@y2kuromi:
OMG ITS THAT PART YYYEYEYYSYSYSYS
“is this the trending part?” you asked and watched as the music video changed to all of the saga dudes dancing in the middle of a plaza.
[CHORUS]
you’re all i can goon to,
everytime i feel blue
you’re my sparkling juice,
my little sparkling juice
“wifey, the song is catchy. what is goon?"
“erm. we don't talk about that. why are their legs like that LOL. what the heckies.”
“sparkling juice i love.”
[CHORUS CONTINUE]
cool me down, you’re so hot
pour me out ‘til i spill out
you’re my sparkling juice
my little sparkling juice
“my little sparkling juice~” jinu hums to himself during the instrumental part.
“guys i think jinu likes sparkling juice already. you guys can’t see it but he’s bobbing his head to the beat,” you announced and chuckled at jinu.
[VERSE 3: INFANT, BICEPS]
uh, make me wanna rock on top
한 방울에 i hit the spot
every little flip and flop
rizz and pop
나에게 상처 it's getting rough
“OH HIS VOICE IS LIKE AN OPERA SINGER’S??”
“he looks like a baby though.”
@therooftoprunner:
INFANT IS LITERALLY FELIX
@ianyanko:
RIFJT OMF HES SO CUTE and his voice AAAAHHDHDJ
@fvckcare:
jinu face reveal where
[VERSE 3: BICEPS]
yes, i’m sippin’ when it’s drippin’ now
it’s done? i need a second round
and pour a lot and don’t you stop
til my sparkling juice, spills non-stop
“okay yeah that’s the hot guy.”
“wifey.”
“sorry. it’s the warm guy.”
[PRECHORUS]
i waited so long for someone to match my
match my freak, wait’s over, baby
come and fill me up
just can’t get enough
“what is match my freak???”
you paused the video and looked at jinu. and to everyone else, you’re staring at nothing. which is starting to make them insane but that’s fine, because jinu is happy to be there anyways.
“match my freak means to match someone’s unusual interests. in that case, saga dudes are probably talking about matching their freaks in the terms of sparkling juice? i don’t know.”
the man stared at you, and you stared at him back. then, he pressed on the space bar key, which made the sparkling juice video play again. then you catch a glimpse of something in the screen.
[CHORUS]
[OUTRO: JEANS]
ooh, ooh (2x)
you’re my sparkling juice
never letting you loose
when the music video ends, you sink into the chair and let out a sigh. “wow… that was… wow.”
“right? a bunch of young fellow gentlemen dancing and singing. is this the era now and what it has come to?”
you glared at him. “this is kpop, jinu. welcome to 21st century, man from 400 years ago,” you rolled your eyes and grinned at the webcam.
“so guys! that was me and jinu’s reaction to saga dudes’ sparkling juice music video! honestly, great video, great handsome looking guys, the song is catchy! and yes. match my freak!!”
“yes. match my freak. match me and wifey’s freak,” he spoke and you glanced at him. “oh yeah? you want me to match your freak?”
@iris-arcadia:
MATCH HIS FREAK. MATCH HER FREAK. MATCH MY FREAK.
@livelaughlovekuni:
jinu is so mood like yeah i’ll match whatever INVISIBLE freak he has
@lovely-maryj:
why’s no one talking about how fine enigma and intimacy like OMFG fine SHYTS
@suntizme:
y/n!! learn sparkling juice dance!!
@floralchest:
yeah i paid to watch ts. never fails.
“yes. i want you to match my freak.”
“there you have it chat! jinu wants me to match his freak. by the way he’s my husband. see ya’ll next time!”
you ended the stream then and there. you could sniff the demands for an answer in your social media already—the people revelling in the fact that you dropped such casual words and ended the stream quicker than all your usual other streams. if anything. it felt like a 10 minute stream.
“that was fun,” jinu commented and you raised a brow, a tiny little smile surfacing. “yeah? they can’t see you, y'know?”
“i know. but i like watching whatever this strange device thing with you. it feels nice.”
you leaned back on your chair, smile growing genuine. to show a man from four centuries ago what the modern world looks like was certainly fun. it felt like a history class with a prehistoric dead man.
jinu’s right. it does feel nice. alright tumblr. this is the part when you decide you’re developing a little crush on this ghost. insane.
you saved the screen recording of the live stream and saved it. because how in the world are you going to explain the fact that when jinu pressed the space bar, a very thinly veiled faint image of him appeared on your screen through your webcam?
TAGS .𖥔 ݁ everyone mentioned the livestream's comments are the people in the taglist. additionally, @grandlightcandy @karenusia @kpopgirliez @ballads-for-kuni @purplefluffycows @20100165 @mavix @mshope16 @moonjellyfishie @yukimaniac @artistadistrada2002 @sylum @osball @not-morgan @lostsomewhereinthegarden
note. fem decora¡reader. from this request. this is probably one of the most interesting trope requests ive gotten and baby is like THE perfect guy for it
ocean teal eyes watched as you did your makeup in front of your vanity mirror littered by colourful makeup products. all sorts of colours in the world in vibrant hues surrounds you like a veil that covers over both you and baby saja.
it's interesting to watch you—always have been. there was never a dull moment with drowning in your world of different splashed of bright colours that shone more than baby's usual bright colours. his dark cyan hair was no competition in your colourful room.
you're here dressed like an absolute shining star ready to twinkle off into the rainbows and he's here admiring the love of his life in silence because all he ever does is be fascinated at how cute you look in every outfit you put on.
just as you've finished sticking on a random assortment of stickers onto your cheeks, he finally sits up from your bed and heads to where you're seated. a hand he places on your shoulders before he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulders, leaning into you as his eyes locked onto yours in the reflection.
"you're so pretty, sugar," he compliments and you smiled at his words, thanking him in the process after ruffling with his soft hair. he grinned at your action and reached out for the liploss you always used, the one he bought for you when he was on tour with the saja boys.
baby twists the cap opened and applied it on his perfect lip. he spreads it everywhere before puckering his lips. how strange. why's your boyfriend putting in your lipgloss? that twisted a raise in the eyebrow, accompanying your confusion like a loyal friend.
once he's done, he holds your face and then kisses your lips in hopes that the gloss on his lips would paint your own lips in return.
it immediately earned you a blush and more kisses from your adorable boyfriend. once he pulled away, your lips are stained with the colour of your gloss, although uneven and faint.
baby tilted his head before brushing your lower lip with his thumb in attempts to spread the rest of your gloss to cover your lips. it's futile, however, seeing the way he kinds of frowned a bit.
"open up," he commands softly and you part your lips immediately. "good girl."
with that, baby carefully applies the lipgloss on your lips, coating the spot that had missed when he kissed you. after he's done, a look of triumph spreads across baby's face.
"really so pretty," said the idol, his fingers moving to gently poke your nose covered by a cute bandaid. "my pretty girl."
content. chapter three includes mentions of jinu's death (not according to the actual plot of kpdh), some growing fluff between the two, teeny bit of angst. 1300+ words.
on the hillside, your eyes gazed upon a tombstone that wrote the name of your husband-in-spirit. if there was a font in english, it would be garamond or georgia, or something similar to it.
because truly… his grave seemed to be rather grand—fancy in a way that you could only pray that when you breathed your last breath, someone beloved would grant you such a lavish grave like jinu’s.
“how’d you die?” you asked, leaning down to trace your fingers over his name engraved on the lavish tombstone. he’s standing beside you in all of silence, taking in your reaction to where his actual body laid for over four centuries.
“i fell off a bridge.”
you looked up at him, brows raised. “are you serious?”
the man nodded and let out a sigh. “dead serious. get it? dead serious,” he flashed you a slow creepy grin, obviously meant for any creepy entity to scare little children. it gave you a deadpanned face instead.
no way a handsome ghost is trying to scare you right now. his face card is too insane to be terrifying.
jinu sees the way that you stared at him stoically—a hint of judging in your eyes before he sighed. you weren’t going to buy his silly dead joke anyways.
“i was in my carriage, then it was night, raining heavily. the path was rocky, the bridge unseen. my rider did not want to stop, he proceeded and—”
“you fell off!” you finished his sentence with a gasp. “it was that haunted bridge, right? where the envelope and all the creepy things were, right!?”
“no.”
“oh.”
“that’s another bridge, wifey,” he rolled his eyes and squatted down to your height, though obviously, taller than you are. “someone had placed the ritual and wealth on that bridge, but i assure you, it’s not that one which i died at.”
“how morbid…” you commented and looked at him. his eyes were locked onto the tomb, as if trying to break it with his gaze where it would reveal whatever is underneath.
jinu longed to feel human again, longed to extract his body beneath and enter it once again just so he could walk around the soils of the earth, feeling everything that is now so foreign to him.
red-rimmed eyes under his pale skin from the dramatic crashing out show he put on just a day or ago when you asked for a divorce right after marriage, shifted to land on you.
“dear husband, i want a divorce.”
how cruel can one be to express the desire in divorcing their husband right after their marriage? it’s hasn’t even been a day. and you haven’t even fulfilled your marital duties as husband and wife yet! well, whatever. not like he’s alive anyways.
jinu took in your form—how human you are.
how… real.
and he’s simply just there, just an entity that had crossed realms to plant his presence in your life through wads of cash and plentiful trinkets along with a patch of his hair.
creepy, but somehow it all feels worthwhile.
a smile he shot at you before standing up and holding his hands out. “come on.”
you looked at his hands held out for a moment, taking in how unalive he is, yet so alive to you when you accepted his hands. the cold on his finger tips were slowly melted away by the warmth of your hands.
all these little interactions are still strange to you. you could never get used to them so quickly. i mean, who are you kidding? this is an unknown ghost which you have unknowingly married. by the laws of the universe and the logic of the human mind, you are never supposed to get used to this.
strange concepts and ideas are meant to always live in the bodies of metaphors.
but.. it’s not like it mattered right..? since this has already happened and... jinu is incredibly a handsome ghost of a man. when you are given something, you ought to enjoy it. and you don’t mind a little bit of fun with jinu now that he’s here with you.
“hey, have you tried jjajangmyeon before?” you asked him as he tilted his head.
“what is that?”
a smirk formed at the corner of your lips as you tugged his hands, pulling him along the walkway of the graveyard. “it’s a black bean noodle dish with thick sauce. probably didn’t exist back in your days but it’s cheap and so freaking amazing,” you explained.
“are you taking me to eat this… jjajangmyeon?”
“mhm!”
“but ghosts can’t eat nor do we get hungry.”
you stopped and looked at him, a frown forming. “then how am i supposed to feed my husband when he can’t even eat? oh, to be domestic.. to spoil my man, and he can’t even accept what i want to feed him?!”
a look of conflict is on jinu’s face as he considered your words. he’s a phantom of a being, something which isn’t so very tangible to the world but only you, his betrothed. here you are, wanting to introduce to him what people in this world and era eats, and here he is, unable to consume anything.
“can you at least try to eat it? it’s really epic,” you pleaded, actually, really, wanting to eat jjajangmyeon with him now.
jinu now raised an eyebrow, a touch of skepticism in his gaze. this idea seemed absurd to him. but there was something almost endearing about your insistence.
he sighed, shaking his head gently. “fine. i’ll humour you. but i can assure you it won’t end well. i’ll try, if it pleases you so much.”
“YIPPAY!”
to the jjajangmyeon restaurant both of you went. and two plates of the beloved noodle with thick black bean sauce laid on the table, on opposing sides. the scent wafted through your noses and internally, jinu drooled at the sight.
you watched as he cautiously took a small bite after struggling to materialise the chopsticks. the moment the food touched his lips, he paused. he chewed slowly, his expression shifting from doubt to… confusion. he chewed some more, clearly contemplating the taste or rather, the lack thereof.
when he swallowed, he remained silent for a moment. his gaze flicked back to you. there was a strange mix of emotions in his eyes now. surprise, confusion, a touch of something, almost like fascination.
“i can taste it, which is weird, but there’s no substance. it's like... a shadow of taste…”
wonder filled your eyes as you took your own big bite. “yeah, that’s so hecking cool. a ghost eating jjajangmyeon, epic!”
“swallow first before talking,” jinu scolded before staring at the black bean noodle in front of him, trying to figure out how he could consume the food.
it isn’t supposed to be like this. he isn’t able to swallow it, much less run past his lips to allow some chewing. hell, he isn't supposed to have the ability to materialise anything he wishes to touch!
the taste, the illusion of it... it’s almost intoxicating, in an odd, unsatisfying way. a reminder of what he lost. this felt like a cruel tease of what jinu once took for granted.
you don’t seem to listen to his words, your mind clouded by the flavour of sweetness and savoury flooding your tongue. he watched you eat for a moment before giving himself a little smile and picking up his chopsticks after another moment of struggle.
jjajangmyeon isn’t so bad, albeit jinu couldn’t really taste it the way you savoured it. yeah… it isn’t so bad for his first epic date with you, his beautiful wife, to visit his grave and then eat epic jjajangmyeon later on.
in the end, he only had two bites before the chopsticks fell from his grasp and onto the floor.
content. chapter two includes mentions of rituals, a minor mention of blood, some crack, like one or two profanities, and a teeny bit of romance if you squint. 1200+ words.
currently, it feels like a staring contest worthy of being an official sport in the olympics, with a handsome man with the darkest hues of the black. his eyes, seeming to morph from one colour to another, bore into your soul as if he could find a ring inside.
silly you.
your soul is basically his ring—his key to roam around the soils of the earth.
how could you forget? he called you his wife, and even wrote you a heartwarming message that left your windows still stained with a substance which you’re going to confidently assume was blood.
great.
who’s blood was it? you don’t even want to know. how are you going to clean it? you have no clue either.
now what? you’re going to be the first to speak up about the mess on your room window? or was it the fact that he kept calling you wife?
gosh, that damn word is pissing you off the more you think about it.
“wife—”
“shut up.”
a long stretch of silence took over the atmosphere again. only this time… it’s filled with tranquility—something that felt like it came out from a korean painting.
this is so freaking strange. it started off as just a storm, then came your electricity which shut off at a roar of thunder. now… this.
whatever this is.
you’re on the bed, cooped up and very much comfortable. but then you realised that this handsome stranger would be the only one who could have somehow tucked you in when you lost consciousness.
the staring continues.
“who are you?”
the silence is finally broken with your voice. fear is still lingering around, yet an impending sense of annoyance lurks within the depths of your heart. you don’t know why.
the man tilted his head slightly, seeming to take in your confusion. then, he spoke. his voice was deep and formal, as if every word was carefully chosen. the way he spoke was archaic, almost like he was from a different era. which to be fair, he was.
“do you not remember me, wife?”
there it is again.
wife.
wife.
wife.
“no. and i am not your wife. where is my ring, if so?”
at your words, his jaw tensed ever so slightly. was that surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by that stoic expression which he portrayed?
he leaned back in your vanity chair, resting his arms on the edge of the bed, which made you scooted away a little bit. there was a hint of irritation in his voice when he spoke again.
“you do not seem to recall our… wedding night, my dear wife?”
your lips are pursed, not sure if you even want to respond or not. this is absurd. truly, heavily, very much absurd. a man who claims to have a wedding with you?
oh, you wish. a handsome man like the one sitting at the edge of your bed right now has been making you nervous this whole time.
yeah, maybe it was because he’s so attractive, that you mistook your nervousness for fear. has the lord in heaven finally heard your prayers to grant you a handsome man as husband?
what's this? a series episode titled "i woke up married to a handsome ghost"?
the man’s patience was starting to wane, even if his voice remained eerily even. his gaze grew sharper, the tone turning a little colder. with every word, he seemed to be holding back the building frustration.
but still, there was... something else in those dark eyes. a sense of longing, loneliness. a desire for you to remember something that you seemed to have... forgotten.
“the debt you owed, our little ritual, on that night of the bridge. and the storm. it was part of our… union. a ritual to bind our spirits together in marriage,” said the man in a veneer of old-fashioned politeness. “a spiritual marriage, if you will.”
you stared at him, gaze scanning around his hanbok and his odd way of speaking that solidified his words. yet all these yapping and not a single of your questions are answered.
“ok. that’s besides the point. what’s your name?”
“jinu, jinu saja.”
“oh ok.”
“that’s all? oh ok?” jinu asked in mock confusion. “i am your husband and you are my wife. i am expecting a kiss from you. at least three times a day, wifey.”
did your title just change from wife to wifey? oh this spiritual man is getting way too comfortable in your bed and around you.
but wait—
your initial fear is returning as you look at the red envelope which carefully sits above your desk. it still looked like it was full and ready to be used. if there was an imagery definition, the envelope would be seducing you right now. that’s when you remembered.
oh throughout heaven and earth, did your jaw drop at the realisation that sinks into your mind.
it was the envelope! and the cash! and the weird creepy stuff inside of it! it was jinu’s hair, jinu’s trinkets, and jinu’s DNA and his very own money inside of it!
in a flash, you stepped out from underneath your warm sheets and went to snatch the envelope, holding it up for him.
“this is yours, isn’t it?”
jinu nodded. “yes they are. it’s part of the ritual, a symbolic representation that binds us together.”
“and are they mine now? the money, i mean.”
the man narrowed his eyes at your question and nodded again, replying with a sheepish look on his face. “indeed, they’re now yours. i have more. i am wealthy and i can spoil you.”
“SHIBAL YES! WOOOOOOHOO!”
your cheers terrified the man, making him freeze in comical shock. you’re cheering for the fact that he is wealthy? what a terrifying modern woman you are…
you kissed the red envelope and set it back aside before moving to sit next to him. “so, are you like.. i don’t know, touchable? if i touch you, will my hand go through you?”
surprise flickered on jinu’s face. he’d expected many things, but that question clearly caught him off guard. it was a very logical question, to say the least, asking if jinu was basically tangible or intangible.
“you can touch me.”
as soon as you received the green light to feel him with your own skin, you could feel the temperature difference. he was... cold. his skin was ice-like under your touch. and indeed, he was tangible, very real, even if he felt different.
“i’m a ghost—a spirit who has crossed between realms. i no longer possess the warmth of the living. and yet, here i am, bound to you by a spiritual marriage, a link you seem to have lost memory of.”
your fingers gently feel around his own fingers, taking in his cold and allowing your warmth to seep into his skin. he watched with anticipation, intrigued by the sudden action when you hold his hand in yours, thumb seemingly rubbing gentle circles around his skin unconsciously.
“so you’re my handsome husband, and i’m your very much alive wife.”
“my very much beautiful and alive wifey,” corrected the man as he looks at you. “and i’m still expecting at least three kisses a day.”
your hands tightened on his, looking back at him, both of your eyes locked in an oddly comforting trance rather than the judgemental and uneasy one since the moment you woke up from fainting.
there was something about jinu and the entire idea of being a dead man’s bride that strike your soul.
Would it be possible to maybe get a Drabble or Headcanons about how the Saja Boys (or just Baby) would react to a gn!reader who is scared of loud noises like fireworks or thunderstorms? Preferably something soft and fluffy if that’s okay!
🫰
HERE WITH ME ───── saja boys. fluffy content.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ JINU SAJA
he didn't know. never knew you were terrified of fireworks. so immediately, it was a bad idea and he regretted ever bringing you to seoul's annual fireworks festival. jinu sees you trembling, hands covering your ears, and he's confused at first. but the fear in your eyes is evident.
sweet jinu covers his hands over yours, his thumb brushing your cheeks before he holds you close to him and leads you away from the han river as the fireworks cracks above you. but oh dear, you didn't want to leave the place. fireworks are so pretty, they always have been. you stopped him, shaking your head.
but he prioritises to get you out of there, for the sake of easing your fears for the loud noises. when you insist, he shots you a small smile and stands behind you, covering your ears while his chin is rested on your shoulders, close to you where his warmth could serve as something you can hold onto. at the end of the day, you both gazed at the bursting fireworks, seeing the wonders and colours together.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ ABBY SAJA
thunderstorm of a night where the rain pours out it's wrath instead of just simple and subtle tears. it's raging outside, and you're scared. scared that your ears might bleed at the sound of the thunder cracking. abby sees it, he notices the way you cuddle up to him, trying to block your sense of hearing from the voice.
and though it doesn't really do anything to completely block out the loud noise, he holds you close. abby holds one side of your cheeks against his chest and covers your other ear with his hand. maybe it doesn't seem to help, but the way he presses occasional soft kisses onto the top of your head speaks louder than the cracking thunder outside.
sweet nothings are whispered into your ears through his hands in hopes of them reaching to your heart and soul to distract you. his fingers plays with your hair, serving as a soothing balm to your inner turmoil. you can always lean on abs to feel safe.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ ROMANCE SAJA
the type to tease you as you flinch at the first loud crack of the firework. but at the second crack, he noticed the shiver. and in a flash, he holds your hands and looks down at you, asking if you're scared of loud noises. when you nod your head yes, romance's grip on your hands tightened.
you're at home, but there were people playing with fireworks outside, from another city, maybe. but it was loud. so very loud that you hid behind your boyfriend. and he told you that he's got you, with him pulling you ridiculously close on the couch in attempt to soothe you.
his hands are rubbing up and down your arms, pressing kisses onto your temples. of course, he can't stop saying how cute you looked trembling about fireworks and technically melting into his skin at how close you are. it helps to distract you, making him laugh softly even as he wiped little tears that formed at the corner of your eyes. poor you.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ BABY SAJA
absolutely confused at what to do first. doesn't even know what to do to those who fears the natural cries of the skies. it's a heavy thunderstorm, pouring outside, while baby comically covers your ears in an attempt to calm you down. but it's futile, even when he holds your face.
when you're still shaking from the fear of the lightning cracking outside, he squished your cheeks beneath his palms to make you look at him. "you're gonna be fine," he told you before his thumbs moved to pinched your cheeks lightly. how strange, the little pain seemed to help redirect your focus from the storm outside to him.
he puts his earphones on your head, over your ears, in hopes of blocking out the noise. soda pop fills your ears and it works wonders because the device over your ears were some high-end, high-tech headphones that magically cancels out even the most terrifying sounds of nature's anger. baby saw the change in your expression, and he pokes your nose to lighten the mood up. then pressed a kiss onto it.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ MYSTERY SAJA
clings to you instead of you clinging to him. mystery knows you're terrified of fireworks. so whenever there was a festival and he's with you, he gets all super protective and tries his hardest to block out the loud noise so you won't be scared.
it's actually funny how he'd use himself as a human shield as if the fireworks is going to rain down on you and it's his last job on earth to protect his sweet baby. mystery lays on you—your chest, stomach, your shoulder, anywhere he could keep close to you and just... hold you. tightly. in complete silence.
with such nonchalance could he always make you feel calm in his presence. it feels as if his calmness is eating your fear away every single time by the way he just holds you so tightly you feel like he's going to consume you body and soul with his legs wrapped around your waist. strangely enough, he never thought about covering your ears. which kind of just rushes past your mind when he's holding you so tightly.
notes. it's... quite bad? idek what im writing im so sorry 😭 also this is kinda ironic bc some places are having summer festivals rn and some places are raining thunderstorms
content. chapter one includes horror themes, thus a small mention of blood and the hunger for money. 600+ words.
the memory lives within your mind as clear as the sky of the dawn. how had it all come down to this? it still confuses you—body, soul, and mind.
it was nearly midnight, overtime again. but with your apartment three months overdue and debt collectors breathing down your neck, you had no choice.
all this because you once thought a little luxury wouldn’t hurt.
you were so intoxicated by the scent of money and blinded by the riches that marked you like an aristocrat from the victorian era.
the streets were quiet as you walked home, quite lost in the thought of a call you received earlier by a debt collector. you decided then and there that you wanted to waste a little more of this quiet night's time.
so instead of going through the main streets, you decided that cutting through that one old bridge people said was haunted was more suitable for your depressing night. it fits. such a perfect bridge for you to walk through and drown in your faults that weighed heavy.
upon walking through and ignoring the creaks and cracks beneath the soles of your shoes, that’s when you saw it—an oversized red envelope lying alone near the edge.
what a strange thing to be on a bridge that might fall any time the more you think about your unpaid debts.
it was a scary and unhinged bridge.
you picked up the envelope after turning on the flashlight of your phone. inside was a wad of crisp bills—enough to erase your debt, and definitely more than you could count, which is equivalent to a new life of luxury.
scratch that.
you can’t afford another depressing situation and millions of annoying men trying to choke you in your sleep while demanding your debts. but oh, what a tempting envelope this is.
besides the colour and offer being tempting... there were strands of black hair, odd charms, and a faded photo of an attractive young man in a hanbok.
how truly strange. the amount of money seemed to shine brighter than these morbid assets, the smell so enticing that it creates a fog of greed in your mind.
but hey, money was money.
you looked around the creepy and supposedly haunted bridge, stuffed the cash into your bag, and left the rest of the weird things behind. life should be easy for you now.
in fact, it did turned easy. because several days later, your life is golden. debts gone, refrigerator full, even plenty more to mindlessly spend the money on. ecstasy filled your life as you revelled in it.
then one night, a broken storm came. rain slammed your windows. lightning flashed. power cut. you lit your way with your phone’s flashlight—until you noticed a strange message scrawled on the window:
보고 싶었어요, 아내.
i missed you, wife.
wife?
your body went cold. it was written in red—blood red. the substance dripped down your window like a message from the dead, painting your window a horror scene.
you tried to ignore the unseen terror slowly creeping up your neck like hundreds of spiders making their way into your hair. the switch is flipped on, and the lights come back on.
yet something was... off.
so very off.
“i’ve come for you.”
a voice cut through your maelstrom of emotions and you turned around slowly.
there, right behind you, stood a pale man in a a dark shaded hanbok—like something worn at a traditional wedding decades ago. you looked at him, and a flicker of recognition flashed in your face. this man’s face was eerily identical to the man in the photo from the envelope a few nights ago.
fear swallowed you whole, causing you to faint and fall before you could even open your mouth to scream.
jinu quickly caught you, staring down at your limp form, visibly confused.
“do i... smell bad?” he murmured, frowning slightly. he had crossed realms to see you, his beloved wife, only for you to pass out before saying a single word.
then, he glanced at the mirror hanging on your hallway nearby. right. there was nothing. jinu had forgotten. he died four centuries ago. and now he roams the earth as a husband of a ghost.
jinu set you down on the floor of your house, kneeling beside you. “hey,” his said softly and gently patted your cheek.
ABOUT . . . in which, you are broke. and strangely enough, you have just unknowingly married a rich man from the past. will wealth, or the handsome spirit man kiss you?
featuring. ghost¡jinu saja × female¡reader.
contents. sfw. slow-burn romance comedy, korean traditions, occasional profanities ( in korean ) , mentions of blood and death themes, angst, suggestive themes ( only a pinch ) does not follow the original kpdh plot. kpdh mlist. status: ongoing.
ᝰ SYNOPSIS . . . the insatiable lust to murder is not present nor does it coexist with other living beings. it's simply nowhere to be found.
ᝰ CONTENTS . . . mentions of blood, minor religious themes ( ideas of sins ), blade against skin, and utterly bittersweet romance. wc of 1200+ series masterlist.
A THOUSAND APOLOGIES FLOWS FROM THE BLADES OF THE CURSED. as if their fates are intertwined in a magically devastating way, both hold the hilt of their swords, standing across each other where their paths do not seem to be sewn together.
you, an honourable mage in all of japan, was given the order to annihilate a ruthless assassin, touya todoroki, who runs around spreading his curse everywhere.
it’s an official order by the shogun himself, the man who rules the entirety of the eastern country. how could you deny the most powerful man in the law? you’re a mage of prestige whom he definitely took notice of and have you positioned to be the executing the most dangerous threat coming from the unnatural.
assassin dabi is unnatural, apparently.
his eyes held something in them, something you haven’t seen before. and in that moment, you’re so sure that he has absolutely no desire to plunge his bloodstained blade right through your skin, even if you initiated the first attack and scarred his skin with a bit of your offensive spell.
the snow beneath your feet crunched, some parts of it being buried under the droplets of blood from touya’s blood, staining it cold red.
they’re in the same garden as always, blades held up against each other, gaze indifferent. and gosh, does it pain the man to see the grief that is being reflected in those beautiful eyes of yours.
“dabi, kill me,” you finally said in a soft whisper, lowering your magic-imbued blade as his eyes widened at your words.
“have you gone mad?” asked the man as he gripped the hilt of his sword even tighter—he could feel his own bones cracking at the force and pressure upon his tainted soul. “i’m not killing you.”
“you have to!” your voice plunged an entire army worthy of blades through his chest and it hurts, oh, does it hurt when it is not supposed to.
“one of us has to die, you know that,” you continued, stepping closer, invading the comfortable space that dabi had so carefully crafted during the months he had spent with you in this garden.
“we are both destined to die by each other’s hands,” you continued, dropping your sword like a fool who does not know what danger is. “it is fate, dabi. your master telling you to end my life, and the shogun telling me to end yours.”
“y/n, stay back,” the man whispered under his breath, feeling a slight force on his blade just as you pressed your upper chest against the tip of his blade.
unmovingly do you maintain a fearful distance, the tip of his blade barely seeping through the exposed skin of your robe. touya could see the flickers of terror dancing in the orbit of your eye, and it instills a kind of horror in him which he has never felt before.
what kind of fear is this? why did seeing the speck of blood making a debut on your skin made his breath hitched? his composure is faltering, and he knows, he knows that you know.
the everlastingly feared touya todoroki who carries the name of dabi throughout the nations and regions, feared by the world, is not feeling fear?
this is not right.
blood on your skin aroused something in him, something not so sinister as the usual lust he feels for the sight of blood. this caused touya to recoil, his sword lowered from your skin as if it burns his own skin. his gaze took in the sight of your collarbone before his fingers loosened around the hilt of his sword.
in a matter of seconds, wrath whispered into his ears, offering up prayers of seduction to imbue his anger towards you. and he listened—he listened to the whispers of his own maelstrom of emotions to grab you by your throat, fingers digging into your skin just as his pure strength has you thrown onto the ground like a ragdoll.
you gasped, feeling your back hit the lush and soft grass beneath you while touya’s fingers enclosed around your throat, blocking your airway. you may have gasped or struggled against his hold, but you never moved to pluck his grasp on you.
your fingers dug into the grass which sucked out both touya and your sins away overtime, feeling the weight of it beneath the soils. it was the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment where your eyes locked onto his teal gaze.
assassin dabi held the gaze of an angry man, filled with nothing but wrath and the only intent to kill.
from the grass, your gentle fingers cupped his cheeks, palm planting a sense of reality through his skin. even amidst the anger, you could still see the little memories that drowned in his teal eyes as they cried out to you. you could hear him calling your name simply just by looking at his eyes and it made the corner of your lips curved upwards in compassion.
“my precious touya,” you whispered through the struggle and the hold of his hands on your neck, deliberately choking you.
dabi’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, fully bringing him back to reality where the seductive whispers of his unspoken wrath disintegrated into the ground of the sinner’s garden. his hold on you loosened—if not, completely freed.
immediately, his hands which were so rough against your skin a few seconds ago, thumb sternly rubbed against your own cheek, quickly scooping you up into a tight embrace.
“i’m so sorry, i—i don’t know what the hell—”
“no the hell it’s not!” touya exclaims, sinking into your touch, melting in your warm and comforting embrace. “i don’t want to kill you, please, y/n. i can’t do it.”
you silenced him with a small sound that emitted from the depths of your throat, arms reciprocating his gesture to hold him tightly.
“it’s okay.”
to have the stone-cold assassin on the ground of an enchanted garden, holding a woman who shares an oddly similar fate to him would be such a strange sight to the outside world.
but not to the soils of the garden. not to the crickets and insects that reside here, not to the flowers and plants that colours the garden as it is, and definitely not to the moon who always watches after these two melancholic souls seeking solace in each other.
the swords not forgotten and seeping into the grass, unseen by the world outside of this garden. all you did with touya was hold him until you felt as if your body, soul, and mind was merging with him.
in pure silence, every myriad of emotions that ran through your souls had ceased to exist. it was like the garden itself had sucked away all that was unseen and hurt each of you.
after some time, the man shifted, his mouth finding a spot in your hair to place a chaste kiss. then, he inhales all of you, taking in the natural scent of your hair and marvelling at how good it smells under his nostrils.
his comfort scent is you—every time you rested your head on his shoulders during your nights in this garden is his favourite moment spent with you.
you breathed out, just so he could breathe you in.
the insatiable lust to murder is not present nor does it coexist with other living beings. it’s simply nowhere to be found.
oh, how the garden of sinners have consumed their sins. and how you’ve become everything to his nothing.
Hello, I love your work, I was wondering if I could request huntrix x reader or saja boys x reader finding out their s/o also happens to be in a band, but didn’t say anything due to the music they make. (The specific type I’m thinking would be songs like Rotten by set it off or killer by Kaneda7)
Thank you so much 🖤
ROTTEN KILLER ──── kpop demon hunter¡ various.
featuring. saja boys, huntrix, and gn¡ reader.
note. anon, first of all. THX FOR PUTTING ME ON. THESE ARE FIRE MUSIC. i love rotten so much ueegehhej. rotten for the saja boys, and killer for the huntrix girls.
ROTTEN ／ ROCK BAND ──── SAJA BOYS
that one time JINU saw you on the billboard with five other people and a band name plastered at the center perfectly edited to fit the band's theme, he swore his eyes popped out of his sockets. because, what in the world is his sweetheart doing in the middle of the group picture, standing tall and proud amongst people who plays rock for a living? quite literally shock, but nonetheless proud. because damn, he loves your band's music (he just doesn't care about the people in the band and ONLY listens to the music)
ABBY doesn't react any differently. he's with jinu on a casual stroll and his footsteps ceased when he saw that his very own lover is also on the billboard? as the bassist?? he could recognise jinu's sweetheart, holding a mic, but his very own beloved?? he's so confused, leading him to shoot the saja boy's leader a weird glance. "is that really them?" he asks jinu as if he didn't see the choker he's got you, which you're wearing in the billboard picture.
when jinu and abs returned to the underworld, they found ROMANCE gambling with the other demons, obviously pleased with the piles of paper offerings. when abs showed the man a picture of the rock band on the billboard, romance snatched the phone and zoomed into the picture of you. "what the..." he'd trail off, staring at the picture of you holding up your drumstick. "i know they play drums but in a rock band, seriously?!" shocked first, but proudly smirks and acclaims "yeah, that's my baby. they're awesome."
speaking of BABY, his head perked up from the hammock he was lounging on. he'd ask what the other guys are talking about then lazily walked over to them to take a peek at the screen. a smile spreads across his face. "you guys are soooo outdated. did you see them?" he points at you. "they're the electric guitarist of the band," baby smirks and acts smug at the boys because he's obviously the only one who knows you're in a band serving as the cool e-guitarist...
somewhere in the underworld however, there's MYSTERY, already watching your band's music videos. he'd only replay the parts where you're backing up the vocals and hitting your fingers on the key to provide rhythm to the music. he sighs dreamily, taking hundred and thousands of screenshots of your screen time only. he doesn't know the commotion of the other saja boys. he's perfectly content with watching you on his phone screen, providing comfort in this underworld.
KILLER ／ ELECTRONIC BAND ──── HUNTRIX
who would've thought RUMI'S lover makes such dreamy music with their friends? it may just be a small group who began posting their debut music on soundcloud but damn, does rumi love the beats and dreamy vibes her lover's band makes. it felt like those nights spent with her lover just dancing to each other's songs. little does rumi know, your band sometimes goes around the world like an idol group to perform your music, dancing or simply making cool beats. but hey, everything is a surprise to rumi these days.
it was strange for MIRA to find you in a rave party, being a dj and making music on the spot in which she recognised was close to a specific band's music. the more she listens and the more she dances to the music, the more it came to light that the music played were indeed an electronic band's music. and mira is shocked to find out that you lead the group. instead of confronting you about it, she cheered you on and toasted to you right after the rave. then she screams "HECK YEAAAHH! THAT'S MY COOL BABY RIGHT THERE!"
ZOEY kind of knew you were in a band, since you told her that you make music. in fact, she's the who showed rumi and zoey the official instagram pictures of you and your bandmates. strangely enough, their lovers are in the same band too. so it doesn't make anything worse. zoey is your ultimate fan, having posters and album covers all over her walls and drawing silly hearts on your face. so in love with you and your band's works. also posts tiktoks to your music.
I have no idea if requests are open or not so forgive me if they’re closed but could I request like making out with the Saja boys and how that would go? If that’s too much then putting makeup on them🙏🙏
LIPS HIPS KISS ─── saja boys. suggestive. gn¡reader.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ JINU SAJA
making out with jinu feels like the end of the world. he's a good kisser. why wouldn't he be when he's at least four centuries old? he's had his fair share of experiences that he has learned from. soft lips, smooth skin, tantalising eyes. and his magical hands that has you melting beneath his touch.
jinu holds your face, the back of your neck, or wherever that he could keep you locked in your spot with absolutely no where to run. his lips moved against yours so softly at first— testing the waters. but when you reciprocated, it gets bolder and heated until he could feel both your bodies growing hot, pushing you so close to him you could feel his chest against yours and the growing arousal from below.
he's the type to make out with you after the mood is set, or whenever he needs reassurance. french kisses seemed to be his favourite. he loves the way your lips perfectly moulds against his. kisses like these often leads to comforting cuddles, not very often does it progress into something more heated. he likes keeping it romantic. but when it does get heated, his hands will be under your shirt or beneath your waistband by now.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ ABBY SAJA
likes your hand all over his chest when you two make out. it's common to hold onto something to keep the connection going, isn't it? so he always wants your hand on him, roaming all over and feeling his muscles hardening under your touch. it sends fire straight to his core, making him breathe so very heavily into you.
abby heavily fancies rough kisses. ones where it's dominating, controlling, and guiding. this man leads every kiss and every single initiation. he wants to execute, not feel. never much of a feeler. abby only seek to please you and make you feel good. his kisses are a simple start.
while your hands are all over his chest, his hands in return are all over your hips and waist and under your shirt. touching and feeling your skin, simply by brushing his thumb against your hips is enough for him. abby will also make out with you literally anywhere. the underworld if you're a demon, social meetings, meet and greets, at the back lane, anywhere. he could never get enough of the taste of your sweet lips.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ ROMANCE SAJA
make outs with romance always end up with his hands on your hips, guiding you to rock your hips against him. no kidding. no shit. no lies. his heavy breathing and the way he holds the back of your head contains a lot of affection, and you can tell by the way he always starts off cheesy and romantic.
but oh, how silly of you to think that sweet kisses couldn't develop into something such as grinding against the obvious arousal in his pants while you feel your own arousal build up. he's a big tease with it. always getting you all hot and bothered but never doing more than that. you know you get him all worked up as well. besides getting aroused sexually, you annoyance from the teasing also gets aroused.
that's okay though. romance likes it when you're all angry and taking control instead when he's became your thirteenth reason in this push and pull. if i hadn't made it obvious yet, he likes you sitting on his lap and looking up at you with that stupid smirk and devilishly handsome face. he's also the type to also nip at your bottom lip.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ BABY SAJA
super big fan of brushing your bottom lip before kissing you or even in the middle of kissing. that was your foreplay before sex, if we're speaking through incoherent metaphors. he finds your lips absolutely pleasing to touch or simply kiss. and suck. oh, how much he adores sucking and then licking your bottom lips. only bottom by the way.
baby is the type of man who wants to taste your whole mouth as if they're potent enough to cover the taste of spicy sauces. exploring your mouth is a normal thing when you make out with him, his hands cradling your cheek just as his thumb gently brushes against your lips.
often times tongues are involved, so there weren't any exceptions. in fact, tongues are a must. you can't even tell if he's teasing you or not. but it makes the kiss heated and to die for. after several minutes of making out, baby yearns to leave his marks on the skin of your neck. he goes down your collarbone, your chest, and your lower abdomen until he reaches his favourite place to kiss.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ MYSTERY SAJA
loud, noisy, and absolutely pathetic. not in a bad way, in a good way to signify to you that he enjoys making out with you. like the rest, mystery will heavily breath into you as he kisses you. only this time with him, this man will emit sounds from the depths of his throat which you swallow.
he whimpers when you touch him, whines when you pull away for air, moans when he himself gets rougher with the kisses. he's so touchy and needs you to touch and hold him. which shocks you, because mystery is so quiet that the thought of him being noisy during heated moments such as these could happen. not that you're complaining though.
him being a yearner makes you feel like a wobbly jelly. maybe even because you get to lead the kiss and do whatever you want to him. he's the type to crumble under one touch from you and become the pillow princess. you have mystery wrapped in your fingers and. he loves being in your chokehold. you might get a few bit marks on your lips with his much mystery digs his teeth into your lips by mistake and pure excitement though.
note. oops i went overboard with this one uhh yay! this one's for you, @skriblobz, happy early wedding day to you and rafayel LMFAOOO
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