#mc girl i could never hate you

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

I agree with your points, and want to expand on the "the LIs are perfect boys" point further, because that is what bothers me the most personally. This a bit long, so I'm not expecting many to wade through it, and also sorry for piggybacking off your post ❤️

The LIs are decidedly not perfect. They all have their own weaknesses, which are at their core very realistic despite being dressed up in sci-fi/fantasy circumstances. Their lives have been moulded by so much trauma, both remembered and not, and it would be unrealistic for them to NOT be flawed in some ways. And I know people recognize those traumas and rightfully sympathise/emphatise with them. How could we not when we witness all of it first hand?

Thing is, MC too is traumatised. Firstly she was fucking TORTURED FROM EARLY CHILDHOOD in this timeline. Secondly, her not remembering her past lives with the LIs is not only a source of angst for the boys, but a major plotpoint that provides absolutely crucial context for the LIs actions.

Just think about her first encounter with Sylus from her canon POV: she goes onto a highly dangerous mission because she sees no other choice if she wants to discover the truth. She is drugged, kidnapped, threatened with violence, then her kidnapper is poofed out of existence by the leader of the biggest criminal organisation in the area. A man so powerful regular weapons do not harm him. Hell, he *makes her shoot him through the heart* while his Aether core messes with her head. Oh, and he imprisons her for days. He is the first LI with whom her Resonance doesn't work because she is so scared and disgusted by him, and in that time and place I'd say rightly so! Is it absolutely heartbreaking now that we the players know their past? Yes! Does it make the situation any less traumatic for her? No!

Or how about Rafayel stalking her for years? I personally can't wait for the moment when that is revealed to her in the present timeline. I absolutely understand his desperation, the way he must have racked his brain trying to come up with a reason to approach her. And I do think if MC finds out about it after/if she learns about their past, she too will understand. But that doesn't make it okay in the slightest. And don't even get me started on Caleb! In fact all of them are guilty of stalking her, except maybe Zayne, and I can't quite believe how many people in the fandom just gloss over that. It's completely fine to like red flag/dark romances, but I don't think it needs to be said that stalking is not healthy behavior in any circumstances.

MC is flawed, yes. Especially in the earlier cards she can be rude or too blunt, and even I think she takes her mistrust of Sylus a bit too far sometimes. She is also rash and sometimes childish. But if we are able to forgive the LIs flaws because of their trauma and their past, can recognize that they ultimately just want the best for MC, then surely we can give her the same courtesy?

Throughout all of her lives she has been shown to be kind, courteous and dutiful. The Sorceress doesn't succumb to blind rage and revenge, The Castellan and The Queen continue to serve their people to the end. She shows people who have wronged her way more patience and understanding than I ever could. And in the current timeline she became a Hunter precisely to overcome her own fears, despite her congenital heart disease. That takes some serious character!

Throughout the current timeline she slowly but surely works together with the LIs to built trust in the relationships, to finetune the specific dynamics she has with all of them, like becoming more attentive with Rafayel, more trusting with Sylus, more assertive and confident with Xavier. Especially in Feverish Attempts and now the new Promise 4* I was actively cheering for her when she got mad at Xavier for hiding things from her. She is strong, mentally and physically, and wants to care for the boys as they care for her. I could never fault her for that, and honestly it's sad if people read all of the story available to them and STILL come out of this thinking that she sucks as a character or doesn't deserve the LIs.

If you made it this far, thank you and sorry for the rant 😆

it’s totally fine that you don’t want mc haters to interact with your blog! I love her too…But I’m confused as to why you called the interaction toxic. If you and I were reading the same post, same comments, I mostly got the vibe that people were conversing civilly and bringing up points that were valid. Certain parts of MC just bother them and I think it’s a lot better to have that kind of conversation criticizing a game you play rather than the hostility I’ve seen against non-mc writers sometimes (not that you are one).

I agree it was a really negative post, but it wasn’t bad. People seemed to have found each others’ similar interests and decided to stay away from blogs they disagree with like your new warning.

I also hope we can have a non-toxic community but that includes being able to discuss these kinds of things without trying to shame anyone. Again, not that you are (By the way if we’re not talking about the same post then please just take me as a random observer giving their two cents! Don’t mind me! Thanks)

hello, welcome! i apologise if this is the first impression i made. i usually keep such opinions to myself because the fandom has enough discourses as it is, and i thought i didn't want to contribute more to the disagreements.

i think we were indeed reading the same post. i found it while i was searching for sylus x reader tag, and unfortunately it popped up first to the latest category.

there were many points of which i disagreed. it was a negative post that made me frown, and if you know the hate train that's been happening on the female characters of love and deepspace, at some point it gets tiring to see.

mc is you, you are mc. i understand if people think of her as a different entity (that's totally okay!), but at the same time you are the one who created her, and in creative spaces such as tumblr and ao3, you are also the one to appoint her with a personality type.

the game itself is a sci-fi fantasy romance otome game, it is not meant to be realistic. these men utter your name in the game (assuming you put your name/nickname in the player placeholder). by default, they are yours and you are theirs.

we get to become hunters, sorceresses, dragonesses, brides to the sea god, queens, princesses, metaloenergetic humans (i just made this word up idk), or have weird powers that attract trouble and causes us to get exiled by village nobodies.

the thing i absolutely found weird is how the men (xavier, rafayel, zayne, sylus, caleb) were praised above and beyond. how mc is called a mary sue for having them love her but no, the male characters are absolutely perfect in every single way. this is not specifically about the post either, it's how the fandom treats it's female characters and find nothing wrong about the reasons they give to hate a: character-insert who is meant to be the embodiment of yourself, your aunt-in-law, and even your coworker and best friend.

now the most common excuses of all: she doesn't treat the love interests right. she is not complex. she is too complex. she is a celestial being. she doesn't have a personality. she has too much personality.

on another note: i don't have anything against non-mc readers, i read them myself and i enjoy them as much as the next person. the only thing i don't like is how misogynistic terms such as pick-me comes out from girlies that i never expected to come.

so i guess the post was never meant for me, because i love the stories and how we were inserted into them. as for the "people were conversing civilly" i will let the comments of said post speak for themselves. "These good boys deserve so much better than a pretty-faced void."

i will not proceed any further, you are free to ask again if you want! i will of course reply as fast as i am able to. that was mainly for the exclusive non-mc consumers who view mc as a whole different entity and believe the love interests won't choose them and villainise the mc because of it.

i hope i didn't come off too strong. as a mc fan, and as someone who just hates disliking female characters (i have been in too many fanwars over sakura haruno, katara, korra, elena gilbert, bella swan, you name it), it got me bothered.

i'm sorry.

[celestiachan]

raise your hand if you're tired of every protagonist being a high schooler that gets bullied by blonde people with californian accents

[a-casxandra]

❝𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.❞ part 2

Caleb as your boyfriend x you (non-mc), birthday angst.

𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗯'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

Caleb had never noticed it before—not really.

The way your smile never quite reached your eyes these days. The way your fingers fidgeted in your lap when MC leaned a little too close. The way Gideon looked at you with something that resembled… pity.

He thought things were fine. You never complained. You were always understanding. Supportive. Gentle. So he convinced himself you were okay.

That night at the club, he hadn’t thought twice about offering MC his jacket. She was cold, drunk. He didn’t even see your bare arms shivering just inches away. Didn’t notice the way your lips pressed into a tight line when MC clung to him in her usual, tipsy way.

Didn’t realize how wrong it all looked—until much, much later.

It wasn’t until he saw Gideon hand you his jacket, and you hesitated, almost embarrassed, that something in his chest stirred. A flicker. Just a flicker.

He should’ve checked in.

But MC laughed, and his attention shifted again. It always did.

Caleb had always thought love would be obvious.

Loud. Chaotic. Unavoidable. Like the kind he saw in movies, or felt years ago, when he was young and stupid and MC was the girl next door with a crooked smile and dreams bigger than both of them.

But maybe that was the problem.

He didn’t realize love could also be quiet.

Like someone sitting on his right side all night.

Someone who didn’t need to speak to be loud.

Someone who didn’t cry even when he deserved to be yelled at.

He didn’t realize until you were gone.

Caleb noticed your silence the morning after his birthday.

No good morning kiss. No breakfast for two. No light footsteps moving through the kitchen.

Just... silence. The kind that made his chest tight.

He walked into the living room. Your phone was gone. So was your jacket. The dress from last night? Folded neatly on the chair.

His heart sank.

A note sat on the table, your handwriting small, almost apologetic.

> “Happy birthday again. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye in person. Take care of MC. She needs you.”

He read it twice. Then again. And again.

Then he said your name out loud, like maybe if he spoke it enough, you’d answer.

You didn’t.

Day 2.

He texted.

No reply.

Day 3.

Called. Straight to voicemail.

Day 5.

He showed up at your workplace. Your co-worker said you took leave. “Needed space,” was all they offered.

Day 7.

Gideon found him sitting on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by takeout containers and empty glasses. “You look like hell,” Gideon said, pulling him up by the arm.

“I think she’s gone,” Caleb croaked. “For real this time.”

Gideon didn’t say I told you so. But the look in his eyes said everything. “You hurt her, man. You didn’t even notice. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but damn, Caleb… the way you looked at MC that night? You should’ve seen yourself.”

Caleb ran a hand through his hair, chest aching. “She’s just my childhood friend.”

“No,” Gideon said, dead serious. “She was your future. And you treated her like a seat-filler.”

One week later, Caleb finally found you.

You were at the park, sitting alone on a bench with a takeaway coffee cup in hand, face tilted toward the pale sun. You looked peaceful.

And he hated himself for wanting to disturb that peace.

Caleb stood there for a moment, just watching. Then took a slow step forward.

You noticed him before he could say your name. “I thought you’d be with MC.” Your voice wasn’t bitter. Just… tired.

Caleb winced. “She’s not the one I want to be with.”

Silence.

“I was stupid,” he continued, swallowing down the guilt. “I didn’t see what I was doing until you left.”

“No,” you said, calmly. “You saw. You just didn’t care until I finally walked away.”

Caleb froze. Because you were right.

And it hurt. Because he deserved it.

“You looked at her like she was the only one in the room,” you whispered. “And I was there the whole time, Caleb. I was there.”

He stepped closer, voice raw. “You have every right to hate me. But I—God, I miss you. I miss us. I’d do anything to fix it. Anything.”

You looked at him then. Eyes glassy, but steady. “And if MC called you drunk again tonight?" Your words were like a dagger. “If she needed you again? Would you leave me in the backseat again?”

“…No,” he whispered. “Not anymore.”

You nodded slowly, letting his answer hang in the air like fog. Then you stood, brushing off your coat. “I don’t want to be your second choice, Caleb. Not anymore. I loved you enough to accept crumbs. I loved you enough to believe your silence meant safety. But I love myself more now.”

His hands trembled, he didn't think twice as he sank down on his knees, kneeling infront of you. “Please. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you—”

But you shook your head. “I don’t want you to make it up to me. I just want you to feel it.”

And with one last look, you turned and walked away.

Caleb kneeled there long after you disappeared, clenching his fist, throat burning.

And for the first time in years, Caleb finally understood:

𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝗛𝗲’𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

soo here's caleb with my mc! (●'◡'●)

[that-one-girl2020]

Role Reversal Pt. 1

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Okay, I decided to turn my headcanons into a short series so here’s the first part! I plan to post two times a day every other day so I can update any short series I’m working on while also doing your guys’ requests. You don’t need to have read my other short series for this to make sense.

The Tag List will also be starting fresh so first fifty people who ask to be on the tag list will be tagged in the future parts!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the songs or characters except the MC and their effect on the plot.

Synopsis: What if Huntr/x was the demon group and the Saja Boys were the demon Hunters? What if Rumi had a twin sister that she left behind for her own desires? What if the Saja Boys’ attention was caught by a certain demoness?

Word Count: 4,620

Master List || Part 2>>

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

‘What a dreary existence…’ You couldn’t help but think to yourself. You were sat beneath the husk of a tree, a cruel reflection of something you would do when you were human. Arson, your fire dog, sat at your side while Sprite, your three legged crow, was pitched in the sparse, crumbling branches of the tree.

Centuries had passed by at a torturous pace and the Hunters’ Honmoon was on the verge of being sealed. No more secret trips into the human world for you.

Your only reprieve had been the small trips you had snuck to the human world, watching time progress and the humans go about their days. But that would be no more soon.

Footsteps approached you, the dry earth crunching beneath boots. A fellow nine-tailed fox demon. There were only a few, rare as they were due to the circumstances needed for them to be made. So you already knew who it was without looking up from your petting of Arson.

“Sister.”

Rumi stopped a few feet away from you. The two of you were never far apart, you usually remained in her relative vicinity even if you rarely spoke to each other. Your sister had betrayed you so easily when the two of you were human but she was the only familiarity in this world.

“(Y/n). I have a proposition for you.”

You didn’t spare her a look. “I’m listening.”

“The Honmoon is close to being sealed. Gwi Ma is getting desperate in his starvation. I plan to make a deal with him.”

You looked up sharply at her, “A deal with Gwi Ma? Haven’t you learned anything from the last deal you made with him?”

Rumi frowned. The last deal she had made with the demon tyrant was what led to her being where she was now. Wearing the same black dress robes as you, her skin a purple tint, her eyes glowing amber, fangs glinting in the dim light, tails poised behind her, claws sharp, and her patterns glowed an eerie purple at the edges, like yours did.

“This is different. In order to beat the Hunters, we have to go after what fuels the Honmoon, the fans. So if we create a group and steal their fans, the Honmoon will start crumbling. In return for doing this, Gwi Ma will have to let us remain in the human world,” Rumi explained her plan to you.

Rumi was trying to run away again, you could tell. From her demon side. Just like when the two of you were human and hated by your village.

“And I’m assuming that Mira and Zoey are in on your little plan?” You checked, slowly petting Arson’s fur to soothe your rising anxiety. The two mentioned girls teleported into sight and you appreciated their dramatics, nodding at them. “Ah, yes, hello.” Mira and Zoey were also nine-tailed fox demons.

“Mira’s been studying modern dancing and Zoey’s been working on lyrics. We don’t need you to do this so if you don’t want to then fine. Stay here and rot,” Rumi told you coldly and you couldn’t help how your chest twisted at her bitter words.

You didn’t like it. You haven’t sung or danced in centuries, not since you were still human. It had been something sacred to you, something you loved and did for yourself. To use your voice to help Gwi Ma? It felt wrong. But you didn’t want to be left behind again.

“Fine,” You agreed resolutely. “What do you need me to do?”

~~~

Jinu sighed as he stood before the mannequin holding his new outfit. The five of them had had another successful concert—despite the demons that had hijacked their private plane. In fact, it was so successful that he had seen a glimmer of gold in the Honmoon as they performed. They were nearly there, they had just needed a little push.

So he had launched the release of the song they had been sitting on for over a year. ‘Stay Gold.’ It was a slower song than their usual music but it followed their theme of supporting their fans.

The MV had skyrocketed, soaring past the numbers for their most popular song, ‘Soda Pop,’ easily. They had scheduled their first live performance of ‘Stay Gold’ but when they had been rehearsing, everyone kept fumbling.

Jinu’s voice cracked from stress—the time of the month where he usually sent money home was coming up and it was bringing up bad memories. Kwan stumbled on the choreo. Hyeon kept missing his cues. Jum’s tongue got twisted when he rapped, Chungae kept stress checking his phone.

They were all stressed. It seemed that as their goal got within sight—the golden Honmoon being sealed—the pressure increased on their shoulders, making them stumble.

Despite all the fans rioting out front of the building, Bobby had insisted that the five boys take a day off and go home back to the tower.

Jinu sighed once more and then turned to go back up to the living area, where the other four were despondently sprawled in different states.

Chungae was laid across the whole couch somehow, Kwan on the ground next to him. Hyeon was curled up, arms around his knees and laying on his side in a recliner with his head on the armrest. And Jum was laying on his stomach on the coffee table like a log, his legs hanging off the edge.

“Guys…” Jinu shook his head at his friends—brothers was a more apt description. “Yeah, we’ve all been… stressed about the Honmoon being sealed but we should try and take this time to relax so we can do better.”

Kwan groaned, still kicking himself over stumbling over his own choreography. It was simple choreo for a slower paced song. That he had put together himself. And he had messed it up. “Can’t relax until the Honmoon is sealed…”

Hyeon nodded. He was so stressed that he couldn’t come up with any new music. Usually, it was easy for him to create melodies and beats for the others to form lyrics around or vice versa, but his inspiration has been bone dry lately.

“But the Honmoon won’t get sealed if we keep fucking up because we’re stressed,” Jum mused. For once, the group didn’t chide the maknae for his cursing. Jum, their resident rap genius who always helped Jinu with lyrics for their songs, had been cranky lately. It was harder for him to put his feelings into words like he usually did.

Chungae groaned at Jum’s words, knowing that they were true, creating an endless cycle. Chungae stress checked his phone, reading through a social media tag. The comments from fans usually made him feel better but it just felt like more pressure to be perfect to him so he shut it off.

Jinu was right there with them. The end of the month was coming up, the time when he usually anonymously sent money home to his sister. It was a time that brought up a lot of memories and shame for him, not helping with the stress of sealing the Honmoon.

Still, he was the leader. So he tried his best to cheer them up. “How about we go out tomorrow? Maybe go to an arcade or just go out to eat? Something besides performing or the Honmoon.”

Hyeon perked up, looking up sharply, “Arcade?”

Kwan also perked up similarly, “Food?”

Jum also looked up at the prospect of going to play video games, even if they were just arcade games.

Chungae looked up, knowing he was outvoted. Besides, it would give him an opportunity to take some pictures to post on his socials. ��I’m in.”

Jinu smiled, “Cool, let’s all eat and try to get some rest. I ordered some takeout.”

At that moment, the elevator dinged as one of the employees brought the several bags of food up. The boys stood at attention as the smell of the food reached them.

“Fried chicken!” The boys scrambled over each other and the furniture as they tried to get to the food first. Jinu grinned, easily side stepping them as he took the bags from the employee with a polite bow before taking the bags to the tangle mass of limbs he called his brothers.

Everything was swiftly devoured by the five men.

~~~

You mindlessly pet Arson as you sat on a boulder by the gate to Gwi Ma’s mountain. One demon had escaped the latest attempt to kill the Hunters. But Gwi Ma had just reduced the demon to cinders.

Rumi’s laugh rang out over the crowd, bringing Gwi Ma’s tantrum to a halt. “The tyrant demon king. Once all powerful, now he’s brought to his knees by a few generations of performers…”

Rumi floated down from the gate, landing softly as the crowd of demons began to part, making way for her. You followed not far behind her, Arson trailing you, huffing out puffs of flames at some demons who got too close to you.

“And will he let the fire go out?~ Is this the end of him now?~ Dying king with a crumbling crown?~ Will he let the fire go out?” Rumi trilled, her voice echoing eerily over the silent crowd.

“I let you keep your voice, Rumi. And now you dare to mock me with it?” Gwi Ma demanded, his small flames flaring slightly in his agitation.

“Oh Gwi Ma,” Rumi cooed sweetly as you, Mira and Zoey gathered behind her. “I’m not here to mock you, I’m here to help you, get you the souls that you desperately need.”

Together, the four of you floated up Gwi Ma’s mountain to land before him. “Like Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the mountain, the same strategy has gotten you nowhere. I suggest fighting the Hunters where they’ll least expect it. Go after the thing that powers the Honmoon. The fans.”

On cue, the four of you posed dramatically. You couldn’t help but feel a bit silly doing this but if this was what Rumi wanted to do for her plan, you would do it for now.

“A demon girl group?” Gwi Ma voiced in disbelief. He suddenly roared with laughter, his flames growing brighter in his amusement as the demons below hesitantly copied his laughing. “What makes you think that could work?”

Rumi snapped her fingers and the four of you transformed, shifting into different poses. Mira’s tusks vanished with a turn of her head, showing off an ear of piercings. Zoey’s eyes sparkled as she looked up, her grin bright and eager. For blood or for fans, you didn’t know. And you flipped your hair, using your demon magic to make it shine and fall smoothly. A layer of your demon charm made your presence magnetic, drawing eyes to you easily.

You heard the demons below murmuring appreciatively in agreement that it would work.

“Okayyyy…” Gwi Ma drawled slowly. Unsure of what to make of the four of you. “I know you, Rumi. In four hundred years, you haven’t done a single thing that didn’t help yourself,” Gwi Ma hissed, filling Rumi’s mind with memories of long ago. Your tearful face flashed before her eyes as she grimaced. “What do you want.”

Rumi took a breath to steady herself from the onslaught of memories. “Let me remain in the human world when we are done. Glamour my patterns like you did before.”

You looked away. All this time, and she was still chasing the same things. And you knew that she would happily leave you behind again if she had to.

“Hmm,” Gwi Ma hummed. “And the others? Mira? Zoey? What do you want?”

Mira and Zoey shared a look before nodding in agreement. Together, they placed a hand on each of Rumi’s shoulders, “Let us stay with Rumi in the human world, wherever she goes,” Mira spoke for the two of them.

And then his attention turned to you. “And (Y/n)? What is it that you desire so much that you would follow your sister’s plan?”

You knew what he meant. Memories of Rumi leaving you behind flashed through your mind without Gwi Ma’s influence. Why follow the sister that had left you.

‘What did you want?’ And then other memories flashed through your mind that made your chest ache. A man long dead, raising a sword over his head to strike you down. You made a decision.

“I want them gone. The memories of my human life.”

Rumi couldn’t help but frown but she held herself back from protesting. That would mean that you would forget her as well. You would be strangers. But after what she did, maybe she deserved such a punishment.

Gwi Ma seemed to take delight in your desire. “Very well.”

The four of you left to begin Rumi’s plan.

~~~

The Saja Boys were oblivious to the numerous posters and fliers advertising a girl group debut around them. They were horseing around, pushing each other and actually laughing for once as they headed down an alley to a small hole-in-the-wall arcade. Arcades had dim lights that would help hide their identities but they still didn’t want to take a chance by going to a bigger arcade. Still, this one was popular enough that it had all the new games and plenty of others too.

They spent a few hours goofing around, Jum and Hyeon trumping them in almost all the games. It was nice to actually just spend time with each other without the pressure of their idol lifestyle.

They were leaving the arcade to go and find something for a late lunch, ribbing each other. Kwan was ruffling Jum’s hair teasingly, getting revenge for his loss in the shooting game they had played before leaving.

“Couldn’t let your hyung win, could ya you brat?” Kwan laughed and Jum tried to bat him away with a small smile.

“Be better next time then, hyung,” Jum joked with a smirk.

“Have to admit,” Chungae chimed, snapping a picture of the two roughhousing. “It was nice to have some time away from the fans.”

And of course, speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. They heard footsteps approaching the alley and they scrambled to fix their disguises into place with a cry of, “Fans!”

The five were trying to look normal, walking down the alley like normal people. Then three girls turned the corner, the sun shining behind them and something about them was drawing them in. The boy’s jaws kind of dropped at how beautiful they were.

The shortest was cute with two space buns, a big grin, and a little bounce in her step that didn’t match the other two’s. Her crop top showed off her tiny waist and midriff. It made Hyeon want to wrap his hands around her waist to see if his fingers would meet and pick her up.

The other had long pink hair that was half up in two pig-tails. She looked fiercer than the other two, a certain swagger to her step and violence in her eyes that dared you to come closer so she could snap you in half. And you would thank her in the end. Kwan and Chungae couldn’t help but want to tease her, make her angry just to see what her anger was like.

The third had the longest purple hair, flowing down in a long braid behind her. There was a faint shimmer of some kind of scars or something under makeup that covered her exposed skin but that just endeared her to Jinu. She seemed so achingly human, the flaws making her all that more eye catching.

And then the boys were blown away as a fourth girl rounded the corner behind the other three.

Oh boy…

The force of your beauty was almost a physical thing as it made the five boys almost stumble back a step. Your hair shone as you flicked it over your shoulder easily, Jum’s hood blowing back at your movement somehow. The air seemed to glow around you and Chungae could see hearts glowing around you as if they were physical things. Like the purple haired girl, there was a faint shimmer in some places on your skin, makeup covering up scars it seemed. For some reason, Jinu liked it better on you than the other girl. He wanted to wipe the makeup away to see what was underneath.

You were wearing clothes like the other girls, black and yellow with teal or pink accents if needed (Their outfits from the beginning, ‘How It’s Done’). You were wearing a yellow plaid skirt that was shorter in the front and long in the back with a black shirt that clung to your form. Silver chains decorated you. They wanted you to step on them so they could thank you.

A feral, primal part of Hyeon wanted to sink his teeth into your skin so he could see the pretty color it would turn. Kwan wanted to lift you into his arms, over his head just to see if he could and to feel the plush way your skin would feel under his touch. Jum wanted to know what you tasted like so you could become his new favorite flavor—spicy, sweet, salty, sour, what did you taste like. Chungae wanted to hear your voice, hear what it sounded like when you spoke, when you whispered, when you were angry. He wanted to make you his favorite song, what he listened to when he woke up and when he went to sleep and all the moments in between. Jinu’s head was suddenly full of words, lyrics and melodies devoted just to you and yet all the words in all the languages he knew felt like they fell short of describing you.

It was like you were walking in slow motion as you trailed after the other girls with a silent confidence that drew them to you like bees to honey. The boys had to swallow the drool pooling in their mouths at the sight of you.

As you were walking past them, your shoulder brushed against Jinu’s and it felt like he was suddenly flying as the force of it sent him spinning, his eyes locked on your indifferent expression while he felt like a flying potato. He lost his footing, falling backwards as you caught him with an arm under his back, dipping him back as he looked up at you, a hazy glow around you that had him mesmerized. He was not worthy…

And then you were pulled away and he dropped to the ground.

It was that purple haired girl, the two others flanking her sides as she held your wrist. “Watch yourself,” She told Jinu and then turned and pulled you along after her.

Jinu sputtered, “W-watch myself?” He echoed, sputtering. “You watch yourself!” He called after them. He stood, brushing himself off aggressively.

“Who does she think she is?” Kwan crossed his arms, raising a brow after the haughty girl.

“How rude,” Hyeon frowned, watching after them as they disappeared around the corner.

“Could’ve at least helped you up,” Chungae added, helping Jinu brush all the dirt off himself. He made a mental note to find that girl on social media and bring her down. And also find your social media.

Jum scowled, taking out a sucker to crunch down on to soothe his irritation. You were beautiful. Your friends? Could be better.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” The five froze to focus on their hearing. Sure enough, they heard the intro to a song begin, loud enough for them to hear it all the way from the alley. “Let’s go check it out.”

Peaking their heads around the corner one by one, they could see a weird cloud of pink smoke growing in the middle of the plaza of a busy area. The boys tugged their disguises into place further and put their game faces on to see what was going on as the music swelled around them.

“Baddest do what the baddest do (Hey)~ The baddest do (Hey), we the baddest, ooh~ Baddest do what the baddest do (Hey)~ The baddest do (Hey), we the baddest~”

And then those four girls from earlier appeared from the smoke, singing and dancing professionally—no stumbling or fumbling. The boys’ jaws dropped. “Their a girl group?!”

The purple haired girl seemed to take the main vocals.

“We're comin' at you live (Live), real, real wild~ Here to light it up, set the world on fire~ Gonna break rules and hearts in twos~ 'Cause that's what the baddest do~ Never goin' back, nah, not that~ Diamonds on drip 'cause I came to make a splash~ Gonna brеak rules and hearts in twos~ 'Cause that's what thе baddest do (Yeah, uh)~”

The boys watched as a crowd quickly gathered, cheering the four girls on and video taping them with their phones. A girl almost fainted when the pink haired girl winked at her. The boys had a bad feeling…

The shorter girl with the space buns started spitting lyrics with a manic ferocity that drew the crowd in closer as the girls dance, spinning around each other and hitting their choreo with a violent perfection that it was like they were going to war.

“I spit heat, I melt your face off~ Disappear, I’m your eraser (Yeah)~ In the cut just like a razor~ Murder business, where my blazer?~ I got all the boys on me~ I got all the lines on ring~ Knock 'em dead, turning heads~ I got all the eyes on me~”

The long, pink haired girl stepped up to the front, the lyrics matching her devilish smirk and narrow eyes. A guy in the crowd screamed as she glanced at him.

“I walk in with a pretty face, make 'em want a taste~ Boy, slow down, you gon' have to wait, dangling the bait~ You like, "Woah, 'Kali, you the GOAT"~ I'm like, "Yeah, I know"~ Prepare 'cause I like to ball, I won't stop~ Keep it lit, mega like a bit, I mean like a byte~ Get it right, know I do it big, I ain't talking height~ I'm legit, know I leave 'em dead~ I'm a boss, extra with the sauce, give 'em what they like~”

The purple haired girl circled back to the front as the four of you sang the pre-chorus. The boys were nodding along, tapping their feet along to the beat begrudgingly. It was a good song. Didn’t mean they had to like the girls that had been so haughty to them.

“I'm doing damage, went just how I planned it~ I do what I want when I say (When I say, when I say)~ I'm making the news but it ain't nothing new~ To live on the edge of insane~”

The boys were shocked when, just before the chorus dropped, the scars under the makeup on you and the purple haired girl flared with purple energy, quick enough to just be a trick of the light to normal people. But the Hunters? They knew that pattern.

“Demons.”

“Comin' at you live (Live), real, real wild~ Here to light it up, set the world on fire (Fire, ah yeah)~ Gonna break rules and hearts in twos~ 'Cause that's what the baddest do~ Never goin' back (Back), nah, not that~ Diamonds on drip 'cause I came to make a splash~ Gonna break rules and hearts in twos~ 'Cause that's what the baddest do (It's crazy)~”

“A demon girl group?” Kwan questioned his reality incredulously, gesturing at the four dancing girls. Was this really Gwi Ma’s latest strategy to keep the Honmoon from being sealed.

“Why would they do this?” Jum tilted his head curiously, taking his sucker out to tap it against his pursed lips thoughtfully.

“It must be the fans,” Chungae mused thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but snap a photo of the girls to upload to his social media later.

And then you finally took the front position, launching into the second verse with a sultry allure that distracted the boys for a long moment. You were smiling at the crowd, just a little tilt of your lips as you rolled your hips, flipping your hair. Even as you sang, you stopped to help a girl with her food and cheered up some stressed kids with a gentle swipe of your hand across cheeks, a pat to the head, and some finger hearts flashed their way.

“They… she seems nice…?” Jinu noted, his Hunter training fighting against what he was seeing. “Demons are never nice,” He corrected himself with the shake of his head.

“We should go kill them, right? Before they hurt all these people?” Kwan nudged his head forward, already taking steps towards the performing demons.

“Yeah,” Hyeon agreed, ready to follow him with a growl in his chest.

“No, it’s way too public,” Jinu told the two, grabbing their arms to stop them from going anywhere. “Too public for them to do anything either.”

“Sorry for the bad news, sorry I'm so bad~ Only took a minute for me to get what you had~ Sorry for the bad news, know it makes you sad~ I'll be here for a minute, baby, you should pack your bags~ Way that I look should be breakin' the law~ If I don't got it, I take what I want~ My circle small like a round of applause~ You know that I love the sound of applause~ You know I mean everything that I say~ When you see me coming, get out of the way~ I came to slay, I came to slay~ Back and I'm better and ready to stay~”

The boys could do nothing but watch as the four of you landed on the ground with a leap after a move, sending out a burst of demon magic to alter the buildings and everything around you all. Everything turned black or dark gray with glowing neon accents and highlights, even clothes, like it was some cyberpunk set. The crowd cheered even louder, falling under the thrall of the four demonesses.

“I'm doing damage, went just how I planned it~ I do what I want when I say (When I say, when I say)~ I'm making the news but it ain't nothing new~ To live on the edge of insane (It's crazy)~”

The boys grit their teeth, trying to get to the front of the crowd as you finished off the song with the outro, the other three girls’ eyes on the boys the whole time, smirking mockingly at them.

“Sorry not sorry for bein' the best~ I came to stunt, I came to impress~ Look at the gold all on my chest~ Look at the gold, call it a flex~”

The song finished with the four girls in powerful poses, the purple haired girl at the front as the leader of the group with the pinkette and space buns on either side of her. You were next to the pinkette, a small smile on your lips like you had enjoyed that performance. Then your eyes caught on the boys and you flashed them a cocky wink and some finger hearts that made the people around them scream.

“Thank you, everybody! Look for us tonight on everybody’s favorite game show, ‘Play Games With Us!’ Remember to join the Hunt! And the Huntr/x girls love you all!” The leader cooed to the crowd sweetly before the four of you disappeared in a burst of demon magic.

Leaving behind five, flabbergasted, irate boys who didn’t know how to feel about the pretty, hot demoness that had caught their eyes but was going after their fans.

A/N: Let me know what you guys think in the comments! And thank you @luckybunny001 for inspiring the names for the fire dog and three legged crow!

Outtakes:

You: “So what do you need me to do?”

Rumi: “I need you to dance and sing like you usually do but make it ten times sexier.”

You: “Uhm…are you trying to pimp me out…?”

Rumi: “…”

Rumi: “Kind of.”

…

Fan: “So. Do you prefer the soft pastel boy that you would take home to your mother, or do you prefer a woman who would step on you and you would thank her?”

Other Fan: *Looking between the Saja Boys and Huntr/x*

Other Fan: “…”

Other Fan: “Mother I humbly ask to be stepped upon.”

…

Jinu: *Having his Kdrama moment with you*

The Saja Boys: *Grinding their teeth and pulling their hair out in envy* “Stupid lucky bastard…”

Demon! Polytr/x: *growling and snarling under their breath* “Get your filthy presence away form our sister…”

…

Demon: “Man…this realm is so depressing… Wait, what’s she doing?”

Zoey: *Painting rainbows on a boulder with crayola paint and glitter she somehow got* “La la la la la~”

…

The Inspo for your debut outfit, I do not own this image or anything related to it.

[lighting-and-shadow]

Sylus x Non!MC Reader: Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist | ao3

In this story, everyone has a soulmate. Everyone except you that is. And while you pretend otherwise, that's always stung a bit. You don't have this destined perfect love that everyone raves about. You're just you. Lonely, jaded, sarcastic, you.

So... let's say you're a negotiator for Onychinus (Sylus found you and gave you job and your whole history is a story for another time). You were given this position for your unique talent: to see, what you call, the threads of fate. You don't just see someone's connection with their soulmate, you see their very soul.

You can imagine this makes you great in the business world. Able to discern lies from the truth, as well as make impossible deals possible. So, you and Sylus always had a great working relationship. He trusts you and tends to you everything. After all, how could he think to hide anything when a simple glance at him will tell you oh so much (including the pain from his past life as a dragon he tries so hard to hide)?

Now, enter MC. She rocks your world in more ways than one: Sylus didn't tell you about her, his own thread of fate is linked to her, and—and this is what makes you so intrigued by her—she has multiple, glitching threads. They sometimes become more visible when she's near certain people, but over all, you're just baffled by this girl. So you study her like the nerd you are.

(Or maybe that's just an excuse. A cover to hide how your heart hurts and how much you hate this girl. Because she has so much of the one thing you cannot have: true love. Because she has all this love in the world, so why, just why, did she have take the one you wanted?)

(You hate her and you love her. She's so kind, and smart, and beautiful, and everything you'll never be. Maybe that's why she has so many soulmate links while you have none? Because you're plain and boring and bland and lonely and...)

And who knows, maybe something good might come out of it?

Edit: anyone who wants to be tagged when I release this, comment below! I’m currently writing down those I see, so even if I didn’t reply, know that I’m being sure to make note.

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter one: a new beginning

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

you are here | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you've always hated her. you live your life free from her and caleb. a stranger helps save you from a date gone wrong.

word count: 5.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, kinda sad, a good mix of everything! mentions of death. not proofread!

author's note: hi! this is my first lads fic! it's lowkey a mess and is all over the place, but that's okay! i hope you all enjoy! <33 please feel free to comment! i love any & all feedback! <33

You never thought yourself to be a hateful person, but whenever you saw Caleb with her, your heart boiled. His smile was always the brightest with her. He always handed her the first water bottle after a run around the neighborhood. His eyes were always on her and not you during study hall. They shared giggles with one another and you were the last to know the joke as you filled out blank homework pages. Whenever she walked into a room, he jumped to her side and aided her with whatever it is she needed.

And she always needed something.

Your friendship with Caleb and the girl you deemed a she-devil blossomed from a young age, having been next-door neighbors with Josephine. You are older than her yet still a few months younger than Caleb, which meant that the two of you had to look out for her.

She was naive in many ways. She always trusts people too easily and is quick to help, not knowing that the world is cruel and is out to hurt her. It’s something you and Caleb bonded over; taking care of her was something you had in common with him alongside planes, absolutely loving apple pie, and always wanting to be the last one tagged during recess.

However, those childhood days have long passed and you’ve settled into a draining routine where you played a background character in someone else’s life.

When you and Caleb reached freshman year of high school, you were sure that he was going to ask you to be his date to the homecoming dance. Instead, you were surprised with the revelation that he was going to stay home and have a movie night with her since she wasn’t in high school yet.

Despite his compliments about your dress, he snuck back inside his house when you asked him if he needed a ride to the dance. She was waving him back inside in the background and he couldn’t have been happier to watch My Little Pony or whatever bullshit she had lined up.

You basked in his frequent compliments when he met you outside your home, when she wasn’t around. Caleb always knew what to say when you had a saddened frown on your face.

“Did James turn you down? I thought he liked you! You’re a catch!” Caleb’s warm words reached your ears and made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. At least he knew then that you were worthwhile. If only he wasn’t so blind to what you had to offer to him.

At least you had a year of high school alone with him. You two even shared a few classes together and had planned study nights to prepare for final exams! Huddled at the desk in his room, you could smell the sweet apple scent of his shampoo and were able to hear through raspiness of his chuckle right next to your ear.

It was fun until she came inside his room, claiming that she wanted to help you two study. That plan lasted for about ten minutes before she whined and complained that she wanted to watch her and Caleb’s favorite show. That night ended up with her snuggled into his side while he stroked her hair. You held the chip bowl, not by choice, and watched as your crush on the boy next door began to deteriorate.

When she finally joined your and Caleb’s high school, you bit your tongue and held back the deplorable comments that shuffled through your mind about his so called beloved. You even held back comments to your new friends about his relationship with her. You knew that if you ever said anything bad about her, he’d come to her defense and shun you for what you’ve said.

It never mattered how you felt. It didn’t matter if you were having a bad day or had just embarrassed yourself in front of your entire gym class when Becky threw a ball right at your face. His attention will forever be owned by her. You’ll never get to know how it feels to always be under his cautious gaze nor will you ever be a recipient of his charming smile.

Truth is, you used to be friends with them. The perpetual third wheel to all of their escapades and adventures. You used to be close to them but as time moved on, they grew closer together and you, well, just didn’t fit into their equation anymore. The funny thing is that they have no clue of their wrongdoing towards you nor did they realize that you had left their group entirely after months of sitting in your room, filled with nothing but discontent as you scrolled through their posted selfies together.

You thought you set yourself free from them. It’s better to watch from afar instead of up close, no? It spares you more heartbreak and it, very selfishly, keeps you away from her.

You can stay away from her smiles. Her laughter. The way her dark hair falls into the perfect messy bun while yours just looks plain erratic. Not to mention the way her hands always lingered on him while you watched, helpless from the other side of the lunch table.

And you can finally break free from that stupid nickname he has for her.

“Hey!” You hear a friend’s voice from over your shoulder. You turn and smile at them, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you ready for the game against the Rams tonight? I heard you’re starting!”

Before you can reply, you hear a thud behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice that Caleb leans against the metal lockers. His arms are crossed over his chest and he wears that stupidly charming  grin on his face.

“You have a game tonight? Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks. Her smile falters.

Us. That damned word.

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug, placing your leftover books inside the locker. “You two are usually busy anyways doing…whatever…so it wouldn’t have mattered if you knew or not.”

Okay, maybe there is some venom in your tone and malice in the way you throw your books into your locker. To be fair, you’re so fed up with them ghosting you and never showing up to your games that you can’t help but let some of your anger out.

“Woah!” Caleb pushes off the locker and holds his hands in the air. You roll your eyes and slam the locker shut, walking away. He quickly follows and matches your hellish pace. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so distant lately. Me and—”

“Don’t,” you bark. The two of you pause in the middle of the hallway, your eyes locked on his in a heated glare. “How long do you think it’s been since I’ve hung out with you two?”

A look of confusion flashes across his face. You have to stop yourself from looking at the way his face scrunches up, the way his tongue pokes about between his lips while he thinks.

“Hm…like a month?” Caleb’s words are genuine, you know that, but it shatters your heart to know that he doesn’t even realize it’s almost been a year since you two hung out, let alone were in a room together.

“A month?!” You scoff and look away. A laugh filled with disdain and shock escapes your lips. Your hands drop to your side, tightly balled into fists, as anger washes throughout your body. “Caleb, be real with me right now. Do you truly think it’s been a month?”

You want to give him a chance to redeem himself, for him to own up to the mistake he’s made. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

“I do, yes…” he wearily says. Your nostrils flare, cheeks heating with irritation.

“Hey guys!” Her cheerful tone scratches the inside of your brain. You sharply inhale and close your eyes just to open them to the side of her attaching herself to his side. “Are you okay? You look angry,” she remarks and gently places her hand on your shoulder. You immediately slap it away. The tips of your fingers tingle from the smack.

“Hey! What was that for?” Caleb steps in front of her, pushing the teen girl behind him.

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing up at Caleb, who guards her from you.

“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” You snap, pushing past them, your shoulder bumping into Caleb’s bicep. 

“Wait!” Caleb’s voice rings in your ears. A flash of hope makes your heart flutter.

Is he going to chase after you? Will he finally ditch her and see how you’re feeling for a change? Will the old Caleb come back, the one that actually cared about you and your feelings?

Your feet hesitate, pace drastically slowly, still in earshot of the other two’s conversation. You can hear his footsteps coming after you, going from slow to quick, but they suddenly stop.

“She isn’t worth it, Caleb,” her voice shoots any semblance of hope you felt, ripping your heart into shreds. “She’s so mean…she doesn’t deserve your care.”

The hallway in front of you turns glossy. You use the back of your hand to wipe away the tears that brew in your eyes. Your once reluctant pace hastens and you disappear down the hallway, becoming just another face in the crowd.

The year passed and you graduated with a new group of friends; friends that welcomed and invited you with open arms. Your camera roll was no longer sad, filled with empty selfies with her and Caleb not paying attention in the background, shifting to group photos and friends completing the other side of your hand heart. It filled your heart with the joy and happiness that your previous friendships lacked.

And most importantly of all: you were completely over Caleb and didn’t have to spend any more time around her. It’s a relief for you, really, and you’re able to go to the college of your dreams and pursue the career you wanted. 

The saddened memories no longer pained you. They no longer dug into your skin. Instead, you planted them into the soil of your mind, using the special fertilizer (the special ingredient being resent), and grew from them.

So what if they wronged you? You were now free and didn’t owe either of them a damn thing! That is, until Caleb died.

The news nearly broke you. Your mother informed you of the news when you came home for a visit. You were on a much needed break from work and were looking for a chance to relax. Your time of relaxation was quickly turned inside out.

You became a shell of yourself, the last memory of Caleb haunting your mind as you holed up in bed, covers covering the entirety of your body with a small hole for clean and cool breathing air. Your cheeks became perpetually stained with tears, becoming sticky in your sleep before the cycle started all over again.

The day of his funeral was unnecessarily rough. Your mother had to drag you out of bed and help you into the shower, the hot water turning cold from the amount of time you stood there. Once you stepped out, body trembling from the cold air, you stared at the black dress that was laid out across your bed.

It was simple. It stopped mid-thigh and the sleeves ran long down your arms. You paired it nicely with tights from high school, a pair that Caleb complimented you on, and a pair of simple booties.

She was the center of attention, of course, there was no doubt about that. The ache in your chest left you feeling conflicted. She sat alone, head hung low, as people walked by, chuckling as if they weren’t at a funeral reception.

You almost felt bad for her and the way her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She clung to a piece of metal in her hand, occasionally bringing it up to her lips to kiss it.

The distance between the two of you felt like a game of cat and mouse. She took one step forward, you took one back. She entered the hallway you found recluse in, you made sure that there was room in the closet for you to hide in.

You thought that you were able to slip out unnoticed until she called out your name.

“Hi…” your voice falls off. Her fists are balled at her sides, knuckles white.

“What are you doing here?” Her words are sharp, effortlessly slicing into you. “I thought you hated him.”

“I could never hate him…” the words barely come out, just above a meek whisper. She doesn’t say anything else. All she does is stare at you with her heartbroken expression, eyes strained and red from the sobs she let out earlier.

A part of your heart broke for her. The other part remained emotionless, knowing how she tormented you in your younger years by dangling Caleb in front of your face. It tormented you to know that you could still hold a sliver of resentment in your heart for something that happened so long ago. You quietly left, leaving her alone in the hallway, disappearing behind a familiar turn.

A year passes. The hatred you held in your heart has dissipated. You’ve watered the flowers you planted in your mind and the petals read off messages of forgiveness and second chances, even though you made sure to never run into her ever again.

Some people can forgive and forget, but you’ll be sure to forgive and keep a distance.

Skyhaven isn’t too bad of a home. Sure, there’s barely any trace of organic life throughout the city, except for the token tree the mayor decided to add about two months ago, but it’s a nice place to live. You’ve made yourself comfortable. The nightlife is great and the rain is even better. You even made some friends at your job and have gone out on a date or two with a guy who is very attentive.

But none of them are Caleb.

You stare at yourself in the cafe mirror, shaking your head. You fix your disheveled hair, wondering how you managed to spend the last ten minutes digging up the past when you’re on a date with a very cute guy. You bite your lip and tweak the last details of your outfit, flattening out a wrinkle in your skirt.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you glide down the hallway, smiling at the other customers who pass by. You can finally go back to…what’s his name again?

Jared? Clyde? Marc, who always emphasizes that there’s a ‘C’ at the end of his name instead of a ‘K’?

You clap your hands together when the name comes back to you. He jumps in his seat, his eyes closing in on you when you sit down. His smile is a little too goofy, missing out on any kind of charm that he can capitalize on, and you can’t help but watch out of the lower half of your vision as he itches his crotch.

“Thanks for waiting for me, George,” a warm smile spreads across your lips. He matches it and leans forward, pushing a colorful mug in your direction. You watch it closely before drawing it closer to you. You don’t take a sip, though, instead letting the whipped cream on top of the coffee melt. You sigh.

You don’t even liked whipped cream on your coffee. You know who would have remembered that?

“It was no problem at all!” George proudly proclaims. His chair scraps across the wooden floor. He inches closer and closer towards you in an attempt to close the distance but you scoot away from him, keeping a pleased smile on your face.

“So, what were you saying you do for a job?” Your question goes straight to his head. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you refrain from interrupting him about his long ramble about how he works as a “video game consultant” at a local game store.

The conversation is so painful to sit through. You glance between his beady gaze and the clock on the wall behind him. The ticking hands somehow move slower when he dives into his day to day routine. Maybe the whipped cream isn’t as bad as you previously thought.

An hour goes by and you have barely been able to get a word in. Mugs form into a half-circle in front of you. Your leg bounces up and down, hands jittery. Even your blinking is rapid as you solely stare at the clock.

“That’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” George grabs his glass. He ordered a cream soda at the beginning of the date but the cream separated from the colorful soda water, forming into chunky clouds.

“You know what,” you breathe out in a laugh, signaling over your shoulder to the door, “it’s getting late. I have an early start tomorrow so I should get going.” You stand from the chair and snatch your tiny purse from the seat beside you.

The cafe is practically empty now and the sun has set hours ago. You rush towards the exit, the route to the door feeling like it never ends as Greg — oh shit, George! — chases after you. 

The Skyhaven night is nice and crisp. The rain isn’t as hard tonight, just a mere sprinkle, and you rush out into the open, taking a deep breath. The chilled air fills your burning lungs and you’re able to breathe again, that is, until George grabs your hand. You gasp and snatch it back from him.

The raindrops lightly kiss your face but George’s sickening smile makes you want to hurl. He creeps towards you, the moon shining just bright enough for you to see the darkness form in his eyes.

“I have to get home, George!” You nervously chuckle, turning away. You rush towards the nearest bus stop, knowing that there will be other people there to take refuge with. George doesn’t let up though and his movements become more primal and animalistic as the seconds tick by.

“Come on, sweetheart,” George beckons from behind. You can hear his ragged breath from behind you grow close. You brace your body for impact…but nothing comes. Instead, you hear a struggle from behind. You swirl on your heels and stare at the scene behind you.

A tall man pushes George away from you. The moonlight reflects off of the shine of his coat, the top of his hat deflecting the light raindrops. You stagger backward, heart racing inside your chest, as George crumbles to the ground, a blur of red, grey, and blue pushing down on the man.

“She said she’s going home,” the voice growls. It itches the back of your mind, calling to you like a faint memory. “Leave. Or I’ll crush you right here and now.”

The voice beckons to you from the back of your mind, putting it at ease. The voice calls out your name followed by a throaty chuckle. It asks you how you’re doing, if you need help with that week’s math homework. You can also hear his voice apologize to you for forgetting about your plans to go to the movies with your group of friends, making some excuse that she got locked in the attic and needed rescuing.

The moonlight turns dark, the floating rock covered by a cloud, as the figure slowly approaches you. The once soft droplets of rain evolve into hardened projectiles, the wind picking up from all around you. With the weather matching your quickly escalating mood, you march through the rain, the phantom chasing after you.

“Hey! You’re getting soaked!” His voice calls from behind. You pay no attention to it.

The voice sounds exactly like a dead man! A person who is resting in peace six feet under and couldn’t possibly be here in Skyhaven.

You reach the bus stop and hide under the small covering, the rain pounding against the top, rolling off the sides. You hold your arms to yourself and your teeth clatter on the inside of your mouth. You have to tell yourself to not look at the man beside you.

Stranger danger, after all.

“Why are you ignoring me?” The man asks. It’s just the two of you at the bus stop. The stop’s light flickers, adding to the already ominous feeling that forms deep inside your chest. You hug your arms to your body, providing the only warmth in this cold night. “Oh, I get it. You’re mad at me.”

“I don’t even know who you are!” You retort rather quickly, finally looking up at the man.

You gasp and stumble backward. He quickly reaches for you, his large, warm hands gripping your waist, stabilizing you.

He looks down at you with an irresistible and charming smile. His purple eyes seem to glow under the dim lighting. He wears a black and orange rain jacket, black baseball cap sitting on his head. He cocks his head to the side, gaze drifting to memorize your face.

Nausea sweeps over your body. You tear your gaze off of the phantom before you. The cold air pricks the inside of your lungs, rapidly moving in and out of your system.

This can’t be real, right? He cannot possibly be standing in front of you, alive and well, with that damn smile on his face. A single tear rolls down your cheek, your lips parted. Your breath flows out of your mouth in gentle plumes of steam.

“Caleb?” Your voice falters. He chuckles, smoothing down your frizzy hair.

“The one and only! C’mon, you can say it: you missed me!”

You reach out, grabbing his arms, squeezing him. His brows furrow, eyes training themselves on your hands as you poke and prod various parts of his body. You grab his cheeks, pulling on them before squishing his face. He gently takes your hands into his, moving your hands away from his face.

“You done yet?”

“You’re alive!”

“I am well aware of that, yes.” His laugh fills your ears and your heart swells.

Even after all these years of forgetting Caleb, you still end up swooning for him the moment he saves you from Landon.

Or was it David? Eh. It doesn’t really matter.

“How…what…” you stammer, unable to form a cohesive and coherent sentence. Caleb sighs and takes your hand. He flattens your palm against his chest.

How heartbeat is slow and steady…it’s there. You gasp, bottom lip trembling, legs slowly becoming jelly.

Tears freely flow down your face as the realization of his existence sets in.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s breathing.

His last memory of you isn’t you ending your friendship and avoiding him for the rest of your senior year of high school.

You collapse to your knees, hand digging into your chest. A sharp pain slices into your chest as your fingernails dig into your skin in an attempt to grab your heart and to scream at it to calm down. The pounds from your heart makes your ears ring, drowning out the endless pitter patter of rain. Even your lungs feel as if they are on fire, unable to suck in and inhale the oxygen that you need to survive.

Your eyes open and Caleb’s face is right in front of yours. You can hear him speak but cannot make out a single word that he says. He gently helps you back to your feet.

“Take it easy,” his words seep through the sound of your heartbeat, “breathe.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck, warming your body, and his thumb gently grazes the side of your neck. You inhale through your nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling until all of the air is out of your lungs.

“Does she know?” the question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it.

How could you even ask that at a time like this? You should be seeing if he’s okay! If he’s in any sort of trouble that you can help get him out of.

Did he fake his death? Has he been alive this whole time? When was he going to come see you?

Caleb sharply inhales through gritted teeth, pulling away from your face. You watch him closely, bottom lip trembling.

You know. You know the answer.

Of course she knew before you! She is his beloved, the one person he will spend the rest of his life with. It’s laughable to even think that you stood a chance against her.

“Actually,” you interrupt him, covering his mouth, “don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know.” Even though every fiber of your being screamed blood murder at you to figure it out.

Is he dating her? Has he ditched her for good? HAs Caleb finally come to the realization that she isn’t some angel that came down from the heavens.

His purple eyes blink at you, perplexed by your actions. Caleb speaks into your hand but his voice is a mere muffle. You sigh and look out at the pouring rain.

You need to get home.

You need to get home and get away from him.

You need to relieve yourself of any memory, item, or scent that can remind you of him because, well, he clearly isn’t yours to have.

If you stay any longer, you’re going to end up crying in the rain, unloading all of your emotions onto him. And Caleb, who has risen from dead, doesn’t deserve to hear any of it. He’s innocent in all of this and no matter how angry and resentful you can feel towards him, you’ll never be able to hold it against him.

“Get home safe, Caleb,” you breathe the words out, slowly releasing your hand from his mouth.

You push away from him and bare the thundering rain on your own, hugging your jacket to your body. You sprint across the street, desperately needing to get away from him.

Caleb watches you with wide eyes, captivated by the woman you’ve become.

You’ve lost all the baby fat in your cheeks. Your hair is longer and is styled to perfection.

You’re bolder. Funnier, even, whether it’s intentional or not. Caleb laughed at your jokes in the cafe, particularly the ones that George didn’t find funny.

Whatever. He’s an idiot.

He heard your laugh from inside the cafe and got drunk off of it. He found himself smiling wider than he has before in the past year.

You took his mind off of his stressful job, which he just came back from, and relaxed his body. He didn’t think about how ling he stayed in that damned tunnel nor did he think about his connections with Ever.

Your laugh turned off the fight or flight switch that perpetually stayed on inside his head. It did pain him, though, to know that you were out with other guys. This George fellow is not your match. He’s a Sul-indulgent prick who only talks about himself.

And what the fuck is a video game consultant anyways?

His job is nothing compared to being a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. You’ll surely be impressed with that.

You did always say you loved a man in a uniform.

His purple eyes flicker with excitement. He steps out into the rain and follows in your exact footsteps. Once he’s across the street, he turns around and stares at the cafe you two once sat in.

She walks out with her friends, umbrellas covering their heads. They smile and laugh with one another, teasing as thunder booms in the background. He chuckles at their umbrellas but his smile quickly fades when he realizes that you didn’t have one.

Silly girl. Now he has to check in on you and make for sure that you don’t catch a cold.

His gaze drifts to her but the spark he once felt isn’t there anymore. She’s…boring now. Caleb tilts his head back and laughs.

How could he have been so blind?

His focus has been on her all along but you…you are something else.

Captivating. Intoxicating. Enchanting. Hilarious. Fascinating.

Your fruity perfume formed a tent in his pants. Have you always smelled like apples and cinnamon? You encapsulate an autumn evening. Suddenly, he loves it when the leaves change colors and fall from the trees. He’ll never let you fall ever again.

Caleb doesn’t know how he let you slip through his fingers so many times. You live in Skyhaven, too, right under his nose. He should have found you sooner.

He should have gone with you to the homecoming dance. He regrets not watching you during the countless games you’ve invited him to. He should have closed the door in her face when she petered you two when you needed to study for the math exam. It was never your best subject. Lucky, he excelled in it.

And he should have fucking gone after you when you told him to fuck off all those years ago.

But now?

Now Caleb’s going to take back the time he missed out on. Surely, you’d feel the same way when he comes back? After all, he does know where you live now.

Six floors up. The fourth room from the left. You have a stained glass butterfly hanging in your window. He’ll see it up close soon enough.

He stands outside your apartment building with a bright smile on his face, staring up at your bedroom. He can see you move throughout the living room, your shadow painted against the far wall. His eyes follow as you slip into your bedroom. You look out the window.

What are you looking at? I’m here. Show me anything. Give me the signal I need to come and save you.

You turn on a lamp. The light points up to the butterfly, illuminating the blue and orange colors from the glass.

You’re so thoughtful.

How did you know those are his favorite colors?

Caleb chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His feet carry him to the entrance of your apartment building, just barely sneaking in as a couple leaves. He thanks them and sneaks to an elevator, stepping inside as he presses the button to your floor.

Thank you for the signal, he thinks to himself, I’ll be there soon.

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[snowfall-jess]

Gone By Morning | Sylus x Non-MC!Reader

CW: Unrequited love(?), sisterly bond with MC, mentions of other LIs vaguely, angst, hurt no comfort, ooc bc I truly do not believe any of the LIs would ever lead anyone on. Lack of communication on all sides, unreliable narrator(?), situationships(?), based on the song with the same name by Madilyn Mei, not beta read aaaa- lmk if I missed anything thank youuuu

My sister asked for angst so uh, enjoy. Blame her.

I also have never written angst before so-

Word Count: 1786

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧ ꩜

Sylus was your world. The center, the universe. The stars in your sky, the moon in it’s light casting on you from above. It wasn’t something you ever planned on, but the heart wants what it wants, doesn’t it? Even when you fought, put up all your walls and deflected, removed yourself from situations where you and him would be in the same area… It was useless.

His charming, raspy voice still weaved and curled around you just like his evol. His words, teasing yet sliding like a snake capturing you in his grasp had never let you escape. It was like you were his target from the beginning.

But that wasn’t true.

I’m just a line in your book, you’re all the pages in mine

Why does it seem to happen like that, every time?

You’ve seen how he had touched her. The gentle, loving smiles he gave her, Miss Hunter. The girl with bright eyes, wit, and charisma that outshines you in more ways than one. You’ve seen the way other men had looked at her, the softness in their eyes as if they were in her orbit.

But you could never bring yourself to hate her. No, not when she treated you with such kindness. You could mourn, try to hate her, but even you ended up caught within her space. The way she would pull you to Linkon to play Kitty Cards on your break times, the way she memorized your order at Destiny Cafe and made sure to make Mephisto carry it back for you… There was no way to hate her. Not when she gave you such warmth as well.

It was difficult to hate someone who loved you so dearly.

She treated you like a sister she never had. Her eyes followed you when you entered a room, the way she would always try to spend time with you outside of her jobs and missions. It was endearing, really. She would only want to do what would make you happy, to make you proud of her.

But there were times where you could only look at her with pain. The way her light could outshine anything - even the brightest diamond in Sylus’ vault - was blinding at times. The looks that Sylus would give her would only make your heart ache and burn with both guilt and overwhelming envy. It often was like you were tearing yourself up inside, claws of a green eyed monster ensured a fight within you to preserve yourself because you, too, loved her in your own way.

I’m just a line, I’m just a line, I’m just a line, I’m just a line, I’m just a line

The thing was, however, that she would always refuse to say that she was ever interested in any men. But you knew that with their countless interactions that there was a growing fondness. A blurring of lines that started to form into established certainties. 

It was a ticking time bomb.

And eventually, you would be the only casualty. That, you knew.

I’m just a moment in time,

A single beat and then I’m

Gone as quick as I came we never get to rewind

You had to leave, you had to escape somehow. And as the days ticked on, each second slowing to an hour and days to months, you knew you couldn’t tell him. Not when he looked so happy, so purely onto her with adoration and love that you wished you could have for yourself.

Sometimes, you wished you never met him. Never had his blazing red eyes that always seemed to know what you were thinking in your life. Never had his silver locks between your fingers, like the night where he accidentally landed himself into your lap.

That night was a night you greedily held onto hope. He was uncharacteristically out of it. Sylus was exhausted, the night being a lot more brutal than what was usual for Onychinus. The sun was coming up and even with the comfortable bed he had at the base, he stubbornly laid himself on your lap.

“Stop squirming,” He huffed, voice rough as his arms wrapped around your waist. His face buried in your stomach as his brows furrowed at the way you shifted under him. “You’re acting as if I’ll hurt you.” He softly snickered, a smirk curling on his lips as he took in a deep breath.

You flinched a little, but Sylus only seemed to ignore it. His smirk only grew and his grip on you tightened as if he expected you to run off if he didn’t hold onto you. With a soft sigh, your hand hesitantly went through his hair. Your nails gently scratched his scalp as your heart raced.

Where he laid on your lap sent fire though your veins. Your body trembled, the unexpected way he clung to you made your heart both ache with pain and jump with joy at the way he seemed to need you. As if he needed you to hold him, to give him a place of rest.

“You could never hurt me,” You softly said. A sweet lie slipping through your lips as you placed a practiced smile on your lips. “I’m surprised you came to me, though.” With a soft sigh, you ended up relaxing, your hand easily finding it’s rhythm and becoming familiar with the shape of the man on your lap.

“Well,” Sylus chuckled sleepily, a smile replacing his smirk as he nuzzled into your thigh. “I figured I should change my resting place tonight.” He said. “Not that you mind at all, right, sweetie?”

No, you thought. You didn’t mind at all.

“Just don’t make it a habit.” You softly scoffed, shaking your head even as the smile on your lips melted into a real one that he couldn’t see.

I’m skipping town I’m leaving now

I’m leaving I’m…

It all came to a halt when you saw them together one day out in Linkon. She was giggling, holding a drink in one hand and arm curled around his in another. Sylus was… happy. His carmine eyes warm not like blood, but like silk. Cool yet gentle, adaptable and expensive.

Something out of your reach.

He was never yours to begin with. It was a mistake to allow yourself to get so close. To allow your heart to let you in so easily - but he made the effort to stay there beside you. To give you almost what you wanted.

That was the breaking point.

On any other day, you would’ve bit your tongue and followed them. Walk up beside them and join them on this outing. But after so long, it seemed like a part of you just broke. It became too much, and all you could do was turn and leave.

I’m leaving before I’m out of time

Sylus didn’t know when you left, but he suspected it was sometime when he was with Miss Hunter. He didn’t see you - he didn’t think to have Mephisto follow or track you. Normally, you would come find him - or he would go to you.

After dropping off Miss Hunter, he expected to see you at the base. Maybe in his room, wearing one of his shirts with a bright smile on your lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle, a memory bubbling to the surface as he recalled when he found you in his clothes one time.

“What?” You asked, your eyes sparkling in a mischievous way he adored. Your head tilted, brows arched as if you dared him to question your antics. “Don’t you think I look a little like you?” You had giggled, putting on one of his glasses as you placed your hands on your hips. Your eyes narrowing and lips forming into a thin line.

Sylus at the time could only grin. His eyes sparkling as he drank up the sight of you so easily fitting yourself into his clothes that swallowed you whole. You looked…

“Beautiful.” He had whispered under his breath. Causing you to look at him confused as you took off his glasses.

“Come again?”

“Nothing,” Sylus chuckled.

That memory always made him smile, seeing you in his clothes always filled a warmth in his chest. It was a precious moment that he held close, something he remembered when he was out and about finishing business. Hoping that you would do that once more for him to bear witness to.

When he looked for you in the base, he asked Luke and Kiernan who didn’t have any clue of your whereabouts.

“We don’t know where they are, boss.” Luke had said, shrugging as he tilted his head.

“They were looking for you, actually.” Kiernan hummed, his hand moving to his chin as he thought about it. Sylus could only furrow his brows. If you came looking for him while he was with Miss Hunter, you would normally come up and join the two of them.

Miss Hunter and Sylus never rejected your company. With you there, it felt more complete. Warmer, almost. Miss Hunter had lamented earlier to him that you were rejecting her invitations more often and he knew how she missed you.

“Look through the cameras and look for where they went,” Sylus commanded, the twins easily following his orders. “Swearch the N109 Zone, surely, they couldn’t have gotten far.” He said, looking to Mephisto who cawed in response and disappeared into the night sky.

At that moment, a sense of unease filled his chest. A heavy, uncomfortable weight that caused him to loosen his button up. Where were you? He never had to worry about you going missing before. He never thought you would leave him, why would you? He had given you everything, didn’t he?

Sylus could feel himself start to come apart as the minutes ticked by with your absence. The twins couldn’t find you, nor could Mephisto. With a wave of his hand, he reached out to his contacts. All of them sent to find you, but what he was given in return was nothing.

You were gone.

Without a word and without a trace. Clever kitten, he could give you that. You somehow managed to scrub the database clean of your influence as if you never existed in the first place. He had taught you well, too well to the point he could feel a cold and empty dread he hadn’t felt in years start to sink into his chest and bones.

He didn’t mean to drive you away, to make you think that you were replaceable. But now, as the sun started to peak in between the curtains of his office…

You were gone by morning.

[straylightdream]

busy woman

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kwon soonyoung x afb.reader

Yeah, I’m a busy woman. I wouldn’t let you come into my calendar any night. But if you want my kisses. I’ll be your perfect Mrs. ‘til the day that one of us dies

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, smut

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: needy soonyoung, mc can be quite bitchy

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, so much kissing, oral (fem rec), mentions of rough sex, car sex, mentions of being sore from overstimulation, passionate sex, cockwarming, quickie (it’s not really quick) mentions of anal/anal play. Nicknames: Baby girl, baby, darling, honey, sweet cheeks, ice queen (hers) baby, baby boy, tiger boy, soonie (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, 18+

𝐚𝐧: I can’t stop writing for hoshi right now. This inspired by the song of the same name by Sabrina carpenter. Thank you @naniwatig3r for beta reading and helping me with this story.

🎧: busy woman - sabrina carpenters | I’m in love with you - the 1975 | sunshine baby - the japanese house

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

You didn’t make it easy on Soonyoung from the moment you met. His attempts to bring you home after a night out at the club were put to a screeching halt. Your teasing words informing him you don’t do one night stands. Your sweet teasing words that told him “I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for games. I need you to prove to me this isn’t just about sex to you.”

”Give me your number and I’ll prove to you that I just don’t want to have sex with you. Let me get to know you.”

That night you gave the boy with sparkling eyes and an energetic personality, your number.

Boy did Soonyoung work to prove to you that he was serious about you. You’ve never had a man make you feel so incredibly wanted. From the moment you met him, he worshiped the ground you walked on. In the beginning, you held your walls up high. Trying to portray the role of a strong woman, some people would call a bitch. But damn was he good at chipping away at your walls.

When he first started texting you, it took four days before you agreed to go on a date with him. One perfect date turned into two and then the next thing you knew you’ve been seeing him for a month.

The original plan was you were going to hold out on having sex with him until the one month mark. The problem was he was too charming and adorable for his own good. By the third date, you found yourself riding him in the backseat of his car. His hands touched anywhere they could reach as he moaned your name like a prayer.

At the three week mark you met his friends, and suddenly things started to feel more serious. That night when he intended to drop you off he like he always did. This time he just decided to let a little confession slip past his lips.

“Baby, I like you so much.”

“Baby?” You cock your head to the side. You’ve never been one for pet names. But the way he says it gives you butterflies.

“You’re my baby. Unless you hate that name – If so, I can call you something else. Honey, darling, sweet cheeks.” He’s now rambling on like an idiot. You might have broken him with little effort.

“I like baby.”

A huge smile forms on his lips causing his eyes to squint. “Baby.”

“Sweet cheeks?” There is no way you can’t bring up that absolutely terrible nickname.

Reaching up he pinches your cheek lightly. “You have the sweetest cheeks.”

Before Soonyoung you don’t think there is a single man on this planet that could get away with pinching your cheek and saying that. Narrowing your eyes at him. He pulls away quickly knowing he’s absolutely playing with fire.

“You’re lucky I like you too, Soonyoung.”

“You like me back? He says it like you haven’t been having a sleepover for the last week.

“Kwon Soonyoung, I like you a lot. Just remember if you ever make me feel unwanted or hurt me once. It’s absolutely over.” You knew deep down inside he would never do that. You just needed to make sure it was extremely clear to him.

Seven days later Soonyoung decides to be bold and say those three big words. Laying on his bed completely naked scrolling through your phone. Soonyoung is in the bathroom brushing his teeth. You’re not sure if your legs even work anymore. He managed to make you come five times in the span of an hour. Your legs feel like jelly, and to be quite frank your pussy is literally sore.

He walks back into the room and stands by the bed next to you. Glancing up at his glorious naked body, the twisted part of you wonders if your body could take another orgasm.

“Fuck you look good,” you practically moan.

“Baby I thought you said I broke your pussy, that you need a break?” He pushes your hair away from your face.

“Could you go nice and slow?” Sex with Soonyoung was normally quite passionate. Sometimes it was rough and lust filled, other times you’re pretty sure it’s what people referred to as “making love”.

“Aren’t you sore?” He crawls onto the bed.

“Maybe a little.” You’re suddenly acting shy and you aren’t quite sure why.

“Spread your legs for me baby.”

He crawls on top of you while resting on his knees. With the amount of cum left in you, he slides into you with ease. You expect him to start moving at a slow pace. But he doesn’t move at all. He just stays completely still hovering over you, while filling you to the brim.

“Are you going to move?” You reach up resting your hand on his cheek.

“Do you just want me to cockwarm you?”

“Isn’t this an inconvenient position to be doing that?”

“I mean we can switch positions.”

“So you’re not going to fuck me again?”

He doesn’t respond, he just leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. You want to act like a bitch and tease him, but you can’t. The way he’s looking at you, makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Soonyoung.”

“Baby?”

“Can you move?” You tangle your fingers in his hair holding him close to you.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re sore and you need to rest.” He presses another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Fine. Can we at least switch positions if you’re just going to keep your dick in me?”

A smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you. His kiss feels different. It’s filled with passion and it feels almost as if it’s filled with love.

“I want to say something to you. I just need you to promise me you won’t turn into an ice queen on me.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at your college nickname you made the mistake of telling him about.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“I need you to make a promise about this. Please.”

“Fine. I promise I won’t be an ice queen to you.”

“I love you.” Who knew those three words would feel like a ton of bricks hitting your chest. Holy shit he did fall hard for you. Your eyes are probably the size of saucers. You’re just in shock. “Judging by the look on your face you definitely don’t feel the same way. But that’s like cool. Just pretend I never said anything.” He’s stumbling over his words, definitely freaking out and you don’t blame him.

He starts to pull away from you sitting back on his knees. “Wait a damn minute Soonyoung.”

He pulls out of you leaving you once again feeling empty. You reach out for his hand. “Give me a minute to process what you said. I love you too.”

It’s his turn for his eyes to be the size of saucers. “Oh fuck we’re in love.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his statement. “Baby boy we’re definitely in love.”

One of your first major milestones after your fated “I love you” was your one year anniversary. You’ve dated around quite a bit since college, but you never tried having a serious long term relationship.

“Are you free Saturday?” Soonyoung asked, walking into your apartment.

“I'm a busy woman. I have dinner plans that night.” These plans would be extremely easy to get out of. Or it would be easy to just bring Soonyoung along with you.

“It’s our anniversary. I was hoping we could have dinner.” He shoves his hands in his pocket as he looks down, almost defeated.

“I’ll cancel the dinner. I may be busy, but I can be flexible. Just for you.” You give him a flirty smile at the word flexible.

“How flexible are we talking?” He instantly cheers up.

“I don’t know. Maybe we could test out a new position.” Leaning back on the couch you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Fuck.”

“Wasn’t that how the anniversary night is supposed to end?”

“Please tell me how I managed to make you fall in love with me?” He drops to his knees and practically crawls to you. He doesn’t realize it’s the other way around, You aren’t quite sure you managed to make him fall in love with you.

“I’m not quite sure. Something about you, tiger boy, is just so irresistible.”

He gets up off the floor and sits on the couch next to you. “I got you something.”

“I didn’t get you anything. My present to you was I was finally going to let you play with my ass.” This man is obsessed with your ass and you’ve built up enough trust with him in the bedroom that you decided he can start testing the waters with you, when it came to trying anal.

“Wait, are you serious?” He sounds like you just told him he’s getting his dream Christmas present.

“Yes. Now what is my present?”

“One minute.” He hops off the couch and jogs over to the front door where he dropped his work bag. He pulls out a long box and walks back over to you.

“If it was up to me I would be getting down on one knee and proposing to you, but I know you might slap me if I did that today. So I got you a necklace.”

He hands you the box. Opening it up you instantly smile at the beautiful gold necklace he got you. There is a delicate heart with two stones. One being your birthday stone, and the other being his. By no means are you ready to get married, but you hope one day he will actually propose to you.

“Soonie.” You rarely cry, but his thoughtful gift has you feeling extra emotional.

“You like it?” You don’t say anything, you just grab his hand, pulling him down to you. Crashing your lips into his. You kiss him like you need him to breathe.

“Just so you know, I’m not opposed to marrying you.”

He pulls away smiling. “That’s good to know. I’ll start ring shopping now.”

Two years into your relationship Soonyoung now lives with you, and he casually gave you an engagement ring three months ago. He didn’t make his proposal flashy. He just got down on one knee while you were cooking dinner together. It was absolutely perfect.

Things with Soonyoung just feel right. You can’t get enough of him, and he surely can’t get enough of you.

Rough lips moved down your neck as you gripped his shoulder holding on to him for dear life. You only have an hour together before he needs to go to work. It's clear he wants to take advantage of every moment you have together.

His teeth graze your skin as he gently nips at your skin, earning a gasp from you. He lays between your legs as he continues to kiss your skin. He’s never been one for a quickie. That’s probably due to the fact this man is obsessed with foreplay. This man never misses an opportunity to have his head between your thighs eating out until you're overstimulated and crying.

You’re a whiny mess desperately wishing he would move. Your hands roam lower resting on his butt pulling his hips forward slightly.

“Someone is needy,” he murmurs against his skin.

“I just want you,” you moan and he suddenly thrusts his hips.

“Can you ask nicely?” He pulls away from you looking at you with lust filled eyes.

“Please Soonyoung. I need you to fuck me,” you normally hate begging, but he has desperately needing him to move.

“Does my future wife want me to fuck her?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Ever since he proposed this man never misses an opportunity to call you his future wife. “Does my future husband want to?”

“God I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He practically groans.

“That wasn’t dirty talk.”

“You called me your husband while I’m literally inside you. That is literally the dirtiest thing you could say to me. I’m shocked I didn’t come immediately.” Sometimes you question why you put up with how dramatic he is.

“Future husband. Not present husband.”

“We can go down to the courthouse and change that right now.”

“It’s a shame you have to go to work.”

“I can call out.”

“Maybe if you fuck me so good I forget my last name I’ll take yours today.”

He lets out a groan closing his eyes. His ultimate dream is to marry you immediately. The day he proposed it you would have asked him to get married right then and there he would have in a heartbeat.

“Okay my love,” he leans forward pressing his lips to yours as he slowly starts rolling his hip into you.

With each thrust, your hands grip his shoulder holding on to him as his lips continue to assault yours. Your leg hooks over his back resting right above his butt.

He’s leaving for work in less than an hour and this is the one way he knows to show you exactly how much he’ll miss you and how much he truly loves you.

He continues his ministration, with each movement he’s hitting just the right spot with each thrust. You're lost in the moment and time doesn’t seem to matter. You aren’t sure if it’s been ten minutes or an hour.

You both finish moaning the other person's name. Laying in your bed next to each other, you aren’t ready for him to go to work.

He looks over at you and whispers, “Would you actually marry me today?”

He’ll never understand how much you love him, and how much you broke all your own rules for him.

“We’re both off from work tomorrow. Let’s go down to the courthouse and get married.”

The smile he gives you is a firm reminder that he’s hopelessly in love with you, and you can’t quite put into words how much you love him.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[humanjarvis]

apple pie

synopsis: caleb’s birthdays have always been lackluster. you give him his best one yet. 

tags: fluff, birthday fic, proposal, mc proposes to caleb, set 3 years post-explosion, calm mc x panicking caleb, he cries a little, reverse comfort, very slight angst, pet names (baby, pip-squeak). inspired by apple pie by lizzy mcalpine

word count: 4.4k 

a/n: surprise. i am so nervous posting this? that’s not good. but yes, this was an idea i mentioned in like my second week of writing and kept postponing. all of it was written before the trailer & card dropped so his birthday is more of a sob story here *plays tiny violin*. anyway i waited until i played the card to post this because with my luck his first line of dialogue would’ve been wow i really hate apple pie

The nostalgic scent of apple pie wafts through Caleb's Skyhaven home. 

Wetting a towel, you wipe the flour from your face and shrug your powdery apron into the laundry basket. In your clean clothes, you rest on a seat in his spacious kitchen, letting the soft evening sunlight fall across your face. 

Making good birthday memories had never been Caleb’s priority, always too busy with work or training or other people to pay any attention to himself. You’d lost count of the times Gran had sent you to bed before he finally came home for the night, trudging inside to find a candlelit cake sitting alone on the dining table. It was only after the explosion that you’d started celebrating his birthday the way you should have all along: he’d come home early, put his phone on silent, and wouldn’t lift a finger.

With your enthusiasm and scarily strict instructions, slowly but surely, the good memories were replacing the bad. 

And with any luck, today would be the best of them all.

He had never refused a gift you’d given him. Even if he hated it, he’d pretend the opposite, just like he did the first time you bought his present with your own money. The girls at your elementary school had been raving about a new dollhouse, so you’d scrambled together all the coins in your piggy bank to buy one for Caleb. And when he’d pulled the sparkly purple mansion out of the gift bag, he’d only faltered for a second before grinning and wrapping you in a hug. 

Back then, he’d indulged your naive anticipation, accepting even the most questionable of gifts with gratitude. 

But today, your gift is something else—something more. Something he couldn't pretend to like and accept with a selfless smile. 

You thought you'd be nervous—thought you’d chicken out, thought you wouldn't have the guts to risk the day you’d reclaimed for him by doing something so bold. To wager a love you’d fought so hard to cultivate.

But it was easy to be with him. 

You’d danced around each other when you'd reunited three years ago. But unsure stares had turned to shy embraces, and those had turned to carefree kisses.

You love him. More than you ever thought you could. 

And if his answer isn’t the one you want to hear, you’ll love him all the same. 

Beep! Beep!

The shrill ding of the oven shatters the kaleidoscope of flashbacks in your head. Pausing your absentminded spins on the bar stool, you gingerly take the pie out and set it on the cooling rack. Sliding your oven mitts off, you carefully unwrap your helpers for tonight: the silly little apple mascots Caleb had drawn of you both when you were little—a way to get you to eat more fruit. With a soft smile, you set them aside for later and hop back onto the stool, fiddling with the small navy box on the island. 

5:32, reads the sleek wall clock. He’ll be home early tonight, per your nonnegotiable demand. And until his warm voice calls out his arrival, you’ll endure his absence with thoughts of him. 

June 13th was a historically bad day. 

Prying eyes, summer jobs, and air emergencies…so many distractions that Caleb could hardly call them that anymore. Not outliers, not accidents, just…normal. It was normal for his birthday to never truly be his. 

And sometime, somehow, he’d become okay with that. Until the last few years, there hadn’t been much in his life for him to celebrate, after all. What should he have toasted to? The time the whole neighborhood had thrown a party at Gran’s house, and he’d barely seen you the whole night? The time he’d had to cover a slacker’s shift and couldn’t make it home until after the candles you’d lit for him had already fizzled out? The time he’d been legally dead and unable to even give you a call? 

Yes. June 13th was a historically bad day. 

As his aircraft rises from the Fleet’s hangar and into the sky, Caleb breathes a heavy sigh he’d been holding in since noon. At the request of his superiors, or maybe some kiss-up recruits—all he knows is that he didn’t ask for it—the administrative assistants had planned a lackluster birthday party for him that afternoon. His subordinates had been all but forced to attend, and their empty smiles and hollow well-wishes had only made him want to get back to you sooner.

Tonight would be better, he was sure of it. Because tonight was one of the rare nights when you were all his. 

He’d only been apart from you for 10 hours, but that was 10 hours too long. He never woke you up before he left for the day—you deserved to sleep in—so the only bit of you he’d had today was the half-page letter you must’ve snuck into his uniform in the middle of the night. Don’t worry about today, you’d written. Enjoy it. You’ll be home before you know it, and then, I’ve got you. 

He can’t wait to hold you in his arms. To have your scent envelop him as you thread your fingers through his hair. To taste the tart apple pie you’d baked for him the last two years—every birthday since the explosion. 

He remembers the first time like it was yesterday: coming home weary from a long day at work to find you in his kitchen, covered in flour and nose-deep in a hastily printed recipe. You’d shooed him away until the pie was ready and cooled, then presented it to him bashfully, ordering him not to judge.

The crust was burnt, but he'd finished it all in just a couple days. Yes, because it was good underneath the charred edges, but mostly because you made it. For him. 

The extra miles he’d had to run all week were worth it.  

When the familiar landing pad comes into view, Caleb’s hopes are as high as his plane in the sky. He touches down like he always does, quickly running through his mental checklist, and hurries down the ramp. 

A breeze rustles through the air. It’d rained earlier—a brief, capricious storm—but the gray clouds had made way for a hazy pink sunset. 

Reaching the patio, he scans his thumbprint on the buzzer, waiting impatiently for the system’s recognition. It comes after a few seconds, the access panel lighting up bright green, and Caleb steps through the doorway, eager to see you on the other side. 

“Baby? I’m ho—”

Before Caleb can finish his greeting, you barrel into him, wrapping your arms around his torso in excitement. His happy laugh sounds more like a giggle as he twirls you around the foyer. 

“Looks like someone’s happy to see me. What’s the occasion, I wonder?”

“I was testing your reflexes,” you mumble into his uniform. “Nice to see your age hasn’t caught up with you yet.”

“With you keepin’ me on my toes all the time, I’d say I got a few good years left in me,” he teases, gently ruffling your hair. “Have you been in here all day?”

“Mhm. I made the pie and I’ve been working on…other things,” you answer vaguely. 

“Oh, the pie. I almost couldn’t tell you made it without you all covered in flour.” 

Pulling back from his hold, you glare up at him in exaggerated annoyance. “You just redeemed your birthday freebie. Anything else you say today is fair game,” you warn.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet,” he relents, and you nod your approval. 

Circling around him, you stand on your tiptoes to tap his back twice. Caleb understands immediately, used to carrying you back to his car after your longer dates. As soon as he squats down, you climb onto his back, and he rises to full height effortlessly. 

“I’ve never heard of anyone being used for transportation on their own birthday,” he jokes, placing his hands under your knees for stability. 

“Nuh-uh. This is so you don’t see anything you shouldn’t.” Meticulously, you cover his eyes with your fingers. “The kitchen is a no-fly zone until I say otherwise. I’m just here to make sure you don’t trespass. Now, three steps forward,” you order, squeezing his sides with your legs like a horseback rider.

Caleb chuckles and follows your instructions, but before you can keep steering him, he finds his way to the living room sofa all by himself. 

“I made sure there weren’t gaps between my fingers—you couldn’t see anything! How did you…ugh, never mind. Of course you did,” you grumble as he gently deposits you on the sofa. 

When he sits by your side, his purple eyes are open and twinkling at you. “You forget they did blindfolded cockpit tests at the Academy. This was child’s play compared to that.”

“What can’t you do,” you say flatly, failing to hide your fondness. “The pie is cooling. But in the meantime,” you add, reaching sneakily behind an apple cushion, “I wanted to give you this.”

The mid-size box is imperfectly encased in space-themed wrapping paper. Between the two of you, Caleb had always been the better gift wrapper; he could always get the creases right, but you figured you couldn’t ask him to wrap his own birthday present. 

Taking the gift from your hands, he smiles at the tape plastered all over the box but tactfully refrains from commenting. “You know you didn’t have to, pip-squeak. A night with you to myself is enough for me.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” you tease, knowing he’ll try to protest the second the words leave your mouth. And when he does, you cut him off. “Open it, baby. I think you’ll like it.” 

He frowns at you, still not appreciating your joke, but does as you say. Messy as it is, the wrapping tears off in one piece, and Caleb lifts the box lid to reveal a dusky orange binder. Immediately, he recognizes it as your old scrapbook—the one that’d practically been your prized possession growing up.

Carefully, he flips through it. The first few pages are just as he remembers: Caleb, age 12, concentrating on a model airplane you’d given him. A stacked clipboard in his hand while Caleb, age 14, helps you practice for the school spelling bee. You licking the spoon while Caleb, age 17, makes brownies to celebrate your stellar report card.

Warmth blooms in his chest at the familiar photos. But it’s the new ones that make his heartbeat quicken. 

The seventh and eighth pages are filled with moments from the past three years. Moments that he, for all his vigilance, hadn’t even known you’d captured. In the first, he’s lounging on this very couch, watching his necklace glint in the lamplight. In the next, he’s fixing his crooked Fleet hat in the mirror. 

His eyes flit to the largest picture, filling up the bottom half of the seventh page. Taken last year, according to the date scrawled on the film. You’re both in bed, entwined bodies outlined by the dim night-light. And wrapped securely around your waist is Caleb’s arm—his metal arm. He’d done maintenance on it that day, he recalls. It’d been a particularly rough session, and despite his reluctance, you’d walked him back to his room and laid him down on the bed. He’d stopped his protests when you’d crawled in beside him. 

Of course, he remembers that day. But he never expected you to. For you to want to. But as his gaze lands on the caption, spelled out in swooping letters under the photo, he knows he’d been wrong. 

My Caleb.

Inhaling sharply, he turns his searching gaze to you. 

“You always snuck into my room and pulled it out to tease me. Even when you came home on your breaks, until I got mad at you for it. And then the last few times you visited, you never brought it out again,” you start, fiddling with the sleeve of his uniform. 

He runs his thumb across your handwriting. 

“That day…it was tucked away in my nightstand, all the way at the back of the house. So, the firefighters were able to save it. And for a while, this and your necklace…your trophies and a few of your clothes…they were all I had of you. But then you came back, and you didn’t know, and I’ve been adding more.” 

“You kept it all this time?” he asks, but the awed question is more like a statement. 

You give him a bittersweet shrug.

“Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“It’s yours,” you whisper, willing a smile to your face. “You can take it to your office. Flip through it to break up the bad days.”

He smirks wryly. “So every day, you mean.” 

“Maybe. But yes, it’s yours. I don’t need it as much now that I have you beside me. With me. In the way I want.” Looking down in a mixture of shyness and anticipation, you spread his fingers apart and squeeze them shut again, bashfully waiting for his reaction. 

Setting the binder aside, he pulls you into his lap. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and earnest. “For keeping our memories. And for trusting me with them.” 

When you bury your face in his neck, strong arms encircle your waist, his hands rubbing up and down in soothing strokes. For several minutes, you stay just like this, breathing each other in until the rises and falls of your chests sync. 

And then, the upbeat melody of your phone timer slices through the perfect silence. 

Your head pops up like a meerkat’s. “Oh, yay! It’s ready,” you cheer, starting to climb off of him. 

But Caleb’s hands grip your hips, holding you in place. “Can’t we stay here for a while?” he rasps, throat bobbing with longing. “I know the birthday boy. He won’t be mad if the party starts a little late.”

You scoff at his attempt and wriggle out of his grasp. “It may be your birthday, but we’re still following my schedule.”

“Of course,” he sighs, trying to suppress the curl of his lips. “Shouldn’t have dared to think anything different.” 

“That’s right. Now stay in here while I put the toppers on! No peeking,” you yell, strolling into the kitchen. 

He cocks his head playfully. “No peeking, huh? Alright. I’ll give you…ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds? What do you mean ten sec—”

“One,” he calls, the smirk evident in his tone. 

Ten seconds to arrange a proposal. Nine, now.

Your stroll becomes a scurry. 

“Two, three.”

Fumbling with the apple toppers, you center them on the pie, sinking the bigger one’s foot a bit too far into the goop between the braided crust. Whoops.

“Six, seven,” he counts with tantalizing slowness. 

Okay. Okay. The last touch: the ring. With a shaky breath, you retrieve the box from the drawer you’d hidden it in and pull the ring out, carefully settling it around the red apple’s tiny arm. 

“Ten! Officially breaching the no-fly zone. Hold your fire, please!”

When Caleb finally enters the kitchen—he’d walked slower than normal to give you more time, you noticed—a golden pie greets him on the island. Perched atop it are figures of the two apple mascots he’d created—one red and one green, one big and one small. His face lights up in flattered recognition. 

“Thanks, pip-squeak. It looks great and smells even better,” he smiles, reaching up to grab two plates from the cabinet. 

“Thank you, but…I worked so hard on the design! I think you should really take a closer look!” you prod, stomach flipping with sudden nerves. But even through the waves of nausea, you’ve never felt so sure. 

Entertaining your enthusiasm, he sets your plates down and leans over the pie, giving it an overexaggerated inspection. 

“Yep, this latticework is professional quality. You might have a career in—”

Caleb stops.

Freezes.

He freezes because he sees, draped loosely over the arm of the bigger apple, a shimmering platinum ring.

A ring that looks like it’d fit the thick curve of his finger. 

His eyes don’t leave the silvery band. Not even when he starts trembling. 

But after several tense moments of you holding your breath, he turns back to you wearing a mix of emotions: confusion, surprise, hope, love, fear, disbelief. You count them all. You welcome them all. Giving him time before you take a step toward him.

But Caleb takes a step back.

It’s a stumble, really, the way his knees almost buckle in shock. Eyes blown wide and darting all of your body, pleading for some kind of explanation. 

You falter at his retreat. But before the blight of rejection can spread through your chest, he takes two rushed steps forward, as if compensating for his mistake. Guilt joins the myriad of expressions on his face. 

You clear your throat. “…So? What do you think?”

“…Huh?” he splutters. 

From the corner of your eye, you spot his hands twitching at his sides, and you regain the strength to tease him as they clench and unfurl. This is Caleb. “Well if you don't want to accept, I’ll just—”

“No!” he rushes, snapping out of his daze and pulling you into him. “No. It’s just…I…is this what I think it is?” The question is soft, barely more than a whisper, and his voice breaks at the end. He swallows. 

Cupping his cheek in your hand, you nod. Slowly. Deliberately. 

A darling red blooms under his faint freckles, and you have to fight to contain your giggle. He looks like a strawberry. 

A small, confused noise, almost like a lamb’s bleat, escapes him as he gulps again. Tenderly, you raise your other palm to his face and wiggle it lightly, just like when you were kids. “Don’t be nervous. What do you have to be nervous about? It’s just me.”

Between your steady hands, his lips move in a pout. “Just…do you mean it?” he asks, head drooping toward the floor as if he’s afraid to hear the answer. 

“I do.” 

At the implication behind your words, Caleb draws a sharp inhale. Trembling hands enclose your wrists, and shining violet eyes search yours frantically. 

“You want me to be your…” He trails off abruptly, as if choking on the word. Your heart is beating too fast to be healthy, but you’ll be calm for him. He needs this. He needs you. 

“My husband,” you finish for him. “My big, strong, beautiful husband who thinks way too little of himself if he can't see what a catch he is,” you smile. “I love you for a lot of reasons. More than I can count. But the first is that you make me feel safe—safe enough to do this. So, if you’ll have me,” you drawl playfully, trying to balance out his flurry of emotions, “I’d like to marry you, Caleb. And if you won't…” you lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “I guess I’ll just end up alone, then. Because there’s no one else for me.”

There’s no one else for me. He’ll like that. He’ll like it so much, it felt almost cruel to lure him with the line. But you meant every word. 

Until now, you’ve been purposely delicate. Not moving too much or too fast, letting him process and think and feel. And when he collapses in your embrace and buries his head into your shoulder, you know you made the right call. Someone so strong, so, so fragile. 

You can’t imagine how self-conscious he feels. He’d gotten better about it after it brought you to tears last year—he’d kicked himself out to sleep on the couch—but he still tried to hide his vulnerability from you. 

And now, he’s here: the man who wouldn’t even let you see him when he had a cold, sniffling in your arms because you want to marry him. But he fell into you because he needed your comfort, and you’d never withhold it from him. 

“What’s wrong?” you coo, threading your fingers in his soft brown strands. “Did I upset you? Should I not have asked?” 

He tries to speak, but salty tears scald his throat. With a deep breath, he tries again, and the first word is firm despite his shuddering shoulders. “No. It’s not that. I…I’m just frustrated. I should've done it first—I’m so sorry I didn't do it first. Please let me do it—I’ll make it up to you,” he whines.

You kiss his hair. “You have nothing to make up for. I’m just glad I got to catch you off guard for once—you're always ruining my surprises.” 

Gently, you guide him to the nearest bar stool and slightly lift his head. He blinks quickly, but the movement only sends a tear streaking out of his glistening eyes—like morning dew on a field of lilacs. He curses when he feels you wipe the wetness off his cheek, more clumsy apologies falling from his lips, and his frustrated rambling starts before you can shush him. 

“I always wanted this…when I imagined it…I wanted it to be happy. It should be happy, I should be happy, I-I’m so damn happy, pip-squeak,” he breathes, a shaky, self-deprecating laugh escaping. “I love you. More than I ever thought I’d be able to tell you. And I only ever hoped that—that you’d give me the chance to show you how much. I never expected….” 

You return your hands to his damp cheeks. He looks down, inhales, and looks up again. “People don’t usually do these things. Not for me. And now I’m ruining it and being selfish, ‘cause after all those years of watching you, of wanting you…I just can’t believe that you’d—God, I’m sorry, pips.”

“Hey, hey. Look at me. I wanted to do this for you, Caleb. And you know what’s weird?” He shakes his head in your hands. “I wasn't nearly as nervous as I should’ve been. Even if you say no”—he blanches—“I’ll still be glad I asked. Because you deserve it. To have someone care for you, to have someone trust you, to be able to react how you want to and feel how you want to and say no to them if you want to. The ring is yours if you want it. But so is the choice,” you murmur, your own voice wobbling as you smile down at him. “I wanted to do this. Dreamed about it. For you. So you have nothing to be sorry for.”

The uncertainty that flickers in his eyes is quickly drowned by admiration. He nods slowly, your hands moving with the rise and fall of his chin.

“Although…” you continue, side-eyeing the drooping pie toppers. “An answer wouldn’t hurt. The pie filling is like quicksand. I need to rescue the ring before Sunny Apple sinks.” 

Your words win a chuckle from him, and he tenderly presses your foreheads together—a good luck gesture from your childhood, used when one of you was about to do something nerve-wracking. After a moment, he pulls away to cup your face, surveying, admiring, committing every detail to memory.

Caleb looks into your eyes with his still teary ones. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Forever with you isn’t something I could refuse. But nothing will change about the way I love you—it’s always been to the fullest. This just shows you think I’ve earned you.”

Whole body sagging with relief, you collapse onto his seated frame, hugging him as tightly as you did when he came home tonight. This close together, your pulses touch, and their matching thuds echo in your ears as tears of your own slip onto his skin. 

You pull away first, mumbling through tear-sealed lips. “Um, the ring. I should put it on, right?”

“Right,” he whispers, gaze refusing to leave your face.

Nodding, you wipe your eyes and face Sunny Apple, who, despite being buried to the waist in pie filling, still holds the ring valiantly in the air. 

Willing steadiness into your fingers, you lift the ring off the topper’s thin brown arm and turn back to Caleb, who’d been watching the exchange fondly. 

Smiling, you take his left hand in yours, running your thumb over the back of it in a small, lazy circle. And with a final look into his violet eyes, now alight with mirth and intrigue, you slide the platinum band down to the base of his ring finger. 

“Happy birthday, Caleb.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna wear mine?” Caleb asks, coming up to stand behind you in the mirror. 

In the 30 days since his birthday, you’d heard the question about as many times. He hadn’t hesitated to order you a ring of your own, custom-made from the finest jeweler in Skyhaven. But the process wasn’t quick, and the sight of your barren hand irked him—especially when his was so beautifully adorned. 

“Yes, I’m sure. And stop calling them from your Fleet line to ask if they’re finished yet! They’re scared of you,” you giggle, falling back into him. 

Staring at your left hand in the glass, he frowns deeply, and you swear you see his eye twitch. “But it’s empty. We’ve been engaged for a month now, and you don’t have anything to show for it.” 

“I have you to show for it,” you flirt, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Now, let’s take a picture before we go to dinner! I’ll add it to your album when we get back.” 

When you move to leave his arms, Caleb tightens his hold, keeping you in his firm embrace. Instead, you hear the bedside drawer open and shut, and a familiar device floats over to you before you know it. 

“What a convenient fiancé I have,” you quip, plucking your camera from the air. 

“You can go ahead and start sayin’ ‘husband,’ you know. Practice for the real thing.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now smile!”

When the photo develops, two objects on Caleb’s body glint in the evening sunlight. 

A necklace and a ring.

[shaiyasstuff]

fate | rafayel | sequel

synopsis : Who are we to stand in the line of fate? That was what you used to think. content : fluff, rafayel x non-mc!reader, a happy ending since there were so many requests for part two

One bullet.

Clean. Fatal. Head.

Another bullet.

Missed—close, but enough to remind you you were still breathing.

You were back at the range. Again.

It had become your sanctuary. Or maybe your penance.

Five days.

That’s how long it’s been since Shaiya and Rafayel found you curled up on the beach, lost somewhere between sleep and surrender.

Five days since you’d let go of that last fragile thread of hope.

Because whatever you were waiting for—whatever foolish, aching part of you still believed—wasn’t coming.

It never was.

Because who were you to stand in the line of fate?

The echo of gunfire fades, swallowed by the cavernous stillness of the room. You lower the weapon slowly, slipping it back into its holster with practiced ease.

Footsteps behind you.

You don’t need to turn. You already know.

“I’m fine,” you say before she can open her mouth, forcing a smile as you dust off your hands. “You don’t have to check on me like I’m a child.”

Shaiya chuckles, light, warm. “I know. I just…”

She hesitates. “I was worried. You scared me.”

There it is again—that soft pang in your chest. The one that always came when she looked at you like you mattered. Like you were worth something.

Standing in front of you was the girl who unknowingly stood between you and the one thing you couldn’t stop wanting.

And still—you couldn’t hate her. Not when she was like this. Not when her kindness reached you in places nothing else could.

“Rafayel’s been asking about you,” she says casually, and your jaw clenches, just for a second.

You look away.

Of course he has.

But not to you.

He hadn’t shown up since that day—when he left without a word and slammed the door so hard it echoed for hours.

“Did he now,” you murmur, fiddling with your holster again like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Shaiya nods, watching you carefully. “Did something… happen between you two?” she asks gently.

You look at her. She’s calm. Thoughtful.

So perfect it almost hurts.

Would telling her change anything?

Would she understand?

Would it make you feel better, saying it out loud?

Probably not.

So you give her a shrug instead.

“No,” you lie, soft and bitter. “Nothing happened.”

The words burn on your tongue, but you swallow them down with the rest of the things you’ll never say.

She holds your gaze for a moment longer, like she knows there’s more but won’t press.

“I told him he should call you,” she says finally. “He kept brushing it off. Said something about how clueless you can be.”

You freeze.

The world stills for half a second.

That stupid flicker again—hope. Always rising from the ashes, uninvited. You hate it. You need it.

You offer a small smile. “Maybe I’ll talk to him.”

Shaiya grins. “Good. Because he’s driving me crazy. Get him off my back, will you?”

She waves and heads out, leaving you alone in the empty range.

Alone with the echo of her words.

Clueless.

You repeat it under your breath like a riddle.

“What did he mean?”

You don’t notice the shadow behind the wall. The quiet figure watching from just out of sight.

Rafayel.

—•

The moonlight spills like silver ink across your apartment floor as you sink into the couch, muscles heavy with exhaustion. You groan softly, letting your head fall back.

Your hand fishes your phone from your pocket.

11:48 p.m.

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering over nothing.

And then, quietly, you wonder—

What is he doing right now?

Was he annoying Shaiya again, hovering too close in that boyish, oblivious way of his? Was he in his studio, fingers stained with paint, lost in a world he never let you see?

Or was he standing on the other side of your door?

You stand slowly, unsure what draws you forward, only that your feet are already moving. Already at the threshold.

“If he’s there, he’s there,” you mumble, hand on the doorknob. “That’s it.”

But then—

“What if he isn’t?”

And just like that, you pause.

What would you even say if he was?

You’ve never said anything before. Never dared to touch the truth of what you feel.

What makes tonight any different?

You shake your head, scoffing under your breath.

“You dumbass,” you whisper to yourself.

And still, you open the door.

Because even if fate had chosen someone else, even if you were never meant to be written into his story—

Some small, stubborn, reckless part of you wanted to defy it.

Just once.

You squint, eyes adjusting slowly to the pale light pooling in the hallway.

At first, it’s just a silhouette. Then—A familiar mop of tousled lilac hair.

And those eyes—those ridiculous, impossible eyes—somewhere between the ocean before a storm and the sky just before sunrise.

Rafayel.

A boyish grin tugs at his lips when your gaze locks with his.

And you freeze.

He’s here.

He’s really here.

Your heart stutters in your chest, wild and disoriented, as your body stays rooted in place, too overwhelmed to decide what to feel.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, his voice rushed, anxious, as if afraid you’ll shut the door before he can say more.

You blink at him, stunned. Words scatter like leaves in the wind. What is he doing here? After everything, after five days of silence and slammed doors and missed meaning—why now?

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor. “I didn’t know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work through his own confusion.

“How you felt. I mean, I always brushed it off because I thought…”

He trails off, the pause longer than it needs to be, and then—

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

A breath.

“…That way.”

And finally, finally, his eyes meet yours.

The world tilts.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

“Huh?”

That’s all your mouth manages.

Not “what are you saying,” or “why now,” or “you idiot, I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Just that soft, bewildered sound. Like the universe just broke its rules in front of you, and you’re still waiting for the punchline.

He shifts on his feet, lips twitching nervously. “I’m not good at this,” he mutters, half to himself. “But I had to come. Because you opened the door. And I hoped—I really hoped you would.”

And suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re breathing at all.

He grabs your shoulders—not roughly, but with a kind of urgency that makes the world sharpen around the edges. His touch grounds you, and suddenly, you’re sure—

The universe is finally, impossibly, on your side.

“I like you, Y/N. No—wait, I love you,” he says, voice cracking with emotion. “Loved you. All this time.”

His eyes are wide, vulnerable, brimming with something wild and scared. And real.

“I’m sorry I confused you. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he keeps going, the words tumbling out in a rush, like he’s afraid if he stops, this moment might vanish, or worse—you might walk away.

You’re still frozen, heart thundering in your ears, head spinning. But then something snaps inside you—not painfully, just enough to pull you back to the now.

You reach up and place your hands gently on his arms, still gripping your shoulders.

His head jerks up at the touch, eyes locking onto yours—still afraid. Still unsure.

And you smile.

That’s when his worry deepens into panic. Because now there are tears spilling down your cheeks—silent, steady, unstoppable.

“W-Woah, hey—!” he stammers, hands flying up to your face in alarm, wiping at the wetness with shaking fingers. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry—what did I do—?”

You blink, dazed, lifting your own hands to your cheeks. The tears keep falling, and you don’t even remember when they started. You hadn’t planned to cry. You hadn’t planned for any of this.

And then your knees give out beneath you. Not from sorrow this time, but from the sheer weight of relief.

You sink to the floor, breath shuddering as Rafayel catches you, arms instantly wrapping around you like a net made of everything you’ve ever wanted but never dared to ask for.

Your fingers curl into his shirt. Your forehead presses to his chest.

“Is this real?” you choke, voice raw and trembling.

He holds you tighter, as if to prove it, his voice a whisper against your hair.

“It is. I promise you—it is.”

“I thought—”

The sob ripped out of you before you could stop it, raw and trembling, every word soaked in the ache you’d buried for so long.

“I thought you would never see me that way. That it was always going to be Shaiya.”

Your voice cracked at her name, your whole chest twisting with the confession. You looked up at him, face streaked with tears, the question you’d never dared ask burning in your throat.

“You told me that story… the one about your scales—” you choked, the memory of it splintering inside you. “That your heart was bound to hers…”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, devastated.

He shook his head, urgently, as if trying to erase every word you’d just said, every hurt it carried.

“No,” he whispered, hands flying to your cheeks, cradling your face like it was the most fragile, sacred thing in the world.

His thumbs brushed your tears away, and this time he leaned closer, eyes burning into yours with something fierce and unwavering.

“None of that mattered the moment I met you.”

The words landed like lightning in your chest.

“I didn’t know what it was at first,” he went on, voice thick with emotion, “But you—you made me feel like I’d been sleepwalking through every lifetime until this one.”

You stared at him, breath caught, and for the first time in forever, you felt it.

Not just hope.

Certainty.

“Screw fate,” he breathes, voice rough with conviction. “Screw all that.”

His arms tighten around you as he pulls you flush against his chest, like he’s trying to shield you from everything—even the stars.

“You’re the most important to me,” he murmurs fiercely, burying his face into your hair, breath warm against your scalp. “Not some fate-written bullshit. You.”

You tremble in his hold, sobs quieting just enough to feel the way his heart is racing beneath your cheek—fast and real, like it’s beating just for you.

“Stop crying,” he whispers, softer now, voice breaking around the edges. “Shh… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay.”

And this time, when you close your eyes against his shoulder, it’s not in grief.

It’s in the slow, overwhelming realization that maybe—just maybe—this time, love chose you back.

Your head shot up again, breath catching, panic flaring in your chest as your fingers clutched his arm—tight, desperate, enough to make him flinch.

“Shai—”

“She knows,” Rafayel cuts in gently, before you can say another word. “She knew. The whole time.”

You go still. The wind outside could’ve stopped and you wouldn’t have noticed.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Just stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, eyes searching yours, full of guilt and something deeper. “I know how it must’ve looked. How I was always with her. But—” he swallows, his voice catching, “it wasn’t because I loved her.”

He licks his lips, and his hands cradle your face again, his thumbs resting beneath your eyes as if he’s afraid you’ll start crying all over again.

“She was the only one I could go to,” he confesses, voice just above a whisper. “The only one I trusted… to tell how I felt about you.”

It hits you like a wave—sharp, cold, and then warm, like everything you’d been aching for was finally surfacing.

Every moment you thought he was choosing her—

He was only ever trying to understand what you meant to him.

And somehow, she knew before even you did.

“I’m stupid,” he mutters, a sheepish look flickering across his face. “I say things without thinking. I know.”

There’s an apology in his voice, unpolished and honest, as if he’s laying himself bare for the first time.

And despite everything—despite the ache, the confusion, the tears—

a soft, breathy laugh escapes your lips.

It catches you off guard.

Because all at once, the memories rush in—

the way he hovered when you were quiet for too long,

how he always brought your favorite snacks back from missions without asking,

how he’d search the crowd until his eyes found yours, even when Shaiya was right beside him.

The way he always noticed when something was off, even when you said you were fine.

He’d been showing you his heart, clumsily, messily, loudly, and yet—

You convinced yourself it wasn’t real.

You convinced yourself that fate had no room for a love like this.

And maybe… maybe you were wrong.

Rafayel blinked at you, startled by your sudden laughter.

“Did I say something funny?” he asks cautiously, lips curving just slightly, hopeful.

You shake your head, smile trembling through your tears. “No. Just… me. I was so sure none of it meant anything.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“It meant everything,” he whispers.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks, breathless, hopeful, eyes locked onto yours like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

You smile—soft, radiant, a little shaky—and nod.

A wave of relief washes over his face so quickly it nearly makes you laugh again. He exhales, like he’s been holding that breath for years.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent, “how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

And then—he moves.

No hesitation.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, hands cupping your face as his lips find yours.

The kiss isn’t tentative. It isn’t shy or delicate or fleeting.

It’s real.

All the longing you buried in silence, all the moments he loved you without saying a word, all the ache and confusion and heartbreak—

It all crashes together in that single, breath-stealing moment.

It’s not rough, but it’s not gentle either.

It’s everything you both couldn’t say, finally spoken in the language of skin and breath and trembling mouths.

And when he pulls back, just barely, just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, you’re both breathless and smiling and finally, finally seen.

“Still think fate’s unbeatable?” he whispers.

You hit his chest as he chuckles, but you don’t retort.

Because for the first time in a long, long while—you don’t.

masterlist

[stargirlygirl]

How would lads react to mc hitting their arm(in embarassment) in a kissing scene while watching a movie?

star girl's initial words: hello! thank you for sending this in. i usually write for reader (not mc/non-mc specific) so i hope you still like my take on this!

you hit their arm during a movie

⭑.ᐟ zayne

i think zayne would react the same way he reacts when you slap his butt.

you're half-way through the newest episode of love island (i hc that before you came along, zayne was a big fan of reality tv as an outlet from his stressful job (besides from sweets)) when two of the stars start going at it.

you slap his arm, covering your face with your hands, but even that can't block out the making out on screen. the wet smooching sounds act as the perfect background music to your boyfriend flinching so hard he almost jumped off the couch.

squealing at the screen, "noooooo!!! he doesn't even like you, tessa!" you don't notice how rigid zayne's gone as he processes your 'playful' affection.

once the kissing fades, he murmurs, "you can look now." your hands drop into your lap as you refocus on the show. you even cuddle into his side, but quickly take note of the lingering stiffness in his posture.

"everything okay, babe?" you ask sweetly.

he nods slightly, "yes, everything's fine, dear."

you giggle, "m'kay" while tightening your hold on his toned arm. zayne can't find it in himself to tease you when you're embracing him so innocently.

⭑.ᐟ sylus

i think sylus would tease you until you're all flushed (not from the kissing on-screen).

you're cuddled up on the sofa, watching a cheesy romcom when the make out sesh starts. you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder, not wanting to watch saliva being exchanged when you could do that with your own boyfriend.

he smirks while swishing his red wine around in its glass, "what're you hiding for, kitten? never seen two adults kiss before?"

you slap his arm in embarrassment, making him chuckle. the mirthful sound reverberates in his chest, too carefree for you to be upset with him.

the tension on your face dissolves as you try and bite back, "shut up, sy." instead, you sound like a third grader attempting not to laugh at a fart joke.

calming down, he grins, "oh? look it's over now, sweetie." rolling your eyes, you shift into a comfy position to watch the film, albeit, with a slight distance between you and your boyfriend.

sylus doesn't traverse the gap. he just sits there, watching you more than the movie until your cheeks are heating up and you're sliding yourself back to his side (where you belong).

⭑.ᐟ rafayel

i think raf hates romance movies because he could care less about humans falling in love. BUT i do think he can appreciate the artistry of film.

let's say you're at your apartment (does he even own a tv?) and watching pride and prejudice (your recommendation, of course). you're coming to the end, watching mr darcy walk across the brightening field for at least forty seconds.

"how long is he going to walk for—"

"shhh," you cut raf off, pivoting your head to stare at him momentarily. he's slouched, lean arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

turning back to the screen, you bite your knuckles as darcy confesses his feelings for lizzy.

"god, this is boring—"

"raf, shut up!" you're on the edge of your seat, soaking up every longing glance and camera transition until you finally get to the kiss scene.

mr darcy is repeating "mrs darcy" as he smooches lizzy's face so sweetly, reminiscent of the way raf loves to kiss all over your face before he ensnares your lips with his.

and when they finally kiss, you squeal in delight and slap raf's shoulder. he stares at you like you're the most foul bin juice that's dared to stain his silk shirt. but you pay no mind as you lean back and kick your feet gleefully.

once the credits roll, he grumbles, "worst film ever."

you roll your eyes, sassing him back with, "please, you have no taste."

he exclaims, "no taste?! i'll give you 'no taste'—" you shriek as he lunges at you, effectively pinning you to the couch and tickling you until you're crying.

later on, he reluctantly admits just how beautiful the cinematography and acting was.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

xavier pookie would be spooked.

picture it: cosy night in, a candle flickering, dim lights, and a warm blanket spread over both of you. you're watching some romance film because it was your pick tonight (you weren't particularly fond of the gory horror film xav chose last movie night).

xav really did try to stay awake, but he's inevitably dozed off. his head was resting on your shoulder before you shoved him off, and he slumped the other way, never waking, of course.

you're at the good part: the hero pulls the damsel in distress into an emotional kiss. you squeal, bobbing up and down excitedly. but when you glance back at your bf, you see that he's still out of it.

not actually thinking you'd wake him up, you slap his arm. xav jolts awake, his sapphire eyes wide open and arms raised, ready to summon his sword in a heartbeat.

he murmurs, "what happened?" you can't stop yourself from laughing at him. you're bent over, hands pressed to your tummy, practically wheezing as his eyes sweep the room and don't find anything out of the ordinary.

"it-it hurts," you cry out, joyful tears blurring your vision before you wipe them away with shaky fingers. your cheeks ache from your smile.

"why are you laughing?" he deadpans. you shake your head and return to watching the film, hiccuping out the last few giggles.

"just go back to sleep," you grin. xav sighs before wrapping his arms around your midsection and drawing you into his chest.

by the end of the movie, he's fallen asleep again, almost on top of you.

⭑.ᐟ caleb

growing up together, you and caleb have seen your fair share of movie kiss scenes. and, they're always awkward.

why? because i think he's been wanting to ask you to re-enact them with him for most of his life. being his childhood friend/adoptive sister (depending on which language version you play), he's never been able to do that until now.

as the familiar kissing scene comes on screen, you instinctively grab a cushion and position it to block your view of the action. usually, caleb groans from beside you and tries to snatch your pillow to conceal the sight for himself. but this time, after he plucks it out of your hands, he tosses it on the floor.

you stare at him with wide eyes, confused by the intense look he's giving you. with the way his fists clench and unclench, you know he's hiding something.

"what is it?" you ask quietly. caleb shakes his head, resolving to forget the stupid thought poking at the back of his mind.

"nothing," he mumbles, settling back on the couch and enduring the painstaking sight of smooching. you shift over to him and grab his hand.

holding it tenderly, you ask, "tell me," and add as an afterthought, "please." he shakes his head again. you don't like that. climbing onto his lap, you cup his reddening cheeks in your hands and force him to meet your gaze.

"caleb," you say like a warning.

he sighs, "fine. just wanna know if you'd wanna recreate the action on-screen with me."

you gasp, "caleb!" as you slap his shoulder playfully.

"'what?" he asks, all alert, like you're under attack by a wanderer.

you wave your finger in his face, tutting, "naughty, naughty boy. you just wanted an excuse to kiss me, didn't you?" he stutters out incoherent syllables, making you giggle. you shut him up by pecking the corner of his mouth before capturing his parted lips in a cocky loving kiss.

[letthemkook]

Vigil J.jk - Part 1

Pairing: Obnoxious Rich Boy Jungkook x Powerless Reader
Genre: Dark Romance, Obsession, Angst, Forced Proximity
Themes: Power Imbalance, Class Difference, Emotional Manipulation

Warnings: Yandere!Jungkook, Hesitant MC

Intro: He’s the heir. You’re the help.

You were taught to serve.

Jungkook was never taught limits.

Now he wants you,

and he doesn’t plan to ask twice.

.

.

.

Part 1: King’s Pawn Opening

The Jeon estate is as beautiful as it is terrifying.

Your mother has worked there since before you could walk — cleaning, cooking, tending to guests she’s never allowed to speak to unless spoken to first. And since you were about ten, you started helping her on weekends and summers.

That’s when you met him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Heir to the Jeon fortune. Golden boy of Seoul’s elite. Tall, stunning, filthy rich, and the single most infuriating person you’ve ever met.

Even as a child, he looked at you like you were something to command.

“You missed a spot,” he’d say, pointing at nothing just to watch you wipe the same section of floor twice.

“You walk too loud.”

“Don’t touch that. That’s mine.”

It didn’t matter that you were only a year younger. In his world, you were beneath him. A servant’s daughter. A fixture of his house. A thing he could control.

You hated it.

You hated him.

But you never said no.

Your mother made sure of that.

“Do what the young master says,” she whispered whenever you flinched at his voice. “Don’t make trouble. Don’t give them a reason.”

So you obeyed.

Every. Time.

Even when he stole your notebook and made you beg for it back. Even when he told his friends you were his little housemaid and laughed when they called you cute. Even when he made you sit outside his room and wait for him just so he could hand you a candy and say, good girl.

By the time you’re both eighteen, you’ve almost perfected tuning him out.

Almost.

Until he changes.

It starts with small things.

“You forgot to say good morning,” he says one day, standing in the kitchen in his silk robe and bare feet. “Don’t be rude.”

Then:
“Why didn’t you smile when I came in? You only smile for my mom now?”

Then worse:
“I want a hug.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“A hug,” he says, stepping closer. “You know, arms around me, warmth, that thing people do when they like each other.”

“You’re insane.”

He shrugs. “You’re obligated.”

Your voice wavers. “I’m not.”

He smiles — slow, amused, dangerous.

“No? So you don’t care what happens to your mom’s job?”

You freeze.

His grin widens like he loves watching you fall silent.

“Come here,” he says, voice dipped in honey. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But your feet still move.

And when his arms slide around you — warm, possessive, firm — he sighs like he’s finally getting something he’s waited years for.

“See?” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re so good at doing what you’re told.”

You stay stiff.

He pulls back, but not far. His hands rest on your waist now, too familiar, too much.

“Next time,” he says, eyes dropping to your mouth, “you’ll kiss me good morning too.”

You jerk back. “You can’t—!”

“I can,” he interrupts calmly. “And I will.”

Then he steps past you like nothing happened, calling over his shoulder:

“See you tomorrow, baby.”

And the worst part?

You will.

Because you can’t say no.

Not to Jungkook.

Not in this house.

——-

Jungkook is insatiable.

It’s like the moment he realized he wanted you, he stopped pretending it was anything less than obsession.

Now, every time you step foot in the Jeon estate, you brace yourself.

Because it’s never just “can you grab that” or “clean this up” anymore.

Now it’s:
“Come sit with me while I finish my homework.”
“Put your head here—on my shoulder. No, I said here.”
“I want a kiss. Just one. Hurry up, I’m busy.”

It’s always phrased like a joke.

But the threat is never far behind.

Like the time he dragged you into the home theater room after his parents left for a business gala.

You were just there to drop off laundry, but he was sprawled across the velvet seats, arms out like a prince waiting to be adored.

“Stay,” he said without looking up. “Movie night.”

“I’m not allowed to—”

He cut you off with a lazy smile. “What are you gonna do, say no? Want me to go tell my mom your mom’s been slacking?”

Your hands clenched at your sides.

He patted the seat next to him.

You sat.

He draped a blanket over your legs. Ordered your favorite snacks like he hadn’t memorized them years ago. Let you pick the movie. Rested his hand on your thigh halfway through like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t move it.

Couldn’t.

Your chest was tight with so many feelings you couldn’t name: fear, fury, and something awful that tasted like want.

Now it’s a routine.

He texts you whenever he wants you. Calls you “baby” or “puppy” like you’re something docile. Something owned.

Today, it’s worse.

You’re wiping down the dining room table when he walks in with bedhead and a smug smirk.

“I didn’t get my kiss this morning.”

You pause, eyes on the glass in your hand.

He steps closer.

“Don’t make me ask twice.”

Your jaw tightens. “There are other people here.”

“So?”

Your heart races.

He corners you slowly, hands sliding onto your hips like he’s done it a thousand times. His breath brushes your cheek. You feel your pulse jump and you hate that he feels it too.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “Just one. Be good.”

And the worst part?

You are.

You tip your chin up, cheeks burning, and press the quickest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He hums, satisfied.

But then his hand catches your jaw.

“Mm-mm. That’s not what I asked for.”

You look up — breath caught.

He leans in, pressing a slow, real kiss to your lips. Deeper than it should be. Longer than it needs to be.

When he pulls back, your head is spinning.

“That’s better,” he whispers, thumb brushing your lip. “You’re learning.”

You step back like you’ve been burned.

He just laughs and walks away like he didn’t just take another piece of you with him.

.

.

.

He gets jealous over the dumbest things.

You don’t even realize it at first — you just mention offhand that the new intern in the kitchen, Minjae, helped you carry in groceries this morning. He’s nineteen, like you. Polite. Smiles a lot.

And you say it without thinking.

Without fear.

You’re getting too comfortable.

Because later that day, when you go upstairs to organize the study like your mom asked, Jungkook is already there. Sitting behind the desk like it’s a throne, legs spread, fingers tapping slowly against his knee.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not at first.

He just watches you.

And when you finally break the silence with a small, “Did you need something?”, he leans back in the chair and says flatly:

“You like him?”

You blink. “Who?”

He tilts his head. “Minjae.”

You freeze.

He smiles — cold.

“So you do.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you smiled when you said his name earlier. You never smile like that when you talk about me.”

You exhale, trying to keep calm. “Jungkook, I—”

He stands.

Walks toward you slowly, like a lion circling prey. You instinctively step back until your spine hits the bookshelf.

“You’re not allowed to act like you’re mine,” he says, voice low, “and then make me feel like I’m not yours.”

“I never—”

He cuts you off by slamming a hand next to your head on the shelf, leaning in close.

“You really think it’s cute? Making me jealous? Making me wonder what you’d do if someone else told you to kiss them?”

“I didn’t—”

“Apologize.”

You stare up at him, heart pounding, anger and fear tangled in your throat.

“For what?”

“For making me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

That stings.

Because he always makes you feel like you’re the one who doesn’t measure up. But now he’s turned the table. Like youowe him something.

You can’t win.

So you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He leans in closer. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For… making you jealous.”

He smiles now — a dark, satisfied kind of smile.

“Good girl.”

Then his hand wraps around your jaw, not rough, but firm, and he kisses you again — hard this time, claiming. Frustrated. Not because he wants to comfort himself, but because he wants to remind you who you belong to.

When he pulls back, his voice is soft.

“Next time you so much as smile at another guy, I’ll make sure you regret it. Got it?”

You nod, lips tingling, stomach twisting.

And he kisses your forehead like you’re something delicate — a precious object in a glass case that only he gets to touch.

“Don’t make me jealous again, baby. I don’t handle it well.”

.

.

.

.

You ignore his texts.

Just for one morning. One blissfully quiet, carefully calculated morning. No "Good morning, baby." No showing up when he calls you to “help” in his room. No kissing his cheek in greeting like a trained pet.

You stay with your mom in the kitchen instead, head down, helping prep trays for the garden luncheon his mother’s hosting.

You laugh at something Minjae says.

You smile when he compliments the way you arrange the pastries.

And for a few hours, you feel normal. Like a regular girl working a regular job in a house that doesn’t own you.

But the high doesn’t last.

Because Jungkook notices.

Of course he notices.

He walks into the garden mid-luncheon, hands in his pockets, sunglasses perched on his head like a crown, expression unreadable — except for the dangerous stillness in his eyes when he sees you standing beside Minjae.

You freeze.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just turns around and walks back into the house.

You feel it like a command.

And sure enough — ten minutes later, one of the butlers approaches you.

“You’re needed upstairs,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “Young Master Jeon requested you.”

Your blood runs cold.

You follow the hall to Jungkook’s room, heart hammering.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed when you walk in, a water bottle in his hand, jaw clenched like he’s waiting for an excuse.

“Hey,” you say carefully.

He doesn’t respond.

You try again. “You wanted me?”

He stands slowly. Walks toward you.

“Where the hell were you all morning?”

“I was helping—”

“With Minjae?” he snaps. “Laughing? Smiling like he earned it? Ignoring me like I don’t own you?”

Your voice shakes. “You don’t own me.”

His laugh is bitter. Cold.

“You think you get to say that? After everything I’ve given you?” He steps closer, his voice low and furious. “You think you can just ignore me?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Take your hoodie off.”

You blink. “What?”

“My hoodie. You’re wearing it. Take it off.”

You hesitate. He glares.

You pull it off slowly, standing in your tank top beneath it, exposed in more ways than one.

He tosses the water bottle aside and grips your waist, backing you up until your knees hit the bed.

“You’re going to apologize,” he says.

You shake your head. “I already did yesterday—”

“No. I want you to show me you’re sorry.”

And before you can react, he opens the door — wide — revealing Minjae standing at the end of the hallway with a tray in hand.

Jungkook calls over your shoulder:

“Come back later. She’s busy.”

Then slams the door.

You stare at him in horror.

“You—!”

“I warned you,” he says calmly. “Don’t make me jealous. Don’t ignore me.”

“You humiliated me.”

He shrugs. “Now we’re even.”

You feel rage build in your chest, humiliation and helplessness mixing like poison in your throat.

But he just leans in, brushing his lips over your temple.

“You don’t get to pretend I don’t exist, sweetheart. Not anymore.”

And when he kisses you, it’s punishing.

A punishment he expects you to accept.

Because he always gets what he wants.

And what he wants — is you.

[a-casxandra]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃

Zayne's pov | the other side of the story

[Part 1]

You had always been the brightest part of Zayne’s life.

Three years. Three years of quiet breakfasts before dawn shifts, sleepy forehead kisses in the locker room, walking each other home under flickering streetlights. He wasn’t a man of words, but with you, he never needed them. You understood his silences. You understood him.

He had been planning it for months now. The proposal.

The ring sat in his desk drawer at Akso Hospital, hidden beneath files of bypass patients and transplant rosters. Platinum band, simple diamond—just like you. Understated, beautiful, eternal.

He was going to ask you to marry him after he saved MC.

MC. His childhood friend. Practically a little sister.

When she came in with her worsening heart condition, he felt responsible. She had no family left, no one to stay by her side. And Zayne… he was a doctor. He was her doctor. It was his duty to be there.

That day you walked in on them, the day everything shattered—

Zayne remembered the moment in blinding clarity.

“You should eat more vegetables.” he said, setting down MC’s lunch tray. It was bland, tailored for her condition, but necessary.

“Says the doctor who hates carrots,” MC teased, reaching out and flicking his wrist. Then she paused, silent for a moment, looking at him with unreadable eyes.

“Zayne… thank you. For always being here.”

“Of course.” He smiled faintly, busy checking her IV drip.

And then, without warning, her fingers curled around his collar and pulled him down. Her lips pressed against his. It lasted barely a second before Zayne jerked back, stunned.

“MC—what are you doing?” His voice was firm, almost cold.

That’s when the door opened. And there you were.

Your eyes widened. Your face crumpled with heartbreak before you turned and fled.

“Wait—[Name], it’s not what it looks like!”

He ran after you, his chest aching with panic. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to propose to you after MC’s surgery. After everything was calm again.

In the silent hallway, he grabbed your wrist. “Please—listen to me. Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!?” you snapped, tears filling your eyes. “Does our three years together mean nothing to you, Zayne?”

“No—no, that’s not it. Please… don’t make me choose between you two.”

Because how could he choose between his entire world—you—and the life of a girl who saw him as her last hope? MC was family. She was a little sister, a patient. Someone he swore to save.

“Why? Because you’ll choose her…?”

Your voice trembled. Shattered. And he couldn’t find the words. He reached out, but you stepped back, the distance between you widening into a chasm that he couldn’t cross.

Afterwards, he went to MC’s room.

She sat up, clutching her sheets. “I’m sorry… I just… I thought maybe… you…”

Zayne shook his head. His eyes were cold, clinical. “Don’t misunderstand. You’re like a sister to me. I’m your doctor. My only responsibility is to save you. Nothing more.”

MC’s tears fell freely, but he didn’t comfort her. Because his heart belonged to only one person.

You.

Zayne planned to fix things after her surgery. To save MC’s life, clear the misunderstanding, and finally propose to you. He imagined kneeling before you in your shared apartment, holding the ring with trembling fingers, telling you everything he never said enough.

But fate was cruel.

“Where’s [Name]?” zayne asked immediately after the operation ended. Thanks to the last-minute donor, MC was stable. Her vitals strong. Relief flooded his body, because now—now he could go to you.

But the nurses wouldn’t meet his eyes. Dr. Greyson’s expression was tight with grief.

“Greyson. Where is she?” Zayne demanded, his voice trembling for the first time in years.

Greyson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Come with me.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, each step echoing like a funeral march. When they entered the donor room, Zayne felt his chest tighten.

On the table lay a body covered in white sheets. He approached with shaking hands, gripping the edge before Greyson slowly pulled the blanket back.

And there you were.

Still. Silent. Beautiful, even in death.

“No… no, no, no, no—” Zayne choked, falling to his knees. He clutched your cold hand, tears splashing onto your pale skin. His thumb brushed the empty spot on your finger, the spot where he planned to place your ring.

He reached into his pocket with shaking fingers, pulling out the velvet box. Opening it, he slipped the ring onto your stiff hand, pressing his forehead against it as sobs tore through his chest.

“I was supposed to propose to you… I was supposed to spend forever with you…” His voice cracked. “Why… why did you leave thinking I didn’t love you? God… [Name], I love you. I love you so much.”

But it was too late.

No surgery could fix this. No time could undo this. You were the cut that always bleeds—and now, the wound would never close.

He loved you.

Zayne only loved you.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲...

Author's note : so.. I don't think i made this angsty enough...

[uyuforu]

❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。 ༻ Astro Observations XI ༺ ❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Union Asteroid in Natal Chart

જ⁀➴ Groom/ Briede/ Juno Aspects in Natal Chart

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations X

❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。 ❀°。❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° 。 • *₊°。

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⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Natal Chart

❀ I read somewhere that Aries Rising often ignore people, even the closest people. My sister does that often, and she is also Aries Rising. ❀

❀ Also, the Rising sign and degree can say often how you look, your appearance but don't forget planets and other placements in your 1H! ❀

❀ Moreover, the Ruler of your Rising can also tell a lot about your appearance, meaning the sign and house placements of your Ruler. ❀

❀ I also noticed that whenever the Sun or Venus was transiting my 1H I was changing something on my appearance. It can also just be me adopting a new way to do my hair or my make up, etc. ❀

❀ Having Aries Descendant is a sign you'll have a spouse who will make you realize you are too nice, you are too generous with others, and they will teach you it's okay to tell people to go f*ck themselves. ❀

❀ Men who have Virgo Rising are the finest in my opinion, perhaps because I'm Virgo Venus but girl they are just so neat and take care of themselves so much, it's so refreshing. ❀

❀ Moreover, Virgo Rising men often age like fine wine. Their hot era is never ending. Just take Benjamin Bratt as an example. ❀

❀ If Pluto transiting your Natal Chart will give you clarity over which house it transits, and it will also be a huge transformation in it. I have it in my 4H, and I can tell you I see my family differently and learn a lot of hidden things. It hits like a b*tch. ❀

❀ Can we stop generalizing MC signs ? Cancer MC doesn't mean necessarily the person will do a job related to taking care of others. The sign over your MC is often a way to describe your needs in a career, but the planets in the 10h and the sign it is in matters, AND the ruler of the 10H as well. ❀

❀ Saturn conjunct Juno often means you'll marry your destined person later in life, and you could also meet later in life as well. ❀

❀ Juno conjunct Chiron is a sign your FS is wounded, in depression, or that they will need to heal to be with you. Being with your Future Spouse could also require a lot of sacrifices. ❀

❀ 4H Ruler in 7H people could often depend on their partner emotionally. They can also be the kind of person to want to only settle down with a partner. ❀

❀ Saturn 7H can have the same effect as Venus conjunct Saturn , you could have a delay in your love life, or find yourself having many lessons about it. You could have to live some failed relationships or romantic interactions in your early life, yet perhaps around your Saturn Return, you could have a better and long lasting love life. ❀

❀ Jupiter conjunct Saturn 7H could mean a delay in your marriage, perhaps marrying close to your 30's, but it could also mean after being married, your life will be very good, and you'll gain a lot because of marriage, and perhaps a lot of knowledge and wisdom as well. ❀

❀ I feel like even if you try hard, you'll never really know someone with Sun 8H/12H. They are quite good at showing exactly what they want you to see. ❀

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Synastry

❀ Rising conjunct Venus often means Venus person will think Rising person is their ideal type. ❀

❀ I often found that when it's not a romantic connection, Sun in 7H Synastry is not a good relationship, yet often a toxic one. Sun person can tend to hate 7H person. ❀

❀ I feel like 2H, 6H & 10H are really underrated houses in Synastry. I think it's really good to have those houses, mostly if big 3 are there. ❀

❀ Sun conjunct Venus often makes the Sun person think Venus person is very attractive. They could also find Venus very charming and their type. ❀

❀ I often saw Juno 1H Synastry when there was love at first sight between two people. Often Juno person having love at first sight for 1H person. ❀

❀ Venus/ Juno/ Jupiter is very beneficial for "finding the house person good looking", and often if you have those planets in someone's 1H or conjunct their Rising, they will be your type. ❀

❀ Every time I had a friend who wanted to befriend me and who was also someone I got along with so much, they have a Stellium in my 11H. ❀

❀ Sun 12H Synastry can possibly make the 12H person forget about you often. ❀

❀ In some relationships, Venus in the 12H can say that 12H person doesn't feel the love Venus person try to give them, and could also feel unloved. ❀

❀ Moon conjunct Saturn can also be that Moon person feel totally misunderstood by Saturn person, or they could feel judged often by Saturn person. ❀

❀ Mars 3H can mean Mars person can often know the right words to hurt 3H person, they can speak to them in a harsh way as well. ❀

❀ Sometimes 12H placements aren't that bad, so take it with a grain of salt. For example, my mother has a Stellium in my 12H, and we are very connected. ❀

❀ Sun conjunct Jupiter often makes the two natives adore each other, they often get along very well, laugh together but also they often share the same opinion. Jupiter person often teach a lot of valuable lessons to Sun person. ❀

❀ Chiron conjunct Moon often means Chiron person will hurt Moon's feelings. I have this aspect with my uncle, he often is harsh with his words. I was scared of him when I was little. ❀

❀ Sun 8H can mean 8H person can feel like Sun person doesn't like them. ❀

❀ Moon 12H in Synastry can often tell us that Moon person will struggle to say to 12H person how they feel, or often share personal things about them. Though, it can also be a sign of deep spiritual connection. ❀

Thank you for reading!

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[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Caleb seeing you again, post break up (?)

Imagine he did not mean to be here.

Imagine the city of skyheaven had long been erased from his itinerary, scraped from every plausible route like a wound he refused to scratch.

Imagine he knew better than to tempt fate. Knew better than to stand too close to the place that once smelled like your perfume and gun oil and rain.

Imagine and yet. The city was the same and entirely different. Bigger now. Shinier. He hated that.

Imagine he hadn't walked these streets since the day they pulled him from the wreckage, burned and half breathing and told him it would be easier, for everyone, if he stayed dead. That silence was the best protection. That ghosts could not be hunted.

and Imagine he agreed. He agreed, because your name was the only thing he could still speak through the pain.

and Imagine if staying away meant you would never have to cry at another hospital door again, then so be it. He could live with the silence. He could die in it, too.

Imagine he thought he could. Until he saw you. You weren't supposed to be there. Not here. Not now. But there you were, standing across the street like some cruel hallucination. Laughing.

and Imagine next to you, a man. Broad shouldered. Close. Familiar enough to trigger something deep and wrong in Caleb's chest.

Imagine you laughed at something he said, head tilted toward him. Natural. Effortless. You looked like you had healed. And Caleb had never felt so ruined.

Imagine, for a moment, he thought the ground might fall out beneath him. His mind scrambled trying to rationalize, trying to remember how to breathe. Had he missed something? Had someone told him you'd moved on? Were you married now? Engaged? Happy? And then came the worst part. He had no right to ask.

Imagine he had given that up. The day he chose to disappear, he buried every version of your future that included him in it. That had been the cost of your safety. Of Pips', MC safety. Of peace.

Imagine he had told himself you were better off.

Imagine he told himself the grief would fade, that you would move on. He had even prayed for it on nights when the pain crawled up his throat and took the shape of your name.

but Imagine, he didn't think it would hurt like this.

Imagine the way his fingers curled into fists at his side. Something inside him screamed to cross the road. To say your name once, just once, and fall to his knees in front of you like a man who finally realized what he had truly lost.

but Imagine, what would he even say? 'I'm sorry I let you bury me.' 'I'm sorry I let you cry.' I'm sorry I'm still breathing and too much of a coward to tell you that I never stopped loving you.' No. He couldn't do that to you.

Imagine you looked okay. Whole. Even if it was an illusion, it was one he wouldn't shatter. So he took a step back. Then another. His heart was still frozen on your laugh.

Imagine that is when he heard it. "Caleb." It wasn't your voice. Just a whisper from behind him. A contact. A handler. A tie to the life he lived now. One that didn't have room for love, or futures or the girl across the street he once promised to come home to.

but Imagine, it was enough. The name was enough. Because you turned.

because Imagine, even through the chaos of the street, the tide of the city moving like static between you. You heard it. Your head lifted. Your gaze swept the crowd. Searching. For him.

Imagine the way his lungs seized. The way he turned before you could find him. And still, he felt your eyes chasing him long after he vanished into the crowd.

Imagine, at the same time your cousin said, nudging your elbow. "Come on. They're setting up for the memorial soon. You don't wanna be late for your own pilgrimage." You smiled faintly. "It's not a pilgrimage."

Imagine the way your cousin glanced at you. "You visit the same place every year. Same street. Same cafe. Same lantern." Your smile faded. "Maybe that's how I remember him."

Imagine today was Caleb's death anniversary.

Imagine you didn't want to think about the years that had passed. About how many anniversaries you had survived since that day. Since the explosion. Since the call. Since they handed you his tags in a sealed envelope with no body to bury.

Imagine you didn't talk about how the nightmares stayed for months. Or how you stopped wearing anything with sleeves because the fabric reminded you of holding his hand in that hospital once, cold and bloodied, before you ever said I love you out loud.

Imagine you walked the city with your cousin because you didn't trust yourself to do it alone. Because every corner of Skyheaven remembered him. And because grief, when shared, felt a little less like drowning.

but Imagine, this year something shifted. You laughed. The joke wasn't even that funny. Something about the train maps. But it spilled out of you anyway, unfiltered. Genuine. And you hated how foreign it felt.

Imagine it felt like you were betraying him. Like joy was something he wouldn't recognize on you anymore.

then Imagine, as if summoned by your guilt, you heard it. His name. Caleb. Soft. Behind you. Half lost in the wind. And something in your chest broke open.

Imagine, you turned. Eyes scanning the crowd like a reflex. For one heart stopping second, your lungs forgot how to breathe. You didn't know what you were looking for. You didn't even let yourself believe. But your soul reached for something. For someone.

but Imagine there was no one. Just the city, like always. Just people moving on. Just the silence that followed you every year.

Imagine the way you blinked back the sting in your eyes and caught your cousin looking at you. He didn't ask. He never did. He just offered his hand. And you took it.

but Imagine, you glanced back one more time before following him down the street. The ache in your chest whispered that you had missed something. Or someone.

Imagine the name you hadn't said in months tasted like ash when you spoke it again. "Caleb."

and Imagine, somewhere in the crowd behind you, the ghost you mourned kept walking. Alive. But too far gone to return.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

[vervee]

And I'm smarter than you

Summary - Reincarnated into a dating sim as a toddler side character, you vowed to avoid the main plot at all costs. Step one: emotionally terrorize your future love interest neighbor with carrot cake and petty warfare. Morals are optional—survival is not.

Warnings in General - MDNI, Mature themes, blood, gore, violence, drugs, death, human experimentation, etc...

previously

Okay, so maybe you were exaggerating a little when you first got reborn.

But in your defense—anyone would’ve lost it after finding out reincarnation is actually real.

Especially considering how you died. Like, seriously? Out of all the ways to go out, it had to be a goddamn Costco truck?

Not a peaceful nap, not old age—Costco.

And let’s not even get started on where you landed. Of all places, it just had to be Love and Deepspace. Really? You couldn’t have been sent to Harry Potter or something? Fulfill your lifelong dream of finally getting your Hogwarts letter?

BUT NOOOO.

The universe said: Get in, loser, you’re going to a dating sim—and you’re not even the main character!

But hey. Silver linings.

Your new parents? Loaded. Actually rich rich.

Something you never got to experience in your first life, no matter how much you loved your real parents.

Your new mom—Miriam—is a fashion designer, which basically means you’ve been her personal baby doll since day one.

And to be fair, she’s got taste. The fits? Immaculate. She could make a paper bag look runway-ready.

Your new dad, James, is a financial wizard or day trader or stock bro or something—whatever it is, it prints money.

The man would hand you the moon if you batted your eyelashes at him long enough.

Three years in, and honestly? Life’s been easy. Sickeningly so. You’ve even started to—ugh—warm up to your new parents.

They’re… good people.

The kind that do brunch charity events and recycle properly and actually spend time with their kid.

They earned their money the honest way and, more importantly, didn’t give you any weird vibes.

So yeah. If there was one downside to your cushy, reincarnated existence?

It was the damn neighbors.

Because of course your mom had to become besties with one of the love interests' moms.

Of course she had to start arranging playdates.

Like you hadn’t already decided you wanted nothing to do with the main character’s messy-ass love life.

You’d rather chew on Legos than get wrapped up in some swoony, heart-wrenching plotline you already know ends in tears—or worse, true love.

To be fair, Mrs. Li is sweet. Mr. Li too, when he's around. You don’t even fully hate Zayne—he’s not the worst toddler in the world.

But still. The stakes are high. You’ve read the fan theories. You know how fragile the plotline is in this game.

Flick a lightswitch the wrong way, and boom—you’ve accidentally altered someone’s route and set the MC up for heartbreak.

You were a supporting character, and you were determined to stay that way.

Unfortunately… destiny doesn’t take “no thanks” for an answer.

It was one of those days again.

Your mom was in the kitchen, humming to herself while cleaning up a few dishes.

Meanwhile, you were busy struggling with your black mary janes—because you were a big girl, thank you very much.

Being reborn with a full, fleshed-out adult brain crammed into a toddler’s body was honestly the worst curse ever.

Learning how to walk again under layers of stubborn baby fat had tested your patience more than college finals ever did.

But hey, you were up and mobile before most kids could even say “alphabet.”

Naturally, James and Miriam were over the moon about raising a “genius.” They bragged about you like it was a competitive sport.

But that wasn’t important right now.

As you wrestled your second shoe into submission, Miriam’s voice called out from down the hall.

“Honey, why don’t you start heading over by yourself? I might be a while,” she said, waving you off with one soapy hand. “And remember to share the dessert you asked for with Zayne!”

Letting a three-year-old wander the neighborhood alone? Normally a red flag.

But this wasn’t just any neighborhood—you lived in a gated community.

The kind where the only real danger was Karen down the street not getting her oat milk delivered on time.

“I will!” you chirped, grabbing the dessert box sitting neatly by the door.

Now, you're probably wondering—what kind of dessert did I get?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

If the universe was going to keep screwing with you, then it was only polite to return the favor.

After all, you had one mission: avoid getting tangled up in the Love and Deepspace storyline.

No friendships, no flirtations, no chance for the Love Interests to remember you once their hormone-fueled arcs began.

And how do you accomplish that?

Simple.

You become insufferable.

Make yourself as forgettable—or better yet, as irritating—as possible.

The first step? Be a little menace.

Good thing for you…

You were valedictorian in being a little shit.

You approached the Li family’s front door and knocked, because, well—your arms were too short to reach the doorbell. Baby limbs were the worst.

Mrs. Li answered a moment later, smiling warmly when she saw you. “Oh, you’re here early,” she said, crouching to pat your head like you were a puppy.

You responded with one of your gold medal-winning smiles, the kind that melted adult hearts like butter on a hot pan.

“Hi, Mrs. Li!” you chirped in your most high-pitched, syrupy voice, lifting the dessert box proudly. “I brought a snack for me and Zayne today!”

Zayne, the unfortunate victim of your reincarnation coping mechanism, was roughly two years older than you.

That would make you eleven by the time the Chronorift Catastrophe happened and twenty-five when the main storyline of Love and Deepspace kicked off.

You weren’t planning on dying just because some cosmic tunnel opened up and spilled out nightmare fuel with abs.

You hoped you'd awaken an evol eventually, something cool and plot-armory—but with your luck?

Probably something like “minor healing” or “turning socks into doves.”

Useless.

Mrs. Li stifled a laugh. “I’m so glad you and Zayne get along so well!” she beamed, stepping aside to let you in. “He’s in the living room. Go ahead and share your dessert—I’ll bring you two some juice.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Li~” you said sweetly, gliding into the house like the benevolent chaos deity you were.

From what you remembered, Zayne had a serious sweet tooth.

Publicly, the two of you were seen as angelic childhood besties. Privately? You were an emotional terrorist, and Zayne was your favorite victim.

Even with his quiet, deadpan personality, the boy had a heart softer than a melted marshmallow. One teary-eyed pout from you was enough to send him into mild panic mode. And you used that power responsibly. By which you mean: never.

“Zaaayne, I’m here~” you called out sing-songily, entering the living room.

There he was, sitting neatly on the sofa with a book in his lap. Classic.

Zayne glanced up, blinking. “Oh. Hello,” he said flatly.

You felt your eye twitch. ‘This brat should be honored I even acknowledge him,’ but your grin didn’t slip an inch.

You sauntered over to the coffee table and placed the dessert box down with flair. “I brought cake from the bakery,” you announced with fake cheerfulness, lifting the lid with a dramatic flourish. “Just for us.”

Zayne’s eyes lit up. Hook, line, sinker.

“What kind?” he asked, closing his book and setting it aside.

You took a breath, suppressing a wicked giggle.

If there was one thing Zayne hated...

“Carrot cake~!” you sang.

And just like that, Zayne went still. Like someone had hit the pause button on his soul. You literally saw his light die for a second.

Perfect.

The future top surgeon, breaker of hearts, was currently being undone by a vegetable.

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. “I see,” he muttered, returning to his book. “In that case, you can have my slice.”

You gasped, scandalized. “Huh?! But Zayne—I brought this for you!” you cried, mustering your most tragic pout.

“You shouldn’t have,” he said, not looking up. “I don’t like carrots.”

Oof. Brutal.

But you were just getting started. “But Zaaayne,” you whined, dragging out his name with enough drama to rival a soap opera death scene.

Let the emotional manipulation games begin.

Zayne didn’t look up from his book, but you could see the tiniest twitch in his brow. A crack in the calm. He hated being whined at.

“You know I don’t like carrots,” he said flatly.

“Maybe your taste buds are wrong,” you huffed, scooting closer on the couch.

“They’re not.”

“Yes, they are! You’re just saying that because you’ve never had good carrot cake before,” you countered, waving a fork around like it was a mic during a presidential debate.

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it,” you said, your tone turning stern. “You’re skin and bones. This has vitamins in it.”

He finally looked up, deadpan as ever. “You’re three.”

“And I’m smarter than you.”

“You’re not.”

“I literally knew how to read before I could wipe myself.”

Zayne blinked. “That’s... really weird.”

Before you could whip out another top-tier comeback, the sound of footsteps made both of you go still.

Mrs. Li appeared in the doorway holding two juice boxes. “Is everything okay in here?”

You whipped your head toward her, smiling like a tiny, cake-wielding angel.

Zayne, meanwhile, started to open his mouth—probably to tell the truth, the traitor—but you acted fast.

Too fast.

You stabbed your fork into the slice of carrot cake and shoved it straight into his mouth.

Zayne froze, eyes wide, cheeks stuffed with moist, frosted betrayal.

You turned to Mrs. Li and beamed sweetly. “I’m just feeding Zayne! He told me he loves carrot cake!”

Mrs. Li’s smile widened, completely sold. “Aww, that’s so sweet! I love that you’re sharing!”

Zayne let out a muffled sound of horror.

And that?

That was the moment your villain arc officially began.

Because as Mrs. Li walked off, humming happily to herself, you leaned in close and whispered smugly, “Now Zayne, you wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings by not eating the cake now would you?”

Zayne glared at you, his eyes screaming betrayal, but he swallowed.

Victory. Was. Yours.

You took another bite of cake, kicked your feet happily, and sipped your juice like it was the blood of your enemies.

Let the war begin.

Now, terrorizing a literal child was a new kind of low—even for you.

But let’s be honest: that moral discussion flew right out the window the moment your survival became the top priority.

You didn’t ask to get reincarnated. You didn’t ask to be dropped into the prologue of a dating sim known for heartbreak, emotional trauma, and slow burn lovers tropes so intense they could level entire civilizations.

You were doing what any rational former-college-student-now-toddler would do in your position: securing your safety with tactical pettiness and psychological warfare.

If Zayne—sweet, soft-hearted future doctor Zayne—grew up with even a single blurry memory of you being adorable and likable?

You were toast. Charred. Doomed to be pulled into the messy tangle of main plotline drama.

You refused to be the childhood best friend who “he always cared for in a different way.”

You refused to be the secret side character route.

You refused to be collateral damage.

So yes, if shoving carrot cake into his mouth and gaslighting his mom into believing he asked for it was what it took?

Then fork up, Zayne. It's go time.

Zayne, who had finally recovered from his frosting-flavored trauma, was now wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, glaring at you like you’d just drop-kicked his puppy.

“I’m telling my mom,” he muttered darkly.

You took a dainty sip of your juice box and smiled over the straw. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna tell her? That a three-year-old forced you to eat cake?”

Zayne hesitated.

Exactly.

“Face it, future surgeon,” you said, gesturing grandly with your half-eaten slice. “You just got outplayed by a toddler.”

“I’m five.”

“And still lost. Embarrassing.”

Zayne narrowed his eyes. You could see the internal gears shifting. He was planning. Plotting. You had officially activated his inner pettiness.

Good.

That meant he wouldn’t get attached.

That meant you were doing your job right.

Because the moment he did start seeing you as a friend? You’d be one step closer to being dragged into the chaos of fate.

This was war.

And you were just getting started.

MY FELLOW ZAYNE GIRLIES, DO NOT COME FOR ME! I MYSELF AM ONE OF YOU. Trust, Zayne isn't the only one who's going to get it!