sakura-miuru

[sakura-miuru]

He did WHAT to Mephisto?!

This scenario is based on a reel I came across, by amai.ato on Instagram. Title and plot credits to them 𓂃۶ৎ

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮

You didn’t sign up to be stalked by a crow at 8:07 in the morning. And yet, here you are. Hair unbrushed, one sock missing, phone clenched between your fingers as you pace the length of your room while a mechanical demon, shaped like a crow and possessed by Sylus’s idea of "harmless coding experiments" caws nonstop from the windowsill like it’s performing a ritual.

“Answer. Pick up pick up pick up pick up-” you mutter under your breath, thumb mashing the call button until finally his velvety voice comes through.

“What’s the matter?”

His voice greets you in that too-low, too-lazy tone that tells you he's fresh out of the shower. You blink, stunned for a second, because yeah there’s that tell-tale echo in the background, the drip of water, and maybe, just maybe, a towel hanging low on his hips. You snap back into the present with a flustered breath and a constant reminder of why you called ringing loudly in the backdrop.

“What-..a very good morning to you too darling... but tell me, What is Mephisto doing here so early in the morning?”

There's a pause. You can practically hear him smirking through the silence.

“Is there a problem?”

You stop pacing to glare at the window. Mephisto meets your gaze, glowing red eyes blinking like an alert CCTV camera.

“He’s been cawing at me for fifteen minutes, Sylus. What did you do?”

A soft chuckle sounds through your phone. Then his voice again, this time smoother with a hint of teasing in his words.

“I reprogrammed him, in a way that makes him want to see you every day.”

A beat passes.

“And he won’t stop cawing until he gets a glimpse of your pretty... face.”

You nearly drop your phone.

“I-What?? You gave Mephi separation anxiety?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Call it visual attachment. He only wants to play with his pretty little kitten.”

You don’t dignify that with a reply, ignoring how he said "his kitten". Instead, you drag yourself to the window, muttering curses under your breath. You open the curtain fully and stand directly in front of the glass like a very tired sacrifice.

“Here,” you say flatly. “Here’s my pretty face. Shut up now.”

Mephisto goes still, and Caws once. Then…aah sweet silence. Your shoulders sag, tension leaving you as you exhale victoriously, not until-

Thump.

He lands on your head. Shiny talons gently gripping your hair

“...No.”

He hops down to your shoulder with the weight of a well-fed house cat. You switch to facetime and turn your phone slightly so Sylus can see what you’ve become.

“This is ALL your fault.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” Sylus replies lazily, his image finally appearing on the video feed. His damp hair sticks slightly to his forehead, one hand 'towel-drying' it while the other holds his coffee. He looks obnoxiously good. And he's shirtless...of course. But before you can respond, a strange sound cuts through the air, mechanical whirring, like wires snapping and rearranging. You feel Mephisto suddenly tense on your shoulder, then a weird, heavy sensation.

A sudden heat attacks your neck, along with a flash of misty black and crimson. And then silence again. You blink, truly blink, and nearly fall backwards. 

The crow is gone.

In his place, standing in your apartment, is a MAN?!.

Tall. Elegant. Devilishly beautiful.

Hair black as midnight, tousled around his sharp jaw. Red eyes, lined sharply with red, both outer and inner corners drawn sleek. A high-tech black suit, sleek with crimson lines, butat a closer look, unmistakably: a Victorian-style vest, ruffled bow, red brooch, and long red-glass earrings that shimmer like blood drops caught in light.

Gloved hands twitch once, then reach for you.

You freeze, equally confused and out of breath at whatever is unfolding in front of your eyes. Too much, this is all too much.

He steps closer to you, no sense of personal space evident.

You’re about to bolt out of the room when his arm slips around your waist, firm yet delicate, like he’s imagined doing this move in silence countless of times. Then, with almost ceremonial grace, he lifts your hand and kisses the back of it. It was slow, as if he's taking his sweet time, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath catches. Your knees almost buckle.

“…Sylus,” you whisper shakily into your phone. “M-Mephi" you point to the raven head infront of you, "just turned into a man.”

There’s silence on the other end. Then an all too familiar laugh from the man who's the root cause of this weirdly specific situation.

“Still watching.”

You don’t dare look at the screen. Mostly because you can feel Mephisto still holding your waist, like he belongs at your hip. And you don't know whether to swat him away or hide under a pillow. The crowman just won’t let go.

You go to grab a glass of water, he follows.

You sit down to breathe, he sits next to you, too close.

You attempt to open a book, he rests his chin on your shoulder, red eyes scanning the page with fascination, unaware of the hot, mechanical breath that lands on your nape.

All the while, Sylus’s camera is still on. You can feel it. You glance at the screen. Isn't he one bit jealous?

He’s leaned back in his chair now, legs crossed, mug half-empty, smile fully formed.

“you!...” you begin slowly, “...why would you make him like this?”

He chuckles softly, tilting his head.

“Oh sweetie, there’s no reason in particular…” he drawls, enjoying your flustered reactions all too much “I just wanted him to behave as such.”

You narrow your eyes.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

Then, a softer

“Besides… he’s just an extension of me, isn’t he?”

You don’t reply.

Mostly because Mephisto’s arms tighten slightly around you and he presses a final kiss to your knuckles, like it’s a promise.

And you swear, out of the corner of your eye, that Sylus is smiling with just a hint of pride.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮

I tried keeping it as similar to the video as I could, with adding my own spicy imagination (there was no spice, Sakura)

Do let me know how I did, constructive criticism is welcome.

Also let me know if you would like me to continue the 'Mephi turned hottie' scenario~

ALSO, I forgot to mention but I LOVE LOVE LOVE Mephi's human design in the reel! The artist did such a heavenly job🛐🛐🛐

Comments and reblogs are appreciated ☕︎

[sakura-miuru]

I burst into tears so bad, as if I were getting proposed to right then and there🥹❄️🍾

[sakura-miuru]

@blessdunrest @thechaoticarchivist GUYS! Thank you so much for giving this a read, I'm glad you guys loved the way I wrote their personalities (I was not sure on so many levels) and this gives me motivation to carry on and try writing more. Also, idk how Tumblr works even though I've been on this app since forever 😭 I didn't know how to reply so here~ (ok I'm rambling now)

Kbyee

When you haven't logged in LADS for a day

LADS men when the reader gets trapped in real life and can’t log in

(Because I got grounded (yes I'm an adult), got my phone locked up and I miss my hubbies😭)

The boys in LADS are self-aware, they know they're part of a game. They know you log in from some another world. What goes down when you don't log in one day?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡

XAVIER

It’s 00:03 a.m., and you’re still not in the Destiny Café.

Xavier is not panicking. He's just...monitoring. Like a responsible teammate. Who has refreshed your status log seven times in twenty minutes. Eight. No, nine now..

You didn’t show up for core hunts. Didn’t send your usual "u better carry >:(" message before a bounty mission. Didn’t complain about drop rates or fake-die in his arms for dramatic effect.

His entire internal clock feels scrambled.

To recalibrate, he’s cleaned every weapon in his arsenal, alphabetized his item inventory by function and emotional relevance (yours are all starred), and even checked if the café’s background music changed in your absence. It didn’t. Rude.

The café’s AI bot pauses near him, asking if he’d like the “Lonely Night” playlist activated.

He glares. It backs away.

“She’s probably just... busy” he mutters, with the enthusiasm of a soggy rice cracker.

He adjusts your chair back into its exact usual position- a 63-degree angle facing the window, because you said "the lighting is aesthetically pleasing.” Then he sits perfectly still for 47 minutes.

When Rafayel strolls by and dares to say “Guess she’s ghosting us, huh?”, Xavier loads his sniper rifle very slowly.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇ִֶָ

ZAYNE

He was already sitting in the Destiny Café, adorned in his usual crisp black shirt and shades (yes, indoors at night) flipping through medical research papers like a man whose idea of fun is dissecting heart valve anomalies.

It was part of the routine. Wind-down time after back-to-back surgeries, late rounds, and dodging hospital gossip.

Usually, you'd show up right on cue, plopping down across from him with that look , the one that said “put the anatomy journal down and be normal for five seconds.”

You’d tease him about his funeral-core fashion sense. Steal the macarons from his saucer. Ramble about your day until he finally gave in and said something sarcastic and low-key sweet.

Tonight, though, your seat stays empty.

The silence stretches long. Even the espresso machine sounds like it's hesitating to interrupt him.

He checks the clock. Then the login log. Then the clock again.

It’s unlike you to vanish without a word.

He tells himself you're probably just caught up with something. That he’s definitely not refreshing the system’s friend list every fifteen minutes like a very calm, very rational adult.

That the tightness in his chest is probably just caffeine withdrawal. Or a heart attack. (Unlikely, he’d know lmao.)

The medical paper in his hand blurs. He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair and making it messier than he’ll ever admit.

“You better be okay,” he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges. “Because this place feels off without you.”

Pause.

He picks up his untouched drink, takes a slow sip, then grimaces.

“...And they messed up my order again. See? This is what happens when you’re not here. But why is it so bitter...”

He swears he’s not worried.

But he does save your seat.

And he doesn’t leave until closing.

⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺

RAFAYEL

Rafayel’s studio feels emptier than usual. The sunlight doesn’t land quite the same on his canvases, the city outside feels duller, and the silence is downright insulting. You haven’t shown up today.

No sarcastic comments about his brushstroke “mood swings.”

No eye-rolls when he dramatically flings paint like he’s summoning a storm.

No unsolicited critiques that somehow still inspire him and make him question his entire aesthetic.

He stares at the half-finished portrait of you on the easel , your smile frozen in oils, untouched since this morning. Normally, he’d have sent you a progress photo with a caption like “Your nose betrayed me again 🥲” and waited smugly for your response.

Normally, you’d be here.

Today? Silence.

He flops across the studio couch like a Victorian widow, one arm over his forehead, paint on his cheek and possibly in his hair (he’s not checking).

“Zero head pats today. None. Not even a ‘nice colour palette, Raf.’ Emotional malnourishment is a thing, you know.”

The smart speaker, clearly done with his melodrama, offers a meditation playlist. He hisses at it. Then he opens your chat and types:

"Miss Bodyguard, I fear I am perishing without your attention."

Adds a dramatic 💀

Then a ✨

Then... pauses. Deletes the sparkle. Then proceeds to re-add it.

He doesn’t hit send. Then he does and immediately regrets it but doesn't delete it. Instead, he turns dramatically toward the window.

“If she’s run away with that brooding killjoy Sylus, I swear I will start painting exclusively in beige.”

The easel wobbles dangerously behind him. But he doesn’t clean up the mess. He doesn’t put the paints away. Because maybe, just maybe, you’ll log in tomorrow.

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆

SYLUS

You missed a resonance session.

One.

The world did not end. The sky did not fall. But for some reason, Sylus has been staring at the blank screen as if you are suddenly gonna spawn in front of him. He won’t say anything. Of course not.

He’s just... sitting there. Arms crossed. Waiting. Quietly waiting. Menacingly waiting. The resonance pod remains empty.

“Maybe she overslept,” he mutters.

He checks the logs again. That’s the fourth time.

“Or broke her phone. Again.”

Fifth time.

“...Or she’s ignoring me.”

At this point, even the AI system makes a polite ping as if to say Sir, please stop hovering.

He doesn’t move.

Down the hall, Luke peeks through the half-open door, whisper-yelling to Keiran like a gossiping grandma.

“Bro. Bossman’s still in there.”

Keiran leans over. “You think we should tell him she probably just lost Wi-Fi?”

Luke stares at Sylus, still stone-faced and still checking for your signal like he’s tracking an enemy agent.

“...Nope. I like living.”

Back in the chamber, Sylus hasn’t blinked in 23 seconds.

“She’d better not be out there listening to glubglub boy talk about colour theory and fish metaphors again,” he mutters under his breath.

Another minute passes. No login. No voice.

He finally sighs, leans back, and mutters to himself:

“This is stupid. I’m not waiting around like some idiot.”

Waits around like some idiot.

Meanwhile, in the hallway:

Luke: “If she doesn’t log in by tomorrow, do we... hold a memorial?”

Keiran: “You mean for her, or for bossman’s sanity?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮

CALEB

You didn’t log in today.

Which means no combat drills. No smug quips from your end. No dumplings stolen off his plate while pretending you’re “just checking the spice balance.”

And most criminally... no workout session, where you usually tease him like it’s your job… right up until the point his focus slips, he grunts a little too loud, and you go completely silent.

Not because you're unimpressed, oh no. Because you're a blushing mess.

(You logged off halfway once. He has not let that go.)

But today? Nothing.

At first, he pretends it’s fine. You’re probably busy. He works out solo. Grumbles about form. Mopes a little. By evening, he’s cooked dinner for two and scowled through most of it.

He finally storms into Destiny Café, marching straight past Zayne, who’s silently glaring into his coffee like it's automatically gonna sweeten itself. Caleb doesn’t even glance his way. He’s on a mission.

Straight to the invisible barrier between your world and his.

BANG.

“PIPSQUEAK. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME.”

BANG BANG.

“I’m not saying I miss you, but the AI assistant tried to sass me and it wasn’t the same.”

He drags a hand through his hair, breathing hard. His eyes flick with that particular shine, restless, intense, too focused to be healthy.

“You better not be ignoring me. I’ve tracked fleets through asteroid belts with less determination than I’m using to wait for you.”

He glances back at the untouched plate he set down earlier.

“I cooked your favourite. Even put those dumb little smiling dumplings on the plate. You gonna let them go cold?”

Then softer, voice low and sharp as a blade’s edge:

“…Who’s got your attention today, huh?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

He sits down, arms folded, pouting but trying to look like he’s not. He glances at the plate.

Doesn’t eat it.

Just in case you show up tomorrow.

Probably to tease him again and maybe blush halfway through and vanish mid-sentence.

°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Meanwhile, in your world, the phone lies imprisoned on your dad’s desk, holding five pixelated men on the brink of collapse. You lie on your bed, face-down, screaming internally.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡

Lmao I never thought two days without my phone would push me to finally write something. Guess it IS the damn phone's fault XD

Do let me know how I did~ comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

[sakura-miuru]

When you haven't logged in LADS for a day

LADS men when the reader gets trapped in real life and can’t log in

(Because I got grounded (yes I'm an adult), got my phone locked up and I miss my hubbies😭)

The boys in LADS are self-aware, they know they're part of a game. They know you log in from some another world. What goes down when you don't log in one day?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡

XAVIER

It’s 00:03 a.m., and you’re still not in the Destiny Café.

Xavier is not panicking. He's just...monitoring. Like a responsible teammate. Who has refreshed your status log seven times in twenty minutes. Eight. No, nine now..

You didn’t show up for core hunts. Didn’t send your usual "u better carry >:(" message before a bounty mission. Didn’t complain about drop rates or fake-die in his arms for dramatic effect.

His entire internal clock feels scrambled.

To recalibrate, he’s cleaned every weapon in his arsenal, alphabetized his item inventory by function and emotional relevance (yours are all starred), and even checked if the café’s background music changed in your absence. It didn’t. Rude.

The café’s AI bot pauses near him, asking if he’d like the “Lonely Night” playlist activated.

He glares. It backs away.

“She’s probably just... busy” he mutters, with the enthusiasm of a soggy rice cracker.

He adjusts your chair back into its exact usual position- a 63-degree angle facing the window, because you said "the lighting is aesthetically pleasing.” Then he sits perfectly still for 47 minutes.

When Rafayel strolls by and dares to say “Guess she’s ghosting us, huh?”, Xavier loads his sniper rifle very slowly.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇ִֶָ

ZAYNE

He was already sitting in the Destiny Café, adorned in his usual crisp black shirt and shades (yes, indoors at night) flipping through medical research papers like a man whose idea of fun is dissecting heart valve anomalies.

It was part of the routine. Wind-down time after back-to-back surgeries, late rounds, and dodging hospital gossip.

Usually, you'd show up right on cue, plopping down across from him with that look , the one that said “put the anatomy journal down and be normal for five seconds.”

You’d tease him about his funeral-core fashion sense. Steal the macarons from his saucer. Ramble about your day until he finally gave in and said something sarcastic and low-key sweet.

Tonight, though, your seat stays empty.

The silence stretches long. Even the espresso machine sounds like it's hesitating to interrupt him.

He checks the clock. Then the login log. Then the clock again.

It’s unlike you to vanish without a word.

He tells himself you're probably just caught up with something. That he’s definitely not refreshing the system’s friend list every fifteen minutes like a very calm, very rational adult.

That the tightness in his chest is probably just caffeine withdrawal. Or a heart attack. (Unlikely, he’d know lmao.)

The medical paper in his hand blurs. He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair and making it messier than he’ll ever admit.

“You better be okay,” he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges. “Because this place feels off without you.”

Pause.

He picks up his untouched drink, takes a slow sip, then grimaces.

“...And they messed up my order again. See? This is what happens when you’re not here. But why is it so bitter...”

He swears he’s not worried.

But he does save your seat.

And he doesn’t leave until closing.

⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺

RAFAYEL

Rafayel’s studio feels emptier than usual. The sunlight doesn’t land quite the same on his canvases, the city outside feels duller, and the silence is downright insulting. You haven’t shown up today.

No sarcastic comments about his brushstroke “mood swings.”

No eye-rolls when he dramatically flings paint like he’s summoning a storm.

No unsolicited critiques that somehow still inspire him and make him question his entire aesthetic.

He stares at the half-finished portrait of you on the easel , your smile frozen in oils, untouched since this morning. Normally, he’d have sent you a progress photo with a caption like “Your nose betrayed me again 🥲” and waited smugly for your response.

Normally, you’d be here.

Today? Silence.

He flops across the studio couch like a Victorian widow, one arm over his forehead, paint on his cheek and possibly in his hair (he’s not checking).

“Zero head pats today. None. Not even a ‘nice colour palette, Raf.’ Emotional malnourishment is a thing, you know.”

The smart speaker, clearly done with his melodrama, offers a meditation playlist. He hisses at it. Then he opens your chat and types:

"Miss Bodyguard, I fear I am perishing without your attention."

Adds a dramatic 💀

Then a ✨

Then... pauses. Deletes the sparkle. Then proceeds to re-add it.

He doesn’t hit send. Then he does and immediately regrets it but doesn't delete it. Instead, he turns dramatically toward the window.

“If she’s run away with that brooding killjoy Sylus, I swear I will start painting exclusively in beige.”

The easel wobbles dangerously behind him. But he doesn’t clean up the mess. He doesn’t put the paints away. Because maybe, just maybe, you’ll log in tomorrow.

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆

SYLUS

You missed a resonance session.

One.

The world did not end. The sky did not fall. But for some reason, Sylus has been staring at the blank screen as if you are suddenly gonna spawn in front of him. He won’t say anything. Of course not.

He’s just... sitting there. Arms crossed. Waiting. Quietly waiting. Menacingly waiting. The resonance pod remains empty.

“Maybe she overslept,” he mutters.

He checks the logs again. That’s the fourth time.

“Or broke her phone. Again.”

Fifth time.

“...Or she’s ignoring me.”

At this point, even the AI system makes a polite ping as if to say Sir, please stop hovering.

He doesn’t move.

Down the hall, Luke peeks through the half-open door, whisper-yelling to Keiran like a gossiping grandma.

“Bro. Bossman’s still in there.”

Keiran leans over. “You think we should tell him she probably just lost Wi-Fi?”

Luke stares at Sylus, still stone-faced and still checking for your signal like he’s tracking an enemy agent.

“...Nope. I like living.”

Back in the chamber, Sylus hasn’t blinked in 23 seconds.

“She’d better not be out there listening to glubglub boy talk about colour theory and fish metaphors again,” he mutters under his breath.

Another minute passes. No login. No voice.

He finally sighs, leans back, and mutters to himself:

“This is stupid. I’m not waiting around like some idiot.”

Waits around like some idiot.

Meanwhile, in the hallway:

Luke: “If she doesn’t log in by tomorrow, do we... hold a memorial?”

Keiran: “You mean for her, or for bossman’s sanity?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮

CALEB

You didn’t log in today.

Which means no combat drills. No smug quips from your end. No dumplings stolen off his plate while pretending you’re “just checking the spice balance.”

And most criminally... no workout session, where you usually tease him like it’s your job… right up until the point his focus slips, he grunts a little too loud, and you go completely silent.

Not because you're unimpressed, oh no. Because you're a blushing mess.

(You logged off halfway once. He has not let that go.)

But today? Nothing.

At first, he pretends it’s fine. You’re probably busy. He works out solo. Grumbles about form. Mopes a little. By evening, he’s cooked dinner for two and scowled through most of it.

He finally storms into Destiny Café, marching straight past Zayne, who’s silently glaring into his coffee like it's automatically gonna sweeten itself. Caleb doesn’t even glance his way. He’s on a mission.

Straight to the invisible barrier between your world and his.

BANG.

“PIPSQUEAK. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME.”

BANG BANG.

“I’m not saying I miss you, but the AI assistant tried to sass me and it wasn’t the same.”

He drags a hand through his hair, breathing hard. His eyes flick with that particular shine, restless, intense, too focused to be healthy.

“You better not be ignoring me. I’ve tracked fleets through asteroid belts with less determination than I’m using to wait for you.”

He glances back at the untouched plate he set down earlier.

“I cooked your favourite. Even put those dumb little smiling dumplings on the plate. You gonna let them go cold?”

Then softer, voice low and sharp as a blade’s edge:

“…Who’s got your attention today, huh?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

He sits down, arms folded, pouting but trying to look like he’s not. He glances at the plate.

Doesn’t eat it.

Just in case you show up tomorrow.

Probably to tease him again and maybe blush halfway through and vanish mid-sentence.

°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Meanwhile, in your world, the phone lies imprisoned on your dad’s desk, holding five pixelated men on the brink of collapse. You lie on your bed, face-down, screaming internally.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡

Lmao I never thought two days without my phone would push me to finally write something. Guess it IS the damn phone's fault XD

Do let me know how I did~ comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

[sakura-miuru]

UM SO-

I've gone absolutely iNSANE AND FERAL FOR SEA GOD RAFAYEL! It's been 3 days since the trailer dropped and it's been on loop. I have honestly lost count atp-- congratulations to those whose edits I've been watching on loop😭😭😭 and me? I can't stop making edits for him😭😭

HE'S SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!

WHY'S HE SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL?!

SOMEONE PLS ISEKAI ME REINCARNATE ME SHOVE ME TRANSCEND ME TO THIS OTHER DIMENSION--

I'm trapped in the cycle of angst 🔁 thirst trap

I got absolutely destroyed by Caleb's banner because he refused to come home even after I spent all my hard-earned money (diamonds) to bring him home (on impulse because I was saving up for the future myths) and he didn't even step a foot inside. Bad luck I guess😔

This time I absofuckinglutely need to bring Rafayel home, idk how I'm gonna do it but I NEED this myth anyhow OTHERWISE I'LL DIVORCE- (jk Rafayel look the other way honey)

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

Long-haired Rafayel~ *along with the angst to match cuz infold is sadist*

ALSO-- this fic right here just fueled the fire in me

Y'all should give it a read as well

✨👁️👄👁️✨

[sakura-miuru]

𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 💔💔

[sakura-miuru]

"Those aren't drums, sweetie" ahh 😭😭😭

Sylus´ bakery♥~ More art on Patreon

[sakura-miuru]

Who's running away from the Holy Trinity of LADS? not me 🛐

[sakura-miuru]

Zayne's version ~

❄️❄️❄️

[sakura-miuru]

I DON'T HAVE WORDS😭😭

[sakura-miuru]

He's pretty too~

[sakura-miuru]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Eunhaayaa (@not.eunhaa_)

We can post the reels via link here?

Anyway- YANDERE MC? HOSTAGE XAVIER? SKSKSKSKSKSKJSJSHSJSK

🛐🤌🏻

[sakura-miuru]

I can't with the devs😭😭😭 because before logging in, I really was watching a video on skin and hair care.

Instances like these do a really good job by feeding our delulus 👁️👄👁️🗡️

[sakura-miuru]

Credit: @/Eggrollpu on Twitter

[sakura-miuru]

FINALLY GOT HIM!! THAT TOO IN 2 PULLS?! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAA😭😭😭😭😭🪄🪄🪄🪄

(I'm sooo happiiiii)

[sakura-miuru]

She's the man! 🤌🏻👄🤌🏻

Howdy y'all ~