Rose

🌹

[missy4176]

✨ Requests Open! ✨

Hi, I’m a writer who loves diving deep into emotions and stories that tug at the heart. You can call me Missy! I’m currently open to taking writing requests—whether you’re in the mood for soft fluff or heart-wrenching angst, I’ve got you covered.

💌 Fandoms I write for:

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint (ORV)

Lord of the Mysteries (LoTM)

Trash of the Count’s Family (TCF)

-Or You can request other fandom maybe I know them I will try to write them.

📝 What I write:

Fluff ☁️

Angst 💔

Character x Reader

Canonverse or AUs

Headcanons, short drabbles, or longer one-shots (depending on inspiration)

🚫 What I don’t write:

NSFW or explicit content

Incest, pedophilia, or any problematic themes

Gore or excessive graphic violence

Romantic ships I’m not comfortable with (feel free to ask first!)

🌸 How to request:

Just send me a message or ask with:

The fandom + character(s)

Reader’s role (if applicable)

Preferred mood (fluff, angst, etc.)

Any specific prompt or detail you want included!

I don’t promise I’ll write everything sent my way, but I do read and appreciate every request 💌 If inspiration strikes, I’ll definitely write it!

Thanks for stopping by, and I look forward to writing for you ♡

[missy4176]

Spoiler Alert! If you’ve only watched the anime and haven’t read the novel, be warned this is an important spoiler!”

Klein Moretti x Reader

The evening fog over Tingen curled like a memory that refused to fade. The rain had stopped, leaving behind the smell of wet earth and rust. The faint glow of gas lamps trembled along the street, their light bending through mist like the dying breath of stars.

Klein Moretti stood under the old awning of the bookstore where it had all begun when you first met. His coat was dark with rain, his hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes those calm, observing eyes held the weight of two worlds.

He heard the quiet footsteps before he saw them. He didn’t need to turn. Somehow, he already knew it was you.

The moment stretched, filled only by the distant toll of the clock tower and the whisper of rain dripping from the eaves. When you stopped beside him, the air shifted two wanderers standing at the edge of the life they had built from borrowed time.

“You came,” he said, his voice a low murmur.

“I promised I would,” you replied.

Klein let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “You always keep your promises. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

For a while, neither spoke. The silence was not empty; it was heavy with everything that didn’t need to be said. It carried the echoes of streets once patrolled together, the scent of burnt gunpowder, the faint hum of ritual chants.

He finally turned toward you, the lamplight tracing the edge of his face. “Do you remember what I said, before everything started to change? Before Amon, before the Fool, before the truth came crashing down?”

You nodded slowly. “You said you wouldn’t lose too much… just yourself.”

Klein’s lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There are always some things that are more important than others.” He paused, gaze dropping to his gloved hands. “I just didn’t realize how heavy that choice would feel when the time finally came.”

His voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “Sometimes I think about it—the day we found out this world was Earth. How foolish we were, clinging to the idea of going home. I thought all my struggles would end if I could just return… but when I learned the truth, when the illusion shattered, I realized there was nothing left to return to.”

He looked at you then, and the fog around his eyes seemed to tremble with quiet pain. “Perhaps I’ve never left my hometown,” he said, “but I’ll never be able to return home.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy as rain about to fall again.

You remembered that day vividly the moment he discovered the truth. The way his shoulders stiffened, how the light seemed to drain from his expression, how despair at the same time being half crazy..had clawed at him like a physical thing. You had been there, standing beside him in the cold silence that followed, when the dream of “going home” had turned to ash.

"All the effort

All the sacrifice he made

All the pain he endured

Just to see the harsh truth that his goal on going home

Had turned to ash.."

But he hadn’t broken. Not entirely.

Because you were there.

You had both been strangers in this world two souls torn from their origins, trying to survive in a place where gods watched from behind curtains of madness. You’d learned to read its rituals, to navigate its logic, to laugh when the weight of it threatened to crush you. Together, you’d turned exile into existence.

And somehow, in all the chaos, he had begun to change.

The man who once sought escape had learned to stand still.

The man who once feared loss had learned to accept it.

And the man who once wanted to go home had found one in the fleeting moments beside you.

Klein’s voice broke the silence again. “You once told me that maybe we weren’t sent here by accident. That maybe this world needed us as much as we needed it. I didn’t believe you back then.”

He smiled faintly, turning his gaze toward the wet cobblestones. “Now I do.”

You looked at him the man who had carried humanity’s fragility and godhood’s curse in equal measure and saw both worlds reflected in his eyes.

“So this is goodbye?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Klein’s expression softened. “It has to be. The Celestial Worthy won’t wait. And if I lose focus…”

He trailed off, but you could finish the thought yourself. You had seen what happened to Beyonders who lost themselves. To Klein, that fate was a mercy compared to what awaited him.

He took a slow step forward, closing the small distance between you. The faint scent of dust and ozone clung to him like old books and storms. “I won’t lose too much,” he said, echoing the words that had once been a promise and now sounded like a farewell. “Just myself. There are always some things that are more important than others.”

His gloved hand trembled as it reached up, almost hesitating before brushing against your cheek. The touch was fleeting—an unspoken confession disguised as a gesture of farewell.

“You were one of those things,” he said quietly.

Your chest tightened. Words failed you. The only answer you could give was to cover his hand with yours, pressing it against your skin as if to memorize its warmth.

The clock tower began to strike midnight.

Klein drew back, eyes dim yet steady. “I’ll be going where even thoughts can’t follow. I don’t know if I’ll come back… or if I’ll still be me when I do.”

You swallowed hard. “Then I’ll remember for you. Everything. Who you were. What we were.”

His gaze softened, and something in him eased like a man finally making peace with the impossible. “That’s all I could ask for.”

A thin mist began to gather around him, curling upward like a gray veil. The lamplight bent and shimmered. He looked at you one last time, his figure blurring at the edges, as though the world itself was trying to reclaim him.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For being the reason I didn’t despair. For making this world… worth staying in.”

The fog swallowed his form piece by piece the coat, the hat, the faint glimmer in his eyes until only his voice remained, carried on the trembling air.

“Perhaps I’ll never return home,” he murmured, “but I was never truly gone, was I?”

The last echo faded into the stillness.

You stood beneath the dripping eaves, the silence around you vast and echoing. The streets of Tingen looked the same as they always had, but everything felt different now emptier, yet strangely peaceful.

In your hand, you found something warm the old coin he had once pressed into your palm. The coin was cracked, you look above and saw the clock hands frozen at the hour he first died. But beneath the silence, you could swear you heard it ticking again, faint and stubborn, like a heartbeat refusing to stop.

And somewhere far beyond the mist and madness, in the place where divinity and dreams intertwined, a familiar whisper stirred:

“I’ll remember too.”

[missy4176]

✨ Currently Writing ✨

FANFIC ANNOUNCEMENT

I'm working on a Lord of the Mysteries fanfic!! 🕯️📖

It’s a Zhou Mingrui x OC (Yuin Shi) story, set before the events of the novel—so yes, it’s in a modern-day setting 👀💻

This fic will explore Zhou Mingrui’s life before the Beyonder world fully awakens, with a slow-burn emotional vibe, slice-of-life moments, and maybe even some mysterious little twists 👁️💫

Yuin Shi is just trying to clean out her old home after college and something happened... and somehow ends up tangled with a quiet, observant guy named Zhou Mingrui ..

Total words 14k

[missy4176]

⟢ Part 2 – "The One I Couldn’t Say Goodbye To"

Part 1

—Klein’s POV—

The Sefirah Castle loomed like a cathedral built from time itself, its edges blurred by the infinite gray fog that surrounded it. Silence stretched across the divine realm — not the peaceful kind, but the heavy stillness of unspoken truths and things too sacred to name.

Klein Moretti — no, Zhou Mingrui, though that name felt both alien and intimate now — stood before the glowing cocoon that shimmered faintly with warmth. He had seen countless cocoons in the fog before, most dormant, some flickering, none familiar. But this one…

This one reached into the deepest part of him. Not through logic or mysticism. Through memory. Through regret.

He knew what it was before he dared confirm it.

Y/N.

The one he never said goodbye to. The one whose name he hadn’t spoken aloud in this world because it hurt too much. Because admitting he missed you was admitting that something human in him still longed to go back — back to that life, back to that tiny dorm room and your sleepy smile, back to warm summer days and shared laughter that didn’t cost sanity or blood.

His gloved hand hovered inches from the cocoon’s surface, trembling faintly.

“What if you don’t remember me?”

“What if you’re just a dream… created by this place, like everything else I lost?”

“What if I bring you into this world — and doom you to the same madness I’ve barely survived?”

Klein swallowed tightly, his throat dry.

But the selfishness in his heart — that fragile, human part of him that had endured even after becoming a god among monsters — whispered:

> Just once, let yourself want her back.

Not for justice.

Not for the world.

Not for fate.

But for you.

Because he still remembered the way you held his arm when you walked beside him. The way you laughed at his awkward jokes. The quiet moments in the cafe. The way you smiled when you said his name.

No power, no miracle he’d gained, had ever filled the void you left.

Just once, he would be selfish.

Klein took a breath. Then reached out — and touched the cocoon.

A shimmer of light bloomed across the surface, spreading in delicate cracks like the breaking of glass beneath ice. Thin threads of silvery brilliance unraveled, pulling open the shell like silk peeling away from a dream.

And from it — from that strange womb of stasis and fate — you emerged, suspended like a sleeping thought.

Your form lowered gently, gracefully, until you touched the fog-soft floor. You were unconscious, your breathing faint but steady.

Klein dropped to one knee, not caring how divine he was supposed to be here. His hands hovered just above your skin, terrified to touch, terrified to feel something that would vanish again. The familiar features of your face made something twist painfully in his chest.

“...You’re alive,” he whispered, reverent. His voice broke as it left his throat.

And then — your fingers twitched.

---

—Your POV—

It felt like drowning.

No — like waking up after drowning. Your lungs ached. Your chest rose in ragged gasps. Cold air — air that wasn’t air — filled you, tinged with something ancient and wrong, but breathable.

You coughed softly.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

The first thing you saw was fog. Endless, pale, dreamlike fog — rolling softly in every direction. The ground beneath you felt cool and unnatural, like stone touched by time, but not decay. There were… no walls. No ceiling. No sky.

And in front of you — a figure in black.

A tall man, wrapped in a dark, elegant robe, with a high collar and gloves. His face was partially in shadow, not because of lighting, but because the fog seemed to respect his presence.

He stared at you.

Not like a stranger.

Like someone trying not to fall apart.

Your heart began to race. “W-Where… where am I?” you rasped. You tried to sit up, but your limbs felt like they’d been asleep for years.

The man blinked, startled, mouth parting — as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

You looked around, panic rising. “This… this isn’t my room. This isn’t anywhere. I—”

You remembered.

The police reports. The missed calls. Your trembling hands putting up flyers. The nights you searched social media threads and forums until your eyes bled with tears.

Zhou Mingrui.

The name echoed in your mind like thunder.

“Zhou…” Your voice cracked. “I was looking for Zhou Mingrui. Where is he?”

The man stiffened.

You turned to him, heart pounding harder. “Who are you?” you demanded. “Why do I—”

You froze.

His eyes.

Something in those eyes…

They were the same.

The same warmth, buried under layers of pain. The same restraint, the same quiet intelligence — even if his face had sharpened, even if the world around him had changed. Even if he now carried a terrifying kind of weight in his shoulders, as if he had seen entire civilizations fall.

“Why are you looking at me like that…?” you whispered.

“…You still remember me,” he said softly. So quietly, it nearly vanished into the mist.

You froze.

That voice.

That hesitation.

That pain.

It couldn’t be.

“…No,” you breathed. But your eyes widened. You leaned forward. “Zhou Mingrui…?”

He flinched — as if hearing that name hurt — then nodded slowly.

“It’s me.”

Your breath stopped.

The rush of emotions hit like a tidal wave — joy, shock, confusion, sorrow. All tangled together, trying to claw their way out of your chest.

“You disappeared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You disappeared and— I thought you died. I searched everywhere, Zhou. Posters. Police. Online forums. People said I was crazy. That I needed to move on.”

Tears spilled freely now, raw and unfiltered.

“But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Because I—I loved you. I love you. And every night I asked myself why—why did you leave without a word?”

“I thought I was losing my mind looking for you,” you sobbed. “I missed you so much. I missed your presence, your smile, your laugh… your love for me.”

Zhou — no, Klein — lowered his gaze. His gloved hands trembled against his knees.

“I didn’t mean to leave,” he said. “I never planned it. One moment I was in my room. The next... I woke up in this era. A era of potions, rituals, and madness.”

He exhaled shakily. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

You stared at him, lips trembling. “That’s not an explanation. That’s a nightmare.”

“I thought so too,” he said gently. “For a long time.”

And then, the weight was too much. You surged forward, collapsing into his chest. Not to attack, not to beg — just to feel. Just to confirm he was real. That he was warm. That he still existed.

He froze.

And then — hesitantly, tremblingly — he held you back.

Tenderly. Like someone who had long forgotten what human warmth was. His arms wrapped around you, hesitant but sure. A man who had stared into the abyss — and finally found something worth holding on to.

“I thought I was chasing a ghost,” you whispered. “That I was going crazy.”

Klein said nothing. His arms tightened, a hand gently sliding over your hair, anchoring you.

“I tried to stop missing you,” you whispered, voice raw. “But it never worked.”

“I missed you too,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “Every day. Even when I couldn’t be sure you were anything more than a memory.”

You pulled back slightly, eyes locked on his.

“…Are we dreaming now?” you asked, your voice a whisper of fear and wonder.

He looked at you, solemn and soft.

“No,” he murmured. “But I almost wish we were, so I wouldn’t have to lose you again.”

---

—Klein’s Inner Monologue—

She’s here.

Not a memory. Not a delusion crafted by my loneliness.

She remembers me. She searched for me.

She loved me. Even when I wasn’t there. Even when she didn’t know where I had gone.

Klein closed his eyes. His hands clenched at your back.

He had lost so many things. His name. His time. His innocence.

But he would not lose you.

Not this time.

[missy4176]

Klein Moretti x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

The gray fog was as endless as ever — vast, silent, and shrouded in secrets not meant for mortals.

Klein Moretti stood alone at the long bronze table, his black cloak whispering around his feet. The ancient throne loomed behind him, empty for now. The murky depths of the fog curled and shifted like sleeping beasts, the stillness heavy with meaning.

He turned his gaze slowly toward the infinite distance — the place where countless cocoons hung suspended in the pale void, like glimmering seeds waiting to sprout.

He’d begun to notice them long ago. First just one or two, barely visible threads of light, then dozens… hundreds. Some pulsed faintly, others remained dim. Fragments of fate. Echoes of lives. Souls… perhaps.

Klein’s expression remained composed, but a shadow of thought flickered behind his eyes.

Today, something was different.

One cocoon — just one — glowed gently but unmistakably. Its radiance was not divine or forceful… but familiar.

Too familiar.

He didn’t realize he’d moved until he was standing before it, the fog parting silently around him like a curtain.

His heart — what remained of it — skipped.

The glow... It was warm. A soft kind of gold, like sunlight on autumn leaves. The closer he got, the stronger the sensation became.

Then he saw you.

Curled gently within, like you were sleeping. Your features were unchanged, peaceful. Timeless. Your presence stirred something buried deep in him — not as The Fool, not as the Klein Moretti… but as Zhou Mingrui, the young man who once held your hand under streetlamps, who once made clumsy jokes just to hear your laughter.

You — the one he had once loved in his past life. Before Klein Moretti. When he was still Zhou Mingrui. When things were painfully normal, heartbreakingly human.

You — the one he buried deep when he thought that world was forever lost.

His throat worked, but no sound came.

He staggered back a half-step, the fog curling around him like a ghost’s embrace.

“…Y/N…”

It came out barely a whisper, almost swallowed by the silence of the divine realm. His voice cracked at the edges. Klein had faced saints, angels, Gods — but now, standing before this strange, preserved shard of his heart, he felt more vulnerable than ever.

Your smile. Your hand brushing his. That one time you stayed late after lectures to help him study. The way you laughed — unguarded and warm — like light cracking through storm clouds. The moment he realized he loved you..

He closed his eyes, and the pain was immediate.

He hadn’t remembered your face so clearly in years. Or maybe he’d forced himself not to.

His breath hitched — subtle, almost imperceptible. But it echoed like thunder in the fog.

“…Y/N…”

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

For a long moment, he said nothing more.

He simply stood there, staring at the cocoon, the fog curling around his boots like the hands of fate trying to pull him away. He clenched his fists.

This is not possible. Not here. Not now.

But it was.

His mind scrambled, reaching through years of logic, ritual, loss, death, godhood.

He wanted to believe this was an illusion, some trick of the Fog memory — but the connection, the pain, was too real.

She was real.

You were real.

He felt it in the pit of his being, in the part of himself that still mourned human things.

“…Why are you here?” he whispered. His voice was low — careful, almost reverent.

No answer came.

Of course not.

You were dormant. Waiting. Like all the others.

But this time, it wasn't just another unknown soul. This was the person he had once dreamed of building a future with. The one he'd let go of — not out of choice, but because destiny had pulled him too far away to reach back.

And now…

Now, she was here.

Sealed in the fog.

Was it punishment? A second chance? Or something even worse?

His hand hovered near the cocoon, fingers trembling slightly — just slightly. Not from fear, but from the weight of it all.

If he touched it… would it break?

Would it awaken you?

Would it damn you?

He lowered his hand.

No. He wouldn't risk it. Not yet.

He bowed his head slightly, his dark eyes shuttered with restrained emotion. The Fool had no tears left to shed, but Klein did — somewhere deep inside.

“…I’ve come too far,” he murmured, barely audible.

The wind whispered back nothing.

And so, after a long silence, Klein straightened.

Duty first. Answers later.

He stepped back, not taking his eyes off you.

“I will return,” he said quietly, a promise etched in divine resolve.

And with that, he turned — his cloak swirling through the mist — and walked away, heart heavier than it had been in years.

[missy4176]

Zhou Mingrui x Reader 

Misunderstanding and Jealousy (Slice-of-Life AU)

Modern day, no supernatural events have occurred yet. Zhou Mingrui is just a regular university student.

—------

It started with a laugh.

A loud, warm, genuine kind of laugh—your laugh, carried by the breeze from the open cafeteria windows. Zhou Mingrui had just stepped onto campus after returning from a tutoring session he picked up for extra cash. The day had been long, his thoughts weighed down by half-finished essays and lingering existential questions that tended to follow him like shadows.

But then he heard your voice. And your laugh.

It should’ve made him smile.

Instead, he froze.

There you were, sitting at your usual bench near the café garden, leaning ever-so-slightly toward someone another guy. A familiar face from the Computer Engineering department, if he remembered correctly. The guy was grinning as he handed you a drink Zhou’s favorite drink, ironically and you accepted it with a cheerful thanks and another soft laugh.

Zhou stopped walking.

The irrational thought hit before logic could form: You looked so comfortable.

Too comfortable.

He stood still for a moment too long, his grip on the strap of his messenger bag tightening.

Was that a date?

Why didn’t you tell me?

Why him?

Zhou shook his head. No, don’t be ridiculous. But his feet didn’t move. His heart thudded, not quite in heartbreak, but in the twisting, confusing tension of something unspoken.

—-----

When he finally walked into the study room where you two were supposed to meet, he was ten minutes late.

You looked up at him, cheerful as always. “Mingrui, hey! Everything okay?”

He gave you a small nod and dropped his bag more forcefully than he meant to.

You blinked. “...You sure?”

He sat across from you without a word, pulling out his notes with a strange stiffness. His face was unreadable, but not cold. Just… off. His brows were knitted slightly, as if he were solving a complex math problem. But his eyes never quite met yours.

“Did something happen?” you asked, concerned.

He hesitated. “No,” he replied curtly.

Lie.

You tilted your head. “Are you mad at me?”

That got a reaction. His eyes flicked up to yours, startled like you’d touched a wound he hadn’t realized was exposed. His lips parted, but no words came. Then, he let out a low breath.

“I saw you earlier,” he said quietly. “By the café. With that guy. Looked like you were… close.”

Realization dawned on you. You almost laughed but stopped yourself. Zhou wouldn’t appreciate that. His eyes were serious, and that meant his thoughts had been spiraling.

“Oh my god, are you jealous?” you asked gently, almost teasing but mostly surprised.

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he glanced to the side and muttered under his breath, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

You blinked. Zhou Mingrui. Jealous. Not angry. Not possessive. Just… quietly, uncomfortably, humanly jealous.

He kept talking, low and unsure. “I guess I thought… if it were me, I’d want to tell you. If I were seeing someone. I would’ve told you.” His voice wavered just a bit. “So I thought maybe you didn’t think of me the same way I thought of you.”

Your heart softened.

“You mean… you thought I liked someone else?” you asked, trying to meet his eyes.

Zhou finally looked at you then. Really looked. “Don’t you?”

“No,” you said firmly, “he just offered me a drink because he bought the wrong one and didn’t want it to go to waste. That’s all. We were talking about a group project.”

The silence that followed felt loud.

“Oh,” he said. And then again, quieter: 

“Oh.”

His ears were pink. You smiled gently, reaching out to brush your fingers against his hand.

“You’re so observant, but sometimes you forget to ask,” you said softly.

Zhou didn’t pull away. “I didn’t want to seem… like I was assuming things. Or being overbearing.”

“You weren’t. You’re allowed to feel things, too.”

His mouth twitched at that half relief, half embarrassment.

Then he looked down at your hands, still barely touching.

“I guess I didn’t like the idea of someone else making you laugh like that,” he admitted.

Your thumb brushed over his knuckle, tenderly.

“Then make me laugh more,” you whispered, and for the first time that day, Zhou smiled.

A real one.

One that started slow, crooked, unsure but bloomed fully the moment you laughed again.

This time, because of him.

[missy4176]

Klein Moretti x Reader

The stars shimmered beyond the gray fog, distant and untouchable. Klein stood upon the bronze table of the Fool’s domain, his silhouette barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight of the ancient palace. His gloves were off. The crimson moon outside stained everything with a faint red, making him look less like a god, and more like the man you first met.

The man who died countless times. The man who shared your confusion when you both woke up in foreign bodies. The man who once held your hand under the flickering gaslight and whispered, “Let’s survive this together, no matter what.”

You were there through the sleepless nights when he poured over ancient texts, trying to understand the Seer pathway, trying not to go mad.

You were there when he buried his old name Zhou Mingrui and took on the mask of

Klein Moretti

Sherlock Moriarty

Gehrman Sparrow

Dwayne Dantès

Merlin Hermes

And the Fool

You were there every journey from the start until now.

And now, you stood across from him the same, yet different.

You hadn’t changed much, not on the surface. Your coat was still travel-worn, your boots still stained from the muddy streets of the Northern Continent. But your eyes... they had seen too much. Just like his.

“Do you regret it?” you asked, voice quiet.

Klein turned his head slowly. His gaze was no longer entirely human. There was something vast behind those eyes, like a sea too deep to measure — ancient, and terrifying. And yet, when he looked at you, his shoulders softened, the corners of his lips twitching upward ever so faintly.

“I used to,” he said. “There were days I wished I would question it all. Is all my hard work really worth it?

He walked toward you slowly, each step echoing in the silent realm.

“But then I remember you. I remember how you stayed.”

His gloved hand reached for yours — tentative, like the first time.

“You saw me when I was just a confused man from Earth, fumbling over etiquette and cursing the lack of air conditioning.”

You snorted softly at that, the sound cracking the stillness of the fog. He smiled, and the world felt just a little warmer.

“I remember when we used to read Roselle’s diary entries together,” he continued, eyes glinting with nostalgia. “You always laughed louder than I did. I think… that laughter kept me sane longer than I realized.”

He took a breath — unnecessary for the being he had become, but habitual still. Human still.

“And I remember when you knelt with me, whispering prayers to a name I hadn’t yet accepted — to The Fool.” His voice wavered slightly. “Even before I believed in myself, you did.”

Your eyes stung. Not from fear or awe, but from grief — grief for the boy he used to be. Grief for the way this world took and took and took from him. From both of you.

“I was afraid I’d lose you,” you whispered. “When you became... this.”

Klein stepped closer, the fog parting for him.

“You haven’t,” he said. “I’ve lost so much. Friends, family, even the certainty of who I am. But you — you’ve been the one constant. The only one who remembers Zhou Mingrui as more than just a name on paper.”

He stopped in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek, cold at first, but then slowly warming. “When I ascended... I thought I’d be alone up here. That divinity meant solitude.”

His voice dropped, reverent.

“But then you climbed the steps too. You stood before the throne, not as a believer — but as an equal. As the only one who ever called me ‘Klein’ when the whole world called me ‘A God.’”

Your lips trembled, but you smiled. “Because you were never just a god to me.”

Silence stretched, comfortable and sacred.

And then, he leaned in.

For a moment, the fog stopped swirling. Time itself seemed to hush. His forehead touched yours, and in that soft contact was a thousand emotions grief, love, loneliness, and the deepest form of trust.

“You were my tether to humanity,” he murmured. “And now… you’re my anchor to eternity.”

[missy4176]

I'm alive guys, finally open my account

[missy4176]

The Person You Smile For— Kim Dokja x Reader (Jealousy)

The campfire crackled quietly, its light dancing on worn armor and tired faces. After surviving the last scenario, your group had finally found a brief moment of peace.

You were laughing — again.

This time, at something Lee Gilyoung said. He was animatedly acting out a scene with his insect army, making little buzzing noises to mimic their voices. You had been leaning forward, your eyes crinkling with laughter, brushing your hand against Han Sooyoung’s shoulder as you chuckled.

From across the fire, Kim Dokja watched in silence.

He sat apart, as he often did, phone in hand, though his eyes hadn’t moved from the same sentence in ten minutes. He wasn’t reading. He was watching.

No one else would’ve noticed the shift in his gaze. Not with how expertly he wore his mask of indifference. But inside, his thoughts were restless.

---

"You smile too easily," he thought.

"Not at me. Not like that."

---

You’d known Kim Dokja long enough to understand that affection from him didn’t come through grand gestures or flowery words. It came in silent protections, in split-second decisions where he chose your life over his. In the way he always walked behind you, ensuring no one snuck up from the rear.

But even so…

When Yoo Joonghyuk offered you his coat earlier — and you’d accepted with a small laugh, pulling it over your shoulders and thanking him — Dokja had felt something twist unpleasantly in his chest.

Not quite rage.

Not sadness.

Something in between.

Envy, perhaps.

Or maybe just the reminder that he was never meant to be the protagonist.

---

He wasn’t supposed to care.

Not like this.

---

You eventually noticed his silence and wandered over. Sitting beside him, closer than before, you nudged his shoulder gently.

“You’ve been quiet.”

Kim Dokja didn’t look up.

“I usually am.”

You tilted your head. “True, but this is a different kind of quiet. You’re staring at the same page.”

He closed the phone, finally glancing at you.

His eyes held that usual unreadable calm. But there was a sliver of something else there. Guarded. Wounded. Careful.

You saw the way his fingers curled slightly into his palms, like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out.

---

“Are you angry with me?” you asked softly.

That caught him off-guard. He blinked. “Why would I be?”

“You tell me,” you said. “You’ve been… off. Ever since we got back. Did I do something wrong?”

There it was. That sting again.

You thought you were the one who had done something wrong — when it was he who was stewing in his own petty feelings, too proud to admit something as foolish as jealousy.

---

Kim Dokja let out a quiet breath, eyes returning to the fire.

“No,” he murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…But?”

“…But you smiled a lot today.”

Your brow furrowed. “Is that… bad?”

His voice dipped lower.

“Not bad. Just... not at me.”

The silence that followed was louder than any shout. The words had come out quieter than he intended — raw and unfiltered — and now they hung between you, heavy with implication.

You turned to him slowly. “You’re jealous.”

A pause.

“I’m not,” he said — too quickly. “I just… I noticed.”

Another pause. You didn’t laugh. You didn’t tease. Instead, you said gently, “You could’ve just said something.”

He looked at you, that same tired distance in his eyes, like he was afraid of being too close and too far all at once.

“I’m not like Joonghyuk,” he said. “Or Gilyoung. Or any of the others. I don’t know how to say things that make people smile.”

“That's not true,” you replied. “You just don’t realize how much it means when you say anything at all.”

He swallowed.

Kim Dokja had faced gods. Had stood at the edge of the apocalypse and laughed. But this — this simple moment of vulnerability — left him speechless.

Finally, he spoke again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear:

“I just… didn’t want to be the only one left behind.”

---

You reached out, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. He flinched at first, then allowed it.

“You’re not,” you whispered. “And I don’t need you to be the one I laugh with.”

He looked at you, eyes searching.

You smiled.

“I need you to be the one I survive with.”

Something in him broke and healed all at once.

Slowly — awkwardly — he turned his hand to hold yours.

He didn’t say “I love you.” That wasn’t something Kim Dokja could say easily. Maybe not ever.

But in that moment, as the firelight caught the edge of his expression, something in his eyes softened.

It was enough.

[missy4176]

A Last Goodbye

Cale Henituse x Reader

The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of your labored breathing. The once vibrant light in your eyes had dimmed, and your skin was pale as the moonlight that seeped through the window. The end was near—you both knew it. Yet, the man by your side, the infamous slacker of the Henituse family, remained as stoic as ever.

Cale Henituse sat by your bedside, his usual indifference masking the storm raging within him. He’d always been good at hiding his emotions, mastering the art of detachment to protect himself and those he cared about. But now, as he looked at you, that carefully constructed facade was crumbling.

The man who had faced monstrous enemies, and the burden of a destiny he never wanted, now found himself powerless in the face of your impending death. He had always been the one to remain calm, calculating the best course of action with a cold, clear head. But now, his heart was heavy, weighed down by the words he had never been able to say.

“Cale…” Your voice was barely a whisper, weak and fragile. Even now, you were more concerned about him than yourself. It was just like you—selfless to the very end.

He didn’t respond immediately, just tightened his grip on your hand. He felt the frailty of your bones beneath his fingers, the warmth slipping away from your body. Cale had always hated being vulnerable, but now, he was terrified. He was about to lose the one person who saw through his indifferent mask, who loved him despite—or perhaps because of—his flaws.

“Why are you still here?” His voice was rough, almost accusing, as if trying to provoke a response that would bring back the spark in your eyes. “You should have let me go long ago. You should’ve left, but you stayed, damn it.”

You offered him a weak smile, your lips trembling. “Because I wanted to be with you… even if it was just for a little while longer.”

Cale closed his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt and regret bearing down on him. For once in his life, he couldn’t run away, couldn’t hide behind his usual apathy. He had always kept you at arm’s length, believing it was safer that way—for both of you. But now, as he watched the life slowly drain from your body, he realized just how wrong he had been.

“I was afraid,” he finally admitted, his voice cracking. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. “I thought… if I kept my distance, you wouldn’t get hurt. I didn’t want you to suffer because of me.”

Your eyes softened with understanding. You had always known. You had seen through his cold exterior from the very beginning, recognizing the warmth he tried so hard to bury. Even now, in your final moments, you could see the love in his eyes, even if he couldn’t say the words.

“Cale,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say it. I’ve always known.”

His chest tightened, and he cursed himself for his cowardice. He had faced death countless times, stared it in the face without flinching. But now, he was paralyzed with fear—not for himself, but for you. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not like this, not when he hadn’t even had the courage to tell you how he felt.

“Please… don’t leave me,” he choked out, his voice breaking. He wasn’t supposed to be the one begging, but here he was, clutching your hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. “I’m sorry… for everything. I should have told you… I—”

You squeezed his hand weakly, offering him one last smile. “I know, Cale. I’ve always known. It’s okay.”

Tears he hadn’t even realized were there began to fall, staining his cheeks. Cale Henituse, the man who had always kept his emotions locked away, who had never shown weakness, was now breaking apart in front of you. And it was too late. The words he had always kept buried deep within him, the feelings he had never dared to express, were now pouring out—but they came too late.

You took a shuddering breath, your eyes fluttering closed. The last thing you saw was Cale’s face, twisted with sorrow and regret. And despite the pain, despite everything, you were at peace. You had always known how he felt, even if he hadn’t been able to say it. You had loved him, and that was enough.

“Goodbye, Cale…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

And then, you were gone.

Cale sat there, still holding your hand, even as the warmth faded away. The silence was deafening, the weight of his unspoken words crushing him. He had always prided himself on his ability to outsmart his enemies, to come out on top no matter the odds. But now, for the first time, he realized he had lost the one battle that truly mattered.

He had lost you.

And with you, he had lost the chance to tell you that he loved you.

[missy4176]

Watching the Sunset

Cale Henituse x Reader

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting vibrant hues of orange, pink, and gold across the sky. The sprawling Henituse estate, with its lush gardens and winding paths, provided the perfect backdrop for the serene beauty of the evening. You and Cale often found yourselves here, on the terrace overlooking the countryside, where the world seemed to slow down, just for the two of you.

Cale leaned against the stone railing, his posture relaxed yet poised, as he gazed out at the fading light. His usual expression—calm, unreadable, and with that characteristic touch of nonchalance—remained unchanged. However, the way his gaze softened slightly as the colors reflected in his eyes was something only you could notice. There was a subtle warmth in his demeanor, a quiet comfort that spoke of a bond deeper than words.

"Another day gone," Cale remarked, his voice low and steady, betraying none of the exhaustion he likely felt after the day's events. Whether it was dealing with his ever-growing responsibilities, managing the whims of those around him, or ensuring that things didn’t spiral out of control, Cale always bore the weight with a certain level of detachment. Yet, here, in this moment, with you by his side, there was a sense of peace that he rarely allowed himself to experience.

You stepped closer to him, the cool evening breeze gently brushing against your skin as you leaned on the railing beside him. The silence between you was comfortable, a testament to the understanding and connection that had developed over time. Cale didn’t need to speak to convey his thoughts; you had learned to read the nuances in his behavior, the way his eyes lingered a moment longer on the horizon, or how his shoulders seemed to ease when you were near.

"Sunsets like these… they remind me that not everything has to be a struggle," you said softly, breaking the silence with your quiet musings. "There’s beauty in the simplicity of just being."

Cale turned his head slightly to glance at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was a rare sight—Cale Henituse, the man who so often hid behind a facade of indifference, allowing himself to be vulnerable, even if just for a fleeting second.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice just above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the tranquil atmosphere. "It’s… nice. Being here like this."

You smiled in return, reaching out to gently intertwine your fingers with his. Cale didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch at the contact. Instead, he squeezed your hand lightly, a silent acknowledgment of your presence and the comfort it brought him. For someone who claimed to want a peaceful and lazy life, Cale had a way of drawing people to him, making them want to stay by his side, no matter how chaotic things became.

The two of you continued to watch the sunset, the colors slowly fading into the deep blues and purples of twilight. The world seemed to hold its breath in that moment, as if recognizing the significance of the quiet companionship shared between you and Cale. There was no need for grand declarations or elaborate gestures; the simple act of standing together, hand in hand, was enough.

Cale’s thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, a small, absent-minded motion that betrayed more affection than his words ever could. "Thank you," he murmured, so quietly that you almost missed it.

"For staying with me."

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his voice. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the usual guardedness in his gaze was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Cale wasn’t one to easily express his feelings, preferring to keep his emotions tightly controlled, but in this quiet, intimate moment, he allowed himself to be just a bit more open.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else," you replied, your voice equally soft, but filled with conviction.

Cale let out a small sigh, a sound of contentment rather than exhaustion. The world around you continued to darken as the last remnants of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, but the warmth of Cale’s hand in yours and the peaceful stillness that surrounded you both kept the encroaching night at bay.

As the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you leaned your head against Cale’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but the way he subtly adjusted his stance to make you more comfortable spoke volumes.

Here, in this quiet, shared space, with nothing but the distant sounds of the evening and the lingering warmth of the setting sun, you and Cale found something rare—peace. And in that peace, you knew, was a connection that would endure far beyond the setting sun and the approaching night.

[missy4176]

Unexpected Affection

Cale Henituse x Reader

Cale Henituse is a man of few words and even fewer displays of emotion. His demeanor is often guarded, shaped by years of navigating the treacherous world of politics and power struggles. He’s a master at concealing his true feelings behind a mask of indifference, but those who are close to him know that beneath that exterior lies a heart capable of deep affection.

Your relationship with Cale has always been characterized by its quiet and understated nature. He’s never been one to shower you with grand gestures or dramatic declarations of love. Instead, his affection manifests in the small, often imperceptible ways that he expresses care and tenderness.

One such moment occurred on a particularly cold evening. You were bundled up in a thick blanket, sitting by the fireplace, engrossed in a book. Cale had been unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. After a while, he got up from his seat and, without a word, moved to sit next to you. He reached out, gently tucking the blanket more securely around you before taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. The simple act of holding your hand spoke volumes, a rare display of his affection that you cherished deeply.

Another time, while attending a formal gathering, you noticed Cale’s eyes scanning the room, seemingly detached from the festivities. You felt a subtle nudge at your side and looked up to find him offering you a soft, albeit shy, smile. In that fleeting moment, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, a gesture so tender that it almost went unnoticed. It was his way of silently acknowledging your presence and expressing that you were a source of comfort amidst the chaos.

On days when the burden of his responsibilities weighs heavily on him, Cale might surprise you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, an unspoken promise that he will always return to you, no matter how long he’s been away. These kisses are fleeting but imbued with a depth of emotion that he rarely reveals in words.

Cale’s affection is not always evident in overt actions but rather in the subtle ways he integrates you into his life. Whether it’s allowing you to accompany him on his rare moments of leisure, or sharing a quiet meal together where he listens intently to your every word, these moments are his way of expressing a love that goes beyond grand gestures.

Each unexpected act of affection from Cale is a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. They are rare but cherished, as they provide a glimpse into the softer side of a man who otherwise prefers to keep his emotions tightly under control. These instances become treasured memories, marking the times when Cale’s love shines through his otherwise reserved exterior.

In these moments, you realize that while Cale may not always be overt with his affection, every gentle touch, soft kiss, and quiet act of love is a profound expression of his feelings for you. They are reminders that even in his reserved way, he values and loves you deeply, making each rare display of affection all the more meaningful.

[missy4176]

Finding Old Letters

Cale Henituse x Reader

The Henituse estate was vast and filled with countless nooks and crannies, each hiding a piece of history, a story waiting to be uncovered. It was in one of these forgotten corners—a dusty old study you rarely visited—that you stumbled upon a stack of old letters, yellowed with age and tied together with a simple string.

You recognized the handwriting immediately. It was Cale’s—precise, clean, and almost too neat for someone as seemingly carefree as him. Curiosity got the better of you as you carefully untied the string and began to read.

Dear (Your Name)

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because I’m bored, or maybe because I feel like I need to get these thoughts out somehow. You’ve only been here a short time, but things feel different. No, I feel different.

---

The first letter was brief, almost terse. It was from the early days, long before either of you had realized what you meant to each other. Back then, Cale had been a mystery to you—aloof, sarcastic, and seemingly uninterested in anything beyond his own schemes. Yet, here was evidence that you had already begun to affect him, even if he hadn’t fully understood it himself.

You picked up the next letter, your heart beating a little faster.

---

Dear (Your Name)

You’re strange. You talk too much, smile too easily, and seem to care about everything. It’s annoying, honestly. But… it’s also kind of nice. When you’re around, things don’t seem as bleak. I don’t understand why you care about me, but… I think I might be starting to care too.

Damn it. This is stupid. I’m stupid for even writing this.

---

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, imagining the scowl that must have been on his face as he wrote them. Cale had always been guarded, reluctant to show any vulnerability, but these letters were a glimpse into the thoughts he had kept hidden from everyone, even himself.

The third letter was longer, written in a moment of unusual introspection.

---

Dear (Your Name)

You’re going to be the death of me. You make me want to be better, to do better, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve spent so long trying not to care about anything or anyone, and here you come along, messing everything up. I’ve always thought that the less I cared, the easier it would be to achieve my goals. But now… I’m not so sure.

I don’t know what this is between us, or if you even feel the same way, but… I think I want to try. Even if it means risking everything. Even if it means getting hurt. Because I think… I think you’re worth it.

---

Your breath caught in your throat as you read the final lines. This was Cale, the man who had once seemed so unreachable, so uninterested in forming any deep connections. Yet, here were his true feelings laid bare, showing just how much he had changed—and how much he had always cared.

You were so absorbed in the letters that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

“Those are old,” came a familiar voice, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Cale leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” you said quickly, feeling a bit guilty for prying into something so personal. “I just… found them.”

He sighed, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. “I wrote those a long time ago. Before… well, before everything.”

You nodded, holding the letters close to your chest. “You’ve changed a lot since then.”

He gave a small, wry smile. “I guess I have. But maybe not as much as you think.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What do you mean?”

Cale glanced at the letters, then back at you. “I always knew, even back then, that you were different. That you could see through all the crap I put up to keep people at a distance. It scared me, honestly. But it also made me want to be someone who could stand beside you. Someone who deserved you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to take his hand. “You’ve always deserved me, Cale. You didn’t need to change for that.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand gently. “Maybe. But I did change. And it’s because of you. Because you made me realize that there’s more to life than just surviving. There’s living, and there’s loving, and I want to do both—with you.”

You smiled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad you chose me.”

Cale pulled you into a gentle embrace, his chin resting on top of your head. “I didn’t choose you,” he murmured. “You chose me. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, holding each other close. In that quiet, intimate space, surrounded by the echoes of the past, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Cale had come a long way, and so had you. But no matter how much time passed, or how much things changed, one thing remained the same: your love for each other.

And as you held him close, you knew that would never change.

[missy4176]

Catching Him Staring

Cale henituse x reader

You had grown accustomed to Cale Henituse’s intense gaze during your time together. His usual demeanor was calm and collected, but there were moments when his eyes softened, revealing a side of him that was rarely seen. It happened when you were lost in thought, when you laughed at something trivial, or when you were simply existing in your own world.

On this particular day, you were absorbed in a book, lounging comfortably in the study while Cale worked at his desk. The room was filled with the soft rustling of pages and the occasional clatter of papers. You felt his gaze on you, a familiar warmth that seemed to settle over you like a gentle embrace.

When you finally looked up, you caught Cale staring at you. His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes were gentle, as though he was taking in every detail of you with a deep sense of affection. It was a look that seemed to speak volumes, though he said nothing.

Curiosity got the better of you. You closed your book and met his gaze with a questioning smile. “Cale, why do you keep staring at me like that?”

Cale’s reaction was immediate. He raised an eyebrow, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. His expression was a mix of amusement and something deeper—something more tender.

“Am I not allowed to look at my beloved?”

There was a teasing undertone in his voice, but the warmth in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t entirely joking. It was the kind of smile that suggested he was keeping a private, cherished thought to himself. His usual smirk had taken on a softer, more genuine quality, and it only made your heart flutter even more.

“I just—” Cale began, then paused, his smile growing as if he was savoring a particularly sweet moment. “I was simply admiring you. You’re quite captivating, you know.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident, and it made you blush. Despite his usual aloofness, Cale had moments where his feelings shone through with uncharacteristic vulnerability. He was a man of few words and even fewer displays of emotion, so these small moments of tenderness were precious.

Cale’s soft gaze was a contrast to his usual hardened exterior. He was a man who faced numerous challenges and had a reputation for being cunning and calculating. Yet, when it came to you, that facade seemed to melt away, revealing a depth of affection that he rarely showed to anyone else. It was a side of him that he reserved for you alone, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how much you meant to him.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you with that same warm expression. “You know, I often find myself lost in thought when I look at you. It’s like you have this effect on me, pulling me out of the chaos of my own mind and into a place where everything feels just right.”

You were touched by his words, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. It was a rare and precious thing, seeing Cale so open and honest. You reached out, resting a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you, Cale,” you said softly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

He gave you a reassuring squeeze before letting his hand rest gently on top of yours. “Anytime. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”

Cale’s words and the look in his eyes made it clear that, despite his usual demeanor, he was deeply committed to you. It was in these quiet, tender moments that you saw the true depth of his feelings, and it made your connection with him all the more special.

As you both settled back into your own activities, the warmth of his gaze remained with you, a comforting reminder of the love and affection you shared.

[missy4176]

Protective When You're Ill

Cale Henituse x Reader

When you fall ill, Cale Henituse, the usually nonchalant and indifferent young master, surprises you with how much he actually cares. Despite his habitual laziness and penchant for avoiding anything troublesome, Cale can't help but be unusually attentive when it comes to your well-being.

Cale's initial reaction to finding out you're sick is a mix of concern and annoyance—concern because he genuinely cares for you, and annoyance because, well, this means more trouble. However, his expression remains calm and composed, the same blank look he's known for. He’s not one to openly display his emotions, but there's a subtle shift in his demeanor, a slight tightening of his jaw, and a softening of his gaze that tells you he’s worried.

He might sigh, "This is so bothersome," but the way he immediately moves to make sure you're comfortable contradicts his words. He'd brush it off as a small inconvenience, but deep down, he’s already planning how to ensure you get better as quickly as possible.

Cale is surprisingly attentive when it comes to making sure you're comfortable. Despite his tendency to avoid effort, he finds himself bringing you water, adjusting your pillows, and making sure you're warm enough. He might grumble under his breath about how it's such a hassle, but every action is done with care.

He'll quietly instruct Ron to prepare light meals or teas that are good for recovery, choosing options that won't upset your stomach. Though he doesn’t cook himself—because why would he when he has servants?—he’ll ensure that whatever is brought to you is of the highest quality.

"Cale, you don’t have to—" you start to say, but he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Just stay still and rest. Don’t make it worse by moving around unnecessarily," he’d say, his tone firm but with an underlying gentleness that he rarely shows to others.

While Cale isn’t the type to hover, he makes sure you’re never alone when you’re sick. He’ll stay in the same room, maybe pretending to read a book or doze off in a chair beside your bed. His presence is comforting, a silent reassurance that he’s there if you need anything.

If you’re feeling particularly unwell, he’ll pull a chair right next to your bed, sitting close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you needed to. Despite his usual reluctance to engage in anything physically strenuous, he wouldn't hesitate to hold your hand if it makes you feel better.

He’ll occasionally glance over at you, checking if you’re asleep or if you need anything, though he’ll play it off if you catch him. "What? Just making sure you’re not dying," he’d quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Cale isn’t one for grand gestures of affection, but his care for you shows in the small things. He might gently brush your hair out of your face when he thinks you’re asleep or pull the blanket up to your shoulders to keep you warm. These moments of tenderness are rare, reserved for when he thinks you won’t notice.

His words might be blunt and even a bit harsh at times—"Don’t be stupid and push yourself too hard next time"—but his actions speak of a deep care that he finds difficult to express directly. His way of showing he cares is through practicality and presence, rather than flowery words or overt displays of affection.

As you start to recover, Cale keeps a close eye on your progress. He doesn’t trust you not to push yourself too hard too soon, so he’s quick to remind you to take it easy. If you so much as try to get out of bed too early, he’ll be there with a stern look, telling you to lie back down.

"Don’t even think about getting up until you’re fully recovered," he’d say, crossing his arms and blocking your way if necessary. He’s surprisingly stubborn when it comes to making sure you don’t relapse.

Once you’re finally back on your feet, he’ll act like it was no big deal. He’ll brush off any thanks with a nonchalant wave of his hand, saying something like, "It wasn’t that bad. Just don’t get sick again. It’s annoying."

But deep down, you know that his efforts were anything but ‘annoying’. Cale’s way of showing love may be understated, but it’s real, and it’s there in every small, thoughtful action he took to ensure you were comfortable and well on your way to recovery.

[missy4176]

The First Time He Says 'I Love You'

Cale Henituse x Reader

Cale Henituse has always been a man of few words, preferring to let his actions speak for him. His personality is a mix of lazy, nonchalant, and strategic, hiding his true intentions behind a mask of indifference. However, beneath that exterior, he is fiercely protective and caring towards those he considers important. Over time, you’ve grown closer to Cale, and though he hasn’t openly expressed his feelings in words, his subtle acts of care and protectiveness haven’t gone unnoticed by you. But hearing those words directly from him? That’s a different story.

Cale isn’t the type to openly display affection. Instead, he shows his care in small, almost imperceptible ways. He’d casually drop by to check on you after a battle, making sure you’re unscathed before turning away as if it didn’t matter. When you’re working late into the night, you’d find a cup of tea at your side—lukewarm, as if someone had placed it there a while ago. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, soften when they land on you, but only for a brief moment before he returns to his usual aloof self.

Cale often brushes off any deeper connection by saying things like, “I just don’t want to deal with the hassle if you get hurt.” He’s a master at deflecting emotions, even when they’re plain as day to everyone around him. You’ve learned not to push him for anything more, respecting the boundaries he seems to have set for himself.

It happens after a particularly grueling mission. The both of you are tired, dirtied from battle, and the weight of your responsibilities hangs heavily in the air. As usual, Cale checks on you—nothing unusual there. But this time, instead of his typical “Don’t make me worry about you,” there’s a hesitation in his voice.

“You’re alright, right?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. You nod, offering him a tired but reassuring smile. He lingers, his usual exit delayed by something unspoken. You notice how his hands tighten into fists, as if he’s fighting an internal battle.

“Cale?” you call out softly, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, staring at the ground as if it holds all the answers. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says it.

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you, almost surreal. Cale Henituse, the man who seemed so detached, so reluctant to express any form of deep emotion, just confessed. It takes a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, your heart races. You’re caught completely off guard, your mind racing to comprehend the gravity of what he just said.

The moment those words leave his mouth, he stiffens. His usual calm, controlled demeanor cracks just slightly, showing a rare vulnerability. He immediately curses himself inwardly, thinking he’s let his guard down too much. His first instinct is to downplay it, make it seem like it’s no big deal.

“Don’t overthink it,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of his own words. “It doesn’t change anything.”

But it does change things. You step closer, gently taking his hand in yours, feeling the tension in his body. He’s not used to this—being open, being vulnerable. You can see how much it’s costing him to admit this, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

“Cale,” you say softly, squeezing his hand, “I love you too.”

His eyes finally meet yours, wide with surprise and something else—relief. It’s as if a burden he’s carried for so long has finally been lifted. You can see the way his shoulders relax, the tension slowly easing out of him.

Cale isn’t one to suddenly become more open or expressive after a confession like that. But from that moment on, there’s a shift between you two. He’s still the same Cale—calculating, lazy, and strategic—but now, there’s an added layer of warmth in his actions. He doesn’t shy away from touching you—a hand on your shoulder, a brush of fingers against yours. And though he won’t say it often, when he does, it’s always in those quiet, unguarded moments when it means the most.

His “I love you” isn’t just a phrase—it’s a promise, a rare and precious glimpse into the heart of a man who guards his emotions as fiercely as he does those he loves. And knowing that he’s entrusted you with that part of him makes your bond even stronger.

Cale Henituse isn’t one for grand gestures or flowery declarations. His love is quiet, steady, and deeply rooted in his actions rather than words. But when he does finally say those three words, it’s a moment that transcends all the subtle signs he’s shown you before. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability that solidifies your relationship, making you realize just how much he’s come to care for you, even if he still struggles to show it in traditional ways.

[missy4176]

Matching Accessories: A Subtle Bond

Cale Henituse x Reader

Cale Henituse isn't the type to express affection overtly. His reputation as a laid-back, seemingly lazy noble who’s more interested in a quiet life than grandeur is well-known. However, beneath that nonchalant exterior, Cale deeply values the people he cares about, even if he doesn’t always show it in the most traditional ways.

When you and Cale first got together, the idea of a grand romantic gesture would have made him groan internally. Still, he’s not immune to the idea of having something that connects the two of you, something that symbolizes the bond you share. But it had to be subtle—something that wouldn’t draw attention but would still hold meaning.

One day, during one of your quieter moments together, you suggested the idea of matching accessories. Initially, Cale raised an eyebrow at the thought, but as you explained it further—how it wouldn’t be anything flashy or overly sentimental, but rather something simple and meaningful—he eventually agreed. The idea of carrying a piece of each other, even when apart, resonated with him more than he’d like to admit.

The Bracelet

You both settled on matching bracelets. They were simple, yet elegant—a thin, durable band of black leather, with a small charm engraved with each other’s initials. Cale liked that the bracelet was practical; it wouldn’t get in the way of his day-to-day life, and it wasn’t something that would attract unnecessary attention.

He would wear it under his sleeve, where no one could see it. But every so often, when things got hectic, or when he found himself thinking of you, he’d discreetly touch the bracelet, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that grounded him. It was a way to remind himself of your presence, even when you were far away.

For you, the bracelet was a constant comfort, a symbol of Cale’s quiet affection. Unlike Cale, you didn’t mind if people saw it. To you, it was a subtle way to share a piece of your relationship with the world, a mark of the trust and understanding between you and him.

The Ring

As time passed, another matching accessory found its way into your lives—a pair of simple silver rings. You didn’t even discuss it beforehand; it just happened naturally, as many things with Cale do. The rings weren’t fancy, just a plain band with a tiny inscription inside—an inside joke between the two of you that never failed to bring a smile to your face.

Cale wore his ring on a chain around his neck, hidden beneath his clothes. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or didn’t want to show it off, but he liked the idea of keeping it close to his heart, away from the prying eyes of the world. He’d absentmindedly fiddle with it when he was lost in thought or when you were away on your own missions. It was a small comfort, a reminder that you were out there, thinking of him just as he was thinking of you.

For you, the ring was a source of strength. You wore it on your finger, and every time you glanced at it, you were reminded of Cale’s unwavering support, his unspoken promises, and his quiet but fierce love.

The Pendant

The final matching accessory was a pendant, one that you both received from Raon as a gift. The dragon, in his innocence, thought it would be nice for the two of you to have something magical that connected you, and who were you to refuse such a heartfelt gift? The pendant was small, a gemstone embedded in a silver setting, with a protective charm engraved on the back.

Cale appreciated the practicality of the charm. It wasn’t just a sentimental piece; it had a real, tangible use—protecting you when you needed it. He’d occasionally joke about how Raon’s gift was more useful than anything he could come up with, but you knew he treasured it just as much as the bracelet and the ring.

When Cale had to go on a dangerous mission, you’d hold the pendant close, silently wishing for his safe return. And when you were the one in danger, you knew that Cale was doing the same, hoping the charm would keep you safe until you were back by his side.

Cale’s Quiet Affection

Cale Henituse isn’t a man of many words when it comes to emotions, but his actions speak volumes. The matching accessories you both share are more than just tokens; they’re symbols of the unspoken connection between you. They’re a way for Cale to show his affection without having to say it out loud, something he’s never been particularly good at.

Every time you see Cale subtly touching his bracelet, or fiddling with the ring on his chain, you’re reminded of the quiet depth of his feelings. And even though he’ll never admit it, you know that these small gestures mean more to him than he’ll ever let on.

In his own way, Cale Henituse loves deeply and fiercely, even if he doesn’t show it in the traditional sense. The matching accessories are a testament to that—a small but significant part of your lives, a constant reminder that no matter where you are, you’re always connected.