Welcome to my Mind

Hello, my fellow fanfiction/blog readers and authors! I'm QuillForGlory (or quill-for-glory) of Philippines! In this blog, you will find various anime pairings (which is mostly SasuNaru for now) and other stuff that interests me. You may even find announcements of my fanfics which I will be posting in other sites. Feel free to browse and ask any questions~! Wattpad I Quotev

[akeshutranslations]

EGOIST (sequel to Clear Data 999;99)

Here's a translation for a shuake doujinshi by if A.M. 24:00 (もし午前24時). Read L←R.

Content warnings for an implied depiction of suicide, and violence.

Tumblr has a 30-image limit, so some pages are glued together! Make sure to zoom in view the full thing (if you want...).

[akeshutranslations]

Clear Data 999;99 (prequel to EGOIST)

Here's a translation for a shuake doujinshi by if A.M. 24:00 (もし午前24時). Read L←R.

Content warning for graphic depictions of suicide.

[applefishcake]

colonel caleb and assistant!nonMC!reader, who he's desperately in love with

warnings. fluff, tending to wounds trope, boss x employee dynamic but caleb is whipped, caleb getting rejected, reader in denial and oblivious preview. “I’ve always been like this,” he sighs, and then you feel him drop his head onto your shoulder. It makes you jolt, your breath hitching as you register what he’s doing. “You just don’t care enough to notice.” wc. 3.5k

Although he’s infamous for being the most ruthless officer at his rank, Colonel Xia is actually a complete mess.

You can’t blame anyone for the rumors—he’s rather intimidating in nature. Tall stature. Narrow eyes. Broad shoulders and a uniform without a seam out of place. He rarely smiles. Voice unalarming at first, but far more unforgiving than most. 

You’re like a fly on the wall, you suppose. You’ve been working as his assistant for years now, even before he’d been promoted to colonel. You have his coffee ready every morning, his meetings organized on your calendar, alarms on your phone for any big events he has. Your colleagues can’t fathom how you’re able to tolerate working for such a heartless man, but you don’t see it that way. Yes, you need to bite your tongue around him. Yes, you need to straighten your back just a tad bit more. Yes, and so much more. 

But, you’ve learned that he’s just as human as you. And he thinks there’s nobody else in this world that gets him the way you do.

The first year you worked for him, you were constantly afraid of him. Well more so getting fired, than him. He’d order you to bring him coffee and you’d fear he’d fire you for getting his order wrong, he’d order you to print meeting notes and you’d fear he’d scream at you for failing to print them double-sided. Fortunately, he did neither of those things, but he would shoot you a glare or a jerk of a brow that would send you into a spiral. He didn’t seem to enjoy conversation, so you’d just scurry away, clutching your heart in your hands.

As time went on, you learned a lot about him. It’s inevitable when you’re essentially attached to his hip like a mute accessory, where it’s hard to do anything but focus on what he does.

He likes his coffee sweet. Two sugars and milk. Surprising, since he comes off as a black coffee connoisseur, but also kind of cute? The big scary colonel drinking a latte? He showers in the morning and at night. Cold in the morning, hot at night. He does his own laundry. You eventually figured out that he’s very particular with how he wants his laundry to smell and how he likes it folded—talk about being a control freak. He hates his bosses. Whenever he receives orders from them, it’s the only time you see him genuinely losing his cool–grumbling under his breath and angrily flipping through the paperwork on his desk. You try to avoid his office during these episodes. 

Over the years, his routine becomes your own. His coffee is ready for him when he sits at his desk, his calendar organized perfectly, and even his laundry is folded the way he wants it to be. The last took some trial and error, but you’re proud of mastering the art.

Still, words between the two of you are scarce. You only tend to see him when he’s working (and so are you), and it’s made wordless communication between the two of you easier. When you stand in front of his desk, he takes it as a signal to clear it for you to place down a new stack of paperwork. When you knock on his door and remain under the doorframe, he sighs, realizing his bosses have called for him. When you place down a fresh cup of coffee at his desk, he takes it as a sign to have lunch.

It’s seamless coordination, to put it short.

There’s a particularly stressful week for him one month. You watch him slave away at his work, the bags beneath his eyes growing heavier and his hair becoming more disheveled. He hasn’t left the office in two days–you counted. He’s going to snap, you think. No matter how talented he is—and you know he is, given he’s become a colonel at his young age—he can’t overcome human biology.

“Shit!” you hear from his office. You peek inside to see that he’s spilled coffee on his lap. He pats aggressively at the stain, hissing under his breath when you place a new cup in front of him. His eyes flicker up to you.

“You have a meeting in an hour,” you say.

He frowns. “I’ll have to change.”

“And shower,” you scrunch up your nose. “And shave, preferably.”

He blinks, and then his lips purse in a weird shape. Wait. Surely not. You think you’re going crazy. Is he trying not to laugh? The colonel who's always glowering menacingly?

The lack of sleep must really be getting to him.

In the end, you somehow end up in the single-stall bathroom. You’re shaving the sides of his face as he fixes his freshly washed hair, staring at himself in the mirror. It’s to save time, you remind yourself as you wonder how many minutes he has left till his meeting.  He crinkles his brows and then glances at you through the corner of his eyes. You pretend not to notice. 

“Are you usually so comfortable in front of shirtless men?”

“No, but you’re not a man,” you snort. “You’re my boss.”

“I’m your male boss.”

Why are you so comfortable with him, you wonder? Well, you’ve known him for a few years—you know his everyday routine, his likes, his dislikes, his habits—that you might dare to even say you know him well. Not him, but your boss. You chew on the inside of your cheek, and then shrug.

His skin is soft against your fingertips, you think.

“Thanks,” he says. “For all you do. I don’t say it enough, but you’re one of the few people I trust in this place.”

“It’s my job, sir.”

He chuckles, and it catches you off guard. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard him laugh these past few years. And for some reason, you can’t look him in the eye, choosing to narrow in on the shaving cream you’re pushing off with his razor. He doesn’t say anything else either, and the two of you exist in the comfortable silence, 

This is where it begins. The blurring between coworkers and friends, and maybe something more.

The two of you begin to exchange more conversation. When you drop off his coffee, he makes small talk. When you drop off his laundry, he praises you. When you bring him his paperwork, he complains to you about his bosses instead of shooing you away. You gradually spend more time in his office instead of your cubicle. At some point, he even treats you to dinner. Company dinner, but still.

You quickly realize the colonel is a mess. His usually composed and serious demeanor is a facade—or maybe he just has a switch? He talks a lot. He specifically likes vanilla lattes, you find. He despises seeing others with wrinkles in his uniform. And he calls home once a week to his sister and grandmother, in which you happen to eavesdrop once or twice and find that he can be a complete sap when he wants to be.

Of course, his mask is pulled back on the instant another person is in the room. Your coworkers ask how you managed to get so close to the terrifying Colonel Xia (though you don’t even know if you’re that close), but you have to bite your tongue before you spread to the world that the colonel is actually a family-obsessed crashout who likes vanilla lattes and cooking. Maybe you’ve gotten too close to him, you wonder, but too late to do anything about it now.

Especially when he hobbles into your cubicle one day, blood seeping from his arm despite his desperate clutch onto it. It’s late. Two in the morning at the earliest. You’re not sure why you decided to stay late today despite not having the work to warrant it. But when you noticed his office door remaining closed, lights shut off too early into the night, something felt off. So incredibly off. 

You suppose you stayed for him. Just in case he needed something else.

“What happened to you?” you’re onto your feet in an instant, shoving your chair back as your hands hover over his wound. Half of his outer uniform is shredded off, leaving a trail of bloody marks and what you hope isn’t too deep of a cut. His face is pale, breathing shallow. Beads of sweat form at his temples as he looks straight at you, hunched over to your line of sight in pain. You don’t wait for his response and quickly shuffle him towards his office, letting him use you as a crutch.

You fumble around his room until you come across a first aid kit. It looks incredibly outdated, but it’ll do the job. “Take off your shirt.”

He does without complaint. It seems like you see him shirtless more often than an assistant ought to be.

As you tend to him, you begin to ask questions. And you’re not sure if it’s because of the exhaustion, but he answers them truthfully—though you suppose he’s rarely lied to you in the first place. It’d been an assassination attempt. Another one. The third one this year. You honestly don’t know how he bears to deal with the stress of his job, and you’re not sure why he does either, but you’re sure something is tying him down. Your fingers work diligently to tend to him, and you’re suddenly incredibly grateful to the first aid class you were required to take when you first took the job.

“You should transfer bases,” you mutter.

“Why would I do that?”

You raise your brows in disbelief, and he laughs—or at least, tries to. Another tally in your head. Now you need more than two hands to count the times he’s laughed in front of you. “I’m serious, sir.”

“And what would that achieve?”

“You won’t have as many knives at your back, for starters.”

“They could never kill me with those puny attacks.”

“But they can definitely hurt you...” you pause. “...sir.”

“I’m ranked highly for my age. I’m not leaving.”

“You’d climb back up in no time even if you started,” you snap, and he looks away. “Am I wrong?”

Nope.

It goes quiet for a moment. His shoulders fall, and he rocks his head backward, staring at the ceiling. “I won’t have anyone to trust.”

I don’t say it enough, but you’re one of the few people I trust in this place.

Your throat feels dry. Your stomach sinks for some reason—-or is your heart just hammering? You realize that he’s staring at you now, inches away from you as you hold his arm with bandages. The AC whirrs softly, but the only other thing you can hear is his breathing and your own.

“You’ll get another assistant.”

“Nobody else is as good as you,” he responds immediately.

Your eyes narrow, and you turn away, dropping his arm. “You must’ve not had many assistants.”

“I don’t need to.”

He sounds too serious. Too genuine. The air feels suffocating. You rise from the armchair and pace towards his desk with the first aid kit in hand, chewing on the insides of your cheek. Whatever he means—whatever he’s implying—it’s dangerous. He’s your boss. Your boss, who kills for a living on missions that could kill him. Your boss, who spends his nights passed out at his desk. Your boss, who most of your coworkers call an asshole. 

His hands perch on either side of you onto his desk. He’s close. Close enough for you to feel his breath on the shell of your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. Your fists clench as you will yourself to calm down, but to no avail. What the hell is even happening?

You whip your head to him. “Sir, I–”

“Caleb.”

“What?”

“Call me Caleb when we’re alone,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Your eyes go wide. “That’s not appropriate.”

“I don’t want to be appropriate.”

You nearly choke. He’s delirious. Perhaps from blood loss, surely. “You’re—you’re not acting yourself.”

“I’ve always been like this,” he sighs, and then you feel him drop his head onto your shoulder. It makes you jolt, your breath hitching as you register what he’s doing. “You just don’t care enough to notice.”

“What are you—”

“How much more obvious do I have to make myself?” he whispers against your neck. “Do you like humiliating me?” 

Either pigs are flying or hell must’ve froze over. You open your mouth to respond, unsure of what you’ll say until you feel him slump over your shoulder. You blink. Did he just?

You nudge his limp body.

He did. He did just pass out. You might kill him before anyone else does.

Colonel Xia, as you’ve known for some time now, is a mess.

But only to you.

He doesn’t make you nervous anymore. If anything, he’s annoying. Alarmingly so. You’ve become a kind of emotional support pet and assistant rolled into one, to the point that he deems it acceptable to message (spam) you at twelve in the morning. You roll your eyes when you see your screen light up in the darkness of your room, knowing there’s only one person who’d message you at this time.

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: where are the files i asked you for this morning? I can’t find them

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hello?

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hellooooooo

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: also do you have time tmr night :) we should go out

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: please (unsent)

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: oh the files

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: xie is on my ass about it

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: fucking asshole, im gonna kill him :3

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hello??? Where is my pretty assistant that nobody can replace

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: that wasn’t sarcasm btw

When you tap away your answer, pressing send and tossing your phone across your bed, the response is immediate.

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: thanks hot stuff ><

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: the office misses you already

The office that only he occupies at this hour?

You’re not paid enough for this. You ignore the subtle burning in your cheeks.

His feelings for you become an unspoken truth between the two of you for the next few months. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem embarrassed about it at all. Despite most of his attempts to egg you on being rejected, he doesn’t let most of it faze him. You remind him that he’d look bad to others if he started dating his assistant, but the thought doesn’t seem to even cross his mind, even if you tack on a dozen other reasons why the two of you shouldn’t mingle in anything romantic. He’s never really convinced, much to your dismay.

Which is unfortunate, especially when you realize how much this is affecting you.

When his eyes seem to always drift in your direction, even when he’s in a meeting, you can’t help but feel your heart race. When his name pops up onto your phone, you can’t help but check what he said immediately. You stay later into the night to bring him an extra cup of coffee.

But this is what any assistant would do, right?

“What’s that?” you ask a coworker as she paces towards the colonel’s office with a stack of papers. You eye it suspiciously, especially considering the giddy look she has on her face. 

“The colonel asked for these. He asked me, specifically,” she smiles, cheeks pink. “Y’know, up close, he isn’t so scary. He’s kind of nice, and also really cute…have you noticed that?”

Of fucking course you’ve noticed it. You’ve worked with the man for the past few years! Even when everyone else said he was terrifying. Even when everyone else avoided him! Before you know it, your fists are balled at your sides, and you don’t even know why. All you know is that you want to yell at him right now. What’s the point of having an assistant if you’re just going to use other girls? Is he taunting you? Does he have no use for you anymore? Is your work not good enough—even after you responded to him in the middle of the night to his stupid questions with his stupid cute emojis? Your annoyance burns, and you suddenly find yourself marching to his door after having snatched the stack of papers from the woman. She remains oblivious and completely confused as you leave her behind.

You don’t bother knocking as you slam the door open.

He looks up from his desk, eyes widening. Upon realizing it’s you, his lips etch into a lopsided grin. “Oh, hey, what—”

You stroll straight to him, dumping the entire stack just inches from his face. It lands onto the desk with a loud slam, and it surprises him as he jerks back. His gaze flickers back up to you, and he blinks. “Why are you bringing me this?”

“It’s what you requested, sir,” you snap, and his smile is gone. “From someone else, for some strange reason. But as your assistant, I felt it was appropriate for me to bring it, no?”

What the hell were you even saying? The words were tumbling out, fired by anger but uncontrollable. You were definitely going to die of embarrassment later on, but you don’t care in the moment. For someone who claims to like you so much, why is he asking other girls to get his things? What are you, some backup plan? As if you don’t bring him his coffee every day? His paperwork? His laundry—

He blinks. “It was a lot to carry, and I didn’t want to make you—”

“Yes, and let’s ask some bumbling woman who doesn’t even know how to make these double-sided. That’ll get the job done instead of asking the woman who’s been doing this for years,” you hiss. The more you speak, the more unreasonable it sounds. You know it’s ridiculous, but…

Gears turn in his head. And when it clicks, his eyes soften. His adam’s apple bobs as he slowly stands from his desk, seemingly beginning to understand your frustration. He’s always been quick to noticing how you feel, even before you could fully process it—and you don’t know if you hate or love it. 

“Are you jealous?”

You balk, appalled at the thought. “No! Of course not!”

“Then, why are you angry?”

“Because—” you sputter for an answer. “--I have a job, and—I want to do my job!”

He tilts his head. “Is that really it?”

“Yes!”

“You’re angry, because I didn’t let you bring me paperwork,” he confirms. "And I asked someone else to do it."

“Yes!”

His lips break out into a grin. “Sounds like jealousy to me.”

Your jaw slacks. Head spinning, you can’t ignore how your heart is going at an unreasonable speed, face heating in embarrassment as you entertain the thought. You can’t help but avoid his gaze, brows furrowing in an attempt appear more intimidating, but it does little for this purpose. So instead, you glare knives at him. His brown tousled hair. His purple eyes. His pink lips. The straight edge of his nose. His lashes that put most peoples' to shame. His grin. His laugh. That stupid fucking laugh that you count in tallies in your head, almost as if you’re always waiting for the next one. Looking forward to them. Yearning for them. His stupidly cute coffee order and his stupidly cute texts and his stupidly good-looking uniform and his stupid—

Fuck.

God, you want to kiss him.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of you, brow raising. “Sorry, I’ll stop teasing. I won’t do it next time so–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you yank him by the collar of his shirt and smash his lips against yours. The kiss is a mess. When he recognizes what’s happening after the immediate shock, he’s kissing back desperately, hands flying to either sides of your face to pull you closer. It’s awkward, given that you’re kissing over the desk, but neither of you could care any less. There’s a few grunts that escape your lips until you gently punch at his chest, pointing at your nose when his eyes flutter open. He pulls away to let you breathe, and he has the widest smile plastered on his mouth. You don’t know if you want to slap it off or kiss him again.

“Want to go again? On my lap this time.”

“Shut up, Caleb.”

You climb on top of him anyway.

He’s a mess, most definitely, but so are you.

[ah-reumgoh]

Love In Deepspace

Author's Note: Writing this fic makes me consider if I should get a laptop (My current laptop is old and lagging so I don't use it to write plus it's much more convenient to write on my phone). Trivia at the end of the story, just cause I feel like sharing on how this fic is born.

Pairing: All Li x Reader

Synopsis: You're a devoted LADS player who takes your obsession further by creating life sized BJD versions of all 5 Li. To you, this is the closest thing you have to your dream of meeting them in real life.

Maybe, you should have been more careful of what you wished for.

Note: This fic contains supernatural horror elements. If this is not your cup of tea, please turn away. Also, Reader is in her 30s here. 30 is not old, y'all but just in case, you're expecting the Reader to be MC's age.

WARNING: OOC due to the boys being dolls, violence on minors (specifically teens), minor depiction of bullying, parasocial relationship, unhealthy obsession, yandere-ish elements, self gaslighting. References and research are done for the creation of BJD from scratch but as I am not an expert on this subject, I do not guarantee the accuracy.

Primary study material used is 'I Made a LIFESIZE BARBIE Doll' by Moonlight Jewel on YouTube.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

Some days, you spend the whole week interacting with Sylus and do everything you can to increase your affinity with him.

Some days, you're fangirling over Zayne and lurk through Instagram and Tik Tok for any analysis you can find on him.

Some days, you're drooling over Caleb and scrolling through every fanart and fanfics of him.

Some days, you spend the time fawning over Rafayel and giggling at every interaction with him.

Some days, you listen to Xavier's Secret Times and Tender Moments when you need a moment of peace and fall asleep to his soothing voice.

You don't have a favourite Li because you love all of them. Each of them soothes a part of your soul that is wounded by the past.

Sylus heals the you who overthinks every single thing.

Zayne heals the you who wants to have someone who comforts you when you cry.

Caleb heals the you who needs constant assurances and affections.

Rafayel heals the you who puts up a strong and reliable front to endure the real world when you want to just be immature for once.

Xavier heals the you who needs a quiet moment away from the chaotic world outside.

You stumbled upon the game by chance one early morning when you couldn't sleep even though you have just returned home from a long overtime. You were mindlessly scrolling through your IG when you found the advertisement, where Sylus was featured.

His appearance drew you in, prompting you to download the game. At first, you thought this would be one of those thrashy romance stories you enjoyed reading at times. However, much to your surprise, it's more than that.

There's the sci fi main story. Then, there are battles. Then, the dailies. Then, the grinding.

And of course, the stars of the show.

The boys themselves.

At first, you thought Sylus would be your main because he's the one who beckoned you to join the world of LADS but as you progress and get to know the other Li, you realise you love all of them for their own unique characteristics.

Before you know it, you went from F2P to P2P in 2 years and you're still obsessed over this game. You work in a high paying job with an equal level of stress and you're single so money is not an issue for you. You would spend at least an hour with LADS and collect all of their cards and myths, ranking them to the max.

You would interact and fall asleep with them, wishing every night that they're real.

You were in a few relationships back in your 20s but all have already ended. Not necessarily a terrible ending. Sometimes, he just fell out of love. Sometimes, maybe you're too clingy. Or too busy. Life happens, yes. That doesn't mean you're immune to the despair it brought.

Eventually, you just stop searching for love and now, you're in your 30s and content with being single even though it can be lonely sometimes.

That's why LADS have been your escapism.

Yet it's still not enough.

They're in a virtual world. So close yet so far away. They will never be real no matter how much you pray for it.

Which is why you decide to do the next best thing.

That is creating a life sized BJD of the boys.

Drawing and 3D modelling are your hobbies and you have purchased your own 3D printer but you have only ever printed regular sized BJD with the biggest being the height of a 1 year old toddler. All of which you have already sold.

However, for the Li, you're not planning to sell them. Just build them to be your companions. Just enough to envision a glimpse how they would be if they exist in your world.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

It takes a year and half to complete your project.

Between your hectic work schedule and the spare free time you have, you work on 3D sculpting, printing, sanding, priming, spraying the skin tone, wiring, painting, wig styling and altering clothes for every single Li.

One can say you're practically drunk on coffee at the moment, relying on it as a fuel for your exhausted body.

At one point, you lost track on whose part did you print, sand or paint. Was it Caleb's abdomen? Or Rafayel's hands? You had to retrace your progress and check back your to-do list.

Rafayel is the first one you finished because his build is the shortest and smallest. By the Li standard, you mean. He's still gigantic by yours. Luckily, you created him using filaments so while he's indeed heavy, you can still carry him (Not recommended to do this often unless you want to put pressure on your back).

Imagine if you had gone for resin. RIP to moving him.

You place him in the spare room which you convert into your studio where you would put your completed and in-progress BJD, waiting to be sold and finished.

Now, there are only Rafayel sitting on the sofa and packaged boxes waiting to be picked up and delivered to buyers.

You brush his face with your fluffy makeup brush, just to dust away any tiny particles. You successfully sculpted him to be identical to his appearance in the game with only minor unavoidable differences since he's now converted into real life, not a 3D pixel model.

You dress him in his white dress shirt and black pants. The one he wore when he first met MC. Just to keep it simple for now. You can always order and alter his other outfits in the future.

"Finally. One down, four more to go." You mumble to yourself. Just looking at him makes your heart flutter.

You can do this.

You can finish them all.

❄️❄️❄️

You stare at your 5 masterpieces in wonder and amazement.

You can't believe it.

You did it.

They look absolutely magnificent.

Caleb is seated by the window bench. Xavier is laying on the spare bed. Sylus is leaning against the wall behind Rafayel who is still seated on the couch and finally, Zayne is standing by the book shelf full of your unfinished BJD projects and tutorial books.

They're all accurately as tall as their official height chart released by Infold, and therefore, they are massive.

"Wow...oh my god..." You squeal quietly to yourself, doing a little victory dance.

You spend the day fawning over your own creations, wondering if you should post this on social media. You want to show them off, to showcase your talent but at the same time, you want to keep them to yourself.

"Maybe another time." You mumble under your breath as you reach up to brush Sylus's synthetic hair away from his face. Goodness you, he is tall!

"If only, you guys can move. If I have some engineering skills, I probably would make a mechanism for you to move but this will do for now." You say, slumping down beside the bed where Xavier is. You rest your head near his hand, not wanting to touch him yet because you literally spent hours carrying and positioning them so the last thing you want is to accidentally cause any damages.

Ahh, you wish you can quit your job and just spend the days with them but your current high salary profession is paying for your BJD business which is still on a slow but constant roll since it takes ages to create the dolls. It's a miracle you even managed to finish up the commissions you received while working on your personal LADS project, considering how time consuming it is.

You suppose you have your many leaves to thank for. You have been so busy at work that you don't usually go on a vacation so your annual leave is piling up. Hence, you have been taking leaves to focus on your side job.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

Yup, you are definitely glad you didn't post your boys on social media because the netizens will definitely declare you insane.

You talk to your 5 humongous dolls like they're actual people and you begin moving them in different places.

For example, Caleb would be on the chair by the counter when you're in the kitchen. Xavier would be on the sofa when you're watching Netflix. Rafayel would be in the studio with you when you're 3D sculpting a commissioned BJD. Sylus would be seated on the floor beside your bed when you sleep. Zayne would be in the dining room when you eat.

Of course, they're not fixed in those places. When you're able to, you will switch them up, but since they're pretty heavy, you leave them in those rooms most of the time.

You know they can't respond. They're not real after all. However, it doesn't change the fact that you're happier than you were before. When you're sad, you feel comforted curling up beside them, imagining how they would assure you that everything is okay.

At this point, you don't care if they're not humans. You're okay as long as they're around.

"Guys can leave me anytime." You say, giggling to yourself. "But at least, you guys can't. I have allllll of you to myself. Isn't that right?"

You imagine them saying yes in their own unique ways and so you nod as if you can hear them.

'I'm all yours, Kitten.'

'All of me are yours, Y/N.'

'Of course, Pipsqueak.'

'I don't need a reminder, Cutie. It's a fact.'

'I'm already yours, Y/N.'

You can almost hear them replying to you.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

Your job really did wonders in paying the bills and of course funding your hobby BUT it's also stressful and exhausting. As much as you wish to quit, you don't exactly have sugar daddy Sylus to fund your lifestyle.

Today is the 5th time of the week you return home late and you are hungry but the restaurants are already closed and the nearest convenience store is another 10 minutes walk which you don't have extra energy to spare so you go straight back home.

You enter your apartment and turn on the light.

"I'm home, Sylus..." You mumble tiredly as you pass the living room. He is the one you placed there...maybe last week? Or was it 2 days ago? You don't remember.

Heading straight to the kitchen, you realise you forgot to drop your keys on the bowl by the door but decide you will do that later.

Caleb is seated exactly where you last left him. At least where you remembered he was. You have been so busy your mind is all jumbled up.

"Hey Cal..." You drape your body lightly on his back, resting your forehead on his hard plastic shoulder. "I'm so tired and hungry..."

He didn't respond of course. Not that you ever expect him to.

You lift yourself back up and turn away, strolling towards your bedroom. You just need to change and have a light dinner before going to sleep.

After a quick shower and changing into your pajamas, you pad back to the kitchen and open the fridge to see if you have any leftovers.

You frown.

There's a medium container of mayak eggs and a bowl of rice covered with cling wrap. You take both of them out, closing the fridge with your foot as your mind tries to process when you make them.

Yes, you would make a batch of mayak eggs sometimes but with how hectic your job is lately, you don't recall making them recently. Did you forget you did? Your mind can't seem to find the memory of you preparing the ingredients. Maybe the chaos of your work life is erasing your memories.

Or could it be old mayak eggs? But when you cut it open, they seem....fresh somehow. Like the marinade has yet to penetrate to the bright orange yolk.

You shrug mentally, placing the bowl of rice in the microwave.

You also can't seem to recall when you cook the rice. You didn't even realise you have leftovers in the first place.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

The next night, you stumble drunk down the hallway towards your apartment while your colleague is struggling to hold you upright and dragging you to your place.

You attended a corporate dinner gathering after work and had a bit too much drink. You usually don't drink a lot but since your clients are around, you feel pressured to drink whenever they are offered.

"Hey, what's your door password?" Your colleague, Jayden, pants. You're a lot more difficult to maneuver than he thought because in your drunken state, you tend to walk the opposite direction from where he's trying to steer you to.

"Iiiiiitttt....1...8...0..." You drawl, slurring over your words.

However, before Jayden can punch in the code, the door suddenly creaks open slowly. The creaking sound bounces off the wall in the silent air. An icy breeze softly caresses his exposed skin, sending chills down his spine.

He freezes, his breath catches on his throat. D...did you accidentally leave the door unlocked...and not close it fully?

"Y/N...this is dangerous. You should lock your door properly." Jayden scolds lightly but you're too disoriented to fully process what he said.

He is about to push open the door when his heart jumps up to his throat in terror upon noticing a tall figure through the gap. The silhouette is shrouded in complete darkness. Jayden can't see its face or even what its wearing. All he can tell is that it's definitely a male judging by the height and build.

"H...hey...sorry...you must be Y/N's boyfriend..." Jayden stammers, still trying to mentally calm his racing heart. Is it just him or the man seems...a tad bit too still?

There's no answer. Just silence added to the already void night.

He waits for a few more seconds but the figure remains mute so he tries again.

"Um...she's really out of it. Could...could you bring her in? I really need to go home. It's late...you know."

A second pass. And two. Did he not hear him? Is the man sleepwalking?

Then, a pale hand slowly reaches out through the gap. Jayden nearly pisses his pants because the appearance, though not abrupt, did scare the hell out of him momentarily. He could have sworn he didn't hear any movements at all. Not even a shuffle of a foot.

For a moment, he is reluctant to hand you over. What if that's not your boyfriend? Do you even have one? Jayden is your junior and is new to the company so he only got to know you on the surface level. He doesn't know anything about you outside work.

But then-

"Oh...? Zaynie...?" You slur, your head bobs up to look at the hidden figure before lolling back down. "Ohhh...I feel spinnyyyy...."

Guess that's truly your boyfriend then. Jayden gulps nervously before carefully depositing you to the hand. He doesn't know how the man will hold you with just one hand but he seems to be doing okay. Too okay even...the hand barely budges even as you're struggling to hold yourself up and clinging on the limb.

Jayden nearly jerks away when his hand accidentally grazes your 'boyfriend''s hand.

It's cold.

Not like the cold skin in winter.

Hard.

Smooth.

Almost like...plastic?

You slowly vanish into your apartment as your 'boyfriend' brings you in. Jayden watches until he can no longer see you and the door shuts with a quiet click.

Then silence.

Jayden stands there, unsure what to think. Is your boyfriend disabled?

Maybe the hand is prosthetic. That could explain the plastic-like material.

Perhaps he's mute. That might be why he doesn't respond.

Maybe he's disfigured. It's a bit of a stretch but it is possible. That would make sense why he didn't show his face.

Jayden shakes his head as if getting rid of the thoughts and spins on his heels to return to his own home.

None of the plausible explanations erase the uneasiness in his heart and the hairs rising on his nape.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

A glass of water and painkillers are waiting on your bedside table when you finally burst through the hangover fog after waking up.

And Zayne is seated next to you on the bed. You're practically sprawled all over his lap.

He was indeed in your room the last time you checked but you don't recall placing him beside you. That and you don't remember filling in water in your cup and searching through your drawer for ibuprofen.

And strangely, you are tucked comfortably under a blanket on your bed instead of sleeping on whatever surface you managed to land in your drunken state.

It's too...neat.

Then again, you were drunk.

Maybe you've become an organised drunkard overnight.

"Zaynie..." You whine tiredly, head flops back on his lap. You regret it immediately because he is made of filaments so upon contact, headache shoots through your hangover head. "Ow..."

You force yourself to drink and pop the painkiller in your mouth, downing with more water.

However, you collapse back in your bed, weighed down by the exhaustion stemmed from days of long hours and alcohol, so you return back to sleep. Today is the weekend anyway.

As you sink into slumber, you vaguely feel a light touch on your head...like someone is stroking your hair. Your eyes are too heavy to open again so you just give in to the darkness, lulled by the peaceful morning and the comforting touch of someone familiar...?

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

The next day, you decide to work on your commission. A client requested a 45cm BJD doll of Raven from Stellar Blade. Not a difficult feat for you but you certainly do need tons of references to get her face and proportion right.

Hence, you're currently holed up in your studio room with Xavier 'sleeping' in your napping station at the corner, which is really just a single bed with several pillows and a blanket.

It's a quiet and peaceful day for you. A little break away from your daily chaotic life.

You work on your client's project for several hours, taking short breaks in between. Before you know it, the moon and her stars greet you when you gaze out of the window.

Then, your phone rings. Your friend, Layla, is video calling you. You answer it, positioning your phone against the window in front of your desk.

"Hey, what's up?" You greet as you resume sewing the doll's suit. Knowing your friend, you're in for a ride because if she's calling, it means she's dropping a drama podcast of her life.

"Heyaa, how you doing?" Layla greets cheerfully.

"Good, good." You chuckle. "Judging by how happy you are, I assume you're doing good too. Spill the tea."

"Straight to the point as always." Layla giggles. "Anyway so..."

You listen, chiming in once in a while as she drones on while you continue working. You have work tomorrow but you don't usually sleep until about 10 pm. It's only 8.3-

Suddenly, a blackout occurs.

"What happened?!" Layla gasps.

"The hell?" You frown, standing up. "I'll go check the fuse box. Stay on the line, okay?"

"Sure, go ahead." Your friend ushers.

Layla messes with her phone while she waits for you. A few minutes later, she heard the squeak of your chair, prompting her to look back at her laptop.

"Is it the fus-"

Layla pauses, brows furrow.

There's no one there.

She stares at the screen, confusion settles on her face. She must have heard wrong.

Layla turns back to her phone when she hears footsteps. Her head whirls fast towards her laptop.

Still, there's nothing. The screen is black.

Her heart thunders against her ribcage, breath catches in her throat. She doesn't move for what feels like eternity when in reality, it is likely only a few seconds, eyes train on the dark surface as if waiting for something to jump scare her.

"Ah...." Layla lets out a shaky breath, chuckling nervously to herself. "It must be Y/N..."

She doesn't quite believe her own excuse but it did ease the anxiety inside her.

It doesn't last long though because she notices something she should have earlier...

Why is the screen pitch black?

Layla remembers clearly that just a moment ago, she can see the outline of your chair fairly clearly even in the darkness of your room. Did the call end?

But on her side, she can see that her Zoom app is still on a video call mode with you.

She squints her eyes, observing the screen closer. She turns up the brightness. Did your phone fall face down? But Layla was only looking away for a second and she doesn't hear any sounds indicating that your phone had fallen. Only the footste-

Layla jolts backwards, stumbling out of her seat, sending her chair on the floor as she crashes on the bed. A pure terror rips through her body.

The screen isn't black. Something is blocking your camera.

Specifically....

A pair of eyes is staring very close at the camera.

Unblinking.

Directly at her.

When you return to your studio soon after, the line is already disconnected and Layla texted that something came up.

So you resume working on your commission.

Had you looked at the napping station, you would have noticed that your Xavier doll is now sitting upright on the bed.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

On a rare occasion on Friday night, you go out with your girlfriends to the club. Usually, you would spend your free time either doing your commissions or playing LADS on your tablet, but once in a while, you do enjoy being wild.

Sometimes, when you're in the mood, you do bring a guy home though now, you wonder if you should because of your boys at home. You did place them all in the studio, just in case.

You suppose today is that day.

You're not looking for a relationship, just fun for one night. After all, just because you're single doesn't mean you don't have needs.

After dancing and chatting with your friends for a while, you hook up with a cute guy who your friends have been nudging you to make a move because apparently, he's been eyeing you the whole time. His name is Archer. The brief thing you know about him is that he works as a programmer. That's all you remember because you're more interested in his physical appearance.

He drives you home and you bring him up to your apartment.

"Wow, nice place." Archer whistles in amazement.

"Thanks." You say, tugging him towards your room. The studio is at the end of your short hallway, not far from your room.

You didn't notice that the door is slightly ajar, too focused on your current want.

❄️❄️❄️

Archer is generally a heavy sleeper, often needing an alarm or someone to shake him awake. Usually, he doesn't wake up unprompted unless his bladder sends a signal to his brain.

However, today, he finds himself cracking his eyes open without any reason. He finds it weird since he doesn't feel like going to the toilet but he reckons it's probably because he's not in his own bed.

He drowsily sits up, sluggishly reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

3 am.

Still too early.

However, Archer feels thirsty so he slowly gets off the bed as not to wake you up. You did tell him earlier to help himself in the kitchen if he felt thirsty.

He picks up his boxer and shirt, donning them on before walking out quietly. The hallway is dark but the moon light penetrating through the window provides some illuminations enough to guide him towards the kitchen.

The kitchen is located next to the living room so he needs to cross over the latter to reach the destination. However, his feet freeze at the entrance, his heart jumps up his throat.

Someone is sitting on the sofa. The back of its head is facing him.

Didn't you live alone...? You didn't tell him you were living with someone...

"H...hello?" Archer calls out nervously.

The person doesn't answer. Doesn't even react. Just still like a statue.

He gulps, anxiety gripping his heart but takes a step forward towards the person.

"Hey, are-" When he touches the shoulder, he nearly jerks his hand away in shock, but releases a relief sigh soon after.

It's a doll...

A humongous one but still a doll.

"What the hell...?" He chuckles to himself, wondering if it's a sex toy so he retreats back a bit to turn on the light to get a better look and so kneels in front of it.

The doll is life sized and seated on the sofa like a normal human, which is why it scared the hell out of him just now. It has deep purple hair and a mixture of pink and blue glass eyes. It wears a sweater on top of its white dress shirt which is tucked into a black pants.

The figurine is clearly a male but Archer had to admit it is beautiful. Judging by how uncanny its position is to a sitting human and its plastic build, he can safely determine that this is the type with ball joints so likely not the one intended for pleasure purposes, which means you might be a collector instead. Getting one this big must have cost a fortune.

Archer gets up to his feet, remembering his earlier intention. As he did, he looks down at the figure for one more time.

He frowns in confusion.

The doll is staring at him.

Like its pink and blue eyes actually positioned upwards, looking at him.

Archer feels chills run down his spine. Does this toy come with a special mechanism which allows it to move its eyes? He vaguely recalls his niece has one of those baby dolls with moving eyes.

"Creepy..." He mumbles under his breath and walks away to the kitchen.

A moment later, he exits the kitchen and passes the living room, eyes give a quick glance at the doll. His hand reaches out to turn the light off.

Archer freezes.

In the dark, the figure on the sofa appears as if it has turned its head around to face the entrance where he's currently standing. Archer can tell by the outline against the soft light from outside the window.

"What the-" He switches the light back on.

Nothing. The doll remains facing the TV, back against him, exactly as it is earlier.

Had he seen wrong?

Then, he clicks the switch again.

His breath catches in his throat, his blood runs cold.

The doll is standing now. Positioned sideways. Its head positions towards him like it did the first time Archer turned off the light.

"The f*ck?" The living room is bright again.

And the BJD is back to its original position.

Terror settles in every inch of his nerves. His hand trembles and his finger accidentally presses on the switch, drenching the room in darkness again.

It's standing again.

This time, its whole body is facing straight at him.

Archer yelps in horror, scrambling away.

The distance from the living room to your bedroom is only a few seconds distance away but as he runs, something is chasing him from behind and it's catching up to him fast.

Fortunately, Archer bursts into your room just in time, slamming the door shut just as something hits the wood. Not collision. More like banging the door hard once.

The whole commotion jolts you awake.

"Archer...?" You say sleepily, slowly pushing yourself up.

You find him on the floor, panting heavily, his eyes, which are trained at the door, are wide in utter fear. That alone dispels some of the drowsiness from your vision.

"Archer? Hey...what's wrong?" You get off your bed and kneel beside him, placing your hand on his back in comfort.

"T...the...the doll..." He stutters, still chained down by terror.

"Doll?" You frown. Is he referring to your boys? "Did you enter my studio...?"

"N...no.." He shakes his head, his whole body drenches in cold sweats. "It...it...kitchen..."

Seeing his badly shaken state, you help him onto your bed, draping the blanket over his trembling body.

"Hey, calm down, okay? I'll go check for a bit." You assure before turning around to head outside, grabbing your bathrobe from the hook behind your door.

Archer wants to stop you but none of the words come out of his mouth. He can only watch as you exit the room, shutting the door behind you.

You walk down the hallway towards the living room.

"Ayel...?"

Rafayel is sitting on the sofa, facing the TV. Did you forget to move him? You thought you had placed him with the others in the studio.

You turn on the light before walking towards him, kneeling in front of him. You tilt your head in a mild confusion.

Is it just you or does he seem...sad? Which is impossible because you crafted his face to bear a neutral expression. Is your sleepy mind playing tricks on you?

You're not afraid though.

"Oh Ayel, don't be sad." You coo softly, cupping his cold cheeks, as you have been doing for the past few months. You tilt your head up to kiss his temple.

When you pull back to look at him, he seems...happier.

Strange.

You get back on your feet, pat his shoulders and return to your room, turning off the light on your way out.

When you enter your room, Archer is staring at the ceiling, still buried under your blanket. He had occupied the side of the bed you slept on earlier. Your bed is positioned at the corner so he's pretty tucked in against the wall.

"I'm sorry. I accidentally left my doll out there." You say, climbing onto the bed beside him. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." He replies though his tone suggests anything but. You didn't press though and he didn't query further either.

"Let's go back to sleep." You say, slipping under the cover beside him.

Archer doesn't answer, only shutting his eyes, trying to get some sleep. You did the same.

You fell asleep soon after but he couldn't...

Because it has entered your room. The door creaks open wide quietly.

The doll walks in slowly. If Archer hadn't known that it's a BJD, he would have thought it's a human because its movements are smooth as if its joints are well oiled.

He literally can't move his body except his eyes, held down by pure horror. He wishes he had left earlier but he didn't want to risk meeting it on his way out or worse, being chased down the road.

The animated being hovers over the bed. The darkness around it conceals its face but Archer senses that it's glaring at him.

He expects he will be killed on the spot. He expects this will be his last day alive. Had he known this, he wouldn't have sent you home.

For a long moment, it doesn't move. He can feel its sharp gaze on him. Watching him.

However, none of what Archer expects happens.

Instead, the doll slowly drops to its knees in front of you. You are asleep on your side, facing away from him so you're practically face-to-face with it.

Momentarily, Archer expects it would harm you but much to his shock, the doll leans forward to nuzzle its cold nose against your cheek and then, rubbing its head against yours.

That....that thing...it...it loves you...

Archer couldn't sleep until the sun peeked behind the clouds. All while the entity stays with you the whole time, nuzzling you and holding your hand as if it's guarding you from him.

When it seems to be time for you to wake up, the doll lets go of your hand and retreat back to where it came from. He doesn't know how it knows that your sleeping time is up. It exits your bedroom 3 minutes before you open your eyes.

Suffice to say, that's the last time Archer met you.

It doesn't strike you as odd because it's just a one night stand after all.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

Your neighbourhood is generally safe. You're used to returning home late at night and nothing has ever happened to you so far. Of course, you don't take it for granted as you always take caution when you do have to walk home alone.

Lately, there's a group of teenagers who have been terrorising the neighbourhood. Namely by playing pranks on the people around. Teen boys being teen boys, their pranks can be malicious like throwing eggs at a home, splashing hot sauce at someone, pantsing passerby, etc.

You are no exception. You got catcalled and being followed sometimes. Other times, they throw lewd gestures in your direction.

You ignore them every single time even when they're persistent. To you, as long as they don't touch you or invade your home, they're dead to you. Sure, it's annoying and humiliating, but you really don't want any confrontations. Some of their parents are well off and influential people in the neighborhood. You don't want to get on their bad sides.

One day, you are hurrying home from work under the pouring rain. You forgot to bring your umbrella so you're drenched from head to toe. Fortunately, the rain only started to shower heavily when you're about a few minutes away from your home.

When you finally reach the entrance of your apartment building, you emit a sigh of relief and head straight for the elevator.

You can't wait to cozy up on the sofa with one of your boys while watching Netflix. Or you could have...if you weren't ambushed by the shock of ice cold water the moment you exit the elevator. It comes so suddenly that the icy temperature punches the breath out of you.

You couldn't move as the cold sinks into your already soaked clothes, hitting your skin, spreading icicles of numbness through every sensation of your body.

You hear the mocking laughter of the teens around you but you could barely register their presence because the freezing temperature is overwhelming. You recall the cruel joy on their faces and honestly, you feel like you want to cry.

But you didn't.

Instead, you just walk past their mockery, your body couldn't stop itself from shaking from the cold. Your hand feels numb as you press the password to your door. All while they're making fun of you around you, making you feel cornered.

You just want to go inside.

You want to go back to the comfort of your boys.

Thankfully, they didn't force their ways into your place.

It does nothing to soothe the anger and humiliation within you though.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

The group finally leaves your place not long after you enter, still snickering and joking around about what they just did to you. They head to the elevator and one of them presses the go down button.

The door slides open and they hop on.

Press the G button.

And down they go.

7th floor.

6th floor.

5th floor.

4th floor.

Stop.

They expect a person to enter when the door opens.

Nobody did.

Normally, this is not something even worth putting a dent in their thoughts.

However...the floor is completely dark...as if it's abandoned. The only light is the EXIT sign at the end of the hallway.

And the air feels different somehow.

"Close the door, dude." One of them says.

"I did but it won't close." His friend says in frustration, pressing the close button repeatedly.

Yet it won't close. Every time, it seems like it will, it didn't....almost as if something is preventing the door from doing so.

"Shit..."

They wait for about 10 minutes yet the door remains open. They even try to press other floors, only to be met with the same result.

"Maybe we should try going down the stairs..."

Nobody speaks for a moment. None wants to go down the dark pathway to get to the stairs but what choices do they have?

"Let's go then..."

Reluctantly, all 4 of them exit the elevator. They expect it to close behind them like in the horror movie, but fortunately, it didn't. Its light serves as their guide to the Exit door though it barely lit more than 5 feet outside the elevator.

The two only available lights did not penetrate through the void in between so they walk in complete darkness until they reach the Exit.

The stairs are just a normal emergency staircase available in any building. Since they stop at the 4th floor, they figure it won't take too long to reach the ground floor so they waste no time in starting their journey down.

Nothing happens for a moment but they do notice how the silence is unusually oppressive to the point they can hear their own heartbeats in their ears. The air feels heavy enough that they don't dare to speak and break the quietness.

Then, one of them notices something.

They're 4 of them in total and they're walking about the same pace yet among the padded, squeaky sounds of their sneakers, he hears the sharp clicks like someone is wearing a pair of dress shoes and is walking at a slower pace than them.

"Wait." He calls out to his friends, stopping everyone in their tracks. He turns around, but there's no one behind them.

"Bro, what's wrong?" One of his friends asks.

He didn't answer for a moment, still processing what he had heard. Then, he shakes his head.

"Nothing...sorry. Thought I heard something."

They resume walking.

He hears it again so he stops and turns around. His heart skips a beat.

A tall man is standing at the upper landing...shrouded in darkness. Something tells him that the man has been watching them. Wait...when they passed that section of the stairs earlier, the light was still on. Now, it only illuminates where they stand.

"Guys....move faster." The boy whispers urgently to his friends, who upon turning around and spot the stranger, immediately does as told.

Their shoes slap the concrete in a hurry but...the rhythm of the one behind them remains steady paced yet somehow seems closer to them now.

And he's catching up fast.

"RUN!" The boy urges in panic and they all rush down the stairs, skipping steps along the way.

Yet...the man is getting closer and closer to them without changing his pace. With every step he takes, he seals the light around him, carrying the abyss with him.

Then, in a moment of the panic, the boy looks back and that is his grave mistake because when he did, he lost his footing.

He slips, creating a domino effect as he crashes on his friends. They all tumble down like ragdolls.

For a moment, it's the chaos of screaming and body crashing.

Then, silence.

Broken only by the echoing and slow sharp footsteps.

Then, he stops at the bottom of the stairs where the group lie bruised and broken. They will live though.

Now that the mysterious man is towering above them, two of them notice his glowing ruby eyes, fixed on them with that eerily emotionless gaze, as if he bears not even a single remorse over their state.

The figure bends down to pull the phone from their 'leader's' pocket. The screen unlocks beneath his fingertips, which is mind boggling. The illumination from the screen barely touches his face, leaving him in the shroud of mystery. The ones who are still conscious see him tapping something on the screen before letting the device falls on the floor. The sound of it hitting the concrete floor echoes through the empty area.

Then, the lights go out.

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

You are down with a high fever the next day.

Your body is burning up yet you're trembling with the cold, wrapping the blanket tight around yourself in an attempt to dispel the chills. Your head is heavy, your nose is blocked, and your throat feels like you swallow a jagged candy.

Your fever is so high that you believe you're hallucinating or dreaming...

...that you see your boys around you...

...alive....

...not still...

It's not real but to you, it's still heaven.

Their faces blur when you attempt to focus. It's like seeing through a frosted glass. Even so, you can vaguely tell who is who.

Zayne places his hand on your forehead. His hand is strangely soft and warm. You think you hear him say something but you're not too sure.

Xavier gently helps you to a sitting position but because you're currently too weak, you're sitting while he's supporting your back. Your head is tucked under his chin as you nestle in his embrace.

Then, you smell something delicious. Is it chicken soup...? You can feel your stomach growling. You didn't eat dinner yesterday because you're too upset. The ordeal had taken a lot out of you.

Caleb holds up a spoonful of soup, which he blew a few times so you won't burn your mouth, to your lips. You accept it easily. The broth is divine, its warmth slides down your throat, slowly warming up your body. He feeds you until the bowl is empty.

You feel someone holding your hands, guiding them off your lap to your left side. Your hazy sight drifts downwards. Rafayel is holding your left hand while your right is safely trapped in Sylus's grasp.

Your eyes sting.

If only this is real...

You're so tired of being alone...

So tired of being strong for yourself...

So tired of having no one to lean on...

"Don't cry..." Through your blurry vision, Zayne gently wipes your fallen tears with a tissue.

But you couldn't stop.

It's like the wall you built around yourself has come crashing down, wave after wave of pent emotions rush into you.

You sob.

Quietly.

Not because you're trying to hide.

You're just too wounded to break into a wail.

You don't know how long you cried. Between the steady replacement of tissues and the grasps tightening around you, the exhaustion seeps in, making your body relaxes further in Xavier's chest.

Before you realise it, your consciousness sinks inside the pool of slumber.

The last thing you remember is how your vision clears and you see your boys' loving faces...watching you...

Their faces...are...oddly human...

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

When you wake up, you're tucked like a burrito on your bed, a now cold damp towel rests on your temple.

You are alone.

As you should have expected.

But the reality still hurts anyway.

Are you truly destined to be alone? It's not that you didn't touch the grass before. You did try to be with real guys in the past, but all ended in vain. That's why LADS have been your escape pod from reality.

Yes...it's weird.

Yes...you're obsessed.

Yes...they'll never be real.

But...you love them truly.

You emit a soft sigh and slowly sit up. Your fever has broken so you feel a lot better now. You will still take a leave tomorrow to rest more though as you can feel the residual effects of your fever.

You get off the bed, stretching out your muscles for a bit. As you did, you notice a strip of paracetamol and a glass of water on your bedside table. You frown in confusion.

"That's odd...did I place them here?" You don't recall doing so at all though. You were delirious yesterday after all. You sincerely doubt it but maybe, just maybe, you did so when your mind is out of it...somehow...

Shrugging it off, you exit your room and head to the kitchen.

A frown settles on your face the moment you open the fridge.

There's a bowl of chicken congee, wrapped neatly with a cling wrap.

However, you don't recall making it.

This time, you are certain you didn't cook because you have been working long hours lately so you relied mostly on takeouts or 7/11 meals. As forgetful as you can be due to stress and exhaustion, there's no way you would misremember this. You could barely get out of the bed yesterday, much less even cook.

"Weird...." You mumble under your breath, shutting the fridge door, holding the bowl of congee in your hand.

Unfortunately....you don't exactly have any explanations. You live alone. There are no signs of break in. Hence, ultimately, you attribute it again to your 'stress-induced memory gaps' as you did for the past several oddities you couldn't explain. Maybe you need to see a psychologist or something.

After breakfast, you take a shower and change your bedsheets, dumping them in your washing machine.

Then, you stroll to your studio with your iPad in hand.

As expected, all 5 of your LADS BJD are in the room though again, you don't remember if their placements are exactly the way they are now.

Rafayel is at the napping station, seated on the bed. Xavier and Zayne are on the sofa. Caleb is at the bookshelf as if he's searching for a reading material. Lastly, Sylus is standing by the window near the napping station, like he's watching something outside.

"Hey guys..." You greet instinctively. "It's been a while..."

You realise it's been forever since you play LADS and spend time with your doll version of them. You probably miss some of the events. You were often too tired to even scroll through your IG and Tik Tok for the latest updates.

The thought of resigning from your job did cross your mind a few times so you can focus more on your side business but you're not sure if you're ready to take the risk.

You dust their faces with a fluffy makeup brush, sweeping away any particles from their skin and style their hair a bit.

Then, you go to your desk and open your laptop to do a finance check on your BJD business and preparing to open commissions again.

This takes about 2 hours with short breaks in between. It was sunny earlier but now, the rain is pouring heavily, drenching your place darker so you stand up to turn on the lights located next to the entrance before returning to your seat.

You decide to play LADS, turning on your iPad. The rain outside dulls any sounds in your apartment but you can still hear the familiar theme song playing softly among the peaceful atmosphere, comforting your tired soul. The CNY banner and the download bar are displayed on the screen so you wait, staring outside absently, until it finishes downloading.

The contrast from the light inside your studio and the dimness outside lets you to see yourself and anything behind you on your window. You gaze at your own reflection before shifting your sight to the display section where Zayne, Xavier and Caleb are.

You pause, narrowing your eyes in confusion at the reflective surface.

The reflection isn't crystal clear like a mirror but something is off.

Was it just you or were your dolls' heads trained on you?

A tiny spark of fear hits your heart and you whirl around.

They're exactly how they were 2 hours ago. Zayne is staring at his hands, Xavier to the right while Caleb is facing the bookshelf.

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding. As a precaution, you turn to check on Rafayel and Sylus.

Still in the same position as before.

'It must be a trick of the light or something...' You mentally assure yourself. Even so, you can't help the unease settling in your stomach as you turn back around and look at the window again.

Normal. The 3 dolls weren't staring at you.

'Yeah...must be my eyes...' You tell yourself as you click 'Enter' on the game.

The loading page greets you momentarily. You wonder who will greet you when it's done. Since you have chosen all 5 of the Li, the rotation is random.

You never go more than a few days without logging in before. Now, you've been gone for a month so you're looking forward to the interaction you saw online of what happened when you didn't log in for a long time.

When the loading is done, you are welcomed by the vibrant CNY decoration, the jolly music and most of all, the sight of Caleb in his Colonel uniform, sitting on the couch, though that doesn't last long because a second later, he is standing facing you.

"Pipsqueak, are you feeling okay now?" He asks.

Oh? Is this a new interaction for not logging in for a while?

Two options pop up on the screen.

'Yeah, still feeling a bit tired though.'

Or

'Not really...'

You choose the first one.

"I'm glad. You were burning up yesterday."

You freeze. What?

"Have you eaten the chicken congee in the fridge? I prepared it for you." Caleb says with that iconic gentle smile on his face but you feel uneasy instead of serenity.

Is...is this a glitch...? This is too uncanny...terrifyingly accurate... it's like he's breaking the 4th wall...

"What the hell...?" You mutter under your breath. Chills race down your spine and the hair on your nape rises. What's going on...?

Caleb moves closer to the screen. "Don't be scared of us, Pipsqueak. We only want to love and protect you. You will always be safe with us."

Us...?

You look up from your iPad to the reflection in your window.

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb...the physical forms you created in this world with your own two hands...

...are all standing behind you...

"Eh?"

FIN

⭐❄️🐟🐦‍⬛🍎

Thank you for reading!

Trivia:

- The inspiration: I saw a short video in IG where the user showcased her/his BJD Caleb (Not life sized) sitting on a mini couch. If I remember correctly, he was slouch over forward initially, but the edit made it seem like he sits up on his own, which actually freaked me out lol. Unfortunately, the feed was refreshed before I could like or save the video.

- Extra Info: If you google 'Love and Deepspace BJD', one fan did in fact own a life sized Rafayel BJD.

- The title: The song 'Love In Deep Space' by Aeryth - One of my fave songs of all times. I think it was a fan song for LADS. The lyrics basically echoes us girlies' wishes to be with our boys.

- Supernatural Horror elements: Inspired by Asian ghost stories. And personally, while I think BJD are beautiful, I would never own one because they're creepy to me.

[orangelemonart]

If a rivalry lasts "the rest of our lives" then you are no longer rivals. You are GAY

[kora-kiroshi]

Sukuna shows up at your place so drunk that it’s like he genuinely doesn’t remember you broke up two months ago. He keeps calling you “his girlfriend” and can’t understand why he can’t fuck his girlfriend.

CW/TW: unwanted touching :: DV :: asshole!Sukuna ✦ wc : 4k

Part 2: here

You’re lying on your side, staring holes into the ceiling, and you can feel the night’s silence pressing against your eardrums like a thick, sticky hum. The insomnia of the past few days wraps around your thoughts, and the exhaustion from university classes and night shifts at the café sits heavy on your shoulders.

Cool air drifts in through the cracked-open window, smelling like distant rain and asphalt, and against the deep navy sky, a few rare stars flicker. You’re pissed. At yourself. At this never-ending loop of thoughts. At the way your body refuses to let you fall asleep...

When a sharp, slicing doorbell suddenly cuts through the silence.

You flinch.

Your heart stops for a second, then starts hammering again in an uneven, anxious rhythm. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, and your chest tightens with a dull, familiar ache when your eyes catch the time: past two in the morning.

Then your gaze slides to the phone wallpaper, dark and blank.

It used to be a photo of you and Sukuna. You were laughing, and he was squinting slightly, looking somewhere past the camera with that eternal, almost arrogant calm on his face.

But you broke up. Two months ago...

The knocking comes again, harsh and insistent, and then someone kicks the door hard. A dull, terrifying thud that makes the walls shudder. If Sukuna were here… if you were still together… you wouldn’t be this scared. But he’s not. And you’re alone.

Anger, sharp and instant, cuts right through the exhaustion.

You get up. Bare feet slap against the cold floor. You walk to the door, press your temple against it, listening.

Another kick. And then you hear a man’s voice. Low, rough, drunk and messy, but so familiar it makes your skin crawl.

“Hey… open up… shit… did you fall asleep?”

And your name, yelled like he hates it and wants it at the same time. Something inside you goes ice-cold. Your first instinct is to scream through the door and tell Sukuna to go to hell.

Another kick. Then a muffled laugh.

“Open the fucking door…”

He’s drunk?

Your second thought is the neighbors. The old lady upstairs. Her calling the cops. You exhale hard, fingers tightening around the handle, and you yank the door open, ready to slam it shut again immediately.

Sukuna is standing there, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He can barely stay upright, and his nearly two-meter height doesn’t look intimidating right now. It looks unstable. His peach-colored hair, usually spiked up in sharp strands, is a mess, sticking out everywhere, clumped and dirty like he’s dragged his hands through it a hundred times. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt stretched over his chest, broad shoulders and torso, stained with dark, unclear spots. Dirt. Spilled beer. Maybe blood… if he smashed someone’s face in again.

You always hated his aggression.

Sukuna stares down at his scuffed boots for a couple seconds, then slowly, with effort, lifts his head when he realizes the door is open. His gaze is blurred, drowned in alcohol, drifting for a long moment before it finally focuses on you. And on his slightly parted lips, a wide, drunk, painfully familiar triumphant grin spreads.

Found you.

It scares you so badly your knees tremble.

Why is he here? To talk?

Sukuna never knew how to do that.

“Well, finally,” he rasps, and his breath, heavy and sweet-bitter with booze, makes you recoil.

You grimace, trying to shut the door, but he already collapses forward with all the weight of his heavy body and you, like an idiot, catch him. You’ve never seen him like this. This drunk. Alcohol rarely hit him like this. Sukuna always kept control, even when his eyes went glassy.

Now he’s disheveled, heavy, and stupid.

He stumbles into the hallway, and you instinctively brace your shoulder so he doesn’t crash onto the floor. You regret it immediately when your joints pop. His weight is muscular, solid, unexpectedly warm. And Sukuna instantly presses you against the wall, making you gasp from the force.

Something inside you turns cold from the sudden closeness, from the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol and that expensive cologne you once picked out and gave him for your anniversary. Something twists painfully inside your chest. And somewhere deep down, traitorous and quiet, something warm and familiar stirs…

“M… so tired,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. A hot, damp breath burns your skin. His lips drag along your jawline. “Came to my girl…”

You press your palms against his chest, trying to push him away, and your voice comes out strained.

“Sukuna, you… what are you doing here?”

You try to wriggle out from under him. Sukuna pulls back just slightly, staring down at you with a frown, because you always used to call him just “Kuna.” You cautiously lift your gaze to his face…

You don’t know what to expect from him. Not now. His height always overwhelmed you, but in a good way. You used to feel protected. Hidden. Safe.

Now it’s just a threatening physical difference. But Sukuna’s expression is pure, genuine confusion.

“I came home. Dumbass. To you.” He says it like it’s obvious, like there’s no argument to be had. His hand drops heavy on the back of your head, his thumb brushing along your jaw. That familiar possessive gesture.

You freeze. Did he… forget? Did his drunk haze erase the last two months? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish you could forget too. You swallow the lump in your throat. Anger and something aching, pathetic, like the butterflies that used to flutter in your stomach when he looked at you…

Sukuna was always like this.

“Leave,” you say, firmer than you feel. “Right now.”

But Sukuna doesn’t seem to hear you. Or maybe he decides you’re just mad because he came home late. His gaze slides lower, catching on your shorts, and that lazy, pleased look spreads across his face.

“Dressed up for me, huh?” he rasps, voice thick with drunken purring.

“Asshole,” flashes through your mind.

But your hands move on their own. You shove him toward the hallway, toward your bedroom. Toward his bedroom. Toward your bedroom. One thought only: get your dead drunk ex onto the bed, call Toji, make him come pick up this wasted idiot.

And Sukuna follows obediently, clumsy, leaning on you with his arm thrown over your shoulder. His fingers dig into your muscles, and just the thought of him grabbing your chest like he used to makes your stomach twist.

The room smells like you. Books and dust. His scent faded from here two weeks after the breakup. And maybe that’s why Sukuna’s lips twitch in confusion as he looks around, trying to figure out what’s wrong, what’s changed. He doesn’t remember he hasn’t been here in two months.

You guide him to the edge of the bed, and he drops down heavily onto the mattress, making the springs squeal. He flops onto his side, and your eyes slide along the line of his back beneath his damp shirt, the familiar shape of his shoulders you used to kiss.

You hate yourself for it.

You climb onto the bed with one knee and reach for your phone lying in the middle of the blanket. But Sukuna moves faster. Long fingers, veins standing out, black tattoo markings wrapping his wrists. He snatches your phone first, his grip crushing the black case like it might crack. Sukuna manages to pull you in by the shoulders with his other arm, and you feel his body tense instantly, like he’s about to fight…

“What…” he mutters, jabbing at the screen. His brows knit. “Why… where am I?.. No… where are we?..”

You try to grab the phone back, but he shoves you forward with drunk, misjudged strength. Not cruel, more impatient and annoyed, but it’s too much for you. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed. The mattress catches you with a dull thump. Air punches out of your lungs.

You gasp, pushing your hair off your forehead, lying there, and in your chest something familiar sparks, bright and furious. A mix of rage and old attraction you thought you’d buried. You remind yourself fast who Sukuna Ryomen is and why you’re not together anymore.

He was always stronger. Always able to pin you down, ignore your protests. And before, in that haze of passion, you liked it. You liked feeling conquered when he pushed you into the pillows, covering you completely, driving his cock into your pussy, thrusting and growling into your ear until the world narrowed down to his breath and your own voice breaking into moans. Now that memory sends chills across your skin, from shame and something else.

Sukuna was always stronger.

The memory makes your skin prickle. You shake your head, forcing yourself back into reality, and search for him with your eyes. Sukuna stands frozen at the foot of the bed, your phone still in his hand. The screen lights his face from below, carving harsh, dangerous shadows under his cheekbones, in the corners of his mouth, along his neck.

“You… why’d you change the wallpaper?” His voice is low, annoyed, almost whiny. He keeps tapping the screen with his thumb, trying to unlock it. “What the hell… You changed the password? Our password… the day we…”

He cuts off, unable to remember the date. And you’re lying there, not knowing what to say. How do you explain that it’s over?

Sukuna was always such a bastard.

“Why?”

Sukuna lifts his gaze to you, confused. In his blurred pupils, disbelief flickers. He’s waiting for an explanation. And you’re lying there in shock, not knowing what to tell him.

Sukuna was always a bastard.

Mean, sharp, jealous to the point of obsession, and rough in a way he called “honesty.” He could pick a fight with your friend just because the guy hugged you when you met. “You’re my girlfriend,” he’d growl later, pulling you into him so hard it left bruises, and you, stupid, used to think that was love. He never told you he loved you. And at the same time, he let other girls hang off him in clubs, not encouraging it, but not pushing them away either.

Because he didn’t care.

He always said: they did it themselves.

They were the ones leaving hickeys and lipstick on his neck.

They were the ones crawling into his pants...

His indifference always hurt more than active flirting. And that, that blind, egocentric irresponsibility, is why you broke up. And you thought you’d almost erased that bitter aftertaste from your memory, that itch at the roof of your mouth. The intoxicating shadow of his superiority.

Before you can gather yourself and scream the truth at him, Sukuna suddenly, irritated, throws your phone into the corner. The sound of plastic smacking against the wall cracks through the silence, dry and painful.

You tense up in fear, staring at it.

Is he mad? Like, actually mad?

You look back and freeze, watching Sukuna yank his black t-shirt over his head with force, fabric tearing with an angry rustle. His movements are clumsy, drunk. In the dim light, the ink-black patterns of his tattoos stand out on his skin: rings around his shoulders, stripes low on his stomach, the intricate design on his ribs you once could’ve traced with your lips with your eyes closed.

Your chest tightens so hard you can’t breathe. Treacherous heat pools low in your stomach. Your body still hasn’t forgotten him.

But the sound of his jeans zipper sliding down snaps you back into reality.

“Stop! Sukuna, don’t!” it tears out of you, almost like a plea.

You jerk backward, trying to crawl toward the headboard, but the sheet tangles around your legs. Sukuna laughs, low and hoarse.

“C’mere, my girl.”

The sound is deep and vibrating, sending chills down your spine. His voice used to drive you insane. Now it just scares you.

A swarm of butterflies in your stomach, hateful and unwanted.

Sukuna climbs onto the bed on one knee, deciding not to pull his jeans off yet, moves closer, and grabs your ankle. Easily, like it takes no effort at all, he drags you back toward him, back to the center of the bed, to his legs. You slide across the blanket, letting out a helpless squeak.

He always did this.

Always.

“Let go!” you panic, shoving his chest with your palm. Your fingers press into the familiar hardness of his shoulder. “What the fuck?! Get off me! Don’t touch me! Get out, I’m serious!”

Sukuna frowns harder, annoyed. His brows are pulled together, jaw tense, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He doesn’t let go of your leg. His thumb starts rubbing the bone of your ankle. An unconscious, familiar soothing gesture he used to do when you were stressed before exams.

“What the fuck is your problem? What happened?!” he snaps.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” you almost scream. Tears sting your eyes.

“…I came to my girlfriend,” Sukuna says, baffled, and keeps mumbling incoherently. “Missed fucking. Missed you, huh? Why you… why are you yelling at me? What’s wrong?.. Don’t get it…”

Sukuna leans closer, and his shadow covers you completely, and you can barely breathe.

“I’M NOT your girlfriend!” you scream. “We broke up! Two months ago! What, did you get hit in the head and forget?! We’re not together anymore!”

Sukuna stares at you, and it’s like your words only reach him minutes later. He blinks slowly, processing. And he ignores the point, latching onto something else, something he thinks must be the reason for your “hysterics.”

“I… didn’t fuck anyone today,” he mumbles. His tone sounds hurt. Defensive. He shifts higher, his knee pressing into the mattress between your legs, and you inhale sharply, fingers clenching the sheets. “Didn’t cheat on you, baby. Didn’t even look at them. Why you jealous, idiot…”

“I’m not jealous! You don’t get it, dumbass! You’re drunk and stupid! Get off me!”

“No one…”

Sukuna ignores your protests, dropping his gaze to his hands braced on the mattress on either side of your waist. He looks like he’s talking to himself, trying to piece his thoughts together. His voice grows quieter, more lost, and suddenly there’s insecurity in it, something you’ve never heard from him before.

“Haven’t fucked anyone for… for two months… since my… girlfriend… left me?”

The last part sounds like an unsure question, like he’s not even certain he understood it right. Your breath catches. He said he… hasn’t fucked anyone for two months? For Sukuna, the eternal “womanizer” he used to call himself, two months of complete abstinence is basically eternity. And you don’t believe it.

The first couple weeks after the breakup, you had nightmares about him fucking other girls. And this quiet, drunk confession that slips out against his will knocks the ground out from under you.

Why would he?..

Sukuna frowns harder, bares his teeth slightly, and now his gaze, still blurry but sharper, locks onto you. There’s real, almost childish confusion in it, and a kind of vulnerability he’d never show sober. His body hovering over you suddenly feels less threatening and more… scared?

“We’re not… together anymore?” he mutters.

His hand finally lets go of your ankle, but now Sukuna touches your thigh carefully, like he doesn’t fully believe it yet and doesn’t know if you’re about to shove him away.

And you nod slowly, hoping it finally sinks in where he is and who he’s with.

“No, Sukuna. We’re not together. And that’s why we can’t have sex. Do you understand?”

But Sukuna unexpectedly moves even closer instead of backing off. His face is inches from yours. You see tiny golden flecks in his irises, red veins in the whites of his eyes, and your own reflection in his pupils.

His breath mixes with yours.

“Why?” he sounds offended. Almost hurt. His brows lift, lips pressing together slightly. “Why can’t we fuck? If I want you. If you’re… here. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Mine,” said with drunken but unshakable certainty. That’s his selfishness. His inability to let go. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter. And you’re lying beneath him, just as lost and unsure of what happens next, because this drunk, confused bastard, your ex, is looking at you like you just took the most precious thing away from him.

And he doesn’t understand why.

His question, “why can’t we fuck?” is absurd.

If he wants it, then you can.

You always belonged to him.

You always loved his cock.

So why not now?

His breath, still reeking of whiskey and mixed beer, hits your face. You watch his dilated pupils narrow on your features, trying to read the answer in your clenched lips. His thumb starts moving slowly along your leg, tracing a line from your knee upward, toward your inner thigh. His touch is rough from his healed knuckles, but endlessly familiar.

Sukuna shifts closer with his whole body.

“Why?” he repeats. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not ‘yours,’” you whisper, losing your edge.

He’s too close, and he still refuses to accept that you’re not together, like he’s just putting that reality off for later. Like he always did.

“Sukuna, you’re drunk.”

“I wanna sleep…” he mutters. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

Sukuna leans even lower, his forehead almost touching yours. His eyes are hazy, but sparks dance in them. He takes an uncertain breath, presses into your neck, and you shiver with goosebumps.

“I wanna sleep on my pillow…”

Your heart is pounding.

He’s talking about your pillow. You still sleep on your side of the bed, and his side stays empty, but you never changed the pillows. It’s stupid, something you never let yourself think about…

“That’s not your pillow,” you try to sound harsh, but the words come out quiet.

“It’s so comfy,” he ignores you.

He always does.

His hand leaves your thigh and rises to your face. You freeze, expecting something rough, but his fingers barely brush your temple, sweeping a strand of hair away.

Surprisingly gentle.

“You’re so pretty, like…”

He furrows his brow, trying to find the words, and he looks so unlike his usual arrogant, rough self that a sharp wave of pity hits you again. He doesn’t find the right words. And it pisses him off. His brows knit, and that familiar aggression flashes in his eyes, then fades again into the alcohol haze.

“Can’t fuck,” he mumbles, repeating your words. “But… can I hug you?”

You open your mouth to say no, but you don’t get the chance. Sukuna doesn’t wait for an answer, or maybe he’s just too tired to wait, because he slowly collapses onto you with a low groan, dumping his full weight on you. His head drops heavy against your chest and higher, his nose pressing into the curve of your neck. Peach hair tickles your chin.

His arms wrap tight around your waist.

Sukuna presses into you. Big, hot… shaking?

“Kuna…” you try to protest, but he only hums, burying his face into your shirt.

“Quiet. Just… lay here. Like before. I… I feel so fucking bad without you,” his whisper is muffled.

His heart is beating somewhere under your chest, fast and uneven. You feel how tense the muscles in his back are beneath your hands, hands you don’t even realize you placed on his shoulders. You stroke him slowly, over the familiar curve of his shoulder blades, down his spine. And he lets out a quiet sound, half-growl, half-satisfied purr.

“Like that…” Sukuna mumbles. “Better. Don’t leave me.”

“I already did,” you want to say, but… you can’t.

The smell of his cologne and shampoo, alcohol and tobacco, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body… it all forms a dangerous, deceptive picture of “like before.” You close your eyes, bright spots blooming behind your eyelids. Sukuna starts babbling, mumbling incoherently into you, pressed against you, his hips against yours, clinging to you from every side as he rubs his head against your chest.

“…those dumb bitches keep crawling all over me… like flies… sick of it… told them to fuck off… I have…” he suddenly goes quiet. His fingers spasm around the fabric of your shirt at your waist, under your ribs, tugging. “But you’re not here. I called, but you… phone… won’t pick up. You changed your number, yeah? And your phone password…”

He shifts again, restless.

“Why’d you leave? I… I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have sex with anyone after you. I swear. I need… only you, baby…”

You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling. His words, those drunk, broken confessions… Sukuna doesn’t understand the point. To him, “didn’t do anything” means he didn’t flirt, didn’t kiss, didn’t sleep with anyone else. But his indifference, his disregard for your feelings, his blindness, don’t count to him. That’s not “something.” That just doesn’t exist in his world.

“You didn’t look. You didn’t see me,” you sound exhausted.

Sukuna lifts his head slightly, looking up at you. His eyes seem wide now with confusion. Reflections shimmer in them. And you.

“I saw you. You’re the prettiest… the prettiest. Everyone knows…”

It’s not it. Not even close. But in his drunk, sincere admiration, there’s a drop of the warmth you always starved for.

“Just sleep.”

“Why did you leave me, baby?” he asks vulnerably, tearing you apart.

You don’t answer. You just keep stroking his back slowly, over the familiar tattoos, feeling the tension under your fingers gradually start to melt away.

His breathing deepens, evens out. Your eyelids grow heavy. You bury your fingers into his peach hair, and tears gather in your eyes. You stare into the dark, feeling his body slowly go slack as he drifts into sleep.

Sukuna is here. Drunk, lost, not remembering, not accepting that you broke up. He’s sleeping on top of you and for some reason, you can’t push him off. Not now. Not when he’s… like this. Drunk, needy like you used to be, clinging to you like you’re something he still, in his drunken head, thinks belongs to him.

You close your eyes and realize your insomnia is finally starting to fade…

Part 2: here

Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!) English is not my first language, so yes, my writing might not be perfect :( This is my first JJK work here, so please....

[lobelliah]

Forever & Ever

Disclaimer

I know there's a group of LADS fans that don't like MC being the bad guy but she is in this story. Sorry but she has to be. She's an asshole, Sylus is an asshole, you're an asshole. That is the intended theme for this story. Don't like don't read, and definitely don't hate!

Trigger / Content Warnings

Murder

Gun violence

Infidelity / cheating

Emotional abuse

Psychological abuse

Manipulation

Graphic descriptions of death (non-gory but explicit)

Haunting / supernatural horror

Nightmares / dream horror

Pregnancy themes

Threats toward children

Generational trauma

Parental abandonment

Adoption-related trauma

Grief

Intense emotional distress

No redemption / no happy ending

This story is based on this post/art. All of the credits are in the photo.

Word Count: 8,419

💮Masterlist💮

You loved him with everything you had. Sylus was your world. Your marriage, a sanctuary you had built with your own hands, brick by precious brick.

You remembers the way he pulled you close in the morning, still half-asleep, murmuring your name like a prayer. The way his fingers would trace patterns on your skin in the dark, writing promises only you two could read. Every shared meal, every whispered secret, every time he chose you—it all felt like proof that you'd found your forever.

You were his wife. His partner. His chosen one.

You wore his ring like a queen wore her crown. You wore his love like a knight wore her armor. He never gave you a reason to feel unloved or unwanted.

But then she arrived. And you watched your world end in slow motion.

The way his eyes changed when he looked at her, that spark you thought belonged only to you, now burning for someone else. The distance grew between the two of you, and you stood on the side reaching, begging, trying everything to pull him back. You made his favorite meals. You wore the clothes he loved. You laughed at his jokes, touched his arm, reminded him of your vows.

But it didn't matter. He was already gone, wasn't he? Already choosing her.

You watched him slip away day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. He let your heart slip through his fingers, while he held hers. You were still wearing his ring when he stopped wearing his. Still calling yourself his wife when he'd already made her his future.

The guns came without warning. Luke and Kieran held two barrels pointed two loaded pistols towards you. Cold metal, colder eyes. They followed his orders and unloaded their weapons, the bullets tore through you. Through flesh, through bone, through the heart that had loved him so completely

Sylus, your husband. Sylus, the love of your life. He'd ordered your death like you were nothing. Like your years together meant nothing. The pain was excruciating, but worse was watching him walk away with MC. His hand on her back, protective, tender, the way he used to touch you as your blood pooled beneath you and your vision blurred.

He didn't look back. Not once. You died alone on the ground, discarded, while they disappeared into their new life together. They drove off to live your happily ever after as you were buried in an unmarked grave.

But death wasn't the end. It was a beginning.

You rose from your tattered corpse, no longer bound by flesh. Every drop of love you had poured into him crystallized into something bitter, colder, deadlier.

You would have your revenge.

The world felt bitter, darker, colder, infinite. You could feel the threads connecting you to them, pulsing with possibility.

They thought walking away meant freedom? They thought your death meant peace? MC thought she could just spread her legs for another woman's husband and get away with it? Sylus thought he could lie and break your heart, mind, and soul without consequences?

How beautifully, tragically naive.

They wanted their happily ever after?

You would give them something far more memorable.

Even long after they themselves were dead and buried, they will always wonder…

"Was it really worth it?"

You found them at dawn.

In your bedroom. In your bed. The sheets you'd picked out, the mattress that still held the shape of your body, the room where he'd whispered promises into your hair on countless mornings. Now it reeked of her—her perfume, her sweat, the cloying sweetness of their satisfaction.

They were still tangled together, her head resting on his chest where yours used to lay, his arm draped possessively across her waist. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, the same absent-minded gesture he'd done to you. The morning light caught on his face, softening it, making him look peaceful and content.

Happy. You made him happy. But she made him happier.

Something inside you twisted violently.

They celebrated their love the same night they had you murdered!

The rage hit you like a roaring tsunami. But with the rage came a sense of awareness. The world around you differently now. You didn't just see it, but you could sense it. The door. The walls. The very air itself felt tangible and responsive, like it was waiting for you to reach out grab it.

You raised your hand. It looked translucent in the dim light. But when you focused, when you poured all that fury into your hand, it became solid. Real!

You had to test it. You slammed it against the bedroom door.

BANG!

The sound was a thunderclap that shattered the morning stillness. The door shuddered in its frame, rattling on its hinges. The impact reverberated through your spectral form. you could feel it, the shock of solid wood against your fist, the satisfaction of making the physical world acknowledge your existence after you were forcefully departed from it.

Sylus jolted upright like, his hand raised ready to use his evol. Every muscle in his body went taut as predatory instincts snapping into place. MC gasped, clutching the sheet to her bare chest, her eyes wide and wild as they fixed on the door.

"What the hell!?" Sylus's voice was rough with sleep and adrenaline.

They stared at the door. Waiting and listening for the noise to happen again. You held perfectly still, drinking in their fear like it was fine wine.

No footsteps in the hallway. No voices. No creaking floorboards or rattling windows. Just that single, sound still echoing in their ears and in their bones.

"Did you hear that?" MC whispered, her voice trembling. Her fingers dug into his arm.

"I heard it." Sylus was already moving, throwing off the sheets, not bothering to put on any underwear. His expression was hard and calculating as he scanned the room. Looking for threats. For intruders. For something that made sense. He wouldn't find it.

He crossed to the door with predatory caution before he yanked the it open. The hallway stretched empty before him. Completely silent and undisturbed. Morning light filtered through the windows at the far end, painting everything in soft, innocent haze.

But the air was wrong. Like the atmosphere before a storm. He stepped into the hallway, his eyes sweeping left, then right. Nothing. No one.

You stood right beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his pupils dilated as he searched for an enemy that wasn't there. He felt you. He didn't know it yet, but some primal part of him recognized the wrongness, the presence of something that shouldn't exist.

"Sylus?" MC called from the bed, her voice small and frightened.

"It's nothing," he said, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. The first crack in his armor.

You smiled, tasting their confusion, their fear, like honey on your tongue. The rage inside you purred with satisfaction. This power, this ability to reach across the veil and make them feel you. It was intoxicating.

You need more.

By midday, Sylus was gone.

A business meeting and security checks. Something about ensuring the perimeter was secure after the "incident." You'd watched him leave, watched him kiss MC at the door like a devoted lover, promising to return soon.

And now she was all alone.

MC moved through your kitchen with familiarity, like she'd done this a thousand times before. Because she undoubtedly has. She'd been here while you were still alive, cooking in your kitchen, using your things, playing house with your husband while you were out. The thought made your rage spike hot and vicious.

She'd pulled her hair into a messy bun, wearing one of Sylus's shirts like it was hers. The sleeves rolled up as she chopped vegetables on your cutting board with your knife. She was humming something soft and tuneless, completely at ease.

She'd convinced herself things were fine. The morning's disturbance was nothing.

She reached for the cabinet above the stove, where she had reorganized the spices from the far superior system you had in place, and pulled out paprika.

The rage built inside of you again. You focused until you could feel the kitchen around you, every surface, every object, all of it waiting for your touch. You stepped closer to her, wanting her feel you somehow.

MC paused, the knife hovering over the cutting board. She glanced toward the closed window, put down the knife and checked the thermostat. The AC was off and the rooms overall temperature dropped. She shrugged her shoulders and continued her cutting.

You focused again, using everything bit of energy you had on the cabinet beside her head.

BANG!

The cabinet door slammed open so hard it cracked against the adjacent wall. The sound was deafening in the quiet kitchen.

MC screamed. The knife clattered to the floor as she stumbled backward, her hip slamming into the counter. Her eyes were huge, fixed on the cabinet that now hung open, swaying slightly on its hinges.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked. "Sylus?"

Silence.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

You watched her chest heave with panicked breaths, watched her eyes dart around the kitchen, searching for something, anything that made sense. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the counter, trying to steady herself.

"It's just—it's just old hinges," she whispered to herself, but her voice shook. "Just—just the house settling. It's fine. It's—"

You moved closer, letting the temperature drop further. Her breath misted in the air.

"It's fine," she repeated, but she was backing toward the door now, her movements jerky and frightened. "It's fine, it's fine, it's—"

She ran.

You stayed in the kitchen, surrounded by the scattered vegetables and the abandoned lunch, and smiled.

The fear was so much sweeter when they were alone.

MC didn’t come back into the kitchen.

She hovered in the doorway for a long moment, keys in hand, still pale, still shaken, before deciding she couldn’t stand to be alone in the house any longer. Takeout was easier than cooking anyway. Leaving was easier than sitting with the feeling that something was wrong and being unable to know why.

The door closed behind MC, leaving you alone.

Sylus came home an hour later.

He stepped through the door without hesitation, keys jingling softly as he set them in the dish by the entryway. In one hand, he carried a briefcase. In the other, a tall, curved vase filled with freshly cut red roses.

The scent followed him like a sickly sweet perfume as he placed it in the middle of the counter. Turning it slightly so the light can hit the petals just right. MC would spot them immediately when she came back.

When he was satisfied, he pulled out his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice dropping into that soft, intimate tone he saved for her. “I just got back. Yeah, I got you something to help you feel better, you'll love it.”

You didn’t need to focus so hard this time. What you are and what you can do felt so natural at this point even though you were killed yesterday. You were fully embracing what you had become and how you felt. That acceptance, made you stronger than you've ever been.

You looked at the flowers. Simple red roses in full bloom, deep crimson, the petals lush and dewy. The basic uninspiring kind MC like. You ground your teeth remembering the bouquets Sylus got you. They were all different. A beautiful carefully crafted piece of botanical art that showed the unrelenting love Sylus had for you. It was a floral symphony of romance that you loved and appreciated every time.

These roses were a downgrade. You're doing Sylus a favor at this point.

Sylus calmly walked to the fridge, his phone tucked between his shoulder and cheek, using his now free hands to grab a glass of water for himself. But before his fingers could make contact with the fridge, the vase quickly glided across the smooth marble, tipping over the edge with no chance of saving it.

The crash was violent, the glass exploded across the tile floor, shards skittering in all directions as water spilled outward in a sudden flood. The roses petals tearing loose and scattering among the wreckage.

Sylus stood motionless, arm still extended, staring down at the destruction. The phone remained clutched in his hand, her voice faint and tiny as MC called his name again and again, asking if he was all right, asking what had happened. He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the island, on the exact spot where the vase had stood moments before. Completely sturdy, leveled, and safe.

This had not been an accident. It was impossible.

The house felt completely different now. His pulse quickened, the uneasiness crawling up his spine. He told himself there had to be an explanation—water on the counter, a tremor, something, anything! But none of it was there. He remembered setting the vase down. Remembered making sure it was stable. Remembered thinking how it looked right there.

You were close enough to him now to feel the heat of his body, close enough to sense the growing break in his composure. So close he could see his own breath despite the warm temperature in the house.

Eventually, he would clean the mess. He would sweep up the glass, throw away the ruined flowers, order another bouquet and tell himself it meant nothing. Even if he couldn't bring himself to mean it. Something fundamental had shifted. The house no longer felt like his domain like it always had. The space no longer felt empty.

He was not alone.

The next four days that followed the vase incident were tense. Sylus and MC went through those days in a routine haze. Wake up, go to work, come home, go to bed.

Sylus ordered another bouquet by nightfall. He placed the new flowers in a heavier vase, tucked into the corner of the kitchen, as if reducing the exposure would prevent another act of supernatural sabotage. MC noticed his mood shift, of course. She watched him watch the house. His eyes lingering longer on shadowed corners, his movements a lot more careful, checking locks and thermostats with subtle paranoia. But she said nothing. They were both too proud, too rational, too eager to believe in safe explanations.

You watched them still. Being able to latch onto one of them no matter where they went.  The life and times of Sylus were nothing new to you. You knew everything about him. But you discovered so much more about MC.

Within those four days you saw the dedicated colonel, the flamboyant artist, the caring doctor, and the attentive co-worker.

All unbelievably handsome, talented, rich, and loyal. The way they looked at MC was the way Sylus looked at you. They knew that MC was taken, but not by who, and it was obvious that if given the chance they would take it. They would sweep her off her feet and never let her go again.

MC had choices. Yet she still chose wrong!

But the four full days passed without incident. You didn’t rattle a single cupboard or drop the temperature once. You gave them peace. You gave them space. You let them believe, if only for a moment, that maybe it was over. That the worst had passed.

It made what came next all the more exquisite.

MC wore black satin and red lipstick. Sylus, the dark shirt you bought for his birthday, the one he always claimed brought him luck. You watched them leave together, laughing, fingers laced, tension slipping from their shoulders as they went to have their romantic evening.

They went to a restaurant with candles on the tables and wine in their glasses, a place where everyone knew your name, but couldn't say anything now. They returned late, tipsy and giddy, lips already smeared with lipstick, eyes heavy with desire and drink. They touched each other without shame as they slipped through the front door, their laughter bouncing off the walls like they owned the night.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Instead, they left a trail of clothing from the hallway to the bathroom, giggling and clumsy and unbearably content. You heard the shower start and their voices echo through the fogged glass. The bathroom light flowed through the open door casting soft shadows into the hallway. They were in there together, tangled in steam, their bodies close, their breath rising like incense into the air you’d once called your own.

That was when you moved.

One moment, the bathroom door stood wide open; the next, it slammed shut with a force that shook the hinges.

Inside, the water kept running but their moans stopped instantly.

Then the lights went out dipping the room in total darkness.

They fumbled in the dark. Their bodies awkward and dripping, the earlier ease gone, the intimacy evaporated, replaced by slow but panicked movements and shallow breaths. Sylus found the wall at last and navigated to the light switch. When Sylus managed to restore the lights, the bathroom felt stripped of warmth and intimacy.

They moved out of the around in silence after that, grabbing towels, avoiding each other’s eyes. Moving quickly like strangers who were caught being somewhere forbidden.

MC turned toward the mirror, towel wrapped tight around her chest. Her skin still glistened with water, the droplets sliding down her neck and collarbone, but her hands moved on auto pilot. She reached for the hand towel by the sink and wiped a broad stroke across the glass so she can see herself.

The steam parted and revealed a reflection that did not belong to her. You stared through the mirror as though it were nothing more than a window, your expression completely unreadable. Your eyes were fixed directly on hers, like a statue fixed in place.

“Oh my god!” MC recoiled as if something struck her.

Sylus spun toward her instantly, his towel slung low on his hips. “What? What happened?”

She couldn't answer. Her gaze still locked on the mirror, eyes wide and fixed in place. You never broke your eye contact. You didn't even blink, scared of missing a single second of this moment. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Only a shuddering breath as she struggled to even breath properly. MC then her hand lifted to point at you.

Sylus followed her finger just in time to see you calmly walk out of frame.

Not a mirage, or a hallucination, or a vague shadow. The last time he had seen you alive, you were crumpling beneath gunfire. Now, you were walking away from him like nothing was wrong.

“She was there,” her voice small, wrecked with fear. “You saw her. Tell me you saw her!”

A long pause stretched between them.

Then Sylus nodded, just once. "Yes…I saw her."

MC exhaled shakily, stepping back from the sink with uncertain footing, one hand reaching blindly for Sylus as though the contact alone could keep her from collapsing. She gripped his forearm, fingers digging into damp skin, using him like a crutch for reality. He didn’t move. He stood there, his body rigid and cold as marble.

The damage had been done.

You had touched things. Moved things. Appeared in front of them.

Sylus's mind was churning through a thousand calculations, none of them adding up to anything useful. This wasn’t a threat he could neutralize. This wasn’t a security breach or a mistake to be covered up. This wasn’t a woman he could have killed and forgotten.

You had been buried, yes.

But he had buried a body, not the part that mattered.

They were foolish enough to think the house was the problem. That you were bound to the place you once called home.

The decision for them leave the place they tried to erase you from was quick and frantic.

“I’m not staying another second,” MC kept repeating, her fingers slipping as she pulled on pants still damp from the shower. “I don’t care where we go, I just need to get out of here!”

“I know.” His voice was tight. He barely looked at her as he yanked open drawers, pulling out his phone and wallet with shaking hands. “Grab your things. Just the essentials.”

She did. No luggage, no toiletries, just the what they thought mattered: phones, car keys, wallets. It was a full on escape. One that you knew was a pointless endeavor.

The hotel they found was sterile and over-lit, the kind of luxury that tried too hard to mimic warmth. The concierge gave her best customer service smile and a swipe of the credit card machine, saying nothing about the disheveled pair with wet hair and wild eyes. The elevator ride was silent. In the suite, MC finally exhaled in one long breath before collapsing onto the bed.

“We should be safe here,” she said quietly, almost trying to convince herself. “It’s new. It’s clean. She can’t be everywhere.”

Sylus sat on the edge of the couch and stared at the floor for a long time. "We'll find a new home. A completely new life and a fresh start."

After hours of reassuring words and comforting kisses, MC finally calmed down enough to fall asleep soon after.

But Sylus couldn't. He lay beside her for over an hour, eyes wide open. When her soft breathing evened out and the tension in her limbs dissolved, he carefully pulled the sheet away and stood. He didn’t bother trying to look presentable. Just his jacket, his keys, his phone. He scribbled a quick note and left it on the nightstand: Going for a drive. Couldn’t sleep.

The road was mostly empty, long stretches of asphalt with only the company of streetlights. Sylus kept both hands on the wheel, his shoulders as his eyes fixed straight ahead. The talk radio was low enough that he couldn’t make out the words, only the sound of the voice filling the silence. He hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping the steering wheel until his fingers began to ache.

He spoke without thinking, the words slipping out as if saying them out loud might make them true. “It’s not her,” he said quietly. “It’s stress. A little guilt. Just stress. A lot of stress. Nothing else.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “She’s gone. She’s gone. I made sure—”

"SYLUS!"

You voice sounded like a bomb detonating beside his ear. It was right there, it was loud and furious and undeniably close.

“FUCK!”

His hands jerked on the wheel. The car swerved hard, crossing the lane before he could correct it. His foot slammed down, missing the brake, and the tires screamed as the headlights veered off the road. The car hit the telephone pole head-on. The impact jerked his body forward, then back. The seatbelt biting into his chest and shoulder as the airbags deployed and knocked the air out of his lungs. Metal crumpled. Glass shattered. Then the car stopped completely.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the ticking of the engine.

Sylus sagged against the steering wheel his chest burning as he struggled to draw in air that wouldn’t come fast enough. His hands trembled uncontrollably. Something warm ran from his nose, dripping onto his shirt. He blinked hard, trying to focus, the edges of his vision swimming.

The hazard lights clicked on automatically, their steady blinking reflected against the dark road ahead, casting red light across the interior of the car in slow and rhythmic pulses.

He didn’t move. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. You were seated directly behind him. He locked eyes with you through the rearview mirror.

Your body wasn't a ghostly apparition. It was solid and bloody, looking the way you did that night after you were brutally gunned down, lit intermittently by the flashing of the hazard lights. You were not slumped or disorientating from the crash. You were not weak or fighting for your life from your bullet wounds. You sat upright and composed, your face calm and your eyes fixed on him.

Sylus’s hands slipped from the steering wheel as his body recoiled, and he twisted in his seat just enough to confirm what he was seeing. You didn't vanish. You didn't shift or blur or fade. You remained exactly where you were, occupying the back seat as naturally as you once had on long drives together.

A painful sound slipped through his lips as he shoved the door open and stumbled out onto the road. His legs nearly gave out beneath him, forcing him to brace himself against the broken frame of the car as the cold night air hit his hot and sweaty skin. He turned back slowly, dread pooling heavy in his gut.

You were still there, your gaze never leaving him. You didn't try to move, you just simply watched as he staggered away from the car, every step uneven, his shoulders hunched as if making himself smaller to escape your stare.

He didn’t look back again after that. He walked along the edge of the road before managing to teleport away towards the hotel, far from the life he had tried to escape into. While you remained seated in the back of the wrecked car, watching him leave you behind again.

MC slept deeply in the hotel bed, a soft smile on her face as she dreamt.

In the dream, the world was brighter, softer, and warmer. Her home filled with love and comfort instead of dread. She was curled against Sylus on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders as the television played in the background. The light in the room was low and golden, the kind that belonged only to a dream like this. His presence felt grounding and reassuring, his thumb absentmindedly brushing along her arm as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

For a while, she simply rested there, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing, letting herself become at the ease of it.

Then the baby cried.

MC stiffened, lifting her head from Sylus’s chest. He didn’t move. Didn’t react at all. The crying came again, a lot more urgent that made her chest tighten from her motherly instincts.

The hallway stretched longer than it should have as she walked toward the nursery, the walls dim and quiet, the television noise fading behind her. The crying continued, guiding her forward step by step, her pace quickening as worry settled in her gut. Halfway down the hall though, the sound faltered. By the time she reached the nursery door, it had stopped entirely.

She hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

The nursery curtains were drawn shut, but was lit by a single lamp. Everything was exactly as it should have been, but something was very, very wrong. The rocking chair sitting in the corner, moving slowly back and forth.

You were sitting in it, holding MC's baby securely in your arms, cradling her tiny body against your chest as though you had done it a thousand times before. Your movements were slow and calm, the rocking gentle and steady. The baby was quiet now, her face relaxed, her tiny hand curled into the fabric of your shirt as she slept.

MC couldn’t breathe.

You lifted your gaze and looked at her tenderly, your eyes lowered briefly to the child in your arms before returning to MC’s face. There was no hostility in your posture, no aggression in the way you held the baby, no rage radiating off of you in subtle ways.

“She's cute,” you whispered. "My baby would have looked cuter though."

MC’s breath hitched. She stood frozen in the doorway, every instinct screaming at her to move, to do something, but her body refused to obey. “Put her down,” she said, the words barely holding together. “Now. Please.”

You smiled, but it was anything kind. “Don’t make that face, MC,” you murmured. “She’s fine.”

The baby vanished in a puff of gray smoke that dissipated almost as instantly as it appeared, leaving your arms empty as if they had never held anything at all. The rocking chair continued to move for a moment longer before slowing to a stop.

“Because she isn’t real,” you said calmly. You leaned back slightly in the chair, eyes never leaving her face. “This is a dream. Your dream of a life that you truly don't deserve. My husband and a baby together? Give me a fucking break. Slimy little homewrecker…"

You rose from the rocking chair slowly, the wood giving a soft creak beneath your weight. The door slamming shut behind her as you stood.

MC reacted on fear and instinct. Spinning on her heel, she lunged for the doorway, fingers closing around the handle as she yanked hard, openly panicking. The door didn’t budge. She tried again, putting her weight into it this time, her shoulder slamming against the wood as she struggled to pull it, push it open. But it wasn't budging.

Behind her, your footsteps were unhurried. There was no rush in you, no need to close the distance quickly. You knew she had nowhere to go. The door remained firmly shut, the walls unmoving, the nursery sealed as though it had always been meant to hold only the two of you.

“No. No, no,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she fumbled with the handle again. “Please open—”

MC turned slowly, her back pressed to the door, chest rising and falling too fast as she watched you approach. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for escape, for an interruption, for anything that might wake her from the dream she now understood she couldn’t control.

You stopped a few steps away from her, close enough now that she could see every detail of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, MC?” you asked quietly.

MC swallowed hard, her back pressed flat against the door, nowhere left to retreat.

“Living my life,” you said. “Wearing my things. Sleeping beside my husband in my bed. Playing house with the future I was supposed to have.” Your eyes never leaving her face, committing every ounce of her fear into your memory. “The life of a good and honest woman you were more than happy to have erased.”

MC stuttered. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” you interrupted, your voice calm but unyielding. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” You took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to keep you in view. “Don’t insult me by pretending you felt remorse when you were scratching your nails down my husband's back, the same night my body was being buried in an unmarked grave in the middle of a dead field.”

Her composure shattered. “Please,” she sobbed, words tumbling over each other. “Please I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I know that now. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” you said simply. “You shouldn’t have. You could've had anyone you wanted. You’re beautiful. Intelligent. Successful. People trust you without even realizing why.”

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at her. “I trusted you. I let myself believe you weren’t a threat. That we could have been friends.”

MC slid down the door until her knees nearly gave out entirely, tears streaking her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re only sorry because I’m here,” you said. “Because I can follow you anywhere and you can’t escape. You’re sorry because I’m forcing you to face the consequences of your deplorable actions.”

“I’ll leave him,” she said desperately. “I’ll move away! Back to Linkon, anywhere! I won’t see Sylus again! I swear!”

“And will that magically bring me back to life?”

MC said nothing. She couldn’t. The answer was already there.

“Exactly,” you said.

You squatted down to her level, slowly bringing your hands up and cradling her face in your hands. MC shrank back instinctively, her back and shoulders digging into the door, unable to catch her breath as you touched her. Her eyes flicked wildly across your face, searching for mercy or any kind of emotion she could recognize and reason with. She found none of it.

“You don’t get a clean ending,” you continued. “You don’t get absolution. You don’t get to run somewhere far away and pretend I just some crazy chapter of your life.” Your gaze hardened, in a way that made her stomach drop. “I’m going to live with you and that parasite growing in your belly."

She didn’t react right away, as if she’d misheard. “What?”

"Yeah, your pregnant. A few weeks along, but it's there."

MC shook her head in denial, weak and desperate. “No…no, that’s not—please—”

“You’ll feel it soon,” you went on, as if explaining something mundane. “And every time you look at that child, you'll think about how your selfishness ruined it's life before it even began.”

Her breath hitched, panic finally cresting into something close to hysteria. “Please,” she whispered. “Please—”

“I’ll be there in your dreams and when you wake up,” you said. “In the quiet moments, when you think you’re safe. In mirrors, when you’re not expecting it. In the corner of your eye, when your guard is down. Every time you start to believe you’ve moved on, I’ll remind you of who you stepped over to get here.”

Tears streamed down her face unchecked now. Her body trembled, exhausted, defeated. “I can’t live like that,” she whispered.

You frowned, repulsed by her words. “I didn’t get to live at all.”

You straightened slowly, taking a single step back, already fading away.

“One day,” you said softly, “you’ll stop asking for forgiveness and start begging for silence and peace.

You met her eyes one last time.

“And I won’t give you either.”

You reached for the switch of the lamp and turned it off, ending the dream in darkness.

MC woke with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright in the hotel bed, heart pounding hard enough to make her chest ache. The sheets were twisted around her legs, damp with sweat, her hair stuck to the back of her neck. For a moment, she lay there disoriented, breath uneven, the room unfamiliar in the dark. She could still feel you there, touching her, breathing the same air as her.

She pressed her palm against her stomach. There was nothing to feel, nothing to confirm what she’d heard, but she felt nauseous anyway. Tears came down like rain during a storm. She tried to keep it silent at first, but she couldn't hold back anymore, her shoulders curling inward as she folded over herself. Bringing her knees to her chest and holding them close.

Thirteen years later, MC’s life had settled into something that passed for peace.

Her marriage with Caleb was full of joy and love that she didn’t think she could feel again. The house she shared with him sat on a calm street lined with trees that bloomed every spring without fail. Where the neighbors knew each other and helped each other.

Afternoon light spilled across the living room floor as their baby boy wobbled between them, his small arms outstretched, determination etched into his tiny face. MC hovered close behind him, ready to catch him, while Caleb crouched a few steps away, hands open and ready to embrace him.  Their six year old daughter concentrated on her coloring book nearby, looking up every now and then to encourage her brother.

“That’s it,” Caleb encouraged, smiling. “You’re doing great. Come on.”

The boy took two more steps before collapsing into MC’s arms, squealing with delight. She lifted him, pressing her face into his hair, breathing him in.

For moments like this, the past stayed quiet. For moments like this, she almost believed she had outrun it. Outrun you.

You still appeared sometimes.

In reflections in the mirror and windows. In dreams that left MC waking with her mind and body numb. The sudden drops in temperature or the unmistakable sense of being watched when she was alone. When certain things moved on their own with no one near them. But never long enough to destroy what she’d built. Never enough to keep her from moving forward.

Caleb knew nothing about Sylus. Nothing about the twins MC gave birth to and put up for adoption moments after they were born. Nothing about the woman who had promised never to leave. MC had learned that survival sometimes depended on silence. If she wanted to live her life with Caleb and their kids, she needed to swallow her past and keep it down.

It was mid-afternoon when the doorbell rang.

MC answered it with her son balanced on her hip, expecting a neighbor or a delivery. Instead, she found herself staring at a girl  who looked no older than thirteen, standing rigid on the porch, thin and pale, white hair pulled back too tightly in a ponytail, red eyes filled with something volatile and barely contained.

“Are you MC?” the girl asked with no hesitation or uncertainty.

“Yes,” MC said slowly. “Can I help you?”

The girl’s expression changed instantly right before she lunged. The girls hands grabbing at MC’s hair right at the root, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood as she tried to pull her forward to the ground. MC cried out in pain, twisting away and shielding her son instinctively as Caleb rushed forward, pulling the girl off her.

“Hey!”

Caleb used his evol to create some distance between MC and the girl. The girl fought against the gravity holding her back her face twisted with unfiltered rage.

“Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go! She has to pay for what she did! This is your fault! You ruined everything!”

MC retreated several steps, heart racing, her son pressed tightly to her chest as he cried from the sudden violent altercation, as her daughter ran to her room. MC murmured to him softly, though her body was shaking. Caleb didn’t look back. His entire focus was on the girl thrashing against his evol.

“Explain yourself.” Caleb demanded.

The fight drained out of the girl all at once. Her shoulders sagged, she fought to even out her breath. “My name is Rin,” she said hoarsely. “I’m thirteen. And she ruined my life. Because of her I've been haunted my entire life!”

"I don't know you," MC insisted.

Rin let out a humorous laugh. “You don’t remember me because you didn’t keep me.”

Caleb stiffened. “What does that mean?”

Rin's gaze didn't leave MC. “She comes to me at night, in my dreams, ever since I was five. The Bride in Red. That’s what I named her when I was little. I didn’t know who she was then. Just that she was always crying, always angry, her white wedding dress covered in blood. Always out to get me!”

MC couldn’t breathe.

“I only found out recently,” Rin continued, her voice trembling now. “She showed me. The night she died. The warehouse. The guns. You and my dad walking away.” Her eyes burned into MC’s. “She made me relive it. Over and over and over again!”

Caleb’s looked at MC in shock. “MC,” he said quietly, “what is she talking about?”

“That’s not possible,” MC whispered, though even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

“Your perfect little wife gave birth to twin girls,” she said angrily. “She didn’t even bother giving us names, she just gave us away like we didn’t matter. We were adopted by different families. I didn’t even know I had a sister until last year when I went looking for MC.”

MC couldn’t speak. She gripped her son hard enough to try and use his presence to calm herself down without hurting him. Her mouth opened, then closed again, her past had found her and was pressing against her from all sides.

“She told me everything,” Rin said. “The Bride in Red told me who you were. Who my birth father is. Who she was. And why she’ll never stop.”

MC’s knees buckled from underneath her. Caleb rushed to catch her and hold her steady, letting Rin hit the ground as his evol released her.

“She isn’t just haunting you and Sylus,” Rin's furious gaze held strong as tears of frustration ran down her face. “She’s tied to your bloodline. To anyone who is born into this family because of what you did.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She told me she doesn't care. That she'll haunt our bloodline until the end of time! That her mission ends when our bloodline does.”

Caleb's body went rigid. His eyes drifted toward the hallway towards his daughter's bedroom. Last night came back to him in vivid detail, their daughter waking up crying, clinging to him, whispering about a woman standing in her room.

“She was wearing a red and white dress,” she’d said. "She didn't have a face daddy! She was really scary!"

At the time, he’d told himself it was just a nightmare.

Now, he looked back at Rin. “My daughter’s five,” he said quietly. “She had her first nightmare last night. About a woman in a red and white dress with no face”

Rin’s breath caught. “That’s how it starts. And it wasn't a nightmare. She was there. In the room. The longer she's around the more her face appears. Your son will have the same experience when he's older."

Caleb’s teeth clenched. “Then this isn’t just about the past,” he said. “It’s about our children.”

He turned to MC. “You need to tell me everything. Now.”

MC could only cry as her world fell apart again. Caleb's look of shock and betrayal. Her daughter hiding in fear. Her son whimpering against her chest. And her first daughter Rin, a young girl haunted by MC's past mistakes, knowing she will not be the only one.

You had kept your promise.

Not to forgive, or forget, but to endure.

Twenty-five years passed, and Sylus never became whole again.

Time moved forward around him the way it did for everyone else, indifferent and relentless, but something in him remained fixed in the moment everything was lost. He aged. His hair thinned, aging lines carved themselves into his face, not from laughter but from the constant, unrelieved weight of remembering. People who met him later in life described him as distant, irritable, hollow in a way.

MC had left long ago. He came back to the hotel that night after his car accident and found her gone. She didn't even come back to their home to get her items, she just left and never came back. That loss had been bad at first, but it wasn’t what broke him. It was what followed.

You still never left.

He missed MC. But he missed you so much more.

He missed the woman who had loved him without any terms and conditions. The wife who had believed in him and supported him. The wife who built a future filled with life and love. The future he had taken and crushed so thoroughly that even death hadn’t been enough to erase it. Regret settled into him so deeply it became part of his DNA. He apologized aloud sometimes with tears in the eyes and his voice rough, knowing there was no one to hear him but you.

“I know,” he would whisper. “I know I ruined it. I ruined everything."

He tried everything people suggested. Therapy. Religion. Acts of charity meant to balance invisible scales. He dug you from your unmarked grave and built you a beautiful mausoleum, always keeping it clean and stocked with your favorite flowers. Kneeling at your casket begging for your mercy and forgiveness.

He spoke your name like a confession, like a plea, like a prayer. He meant every apology. Every ounce of remorse was real.

He knew you watched him. He could feel your gaze when his back was turned. He would feel your cold spots and lingered there in your presence, then feel it get warm as you drifted away. Sometimes he would hear your footsteps, or see you move something in the house.

But it was his dreams that you really dominated.

When you appeared, it was not as you were when you died, but as you had been before everything soured. You sat beside him on the couch, fingers laced through his hair. The teasing touches when you passed by him and giggling when he tried to return the favor. The excited look on your face when you cooked something new for him. You laughed in those dreams. You smiled in those dreams. You kissed him in those dreams. Sometimes you spoke his name the way you used to, with pure adoration.

And every time, without fail, he woke up without you. Staring at the ceiling as he had to once again face reality.

There would be no forgiveness. No release. No moment where the weight lifted and the past softened.

When the knock on his door came, he assumed it was a mistake. No one ever came to him. Luke and Kieran only came when called.

He opened the door to find a woman standing on the threshold, eerily calm and visibly tired in a way that immediately unsettled him. She was young, mid-twenties at most, short white haired with vibrant red eyes.

“Are you Sylus? And did you have an intimate relationship with a woman named MC” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, and yes.”

“My name is Mara,” she said. “You’re my father.”

The words struck him all at once, but he didn't react right away.

MC had never returned. She had changed all of her contact info and left Linkon. He had been left with absence and guilt, nothing more. He stepped aside, letting Mara into the house, and they sat across from one another at the small kitchen table.

"MC didn't tell me she was pregnant," Sylus said.

"She had twins," Mara elaborated. "Her name is Rin, we were adopted by different families as babies. I know where she is, I just haven't spoken to her yet."

"Did you ever find MC?"

"Yes. Though when I tried to speak to her she turned me away. Apparently Rin found her when she was only thirteen. MC and her new husband's marriage was never the same after that. Caleb, her husband, said it was a 'stay together for the kids' arrangement…Did you want her contact information?"

"No," Sylus said immediately. "It's best if she stays away from me."

Mara spoke after a moment of awkward silence. “I didn’t come for reconciliation, or money, or explanations about your life. I came because of her.”

Sylus looked at her. "About MC?"

“No,” Mara corrected. “The Bride in Red. That’s what I called her when I was a child. She first appeared when I was five. A woman with a featureless face, wearing a wedding dress covered in blood. Standing in my doorway, or sitting at the end of my bed. Watching me.” Her voice remained steady, but there was a slight strain in it now. “She never hurt me. She just stayed. And when I got older, I saw her face, and she showed me things. A warehouse. Guns. A woman bleeding on the floor. You walking away, with my mom, the other woman.”

Sylus closed his eyes, the familiar ache in his heart blooming into something ugly.

“I know who she is now,” Mara said quietly. “I know who you are, and what you and my mother did to her.” She met his gaze again, unwavering. “I’m not here to punish you. She’s already done that.”

Sylus swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He stared at her for a long moment before speaking, his voice rough and stripped of pretense. “So why are you here?”

“I have a son. My husband and I adopted him when he was two.” Mara went on. “He’s five years old now. Last month, he told me there was a woman in his room. The Bride in Red.”

Sylus’s hands began to shake uncontrollably.

“And I’m pregnant now,” Mara said. “Another boy she will undoubtably haunt as well.” She rested a hand over her stomach, protective and afraid. “I need to know how to make her stop. I need to know how to keep my children safe.”

Sylus stared down at the table, at the grain of the wood, at anything but her face. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than breath.

“There isn’t a way.”

Mara went still. "What?"

“I’ve spent twenty-five years trying,” he said, the words breaking free at last. “Apologies. Confessions. Regret. I begged and cried and pleaded. I built her a mausoleum and see here every morning at sunrise. I punished myself in every way I knew how. None of it mattered.” He looked up at his daughter, at the life he had never known and the future already tainted by his choices.

“I killed her,” Sylus said, the truth as devastating as it had ever been. “I didn't leave and give her a chance to be happy. To start over and live. I lied, and cheated, and I thought that killing her would be the end of it.” His voice broke completely. “I didn’t just destroy her life. I destroyed mine. And now—” He gestured helplessly. “Now it’s yours. And your children’s.”

“So there’s nothing I can do,” she muttered. She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears.

Sylus shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I'm so sorry.”

Some sins did not end with the sinner. Because some ghosts did not want justice or mercy or closure. They wanted remembrance. They wanted acknowledgment that what was taken had mattered.

Sylus would live out the rest of his days knowing with perfect clarity, that he had been loved fully once, and that it was you he had condemned to die, but you had sentenced him to remember.

His family had not been cursed. It had been claimed.

You had promised to stay. And you always kept your promises.

YAY! First Love and Deepspace story. I was hesitant to write for the game because I was having a hard time coming up anything good. But the moment I saw that post with that picture this idea just came to me! Hopefully y'all liked it and support me in the future.

And please please please like, comment, and/or reblog so I know you guys want to see me write and post more. And don't hesitate to drop ideas!

[quill-for-glory]

Are you a LADs lover who crave reading angst, betayal and horror? Well, here is my recommendation fic. Seriously, you all won't regret it.

Like, where shall I start?

.

.

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I agree with everyone at the comments. This fic really captures that Asian Horror vibes, though usually in stories like this, vengeful ghosts don't just settle for haunting the murderers/perpetuators (or ignore the accomplices in the case of Luke and Kieran even if they killed her as per Sylus' orders), they actually HURT them. Enough for those involved on her death to suffer major damages. Sometimes even killing them and the innocent people around them.

The fact that Non-MC settled for a far more diabolical revenge than that makes a crazier, twisted ending imo.

Still. Can you imagine if this curse follows Sylus and MC in their next life? That eventually one lifetime won't be enough for our resident vengeful, love-scorned ghost anymore, especially when she learns that MC and Sylus were bound by fate (and a much different curse) to forever live a new life in a new timeline?

Imagine that would make her resentment, anger and hatred even worse. And her powers stronger.

There will be no peace. No escape. No do over. Just endless pure psychological and mental torture where Non-MC will continue haunting their asses in their next lives. Over and over again.

And honestly? It'll definetely be a poetic justice well served for these two lying, cheating whore couple, thinking they could just move on and forget lol

And when the other LIs (who will undoubtedlty remember their past lives) eventually learned of this (because of their fates tied to MC), they'd be wary of starting intimacy/future family with MC. Especially Caleb being the poor bastard who experienced firsthand how his kids in one of his past lives suffered growing up as a consequence of their mom's shameless actions.

The souls of MC and Sylus (and eventually the other poor LIs who will be dragged down in this nightmarish cycle as a result) will never know rest and peace. As if being cursed (by Astra) to die and reincarnate every single time with your memories intact isn't punishment enough.

The thought makes me shudder just thinking about it. 😬

[ytmkiz]

why not me. caleb x non!mc reader

thinking about an isekai au where you somehow end up in the world of love and deepspace. but of course, you're just an npc working for the farspace fleet. you're familiar with the game, you know all about the boys and their routes. you're keenly aware of mc and her origins, know she's destined to each one in one way or another.   

you’re vaguely familiar with everything. know the boys and their routes. you're hyper aware of mc and her connection to the men.

except you don't care about any of that. back home, you were just a casual player; you're not particularly attached to any of them, not in that way, so you could care less. in fact, your top priority is getting the hell out of here and finding a way back home. hoping to return to your friends and family.

you even have a fiancé you desperately want to hold and kiss again.   

luckily, being within the vicinity of the fleet, you have a better chance at finding a way back home. you're sure the tunnel is a wormhole to the multiverse. so, there's a high probability of getting back to your reality, back to your earth, and not this wanderer infested, futuristic replica of one by entering it.

unfortunately, your inability to remain covert backfires. you're not so secretive when asking the soldiers about their missions into the tunnel, you leave pieces of your presence in the meetings with the higher ups, and more than once, you've abused the credentials entrusted to you to access classified information

your mishaps lead you to the likes of caleb, the newly appointed colonel.   

he observes you at first. watches your every move, sees how the smile stretched on your face is anything but sincere. how you don’t really speak to any of the other women on the staff, and this is the second time he's seen you walk out of the restroom wiping away tears with a tissue in your hand.   

a small, paranoid part of him assumes you're working with ever. there could be no other explanation as to why you were trying to access classified documents. why you so interested in the workings of the tunnel.

or why you almost bribed a pilot to fly you through it outside his patrol shift.

he confronts you. calls you into his room, stern and unwavering in his conviction. you're a mole, sent in to make sure whatever tricks they have up their sleeve are going according to plan.   

immediately after, you tell him that's not the case at all.   

there's been a misunderstanding. you're no spy for ever. you weren't implanted in the ranks for seeking information to return to them.

you're just a person who wants to go home.   

he's a bit confused by your words. you can see it in the way his brow raises, dragging his gaze along your features.   

homesick? well, he was homesick, too. he would much rather be with the woman he loves, at her apartment back in linkon.

he would prefer that than being a dog constricted by an unremovable chain, working for the fleet.

a few seconds pass, amd the turmoil of this existence has finally taken a toll on your psyche.

at your wit’s end. you fall to your knees, sobs racking your body as the realization dawns upon you. you’re completely alone and helpless.

returning home becomes more of an unattainable, impossible dream. 

that staying here, in this world, is your new reality, whether you like it or not.  

seeing how vulnerable you become, worry doesn’t paint his features, but caleb does near you, attempting to comfort you in any way he can. 

the fleet may have tried to turn him into an apathetic monster for their own gain, but no chip could erase that.

he’s not completely heartless. not yet.

he doesn’t get to finish his sentence about asking if there was anyone he could call before you’re trembling, terrified getting the words out.

you tell him. tell him you're not even from this world.   

your world is in another universe, probably billions of light-years away. you didn't grow up in skyhaven; you don’t have any credentials to even be working a job like this. 

you're just a woman desperately trying to go home because you miss your mom, you want to see your sister, and you want to hug your fiancé again.   

caleb finally understands this isn’t some act. your fear is true.

you’re genuinely distraught.

it doesn’t take long for him to wrap his mind around your revelation, the one about not being from his world.

surprisingly, it’s not too far fetched of a statement. he’s taken enough trips through the tunnel, he’s aware of what lies beyond, has had glimpses of both his pasts and futures when passing through.

still, he attempts to calm you.   

you’re lost and broken, a lot like him in a way.   

so he promises you, he’ll find a way for you to get back home.   

he uses his rank to grant you access to the database, allows you to search findings of solar systems that resemble yours, and get the soldiers under his command to describe in intricate details of their encounters with any bizarre meta flux or changes in space-time while on the field.

time continues passing, and he finds himself self-reporting to you on any updates he learns, big or small.   

you appreciate his help, but as days turn into weeks, you begin to lose hope.   

caleb, on the other hand, strangely becomes accustomed to your presence.

he learn things about you from observation alone. knows you tap your foot when you get too anxious, chew the caps of your pens in frustration, and rub the foot of your palm against your cheek when you desperately crave sleep.

it's the little things he notices about you that make him feel warm, almost protective of you.   

maybe it's also the way you're not infatuated with him, not like the other women who work in the fleet, much less the ones from college or the daa. it's as if your attempt to remain grounded in the face of uncertainty, mixed with severe homesickness, distract you from fawning over him.   

you don’t consider him an object of your desires.   

yeah, that must be what it is.

then one day, mc visits him.   

you're seated on a couch in his office, hand in your hair while the other is scribbling notes on the latest mission log from a star system found 4.57 light-years away.   

you don't pay her any mind when she walks in; you don't care to lift your gaze as she announces her presence, already heading straight towards caleb, who's at his desk, filing his own outdated paperwork.  

she notices you a second after, and grants you a smile while she tells you hi.

ripping your gaze from the screen in front of you, you give her one in return.

you're familiar with caleb's mc. aware she’s as possessive as he is. know she’s not fond of him being around others who weren't her; she didn't care to share him in any circumstance.   

but this version of mc—or rather, macy, as she introduces herself to you—didn't have the look of a woman willing to plant a toring chip in her brain.   

her smile was sincere, kind. you didn’t sense any hostility or jealousy within her.   

still, you don't hesitate to ask if they need privacy. you didn't mind leaving. you were about done with what you needed from caleb anyway.   

but caleb replies instantly, telling you no.

there was no need to. not when macy's visit would be short.

in seconds, he stands from his chair, already escorting her out of his office, and leaves you in the room to finish documenting your findings before you can argue against it.

hours slip by before they return, retracing their steps down the corridor.   

he's happy macy took the chance to visit him despite her hectic schedule, even happier that after catching up, they've already planned an outing to the fair for next friday.   

but when he opens the door and notices you're no longer in the same place, he finds himself a bit disappointed.   

all your belongings are gone, your spot empty.   

he subtly checks his phone. you never shot him a text, didn't even give him a call.   

macy, standing beside him, innocently asks if you work under him, and wants to know what title you hold.   

he answers, although slightly distracted.   

he's just doing you a favor, some official fleet business that he really can't tell her about. it's confidential.   

macy doesn't question it further, but she catches it. the way caleb's eyes had darted across the room in hopes of finding you right where he left you. senses how dejected he becomes upon realizing you never even gave him a heads-up or a goodbye text.   

she smiles with the knowledge she possesses and wishes him the best.   

even if he doesn't know it yet.   

"you mentioned you have a family back home." he asks you one night.

you nod, eyes still hovering over a line of text, trying to make sense of your own annotations.   

"what are they like?"   

your eyes meet his galaxy-iris gaze.   

you take a deep breath. you don't know how to approach talking about them without breaking down.   

"they're-" you set the display screen to the side, "my mom is still a grade school teacher, and my father is the owner of a car shop."   

"yeah?"   

"yeah."   

from across the room, he shifts in his chair, leaning his chin on his palm, as if urging you to continue.   

"my mom had me young. she was only twenty. my father was twenty-three. they met each other, eloped, and had me in the span of a year."   

"any siblings?"   

"just two."   

"pets?"   

"deathly allergic to cats and dogs, so no."   

"friends?"   

"a best friend named jazmine, another named eliana."   

"lover?"   

"yes. my fiance."   

for some odd reason, caleb's shoulders tense. he tears his gaze away from you and onto the hands that lay in your lap.

you ignore it.   

"before arriving here, he proposed to me, my childhood sweetheart. i've known him for most of my life." you pause, trying to force the lump that begins to form in your throat to cease. “i miss him every waking second. from when i open my eyes every morning to closing them at the end of the day. i miss his smile and his warmth. i miss the way he picked me up and spun me in his arms. miss the way he made my favorite meals and always bought me flowers at the end of a bad day.”

with your words, silence fills the room.   

but not for long.   

"caleb, i think..." then, the first tear falls. "i think i've been here so long that i'm forgetting the sound of his laughter. he'd always call me all sorts of nicknames, but i can't even remember what tone he'd use. i can’t recall the cracks in his voice that would happen when he’d call me.”

a thought, frightening enough, appears.   

"what if... what if i never go home? what if i'm stuck here forever and never destined to see the love of my life again? and all this time and effort was for nothing."   

caleb, who's shifted his gaze from you, to the floor, remains nothing but quiet as he drinks your words in.

knows he can't say what he wants to say aloud.

the clock on the wall of his office echoes, loud enough to leave you uneasy.

"caleb, can you say something? anything?" you mumble, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe the tears you've shed away.

“i could really use an anchor here."

you barely verbalize that last part.

but it's enough to drag caleb from his thoughts.

he swallows, rips his violet orbs from the floor to meet your own once more.  

it feels as if something is lodged in his throat. whether it be your name or the truth that's come to the surface, he's not sure.   

ultimately, he stands, crossing the room in just two strides. he’s  crouched in front of you, knee pressing onto the floor as his hand hovers over your own.   

he hesitates for a second, but the next thing you know, it settles over yours, warm and steady.   

"hey," his voice is low, but it carries a tenderness that you recall only ever belonging to mc when addressing her. “look at me."   

a bit reluctant, you do.

your eyes may have been overshadowed by grief, yet there’s a softness in them he wishes he could keep trapped forever.

and painfully so, they’re so full of a love that will never belong to him.   

"you're not forgetting him," he says as his thumb brushes over your knuckles. "you're just scared. anyone would be, being this far from home and from the one you love, it messes with your head."   

of course, if anyone could resonate with your desire to be with the one you hold close, caleb would.

you nod. still, you avert your eyes. his stare was too intense, filled with something you can't name.   

he continues, “i made a promise to you. i will get you back to your world. all this?" he gently cradles your cheek, "doesn't mean it was for nothing. you're strong and determined. you don't—will not—let go of things that matter to you."   

he smiles in a way that's too fond for someone you consider a friend.  

"and he clearly matters."   

your hand, the one that's being held by him, grips tightly around his own. he said the exact words you needed to hear.   

"thank you," your voice is small, a bit hoarse from the tears spilt moments ago. "when i get back, i won't forget you, caleb."   

your words land softly, yet they shatter something inside him.   

caleb xia has fallen in love with you.   

and he’d do anything for you.

he’d even sacrifice his newfound love—keep his own feelings at bay just to reassure you of the promise he’s been repeating since he first met you.

you are not from his world, and you are someone he's only known for a year. wishes he'd known you for much, much longer.

no you are not his. never will be.   

it may take him months, even years, to recover from his own broken heart, but imagining you happy with the one you love, safe and sound in your own dimension, is all he could ask for.

because loving someone means putting their needs and their wants first. it means sacrificing your heart for the sake of seeing them smile.

it means letting go, because you belong to another.

so he nods, squeezing your hand once more.

"and i think i'll spend the rest of my life loving you." but the words never leave his lips.   

later, when you've fallen asleep on the couch in his office, tear tracks dried against your cheeks, caleb stays idly by.   

he watches over you, lifts the blanket across your sleeping figure, making sure your protected against the cold that seeps into his office. smiles when you stir slightly from your dreams.   

this…this is okay. 

he'll continue loving you in silence.   

and he'll choose to even if it kills him. even if it means sinking with the weight of feelings you will never know he has.

even if it means he doesn’t have much longer with you at his side.

because he’s finally found your home, located your earth in a galaxy named the milky way, thousands of light years away.

he’d think to tell you the good news when you wake, can’t wait to see your excited shouts and the tension from your shoulders finally leave you.

he’ll take it in. savor every last second with you until you’ve escaped from his view.

and he'll still love you, thousands of light years away and decades after you're gone.

⏾

a/n: for any confusion, i decided to leave out the fact that n!mc tells him he's from a video game. i feel like it would send him to an existential crisis. also, going with the theory that each boy's route with mc deviates into it's own pocket world from the main story, the mc in this is sylus's mc (because from what i recall, in his branch, it leads her into the fleet regardless, hence finding caleb alive.

i hate when i have a ton of pending to be finished wips (i'm looking at you why do you call me when you're high), but when inspiration for a new drabble strikes i genuinely reach a flow state never before seen and manage to finish it in one sitting.

n e ways, guess who won the ticketmaster war and won vip tickets to see bts aaaah. also, seeing the lead singer of the maria’s in concert tonight. what are the chances she sings sienna. i know for a fact she does sing an unreleased version of no one noticed so yay!

[quill-for-glory]

💫 The Adventures of Rafayel the Mer-Twink 🧜‍♀️ Part 2

A Love and Deepspace Transmigration Reader-insert Crack fic

A/N: New chapter, baby. To those who read the 1st chapter, thank you for the likes and reblogs. This series actually has no plot (yet), just Reader messing around in Rafayel's body lmao. But I will try to keep the chapters going whenever the mood and inspiration strikes me.

Also, a heads up, while this series won't have any explicit smut (sorry folks i don't have the talent for writing it 😅), there will be implied smut in the long run instead.

But the big question is...will there ever be a Rafayel you x LI sexy content?

Well... I guess you'll just have to keep reading this series to find out. 🙃🤪

C/W: Inappropriate language, possible BL themes (is it BL if Reader is originally a girl though? 🤔), accidental coming out

Part 1 << Part 2 >> Part 3

Part 2: “NO, I AM NOT A TWINK-INFUSED YURI HEROINE, LEAVE ME ALONE”

Several days had passed.

Days of waking up in Rafayel’s unfairly smooth, moisturized, soft-as-butter mer-twink skin.

Days of staring out the window like a Victorian widow whose spouse died in the war, except your war was against romance flags.

Days of Thomas aka Manager-kun (yes, you finally learned his name hurray!) banging on your studio door yelling, “THE DEADLINE IS IN THREE DAYS YOU VIBRANT MENACE—”

And you shouting back, wrapped in a blanket like the world’s saddest sushi roll:

“I AM GOING THROUGH A TRAUMA ARC LET ME DETERIORATE IN PEACE GOSH.”

Shockingly, Thomas did not quit yet. Probably because Rafayel paid well. Probably also because he wasn’t allowed to abandon magical aquatic drama princes.

Sometimes you swore you saw him mutter prayers into his coffee like a man one meeting away from losing his sanity. He even started bringing extra espresso shots to your arguments, like holy water for your nonsense.

Somewhere around day five, you discovered something horrifying in the security feed:

Rafayel had already hit his head before you transmigrated.

He fell off a ladder. While trying to paint. Because he was perched on it like a dramatic swan in a ballet.

You stared at the footage.

“…So I DIDN’T get isekai’d because of a tragic fate,” you murmured. “I got isekai’d because my host body ate the floor like a muffin.”

Thomas, tiredly sipping his 20th espresso, nodded. “You were probably concussed but you being you tried to sleep it off.”

You gasped dramatically.

“OH MY GOD I POSSESSED A CLUMSY, ART-DRUNKED MER-BEAN.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“HE FELL OFF A LADDER LIKE A MAJESTIC IDIOT. A PAINTER SWAN DIVING TO HIS DEATH BUT FAILED.”

“I said don’t say it like that.”

You replayed the clip five more times anyway, laughing hysterically every single time he bounced slightly after landing.

Tragic? Maybe. Entertaining? Absolutely.

The Painting Phase (aka “Thank God for Muscle Memory”)

The good news: Rafayel’s body remembered how to paint even if you barely knew how to draw a circle.

The bad news: Rafayel’s body painted like GOD and your soul screamed every time because you didn’t deserve this power.

You would wake up at 3AM, look at a finished canvas and whisper, “Who did this.”

(The paintings were all unreasonably, breathtakingly gorgeous—each brushstroke radiated angst and passion, as if Rafayel’s soul decided to flex through you while you were unconscious. Once, you painted a koi fish that looked like it could file taxes.)

Your hand twitched.

“Oh. Me. But not me. Twink-me.”

Thomas once found you lying face-down on the studio floor.

“What are you doing.”

“Processing.”

“Processing what?”

“That I am powered by trauma and stolen artistic talent.”

"..."

Hermit Mode: Activated

You refused to leave the penthouse.

Why? Because unlike Real Rafayel, who could fight with daggers like a sexy aquatic ninja, you would pass out if someone sneezed aggressively. Probably.

You practiced your fire powers out of curiosity ONCE. Set a potted plant on fire. Cried for twenty minutes. Thomas installed ten more fire extinguishers in the house. For safety, he said.

So you hid inside, ate cookies, played with Rafayel’s fancy art pens, and prayed Wanderers wouldn’t show up like:

“Hey bby u up? 😘”

No. No you were NOT up. You were hiding like a coward. Pride who? Courage what? Not here.

Also you were avoiding MC like she carried the plague, the Black Death, and romantic tension.

You even hissed once when she called.

The Confrontation

MC, after having her texts and call unanswered for the nth time this week, finally lost patience.

She stormed into the studio one morning like a tiny tornado.

You nearly threw your paintbrush at her like holy salt.

She blinked. Soft smile, concerned eyes. “Rafayel?”

You backed up like she had fangs.

“DON’T COME CLOSER! I—uh—have a disease.”

Thomas immediately cut in. “Yeah, he fell off a ladder and hit his head a week ago. He’s been weird—er—weirder than usual since. Won’t see a doctor. Thinks they’re evil or something.”

“Doctors ARE evil,” you snapped. “They poke you. With needles. Sadism disguised as healthcare.”

MC stared. “…Are you okay?”

You nodded way too fast. “Yes. No. Maybe. Emotionally? Spiritually? No.”

She sighed, grabbed your sleeve and dragged you out the door like you weighed nothing. Which was insulting, because you were taller (and much prettier) than her dammit!

“Coffee,” she said, tone firm. “We need to talk.”

“IT’S NOT A DATE RIGHT?!” you shrieked, flailing, as she forced you into her car.

“It’s just coffee.”

“OKAY BUT MY SOUL IS STRAIGHT.”

She didn’t respond. She was probably regretting caring about you.

The Coffee Crisis

You sat stiffly like someone shoved a ruler down your spine while MC sipped her drink, internally thinking ways on how to navigate this conversation.

Because what if this turns out to be a confession?!?!

I am so NOT ready for this... you lamented, trying not to panic.

“So,” she asked gently, “why are you avoiding me? My calls? My messages?”

You blurted it before thinking, voice louder than pride warranted:

“I’M GAY.”

The café went silent.

MC blinked. “What?”

“I’m GAY. And I’m scared if I hang out with you I’ll accidentally romance you because obviously I'm too beautiful for you to resist and then BAM—kiss scene, intimacy CGs, tragic yuri grilled in a BL route—”

She stared.

You continued digging your grave.

“I'm sorry but I can’t date you. I am a girl on the inside. I don’t want a girlfriend. I'd rather be the hot guy's girlfriend. I am not emotionally stable enough to be a sapphic twink.”

MC slowly placed her cup down.

“…Are you having a mental breakdown?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you think I'm trying to date you?”

“Yes? I mean no? I mean—I DON’T KNOW I JUST PANIC WHEN YOU SMILE AT ME, OKAY?!?"

MC pinched the bridge of her nose like Thomas did when you breathed too loudly.

Then she said flatly, “Rafayel. I asked you to drink coffee with me because you’re my weird, dramatic friend, not my romance target or whatever it is that you're thinking. I’m not seducing you. Calm down.”

You froze.

"...Really?"

"Really."

Silence.

“My bad,” you whispered.

She sighed, fond and exhausted. “You really did scramble your brains, huh?”

You shrugged and sipped your drink through the straw, hoping the iced latte could drown your shame.

Ugh, how embarassing...

On the drive back, you sat curled in the passenger seat like a sulking shrimp.

You whispered weakly, “So… you’re not, like, mad?”

“I’m confused. Deeply. But not mad.”

“…You still want to be friends?”

“Yes.”

“…Even though I'm secretly a girl who likes pink and sparkles?”

She stared at the road. “I’m choosing not to unpack that sentence.”

You exhaled dramatically. “I really thought you’d think I was falling for you.”

MC snorted. “If you ever do, I’ll call a paramedic.”

You nodded solemnly.

“A fair response.”

When you got home, Thomas asked, “How was coffee?”

You collapsed on the couch. “I accidentally came out. But like, incorrectly.”

Thomas sighed. Of course.

You clutched a pillow, beaming. "But on the bright side, at least now she knows I am NOT a romantic route. Or a side quest.”

And then MC's text came in.

MC: Next time you dodge my calls I’m dragging you out again.

You groaned into the pillow.

A/N: Poor MC. Imagine if she DID (or did she not? who knows?) have a crush on Rafayel, only to get friend zoned instead. But hey, at least she now has a wonderful new GBF! Small blessings, amirite???

Divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[quill-for-glory]

💫 The Adventures of Rafayel the Mer-Twink 🧜‍♀️ Part 1

A Love and Deepspace Transmigration Reader-insert Crack fic

Summary: You wake up inside the body of a pretty merman-twink, accidentally becomes a genius artist, refuses romance with MC like it’s a disease, screams through combat training, flirts with hot guys like a dropped Wi-Fi signal, and somehow convinces everyone you're not insane despite being one spark away from deep-frying yourself.

C/W: Inappropriate language, possible BL themes (is it BL if Reader is originally a girl though? 🤔)

A/N: This is my Halloween special surprise to all you LADs fans out there. Although really, this work is nothing but a crack fic as a result of me wanting something new other than smut and angst...not that there's anything wrong with them (i love me some smut and angst so keep it coming!!!) but like food we need more variety of flavors and I choose to feed you crack coz why the hell not?

Btw, this is my first LADS fic so if there are any inconsistencies, it's coz I haven't played the game past Chapter 3 and just relied on fanfics and good old wiki for references lol. So yeah, gonna claim creative license if some facts were inaccurate.

This fic may happen to offend some Rafayel fans even though I don't intend for it to be...so guys please don't come after me, ok? This fic is just for entertainment and LOLs only. That doesn't mean I am making fun of Rafayel.

I repeat: I AM NOT MAKING FUN OF OUR FISHIE. Or any other LADS character for that matter. Besides, I actually like Rafayel. He's like my fourth fave after Caleb, Sylus and Zayne (not in that order obviously). Also, the jokes/puns might be super lame and probably even cringe-y but I hope you guys will enjoy it anyway. 🤭

Happy Halloween! 🎃

Part 1 >> Part 2

Part 1: HELP, I'M A MER-TWINK!

You died.

At least, that was the most reasonable explanation for what happened after your car got hit by someone who decided turning left at a red light was a suggestion.

One minute you were driving home, listening to another analysis video about some love interest on an otome game through your speakers and how Rafayel Qi was nothing but a poor, tragic yet dangerous fish boy yada yada yada...

The next—BAM!

Airbags. Darkness. Existential thoughts.

And then you woke up.

To a silky pillow. To a ridiculously expensive duvet.

To a ceiling so fancy it probably had a skincare routine.

“…Huh?”

Your voice slid out like honey—smooth, deep, disgustingly attractive.

You sat up.

And froze.

Because staring back at you from the mirror across the room was—

No fucking way.

Is that..RAFAYEL FREAKING QI FROM LOVE AND DEEPSPACE?!?!

You gaped at your reflection.

Purple short curly hair? Check.

Blue-pink bioluminescent eyes? Check.

Beauty marks like God said "let’s decorate him"? Check.

Face so pretty it made you want to punch a wall? Sadly, check.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?!

You scrambled out of bed and immediately tripped over your own legs. Tall. Long. Graceful. Man legs. Slim waist. Soft hips. A flawless body that was lean but somehow sculpted and seductive like god and oh my is that an adonis belt how nice...

Realizing that you've been fondling Rafayel's your body, you squeaked and peeled your hands away, face burning hot.

Bitch what the fuck you doing?!?!? You slapped yourself before glancing back at the mirror.

Still...this body... and that face... it might be in 3D animation anymore, but this was definetely Rafayel's. Because who else in fiction world have all those ridiculously unfairly good looks and colorful physical traits straight from a fantasy novel aside from him?

But what did this mean for you though? And what happened to your original body? Did you...die?

Somehow, you were okay with that. Well, not really. Sure, you'll miss your family, your friends (or lack thereof), your life (what life?), but what can you do? That life was already over. No matter how much you cry and angst about it you couldn't go back. You're ass is stuck here now. Probably.

Sighing, you ran a hand down your face.

"I can't believe I am now possessing a guy's body..." you muttered in shock.

Then you paused.

And oh so slowly looked down. In that direction.

Gulping, your fingers slowly peeled the hem of Rafayel’s shorts away.

To peek. Just a little.

.

.

.

Eyes wide, you yanked your shorts wide and shriek-laughed.

“HOLY COW IT'S A PENIS THAT'S A PENIS I HAVE A PENIS NOW OMG WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?”

Someone burst through the door.

“Rafayel!” Rafayel's manager (you forgot his name) looked ready to call emergency services. “Are you okay?! I heard screaming—”

“I just saw—my—TWINK APPENDAGE!” you choked. Like you just saw a monster.

And what a monster it was oh god...

The man blinked. Slowly. “…You what.”

“I AM A GIRL! IN A TWINK BODY. AND I HAVE A TWINK MEAT!"

You stood and gestured down to your...yeah.

“I—” the man sighed. “I am going to pretend I misheard that.”

But your crazed panicking self grabbed his shoulders like a war-torn soldier pleading for salvation. “Bro, listen. I transmigrated.”

“Huh?”

“This is not my body. I died and woke up here. I am not Rafayel Qi. I am a 30-year-old plus woman with back pain and crippling student loans.”

“You’re thirty?” he asked, dazed—clearly focusing on the wrong part.

“Yes, and now I’m a hot aquatic probably bisexual booby-trap twink who fights alien space monsters and has fire powers and MERMAN HEAT DAYS??”

“…what.”

“Oh my god. EBB DAY.” You clutched your hair, on the verge of hypervelenting. “I READ HIS WIKI. HE GOES INTO HEAT LIKE A TROPICAL AQUARIUM BREEDING SEASON. DOES THAT MEAN I GOTTA FIND SOME HOE TO LAY FISH EGGS WITH?!?!"

"Uh—"

"NO. NO WAY. I REFUSE."

"What are you—?"

"I SHOULD BE THE ONE GETTING HUMPED, NOT THE ONE DOING THE HUMPING GODDAMIT."

"What."

"I DEMAND A REFUND!”

The other man stared at you as you continued to scream at the ceiling about gods, backshots and takebacks. The gears in his brain were grinding like someone poured glue in them.

You crouched on the floor as younfonyinue to wail dramatically.

“I don’t know how to paint. I don’t even know how to swim and make it sexy. And I CAN’T DATE THE PROTAGONIST. SHE’S CUTE BUT I AM STRAIGHT AS A RULER, SIR.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. That fall really scrambled ypur brain."

Before you could question him about that, a message-like sound pinged in from the direction of the bed side table.

Curious, you moved to snatch Rafayel's phone and read the incoming message from the last person you ever wanted to hear from.

MC: Good morning! 😊 Ready for training later?

Wanderer activity in your area went up again 💥 Thought you'd want early notice.

Also, you promised to finish that portrait today!

Portrait.

Training.

MC.

The romance route.

You unlocked the phone using your thumbprint and typed a reply furiously.

You: NO THANK YOU I AM BUSY HAVING AN IDENTITY CRISIS BYEEEERSSS

The typing bubble on her end paused.

Then resumed. Then paused again.

Manager-kun (it's what you'll be calling him until you figure out his name), who had stood behind you to read your text, snatched the device. “You are NOT texting Ms. Hunter like that.”

“Who cares? I’m a disaster now.”

“You were always a disaster,” he muttered.

As you continue to drown in your woes of being a reluctant love interest and how life was unfair and all that jazz, a fire suddenly burst from your hands.

You screamed.

Manager-kun screamed.

The curtains screamed (metaphorically) as they caught on fire in your panicked flailing.

“HELP MANAGER-KUN I'M ON FIRE LITERALLY!” you wailed.

Luckily, Manager-kun was efficient in his job and managed to whip out a fire extinguisher...from somewhere.

Once the whole thing was over, you cried as you finally collapsed onto the fainting couch (because of course Rafayel had one). A little singed, yes, but not hurt.

“This world wants me dead. I don’t want to paint. I don’t want to do romance arcs. I want my sweatpants and Netflix. And my uterus.”

“Rafayel,” the man said gently, spraying foam on a flaming pillow. “Let’s get you help.”

“No time,” you said, dramatic wind effect provided by trauma. “The aliens are coming. The plot (whatever the hell it is) is moving. My ovaries are gone.”

He blinked. "Okay... so what do you plan to do next then?"

You thought hard for a moment. Until you suddenly stood up from your seat.

Fist clenched. And accidentally lit the rug on fire.

“I am Rafayel Qi now.”

“You are a hazard—that's what you are,” Manager-kun corrected as he moved to extinguish the fire. Again.

“But I will survive," you continued, ignoring his comment. "I will learn to paint to avoid poverty. I will avoid kissing MC (ew!). I will not enter aquatic breeding mode.”

“PLEASE don’t say that out loud ever again.”

“And I will avenge my original body! Somehow! …Maybe by beating up monster jellyfish!”

You struck a heroic pose.

Fire flared behind you again.

The bedroom sprinkler system exploded on.

Manager-kun dropped the fire extinguisher and groaned into his hands.

“Why is my life like this.”

Bonus

You: I will not simp over MC.

Also you, weeks later during a fight:

“Protect MC 😤✨ SHE IS A PRECIOUS BABY AND I’M A MAJESTIC MER-TWINK WITH FIRE FISTS—WAIT THEY’RE ON FIRE AGAIN HELP THOMAS—”

A/N: Poor Thomas. This is just the beginning of his misery. If he thinks handling Rafayel was a pain in the ass then he'll be in for a surprise lol.

Thomas: regretting entire existence

Anyways...should I continue or not??? Leave a comment, subscribe and reblog. ♥️

Divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

love and deepspace au : series masterlist

lads x nonmc | angst with comfort, romance, hurt, fluff, heavy smut, mentions of different kinds of abuse, trauma and murder, hints of manipulation, etc, happy ending with bonus parts

tag : [the sleepy queen's library]

MINORS DON'T INTERACT | 18+ | READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

what if they all existed in one timeline?

what happens if all the fated bonds between mc and each of the five men began to fall? when each of the men saw that they had a choice, to love freely and to be loved back without all the obligated threads of destiny?

what if, because of her desire to keep each of them tied with her, they each began to truly see another possibility that love doesn't have to be restricting and suffocating at all?

that shackles don't have to be cursed and cold?

that nights could also offer peace and dreams instead of nightmares?

that burdens could also be shared in order to breathe?

that devotion doesn't always mean sacrifice?

that love doesn't need any kind of delusion and lies?

that oftentimes one forgets the importance of self-love?

what happens then?

read through the whole series to find out. all written in the reader's pov, except for mc's version. if you're an mc lover, best not to read this as i guarantee that she's not the good person in this series.

[ recommending to follow the order below ]

sylus : the cure to his curse

zayne : the cure to his nightmares

xavier : the cure to his burdens

rafayel : the cure to his loneliness

caleb : the cure to his delusions

mc : the cure to her emptiness

check out my other stories here : love and deepspace

| reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as a way to support writers | please don't translate or post my works on other sites or blogs thank you | i dont have a tag list because im shit at tracking them

will update to add the drabbles from the asks, but they're usually linked under the final chapter of each story.

also, i won't include each of the chapters here because i have recently learned that reblogs don't include the updates.

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷

[quill-for-glory]

Recommended for LADS x Non-MC lovers!!!

Also, this series is not for hardcore MC fans, so please skip this instead...

[quill-for-glory]

Imagine if Zayne, who hates carrots with a passion, gets reincarnated or turned into a bunny...

That would be his worst nightmare, don't you think? 😅😂🤣

[kitimeq]

⊹₊⟡⋆ gravity hurts (you made it so sweet) 🤍 caleb 以昼.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⋆˙⟡pairing: caleb x nonmc! reader

⋆˙⟡word count: 17.3k (i wrote a book lol)

⋆˙⟡summary: the three of you have been the best of friends ever since you remembered, and although your love for Caleb wasn’t exactly the friendly kind, you were more than happy to have him close. But who would’ve thought that one night by yourselves would end this way? The warmth of acceptance and the sting of the heartbreak that came after, and among all of it—a lost boy desperate to make it right.

⋆˙⟡tags: 18+, mdni!!! NOT a love triangle!! mc is treated as a caleb’s sis in this one, the reader and mc and caleb are friends!! best of friends!! unrequited love!! but not really, angst, angst with happy ending, misunderstandings, or more like lies, love confessions obsessed caleb, kinda pathetic caleb, insecure caleb, he cries, we cry, everyone literally cries, first times, but the scene is quite short, they love each other so much, my babies, please read it.

⋆˙⟡writer’s note: my first ever commission for my wonderful stella 🥺 i hope you like it baby and i hope all of u will like it too, despite the length. i wanted to stretch it in time so that the reconciliation at the end wouldn’t be forced. i hope you’ll read it and like it, i loved writing for caleb 🤍

!!likes, reblogs and comments, pls comment, would be appreciated ♡ let me know what u think!

* 20+ unread messages from [ my miss hunter!<3 ]*

✉︎ baby what happened, where are you?

✉︎ you don’t pick up and even read my messages, i don’t know what’s happening, are you okay?

✉︎ caleb’s going totally ap(pl)eshit pun intended god i hope if you’re reading this you laughed at least. PLEASE write back or i’ll join him.

✉︎ he’s actually going insane, does he know something? he refuses to tell me anything, what happened between you guys? i was absent for literally one meeting, did you throw hands or something? he seems really unstable, like, much more than usual and he already had issues before, that’s for SURE.

✉︎ i’m so sorry for joking. i’m just really worried. it’s been a week. please respond to me, i don’t know what to do. i need to know you’re safe.

✉︎ what did he do? now i know that he’s at fault here, he’s acting insane.

✉︎ he’s not sleeping. i don’t think he’s eating either? he looks like a walking corpse and he’s still looking for you everywhere. i’m not sure who’s managing the fleet now but for sure not him.

✉︎ he’s not saying a single word. i know now that he must’ve done something, he’s not just worried, he’s fucking terrified and to be honest i am too. it’s been almost two weeks now, please answer me.

✉︎ i swear i won’t tell him anything. just please respond.

It was supposed to be a day like any other.

You, her, him—sitting together, eating your favorite food, maybe watching one of the movies MC somehow always managed to convince you to watch. Such nights always ended in the same way: with you sleeping next to her, right on Caleb’s bed. The gruesome scenes replayed behind your closed eyelids, your body nearly sprawled on top of your friend, your hand gripping hers—too tightly to just be affectionate. Caleb’s laugh echoed through his apartment, jokes and jabs aimed right at you, spoken in soft tones from his usual spot on the couch, where he always slept during your sleepovers.

And while you were pouting and trying to defend yourself from his absolutely false accusations of being a scaredy-cat, it was always his little sister who defended you like a lioness. Her clever comebacks always softened his teasing nature towards you. But it was all just a silly little game—the truth was you didn’t mind being teased, you knew Caleb long enough to realize that it was just the way in which he showed affection. It just so happened that MC showed hers by protecting you and attacking Caleb right back, every time his teasing seemed to be endless.

“Easy, pip, I’m just tryin’ to get her mind off of that spoooky imitation of a movie.” He answered between quiet laughs, and a quiet scoff left your mouth, quickly followed by a small smile. “Besides, if she really was scared, she would sleep here with me. She would be much, much safer, right?” His question followed by your name, and you immediately sprung upwards to sit on your legs.

“As if! You would probably maul me in your sleep before any monster would even get a chance to reach me.” You answered quickly, your body turning toward the salon where he slept, your eyes meeting MC’s, shining with mirth in the darkness. You heard an exaggerated gasp from him, and you imagined how he probably looked right now: gripping his shirt right on top of his chest in a gesture feigning hurt.

“You wound me. I would protect you with all I have, my Evol, my Fleet, my annoying little sister—”

“Jerk!”

“—From any harm the flying sharks would want to cause you.” You laughed quietly, and you felt the tension in your shoulders slowly dissolving. MC’s faux-offended expression, along with his soft voice were doing a great job at melting the irrational fear you felt in your chest after the movie.

A second passed; then two, maybe three, while your eyes were looking through the huge glass walls, following the clouds that were drifting languidly outside. A sigh left your lips, and your hand squeezed that of MC, who was laying beside your sitting body, her eyes already closed. And when their laughs died down entirely, their breaths slowly evening out, preparing for a good night’s sleep, that’s when you decided to add one more thing.

“Laugh at me all you want, but it’s your fault for living so high up in the clouds, where all the flying sharks in the world have us literally handed to them on a silver platter. But fine, I don’t care anymore, eat up you little motherfu—”

“Oh my god—”

His bubbly laugh echoed loudly, bouncing off of the walls, filling the rooms, breaking the tranquil atmosphere that had fallen not so long ago. His sister’s body shook with laughter right next to yours, wide smile now present on your lips. Your silly joke landed exactly how you wanted it to land—concealing the fear still nestled inside you, simmering delicately just beneath the surface of your smile. Which was, despite their assumptions, not only caused by the abominations presented in the movie.

The enormous clouds, surrounding you from everywhere—that was what truly bothered you. The vastness and uncertainty of the sky which stretched out before you, visible through the glass walls, its eerie silence making the little hairs on your nape stand straight.

Sleepovers at Caleb’s place, which had happened occasionally ever since he moved to Skyhaven to study—and continued even after he became a Farspace Colonel—were something you had already got used to and looked forward to. But the location of his apartment, the surroundings and their quietness, the strangely uneasy privacy and stillness, especially at night—that was what made you so scared every time you were here.

You never told them about your little fear; you didn’t want to cause problems, especially when they were both so happy whenever the three of you found enough time for a sleepover, and Caleb’s place was perfect for accommodating all of you. Besides, you had your best friend, a literal Hunter, close to you, and Caleb’s presence right behind you, just a wall away. Your mind knew that you were safe, it was just your body that was having second thoughts in a form of occasional shivers and quickened heartbeat.

That’s why it always striked you whenever he seemed to notice your concealed discomfort, which this time happened an hour after you said your good night’s. Mc’s breath was already calm and steady, yours far from it, unwanted thoughts and the feeling of uncertainty making you lose your precious hours of sleep.

You heard him first: his calm steps, quiet breath. You saw him second: his head peeking through the door frame, eyes wide open, not clouded with sleep, landing straight on yours. His body approached the bed frame, and he crouched slowly by your side, a small smile adorning his lips. And you felt him at last: his huge, warm hand searched for yours under the covers, and proceeded to hold it gently, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles in a comforting gesture. You were familiar with such touches, both him and his sister were touchy-feely ever since you remember. So you reciprocated his smile, tiredness clutching to your lashes, yet mind still refusing to rest.

“Are you okay? I heard you tossin’ and turnin’.” He whispered, whether to avoid waking his sister up or to not disturb your precious moment, you weren’t sure. You met his beautiful, sparkling eyes, which always made your stomach twist with longing, and you already started to feel better. His gaze was so gentle, so earnest that your heart decided to switch the reason of its rapid beating from fear to a complete adoration.

You were laying on your side, a pillow warm underneath your cheek, and your hand squeezed his in an answer to his worry. You noticed that his hands were dry and rugged, but so pleasantly warm. And so were your cheeks, their color fortunately hidden from his watchful eyes behind the curtain of the darkness.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just a little uneasy, that’s all.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but his eyes were giving you skeptical signals as if he knew exactly what you were hiding.

The truth that the sky and space scared you, when he was the one who was constantly covered by the clouds, was always embarrassing to admit out loud. And thankfully, he never pressed you to do it.

Instead, he hummed, his chin resting on the edge of the bed, his eyes landing on your clasped hands, thumb sliding through your fingers back and forth. You knew he had no idea, but that slight touch was enough to make you shiver, your heart filled with unspoken, overwhelming emotions towards the one who was supposed to just be your best friend.

“But you know you can always come to me, right? The couch is really cozy and maybe you would feel safer there, somehow. Aaand, I’m much bigger than her. More comfortable too, I’m sure.” Your lips turned up in a smile, and your eyes closed for a second, trying to focus on calming your heart down. When you finally opened them, he was looking right at you with an unreadable expression. His face seemed to get closer to yours too, most likely unknowingly.

From such proximity you could see the freckles that covered his face like small specks of cosmic dust, that you have always longed to trace with your fingers. His eyes were also a sight to behold, even in the darkness they shined so brightly, violet mixed with a hint of a sunset, always so full of wonder and awe, looking right back at you. He was so handsome, even covered only by the moonlight, when you always thought that a warm sunlight suit him best.

“We’re not kids anymore, Caleb. Sleeping in the same bed would be a little bit weird, don’t you think?” He scoffed under his breath, and you bit your lip, not wanting your true emotions to appear on your face. Desperate to not let him know how much you’d like to join him, to fall asleep resting in his embrace.

“I don’t.” His reply instant, a sure whisper, accompanied by a slight shift of his head. His hair looked so soft, the strands falling into his eyes, making you want to reach out and fix them. His faint freckles seemed to flicker, once again catching your attention, teasing you to give each one of them a small kiss. But you knew that you didn’t have the right to. “Besides, we’re friends. You know I would never touch you or anything. You’re safe with me.”

These exact words echoed through your mind months later, a memory fresh and vivid, the only one you could think of when your heart wanted to beat straight out of your chest.

I would never touch you.

You remembered him saying, on that day that was supposed to be like any other, yet MC cancelled on you at the last moment. You were already drinking boba next to the relaxed Caleb, leaving you two alone for the first time in what felt like forever. An emergency mission, was her excuse, and although you were upset that she couldn’t make it, the happiness of finally being able to spend some time with Caleb, whom you missed just as much, was enough to raise your mood back up.

I would never touch you.

That sentence swirled inside your head, hours after you both went out for a hotpot, sharing a meal filled with laughter, catching up on nothing and everything all at once. You always had fun together, the years of friendship formed thanks to MC made you comfortable with one another, the banter teasing but affectionate, the atmosphere warm and familiar. Later you went for a walk in the park, searching for squirrels, and sending MC pictures of every single one you managed to spot with a short caption ‘You’. After that, you also stopped at the arcade to play with claw machines for some time: you managed to win a small cat plushie for MC, while Caleb gave you a similar one he got for you when you weren’t looking. And then, after the sun had long since set, you went back to his place—in the same way you always did when meeting up in Skyhaven. But this time, you two were completely alone.

I would never touch you.

And yet, by heavens, you thought that after that night there wasn’t any place on your body he left untouched. Not when he was paying such a close attention to you, his hands wandering absolutely everywhere, accompanied by his shaken breaths and whispers full of worship and wonder.

You weren’t sure who kissed whom first, your mouths connecting unexpectedly, meeting right in the middle, the movie you put on a while ago still playing in the background. The flakes of popcorn scattered everywhere around you; the bowl had fallen from your hands, so desperate was he to pull you to himself the moment he dared to push his tongue past your lips—uncertainly at first—only to feel how quickly you accepted him.

You were almost dizzy with happiness of finally having him this close, touching at his hair, neck, shoulders, waist. He was holding you in his arms tightly, squeezing your waist, while you sat comfortably on his crossed legs, lips sealed to his. But suddenly, your head became heavy the moment the gravity of the situation pulled you down. You pushed him away, pressing your hands to his broad shoulders.

You parted with a gasp, your breath uneven, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He didn’t look any better, if his equally red cheeks and tousled hair were any indicator. His slightly chapped lips chased after yours, eyes lidded and brows furrowed when he felt the loss of your warmth.

“C—Caleb, wait, stop, what on earth are we doing—” You tried to reason, your legs struggling to stand, your heart uncertain what it truly meant to him. A panic overtook you, your true feelings suddenly out in the open, composure lost in a moment of weakness. You remember meeting his eyes in the room lit only by his TV, his head already turned your way, closer than it ever was before. That’s all it took; the sudden closeness, his intense, lingering gaze and hand reaching your way, for you to start making rush decisions.

He didn’t let you escape. In one quick motion you were grabbed by your arms and pushed back into his chest. His hands softly squeezed the flesh, his head fell onto your shoulder listlessly. Dark hair brushed at your neck when you heard his shaky breaths, his body trembling under the touch of your fingers, which now rested on his torso. They were the only barrier keeping you from melting entirely into his embrace.

“No, please—please. Don’t go.” He choked out, his voice pained, his forehead nuzzling up to the juncture between your shoulder and neck. His lips touched your neck, and you gasped. “Don’t go. Don’t run away from me. Please.” A quiet plea, which made you close your eyes in an attempt to finally think; think of the reason it happened, think of the ways in which it would affect your friendship, think of what it truly meant for him.

Afraid that the answer would hurt you.

Your head suddenly felt too heavy for your body, mind spiraling with possible answers, when you heard his voice once again, loud and certain against your heated skin.

“I dreamed of this—Of you—” He nuzzled at your neck, sending a shiver throughout your whole body, your chest squeezing, the implication slowly uncovering into something crystal clear. “Of holding you. Touching you, like this—” His fingers started a gentle trial up your spine and you pressed your body closer to his on impulse. His left hand buried in your hair, softly touching your scalp, and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze. He looked ruined; eyes glossy and eyebrows scrunched in an image resembling an anguish. His eyes were shifting between yours and your lips, which you were biting in uncertainty. “For so, so long, you have no idea how I—”

“Caleb—”

“Let me. Let me kiss you one more time, just once.” The last word a desperate whisper, his eyes stuck on your lips, his head getting closer and closer with every second, as though he psychically couldn’t help himself. He cupped your cheek and placed his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it from the confines of your teeth, his touch feather-light. A quiet grunt left him and he met your eyes again, your hands going to grab him by the shoulders to gain more balance. You were getting dizzy, his proximity maddening, his touches and honeyed words overwhelming. “I was always scared to be alone with you like this, and this is the reason. I knew that the moment you let me, I will continue to take, take, take…” He closed his eyes, his forehead falling onto yours, your heavy breaths already mingling. The hand on your cheek started shaking, but a calloused thumb never stopped caressing your skin. “You can say ‘no’ to me. You can say ‘no’ alright? Just—please. Please say somethin’. Anything. You’re so quiet and it’s killin’ me here—”

“I—I want the same thing. Caleb, I—” You finally breathed out, your eyes half opened, lowered to look at his chest, where laid a necklace you and MC gave him quite a while ago, before his first trip to Skyhaven. That memory appeared behind your lashes, along with MC’s face, the image making you halt momentarily. “Oh God, but what about MC? Wouldn’t she be weirded out when we suddenly—” You flinched again, and this time he caught you instantly, his big hands reaching for yours, pressing them into his forehead like a prayer, then huffing out a low laugh.

“She knows. She figured me out ages ago.” You didn’t hide your surprise, your heart beating so quickly you thought it will beat straight out of your chest. “You don’t have to worry about anythin’, alright? If only you feel—You fell the way I do, then I—”

“Ages…?” The word stuck inside your head, the implications making your eyes sparkle. He lowered your hands to rest flat on his chest, and you felt it—the thump of his heart matching yours, a rapid, uneven beat that could only mean one thing.

“Ages.” He answered surely, his violet eyes glued entirely to yours, his hand covering your palms. And when he nudged your nose with his, silently asking for permission, you found that you didn’t have any reason to refuse him anymore.

Not when you wanted him just as passionately.

Your lips met his again in a kiss so intense it was nearly bruising, your hands going over his neck, your mouth swallowing down his sigh of contentment. His hands quickly found their way under your t-shirt; grabbing and holding, caressing and squeezing everywhere he could touch.

I would never touch you.

And yet he did. He did and continued throughout the whole night, his hands never leaving your body, his lips almost permanently sealed to your soft skin, the quiet laughs and whispers of reassurance filling the entire room, your body almost floating even without his Evol, lifted by the feelings of finally being accepted. Of loving and being loved in return.

“You’re perfect. Perfect for me. I have seen countless sunsets above the clouds, and you are far more beautiful than any of them. Absolutely—” He choked out, his slow thrusts making you see stars, his sculpted body covering yours completely, mindful not to crush you in the process. His movements slightly awkward at times, totally inexperienced but you didn’t mind—it was your first time too, after all.

You had boyfriends before, but the relationships never lasted long. He was the first one you managed to open up to. The first one you were able to trust fully, the only man you ever loved. So how could you ever think of doing it with someone else?

“—magnificent. I can’t believe I get to have you like this… I—Ah—I still think that I must be dreamin’, what if I wake up and you’ll disappear? That’s how it always was. A lucid dream, a cry for even a scrap of—of your attention, and now you’re—” Your hands were gripping his biceps, leaving half moons in the glistening skin. Soft sighs were escaping your lips, along with the tears streaming down your cheeks, whether from the intensity of your feelings or the tight way he fit inside you, you weren’t sure. You closed your eyes and let him press more kisses along your shoulder and neck, cheek and lips, the very same ones to which he continued to speak his praises. “And now you are beneath me, f-fuck—Utterly beautiful. The best thing that ever happen’ to me, I knew that I was doomed ever since I met you—” You moaned his name and he smiled, his lips landing on your wet eyelashes, kissing the tears that had yet to come out. His lips were softer now, entirely covered in your chapstick, tasting of sweet apples and something that you already recognized as undeniably him. There was a hand placed under your back, bringing you even closer to his body, his hips moving more steadily, mouth attacking your breasts, making you shiver in pleasure. His hands were going up and down the sides of your body, a gentle touch, meant to bring comfort.

“Caleb—please. Faster, I can’t, I need—” Your hands went to grab his hair, pulling at the strands, making him moan, his body shaking. He looked at you as with so much adoration you thought you were dreaming.

“Okay, okay—Mmm—I got you. I—I got you, darlin’, I always got you. But if it was up to me I would have you like this the whole night long.” He lifted you up in a way that you were now straddling his thighs and sat down, not stopping his thrusts, his hands resting on your waist. Every single indication of inexperience he made up in passion, desperation and enthusiasm, always putting your pleasure above everything else. You opened your mouth in another gasp, his hips rutting into you without stopping, his arms circled around your body, refusing to let you get away even for a second. Not that you ever wanted to leave the safety of his hold. “I got you, my sweet girl. And will never let you go, never. You’re so adorable, so clever, so so kind and precious, you are—”

“—Annoying and too clingy to be honest. When you get to know her better, that is. Sooo, going after her would be a total waste of time, then.”

A quiet gasp, torn out of you suddenly, violently.

Unexpectedly.

You froze, your heart stopping, along with your hand which was already raised to push open the door to Caleb’s room. His voice, even though muffled by the door, was still perfectly distinguishable to you, having heard it even in your dreams by now.

You only came back for your makeup bag, which you had hastily left at his place this morning, the night after your moment of closeness, having overslept for work. You only managed to kiss his adorable sleeping head goodbye, wear the clothes from the day before and run through his door, smile not coming off of your face the whole day long, despite the slight soreness in your limbs.

It was reminiscent of your night together; that’s why it didn’t bother you. The night that was supposed to change everything for the better, the night that your feelings turned out to be reciprocated.

Or so you thought.

You knew that he was having a boys’ night—he told you during your hangout the day before, how excited he was to finally reunite with some of his college friends, after Gideon managed to get a hold of everyone. But you still hoped to quickly collect your things, maybe steal a small kiss or two.

You just hoped to see him again, even for a moment.

A second, nothing more.

You only wanted to—

“And she’s kinda afraid of flying, sooo not exactly a good girlfriend material for a pilot, guys.” His laugh, although a little nervous, made the crack in your heart spread further. “If she weren’t my lil sister’s friend, I wouldn’t wanna pay her any mind—”

Crash.

Loud and echoing, pierced through the living room where you were standing, your hands shaking. One hand went straight to cover your mouth, which opened in utter disbelief.

At first you thought it was the sound of your heart breaking; exploding into millions and millions of pieces, from the way it squeezed painfully in your chest upon hearing the words undoubtedly coming out of his mouth. You nearly screamed in anguish, the scenes from the night before appearing in your mind, the wonderful things he said to you reverberating inside your ears, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin—his rugged hands so soft, so gentle, the touch loving, worshipping so why—

“Who’s there?” His uncharacteristically harsh voice reached your ears but you had no idea what was happening. You felt as if you were underwater, all sounds quieted down, your body moving in slow motion.

You looked at your feet and saw your makeup scattered before you, the actual source of the crashing sound, coming from the small bottles hitting his apartment floor. Your hands apparently too shaky, too numb to hold the makeup bag after hearing his words. A dagger to your heart would hurt less, you thought, your vision getting blurry, your legs taking a few steps backwards, the movement awkward, your body suddenly too heavy for you to move.

Why did you come back? Why were you here? Why did you need to hear such things coming from the same mouth that had whispered sweet nothings to your ear for hours on end, not even a day before?

You raised your head abruptly, tears staining your cheeks now, when you heard rapid footsteps coming from the other side of the door. The ones you would recognize absolutely everywhere.

You choked down a sob and bolted straight for the door, your shaky hands fumbling with the lock for a second—enough to give him time to process the situation at hand, to connect every single dot, to notice your makeup sprawled on the floor and maybe your pathetic little teardrops lying among it.

That’s what you were. That’s who you made yourself to be. A pathetic little fool, for kissing him, opening up to him, giving so much to him in such a short amount of time when in reality all he thought of you was—

“No. No. Oh, no, no, no, no, fuck, fuck, please, wait, no!” You heard him shouting your name the moment you opened the door and bolted for the elevator. You did not bother closing the door, he already knew that you were there just a second before. He already realized what you heard, even though the true meaning of his words still felt like a fever dream, a nightmare that was unfolding right before you, painful and so, so, unbearably cruel you feared you will pass out the moment your eyes met his face.

You needed to get out of there. You needed to go outside, to breathe, to find the air he stolen from you so suddenly.

Fortunately, the elevator was waiting for you, a spec of light in the darkness of the situation, and you jumped right in, your hand frantically pressing the close button over and over again, even faster now that you heard him running down the hallway to reach you.

Ironically, this time, the luck was on your side.

His shadow was the only thing you could see before the door closed, cutting him off completely. The echoing thump of his fists hitting the surface of it made you flinch.

“No! Fuck! No, no, please!”

Your name reached your ears, desperate, panicked.

But you were already on your way down, tears falling freely, your hands squeezing at your collar, at the material covering your chest, at anything you could reach just to lessen the pain of your heart breaking. Your knees shaky, threatened to give out but you were holding onto the knowledge that he was still following you, and you absolutely couldn’t let him catch you. That’s why, you refused to let yourself break before you were sure that you were somewhere safe.

And it paid off. You miraculously managed to ascape from him, that day.

And many, many days after that.

* 50+ messages from [ ur caleb!<3 ] *

✉︎ please, let me explain myself. I can only imagine what youve heard and I need you to listen to me, please.

✉︎ what I said wasn’t true. everything youve heard was a big fucking lie and I need to tell that to your face, you have to believe me.

✉︎ please don’t do this to me, I know that I deserve it but you have to hear me out, please.

✉︎ answer me.

✉︎ I beg you, give me anything. I need to know youre safe. I can’t locate your phone is it turned off? I don’t know if youre safe. please.

✉︎ its torture. its my fault I need to see you and tell you everything just let me see you. let me find you.

✉︎ I need to find you.

✉︎ I miss you.

✉︎ I need you, don’t leave me in this loneliness any longer, I will do anything. anything to earn your forgiveness, even if i have to work my whole life for it I will, even if you say that you don’t ever want to see me anymore I will stay out of your sight, I just need to tell you the truth, I need to see you and tell you what I really feel, not that awful lie youve heard me saying I wish I could turn back time and scrape these disgusting words out of my mouth.

✉︎ I will do anything for you. I will do anything for only a second of seeing you, I will fulfill your every wish, every desire and unspoken craving just for a second of your time, for a chance to say that I’m sorry.

✉︎ It ruins me, the thought that you may still think that what you heard me saying was true, you are not reading my messages and you probably still think that I meant it. I’m going insane, I’m losing my mind, I need you. I need to see you.

✉︎ I searched for you everywhere and I still haven’t found you, but I won’t stop, I will never stop searching for you even if it kills me, even if you will be the last thing I see, I will find you.

✉︎ baby, please. sweetheart. my treasure. please let me explain myself. where are you? where haven’t I searched yet? how did you manage to escape me?

✉︎ you know me too well, that’s how. you knew where I will be looking for you and you took advantage of that, my smart girl.

✉︎ but this one time, I wish you made a mistake. even a small one, a millisecond long. because I’m waiting and I’m ready to find you. and I will find you. you know me and how stubborn I am. I will never stop looking, you have to come back at some point. and i will get to you before that. I promise. wait for me.

Three weeks have passed since you last saw Caleb—the memory of his betrayal still fresh, and the wounds he inflicted on your heart with his cruel words still open and bleeding.

But the tears were no longer staining your cheeks, and a mere thought of him didn’t make you panic anymore. At least, not when you knew that he wouldn’t be able to find you here.

After you left his apartment that day, you knew that he would search for you, taking into account his desperation to catch you when you were running away. Yet you couldn’t bear to look him in the face, not after what happened between you, and how humiliated he made you feel.

You thought that he felt the same, that maybe he loved you, but it seemed that he was just playing with your feelings. That you must’ve been an easy target. And you just couldn’t believe it, no matter how frequently you repeated the things he said in your mind, both to you during the night and the to his friends during the day. You knew him ever since you were children, his presence constant in your life, even if you were not seeing each other that often after he relocated to Skyhaven. He was always there for you, and for MC, no matter what happened, his care and friendship something you got used to long time ago.

If she weren’t my lil sister’s friend, I wouldn’t wanna pay her any mind.

Was your friendship always only a huge lie? Were you unknowingly only a burden, a nuisance that he had to put up with, because of your friendship with his sister?

And that night, when he was holding you so gently, treating you with such kindness and devotion, whispering the things you dreamed about hearing from him for so long, was it also something he did just because you were easy to manipulate? The easiest choice, a familiar body to satisfy his needs with?

And God, did he know about your true feelings before all of it went down?

You shook your head, trying to stop another train of thoughts, fighting with yourself not to break down in tears again. You came here not only to temporarily run away from him, you also wanted to take your time and relax, to calm the storm brewing inside your head, to survive that heartbreak and breakdown on your own terms, without anyone’s nagging or judgmental stares. Without others telling you what you were supposed to feel.

You fixed your sunhat, the slight wind making your hair gently caress your face, and you went down from the ladder, a basket full of fresh cherries hanging from your arm. You sighed, the fresh air and the smell of fruit filling your nose trills, reminding you that you were far, far away from Skyhaven and Linkon, the places that held too many painful memories.

Here, you were safe, because no one knew about your little, peaceful gateway, which was long ago introduced to you by one of your distant cousins. It was a peaceful little plot of land, belonging to one of your family members, a place they visited occasionally, usually in the summertime. And now, that small house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the trees of fruit, fields of flowers and tranquil atmosphere were exactly what you needed to get back on your feet.

You took a sick leave from work for a whole month, and you were planning to use that time to soften your dark thoughts and harden your skin before the gravity of the situation and its consequences met you upon your return to Linkon. Before you would have to inevitably face Caleb—the one you were trying to avoid at all costs.

“Here you are, auntie.” You approached her crouched figure, her hands paused in their strawberry picking, and she looked up at you with gratitude in her eyes.

“Thank you sweetie, you helped me so much.” She answered and stood up, taking off her gloves and stuffing them into the pocket of her baggy jeans, covered in strawberry juice and grass. A huge smile lit up her face, and you couldn’t help but return one just as bright, shaking your head.

“Oh, please, that’s the least I can do. I should be the one thanking you for letting me stay here.” You fixed your hat once again and went up to a bucket filled with rainwater, so that you could wash the cherries from your skin. “I haven’t known such peace in a long time, really. The air is so refreshing, the scenery so beautiful, and I’m visiting the orchard everyday. I probably ate half of your crops by now, like some kind of a pest.”

“Oh, stop it!” She playfully swatted your butt with a rug, and you giggled, snatching it from her to use it to dry your hands. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Besides, you are a huge help with harvesting fruit each week. I always bring my boy with me, but as you can see, he’s nowhere in sight.” You laughed and picked up the basket with cherries again, as well as the one she was holding before. You peaked inside it and noticed that it was filled with strawberries and raspberries, a perfect amount for a snack. You opened your mouth and let her place one small strawberry inside it, the sweet juice filling your mouth, making you momentarily forget about your worries.

Everything here was just so peaceful and easy.

“It’s that age. He’s more interested in exploring than in sitting around and picking fruit. I was a chaotic kid, too.” You answered and she sighed, your walk to her truck much shorter than you wanted it to be. You placed the baskets inside the vehicle and saw the boy’s hair from where he sat in the passenger seat. You ruffled his hair, and he appeared startled, his hand immediately reaching up to fix it, a blush spreading to the tips of his ears.

“Chaotic and addicted to gaming, that’s what he really is.” She answered as you stepped back from the truck to hug her goodbye. She offered you a ride back to the house but you decided to stay in the orchard. The sun was still far from setting, and you wanted to read under the tress and snack on the fruits for a while longer.

You also remembered to thank her for delivering your letter to MC last week, in which you told her that you were safe, and apologized for not reaching out to her sooner, explaining that you will be back after some time alone. You decided to restrain from mentioning that you had to turn off your phone the moment you escaped from Caleb’s apartment, knowing damn well that if you didn’t, he would be able to track your location without any issue. You knew him and his little tricks like the back of your hand, or at least, that’s what you thought before everything that happened recently.

You were already waving goodbye to them, when it happened.

The boy opened the car door and handed you something, his small hands quick and secretive. Your eyes opened wide, and your smile faltered instantly, recognizing the weight.

“Sorry for taking it, mom never lets me take mine and I get so bored here… But I charged it for you!” He said your name and looked at you apologetically, his round eyes shining excitedly. You gulped, your mouth opening slightly, struggling to find your voice. “You can delete the game now. Oh, and you got a loooot of messages, are you, like, famous?” He asked in a hushed tone, then flinched when the aunt called out to him. He hugged your waist tightly, clearly thankful for your unintentional lending of possession, and went back to the truck, his small hand waving at you through the window until they disappeared from sight, turning onto the main road.

Leaving you by yourself, speechless, your hands full of something you avoided like fire throughout your stay here. The only thing that could betray your location.

A phone.

The one you intentionally turned off and left on the bedside cabinet inside the house.

Your phone.

A device that was Caleb’s only way of tracking you, now lit up after weeks of lying unused, for the purpose of your escape.

“No way, no, no, no, no.” You mumbled, your shaking hands going straight to turn it off, the device turning black again, your panicked gaze staring back at you from its small screen. You closed your eyes and hugged the phone to your chest, praying that it hadn’t been turned long enough for him to track you. For him to notice. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Not now, please. Not yet.”

You weren’t ready to face him yet. You didn’t know if you ever would, but you definitely weren’t ready right this instant, your heartbreak still fresh, your heart too weak to feel this much again.

You looked around slowly, taking in the the sight of the orchard and the endless expanse of the field, calm, steady and sunny, just the way it was during the weeks you’d been here. A gentle wind carried the strands of your hair behind you, the sunhat protecting your head from the light of day. You put the phone slowly inside the pocket of your shorts and began the long path back to the house, your plans of a leisure reading session long forgotten.

It was completely quiet, almost too quiet, but there was no one in sight. You had no idea if he had managed to track your location, or if he was even still looking for you. Maybe he decided to let go, you comforted yourself, even if you knew him well enough to realize how stubborn he could be. You just hoped that maybe if he truly didn’t care for you, he would leave you alone.

The wind intensified, and so did your steps. The house still not yet visible, the long way back made you anxious. You wanted to be inside already, lock yourself up, just in case he really waited for your slip up.

You huffed a small, nervous laugh under your breath the moment you felt the wind biting into the exposed skin of your arms, the temperature dropping, making goosebumps appear on your skin. You bit into your bottom lip and quickened your pace, your heartbeat already pulsing inside your ears, your mind trying to convince you that it was just a coincidence.

But when the wind blew away your hat, you didn’t turn back to fetch it.

Instead, your stride broke into a full-blown run, your legs moving in a panicked frenzy, your hair flying behind you freely. Your lungs and eyes already burned the moment the aircraft appeared in your peripheral vision, its shape and size so unmistakably matching those from the Farspace Fleet that you wanted to laugh at your brain for still hoping is wasn’t.

You heard it now—the deafening roar of it descending onto the field not far from you—and you cursed under your already ragged breath, knowing he must’ve already seen you. There was no one else in sight, after all.

You hadn’t stopped running. The house was twenty minutes away on foot, and if you were fast enough, you could make it before he caught up with you. The plane had already landed, and you didn’t have the courage to look back to see if—

“Hey! Wait!” The shout of your name pierced the wind in your ears, and a weak groan escaped you. He was close, too close if you were able to hear him, his voice bringing back all the memories from that day. Of comforting closeness, then cruel confession said so surely behind your back.

Every single muscle ached, but you didn’t stop running, you couldn’t stop running. The house was already there, peeking from behind the trees, and if only you could reach it in time, you would just lock the doors and regain your false sense of freedom for a while longer.

“Stop runnin’ away from me! Please!”

“Stop—Stop chasing me!” You screamed, the emotions built up inside of you finally having their outlet. “Leave me alone, I don’t—I don’t want to see you, I—I don’t—”

“Just talk to me! Let me explain—” He was getting closer, and your body was growing weaker, your legs moving seemingly only by the sheer force of your will.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” A sob almost escaped your lips, the knowledge and fear that he was this close to you again making panic squeeze at your chest. You were not ready to see him yet, not ready to look at that irritatingly handsome face of his, and hear him lying without batting an eye.

“Baby, please—” Closer. He was so close, just a couple of steps and he wouldn’t have to shout through the wind anymore, but you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

“Oh, fuck you!” You shouted right back, tears already forming in your eyes, your legs burning with extortion. How dare he call you this way, as if there was something between you, as if he cared about what happened, about the kiss, your first night, you. “Don’t call me that, don’t chase me like some kind of an animal—Ah!”

Your run stopped abruptly, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Sweat stuck to your forehead and neck, your limbs tensed, grasping for something, anything, to keep your body from floating up in the air.

Naturally, you failed. His Evol too powerful, holding you gently up in the air, your body too weak to fight back against the invisible force, so you did the only thing you could do at that moment.

You took off your shoe and threw it at him, groaning pathetically when you heard it landing in the grass.

“Let—me—go!” You shouted, your breath heavy after the run, body refusing to calm down. You kept your head turned away from him, unable to look even at his shadow. The knowledge he was this close to you was enough to fill your eyes with tears.

You heard his footsteps close now, his breath heavy. You closed your eyes, tears instead of falling down your cheeks, drifted away from you, the temporary lack of gravity around you taking them away.

First your heart, then your sorrow—what else could he steal away?

You didn’t see how he stood below you, only few steps away, still wearing his Fleet uniform, looking up at your struggling frame with awe and relief. His hand reached out to catch your teardrop with his hand, the sign of your pain staining his fingers now. He brought it to his lips slowly, itching for any part of you, his brows furrowing with anguish.

“I can’t. I let you escape from me once and I won’t make the same mistake again.” His breath was already calming down as he crouched to pick up your shoe, not expecting the other one flying his way, catching it with his Evol right before it hit his head. He scoffed, his laugh sad and full of disbelief, as he let it fall right in front of his face.

“You coming here was a mistake.” He grit his teeth as he heard your poisonous words, spoken in a teary tone. He looked up at you again and his breath hitched. Your drifting body was surrounded by your teardrops, swirling around you and reminding him just how much pain he caused you by his own selfishness. “Me believing in your sugary words was a mistake. Me kissing you was a mistake, God, our whole night together was a—”

“Don’t.” His harsh voice cut through the air, silencing you at once. “Finish that sentence. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Why? You said you wanted to talk so let’s talk.” With your back still turned to him, your hands swatting at your flying teardrops, his audacity to use his Evol on you making you see red. “Let’s talk about how you tricked me. How you made me believe that we were friends, that I could count on you—”

“Please—”

“That I maybe, maybe meant something more to you. Because it turned out that you were feeding me lies for years—”

“That’s not…”

“You—You made me believe you liked me, and then you… You took advantage of—”

“Quiet!” He nearly growled, his harsh voice echoing in your ears, the tone unfamiliar, instantly making you flinch. The Evol with which he held you up faltered, shaking your body, making a quiet squeal come out of your mouth. For a second there, you thought that he will let you fall right into the ground, but the impact never came.

You finally looked at him, scared and stunned by his outburst. He stood there, eyes clouded and distant, arms hanging loosely at his sides— one hand gripping his hat—both of them shaking equally.

And just when you thought you had imagined his expression darkening, you noticed the clouds shifting faster, the sky growing darker.

A thunder stroke in the distance, forcing the hair on your nape stand straight.

“T-That’s how you think you’ll solve this? By force? By scaring me?” Your voice wavered, your fear slipping right through your confident facade. “I—I don’t take orders from you, Colonel. You will not intimidate me into anything. I don’t—I don’t—” More tears floated around you, your vision blurred, fear mixing with the feeling of helplessness.

He whipped his head, finally grasping the reality upon hearing how you addressed him. And when your eyes finally met, both equally red-rimmed, tired and pleading, he felt as if something in him broke.

Because while he was pleading for a chance to be redeemed, you, on the other hand, for him to stay out of your sight.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Please, don’t be scared, I’m—” Another plea, another apology, another way for him to mess with your mind, you thought. And you were scared, tired and hurt, lacking the energy for that conversation. Not knowing how to go about this, not being sure if there was anything that he could say that would fix this.

You were too shaken to listen—let alone react logically. Too unprepared to see his familiar face again so soon, to hear the voice that once offered you refuge for years, but now hurt you more deeply than you ever thought it could. Even the touch of his Evol—once used to help you, to ease your burdens, to cheer you up with his silly little teasing—was now a weapon. A way to trap you. To make you feel small. Helpless beneath the weight of his power.

It was not going well at all, both of you clearly too emotional, incapable of having a normal conversation. You weren’t prepared, but you noticed that he wasn’t either, his mental state unsteady, mind locked on one thing and one thing only—to catch you and never let you out of his sight again.

It was no way of resolving anything. And you really didn’t want to get hurt even more—not by his words, nor by the things you wanted to scream at him, rage tangled with fear, creating a poisonous mix that placed the most hurtful of things at the tip of your tongue.

You didn’t want to use them. Saying them out loud to him would break your heart in the process too.

“Let me go. Please. I’m not ready yet, I—” You closed your eyes, and the first drops of rain fell onto your warm skin. “I don’t want to talk. I can’t talk. Just—let me be. We will have to have this conversation at some point. And I know that. B—But for now just. Please, Caleb.” Your eyes full of tears met his, and he opened his mouth just to close it again, the sight of them rendering him speechless. The pleading, hurt look in them seemed to get him out of the trace. “Let me go.”

His breath hitched when you didn’t break eye contact. There was pain in your eyes, but also unwavering resolve. You kept looking at him with those radiant, exquisite eyes of yours, and that’s when he knew: he had lost this battle.

He slowly lowered you down, holding back tears when you refused to accept his hand to steady yourself. Then he bit his lip, his hands shaking, clenching into fists while he was forced to watch you run from him again, battling his desire to chase after you.

You said that you will have to talk at some point, and he believed you. He took your words and cling to them like a lifeline, a reason for him not to lose his hope. He would be patient, he could be patient, he had already waited for you for so long, he didn’t mind waiting some more. At least now he knew you were safe. Now he could protect you.

And he knew that the war to win you back had only just begun.

The heavy rain spattered against the windows, its sound echoing through the house, easing your shaken nerves and slowly lulling you to sleep.

A lightning struck in the distance, brightening the whole room. You rose quietly, waiting for the sound of thunder. Eyes closed, breathing evened out after what felt like eternity.

More raindrops hit your window, pushed violently by the wind as you stood, wrapping yourself in your huge, knitted cardigan, sinking your cold, shaking fingers into the thick, soft material.

He came here, for you.

A fact that you couldn’t shake for hours now, the weather outside an embodiment of what was happening inside your head. He came for you, the moment he managed to get your location, desperate, oh so desperate to talk, to explain, to repent, and you were left absolutely torn.

Because in your mind, you had already started seeing him as the bad guy, that thought a constant companion through these long weeks, your main coping mechanism. And now? He came here, looking anguished and miserable, his face thin and eyes red—a picture of a man in despair—and he was ready to drop everything just for a second of your time.

Which you didn’t give him. And that’s what kept you awake.

Your hand reached for the light switch but in vain. The storm that had lasted for hours must’ve cut the power some time ago, and you accepted it quickly. Your eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, and you didn’t want to give any sign that you were awake either. You didn’t want to give Caleb false hope, knowing his aircraft still stood on the empty field, exactly where he had landed it hours ago.

You knew he wasn’t asleep either, not if he was as apologetic as he seemed to be. You should’ve listened to him, maybe. And if he hadn’t scared you so much, if he hadn’t used his Evol or raised his voice, maybe you wouldn’t have been so afraid, so defensive. Despite everything he said that fateful night, a large part of you was still curious about what he wanted to say and how he intended to explain himself.

Your deep infatuation with him, your huge soft spot for his expressive puppy eyes, his gentle, playful voice and soft dark hair, were his real weapon. You saw him, looking so devastated and your first thought was to comfort him, despite everything he had done. And you hated yourself for it, hated how much power he held over you unknowingly.

Because was there anything to explain, really? The things he said sounded pretty self-explanatory, and even the simple recollection of them made your heart squeeze painfully.

You knew you’d have to have this conversation sooner or later. He was your best friend’s brother, he used to be your best friend and you had to return to Linkon soon. He would find you then, and the conversation would have to happen either way. So wouldn’t it be easier to just get it over with now and try, slowly, to move on? If moving on from that kind of heartbreak was something you were even capable of.

That was what scared you most about all of this. Caleb had been your friend—the man you loved more fiercely than life itself—and it had taken everything in you just to get out of bed after what you heard from him that day. And now? He had shattered your precious, tranquil solitude so suddenly, and even though you knew that you were supposed to hate him—you should hate him, because that was the easiest way, the only way to survive the heartbreak and reclaim the part of your soul he’d so cruelly taken when he betrayed your trust—You also knew, the moment you saw him running after you like his life depended on it, that what you felt deep inside wasn’t even close to hate.

It was relief.

That he searched for you, after all. A longing, for him to somehow fix this, to tell you that it wasn’t him who said these things despite the fact that it was indisputable, because you would recognize his voice everywhere, even from thousands of miles away you once thought, because of how his timbre made you feel inside. When you saw him, dressed in that stupid, stupid Colonel uniform you felt nothing but love. Love, excruciating love for someone who did not deserve it.

You were stupid, so stupid for being like this, so stupid for still thinking so fondly over the man who lied to you for years, who created a false safe space for you to drown in, who slept with you, even though he thought you were not enough for a wonderful pilot like him.

A sudden crash came from the window downstairs, making you jump in place.

You quickly ran down the stairs, your fingers brushing the wooden railing, your footsteps blending with the sound of falling rain. A cold breeze seeped through the widow, now flung wide open. The wind must have been strong enough to burst it open, and as you rushed to close it, something outside flashed in the corner of your eye.

And your heart almost stopped at the sight.

Your head turned, leaning from the window, the cool droplets hitting your skin harshly, reminding you that you were still awake, and that your eyes didn’t deceive you.

Caleb was sitting right there, on the porch, leaning against the wooden beams, his head hung low, arms crossed on his chest.

And he was soaked to the bone.

Rain dripped from his hat onto his crossed arms, his posture nearly curled in on itself. His body trembled every few seconds from the cold, and the moment you realized he must’ve been standing there ever since you left him—hours ago, just before the storm rolled in—you felt the blood rush into your head.

You left him, but he stayed right there, sitting, waiting patiently for you to come out, not knowing when it will happen. He let you go, but he never left.

“Caleb!” A sudden shout tore from your throat, laced with dread and disbelief, your hands instead of closing the window, reached for one of the blankets lying nearby. “God, Caleb, you—” The front door bursted open and you reached him in no time, falling onto your knees before him, taking off his hat and throwing it to the side in an attempt to wake him.

He wasn’t asleep. Startled, his head shot up the moment he saw you, alarmed by your sudden appearance. His eyes immediately fell to your bare legs, your sleeping shorts far too thin and short to stand against such weather, and he reached for you in a rush of panic.

“What are you—go back inside, you’re goin’ to be sick!” He said alarmed and you scoffed in answer, taking notice of his wet uniform, clinging uncomfortably to his glistening skin. His hair was completely soaked too, streams of rain tracing paths down his temples and nose, the sight making you furious.

“You—absolute—hypocrite!” You barked back, your hands tugging at his wet arms in an attempt to make him stand. You threw the blanket over his head first, his hand grabbing at the material, and then you began pushing him into the house. “I had no idea you—Why did you—?!” He raised quickly, letting you push him past the doorway, and you already felt the cold biting at your skin, the seconds spend outside enough to make you wet.

And he was sitting there for hours.

“I—” He started, but you didn’t let him finish, his posture slightly slumped under the weight of the drenched uniform.

“You—you have a literal plane nearby, why didn’t you hide in there? It’s been raining for hours.” Words escaped you faster than you were able to form them in your head, your hands already working to remove his soaked clothes hastily. He fell completely silent, letting you ease your frustration, his eyes glued to your face. “I thought you were safe in there, I thought you already left, I—I thought—” The heavy material hit the floor with a loud thud, your shaking hands trying to take off the shirt he had underneath, horrified by how cold his skin was underneath your palms.

You bit your lip and sniffed, tears already streaming down your face, whether from the cold piercing at your skin, the thought of him sitting for so long, freezing outside, or from his closeness, which you were deprived of for these weeks, you weren’t able to tell.

You grunted quietly, your fingers slipping from one of the buttons of his shirt, shaking too violently to take it all off. Suddenly, through your blurred vision, you saw his hands reaching for you. You felt their warmth the moment he covered yours, pressing them against his chest. His heart pounded so violently you could feel its rhythm through the wet fabric, sending a shiver down your spine.

A broken sob escaped you, the weight of reality pressing you down hard. His hands stroked your trembling arms, trying to soothe you; but it wasn’t working. The stings or remorse cut through you one by one, haunted by the image of him sitting there, drenched, and cold, and shaking—

“I didn’t want you to—to—I had no idea you were there this whole time, I thought you left t—to sit in your—” Another sob came out stifled, because he brought you in for a hug; his hard, wet chest strangely warm and comforting. You didn’t return the embrace, but stayed there, sobbing quietly, letting him drape the blanket over you both, the material somehow still dry enough to bring comfort.

“Shh… Easy. Don’t cry, okay? It was my decision to stay there.” His soft voice reached you, and another sob came out, this time right into the shirt still clinging to his chest. “I had to stay there. I couldn’t leave you again. I didn’t want to leave you. I’m sorry.” He leaned down and rested his chin hesitantly on top of your head, bringing you even closer to himself. He released a long, heavy sigh, followed by a whisper of your name and another apology.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered right next to your ear, and you trembled in his strong arms.

“I’m sorry.” His hold tightening, and you hated how good it felt to have him this close again.

“I’m sorry.” His words no longer held just one meaning, and you shook your head as best you could, restrained by his tight embrace. Yet you stayed, your eyes closing, heart heavy with the knowledge that you were too weak to run away from him anymore.

The sound of the rain intensified, a thunderstorm still raging outside, and you both stayed close, Caleb cradling you to his chest, swaying gently side to side, almost lulling you to sleep. You took a deep breath, the scent of rain and him washing over you, and realized that you were ready to at least hear him out.

After you both calmed down your breaths and beating hearts, and after your bodies started warming up again, that is.

Because how can someone so warm have bad intentions? The feelings inside you were messing with your head again, and you let them, hoping you won’t regret making that decision.

Wishing, that this love won’t bring you to ruin.

The kettle began to whistle the exact moment he stepped out of the bathroom, candlelight casting his shadow across the room. Every movement danced on the walls, creating the illusion of him surrounding you from all sides. Ironic, because that’s exactly how you felt ever since you let him back in. Your body cautious not to relax in his presence, caged by the unfamiliar weight of broken trust.

You bit your lip and began pouring hot water over the tea, waiting for the pleasant scent to reach you, hoping that it will calm your racing heart—if only for a second. Its rapid beating didn’t slow down since you brought him in here willingly—the very man you’d successfully avoided for a whole month, dreading your next encounter, having no idea how you should act upon seeing him again.

And now there he was—standing behind you nervously, thinking so loudly you were almost able to hear it. Yet you stayed silent, believing that you had every right to. The awkwardness in the air wasn’t your fault, after all.

Letting him inside, not being able to stand the thought of him sitting out there in the storm—that was your doing. And you hated yourself for how easily you let your guard down, and for failing to hide the pathetic trace of love you still carried for him, even after he hurt you so deeply.

Your first encounter several hours ago didn’t exactly end in the way you wanted it to: him using his Evol on you and you breaking down in tears could hardly be considered a peaceful reunion. You were both not ready to talk yet, too shaken by being in each other’s presence after all this time. You, stubborn in your hatred. He, desperate and unraveling at the thought of loosing you again. An explosive combination, a disaster waiting to happen.

So you ran, as fast as you could from him.

And now, because you couldn’t stay indifferent to his discomfort, you had nowhere to hide.

“The clothes fit. They’re even a bit loose.” Caleb’s light tone finally broke the silence, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed his stress. He was as nervous as you were. “Phew, I’m lucky your uncle isn’t here today, he would totally take me in a fight. To him I would probably look like… a walkin’… A walking stick.” Voice grew quieter with every word he spoke, and once he noticed he was rambling, he clamped his mouth shut, cussing internally.

He had always made a fool of himself when you were near, ever since the day he met you, all those years ago. Even just the sight of your turned back, the knowledge you were listening, made his head heavy with the need to impress you, and now, to make things right. He was terrified that at any moment you might lock yourself away in one of the rooms, somewhere he couldn’t reach you again—and he had no idea how he’d handle it if that happened.

Suddenly, you turned to him, your eyes glued to the mugs of tea you were holding. You placed them carefully on the table in front of you—the only piece of furniture that provided a bit of a distance you so desperately craved to have. From the corner of your eye you noticed he wasn’t exaggerating—the black sweatpants and a white shirt seemed to be a bit loose, and you realized that his homely appearance actually made you feel a bit more at ease. Now, without his Colonel uniform to hide behind, he seemed more approachable, if not more lost.

The air of authority vanished the moment his wet suit hit the floor, leaving only an uncertain man in its wake, one who knew he’d been walking on thin ice the moment you let him into your space again.

And you just couldn’t bring yourself to make him feel more welcome—the words he said still ringing in your ears, despite the time you spend to forget about them entirely.

“Thanks for letting me stay here. And for the clothes.” He was still standing in the same spot and you still refused to meet his eyes. Your hands grabbed one of the mugs and you started blowing air to cool your tea down, thankful for that little distraction, for something warm to hold when your heart was freezing cold. “And I wasn’t sitting there to make you pity me. If you were wondering. I wasn’t tryin’ to manipulate you into anything, I just—”

“I know.” Your voice rusty from the uncontrollable sobbing from before, hands gripping the mug harder. The light from the candles was too low for you to see your reflection on the surface of the drink. Maybe it was for the best, you must’ve looked like a trembling mess, eyes puffy and lips bitten red, still shaken by the storm of emotions that had torn through you during the day. “That, I know.”

You slowly sat on the nearest stool while he processed the meaning behind your words, still standing motionless few steps before you. You took a sip—and the warmth of the drink did nothing to soothe your nerves.

So, you waited. For something. Anything. Feeling his intense gaze on your frame, almost drilling a hole in your head, a silent prayer for you to look back at him.

You couldn’t, and that broke him all over again.

“You run away from me.” His voice trembled and your hands grabbed the mug tighter, the rain outside intensifying—or maybe you just became aware of its sound again. “I’ve searched for you everywhere. Every day. And I was loosing my mind every minute I couldn’t see you.”

“Did you?” You couldn’t help the venom spilling out of you, the tone mocking if it wasn’t so weak. “Why? Because of guilt? Pity? Out of obligation for—”

“Guilt? Pity? Is that what you think?” He took a step forward, and you didn’t move, head held high, still not meeting his eyes. “Everything I did for you, everything I ever said to you was out of—Shit—” His hands ruffled his hair, tugging at the strands. A pause, heavy, followed by a thunder, and then—“Out of love!” The last word nearly a growl, ripped out of him suddenly, as if holding it inside brought him pain.

You froze.

A thunder roared in the distance.

And the tears filled your vision once more.

You stood abruptly, putting down the cup on the table with a loud thud, its contents spilling out, nearly burning your head. His voice calm and sure now, so sure it almost made you choke.

“Out of overwhelming love, that I have felt for you for as long as I can remember—”

“Stop.” You choked out, your head dizzy, hands shaking in fury. What was he saying? What was he even—

“—Out of desperation to make things right, because I couldn’t bear the thought of you sitting somewhere alone, and hurting because of me, the things I said, the things I fuckin’ despise myself for—” He heard you, so he spoke much quicker, words spilling one after the other, hurting you more than you could imagine. He was getting closer to you, and you flinched, one leg already taking a step back.

He wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. If he were, he wouldn’t have said those things, especially not after he got to have you. It wasn’t what you were prepared to hear, he was surely just messing with—

“Caleb, please.” Not more than a whisper, a calm before the storm, your head shaking, legs feeling weak.

“I lied. I lied that day and you need to believe me. I lied because I was a coward, and I didn’t know what to do, I panicked and I lied, because I love you, and they—”

“No, please, stop, I—I can’t listen to this, it was a bad idea, I—” With tears in your eyes you turned away and passed Caleb quickly, wanting to go back upstairs and hide: hide from his lies, from the hurt of his sudden confession, and from the way his voice sounded, so anguished and outright mad.

He didn’t love you, he couldn’t love you, because if he did he would’ve told you that night, when he held you so close and whispered broken praises into your ear. He would’ve said it then, not now, when you’d already made up your mind to cut him off, to forget the warmth of his body and the cold sting of the words you overheard.

You expected an apology, not a confession, which made and your whole facade crumble with his every word.

“No! Please—” He grabbed your hand, his touch frantic and secure, the contact and the memories it reignited made you gasp. And before you could realize what was happening, he fell down on his knees in front of you, his hands grabbing your arms, the hold strong but gentle, meant to slow you down, rather than cage.

You looked at the bare skin of his back, sticking out of the shirt, speckled with faint freckles, and noticed he looked thinner than you last saw him. Then your eyes landed on his dark hair, falling into his face freely, strands damp after the shower, but still looking so unbelievably soft.

“Please, I’m not lying, I’m—You have to believe me. You have to—Fuck—”

You eyes met and the time seemed to slow down.

Because you saw his beautiful, violet orbs, that always made you feel as if you were looking at the eight wonder of the world, flooded with tears for the very first time in your life.

His lips were trembling and you noticed how chapped they were, his teeth biting into them to stop himself from sobbing. You could hear the humming of your heart in your ears, your whole body shocked to stillness.

He looked absolutely torn.

And you couldn’t look away; your eyes traced the path of the first tear that slipped out of his eye, down to his chin, landing in front of your bare feet.

Like an offering. A statement. The last prayer of a man who lost hope.

“I’m not—I’m not lying to you. You have to believe me, please, please.” Tears. One after the other, tracing paths on his flushed cheeks, eyes burning with sincerity, lashes wet and shiny.

You nodded slowly, a lump forming in your throat, eyes filling with tears upon the sight, but you were trying so hard to keep them at bay.

And after a sniffle, he continued, warm hands stroking your shaking arms, eyes glued to yours like a lifeline.

“I lied that day. Everything I said was a fucking lie, okay? A big, pathetic lie to save my skin, to buy me more time. I said the first things that came into my mind—”

“But I heard you, Caleb.” You cut him off, your brows furrowing, unable to contain your confusion. “I heard you. If you really didn’t mean it how could you sound so sure? You said these things without even a single thought, and you expect me to—”

“I didn’t have to think! I just twisted—I think I just twisted the truth—”

“Wow. T—That’s low Caleb. That’s really, really low—” And when you started to back out from his hold he grabbed you harder, his arms going to circle around your waist, his face pushing into your stomach. You gasped and before you managed to push him away, his next words made you stop.

“No! Wait, shit, that’s not what I meant. Don’t go.” A sob escaped his lips and you took a deep breath, your hand almost reaching to caress his head. You’ve never seen him so broken and the need to comfort him was overwhelming. The sight of his tears excruciating. “I said you were clingy and you are—” Another sharp tug, but he refused to let you go. “You are. You are clingy and that’s okay, that perfectly fine, that’s perfect. And I love that about you. Every time you were holding my sister’s hand, I wished, God—How I wished you would hold mine instead. I wished, I prayed you would cling to me instead. Just as much as I wanted to cling to you.” He raised his head and you saw that he was telling the truth in the way his eyes gleamed, and his cheeks burned red, body trembling against yours.

And you felt your legs nearly bucking under your weight, his words making your head spin, not knowing whether you should stay offended or let him take your breath away once more.

“But—but what about me being annoying? You said—”

“You loved to push my buttons ever since we were kids, you are trying to annoy me all the time, just how I try to annoy you back. But for me, every jab, every joke, it was always to catch your attention. A pitiful attempt for you to just look at me, even for a fleeting second. And it worked—MC always called us annoying because of it, remember? That’s why it came to me so quickly. That’s the only reason I said it so surely.”

He was talking so fast he nearly lost his breath, his chest heaving against you, arms still holding you close to his chest. You took a deep breath and wanted to think, to have a second to process it, the burn in your cheeks intensifying, his words actually starting to make sense, because of your usual dynamic.

But it wasn’t all. It wasn’t what hurt you the most.

“You told them about my fear.” Caleb’s huge, red-rimmed eyes never left yours, and you fought with yourself not to fix the strands of hair that were slightly blocking his vision. His lips formed a straight line and turned slightly downwards, making him look like a kicked puppy. And you felt your anger slowly slipping, hope filling the hole in your heart. “And you listed it as my fault. You took my biggest fear and embarrassed me for it, made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I didn’t even—I didn’t even know you noticed how scared I was when—”

“I did. I notice everything about you. Of course I noticed.” His strong hands hugged you tighter, and a single tear slipped out of your eye. He was still kneeling before you, showing no signs of raising. “Just how I noticed that it didn’t keep you from visiting me at my place, even though the stillness of the clouds terrified you to the point of loosing sleep. But it’s okay. It doesn’t change a single thing for me. I only dreamed of showin’ you the view from the clouds, I hoped that I would take you up there with me one day, to show you that it doesn’t have to be scary. That it’s actually beautiful, and freeing, and calm up there. Cause I would protect you, always. And if you didn’t change your mind it would be fine—It would always be fine. I would just share with you the stories ‘bout the things I saw. And I would be the happiest to do it.” His shaking hands reached to touch your face and wiped the tears from your cheeks, ones that you had no idea you even shed. “I never thought about it as your flaw. Never. For me, you are nothing but a wonder.”

His touch was feather-light and comforting, his hands warm and so painstakingly familiar, bringing you back to the night that changed everything. How he held you back then, as if you were something fragile, something precious.

A wonder.

A sob tore through your body and he shook his head, hushing you quietly, his hands taking a hold of yours, bringing them to his lips, pressing a kiss to every single one of your knuckles.

“Then, why? Why did you list it as one? I just—I just don’t understand why, Caleb.” You cried out, one of your hands leaving his to cover your face from him. The past month of running away flashed before your eyes, making you even more tired. And although you wanted nothing more than to believe him and let yourself be held, he still didn’t give you the reason for saying such things. “Why did you even say that? If you lied, why did you do that? Why, Caleb, why did I have to hear—?”

You were crying again, and Caleb looked at you from his knees in panic, his hands caressing your arms, spine straightening so that his head could rest against your chest. The way he hugged you so tenderly made you want to hug him back, your head fighting with your heart. Yet he still didn’t give you all the answers, no matter how better the situation seemed now. You still had doubts about believing him at all.

There was a beat, or two, and he let out a deep sigh, hands gripping you tighter.

You sniffled, the word around going completely quiet, just to be disturbed by his quiet groan.

“I’m even—I’m even embarrassed to say.” He stood up slowly, and you gulped, his size all-consuming, making him be the only thing you could see. You took a careful step back, and he took one of your hands in his hesitantly. From this position he was too stressed to hug you, opting for less intense contact, especially when your hand was still limp in his, not reciprocating the hold. He scratched at his neck, his eyes meeting yours, an anticipation visible on your features. “And I know that won’t make the situation better.”

“Caleb—”

“Yes. Yes, I know—They—” A squeeze of your hand, the orange spark in his eyes shining beautifully, making your breath hitch. His hand went up to gently touch your face, fingers tracing patterns along your cheek. “They started talkin’ bout girls that day. The boys, my friends from college.” His brows furrowed, eyes looking at your face as if searching for something there. You listened patiently, his earlier words still ringing inside your head, the gravity of them almost crushing you. “Asked me if I knew someone they could go out with. I said ‘no’. They didn’t believe me, though.” His eyes narrowed, chin went down slightly in annoyance while recollecting the conversation. “They started teasing me about MC first. Asking if I would like to have a brother, too. But then one of them mentioned you.” His eyes darkened, the hand on your cheek stopped its caress. “Said he liked you. And that he already had your number. He was pretty confident, said something ‘bout you two having a connection. He said he talked with you that one time you and MC were visitin’ me in my dorm, and I—I started sweating right then and there.”

Your frown deepened but you already knew where this was going. You closed your eyes and swore under your breath, one hand covered your mouth in shock. You couldn’t even remember the guy.

“And—And we just slept together that night, and I finally got to hold you, caress you, kiss you—I was on cloud nine. Wasn’t thinking clearly. And I wanted to tell him about us, that you were mine, but I realized that we haven’t talked about it. And you weren’t there when I woke up—”

“Caleb, I overslept for work, I had to leave quickly—”

“I’m so, so sorry, but I wasn’t sure. I haven’t confessed to you either, I was just too—too overwhelmed, I felt too much, I thought too much and I realized that I couldn’t tell them you’re mine because you weren’t. Not yet.” You bit your lip and looked at him in disbelief, his face getting closer. He put a strand of your hair behind your ear, and his jaw tightened. “And when he asked me what I thought ’bout you I couldn’t tell him the truth. If he knew what I felt he wouldn’t let you go. They wouldn’t let you go, it would only make them want you more.”

You felt your hands shaking, your mouth opening and closing, not knowing what to say. His hands were still holding yours, feeling the tremble, caressing them with his thumbs in an attempt to bring you comfort.

“But you knew that what happened between us wasn’t a one time thing. You knew how I felt about you, and if you felt the same why didn’t you just—”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d pick me, if you had a different choice. And at that moment, I wanted to make sure you would. That they wouldn’t take you away from me. And that they would never want to again.” His hands cupped your cheeks, and you felt how rough and warm they were, your hands immediately going to hold at his wrists. He closed his eyes for a moment and you couldn’t believe what he was saying.

It was all a misunderstanding. And all of this happened because he was jealous? He hurt you so much just because he didn’t want others to reach out to you?

“So you had to say all these things about me? And that was supposed to be a better alternative than lying about us being together? Caleb, it really doesn’t sound—” You pushed his arms away, legs taking you further away from him, craving some space to think things through, but he followed suit, hands already reaching for you again.

“I panicked. I’m so, so, so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know where we stood, and I had no idea if that would make a difference for them. I had to say something to discourage them. So I did.” His hands went to tug at his hair and now he was the one who took a step back, breathing louder, obviously distressed. “And I hated myself for it. It felt so wrong the moment it came out of my mouth and I wasn’t even sure if they even believed me. And then I heard you. Fuck, when I heard you—”

A loud crash, making every single doubtful look from the boys leave Caleb’s face. Grateful for a distraction, his head heavy, heart burning with the weight of his lies. But when he opened the door and noticed your makeup scattered across the floor, his heart sank to his stomach. A wave of terror froze his body for a short while, until he heard you fumbling with the front door.

He didn’t even think about using his Evol, your beautiful frame running away from him enough to make him panic, the things he said hanging above his head, the knowledge that you had heard them becoming his worst nightmare.

And later, when he returned to his empty apartment after hours spend searching for you, calling you in hope you’d pick up, even by accident—he finally broke down. He screamed, throwing his phone against the wall, making it shatter. His Evol spiraled out of control, shifting the furniture, crashing the plates, the entire place left looking as if it had been broken into.

He lost you on the day he finally got to have you. And ever since that day, he hadn’t known peace, until your phone lit up again, a single red dot glowing on his device, revealing your location.

He left the Fleet right then and there in the middle of the meeting, everything else forgotten. Every duty postponed, every shout of his name ignored.

There wasn’t anything more important than you.

And now you were standing before him, as beautiful as the day he lost you, with tears in your eyes and your heart no longer open for him to take solace in. The eyes which used to look at him with mirth and affection—now uncertain, scared of him hurting you again.

And he felt that he was at his limit—one more second away from you and he thought he’ll burst into flames, the intensity of his feelings will turn him to ashes.

So, he begged.

“I’m so sorry. Please. Believe me. Take me back. Give me one more chance. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I swear I will never to it again, as long as I live.” You flinched when he fell onto his knees again, your arms trying to catch him before his knees hit the floor, but it was useless, his body too heavy for you to hold.

“Caleb! Caleb, stop doing that—” You grabbed his arm in an attempt to pick him up, but he was too strong, his bicep not even tightening. Goosebumps appeared on his skin under your palms and his head fell onto your arm pathetically.

And you just couldn’t look at him when he acted this way, your anger dissipating, the situation although still not ideal—him lying, then saying such things behind your back, whether he meant them or not, wasn’t something you could forgive him after one conversation.

Yet you couldn’t bear to look at him like that—on his knees, begging for forgiveness, crying and shaking, words slipping uncontrollably from his lips. In all the years you’d known him, this was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him—and the sight made your eyes sting. The image of the man you loved—once an unshakable, controlled pillar of strength—reduced to a broken mess before you.

You now knew why he did it. And that he didn’t mean it, not in the way you thought he did.

And you understood the jealousy, the anger, and the selfishness, because you had times you felt such way about him too. The image of him with another making you nauseous, the possibility of him loving someone else like a dagger cutting through your chest.

You took a deep breath, and glanced at him again. His shaking back, hands clinging to your body in an attempt to keep you close.

And you had made your decision.

“Oh, Caleb…”

To believe him.

“Caleb, please stand up!”

To build your relationship back up again, no matter how long i’ll take. And you just hoped you were making the right one.

“N—No, you have to understand. Please. I love you. I’m sorry. And I’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness, no matter how long it takes.” He breathed into your arm, his face snuggling into it, his head slowly rising, eyes meeting yours.

And you gasped at the anguish displayed all over his pretty eyes, two eternal sunsets clouded with misery.

“I love you. So much. I am in love with you, and I’ll do anything to prove it, I’ll spend my whole life trying to make it up to you. You want me to give you more space? I’ll do that. I will try to do that. You want me to leave the Fleet? Just say a word. I will. I will follow you to the end of space and time. You like it here? I can build you the exact same house with my own hands, brick after brick, and it would be the most beautiful, peaceful of places, you own private sanctuary. I will—”

Your knees hit the floor, joining him and you grabbed his wet cheeks in your hands, yanking his head down to meet your lips, effectively shutting him up.

And he melted.

Putty in your hands, leaning into your touch instantly, his chapped lips warm against yours, his soft sigh vibrating between your mouths. And when you broke the kiss and met his sparkling eyes, round with surprise and hope, you send him a small smile, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

You wouldn’t let them. Not anymore. Not when for the first time in weeks you finally believed that you will be okay.

It was all a huge misunderstanding. A big mistake, fueled by insecurities, secrets kept for far too long, his desperation to keep you near, no matter the means. When he spoke so rapidly, afraid you’ll leave him again, you realized that wanting to keep you to himself might have been one of the few times in his life he had ever done something purely for himself—even if his methods were far from right.

You could see now, that behind his thick skin, and the air of countless of responsibilities, he was still just a boy that had to grow up too quickly. For MC. For you. For all of you to live as comfortably as you could, the burden of all your issues and failures always spoken to him, knowing that he will be able to help and find a solution for all of them.

And yet, he never confessed when something bothered him, his feelings and desires always bottled up inside, kept hidden and threatened to spill when it got too much for him to handle.

And that one time, when faced with the threat of someone taking you away from him, the threat of loosing you, the one he loved, he acted on instinct. He chose the option that wasn’t fair, and certainly wasn’t healthy, but he truly believed it could work to keep you beside him for a while longer.

He wasn’t used to being selfish, so he had no idea how to start, and how to do it right.

He looked down at you through half-closed eyes, taking you in and memorizing your small smile—one he felt he hadn’t seen in ages. Then he dove in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around your frame, pulling you tightly to his chest. He couldn’t believe that you kissed him, his brows furrowing, wanting to make this moment last forever.

And you reciprocated every single one of his hasty kisses, your head finally freed from the questions that dragged you down.

You will work this out. You will fix this, together. And you will make sure he’ll know how you feel, so that he could finally realize that he doesn’t have to fight dirty battles just to keep you close. Because you would never want anyone else who wasn’t him.

“Caleb-mmmh. Caleb, oh God, wait.” He reluctantly let your lips go, your lungs filling with a deep breath, and you hugged him around his waist, feeling the fast beating of his heart under your ear. He placed his shaking hand on your head, stroking your hair, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

“Sorry, can’t stop. Come back here, you kissed me first.” And he took your cheeks in his palms and dived in, wanting to capture your lips in his again, but you blocked his mouth with your hand, making him frown.

You giggled softly, eyes still teary, making his eyes sparkle—mesmerized by the happiness finally breaking through the walls you’d build around yourself over the past month. He kissed your fingers once, twice, his arms resting at your waist as he lost himself in the warmth of your body, and the pleasant fragrance of your skin.

He felt as though he had returned to where he truly belonged. He had finally come home.

You opened your mouth, your cheeks flushed and eyes sincere, and nothing could prepare him for what you said next, your tone soft, slightly unsure, a melody only for him to hear.

“I believe you, Caleb. But you hurt me that day so badly, I thought I would never get over that heartbreak. I thought I lost you, my best friend, the only boy I ever cared so deeply for. I thought you really hated me all this time. And I couldn’t face it, couldn’t even think about it, that’s why I fled.” He nodded quickly, eyes holding so much hurt and regret. You slid one of your hands into his hair, stroking the soft strands gently. And thats when you both sat down on the warm floor, bodies relaxing, hearts slowing down. “But it’s okay. I understand you now. And I’m sorry too, for not letting you explain yourself sooner. I was just so focused on trying to hate you to somehow cope with what I’ve heard—”

“Stop, it’s my fault, don’t—”

“I shouldn’t have run away. I should’ve faced you, even if I was scared of what I’ll learn. But it will take some time for me to forget about it, okay? It really—It really messed me up. The thought you put up with me only because it was convenient.” You bit your lip and he groaned softly, his head lowering, a symphony of apologies falling from his lips once again. You hushed him gently, taking his cheeks in your hands and wiping away the wet trails of his tears. He sniffed quietly, making your heart squeeze. “But it will be okay. Because I believe you. So you don’t have to be scared anymore, I won’t run away again.” His body shook as he kept nodding, biting at his lips, trying so hard not to interrupt you. You leaned over him again, the movement slow, and you looked deep into his eyes, silently asking for permission. Once his eyelashes fluttered, eyes looking at your lips expectantly, you placed a soft kiss on his swollen ones, red from his constant biting, still salty from the tears he shed. “And you have to promise to be honest with me. No more tricks. No more lies.”

“I promise.” Your name escaped his lips like a prayer. “I promise. I will never hurt you again, I swear. I promise. I love you more than you could ever realize.”

He groaned into another kiss, a quiet “mmm” followed by the touch of his hands on your cheeks. He brought you to himself closer, one kiss turning into three, four, five and still counting, yet all of them gentle and reassuring, meant to anchor, not escalate. One of his hands landed on your hip and tugged, touch meaningful—he wanted for you to sit in his lap, and although you were still shaken, you craved the closeness as much as he did.

You climbed onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing at your lower lip.

You let him in, slowly, unhurriedly, your ears catching the sound of the falling rain, the storm coming back with the same intensity as before—but this time, it didn’t feel like a bad omen anymore.

You parted with a quiet pop, Caleb’s head instinctively following yours, unwilling to let the distance linger. His large hands caressed your arms and thighs, his expression love-drunk, looking as if he couldn’t believe you were really here with him again.

His eyes met with yours and you swiped the pads of your fingers below his under eyes, tracing the faint freckles.

A whistle of the wind, a spatter of rain against the window, the sound of your beating hearts, and then—

“I love you too, Caleb.” His breath hitched, hands clenching on the material on your shirt, eyes big and shining with disbelief. “I love you. So much. You’re the only boy I’ve ever loved.” His eyes closed and he rested his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching in a gesture so gentle your eyes stung.

“Again. Repeat that for me.” He whispered in awe, and you obeyed, another confession spoken into the night. One of the candles burned out, marking the end of a chapter, and, hopefully, the end of your separation. “Hmm, again.” He probed and you did, watching as a soft smile spread on his lips, his thumbs swiping circles into the exposed skin of your thighs. “Wanna hear it again.” Caleb’s voice unbearably soft, his touches even more so, and you put your hands on both sides of his neck, putting more distance between you. “And again. And again. I never want you to stop saying it.”

He opened his eyes and studied your face, eyes closing when you pressed a lingering kiss on one of his eyelids, his breath shaky, hands warm against your skin.

“I love you. Have been for so long I lost count ages ago.” His lips formed a line, happiness squeezing at his chest, and he nodded once, eyes opening slowly to bore into yours and don’t stray.

“Ages?” He repeated, partly mimicking your words from weeks ago, but still visibly shaken, chest filling with the warm ache of being accepted. Of loving, and being loved in return.

He cursed himself internally, eyes nearly filling with tears, dread rising in his chest at the thought that he had almost lost you, because of his selfishness and insecurities.

You kissed his lips again and he almost sobbed right into yours, his head falling onto your shoulder, kissing the soft skin, feeling the way in which it warmed up under the contact. He hugged you to his chest, kissing your neck, wanting to be even closer, to get under your skin, to merge with you for evermore and never let go.

“Ages.” Your answer sure and final, your arms returning his embrace, hands tracing patterns into the skin of his strong back. His necklace rested right next to your heart, where it should always be.

You began to hum a lullaby,letting your soft voice replace the harsh sounds of the rain and thunder. The melody drifted through the house, seeping into the walls, and into Caleb’s memory.

And when he whispered more confessions, his lips marking your skin with them, you exhaled a long, steady sigh, marking the end of this cruel storm.

And later, as you fell asleep in a tight embrace, listening to each other’s heartbeats and imagining the life ahead of you, neither of you noticed the objects gently floating around the room—silent signs of Caleb’s excitement. The heavy stone of guilt had finally lifted from his chest. He had won you back, and he wasn’t going to let you get hurt again—not by him, not by anyone else. He swore to protect you, and he would keep that promise for as long as he lived.

And if the sound of plant pots shattering, books tumbling, and your things scattering around woke you up from your slumber hours later, his puppy eyes, a kiss to your cheek and a promise of a breakfast in bed was enough to make you melt. You could always clean it up later.

This time, together.

*bonus!*

3 years later

* 15+ unread messages from [ my miss hunter!<3 ]*

✉︎ hii babey, why is caleb being so weird today??? he literally called me earlier, asked me to freaking pray for him and hung up on me that menace.

✉︎ did u like fight or smth? u never fight what did he do this time

✉︎ the last time he acted so weird was when he ate his bday cake day early cause he didn’t realize what it was for, remember that? what do u see in him i cant quite understand we’re like, losers trapped in hot bodies istg

✉︎ wait he just send me a pic

✉︎ OH MY GODDDSSG???? BABY CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! THIS SECRETIVE LITTLE SHInzsn

✉︎ you look so happy in that picture!! im literally bawling, the ring’s so pretty and you both look gorgeous. im so so so happy for you (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)♡ ♡ ♡ i love you guys sm please INVITE ME TO THE WEDDING IN CASE CALEB FORGETS TO TELL HIS SIS SOMETHING THIS IMPORTANT AGAIN

✉︎ im so happy for you, can’t stop looking at ur lil happy faces. U both deserve the world. NEXT UP!! picking a wedding dress!!!!! Im already on it, you’ll look like a PRINCESS!!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ gorgeous little b caleb’s a lucky maaaaan

✉︎ call me when you’re done with kissing!! or u know, other stuff. u guys can be pretty gross.

✉︎ i love you. both. can’t wait for the wedding!!!!!! AHH!!!

thank u for reading!! 🤍 if u managed to that one’s LONG. I hope it was worth ur time 🥺

if u want to support me, u can do it here!!: https://ko-fi.com/kitimeq

every like, comment and reblog would mean the world to me 🤍

[quill-for-glory]

This is for LADS Caleb x Non-MC!Reader lovers who wants some serious angst but still a happy ending out there!

Highly recommended! 🥰👍

[roxynani9292]

Sylus × minions 🐦‍⬛🤖

[quill-for-glory]

Somebody pls make a crack fic about this

😂😂🤣🤣🤣

[sevgilimsatoru]

Error 410: (Self aware!AU, Caleb Edition) Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N Spin off Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader. Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, Stressedout!reader. Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog Word count: 1k *"when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you"* *- Friedrich Nietzsche.*

You've heard that quote.., maybe even read it somewhere before but it didn't matter, not when your eyes were starting to ache, a slight burning sensation pulsing behind your eyelids. The only thing staring back at you were the questions in your assignment. The heels of your palm digging into your eyes, rubbing them, trying to drown out the sensation. You had work to do, upcoming tests countless assignments, projects- the dates and deadlines were already starting to blur. Maybe you should sleep. Take a little break, it wouldn't hurt to rest... The sickening feeling of guilt and shame in your gut was going to stay there- despite the efforts to try and study a little more.

It was your fault, really. You didn't do the things you should've on time, procrastinating and postponing work when you shouldn't have. Unfortunately, time never waits for anyone. A click of the power button broke the silence surrounding your room, closing your laptop. You stood up from your desk, stretching your arms over your head, the sound of bones cracking filling your ears. Slumping down on the bed felt much better- the cold sheets against your heated skin felt good, relaxing even. Your tongue darting out to lick your lips, feeling the chapped skin and the stinging sensation sparking up when the fleshy organ touched a small cut on your lip, caused by the frequent biting and pulling of the skin on your lips. A sigh left your lips, swallowing the dryness in the back of your throat. You felt thirsty, your throat felt dry.. empty but not enough to burn and that was reason enough for your mind to stop you from getting up, along with the effort it was going to take to just get yourself a glass of water. Laying against the cold sheets, your mind wandered thinking about something that might get you to sleep. Sleep was slowly becoming a foreign concept- something that happened few and far in between. Your college studies wasn't making it any better- Doing a degree in law along with criminology honors. You really were crazy to have chosen these subjects but your curiosity often went against your decisions. The need to understand and learn more about the few things that you were interested in. There was only silence surrounding you, until a small **ping!** vibrated through the room and in your ears, looking down at your phone to see a message from the game you spent so much of your time on; Love and Deep space and of course, your precious love interest, Caleb. It was almost insane how your eyes lit up when the loading screen of the game showed up. That pretty boy sitting quietly on the leather chair, asleep. A small poke on his cheek was enough for him to let out the usual autogenerated response you always heard. He was so cute, so pretty, so.. human. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much. Over every other love interest, he just felt like a person. A person you could understand- a person you could relate to. You understood why he did the things he did.

Tapping on the small chat button, Caleb was standing there- looking at you. Interacting with him was comforting in a sense. His little teasing yet sincere comments were enough to make your heart stutter. It had became routine by now, doing the daily tasks- getting gems, playing on the claw machine and the kitty cards. Yeah, maybe the kitty cards would be a good idea today. You still had one kitty card attempt left this week. Playing kitty cards with Caleb was fun to say the atleast. It was annoying how good he was at that game. You could never get three wins in a row, sometimes it made you want to punch him through the screen, affectionately of course. Just when you thought you were going to win, all it took was two cards for the whole game to be flipped in his favor. It was so frustrating. "If you keep winning, I'm not going to play with you.." You muttered to yourself, maybe you should stop talking to yourself when no one was going to reply back. "Maybe you should stop and take care of yourself if you can't even focus on the game," Caleb replied in that small text box. That was new, you hadn't seen a reply like that before.. Now that you think about it, did your MC even say anything for Caleb to reply back? Maybe you had missed it, too focused on the game, too focused on him. After miserably loosing the kitty card mini game, you decided to just chat with him by clicking on tête-à-tête. Talking about studies.. wanting to hear his comforting words but with those limited options, how could you tell about how terrible study habits, your conflicting feelings?

You felt stupid, incompetent, like a failure for not being able to complete some simple assignments but how do you tell all that to a fictional love interest in a game? It was shameful in a way, relying so much on the opinions and comforting of something that wasn't even real? It was just so weird.. how he mattered so much to you. Your thumb caressed the screen of your phone where his cheek was, as if he could feel your touch. It made a burning sensation flare up in the back your throat as the brightness of your screen burned into your retinas. Exhaustion of the day catching upto you. Your body curling up on the sheets of your bed. Yeah, maybe sleep would be better. Maybe you'd dream of him.

A/N- Hi everyone, I'm a new writer so this work might feel like really dry and dull. This is just part 1. I'm going to write more. This fic is inspired by Error 404 fanfic of @ittybittyfanblog. I hope you like it.

[quill-for-glory]

Loveless Masterlist 1/5

You may view the fic on Wattpad / Quotev

ACT I → Chapter 1 – "The Silver Knight Descends"

After defeating the Monster Boss during the Hunters Guild Raid, Sung Jinwoo discovers one of the corpses that he can't raise due to its corrupted mana. As he exits the dungeon, you appear—a renowned Hunter whose presence stuns everyone. Your interest in both Jinwoo and the mutated corpse hints at a deeper mystery—and a looming threat far beyond a simple raid.

→ Chapter 2 – "Let the Blades Speak"

Upon hearing that Sung Jinwoo is undergoing re-evaluation, you volunteer to test him yourself. What follows is a brutal, sparring match between you and Jinwoo where he has to adapt under pressure, pushing his limits as the test turns into a true trial of survival.

→ Chapter 3 → Chapter 4 → Chapter 5 → Chapter 5 → Chapter 6 → Chapter 7 → Chapter 8 → Chapter 9

Go to ACT I . ACT II . ACT III . ACT IV . ACT V

CREDITS

dividers: @cafekitsune

[quill-for-glory]

Hey guys!

So...I finally managed to post my crossover fic of Solo Leveling x FF VII. I hope you'd like it. It's called Loveless. 🙂

Please visit my Wattpad or Quotev to view the Prologue & Chapter 1 or view the links below.

Looking forward for your votes, likes, comments, etc. 🥰

Links to Loveless:

In a world teetering on the edge of chaos, you grapple with a haunting past you can't escape from while Sung Jinwoo rises to face a looming

Loveless [Solo Leveling x Final Fantasy VII Fic]

In a world teetering on the edge of chaos, you grapple with a haunting past you can't escape from while Sung Jinwoo rises to face a looming