We haven’t talked about yandere!reader or yandere!polytrix in a while so can I request headcanons on yandere!reader x yandere!polytrix and the absolute obsession they have for each other.
Fixation
Tags: Rumi x Reader, Mira x Reader, Zoey x Reader, Polytrix x Reader. Yandere!Polytrix, Yandere!Reader, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic Relationship, Stalking,
Oh this is a match made in heaven if there ever was one.
Mutal obsession. Mutual toxic obsession. Ya’ll aren’t just crossing boundaries, you’re straight up ignoring them because of how unhealthily obsessed and possessive you are of each other. Y’all are gonna make each other worse in all the best ways.
Your obsession started the first time you saw them on stage. They were ethereal, you left that show in love.
A twisted sort of love, but a love nonetheless.
You went to all their concerts after that. All their meet and greet events. It didn’t matter the distance, where they went, you followed.
The same went for their merch. You bought all the official Huntrx merch. Whenever a new line dropped, you were ordering one of everything that same day.
Your obsession with them is straight up murdering you financially.
But it’s fine. If your money went to supporting them, then it was worth it. There's nowhere else you'd rather give your money too.
Remember the Lover Girl Shrines? You have one for them. Photos of them, some official, some you took yourself. Albums. Photo cards. Plushies. The work.
You moved to Seoul specifically to be closer to them. Loitering near the tower in hopes of catching a glimpse of them.
If you see that there’s problematic fans at the events. The ones that demand too much from them, that get too handsy, pushing boundaries with no respect for them?
You make sure that those “fans” never come back.
One could almost say that you suffered from erotomania with how far gone you seemed to be. The paranoid delusion that they were just as in love with you as you were with them.
Except. They are.
They truly are just as in love with you in all the same twisted, toxic ways.
You see they noticed you.
That one fan who’s been at all their concerts, front row, with your signs saying you loved them. You're the fan who sends a fan letter every day telling them how much you love them. The one at every fan event. Always so sweet and adorable when you talk to them at the table, face red, stumbling over your words because you can't get over that you're really talking to them.
You were always so happy to see them in a way that was different from the other fans.
They’re curious at first, then intrigued by your dedication, and soon enough they’ve latched on to you just as tight.
You’re dedicated to them in a way no one else is, and how can they not find that really attractive? How can they not want more of you?
The start of your relationship is a game of cat and mouse between stalkers.
Jokes on you tho because they are by far the superior stalkers. Guess demon hunting training can be versatile in its use.
You think you’re following Zoey, watching her go about her day. You don’t know she’d just the bait while Mira is following and photographing you, and Rumi is raiding your apartment for souvenirs to take home.
You’ve had several articles of clothing that have gone missing, and at least one toothbrush, but you can’t figure out how it keeps happening.
They love your shrine to them, think it shows just how wholly devoted you are to them. it inspired them to make one for you.
They especially love the wall of photos you've taken of them. Make a game out of which ones they knew you were there for, which ones they didn't, trying to guess where you must have been hiding in those ones.
Anyone else would find it creepy. But they adore it. Adore you. They're sure you wouldn't mind if they started doing the same to you.
These outings might as well be dates for you four, actually. Never actually together, but watching each other, feeling intimately close to each other as you sneak photos from a distance.
Tragically, you can't stalk them all day.
Concert and fan sign tickets? Albums, and merchandise? That all costs money, and so you have a job so you can afford all of it.
But that’s fine because Zoey loves to watch you while you work. Doesn’t matter what kind of job it is, she will find a way to spend your shift spying on you. Do not underestimate her determination.
She's got so many notebooks filled out with observations she makes. The people you talk to while working, who you smiled at, who smiled at you, who was touching you. She shares these notes with Rumi and Mira when they're all home.
And while you’re at work, they can take care of important business. Getting rid of people around you.
People who were causing you trouble? People who were getting too close to you? Just like with the terrible fans you deal with for them, they make sure you never have to see these people again.
This goes on for a month, maybe two. They're having fun watching from a distance while you think they don't know about you yet, but they also really wanna make you theirs already.
But with how long they waited, they're confident they know everything there is to know about you, and they've got the penthouse set up to include you. Because obviously you'll be moving in with them, they're not going to give you the option to say no.
What's a yandere AU without a little bit of kidnapping? They wait until you're home and asleep, give you a nice little sedative to make sure you stay asleep, before bringing you back to the penthouse.
You're confused and a little disorientated when you wake up. Even more confused when you wake up in a bed far softer than anything you could afford, with Zoey straddling you.
Honestly, you're half convinced you're still dreaming, because you've definitely had dreams about this scenario before.
She wasn't doing anything, she just really loves to watch you sleep and try to guess what you might be dreaming of, and this was the best spot for it.
She wastes no time calling for Mira and Rumi, telling them you're awake.
In any other situation there would be screaming, there would be demands for answers, there'd be panic. But you guys are all the same flavor of crazy that there's none of it.
It's actually a very civil conversation once Mira and Rumi come in, bringing breakfast in bed for you all to share, explaining that they know you've been watching them, they've been watching you, too.
They explain these last couple of months, everything they've learned, how they fell in love with you, finishing it off with explaining that you are theirs now, and will be living here in the penthouse.
No, this is not a choice. You don't want to find out what's going to happen if you refuse them.
But, as already made clear, you're just as obsessed as they are. So why in the world would you ever even consider saying no?
God you guys are going to be both the cutest and most fucked up couple ever.
Now that you're all together they waste no time moving all your belongings into the penthouse. Hell, they even repurpose one of the spare apartments on a lower floor so it could be specifically for you, it's only fair you get a space to yourself since they've got their own massive bedrooms for privacy. Not that you use that apartment often.
You can quit your job. Your new job is being their partner, going where they go, doing everything you can to make them happy, make them loved, being wholly devoted to them.
'you go where they go' is literal. If they're out in a studio doing rehearsals for a concert, you're there. At a convenience hall for a fan event? You're there. On tour? You are there. Always in the background while they work, glaring at anyone who tries to get too close to them.
The only person allowed to touch them so freely in your mind is Bobby. Anyone else and you get angry.
Sometimes you have to use violence to get the message across, too. It makes the girls swoon to see how far you'll go for them.
And man, you can say goodbye to any social circle you had before getting together with Huntrix. They combed through all your contacts on your phone and any social media account you have and blocked everyone who wasn't them. Even your own family members.
Because why the hell would you dare to think about someone else when the only people on your mind should be Mira, Rumi, and Zoey?
No, they don't care that it's your mom who's been reaching out to you, or if it's your best friend who's asking to hang out. You are theirs, and they do not share.
You can play the normal couple when in public when they want. But once you’re somewhere private with the girls? Masks are off for all of you, your obsession for each other, in all the best and worst ways, on full display.
You do not know how to show each other love in a conventional way. Not at all.
Bugging each others phones? A declaration of love. Knowing each others schedule like the back of their hands so they know where each other should be at any minute of the day? A sign of devotion. Getting rid of any potential threat to your relationship? Loyalty.
Boundaries? Don't know her.
They will flood social media with posts about you.
A photo of you napping cuddling against one of the others? They're showing it off for the whole world to see. They dressed you up in all these new cute and sexy outfits? Uploaded to the internet bragging about how your all theirs.
You're just as bad about it, to be honest. Backstage photos of the girls, gushing about how amazing they are during rehearsals and practice, telling people how they're gonna kill it at their next concert, or how their newest album will blow everyone away.
It's obvious to anyone who looks that you are all madly in love with each other. Emphasis on madly.
Bobby is 100% concerned about what's going on.
But you're all, weirdly enough, incredibly happy with your dynamic, and his girls happiness is what's most important to him. Plus no one's been hurt yet, to his knowledge (and they make sure that to his knowledge remains true), so he'll stay out of it.
Hey, I hope you’re doing well today! Can I request headcanons for a Zoey x GN!reader who’s a rock/metalhead, basically the total opposite of Zoey. Probably, met at a music festival both Reader’s band and Huntrix were playing at and managed to befriend the girls and fall for Zoey. Reader seems intimidating and stoic, but is actually really gentle, caring and protective, especially towards Zoey. Thanks! 🙏 You’re oblivious!reader posts are Amazing btw 😂
Cute Together
Tags: Zoey/Reader, GN!Reader, Metal Singer!Reader, Not-Quite Secret Relationship, Gay Disaster Zoey, Reader has piercings, Lovergirls Gonna Lovergirl, Injury Care lowkey Nightwish is my only real ref for metal
WC: 5400
Special thanks to @sapphicantics for helping me with the writers block I had on this one ❤️
It wasn’t that Zoey was unfamiliar with festivals and how large and sprawling they could be—she’s from California, after all, she’s a veteran of state fairs and how massive they can be!—but that didn’t stop her from getting separated from her friends and lost at the music festival.
No big deal! Not at all!
She just needed to keep walking, eventually she’d find something familiar to help her get her bearings.
If she had her phone, she could just call Rumi or Mira, or even Bobby—but she had left her phone at their stage when she’d gone to get drinks from one of the vendor’s tents they had passed by. So calling for rescue was out of the question.
But how hard could it be to find their stage again? Sure, the festival grounds were large, and Zoey had been walking for a good while now, but it wasn’t the Infinite Ikea! Just keep walking and she’ll find the end!
The smart thing would probably be to hail down one of the festival staff. But that’d be like admitting defeat, she’d feel like a lost kid in a Walmart being returned to her disappointed parents.
The parents in this scenario being Rumi and Mira.
No, she had to find them, had to get back, on her own! It’s the only way her pride would survive!
Just retrace her step, that’s all, after all she’s fairly sure she’s walked by that fried-chicken tent twice now. Unless they have multiple tents like that set up, in that case, maybe this was the first time Zoey’s passed by that specific one.
If that’s an entirely different one, then who knew where she could be, maybe she’d only been walking farther and farther from the girls. What if she didn’t find them in time, what if she couldn’t find the stage in time for their show and Huntr/x had to cancel because Zoey got lost. What if they—
“Careful now.”
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Zoey aside, and pulling her from her own head just in time to see a pair of technicians just about drop a speaker right where she’d been.
Oh. That would have hurt.
“That coulda been bad,” that same rough voice agreed with a grimace, and Zoey suddenly became acutely aware of the firm frame she was being held securely against. “You okay?”
Zoey turned as best she could to look up at her rescuer, and nearly had to do a doubletake because mama-fucking-mia you were hot.
Tall, her mind supplied as she stared up at you. Taller than her, at least. Piercings. The kind of leather jacket with sharp studs that Mira would kill for, the kind of piercings that would give Bobby and Celine both a heart attack if any of Huntr/x got.
And good God the way you were staring at her—it took Zoey a bit for her brain to do a full-blown reboot to process that you’d even asked her a question.
Face burning, she gave a nervous giggle. “I—I’m fine. Totally fine. Couldn’t be finer,” please, Zoey, please stop talking before this absolute snack of a person decided you were too uncool and walked away.
Your face was an iron mask of stoicism, the same kind she was used to seeing on Mira. But even so, she caught the way your lips twitched into an almost grin, “Glad to hear it,” you said, taking a half-step back to look her over. “Everything okay? You looked pretty distracted while walking.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t distracted, I was—” it was hard to think up of a decent lie when you were staring at her like that, and Zoey felt her face grow hotter. “—I may have gotten a little lost. And by a little, I mean I have no idea where I am.”
You laughed.
It wasn’t mean-spirited like she had worried, the kind of laughter she was used to growing up that made her feel small and stupid for speaking.
It was warmer, the kind of harmless enjoyment that said you were laughing with her, not at her.
The sound had her brain short-circuiting.
After a moment, you tilted your head, eyebrow raised in clear amusement. “Well, maybe I can help. Where are you trying to get to?”
“Are you sure?” Zoey asked, fiddling her hands together. “I mean, I’m sure you’re pretty busy, I wouldn’t want to take up your time—you were probably already doing something before I got in the way, and I wouldn’t want to distract you from your friends.”
Another soft laugh that had her heart doing a flip.
“It’s fine, really,” you assured her before turning towards the crowd, cupping your hands around your mouth before shouting. “Hey! Ji-ah, Hyun-woo! I’ll be right back, try not to start any fires while I’m gone!”
By one of the tents, a pair hollered back at you in a way that Zoey couldn’t catch was them agreeing to not start a fire, or agreeing to start fires. But she didn’t have time to think more on it, because you’d taken her by the hand and started pulling her forward.
“So, that takes care of that. Where exactly are you trying to get to?”
Face still burning, it took Zoey a few attempts to sort through her own words, “Um—Huntrix—stage—” she stammered, gaze locked on your joined hands, and how perfectly hers fit in yours.
No, no, get a hold of yourself, Zoey. This is not the time to be having a mental malfunction because a pretty person is with you. “I mean—” she cleared her throat, “I’m with Huntrix—I’m Zoey, by the way.”
You hummed in surprise, looking her over up and down. “Well, I didn’t have ‘meet an international pop star’ on my bingo card today. But it’s nice meeting you, Zoey.” You then offered an introduction of your own—and Zoey buried your name deep into her chest. “So I take it you’re trying to find your tent?”
“Yes, please.”
With a nod, you looked around, peering at the hanging signs from above, mentally mapping out a route. You didn’t let go of Zoey’s hand at all through it. “Right, I think I know where we need to go. Come on.”
As you said that, you gave her another playful smirk that had her face burning and breathy laughter spilling out, letting herself be pulled alongside you.
It didn’t take long to find the others with you at the helm. It was clear that you were far more familiar with the fair grounds than Zoey was, weaving through the crowds with a kind of graceful expertise.
All the while, you kept talking to her. Laughing at the silly jokes she threw out, smiling and watching from the corner of your eye even when Zoey fell into tangents and lost the plot of their conversation.
It was nice. You were easy to get along with.
She almost hadn’t wanted her time with you to be over, but that’s exactly what happened when they reached the stage, and their tent just behind it, and Zoey was all but jumped by a worried Rumi and Mira.
“Where have you been?” Mira demanded; hands on Zoey’s cheeks as she began looking her over for any sign that she might have got in trouble. “You said you were getting drinks an hour ago!”
“We were worried, we couldn’t get a hold of you,” Rumi continued with the tone of a disappointed mother. She must have learned that one from Celine.
Zoey offered a nervous laugh, trying to pull herself free from Mira’s grip. “I’m fine, I swear, I just got a little turned around.”
“More than a little,” Mira growled back.
“No, really, I’m fine,” she insisted again, gesturing to you as she finally managed to get out of Mira’s hold. “My new friend here helped me get back to you guys, so everything is okay, now.”
Rumi stopped and looked over to you, “New friend?” she started, the suspicion clear in her tone.
Reasonable, Zoey supposed; you were a stranger, they didn’t know you or your intentions, for all Rumi knew, you were just hoping to take advantage of Zoey’s ‘innocent’ reputation to cause problems.
Though if that were the case, you were going to find she wasn’t nearly as innocent as the media painted her as.
You gave a shrug and introduced yourself to the other. Knowing that you were with one of the bands that was performing at the festival seemed to have put some of their worries to rest.
They still fretted over Zoey like she was a lost puppy finally coming home, and normally she wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t so embarrassing of them to do it in front of you.
“I should get back to the others,” you said as way of goodbye, much to her chagrin, wanting you to stay for longer. “but, hey, it was nice meeting you. If you ever want to hang out, just hit me up.”
“Oh—right!” Zoey nodded, her blush returning when you slipped her a piece of paper, your number scrawled across it.
She was absolutely going to call.
.
.
.
After that festival, you became something of a regular face among Huntr/x. Zoey’s new best friend, so it were.
She’d be going out to get coffees with you every week, inviting each other to join them on errands, to watch new movies together, or just to grab a bite to eat.
Zoey’s invited you to Huntr/x tower so often that neither Mira nor Rumi were surprised anymore to see you already there in the morning, quietly chatting with Zoey on the couch or at the kitchen island over breakfast.
Not that they were going to complain, you had managed to become a close friend of theirs in a short span of time, too.
That wouldn’t be too odd; Zoey was a sweetheart, she made friends far more easily than she even realized. It didn’t come as any surprise to the others that you and she got so close so quickly.
But there was something different about her closeness with you. Rumi and Mira noticed it, Bobby noticed it, even the fans had started to catch on as photos started circulating social media. Snapshots of you and her hanging out at coffee shops, or walking out of theaters, or of you caught in the background during different events Zoey was in.
Fans regularly shot out questions—when did Zoey become friends with you? Were your respective groups working on a collab, was that why you and Zoey were always together?
Each time, Zoey brushed it off, claiming you were just her friend, a close and cherished friend, but it’s nothing more. It almost sounded convincing.
Almost.
But Rumi got to see how Zoey acted when it came to you when in the privacy of home.
She always got so giggly, as if everything else in the world had disappeared. Smiling at you, hanging off of you, you pulling her into your lap or wrapping your arms around her like it was the most natural thing to do.
It was adorable, sure, but it did not support what she claimed your relationship to be at all.
Rumi had lost track of how often she’d head into the kitchen for a midnight snack, only to find Zoey already there, bent over her phone and giggling—only to clam up the moment she noticed Rumi standing there, hiding her phone and offering a nervous greeting.
“Who you talking to?”
“Oh!” Zoey let out a pitched laugh, “I—just, you know,” there was a brush of red on her cheeks as she stammered out your name with a wobbly smile. As if she was trying hard to keep some secret. “They’re coming back from tour this weekend, so we’re figuring out our plans of what to do once they’re back.”
Rumi let out a slow nod, “Uh huh.” That was totally the way someone acts when just planning a hang out. “And what are your plans?”
That was the right thing to ask because Zoey’s smile widened and she immediately launched into talking about how she was looking forward to taking you out to that new restaurant that opened up last week, and how you already pre-ordered aquarium tickets for you and her.
It was going to be a little tricky finding the time to do everything; even though you were on break, Zoey still had training, interviews, and nightly patrols. But she had everything scheduled out so that she could ensure that all her free time got to be spent hanging out with you.
The way she talked about it, the kind of excitement, it went beyond the energy she had whenever Rumi and Mira made plans with her. There was clearly more than ‘friends’ going on between you two. But—
Zoey looked so happy that Rumi couldn’t bring herself to ruin the moment with unnecessary questions.
Instead, Rumi let a grin settle across her face. “Well, it sounds like you two are going to have plenty of fun,” and Zoey stared at her phone, gaze and smile both soft as she murmured an agreement.
.
.
.
You had joined Mira on an errand in town—though she suspected you had only joined her because the errand involved picking a few things up for Zoey, who had come down with a minor cold. But that was beside the point.
She didn’t mind your company, quite the opposite, in fact. You were easy to get along with, and you shared a lot of the same interests as Mira, so it was easy for her to relax and feel at home when talking with you.
“I was thinking; you guys don’t have anything scheduled for April, do you?” you asked, browsing one of the pharmacy shelves.
Mira had to think for a moment, “Not that I know of. We might have a concert here or there, maybe a fan event, but nothing set in stone at the moment,” she answered. “Why?”
You offered a shrug, “I was thinking of taking Zoey on a trip to Costa Rica for a few weeks,” you picked up a bottle of cough medicine, reading over the label. “They’ve got some of the best beaches for turtles, and I thought that might be something she might like.”
Oh. Well, wasn’t that sweet?
Your back was turned towards her, so Mira couldn’t really catch what expression you had made, but the softness of how you spoke gave her an idea. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at it all. Something Zoey might like? That was something Zoey would love.
“If you give me the dates you’re planning the trip for, I can work with Bobby and Rumi to make sure we’re on a short hiatus for that period,” Mira offered. God knows they would have earned one by then.
“That’d be awesome—and if you could, please don’t mention anything to Zoey? I want this to be a surprise.”
A surprise, huh? “My lips are sealed,” Mira mimed a zipping and locking motion over her mouth, tossing the metaphorical key aside. “So, what’s this for, anyway? Special occasion or something?”
You had turned just enough that Mira could see the soft look on your face, “Yeah, something like that,” you murmured, and before she could start trying to calculate what exactly it was, you held up a bottle of cold medicine.
“Berry flavor, her favorite.”
You two grabbed a few more things from the store before deciding to head back to the penthouse, your conversation having long since drifted away from the trip to other things. Music rankings, upcoming movies, amusing things that have happened to their respective groups.
It was easy for Mira to just relax and forget about the world around her when she was chatting with you. Maybe that was a bad thing—she’d been so focused on your conversation; she hadn’t noticed the figure approaching.
Not until a hand snatched her by the arm, pulling Mira back. “I can’t believe it! It really is you,” a man proclaimed, holding up his phone eagerly, snapping a photo before Mira could get a word out.
Great. The red flag kind of fan.
She’s dealt with quite a few of them during the years with Huntr/x, the type who had no care for personal space or common manners. The kind of fan who demanded attention, always asked inappropriately personal questions, and were always grabbing at idols like it was their right.
“Can I get your autograph?” the fan asked, already stuffing his phone into his pocket to pull out a sharpie, thrusting it into Mira’s face—he was still holding on to her. “I can’t believe it; my friends are going to flip when they hear I met you.”
Mira forced a smile, all her PR training coming to the forefront. “It’s nice to meet you, too. But I’m not doing autographs right now, sorry, I’m actually kind of busy at the moment.”
That did nothing, he kept waving the sharpie in her face, “Come on, it’ll be quick, please?”
Still smiling, she began calculating the best way to pull herself free from his hold without causing a scene, having to bite back all the insults she wanted to throw at him.
Though, as it turned out, she didn’t need to do anything.
You had snatched his wrist in an instant, pulling the offending limb off of Mira. “No, we don’t do that,” you said simply, staring down at the fan.
The fan began squirming, tugging at his arm. “Hey, man, let me go!”
Mira watched in surprise, one hand cradling her arm where he had been gripping. Even with him thrashing against you trying to pull free, your grip remained tight.
“It’s not so fun to be grabbed at like this, now is it?” you countered with a tilt of your head. Your tone remained calm as you spoke to him, borderline icy. “We don’t touch people like that. Understand?”
When only complained and continued to pull, you tightened your hold on him. “Understand?”
“I understand, just let me go!”
With that, you opened your hand and let him stumble back.
He gripped at his arm, the red mark you had left standing out against the rest of his skin. Glaring at you, he spat out an insult or two and stormed away.
Once he was gone, you turned to face Mira, your expression softening as you looked her over. “You okay, Mira?” you asked, your gentle tone a stark contrast compared to how you had been speaking moments ago.
It took her a moment to process what you’d said. Blinking, it took Mira a moment to collect herself before she nodded, arm falling to her side, “I’m fine, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she dismissed.
It wasn't as if she needed rescuing, she killed demons on the regular, the biggest threat that guy posed was the media backlash if she'd used too much force pushing him away. But, she couldn't deny that it was nice to let someone else handle those types of people for her for a change.
“Come on, let’s get these errands finished so I can get back to couch time.”
Letting out a chuckle, you didn’t argue and the two continued on your way, talking about this or that, letting the mood shift back to how it had been before your interruption.
Though, that didn’t stop her from sneaking glances towards you every so often. It was strange; you were always so sickeningly sweet towards Huntr/x. Seeing you go from teddy bear to a grizzly bear so quickly had been a sight.
She wasn’t going to be getting that out of her head for a while.
By the time Mira had returned to the penthouse, she found Zoey already relaxing at the couch, some show playing on the television across from her. She was bundled up in a blanket, box of tissue next to her.
“Hey, you two! Welcome back!” Zoey greeted when she saw Mira walk in, her voice hoarse.
You had made a beeline to her, hand to her forehead to check her temp, already fretting over her like a worried mother while Zoey giggled and leaned in to your every touch. It was adorable.
Mira watched with interest, you really were a teddy bear, especially around Zoey. She couldn’t help but wonder just how you would have reacted if it had been her that guy had grabbed and not Mira.
All she knew was that he was lucky he'd bothered Mira and not Zoey.
.
.
.
You and Zoey had especially caught the fans attention by making a stint in public.
It hadn’t been anything especially shocking, it wasn’t like you and Zoey were caught on a kiss cam at a Coldplay concert. But it might as well have been for how the fanbase reacted.
It had been a fan event, one that had felt like it had been dragging on for hours.
Now it’s not that Zoey didn’t like spending time with her fans, getting to say hello and meeting them. But sometimes she just felt like she was in a funk during the events, having to force herself to smile and laugh when all she wanted was to curl up in bed. Social battery at a critical low, it was taking everything she had to not drop her head to the table and disconnect from everything.
People must have started to notice her mood, too, because she’d started getting more and more “are you okay?” questions. Which—it was incredibly sweet of them to ask! But that made her feel worse!
Then you showed up, apparently at Rumi’s behest, bringing gifts of flavored milk and extra water for each of them.
Zoey couldn’t have been happier.
“Here you go,” you had said with a soft smile as you handed Zoey her drinks last, “Thought you could use a pick-me-up.”
Oh her heart was fluttering. “You are too sweet. But I think I need more than this to get me going again,” she teased, ignoring the audience of fans watching them. “I’ve gotten a dangerous lack of hugs today. You should really do something about that.”
Your smile turned into a playful smirk, “Oh? You’re right, I should.”
Honestly, Zoey had no one else but herself to blame for the gossip and rumors that followed that event, considering she spent the rest of it cuddled up on your lap while she signed posters and shook hands.
It was cute seeing all the fans whisper and gawk.
There was a rising murmur among the lines when you joined the table; who even were you? Those who did know were even more confused, because what was a member of a metal band doing hanging out with Huntr/x?
Even with your chin propped on her shoulder and arms wrapped around her waist, your resting face had just enough intimidation that fans did a double take.
Was this what it felt like to have Scary Dog Privileges? If so, Zoey loved it.
Though she might complain about it, she was also very much loving seeing all the photos and posts about herself and you on social media.
She did not like the teasing she got from Mira and Rumi after.
Ah well. At least she got a good energy boost from cuddling you.
.
.
.
Zoey had spent all night fighting demons.
The tear had been sudden, had happened while Rumi and Mira were occupied in a photo shoot they couldn’t leave—and so that left Zoey as the sole Hunter to handle things.
By the end of it all, she was bone tired. She was covered in scrapes, bruises, and cuts all over. Worrying if they would be healed in time for her next interview, if concealer would be enough to hide them all, and how she’d explain things to Bobby if it wasn’t.
Most importantly, she just wanted to sleep. Crawl into bed, cuddle her turtle plushie, and crash. Surely she could clean up after a nap.
But a nap wasn’t in her immediate future.
As soon as the elevator doors had opened, you were on her.
“What the Hell happened?” you weren’t yelling, your voice wasn’t raised, but the urgent demand was clear as you took her face in your hands, looking over the still oozing wounds she was covered in.
What were you even doing heeeeeooooh. Oh, no.
Right, you were coming over to meet up with her for a movie night while she had the penthouse to herself for the night. A movie night she had forgotten all about once she felt the Honmoon quiver.
And now you were here. And she was here. And she was standing here looking like she’d been dragged through a wood chipper.
Zoey had no idea how she was going to talk her way out of this.
You didn’t know about the demons, or the Honmoon, or any of the ‘fighting to protect the lives and souls of humanity’ part of being a Kpop idol. She didn’t want you to know and worry about all of that.
But your eyes had hardened, your lips curled back. “Who did this?”
“It’s nothing, really,” Zoey said quickly, pulling herself free from your grasp. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about—Zoey, I should be taking you to the hospital right now.”
The concern was greatly appreciated, but she was fine, totally fine, would be perfectly fine. She’s been through this before, she just needed some rest and the Honmoon would patch her up in time.
“I tried taking a short cut and ended up in a fight with barbed wire. I’ll be fine,” Zoey brushed you off, stepping around you to the living room, collapsing on the couch with a heavy sigh. “Don’t stress about it.”
Your words did nothing. She could hear you muttering “Don’t stress about it? I’m going to stress about it,” as you stalked through the penthouse. She listened to your footsteps go into the kitchen and then down the hall.
When you came back, you had an ice pack, a med kit, and a bowl of warm water carefully cradled in your arms.
Without another word, you sat down beside her, one leg folded under you on the cushions, the other supporting you on the floor. With the bowl of water and sponge, you started to clean the wounds on her hands, her arms, and her face with tender care.
Though it stung, Zoey relaxed into your touch, letting you wash away the blood and grime before moving on to disinfect the injuries.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”
She felt guilt coil in her gut. “No.”
Your hands trembled as you carefully pressed the disinfectant-soaked cotton ball to her skin, but your voice was sharp, “I hate when you keep secrets from me.”
“Come on, trust me, it’s nothing serious,” well, that was a lie, demon hunting was quite serious. But she didn’t want to worry you more than she already had.
You grumbled.
Smiling, Zoey reached out to play with your hair, “Look, it’s not that important. Sure I got a little hurt, but I’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t,” you shot back, voice fierce. “Don’t you dare downplay this. You can’t come in drenched in blood and tell me you getting hurt isn’t a big deal.”
You had caught her by the jaw, keeping her from looking away from you. The silence that followed your words was tense, and Zoey was caught between wanting to flinch beneath your tone, or preen over the adamant care in your words.
Eventually the tension leveled out. “Hold still,” your voice was still low.
Zoey obeyed, letting you tilt her head to the side to see better. When you pressed a fingertip to the edge of a cut along the underside of her jaw, right by her ear, Zoey let out a hiss. The cut was deep, but hopefully wouldn’t scar.
She’ll have to wear a patch or a mask to cover it, there’s no way that one would be healed in time for her next interview, even with the Honmoon bolstering her healing.
“Come on, pretty girl, turn your head for me,” you murmured, and Zoey’s brain short-circuited a little at the pet name, her face burning hot as it always did when you complimented her.
Unable to help it, Zoey let out a breathy giggle, “You think I’m pretty?”
That stern look of yours finally melted into the smile she loved so much. “You know I do,” you teased back, pausing your hands to look at her. “My pretty, pretty girl. Prettiest girl ever.”
Her heart flipped a little. She’d never, ever get used to someone calling her the prettiest girl, not when there were Mira and Rumi to compare her to. But you—you never gave them a second look.
Your eyes were only ever on Zoey.
“You know what? I don’t think I believe you,” Zoey whispered with a grin, tilting her head closer to yours.
Seeing the game she was trying to play, you went along with it, “You think I’d lie about that?” you whispered back with an offended gasp, bringing your own head forward.
She felt a rush of delight and excitement, forehead pressing to yours, “I dunno, maybe you should prove it.”
You laughed, a soft, addictive sound, before pressing your lips to hers.
It was a feeling that Zoey would never get tired of. Your lips soft and oh so welcoming, fitting perfectly against her own. You brought your hand to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss.
Kissing you was always slow. You didn’t rush, you savored every second of the kiss, passionate in a different, steadier way.
Zoey wasn’t as slow or half as patient as you. Her hands were already running across your frame, skimming over your chest and neck, down your arms and sides, like she was trying to map out everywhere she touched.
This was definitely not the time to do more than kissing, the more rational part of her mind warned. She was still covered in open cuts and bruises; they were in the middle of the living room. Really not a the time of place.
But the hungrier part of her mind really didn’t care as her hands began tugging at your jacket.
You pulled away from the kiss with a laugh, “Someone’s eager,” you murmured, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But no. Not while you’re still bleeding.”
Curse you for being the responsible one in this relationship.
Though Zoey couldn’t really be that upset when you leaned back in for another kiss.
So, safe to say, patching Zoey up has been more or less tossed to the backburner in favor of making out. Zoey is certainly not going to complain, though. She much prefers the kissing over the disinfectant.
And she’s pretty sure you do, too, by how you’ve crawled up to straddle her lap, deepening the kiss all the more.
You two were too invested in each other that neither of you noticed the sound of the elevators opening or quiet chatter coming up behind you.
It was only when the sound of a camera shutter cut through the air that you two parted.
“I knew it,” Mira smirked, looking all too proud of herself as she stared down at you two, phone held up as she snapped another photo.
Even Rumi looked pleasantly surprised by the sight of you two.
Zoey and you exchanged looks.
“Knew…what?” you asked after a long moment.
Rumi gestured to you and then to Zoey. “That you two were secretly dating,” she explained. “We’ve kind of had an inkling for a while now.”
“Kind of hard not to notice with how cute you two always are with each other,” Mira added.
They were grinning all smug-like, but those expressions started to falter when they noticed a lack of reaction coming from the two of you. A moment of silence passed over the room.
Another moment passed.
You shifted from where you were still on Zoey’s lap. “We were keeping it secret?” you asked her.
She shrugged in response, “I mean, I wasn’t tryingto keep it a secret,” she muttered before letting a wicked grin spread across her face before collapsing against you. “Oh, no, our secret, forbidden romance has been discovered, whatever shall we do?”
Grinning, you pulled her closer, “We’ll have to stop seeing each other, now. Oh, woe is us, doomed because we were caught.”
That seemed to have done the trick of wiping away what remained of Mira and Rumi’s sense of victory.
Biting back a groan of frustration at your antics, Mira dragged her hand down her face. “You know what? Forget what I said. I take it all back, you two aren’t cute.”
“Too late,” Zoey shot back, giggling as she buried her face in your neck. “You already said we were cute together, no takebacks!”
“You heard her, no takebacks,” you agreed with a grin, "We are very cute together."
okay! Please only do this if you have time but can I request a Mira x reader where they go to vist Mira’s parents only because they have to it’s y/ns first time meeting her parents (and because of the bad things they’ve heard about them their a little but not to protective of Mira and aren’t inclined to like them) but…something shocking happens they actually LIKE reader? And approve of a choice Mira made for once (even though they do make a very serious jab that their shocked reader is with Mira… and how Reader would make a more suitable match for her brother and try to set them up) but reader is such a supportive gf bragging about Mira, that she dosent even pay attention to them and defends Mira calmly but bluntly
Tension hung in the air as the car pulled up the driveway, lingering above like the crackle of an oncoming storm.
“Are you sure about this? We can still leave,” Mira murmured as she reached across the central console to adjust the collar of your shirt. “Just say the word and I’ll turn this car around. I’ll tell them that an emergency came up, tell them we can’t make it. I doubt they’ve even noticed us out here. We don’t have to do this.”
You laughed, catching her hand in yours before she could fully pull it back, bringing it over so you could press a kiss to her calloused palm. “Relax, Mira. It’s going to be fine.”
She scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never even met my parents. They’re not easy people to get along with.”
“And you are?” you teased.
“Easier than them.”
Rolling your eyes, you made no move to let go of her hand, instead entwining your fingers between hers. “If anything, I should really be thanking them.”
“Thanking them?” Mira echoed, looking at you incredulously. “I can promise that they’ve done nothing deserving a thanks. Especially not from you.”
She was scowling as she said that. Turning her head and glaring at the steering wheel like it had personally offended her. Honestly, you found it adorable.
“I don’t know. There is one thing that they did that I’ll always be grateful for,” you leaned across the car as you whispered in her ear, watching her fight not to shiver as a faint blush spread across her face and to the tips of her ears. A smile curved across your face as you pressed a light kiss to her cheek.
“They made you.”
The reaction you got was immediate. Mira’s face exploded in a rush of red, her mouth opening to speak, but unable to get the words out, just gaping at you, stammering, before bringing her other hand up to cover her face in a desperate bid to hide.
“You...” she let out a shaky exhale. “That’s not fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war, babe,” you snickered, pulling away to settle back into your seat.
The two of you stayed in there for a few moments longer as Mira slowly brought her blush under control—a hard task to do when you were acting all cute and snarky beside her.
But eventually you had to leave the car, no matter how much Mira might have wished otherwise, with you holding on to the gift bag in one hand, Mira’s own hand in your other.
The house you approached was a massive thing. It felt less like it could be called a house and more like a mansion, a sudden, sharp reminder that even before becoming Korea’s top idol, Mira came from wealth.
It felt more than a little intimidating, but having Mira’s hand in yours helped to ease the nerves.
“Just remember,” Mira whispered in your ear as you both approached the door. “Just say the word, for any reason, and we’ll leave. No judgement, no questions.”
You nodded back, giving her hand a squeeze.
Reaching the door, Mira gave you one more look before raising her fist and knocking. Loud and assertive.
It took a minute to hear any movement from within. When the door finally opened, Mira’s grip on your hand tightened as the pristine, proper, stern face of her mother came into view.
“You’re late,” she said with a disapproving click of her tongue, staring down at Mira.
Mira glared at the space just past her mother’s head. “Yeah well, I can’t control traffic, now can I?”
The tension was painfully thick, suffocating in its silence.
Mira’s glare on her mother was heated, filled with that same rebellious fire of her teenage years, where as her mother’s was cold and calculating, analyzing for every small flaw.
You cleared your throat in an attempt to it.
Once her mother had torn her gaze from Mira to you, you let go of Mira’s hand to bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” you said, using every ounce of vocal training you’ve ever gone through to keep the nervous tremble out of your voice, to keep it polite and inviting. You held out the gift bag you had brought with both hands in offering. “Thank you for inviting us into your home.”
She took the gab from you with an appreciative hum. “It’s good to see some people still remember their manners,” the pointed look she gave Mira did not go unnoticed.
But then she did something that had startled both of you.
She smiled.
“It’s good to have you; we’ve been looking forward to meeting you since we first heard you were with Mira,” her mother said pleasantly, borderline warmly, as she stepped away from the door. “Do come in, my husband and son are waiting in the dining room.”
This was…odd. This was odd, right? You looked to Mira for confirmation, and she looked just as put off by this shift in tone as you were.
But nevertheless, you both took to follow her mother into the house.
The inside was just as extravagant as the outside. Everything looked frighteningly expensive, from the vases on their pedestals to the paintings hanging on the walls. Even more it was cleaner than anyplace you’ve been to before. Meticulous.
You always thought you were good at keeping your apartment clean, but this place felt beyond clean. It felt sterile. White walls, grey carpets. It lacked the warmth of a home lived in.
As you walked, her mother would point out the different photos they passed by.
“This is from the math competition Ji-tae won in junior high,” she said pointing to a photo of Mira’s brother holding an award.
“This was when he was made student council president. He’s the first first-year to ever get that position,” anther photo of the then-teenage son standing beside a school with a student council armband.
“His graduation photo—he graduated top of his class,” followed by “Here’s him with his acceptance letter to Seoul’s National University.”
What concerned you was that for all the photos she pointed out about her son, you didn’t see a single photo of Mira on the wall. Even in the family photos she was conspicuously absent.
Glancing at Mira, you hoped to find some answer—but she was very purposely glaring at the floor to avoid seeing the photos. Her glare hot enough to burn a hole in the spotless carpet.
Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a tight squeeze and bumped your shoulder to hers.
Before long, you two had been led to the dining room—just as unnecessarily extravagant as the rest of the house. A massive space with a massive table made of expensive wood that was more fit for dinner parties than a family dinner.
Her father and brother were already there, chatting about something you hadn’t caught, but had gone to stand as soon as Mira’s mother entered the room with you and Mira trailing after.
“Ah! It’s good to finally meet you,” her father had said immediately, taking your hand in his to shake. “We’ve heard good things about you.”
You looked to Mira—she gave you a helpless look. She hadn’t been telling them anything about you, so who knows where they’ve been hearing all these ‘good things’ from.
When Mira had first said that her parents had reached out, wanting to meet the person dating their daughter, Mira had prepared you for the worst. Her parents were cold. They were strict. They were the type to look for even the smallest flaw and tear you apart for it. Uncompromising, unsympathetic. They were not, by any means, kind people.
So that was what you had expected.
You were going to be polite and sweet because, despite everything, these were still Mira’s parents, still her brother. But you had expected them to spend dinner telling you how you weren’t good enough for Mira, to pick you apart piece by piece.
Except, they weren’t doing any of that.
Her parents were downright pleasant in how they were talking to you; it was jarring.
But that pleasantry was painfully clear was only for you.
When they had opened the gift bag and pulled out the collection of luxury tea leaves you had gotten as a gift, they had nodded approvingly. “It’s good to know some people still know how to give a proper gift to their elders,” her mother had said.
“Well, it was Mira’s idea, actually,” you explained, smiling warmly at your girlfriend. “Between the two of us, she’s the tea expert; I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea which brand was better.”
There had been some hope that the praise would have gotten some response, and while Mira did preen beneath your words, her parents might as well have heard nothing you said.
Even as the group began eating, the mood did not shift. Her parents remained polite to you as they talked, but they treated Mira as if she were a ghost—never talking to her, but making sure to drop comments and jabs all the same.
Their attention was uncomfortable.
“So, you’re an actor, right?” her brother, Ji-tae, said between bites. His parents had made him sit beside you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Mira. He had, thankfully, not seemed especially interested in you, at least not as interested as his parents were.
You nodded back to him, “I am. That’s how Mira and I met, actually,” you said, glancing at Mira. “I was one of the extras for a commercial she was filming for a drink she was the ambassador for. We just hit it off immediately.”
It was still one of your fondest memories. The chemistry between you and Mira had been instantaneous, so much so that by the end of filming you had exchanged numbers, and within the month you were already dating.
Mira’s father nodded. “Acting is a fine career,” he said approvingly as he took a drink. “Far more lucrative than other celebrity roles. You’ll still be getting roles well into your twilight years, as opposed to a few years of the spotlight before being forgotten when the next fad hits."
Beside you, Mira stiffened.
You kept your smile, even if your jaw was grinding. “I don’t know about that. Personally I think an idol is way better than an actor,” you took Mira’s hand in yours beneath the table. “They can connect to people on a deeper level than an actor can. Why, most people don’t even know the names of the actors when watching a movie, they just know the roles.”
Her mother waved you off with a dismissive laugh, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re just too modest.”
The way she said it was sweet—but the condescending tone directed at Mira was impossible to miss. But you continued to smile and bit back the flood of things you wanted to say.
This was still Mira’s family, after all. You needed to be respectful.
You gave Mira’s hand another gentle squeeze, a wordless way to tell her that you were here, and continued to eat.
The conversation flowed on easily enough anyway.
Her parents asked you questions, needling you about the kind of roles you’ve had and the awards you’ve earned, where you planned to go in the future with your career. You stayed pleasant enough, answering questions about yourself, and praising Mira every chance you got to talk.
“Sure, I won a Baeksang award—but that's nothing compared to all Mira's done and all the awards she's earned."
"I'm just so proud of how amazing she's doing!"
"Her newest album broke the record for going diamond in the shortest amount of time, can you beleive it? Her solo from it is in the running for winning this year's Song of the Year! How awesome is that?"
“Honestly, I don’t think any idol or actor is going to ever compare to how great Mira is. She took the world by storm the moment she stepped on stage.”
“I’m just constantly left in awe by he, you know.”
“Did you see Mira at this years Met Gala? She was beyond beautiful.”
Though you were trying to hype her up, it was hard to sell how awesome you thought Mira was to people who weren't even listening. Every compliment you dropped was cancelled out by her parents dismissing it, or countering it with a flaw or complaint.
A pretty face marred by a bad attitude. Going to the gala in a sleeping bag? Disrespectful. Her music was just a fad, to be forgotten in a couple of years once a younger group took stage.
Each time you found your smile growing tenser. Harder to keep it up, harder to keep yourself in check.
“You’re so sweet and respectful,” her father said with a soft tut. “I can’t even understand why you’d be with Mira. She’s just so brash and temperamental. A girl like you could do so much better.”
Mira flinched under his words.
Her mother had been no better, “Our dear Ji-tae is in his final year of residency,” she praised, gesturing to the man beside you. “A brilliant, talented young man with a far more stable career, he’d have made a far better match for you, don't you think?”
To your relief, Ji-tae seemed just as annoyed at the comment as you felt.
“That’s kind of you, but I am very happy with Mira. She’s actually incredibly sweet, the greatest girlfriend anyone could ever ask for, really.”
And it was true, Mira was the greatest person in your life. She was considerate and patient, even when you were being stubborn, she was so intuitive, always able to notice when something was wrong with you. She took care of you, showered you in so much love.
The idea of replacing her with someone else just felt wrong. Blasphemous.
“That’s a shame,” her mother sighed, bringing a hand to her cheek. “You’re exactly the kind of daughter any mother would want.”
Without a word, Mira stood up from the table. Her movement was so sudden and forceful that it had the table shake, before she stalked.
Her father tsked, “See what we mean. So temperamental.”
Maybe she wouldn’t be if you were a bit nicer, you thought as you offered a tense smile and slowly stood up. “I’ll go check on her,” you said, excusing yourself.
Not giving them a chance to argue, you stepped out of the dining room.
Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much for you to track her down, finding her sulking outside on a balcony, arms crossed over her chest and scowling.
You smiled softly as the closed the glass door behind you. “Hey, there’s my pretty girl,” you cooed. But Mira didn’t respond, didn’t even turn towards you. “Mira? Are you doing okay?”
You reached out to touch her shoulder—but Mira harshly jerked away from you. She never recoiled from you before like this before.
And yet, in this moment, she had. It was as if your touch, your presence, was the last thing she wanted.
Keeping her arms crossed over her chest, Mira glared at the wall, at the sky, at the ground, looking everywhere but at you. Her nails digging crescents into her biceps, deep enough you worried she might draw blood.
“Just go,” she snapped through gritted teeth. “They love you so much already, leave me be and be the daughter they always wanted.”
Oh, oh sweetheart.
You took another step forward, and then another. Keeping slow until you had closed the distance and had wrapped your arms tight around her.
“Mira,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair, tucking her head under your chin. She had immediately melted in your grip. “Talk to me, baby. This is because of how they’re acting, right?”
Slowly, hesitantly, Mira nodded against you.
"It's stupid," Mira admitted after a long breath.
You hummed, "No, it's not."
“I thought I’d wanted them to like you—but then they did and…” she hesitantly looped an arm around your waist, her other grasping your jacket. “They’re not even hiding that they like you more. I mean-"
With a sharp motion, she pulled away to glare up at the sky. “What the hell are they on about? ‘Exactly the kind of daughter any mother would want’? Trying to set you up with my brother of all people? What the fuck?”
You let out a laugh, still playing with her hair. “Hilarious, considering I don’t even like guys. And even if I did,” you leaned closer to press a kiss to her brow. “Why on earth would I downgrade when I already have the best partner anyone could want?”
That earned a small snicker from her, pleased at the praise, at being considered the better option.
You continued to hold her, continued to run you fingers through her hair, nails along her scalp, soothing her raised hackles. “I’m sorry if I made things worse,” you apologized. “I kept trying to redirect the conversation to how amazing you were, I should have done more. I just didn’t want to come across as rude since they’re your parents.”
“No, no, you were just fine,” Mira assured you just as quick. “You were wonderful, I do really appreciate you sticking up for me. They were the ones ruining dinner, like come on, take a hint.”
“To be fair, they ruined dinner with the food alone. That fish? Horribly under seasoned.”
“I know, right?” she let out a loud laugh before looking at you, expression soft and full of love. “How about you and I get out of here and get some real food. I’m thinking ramyeon.”
“You read my mind,” you nuzzled your cheek to hers. “But, there is one thing I want to do before we leave.”
“Oh?”
Wish a mischievous smile, Mira let you pull her back into the house, back through the halls and—to her surprise—back to the dining room.
She was curious, of course, of what you needed to do here with her family before you and her left.
But you didn’t leave her wondering for long.
You held Mira’s hand in your own as you looked her mother and her father dead on, loudly, brazenly, declaring your love for Mira. She watched as their faces went stony as you tore into them, and felt her own face begin to burn as you listed every detailed thing you loved about her.
This was a nuclear bomb of goodbyes, the kind that almost guaranteed no invitations back.
You went off about how disappointed you were in her parents, about how you were going to make sure Mira never felt unloved like they had done. Ending your speech with exactly what you thought of them.
They likely weren’t thinking you were the polite ‘perfect daughter’ anymore.
Topping it all off, you pulled Mira in to a deep kiss before looking at her folks with a wicked grin. "Don't expect a wedding invite~" you said cheekily, dragging Mira out of the dinning room—and then right out of the house.
She was sure her parents were having aneurysms right about now as she climbed into her car. There was a giddy feeling clawing at her chest after seeing you let loose on them.
Finally, she broke into laughter, "I love you so, so much," she breathed out.
Who cared what her parents thought and said; she didn't need them or their approval when she already had you.
hii, what are your thoughts about yandere Zoey that keeps female reader isolated in her room and y/n finally got the chance to run away from huntrix penthouse?
ft. zoey, rumi, mira (poly) x f! reader — kpop demon hunters
╰₊✧ how they react to their darling escaping┊558 words
➤ author's note: decided to do all of huntrix for this one
despite having three demon hunters constantly watching over you and security posted at every corner outside the penthouse, it's suprisingly easy to escape simply because of how busy the trio are. while zoey is overbearingly affectionate, mira is constantly reading your emotions to ensure you don't get any ideas, and rumi is trying to prove that you were better off with them than anywhere else, they are always busy due to their hectic work schedules and occasional unplanned demon battles. all you really need to worry about is the guards, but once you figure out their blind spots, then it's almost too easy to finally make your getaway. although you were scared of what would happen if women as powerful as they (both in strength and influence), you knew this was something you had to do before you were driven to insanity after being trapped in their shared bedroom for so long.
when they arrive home late at night to realize that you were missing, they quickly fall into chaos, scrambling, tearing the place apart to look for you, and raising their voices to pin the blame on each other. it's zoey's fault for losing the key to your room and leaving it unlocked, it's mira's fault for scolding you before they left, it's rumi's fault for wanting to stay at the studio for more practice instead of coming home to you, and it turns into a shouting match for a few moments before collecting themselves and reminding each other that they were strongest together than than apart. they needed to work together to bring you back to them, even if you hated being with them so much that you were willing to risk everything to leave.
each of them have their own methods for a situation like this. rumi scours the internet to see if you found refuge with a friend or if you were in the background of anyone's photo, mira uses her background to hire a private investigator in order to track your scent, and when they finally find you and drag you back, zoey is the one sweet-talking and manipulating you.
it's almost funny how you were so hell-bent on leaving, but the second you hear her voice talking about how worried they were for you, how much they missed you, how you did something horrible for trying to leave them, and how they will accept your apology regardless because they love you that much. she's an expert on making you feel guilty, always making you crave their forgiveness and adoration after you lash out or try to run away, and always making you wonder if upsetting them was really worth it when they bake you your favorite desserts that night and all cuddle you until you fall asleep.
at least, that's how you feel the night they bring you back to their spacious penthouse for you to wander around trapped in like a zoo animal. it only a matter of time until you lose it and start searching for another way to escape, carefully planning the route while keeping in mind what has and hasn't worked in the past. surely, if you keep trying, you will be successful at one point, right? although the real question is, will your captors eventually lose their patience with you and chain you up to prevent it?
Tags: Celine/Reader, F!Reader, French-Korean Celine, Minor Age Gap, Unrequited Love, Eventually Requited Love, Slowburn, Passage of Time | Time Skips, (Brief) Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Yearning, Denial
Sorry not sorry for this.
WC: 16,400 Because I had 0 self control writing this.
“I like you.”
You held out a bouquet of flowers to her. The roses were a deep, dark red, their scent strong and fresh. The smile you gave Celine was infallibly warm, as bright as the sun, as you held out your offering. As if your confession hadn’t come with the suddenness of a lightning strike.
“I would like to take you out on a date, if you would let me,” you continued.
Celine had been stunned into silence by your words, staring back at you. Behind her, she could hear Mi-yeong and Hyeon-seo whispering.
She knew you. Vaguely.
You were one of the trainee idols contracted to the same label as her. Not yet debuted. A soloist, if Celine remembered correctly.
Has she ever actually spoken to you before? Celine was sure that she had, maybe a few words here or there during small parties within the label or when running across each other at the studio. But nothing that had ever been worth remembering. Not enough to be called friends, let alone acquaintances.
And yet…here you were. Offering her flowers. Telling Celine that you liked her. Asking to take her out.
How ridiculous.
You didn’t know Celine, so how could you possibly say with such confidence that you liked her? And if you had truly known Celine, you would never be able to say you liked such a woman like her.
This was most likely an ill-formed plan to ingratiate yourself to one of Korea’s top music groups to try and improve your own standing. You certainly wouldn’t be the first trainee or rookie who thought to befriend the Sunlight Sisters as an attempt to bolster your popularity through your connections.
And if this wasn’t…if this really was some childishly naïve crush you had on your senior. Then it was best to nip it in the bud, now.
“No,” Celine said, her word monotonous and curt. A firm rejection.
Your smile didn’t falter, not even slightly. Nothing in your body tensed, none of the usual signs of irritation or dejection that most carried with them when she said that one word. Rather, your expression only grew softer.
As if you had expected that answer, as if it didn’t bother you at all.
“Okay,” you said, your tone just as sweet, just as warm as when you said you liked her, giving her a deep bow. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time. Please have a wonderful rest of your day.”
You were still smiling when you rose back up, still watching Celine with that same tenderness even as you turned and walked away. Celine watched you go without another word, ignoring the gnawing that began deep inside of her.
It was ridiculous.
Once you were gone, her friends had latched on. They grabbed at her, pulling Celine this way and that as they spoke over one another, demanding answers.
“Who was that?” Hyeon-seo.
“Why’d you say no? She was cute!” Mi-yeong.
“She’s one of the trainees, right? How does she know you?”
“She looked so earnest saying she liked you, too. It was adorable.”
“Did you see how small she is? She’s practically a baby.”
Celine sighed, pulling herself free from the two and smoothed out the wrinkles they’d made on her shirt. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, but I don’t really know her. Yes, I think she’s one of the trainees,” you said, answering them one by one, before fixing Mi-yeong with a stern look, “and you know why I said no.”
Even if you hadn’t been practically a stranger, even if she did like you back, Celine still would have said no to you.
None of them were allowed to date. Plain and simple.
Their mentors had made that clear from the very start. Even if there wasn’t the risk of a scandal if it got out that any one of them had started dating another idol—even if there wasn’t the career-ending risk if it got out one of them was dating another woman—none of them could afford to have a relationship.
They were to be focused on defending and strengthening the Honmoon, on fighting the demons, and nothing more. Which meant they needed to focus on their music, their careers, their fans. Anything else was a distraction that would weaken their efforts.
Romance especially. A partner would demand attention and priority be taken from their sacred duty. It was too much of a risk.
And it wasn't fair to any potential partner.
They would have to cancel plans whenever they sensed a tear or rupture in the Honmoon, leave in the middle of dates when they caught wind of a demon. They could never prioritize their partner over the Honmoon. Who would ever willingly come last in the person they loves life?
Mi-yeong’s smile tightened, “R-right. The Honmoon, above all others,” she mumbled, echoing their mentors lessons under her breath.
“You were better off saying no, anyway,” Hyeon-seo said, slapping Celine on the back, her tone far more resolute than the waver Mi-yeong had. “Even ignoring everything else; dating your hoobae? One who hasn’t even debuted yet?” she clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Recipe for disaster.”
Celine nodded in agreement.
Nothing good would come for from her accepting your confession, it would just cause too many problems, too many complications. It was better for all of them that she nipped it in the bud then and there.
Now you’d be free to move on and redirect those feelings towards someone your age who could reciprocate.
.
.
.
It had been three months before Celine found herself with another bouquet of roses offered to her, and you smiling gently—lovingly—at her as you uttered those same three words.
“I like you.”
She supposed her saving grace was that neither Mi-yeong or Hyeon-seo were near her this time, having already left the dressing room and heading out for the post-concert signing event.
Celine was wishing she’d gone with them instead of lingering back. At least then she could have avoided this awkward encounter.
“I thought I told you ‘no’ already.”
Your smile didn’t falter, didn’t so much as twitch. “You did,” you chirped back with that same gentle warmth. It was as if whether Celine rejected you or not, you were happy enough just being here.
Happy enough just being near her.
A truly stupid, childish crush.
Celine sighed, dragging a hand down her face as she tried to work out the best way to handle this. She’d never been good in situations like this. It was one thing to turn down the advances of a pushy fan, but it was another dealing with a fellow idol who couldn’t take a hint.
“How old are you?” she asked.
Your smile widened a fraction, “Almost sixteen.”
Almost sixteen. Great. Wonderful. Hyeon-seo was right, you were practically a baby. “See, that’s the problem,” one among many. “You’re far too young for me.”
“You make it sound like you’re an old lady, not that I wouldn't still like you if you were,” you had laughed—it was a soft sound, just as warm as the smile on your face. “I’m only younger by four and a half years. That kind of gap is nothing.”
“It’s ‘nothing’ when both are adults.”
You just kept smiling, and Celine felt her patience grow thinner. “I don’t care that you like me. My answer is still no,” and maybe the words came out sharper than they had last time, that wasn’t enough for your smile to drop or your body to flinch. It felt like she was talking to a wall. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to join the others.”
That got you to move.
Nodding your head, you’d sidestepped away to give her space. But before Celine could walk away, you’d nudged the roses towards her again.
“At least take the flowers?” you’d asked, tilting your head to the side just slightly. “You can think of them as my showing gratitude and respect towards my sunbae for a wonderful concert, nothing more.”
Celine stared down at the freshly cut, vibrant roses. Wrapped with care and precision, and let her gaze drag back up to your own face, your warm expression, an offering expecting nothing in return.
Against her better judgement, she took the flowers.
As her fingers brushed against yours, she hesitated. Standing this close to you, she could smell the hints of cinnamon and vanilla. You smelled rich and deep, of everything warm.
Before she could let those thoughts spread, she stepped away from you, giving you a tense, curt goodbye, as she strode past, holding the roses to herself as she walked.
She was still cradling the bouquet when she reached the others and slipped into her seat between Mi-yeong and Hyeon-seo.
The two looked at her, staring at the flowers and then at her, but said nothing, only giving her teasing grins and a soft laugh. As if they already knew who the flowers were from with just a glance.
But the way their mentors glanced at the flowers, the way their gazes burned. It made Celine want to sink deeper into her seat.
They waited until the girls had gone through their lines, signed posters and CD’s, shook hands and thanked their fans for attending. Once the last fan had gone and it was only the two generations of Hunters left in the room did the flowers get snatched.
Where did these come from, one had demanded.
Celine kept her back straight, her voice even. Show no weakness, show no vulnerability, she was a hunter; perfection in every motion. That is what was expected of them.
“One of our hoobae’s gave them to me after the show.” A simple answer. Not a lie. She’d only accepted it to be polite, nothing more.
Another question. Another answer. Back and forth, interrogator and the interrogated.
They needed to make sure this wasn’t a scandal waiting to happen that could ruin the Sunlight Sister’s image. They needed to be certain this wasn’t a distraction that would pull Celine’s attention away from her obligations to the Honmoon.
Once satisfied, the three were dismissed. Celine watched as their mentors carelessly tossed the bouquet into the trash.
Pretended that it didn’t bother her.
.
.
.
“Je t’adore.”
Celine paused, turning on her heel to find you lingering behind with the usual bouquet of flowers clasped gently in your hands, smiling and watching Celine like she were the most important person in the world.
You held the roses up, tilting them towards her in offering. “Je t’aime a la folie.” Your smile was borderline cheeky.
Celine shoved the feelings that had begun to rise back down, repeating her mentors words in her head. “When did you start learning French?”
“When I saw you talk about growing up in France in that interview a few months ago,” came your shameless answer. As if learning a whole new language because of some stupid, childish crush, wasn’t crazy.
And yet she had grown accustomed to your brand of crazy.
These last six months you had slowly invaded her life. A phantom on the outskirts, never truly a part of it, but tangled in it all the same.
Seeking her out to deliver her flowers had become a common event. If you were not stopping by in person to deliver them to the studio or her dressing room, you were having them delivered by the flower shop.
You even managed to get flowers to her when the Sunlight Sisters were on tour.
Mi-yeong wouldn’t stop talking about how cute she found the whole thing. How she wished someone would sweep her off her feet like you were trying with Celine. No sympathy or help to be found from her.
Hyeon-seo was more understanding about the situation. You were a risk. A walking bomb waiting to go off. The sooner they could get you to leave Celine alone, the better.
But no matter how many times Celine said no, you bounced right back.
She couldn’t even say you were pushy about it.
Not once when she was with you did she feel like you expected her to return your feelings or give you anything in return. You would tell her you liked her, sometimes you might even ask if you could take her on a date.
But you never fought when she told you no, never argued, never tried to give her a list of reasons why she should give you a chance.
You would only ever offer her flowers and tell her you liked her.
If you were demanding, if you were like the hundreds of men who thought she owed them something because they showed her an ounce of attention, then it’d be so much easier to get you out of her life.
But you didn’t. You were insufferably polite and gentle, and warm.
Taking in a deep breath, Celine pushed her emotions back under control. “You need to study better,” she said stiffly. “Your pronunciation is terrible.”
“Well, maybe if I had a good teacher,” you said playfully, the invitation obvious.
For a brief moment, Celine almost wanted to say yes.
Almost.
No relationships. No attachments. Nothing to distract from your duty, Celine reminded herself, as if those words were a shield.
Personal entanglements would only put everything they’ve worked and fought for at risk. You didn’t understand that, couldn’t understand it.
So it fell to Celine to ensure the chasm between you did not close.
“Have your manager find you a tutor or sign you up for classes.”
As usual, you took no offense to her cold rejection, instead laughing as if Celine had said a joke.
“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you said, giving her a tender smile Celine had done nothing to deserve. “Then, when I talk to you next, I’ll be saying words like ‘bone apple teeth’ so perfectly that you’ll wonder how I got so fluent.”
Despite herself, Celine let out a soft laugh. “Don’t you mean ‘bon appétit’?”
Your face scrunched up in confusion when she echoed the words back to you, your smile finally dropping in your show of uncertainty. “Isn’t that what I said?”
Celine just started walking.
And you, as always, chased after her, “No, really, isn’t that what I said? It’s ‘bone apple teeth’, right?”
.
.
.
Celine couldn’t help but think how strange it all was.
When you had first approached her with a bouquet and confession, you’d been a child. A trainee.
Now you were a rising star of a rookie soloist.
You had grown and changed some in those two and a half years; you had gotten taller, leaner. You were beautiful, of course, their industry would allow for nothing less. And you were just as confident as ever, as if you were born to stand on stage.
That ever-present warmth never left. You still shone as brightly as the sun, a glimmering light wherever you went. It was clear from simply watching you that you brightened the days of those you spoke to. That you made those around you just a little happier, leaving with them a piece of your warmth, a bit of your light.
Your music was no different, as soothing as a sunset and as hopeful as dawn. You invoked joy, highlighted passion and life.
When you approached her on your birthday, it was with roses in hand and that adoring smile across your face.
“No,” Celine had said, before you could even start.
Not that it stopped you any. You had puffed out your chest in pride, citing how you were eighteen now, “We’re both adults, now.”
She had rolled her eyes at you. “My answer is still no,” she said curtly.
They were still both idols with contracts that prohibited dating. You were also both women; a public relationship between you two would sign the end of your own careers.
And you had smiled at her, warm as embers, warm as morning. “I know.”
You always took her rejection in stride, as if you had no expectations that she might ever say something different. But if that were the case…
Then why?
“Why do you keep asking?” Celine demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, unable to bear the mystery that was you any longer. “If you know I’m going to say no, then why keep coming back?”
You continued to smile, though for a moment it almost looked forlorn. “Because I like you.”
“Then you should stop liking me. Move on and find someone who is a better fit.” Someone who wouldn’t spend the relationship telling lies and sneaking around. Someone who could make you feel like a priority in their life.
Shrugging, you stroked one of the rose petals. “It’s not that easy; you can’t just stop liking someone on a whim,” your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, with the hint of a laugh.
“Feelings, who you like, who you love—” you shook your head. “You can’t control where those affections go. If you could pick and choose, the world would be a simpler place.”
That burning light of yours had grown softer. From a radiant blaze to the burning wick of a candle. Warm, but small, contained.
Celine swallowed, pushing down the thoughts and feelings she couldn’t afford to name. “Even if you think your feelings wont change, asking me over and over is pointless,” she pointed out, her voice measured. “I’m not going to say yes.”
“I know. I don’t expect you to, but I’ll still ask every time.”
She felt her frustration become harder to keep contained and buried. It slipped out, showing in her voice and how she clenched her fist. “If you know, then why keep asking?”
You brought your gaze back up to meet hers, your smile growing softer, warmer, an expression of undeserved love.
“I won’t say it doesn’t hurt when you say no, because it does hurt,” your voice was still feather-soft, free of the blame and accusation others might have thrown. It was simple, blameless acceptance.
Holding her gaze for a second longer, you let out a low exhale, releasing the tension that had been building up in yourself. “But it would hurt more if the one time I didn’t ask was the one time you would have said yes.”
Clinging to a small ember of hope, knowing that it may never turn into a fire. But kindling it all the same because maybe, just maybe, one day it might prove you wrong.
“You’re insane.”
You laughed, the tension in the air shattering. “Maybe I am.”
.
.
.
Mi-yeong died and everything fell apart.
Celine didn’t know what she was supposed to think anymore. Not of the crying baby in her arms, of the faint purple patterns curling around her chest, right over her beating heart. The same markings that she’d been taught to kill on sight.
But how could she kill her? How could anyone expect her to raise her sword to an innocent baby?
That’s what Rumi was. Innocent.
But destined to carry the sins of her parents.
As soon as Hyeon-seo had learned what had happened, what Mi-yeong had done, she had left them.
She had held a single press conference to announce her leaving the Sunlight Sisters, and then she was gone to the wind. All she had left for Celine was a single letter.
Don’t come looking.
I will not protect the demon. I still remember my vows, even if you and Mi-yeong have forgotten.
Celine’s heart had shattered.
As much as she longed for Hyeon-seo’s laughter to fill her life again, she could not—would not—put Rumi in danger for her own selfishness.
Celine didn’t know what happened to Mi-yeong’s lover. If he was still alive, or if he had fled the moment he had learned she was carrying. Had not even known of him at all until Mi-yeong’s deathbed confession.
She had never imagined herself becoming a mother, of raising children. But fate could be incredibly cruel. She was now the closest Rumi would have to one.
Through Mi-yeong’s death and Heyon-seo’s departure, the Sunlight Sisters were gone. But their relevancy was surviving through the human need to gossip.
People whispered, theories sprung up over Mi-yeong’s sudden death and the child she left to the world, over why Hyeon-seo left so abruptly, over Celine’s unofficial retirement to take care of Rumi.
Once people lost interest in those questions, the Sunlight Sisters would fade into obscurity, and their music would no longer be enough to preserve the Honmoon.
Briefly, Celine had wondered if perhaps she would be able to make it work as a soloist. Even if her voice alone was not enough, if it could at all help keep the Honmoon sustained until the next generation of Hunters…
It wouldn’t work.
Being an idol and fighting demons was a time-consuming career, and now Celine had a child to raise and protect on top of it all.
A child who, despite what her mentors had ingrained in Celine, took priority in her heart and mind.
A child who Celine had no idea how to care for.
Rumi cried a lot, it felt as if all she did was cry. Celine couldn’t tell if her crying was because she was hungry, because she needed a change or wasn’t feeling well, or if she was just crying for the sake of it.
Slowly, bit by bit, she felt the threads of her sanity fraying as she struggled to keep Rumi happy and healthy.
She felt like she was drowning, and each passing day pulled her deeper beneath the waters.
Nothing she did seemed to matter.
Celine was already failing Rumi as a guardian, unable to soothe and comfort her the way she needed, unable to understand what the source of her pain was.
Mi-yeong would have known what to do. She was the one who should be hear, soothing Rumi’s tears, bringing comfort and joy to the young girl. Mi-yeong was the one who should be caring for and protecting her.
The same thought continued to come back to her, over and over, as she fought against the raging sea.
Celine was the one who should have died. Not her.
“I don’t know what you want,” Celine whispered as she rocked Rumi, hoping desperately that it would quiet her, to no avail.
She had tried feeding her, her diaper was clean, she refused to go down for a nap. None of her toys interested her. Celine was at her wits end.
The sound of the doorbell almost couldn’t be heard over Rumi.
Placing the girl back in her crib, Celine lingered behind just long enough to adjust her clothes and hair before opening the door.
Standing on the other side was a delivery man and a large package at his feet. “Kang Celine?” the man asked, the dryness of his tone saying how little he wanted to be here.
“Yes?”
He unceremoniously shoved his tablet at her. “Sign here for your package.” Once she had, he wasted no time walking away, leaving her to bring the sizable box back into her small, scream-filled home.
She couldn’t remember ordering anything recently, and any sort of fan mail she might still get would have gone through the label.
Still, Celine knelt next to Rumi’s crib and examined the box. There was nothing on the label that gave away what it could be or who it was from. No company logos or brand names that stuck out to her.
Carefully, she opened it.
What greeted her first was a simple, neatly folded letter atop a layer of plastic air cushions. Her name inked on it in familiar handwriting.
Celine;
I don’t think ‘sorry’ is a strong enough word, but even so I am sorry to hear what happened. Mi-yeong was taken from this world far too soon. She was a wonderful person, a brilliant star from the heavens, and her loss will be greatly mourned.
They say you’ve chosen to retire from the stage to focus on raising her daughter; for what it’s worth I think what you’re doing is incredibly brave. Not everyone would choose to abandon their career for a child whose not even of their blood, but I just know you are going to do amazing.
I hope I’m not coming across as presumptuous for this, but I wanted to offer some help. Something of a ‘New Mom Care Package’. There’s no ‘one size fits all’ when it comes to raising a kid, or so I’ve been told, so I’ve gone and asked all the mothers I know for any advice they might have. I hope that you might find something of use in here.
Sincerely,
Your name was signed at the bottom, and nothing more.
Inside, Celine found several diaper packs and wipes, and a few containers of powdered baby formula. Tucked beside that was a soft baby blanket and a simple teddy bear.
Rumi had taken an immediate liking to that, her crying turning into giggles as she began gnawing on its fuzzy arm.
Most surprising was the binder you had provided. When you sad said you had gathered advice, she expected a few sheets of paper, not a thick, detailed, parenthood guidebook. Hopefully it proved to be as useful as it looked.
As she was about to et up and put everything away, she paused, catching sight of one last missed item in the box.
Her heart, traitorous as it was, stuttered in her chest.
Tucked away was a single red rose.
Even now you were still giving her flowers. She could practically hear you saying “I like you” as you always would. With a smile that expected nothing in return.
“You truly are hopeless,” Celine murmured.
And yet… staring at all the gifts you had sent her; practical things intended only to help her without insinuation, a kindness without expectation for debt; she felt…lighter.
She felt a little less alone in this raging sea.
She felt, briefly, cradled in that sunshine warmth that you always carried with you.
Maybe she was the hopeless one.
.
.
.
Celine had never been a fan of industry parties.
They served a purpose, of course. Networking, mostly, but to also keep up with rumors and trends. But at the same time, it had been perhaps Celine’s least favorite aspect of the industry.
Mi-yeong always loved parties. She could approach any group and it’d be like she was with them for years.
Hyeon-seo was always better with talking. She could take control of a conversation without any noticing.
Celine had always been the outlier. The awkward duck easily carried away by the riptides of socialization, preferring to stand aside and let the others handle things for her.
But she didn't have them to rely on anymore.
As much as she loathed to be here, she had to be. Sunlight Entertainment was still a startup label, she needed to secure connections if she was to ensure it not only survived but thrived by the time Rumi was ready to step onto the stage.
And so here she was, hoping her forced smile wasn’t too obvious, while the man she spoke to held her as his conversational hostage.
For the past ten minutes, all he’s done was talk about his own personal achievements as he draped his arm across her shoulders, ignoring her personal space as he went on about how much money his business made this last fiscal year.
Celine so badly wanted out of the conversation. But she didn’t know enough about him to know what the safest way to get away was.
It may have been a few years since she had been in the entertainment industry, but she still knew how petty those in power could be. She had to be careful, navigating conversations here was like navigating a minefield.
“This conversation has been a pleasure, Mr. Kim,” Celine said, trying to remain polite. “Unfortunately, I do have other business to attend.”
“Everyone’s here for business, doesn’t mean we can’t have fun,” the man said, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing waiters tray, offering one to Celine. “Come on, have a drink with me and let yourself cut loose.”
Celine felt her eye twitch, her smile growing harder to maintain when he rudely shoved the champagne towards her. “Thank you, but I—”
“Ah! There you are, Celine!” a familiar, warm voice called out. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air.
A gentle hand rested on the back of her shoulder, and suddenly you had appeared, nudging yourself between her and Mr. Kim, forcing him to pull his hand off her and back away. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
It had been years, since she’s seen you last. Your hair was longer, styled differently, and though it was hard to tell with your heels, she was almost certain you had grown.
You looked older, mature, nothing like the teenage trainee from all those years ago.
Mr. Kim coughed. “Um, excuse me. We are in the middle of a conversation.”
She had to stop herself from correcting him; it hadn’t been a conversation; it had been him talking about himself and Celine doing the bare minimum in responses. But she, wisely, stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry, but I do need to steal her away,” you were as polite as ever. There was a warm, friendly tint to your voice, placating in nature. “It’s urgent business, you understand.”
Without letting him throw in any desperate argument, you had turned and began moving. Your hand was still on Celine’s upper back, not pressing, not pushing, but gently leading her away through the crowds and out of that atrocious conversation.
She hadn’t expected to see you here; the party had mainly been targeted towards individuals more in the production side of the industry. But then again, you were hardly the only idol present. A few others mingled about throughout the crowd.
A smaller, far too selfish part of her, whispered that maybe you were here because Celine was.
She silenced that voice with practiced efficiency, muzzling it and burying it back down beneath the layers of shame and control that had become her armor.
You likely had your own business here, expanding on your own network of connections, or perhaps you simply enjoyed parties likes this and it was nothing deeper.
It didn’t matter why you were here, and it certainly was none of Celine’s business.
You led Celine out an open door leading to a wide veranda. Below them was the obscenely large pool and more drunk party goers around it, acting like this was a college frat party.
“What did you need?” Celine asked, straight to business. “If it’s urgent, you should be seeking out your manager, assuming he’s here. Not me.”
Leaning against the railing of the veranda, you laughed. “Always so serious. You haven’t changed a bit.”
It might have been seen as an insult if it weren’t for the fact that you were looking at Celine with that same level of tenderness as before.
“What happened?”
You raised a hand to wave her off. “The ‘urgent business’ was getting you away from the creep.”
At Celine’s stare, you shrugged, shifting your gaze to the people below jumping into the pool.
“I’m not sure if you knew this, but he’s got a bit of a reputation at these parties," you began, letting out a low whistle of an exhale. "If you’d stayed in that conversation any longer, that hand on your shoulder would have started wandering places it had no place being.”
How wonderful to know. Though Celine couldn’t say she was particularly surprised, she had gotten that kind of sleazy impression from him the moment he had approached her.
“Well, thank you, I suppose. I’d have hated to make a scene because I broke his hand.”
You threw your head back and laughed.
Her heart tittered in response to the sound, and Celine found herself starting to smile—only to quickly smother it before you could notice. A quiet, firm “no” echoing in her mind.
Instead, she refocused her attention to the crowds still inside the building, pretending not to notice your heat beside her.
“I heard you’re starting up your own record label,” you said idly, she could see you smiling at her from her periphery. “Congratulations on that, by the way. Sunlight Entertainment. It’s a good name, a nice homage.”
“Thank you.”
Your smile grew just a bit, spreading that warmth, a radiating light in contrast to the dim night of the party. Your eyes were on her, always, gaze soft and kind. Just like they had been when you had been a trainee, handing her flowers and telling her that you liked her.
For a moment, Celine allowed herself to play with the idea of asking you to switch to her label once your contract was up. But she tossed that aside just as quick.
It was ridiculous to be having thoughts like these, to play around with the idea that your feelings might have somehow gone unchanged over the years. It had been nearly a decade since Celine had last seen or spoken to you.
Celine had moved out of her old apartment when Rumi was around six months old. She'd never given you her new address, nor any way to reach her. She had simply packed up and moved.
A small apartment in a busy, noisy, crowded part of the city where eyes were always on them was no place for a child like Rumi to grow up in. She needed space, she needed quiet, she needed privacy from the flash of cameras.
So, they had moved out of the city, made a home near the seonandang that served as the heart of the Honmoon.
Though she was under no illusion that you would have tried to keep some kind of contact had you known where she went, the end result was that the last she had heard from you was a decade ago.
You must have finally moved on. Perhaps you had a partner of your own now, and your crush on Celine was a thing of the past.
“You’re looking for investors, right?” you asked, your voice soft but still carrying over the pulsating music and cacophony of conversation around them.
Celine did not jump or flinch, but she did feel a tension form in her fingers.
Unbothered, you continued on, “That’s why you’re here, I mean. You avoided these events even when you were an idol. Since Sunlight Entertainment is still in the startup stage, you’ll need to grab investors.”
“You’re awfully perceptive.”
You gave her another unfair laugh. “I try.”
The silence that fell between them after that was…comfortable. More than Celine would have expected it to be.
She had worried that you’d press her for conversation, try to ask about her life, what she had been up to since retiring, or about how she was faring as Rumi’s guardian.
But you asked her nothing. Stayed leaning against the railing, watching those below them have a fun time, your eyes flickering every so often to Celine, your smile growing softer each time.
You didn’t ask needless questions, needle her to talk when she didn’t want to. Like you were before, you seemed happy just being next to her in whatever small way you could.
For the first time since Celine came to this party she felt content. Your presence soothing her nerves.
All the more reason why she needed to leave.
“It was nice to see you, but I really should get back,” Celine said, taking a step away from you, rebuilding that chasm. “Thank you, again, for helping me.”
“Anytime,” you smiled, and she knew you truly meant it. “But…before you go.”
Pushing yourself from the railing, you fell in line beside Celine, pointing towards the crowds still inside with one hand, your other hovering above her back. Not touching, but she could feel the warmth from your hand searing her bare skin.
She tried to ignore how close you were by focusing on where you were pointing. “See the woman over there? Emerald green dress? Librarian glasses?” you asked quietly.
Celine surveyed the crowd and spotted the aforementioned woman. She was a bit older than herself, talking with a small crowd as she gently swirled a glass of champagne. “Yes. Why?”
You stepped back, taking that pleasant warmth with you as you gave her space once more.
“That’s Jun Ye-jin, was the producer of more than a few blockbuster hits. Might be the kind of woman you would want to introduce yourself to,” you explained, your tone was casual, the implication deafening. “She’s very outspoken about being the Sunlight Sister’s self-proclaimed biggest fan.”
Oh.
You were still trying to help her, in our own way. Pointing out a potential investor so that Celine wouldn't have to stumble blindly.
With a warm smile, you nodded your head back to the crowd, a silent 'Well? Go on.'
She’d given you one last glance before she walked off, approaching Jun Ye-jin and trying to work out what she would say to her.
As it were, you had been right. Ye-jin had been more than delighted to meet Celine. It was apparent right from the start that she was still a devoted fan of the Sunlight Sisters, even after a decade.
Once Celine had introduced herself, all Ye-jin’s attention had been on her. They had spent the better part of the next few hours talking; discussing music both old and new, the current trends, and the entertainment industry as a whole.
By the time Celine was walking back to the counter to retrieve her coat and bag, she felt like her entire body was buzzing.
She had an investor.
Sunlight Entertainment had their first real investor.
It almost felt too good to be true—but Ye-jin had been more than eager to invest in Celine’s record label. She had even made it clear, that she wouldn’t accept Celine telling her no, either.
Celine had tried to find you before she left, just to give you a quick thank you for bringing Ye-jin to her attention; she never would have thought to approach her had you not brought her up.
But no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find you. It was clear that you’d already left the party. She pretended not to be disappointed by that.
“Here you go, ma’am,” the man said as he passed Celine her things from across the counter. “Oh, and one more thing for you.”
One more? “I only checked in these two,” Celine said carefully.
“A woman swung by an hour or so ago, dropped something off and said it was for you.”
Her confusion only lasted a moment longer. Her questions answered the moment the man brought up a bouquet of red roses for Celine.
She took it with a show of reluctance, snatching her own heart in a chokehold to keep it from beating irrationally, but couldn’t stop herself from gently cradling the flowers in a way to avoid damaging any of the petals.
Roses you must have rushed to get just so that they would be there for Celine when she left.
There was a single note tucked between the stems, it's plain white a stark contrast to the red, and when Celine read it, her heart almost managed to slip free from her iron grasp.
'I like you.'
.
.
.
It might as well have been that those ten years had never happened for how easily you fell back into the old routines.
At least once a week, without fail, Celine was greeted with a delivery of roses brought to her at Sunlight Entertainment’s main office. Vibrant red roses, freshly cut, wrapped and tied with clear care.
Sometimes they had a small card attached to them carrying those three awful words. Usually they came alone, no note needed for her to hear you softly say “I like you” each time she received a bouquet.
She didn’t understand you. How you could still cling so strongly to those feelings for her despite the years and rejection.
Perhaps you didn’t, though. Perhaps you had moved on from affection, and this had become little more than an ongoing joke for you. Though if it were, it was a joke she understood even less.
Celine gave you nothing, and you still persisted. A bouquet a week, a simple ‘I like you’.
She wished you didn’t. She wished you’d stop. She wished you’d save yourself the pain and heartache and direct turn your attention to a woman who could happily and wholly accept those feelings of yours. Because Celine couldn’t.
She had to focus on her label, to build it up, to make it strong so that when Rumi was ready, Sunlight Entertainment would be her safety net, her armor.
She had to focus on Rumi, protect her, raise her, train her. There was no room in her life for another, for you.
Celine had made a vow when she became a hunter. To her fellow Sunlight Sisters. To the hunters before her, to the Honmoon itself. Her priority must always be to protect the world from demons. To defend and strengthen the Honmoon.
Romance. Relationships. Love. Those were things that she could not have. Didn’t know how to have. They were, as her mentors had said, a distraction. The affection you wanted was a hunter’s downfall.
It had been Mi-yeong’s downfall.
Her heart clenched at the thought, at the memory of her friend, so full of life and love. Of everything she lost because she chose love over duty.
No. Celine couldn’t afford to make the same mistake. Not when Rumi was still so young, not when there were no other hunters ready to take the mantle should she fall. She couldn’t let you be her downfall.
Even so… on nights where Celine found herself particularly lonely, her heart aching just too much, she’d find herself looking towards the flowers you sent her and let herself wonder.
From what she could find when she looked you up, you were still doing well as a singer. Not one of the top artists, but your music and fanbase were still going strong, and you even had a few awards to your name.
According to your Wikipedia page, you had even done more than a few collaborations with other groups, and had been a guest star in a few shows and movies—one of them having been produced by Ye-jin. Celine supposed that was how you had learned she was a Sunlight Sisters fan.
Still; Celine felt proud of your success. You had come far from the “almost sixteen-year-old” trainee she had once known.
Sometimes, she would find herself in the crowds when you were doing a local show.
She had some free time, Celine would reason to herself, justify to herself. You had gone to so many of the Sunlight Sisters shows without being asked, it was only fair that she attend at least one of your concerts in return.
She, very intentionally, avoided looking into your personal life.
Celine had no intention of ever accepting your affection, and so it was none of her business if you were single or in a relationship, and who you may or may not have been dating over the years.
It was not, by any means, because she didn’t like the sour taste that filled her mouth at the thought of you dating someone.
And still, every week there was a new bouquet of roses waiting for her.
And every week she shoved her heart deeper and deeper down.
.
.
.
“Special delivery, from your not-so-secret admirer,” Zoey announced as she stepped into Celine’s office, a familiar bouquet of roses in her arms.
Celine held back the sigh at the intrusion and noise, looking up from the paperwork she had been revising. “Hello to you, too, Zoey,” she said, looking past the young girl to give a polite nod to Mira and Rumi.
Laughing, Zoey wasted no time grabbing the empty vase from Celine’s desk—it was only empty by coincidence, it wasn’t as if she had cleaned it out in preparation for your latest bouquet—and went to fill it with water.
“Just like clockwork,” Mira grinned as she sank into the chair. “Zoey pretty much pounced the delivery man this time with how excited she was.”
Celine offered a hum.
The girls had grown rather invested in this…complication…between you and herself, and not in any way she would have liked. Mira and Zoey especially, once they had learned from Rumi the story behind the regular delivery of roses.
They seemed to treat it as if it were a drama where the leading players go through anguish and heartbreak before inevitably coming together as they were destined to.
She supposed that you didn’t help in that regard.
It had been another decade since your path had crossed hers again, and for those ten years there had not been one week where you did not send her a bouquet.
Usually through delivery, but sometimes you would be so bold as to come to the office and hand it to her in person, along with that sunlit smile as you told her, in no uncertain terms, that you liked her.
“I still think it’s sweet,” Zoey said as she returned, vase filled with water and flowers, placing it back in its spot on Celine’s desk. “Roses every week? That’s so romantic.”
Rumi nodded along, smiling up at Celine with the same mischief she always saw on Mi-yeong. “Apparently she’s been giving Celine roses since her days with the Sunlight Sisters.”
Mira threw her hands into the air, letting out a sound somewhere along the lines of a choked yell. “That like fifty years of pining!”
“Twenty-three. We were only in contact for thirteen.”
“That’s still a long ass time,” Mira shot back, ignoring Celine’s clipped “Language,” as she waved furiously at the flowers. “She’s been giving you flowers, telling you she likes you, for thirteen years. That’s world-class dedication.”
It wasn’t dedication. It was foolishness. Borderline obsession.
You were insane, it was the only explanation for why you would continue again and again, despite her adamant refusal.
“It would hurt more if the one time I didn’t ask was the one time you would have said yes.”
Celine held back a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as your warm voice echoed in her mind. You had said that to her so long ago, surely it couldn’t still apply.
With a pout, Zoey joined the others on the couch, “Mira’s right; she’s been trying to woo you for years. It’s clear she’s crazy for you,” she complained, “I don’t get why you won’t give her a chance.”
“You know exactly why I can’t.”
They went quiet immediately. An awkward, tense silence permeating through the room in response.
Rumi shifted awkwardly, fiddling with the loose strands in her braid whereas Mira let out a scowl. Even Zoey looked a little downtrodden. Perhaps Celine had said it a bit too harshly.
She took a breath to gather herself before looking at her protégés again.
“We are hunters. Our priority must always be the protection of the Honmoon and fighting demons. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by things like this,” Celine said, her words echoing what her mentors had told her, “If our focus slips, then we will be giving Gwi-Ma more openings to harm the people we’ve vowed to protect.”
The girls were still quiet after she spoke. Contemplative. They might have been young, but they understood the gravity of their roles.
Hopefully, now, they will leave the subject alone.
It was Mira who inevitably spoke up first. Always the bolder of the three, the one more willing to speak her mind in front of Celine than Rumi or Zoey.
“Then what about once we turn the Honmoon gold?”
Celine found herself faltering, and Mira seized the opportunity to continue. “Once the Honmoon is sealed, we won’t have to worry about demons again. All this ‘it’s too much of a risk’ talk shouldn’t matter anymore.”
And just like that, the others had snapped back, keenly focused on that one detail.
“Of course! Once we’ve sealed the Honmoon, you’ll finally be able to go on a date with her!” Zoey exclaimed, looking far more excited over Celine’s prospective love life than Celine was.
Rumi gave Celine a nervous smile, “They have a point.”
All three were staring at Celine expectantly, as if their logic was infallible. The naivete a sign of their youth.
“It’s not that simple—”
“Sure it is,” Zoey interjected. “I mean, I get it. You’ve been alone for so long that the idea of getting out there and dating is probably scary, but come on; she’s clearly into you. She’s the biggest green flag!”
“You don’t even know her, Zoey,” Celine pointed out, her tone growing strained as she fought to keep her exasperation in check. “How can you be so certain?”
“I follow her on social media, duh,” was the easy response as Zoey fished out her phone, ready to show you proof. “She’s actually really funny in her posts, and she’s so good at getting really good aesthetic shots of skylines, and…and…huh?”
What was usually the telltale sign of Zoey about to go into a full ramble about whatever topic she had latched onto had instead fizzled out as the young girl gaped at her phone.
Mira and Rumi leaned in closer on either side to look at the screen, their eyes wide.
“Wait, hold on—this isn’t one of those fake headline pieces, is it?” Mira asked, thumbing at the screen to presumably confirm.
Rumi’s eyes were flickering back and forth as she read, mouthing the words. Occasionally she’d glance up at Celine before quickly looking back to the phone.
The way they were behaving, Celine felt a wave of dread wash over her, her stomach tightening into a lead ball.
“What happened?” her voice was stern, keeping back the trembles that threatened to spill out from her veins. When neither of the girls dared to speak, she rose from her seat to tower over them.
“Talk. Now.”
Silently, Zoey handed over her phone, gaze locked on anything that was not Celine.
Biting back the rush of fear, Celine brought the screen towards her, slowly reading through the headline from the article Zoey had up.
The lead ball in her stomach dropped.
.
.
“You retired.”
You tilted your head as Celine’s accusation cut through the air, your smile unwavering.
“Hello to you, too,” You said lightly, offering her the bouquet you had brought as if it were a peace offering.
Celine didn’t take it, her narrowed gaze locked on you as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Rather than going through a delivery company, you had brought the flowers to her directly this time. And so here you were: in her office, being stared down by Celine,
Looking like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“You retired,” Celine said again, her voice quiet, but demanding. “Quite suddenly by the sounds of it.”
There had been no buildup to your sudden departure, no easing into it. You had arranged for a sudden press conference and simply announced to the world that you were retired. Effective immediately.
Just like Hyeon-seo had.
She was gone so abruptly, a single conference, a single letter, and then she disappeared entirely, as if she had never existed.
Celine found herself worrying. Were you about to do the same? To disappear from the world with the same suddenness that you arrived? Was this your goodbye letter before permanently leaving her life?
No, Celine didn’t have any right to worry or fear your absence.
You were not her friend, you were barely an acquaintance; she had made sure of that, had meticulously built that wall between you and herself with her own hands.
You entered her life like a storm, it was only fitting you left it as one, too.
“Why are you retiring?” Celine tried instead, her voice lacking the usual sharp edge she would use. Unable to latch onto it as she spoke.
The way that you were looking at her—it was as if there were a thousand things you wanted to say. Your eyes almost pleading in how soft they had gone. You opened your mouth before closing it, pulling back whatever it was you had been about to say.
“Celine, do you know how old I am?” you asked her after a long stretch of silence, your tone light, still smiling, only the warmth and light had diminished. “I’m thirty-eight.”
She nodded, swallowing back the questions and rippling anxiety that threatened to spill out. “Thirty-eight is still young. I hope you’re not retiring because you think you’re too old to perform.”
Laughter filled the air, and you shook your head, “It’s not that, no,” you assured her. “I turned thirty-eight a few weeks ago, and I found...” again, your words faltered, pulling them back at the last second. You swallowed thickly, “I guess I realized something terrible.”
You brought the flowers back to yourself, letting the roses hide the lower half of your face from sight. But they did nothing to hide the somber look in your eyes.
“I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life on stage. I spent seven years before that in constant training to be on that stage,” you said easily, your eyes never leaving hers. “Of my thirty-eight years, I’ve only ever been free to live as I pleased for twelve. Well, as free as a kid can live.”
“You make it sound like being an idol was terrible.”
That pulled another warm laugh from you.
“Don’t get me wrong, Celine. I had the time of my life being on stage,” you said. “I will never regret those decades, the things I’ve done or the people I met. But it’s time for me to step down and let someone else shine.”
Celine felt the tension still coiled tight between her shoulders mix with an uncertainty for an unknown.
The way you were describing it, it sounded like you were simply burnt out after so many years in the spotlight.
She could understand that, of course, you may not have been at the same level as the Sunlight Sisters had been, but you were popular. It was a busy, demanding career that could suck the passion out of a person.
But even so, something didn’t sit right, it felt like there was something else to it.
“You didn’t need to make such an abrupt exit, then,” Celine said carefully. “You know that’ll only breed rumors. People are going to talk. This is the kind of story the media hounds are going to be salivating over.”
“Let them, there’s nothing they can say that’ll bother me.”
Your eyes grew softer, a quiet sigh escaping you as your gaze shifted to the roses. “Life is short, and there are still things I that want to do with my life,” your voice had been so faint, barely more than a whisper, “things I didn’t want to keep waiting for.”
A pause filtered through the room, poignant, the linger note in a quiet song.
Then your eyes were on her again, and you held the roses out once more. “First among them? That I want to take you on a date, if you would let me.”
And with a snap, the tension had broken.
Celine pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a heavy sigh.
“No,” came the swift, but firm, answer. “I’m not going to change my answer because you retired.”
And always, your smile didn’t falter. It remained gentle, warm, and accepting. “I know it won’t. But I’d have never forgiven myself if I didn’t ask.”
She knew that.
You were still clinging so tightly to that burning ember of hope, clinging to the possible future where Celine might one day say yes instead, no matter how impossible it was.
“I wish you’d move on,” she sighed.
“You know I can’t.”
You had said something years ago about how a person can’t control where their heart went, who they liked. It was why your affections were stubbornly locked onto her. Celine wondered if you found that as frustrating as she did.
Her gaze drifted to the liquor cabinet she kept in her office.
Usually, she wasn’t the type to drink during the day, preferring to wait until after hours to have half a glass. Preferring to wait until she was in the privacy of her home, on those darker days where everything was too much and her self-loathing too loud to ignore.
But right now, she could really go for a drink.
“I suppose I should offer you congratulations and wish you a happy retirement,” she said, pulling the cabinet door open. “Would you like a drink? Consider it a gift for you.”
It was unfair how bright your expression grew at that simple offer.
Celine might as well have offered to give you the entire world with how delighted you were.
“I’d love that.”
.
.
.
A part of Celine had hoped that your time in retirement would have been spent exploring new hobbies. Perhaps travel. That your schedule would still be just as busy.
In reality, your retirement seemed to only serve in giving you more time to pursue Celine.
No longer relying on delivery services, you came to the Sunlight Entertainment offices yourself every week to give Celine a new bouquet.
So frequent were your visits that she was sure that the secretaries at the front desk didn’t even stop and question you anymore, they just waved you on up to Celine’s office the moment you walked in through the front doors.
She had seen them whispering whenever she passed them after your visits, they were almost as bad as her girls in their gossiping.
Once, she had asked why you wasted your newfound free time coming to her than on something you might enjoy more. You had laughed as you tucked the new bouquet into the vase on her desk.
“Why would I? I don’t think there’s anything I could enjoy more than the time I spend here.”
The tragedy of that declaration lied in how true it was.
Deep down she knew that if she told you to leave her alone, to stop coming to her with flowers and confessions, that you would do so without a fight. You would smile at her, thank her for indulging you for as long as she had, and leave.
Even so, she never did.
She let you keep coming, keep giving her a bouquet of flowers and tell her in that ridiculously happy tone that you liked her, and though she told you no every time, she didn’t stop you from trying.
Unable to let the walls down and let you come closer, but unwilling to let you slip away.
Maybe she was just as bad as you were.
“Je t’aime bien,” you had said one particular morning, having caught Celine as she entered the building, but before she’d made it to her own personal office. A fresh bouquet was cradled gently in your hands.
The French had surprised her more than she would have liked, head snapping to your direction, meeting your soft smile and the unhidden yearning in your eyes. “Je t’adore de toute mon âme.”
The words were said smoothly and confidently.
And Celine’s chest constricted at the words, her heart—a traitorous little thing—tightened, beating faster despite herself.
“Your French has improved,” Celine said as response, careful to keep her tone level, neutral. “I’m surprised that you kept at it.”
She’d thought for sure it would have been a phase for you. Learn a few words and then move on.
But, she should have known better. She knew that you were frustratingly persistent when you set your mind to something. A language would not have been an exception.
You bloomed under her simple praise, your pale cheeks dusting pink. “Of course!” came your pleased chirp. “I told you I’d become so fluent you would be asking ‘how’!”
And you had. Your pronunciation was borderline perfect. A marked difference to how you’d spoken when you first began learning the language, stumbling blindly over the words.
“I’ll be saying words like ‘Bone Apple Teeth’ so perfectly, you’ll be wondering how I got so fluent!”
The memory came to her suddenly, and Celine couldn’t react fast enough to stop the small smile twitching at her mouth. You’d been so earnest in both your confusion and confidence.
“You’ve got the loveliest smile, I don’t think I’ve ever told you that,” you said quietly. Reverently.
Quickly Celine schooled her expression back into that unreadable mask, ripping the smile away, shoving the feelings you’d invoked back down, deep below. “If you’re hoping changing your flattery tactics is going to make any difference, you’ll be disappointed.”
“I could never be disappointed when it comes to you.”
You would, though, Celine thought with the hint of bitterness at that easygoing confidence you carried.
You only knew some idealized version of her that you’d placed on a pedestal. You didn’t truly know Celine because she always kept you at a distance. If she stopped and let you know her, it’d be impossible for you to not be disappointed.
Instead of saying any of that, Celine turned and began walking. As always, you followed at her heels.
“There’s a ballet show this weekend,” you said casually as you trailed behind her. “They’re doing a rendition of Swan Lake. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come see it with me?”
Celine didn’t know you liked ballet.
Nevertheless, her answer was still the same. “No.”
“No problem. Just figured I’d offer,” you said, as you followed Celine up the stairs, never bothered, as usual, by the rejection. “Huntrix is coming back from tour soon, right? I hear they’ll be taking a brief break to rest up for this year’s Idol Awards.”
“Their last concert of the tour is next week.”
At the rate they were going, Celine was confident that their show at the Idol Awards would be the one to seal the Honmoon. She planned to take them out on a trip after as a celebration, a vacation where they could relax and enjoy themselves. They had certainly earned it.
“Once we’ve sealed the Honmoon, you’ll finally be able to go on a date,” Zoey’s excited proclamation echoed in her mind.
Celine was grateful she was ahead of you by a few steps as you walked, that way you could not see the sudden rush of heat flooding her face at the memory.
Get a grip, Celine. Even after the Honmoon turned gold, her stance wasn’t going to change. You’d still come to her, proclaim that you liked her—and Celine would continue to tell you no, continue to maintain this carefully crafted distance.
There was no room in her life for a relationship, no matter how much the world seemed to think otherwise. The Honmoon would be sealed, but she would still have too much work to do.
And even if she didn’t, Celine wouldn’t know the first thing about dating, about how to be partner. So why bother when she knew she would only prove to make a fool of herself?
It was just better for everyone if she continued to tell you no.
So focused on her own thoughts, Celine hadn't realized you had fallen further and further behind her until she had reached her floor and turned to see you had only just started on that last flight of stairs.
Celine raised a brow at you, “I didn’t realize you’ve gotten quite so out of shape.” It was only five flights of stairs.
You grinned up at her as you made it to the top, chest heaving , your legs were even trembling. One hand was still held tight on the guardrail against the wall, the other cradling the bouquet to your chest like it were precious cargo.
“Laugh all you want,” you wheezed, pausing to cough into your arm between mouthfuls of air, “but let me remind you I’m retired. I don’t have the same stamina I had when I was a young.”
Rolling her eyes, Celine let out a scoff. “You’re not that old.”
“I’m in my forties; I’m practically a dinosaur.”
“Then what does that make me, then? I am older than you; or have you forgotten that?”
Your response was another wheezing laugh.
.
.
.
Celine used to think the worst day of her life had been when Mi-yeong had died. Now she knew better.
Now she knew that no day could ever hold a candle to the horror of seeing her ward—her daughter—on her knees, begging through tears for Celine to end her. Of her daughter accusing Celine of never loving her. Knowing just how deeply she had failed the child she cared so much for.
She was the reason the Honmoon had broke, the reason Gwi-Ma had almost won. She was the reason Huntr/x fell apart.
Celine had ingrained in her daughters a bone-deep shame, had taught Rumi to hate herself, to hide herself, that only part of her deserved to be love.
In her bid to keep them safe, to keep the world safe, Celine had hurt them, her words cutting them deeper than any knife.
She had failed them in every way that had mattered.
Mi-yeong wouldn’t have caused them all this pain, Celine had found herself thinking as she nursed a glass of whiskey.
The lights of her office had been turned off, a few cracks of sunlight slipping in through the blinds as she stared at the photo of Huntr/x she had framed on her wall. Right beside it was one of the Sunlight Sisters.
She could feel the judgement in their gazes even now.
It had been a week since she had heard from any of them, not since Rumi had left her a text telling her how they needed space. Space from her.
However long they needed, she would give.
She would give them as much time as they needed. It they decided to cut the rot that was her from their lives completely, she would accept that choice.
Mi-yeong would have been able to show them the patience, love, and care they had needed, that they had deserved. She wouldn’t have taught them to feel ashamed of themselves, to hate themselves the way Celine had.
She brought a hand to her face, feeling tears burning her vision, “I wish you were the one who was here,” she whispered into the empty room. She wished she’d been the one who had died.
Would have taken Mi-yeong’s place in a heartbeat if she could.
She drank a little more. Drank down the whole glass of whiskey as if it might chase away her own heartache.
It didn’t. It never did. It numbed her senses, blurred her vision, but did nothing to ease the pain.
The girls hate her. Have every right to hate her for what she’s done.
Mi-yeong is looking at her from the afterlife in disgust, knowing what a mistake it had been to trust Celine.
She had trusted her to care for and love Rumi, and Celine failed. She failed to be the pillar of support Zoey and Mira needed. Failed to give them what they needed.
She poured herself another glass and downed it in one fell swoop.
Your faults and fears must never be seen. It’s so painfully clear to her now how damaging the Hunter's Mantra was. Damaging to her. Damaging to Rumi, Mira, and Zoey.
She should step down as CEO of the label. Transfer full ownership, all her assets and stocks, everything for Sunlight Entertainment to Rumi and let her take over.
Fully disappear from the spotlight. From everyone’s lives.
If she were dead and buried, maybe this pain would finally end. If she were dead, she wouldn’t be able to keep hurting the people she loved. She’d like to be buried beneath seonandang, like the other hunters.
No, Celine thought. She didn’t deserve that honor. Didn’t deserve to be buried at the heart of the Honmoon. She’d only blight the land and tree with her shame.
Throw her to the sea, let there be nothing of her to be found.
A knock dragged Celine from her spiraling. Her eyes burned at the light that filled the space as the office door slowly swung open and the sun walked in.
“Hey, Celine,” you greeted softly, bouquet of roses in hand.
You were too bright, standing there and smiling at her. Why would the sun come to such a terrible, miserable place?
She glared at you, “Why are you here?”
With a soft laugh, you jostled the roses you had brought. “I haven’t missed a delivery yet; I’m not going to now.”
Of course. Your roses, your confessions. Persistently chasing after her no matter how many times she tells you no. Your blind optimism, the way you continued to cling to hope no matter what.
Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach with it. With you. Fury crashing inside of her like a raging storm desperate to drown her.
“Go away,” the words came out sharpy, far sharper than any she’d given you before. Her grip on her glass tightened, threatening to shatter in her hand. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”
Your smile faltered, you might have even flinched.
Then your gaze flickered to the near empty bottle on her desk, and the glass she cradled. “How much have you had to drink?”
There was warmth in your voice still, softer, gentler—pitying, a voice whispered harshly in her head. Even you pitied her. Saw her for the broken, miserable creature she had always been.
“I said go away.”
But you didn’t. You didn't leave. You always refused to leave.
You took a step towards her, slow and cautious as if she were a frightened animal. Bringing that burning light closer with each step. “You’re drunk.”
It wasn’t an accusation, cutting sharp and ripping through her skin. You said it so gently, so patiently, with nothing short of tenderness.
Even as you carefully pried the glass from her hand, pulling both it and the bottle away from her reach, you had done so with tenderness and care, careful to not hurt her. As if she were something fragile that might shatter at the slightest touch.
She hated it.
Hated that you were still being so sweet to her.
Stop it!
She’s been cruel to you for all these years, letting you think you might have a chance, tethering you to herself. She didn’t deserve your kindness. She didn’t deserve your patience.
“Why do you keep coming here?” Celine asked, her voice low, pleading. Borderline hysterical. Why wouldn’t you just let her suffer in peace? Why couldn’t you let her wither away like she deserved?
Her question seemed to have taken you aback by how you stopped. “Celine—”
“There’s nothing here for you,” Celine continued, she couldn’t tell if she was yelling, her throat felt raw enough for it. “What could you possibly want to keep coming back to someone like me?”
Celine’s face felt wet, she could taste salt on her lips, and her entire body was shaking. Vibrating with rage and pain, and a flood of feelings she was too cowardly to name.
You stared at her with that soft gaze she loved despised.
“I keep coming back because I do, truly, like you,” you picked up the bouquet and tilted it towards her in offering once more. “All I want is to take you on a date, if you would let me.”
You had said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Have always said it as if it were. As if you never even needed to think twice about the words that tumbled out. For you, perhaps that kind of honesty truly did come so easily.
Easy for you to stand before her, confessing to her with that damnable bright smile.
You are the sun, Celine found herself thinking.
Impossibly bright, radiating warmth wherever you went, a guiding light for those who were lost. People gravitated around you, thrived under your warm touches, gentle comforts, and brilliant smiles. You chased away the darkness just by existing.
But Celine is the darkness.
She is the cold, dark, lonely night. Danger and ruin, destroyed by her own faults and flaws until all that was left was a hollow shell of whom she’d once been. A poison that spread to anything that dared get too close.
If she let you near, that light of yours would be snuffed out. She would only ruin and hurt you, just like she’s done to all the others she’s cared about.
Like she’s done to Rumi, to Mira, to Zoey; telling them to shove their fears and their insecurities down until it became a rotting, festering wound that ate away at them from within.
She couldn’t do that to you. Not you.
“No.”
Like the countless times she’s told you ‘no’ before, you had only softened your smile, given her that look of understanding. As if you could possibly understand her.
“Right,” you had murmured, resting the flowers back on her desk. “Then at least let me stick around until all this alcohol gets through your system? You shouldn’t have to be alone while like this.”
No, you couldn’t. She needed you as far from her as possible, before you got hurt, before she hurt and ruined you, too. “Leave, please.”
“Celine, I don’t—”
“I said leave,” Celine slammed her hands on her desk, shooting to her feet.
Your smile dropped, that soft look in your eyes had flickered into something more fearful—Celine felt a wave of disgust wash over her. That look should never have crossed your face. It felt wrong.
But if this is what it took to get you to leave her before she could ruin you, then that was the price to pay. What was more guilt for her to shoulder?
“Come on, Celine,” your voice had a tremble to it. Uncertainty. Fear. It stabbed at her heart. “You don’t really mean that. That’s just the alcohol talking.”
Celine took in a shuddering breath, her hands grasping her desk for support, and the words come flooding out.
She choked on them, struggles to breathe between, not even knowing what she was saying anymore as she tore you down.
This was necessary, Celine told herself. It had to be done. It would hurt, like ripping off a band-aid, but in the end you will be happier without the storm cloud that was Celine hanging over you. Better off without her plaguing your life.
You just needed to leave.
You took hold of your own arm, shrinking in on yourself as your gaze flickered from her and to the floor. “You don’t… you don’t mean it,” you said again, but it was void of your usual confidence. “I…okay.”
With a low, shaky inhale, you bowed, bending so low your brow brushed against the edge of her desk.
“I’m sorry for…everything, I suppose. I never meant to be such a thorn,” you said with a sardonic laugh that tore at Celine’s heart. “Thank you for putting up with me all this time.”
As you rose, that burning, radiating light that clung to you had set. You avoided Celine’s gaze as you took a step away. And then another. Slowly backing away until you had reached her office’s door.
“I’ll… see if someone can come check on you in a bit, but…” you smiled, and it was painfully forced. “I get it; you won’t see me again.” For a moment, that smile warmed, grew softer, as your eyes fell on her one last time. “Thanks…thanks for everything, Celine. I really did love the time I got to spend with you.”
The door clicked shut behind you.
Celine stared at it for seconds…minutes longer before collapsing back into her seat. Her heart a war drum in her chest, her body shaking so terrible she didn’t trust herself to be able to stand again.
On instinct, she reached across the desk to grab her bottle of whiskey—only for her fingers to brush against something far softer.
Lifting her head, she stared at the bouquet you had left behind.
She fought to keep the sob from tearing through her as she dragged the flowers towards her, holding them tight to her chest.
.
.
.
Months
That was how long it had taken.
Two months before Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were talking to her again—not like they used to, however. Some days there was hesitation, other days there was raw aggression. She took the brunt of it all the same.
Too much hurt had been done for them to return to how things had been.
But they… they were trying. Her and them both. Trying to be more open. More honest. More understanding. Celine was doing her best to let them take lead. She wouldn’t impose her beliefs or the teachings she was raised with on them, not anymore.
The tension was still there. Wariness on all sides. They didn’t trust her anymore, and as much as it hurt, Celine could not blame them.
It had been two months since she had last received a bouquet of roses.
Celine knew she had no right to feel the ache in her chest, but as one week passed into another with no sign of you, the pain in her chest took root.
She was the one who chased you away. She couldn’t complain when you did as she demanded.
It was better this way; Celine had told herself. She never would have been good for you; you always deserved someone better. Someone who wouldn’t have been afraid to love you.
That last bouquet of roses you had given her, the flowers from that terrible night, had long since dried up and wilted in her vase. And yet she did not remove it. Could not bear to touch it. It stayed, an ever-present reminder for Celine.
The girls had noticed, though.
Of course they had.
They had grown so used to you bringing roses every week for years, it was no surprise that they would notice when those deliveries stopped.
No one said a thing about it, though. Not at first. Everything was still too tense. Too awkward. Was it a question, another wound, they wanted to address when the other lashes were still healing?
It was nearing the end of the third month that Zoey broke the quiet.
“What happened with the roses?”
Celine swallowed, looking at the papers on her desk to avoid looking at Zoey. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes you do,” Zoey challenged back. “Shealways sends you roses, always gives you a new batch before they can wilt and look like that,” she waved a hand at the dead flowers on your desk. “But you haven’t gotten any new bouquets in ages. What happened? Why did she stop?”
Behind her, Mira and Rumi were watching attentively from where they sat on the couch.
For a moment, Celine was tempted to lie. It would be so much easier, so much less painful, to just tell them that you had grown tired of her rejections and had finally given up.
But she had agreed to no more lies, and you deserved better than that.
“We got into a fight a few months ago,” perhaps an exaggeration to call it a fight, it had been her attacking you. “I told her to stop; I told her to…” Celine felt her mouth go dry.
The girls noticed the rise of tension.
Rumi rose from her seat and took a careful step towards Celine, reaching out with her hand. “Celine?” she started, slow and careful. “What did you tell her?”
The shame burned low in her chest.
“I told her to leave,” Celine said confessed, “I yelled at her. I was drunk, lashed out. Said every terrible thing I could think of for her to leave.”
“Why the Hell would you do that?” Mira demanded, almost yelled as she stared Celine down.
Because she was a coward.
Because all she did was hurt those around her with her words and actions.
Because Celine didn’t deserve your affections.
Because she was terrified of what would happen if she said yes.
There were a million reasons why she had done what she did. The why didn’t matter, what mattered was that she’d said those things at all. That she succeeded in pushing you out of her life.
Celine ducked her head low. Avoided meeting any of their gazes as she stared at the documents on her desk.
“It was better for both of us this way. She would have been miserable with me; now she has the opportunity to find someone better.”
It was sound logic to her—but she should have known her girls would not have agreed.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Mira finally rose from her seat, joining the others in surrounding Celine, trapping her at her desk. “It’s not your decision to make on if she would have ‘been miserable’ with you.”
“Mira—”
“No, don’t ‘Mira’ me,” the younger woman cut in. “You’re always like this Celine. Thinking you know best, pushing everyone else away. So let’s make this simple, yeah?” She didn’t give Celine an option to refuse before she had pointed a single finger at her former mentor. “Do you like her?”
Celine said nothing.
The climbing frustration was clear on Mira’s face as she tensed her jaw. “Okay. Fine. Do you miss her?”
Dragging her gaze from Mira to her lap, and then slowly to the wilted flowers, Celine felt her chest constrict painfully. “…Yes,” she missed the way you lit up the room just by existing. The way your presence chased away the cold. The way that you made her mood feel just that little bit lighter.
Mira nodded, clicking her tongue approvingly. “And do you regret chasing her away?”
“I’d hope you regret it,” Zoey mumbled under her breath, only to earn a hard nudge from Rumi and a sharp look from Mira.
The burning shame grew sharper, knives in her gut, threatening to tear her open from within. “I…” regretted the look of pain and heartbreak that had been on your face. How she had smothered that radiant light of yours. The words she had said.
“Do you?” Mira pressed again, snapping her fingers in front of Celine’s face. “Do you regret pushing her away?”
“I do,” Celine said softly.
She felt like a sinner confessing her final sins to them, awaiting final judgement from them.
For a moment, Celine couldn’t help but wonder how pathetic she must have looked to them. She must have been such a pitiable sight.
Rumi took a step closer, looking at Celine with uncertain softness. “Would you undo it if you could?”
Her silence, the guilt on her face, was enough of an answer.
“Then go talk to her,” Zoey ordered, as if it undoing the damage she did was just that simple.
Celine shrunk further under their gazes. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or you won’t?” Mira challenged back. “If you feel bad about what you did and miss her, then you need to talk to her! At the very least you owe her an apology.”
She did. She owed you that and more. But that wasn’t the problem.
Sighing, Celine dragged a hand down her face, “I mean I can’t,” she said. “I don’t have any way to contact her. We never exchanged numbers; I don’t have her email. I have nothing.”
They had only ever met up because you had always sought Celine out. You were the one who reached out, every time. It had never crossed her mind to ask for a way to do the same for you.
Now she wished that she had.
Zoey hummed, looking Celine over as she mulled over the situation. “If you were to get a hold of her again. Would you actually talk to her?”
Her instinct was to say no. To run, to hide, to avoid this problem and hope that the wounds she inflicted on you and herself will fade. But she couldn’t keep doing that anymore.
“I would—” she faltered, curling her fingers in to fists. “I would try. I can’t promise more.”
The silence that filled the office after she said those words was deafening. She waited, tense, anxious, for what response Zoey or the others might have. Judgement, perhaps. Pity, most likely. Pity for their old, broken mentor.
Instead, Zoey clapped her hands together, grinning wide, looking far too excited over whatever decision she had arrived at.
“Then leave it to us!”
Celine raised her head. “Pardon?”
Puffing out her chest, Zoey grinned, eyes glittering with determination. “We’ll find a way to get a hold of her,” she declared, jabbing a thumb at herself. “I get it, Celine. You’re not a people person; you wouldn’t even know the first place to start looking. But me? I’ve got connections.”
The way she had said it, so exaggeratedly goofy, it was hard to tell if her aforementioned ‘connections’ were of the professional kind, or of a far more suspect sort.
Celine supposed it was better to not worry of that detail at the moment.
“I’d like to help, too,” Rumi added, matching Zoey’s determination. “I mean, this is important. If nothing else, she deserves an apology.”
Swallowing the lump of emotions in her throat, Celine looked at the two, “Are you sure?” she asked. She didn’t want them to feel forced or obligated to because of their relationship with her. “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to—”
She was cut off by Mira, a hand raised in the universal sign to stop.
“We want to do this, Celine,” she said sharply, a tone that beckoned no arguments. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not doing this for you. I’m helping so that woman can get some proper closure after putting up with you for so many years.”
Celine nodded, her body shrinking in her seat once more. “Right… thank you. I...” she hesitated, her voice going quieter, unsure what else she could say. “Thank you.”
As the three left her office, they left it in far higher spirits than when they had arrived. She supposed that, if anything, at least there was that. They’d latched onto the idea of seeking you out, of bringing either reconciliation or closure for you both.
She had no illusions that there could be any reconciliation. Celine wanted nothing more than to just apologize to you. To apologize for how she had treated you that horrible night, for all the years she had dismissed and rebuked you. For all the pain she has caused you in the decades you had known her.
But… deep in her chest there was a small ember burning away. A dying flame clinging on to the last strands of life, a quiet, futile hope that maybe…
Maybe she could finally let herself tell you yes.
When Zoey Rumi came to her office, it was without the expected excitement of Zoey loudly announcing that she’s gotten a hold of you, that she’s found where you were, or Rumi’s proud smile of having conquered a new and difficult challenge.
Instead they had slipped into Celine’s office with quiet footsteps, locking the door behind in a wordless bid for privacy.
The look on their faces was of someone who had regretted their victory.
“I…don’t really know how to say this,” Rumi began, avoiding Celine’s gaze. “We found her, but…”
Zoey gave Celine an apologetic look as she slid a sheet of paper across the desk to her.
They waited, quiet and tense, as Celine plucked the paper from the desk, watched as she read over the brief contents. Celine felt her throat close up, her heart freeze in her chest.
“Are you sure” she found herself asking, already knowing the answer.
Zoey fidgeted where she stood, looking up to Rumi before turning to Celine. “Are you still going to reach out to her?”
As terrifying as it was, she would.
.
.
.
The smell of disinfectants was strong as she stepped off the elevator, the melody of beeping echoing from a dozen different rooms loud, Celine could feel the beginnings of a headache.
Pushing the discomfort down, she adjusted the bouquet tucked into one arm, and began a brisk walk through the sterilized hall, quietly sidestepping busy men and women as she followed the signs hanging from above.
Everything about this felt wrong. Her mind kept telling her that the paper Rumi and Zoey brought her had been incorrect. That she wasn’t going to see you here because you weren’t here.
But she came anyway, despite the fear and anxiety, despite how much she didn’t want to believe them.
And there you were.
You were seated on one of the many chairs in the small room, a book on your lap as you slowly flipped through the pages. An IV drip at your side, hooked into your arm.
Celine felt like the floor had opened up beneath her.
You looked… you looked terrible. Your skin pale, heavy bags beneath your eyes, your cheeks sunken—how long had you looked like this, how long had she not noticed because you had hidden it all beneath layers of concealer and vibrant smiles?
She wanted to turn and run. To flee before you could see her. To tell her girls that she had gone but had not seen you. She wasn’t brave enough for this. Not strong enough for this.
But she had to be.
Gathering what remained of her fleeting courage, Celine willed her legs to move.
It wasn’t until she was standing right in front of you that you seemed to notice her presence. You paused in your book and slowly lifted your head, your eyes widening when you saw her.
“Celine?” you asked, blinking as you looked at her, and then to the flowers she had brought.
A moment passed, and your mouth curled up into a smile, a warm laugh slipping past your thin lips. “I think you got it mixed up. It’s my job to give you flowers, not the other way around.”
It had been only a few months, but Celine hadn’t realized just how much she had missed that warmth and light you exuded.
It was still dimmed—because of her—but it was still there. A quiet, soothing sun outlining you. Comforting and radiant in a way only you could be.
“What are you here for?” you asked, closing your book and placing it on the table beside you. Your smile didn’t falter, even if it wasn’t as wide as your smiles used to be for her.
There were a dozen things she needed to say. A hundred things she wanted to say. But Celine found herself struggling on all of them, except one.
“How long?” she asked, recoiling on her own words as she realized how hard they had come out. “I mean… how long have you been sick?”
Your smile grew softer as you looked at your lap, “…I found out a little before my thirty-eighth birthday,” you confessed.
Celine’s eyes widened in realization. “Your retirement—”
“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I was started getting tired and dizzy out of nowhere. Then the pain and nausea. I thought I was just coming down with a flu, but…” your voice trailed off before shaking your head. “Figured I’d retire so I could focus on treatment.”
She felt like she was falling. Freefalling into an abyss. “How much…” Celine couldn’t even finish.
“Who knows. Doctors say it’s still hard to tell. There’s a chance I might come out victorious, chance I won’t,” you dismissed with a shrug. “For what it’s worth, I feel great most days—granted, I am on the good painkillers. But I’m sure I can keep this body ticking for a little while longer.”
She had hoped that you would give her better news. When Zoey and Rumi told her that all they could find was that you were here at the hospital once a week for treatment, she had feared the worst. But your words were nothing short of confirmation for those fears.
You were looking at her again, your head tilted, “Why are you here? You… you kind of made it clear you didn’t want to see me again.”
She had, and she hated that she had.
Celine tightened her grip on the roses, tried to find her words. She had practiced; she had rehearsed what she had wanted to say in her head a dozen times.
But now that she was here before you, she was at a loss.
“I….” Celine began, her voice trembling for a moment before she copied what you had done and bowed low, bending as far as she still could. “I needed to apologize.”
You stared at her; she could feel your gaze even if she couldn’t see it. “Apologize?”
Celine nodded. “I treated you unfairly. I said things to you that were cruel and untrue. I… I hurt you,” she explained, her voice growing softer with each word, with each admittance. “I apologize for it all. I was drunk, I was in pain, and I took it out on you.”
A long quiet filled the air as Celine waited for you to answer, still bowed despite the ache starting to build up.
Then, finally, you spoke.
Your voice was lit with confusion, a genuine uncertainty. “But… you weren’t wrong?” you asked quietly. “I was being a pest. I wouldn’t go away no matter how often you made it clear you wanted me to.”
Celine looked away, the monster that was her guilt thrashing within. “I didn’t mean it,” she said, and closed her eyes to take in another deep breath. “Despite how I treated you, I… you gave me something to look forward to in my life. Your flowers, your visits, they made my days brighter.”
Slowly, Celine sank to her knees beside you, her head still held low, unable to bring herself to look at you directly.
“When you first started, it was easy to push you away. I was twenty, you were fifteen. Then you were eighteen and it became that we were both idols, both women. Then I retired, claiming I had no time for a relationship when my focus was on Rumi,” Celine fought to keep the tremble out of her voice, could do nothing for the shaking of her shoulders. “I came up with excuse after excuse. But at the heart of it all: I was just afraid.”
You said nothing, silently watching as Celine spoke, pouring out her confession to you, a sinner on an altar. Her fears, her faults, all laid bare.
“I was raised to believe I could never have a relationship because of my career,” Idols, demon hunting, there was no time in either life for a romance. That was what she had been taught her whole life. What she had held tight to her heart.
“But… I was afraid. I don’t know how to be a good partner, how to be open and vulnerable. I pushed you away because I was afraid that if I said yes, I would only set you and I up for a greater pain. That you would realize you had wasted all these years, all these affections, on someone who never deserved it.”
You smiled at her, just like you always had for so many years. “I never would have thought it a waste.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And neither do you.”
The silence that was strung up between you was tense, stiff, and borderline uncomfortable for Celine. There were still a million things she wanted to say. Things that she should have said to you a long time ago.
You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head back to look up at the ceiling. “You realize, whatever happens here, I’m still on borrowed time, right?”
Celine nodded. She understood. Hated how deeply she understood. She didn’t care if it was a few months or a few years; she missed having you in her life. Missed the light and warmth you brought with you.
Another low, careful breath, your hand reached out to run through a few loose strands of Celine’s hair, pushing them back behind her ear. “What do you want, Celine? You didn’t just come here to apologize, so what is it you’re here for?”
Celine swallowed thickly at the question.
She still didn’t know what she wanted, not fully. She had spent so much of her life pushing her own feelings down until her own heart felt like a stranger.
How could she tell you what she wanted, when she didn’t even know how to put those feelings to words?
Mind drifting back, she thought of all the times you had spoken to her, the way you so confidently told her your own feelings, your own desires. How envious Celine had been with the ease it came to you.
Maybe, though, that was exactly what she needed. To follow in your own steps.
“Someone important to me once said that life is short,” Celine began, finally bringing her gaze to yours. She slowly forced the words out, pushed past every wall of restraint she had built over the years. “Life is short and there’s still a lot that I want to do with mine.”
She tilted the flowers towards you, a nervous, subtle offering. “First among them…I’d like to take you for a date. If you’d let me.”
There wasn’t a chance for her to dwell on her confession, for her anxieties to rise and throttle her.
With warm laughter, you chased away her fears before they could even raise their heads, the hand toying with her hair moving to rest on her cheek.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you smiled.
Who knew how much time they may have left together. Celine had already wasted away years of it; she didn't want to waste any more.
Hi saw you were taking kpop demon hunter requests and was wondering if you can do a Mira x reader where reader is the complete opposite of her where she’s all shy but when alone with Mira she can be loud please and thank you 🙏🏻
Quiet Afternoons
|| Mira x fem!reader
|| Warnings; shy reader, short drabble
|| Summary; Mira and reader visit their local cafe. Having a quiet afternoon.
Requests open!
Started; October 26th
Finished; October 28th
Tag List; @queriaumpastelagora @wreathedinantlers (if you would like to be added, comment and I'll add you!)
~~~
To say you were shy would be an understatement. In public settings, you tended to stay close to Mira. Only speaking when spoken to. Like today, you and Mira had gone to a local cafe. Enjoying one of the rare few quiet afternoons your famous girlfriend had.
The two of you walked into the cafe, holding hands. Mira had her glasses and hat on in an attempt to blend in with the crowd.
When you got to the counter, Mira placed both your orders. Knowing that you didn't exactly like doing this part. She didn't mind doing it for you, either. Mira loved taking care of you; not that she would ever admit that out loud, of course.
You went and picked out a spot for the two of you. Choosing a back corner by the window. Once she had your orders, Mira came and joined you. Sitting down across from you.
Mira handed you your drink order and you gave her a soft smile. Sipping your drink.
The two of you shared little conversations about anything and everything. In public, neither of you really said a whole lot to each other. Mira respected that you were on the shyer side and didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Besides, she knew that the moment you got home? You'd ramble to her like your life depended on it. And honestly, Mira loved being the only one to really see that side of you.
When you were done with your drinks, you tossed the cup in the trash and made your way home. Once there, you immediately went for the couch. Mira following close behind you.
"As much as I love our dates, nothing beats couch," you murmured. Snuggling into Mira on the soft cushions.
"Mmm, I know," Mira agreed. Her head rested to your shoulder," couch hits different."
"Mhmm," you nodded in agreement.
"It's just like- the perfect comfy cozy place, you know?" You'd then spend the next little while rambling to Mira about how comfy the couch is.
Mira would simply listen, a soft expression on her face. Occasionally giving you a small hum, or nod of her head, maybe even a little remark just to show she is in fact listening to you. She loved your rambling, especially that it was just for her ears.
Summary: Just some headcanons on what it’s like dating the Plastics
Word count: 1.3K (27 bullet points)
Contents: poly!Plastics, bad girl!reader, Shane slander, mentions of violence
Note: HAPPY PRIDE!!!! I have a lot of fic ideas that I’m working on, several of which I’m hoping to put out this month, unfortunately none are ready at this current moment, but I wanted to post something on the first day of pride to welcome this month in and I’ve had these sitting in my drafts for months (technically a year as of March) so what better time to post them than now. A translator app was used a few times in this fic so incorrect Hindi translations are probably present, anyone who actually speaks Hindi please politely correct me on any mistakes. And before anybody asks, which you might not, this is not the same badgirl!reader (same fonts, different people) as my series. That said, I hope you all enjoy!
— — — —
SFW:
This relationship was a surprise to everyone because what do you mean The Plastics, the most perfect girls in school, are dating The North Shore Menace, the leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding girl with tattoos and a nose piercing who’s always causing trouble (the words of one (1) Shane Oman who is obviously so very jealous they’re not with him)
You’re never actually causing trouble, just putting an end to it… in a rather violent manner
Of course, The Plastics are the only ones who know your whole “Menace” rep is a façade that stems from your home life and that you’re actually a major softie on the inside (but that stays between the four of you)
You’re always getting in fights to defend your girls, mostly with Shane Oman (sometimes some of his jock buddies too) who never seem to learn that this is not a battle they want. You’ve never lost a fight 😎, and honestly it’s embarrassing for them that they keep trying, but that doesn’t mean you don’t come out without some injuries. The girls always nurse you back to health after and make sure to thank you with lots of kisses and cuddles.
Possessive. Possessive. Possessive. You’re all possessive of each other (Regina the most) not because you don’t trust each other, but because you don’t trust everybody else at this fucking school to keep their hands to themselves.
To combat this, you got the four of you matching leather jackets. Each of them has your names embroidered at the top and say Property of The Plastics & The North Shore Menace on the back. This only succeeded in making you guys more possessive.
One day, you decided to try something different and showed up to school glammed the fuck up, by your own hand and not The Plastics who are stunned into silence at the sight of you - like I’m talking shiny gold hoop earrings, a thin chained shiny gold necklace with your zodiac sign on it, thigh high boots, a fitted strapless dress in your favorite color that accentuates your figure, and of course your embroidered leather jacket to finish the look - you know, the works. (Shane decided to be a dick and tried to use this opportunity to beat you up… he still lost) Regina tried to convince you to ditch after she saw you, but you refused and the three had to wait till after school to show you just how much they loved your outfit. The next day, there was a campaign going around with a long ass fucking name called ‘Be Like The Plastics and Get You a Girl Who Can Do Both’
Did I mention you have tattoos? Because you do, several of them actually. One arm is a full sleeve of basically your special interests and the other has a few tattoos that the girls designed to represent each of them. You even have their initials tattooed over your heart.
Addicted to their kisses. Regina’s kisses are rough and fast and demanding. Her hands are always either tugging you closer by your shirt or gripping your ass. Karen’s kisses are quite the opposite - they’re soft and sweet and gentle, often broken up with giggles, and her arms are usually wrapped around your waist in a hug. Gretchen’s kisses are definitely a mix of both. They start out slow and soft and gentle, but can speed up and turn rough faster than you can blink, her arms wrapped around your neck and tugging you as close as possible. All of their kisses leave you with hearts practically swirling in your eyes and smiling like a love-drunk idiot.
You never have to pay for anything anymore. They all have more than enough money to take turns buying things for you (look at anything for more than five seconds and it’s yours), but majority of the time Regina is buying for everybody.
Karen, Gretchen, and you always take turns cooking dinner when you spend the night at Regina’s because she can’t cook to save her life, but she is an excellent taste tester so it all works out.
You love to bake, it’s one of your favorite things to do. Cookies, cakes, brownies, muffins, anything sweet really. Honestly, you much prefer to bake over cook so majority of the time when you’re in the kitchen, you’re making something sweet. You’ve got each of their favorites sweets memorized and make them after especially hard days, on special occasions, or just at their requests.
Pet names go crazy with the four of you. You’ve all got different pet names for each other and they are all sickeningly adorable. Regina is Gigi, Gi, and Reg or Reggie by Gretchen, Karen, and you respectively. Gretchen is Mi Sol, मेरा प्यार (mera pyaar - my love), and Chi-chi by Regina, Karen, and you respectively. Karen is Mami/Mama, Ren, and Kar by Gretchen, Regina, and you in that order. Regina calls you dumbass and idiot (lovingly!) and also baby too while Gretchen calls you mi amor and Karen calls you जानेमन (jaaneman - sweetheart).
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NSFW:
Bottoms, the lot of them. Luckily for them, you love watching them writhe underneath of you.
Regina, despite being the apex predator of North Shore and having the three of you wrapped around her finger in public, is the bottom-est of bottoms in the bedroom. The number one Pillow Princess between the four of you.
Regina is a slut for praise and degradation, believe it or not. Call her a good girl and she’ll melt. Call her a slut and she’ll moan, but call her ‘pretty little whore’ and she’ll fucking scream in bliss.
She’s also a brat who needs to be reminded of her place sometimes, and what better way to remind her who’s in charge than a spanking that leaves her ass red, her pussy throbbing, and her begging for release? 😏
Contradictory to my first statement, Gretchen is a switch! Argue with the wall. Not only that, but when Gretchen is in top mode, she’s mean. Again, argue with the wall.
Gretchen loves edging you and Regina. Holy shit, it’s like her favorite thing to do when she’s in the mood - turning the two of you into absolute moaning messes who cling to each other and can’t cum without her permission lest you want to be edged for longer next time.
While Gretchen loves to do the edging, she actively hates being edged herself. She much prefers to be overstimulated and cum and cum and cum until tears are streaming down her cheeks and she can’t take it anymore.
Power. Bottom. Karen. Argue 👏🏼 with 👏🏼 THE WALL 👏🏼👏🏼 Listen, I know Karen isn’t book smart, but I strongly believe she is sex smart and knows a lot about sex. Like she knows what she wants from her partners and even though she’s on the bottom, she’ll guide you or Gretchen on how best to get her off that day.
Karen loves to be ate out. She loves sitting on your face and riding your tongue until her thighs are quivering and she physically cannot hold herself up anymore.
Karen’s got you and Gretchen wrapped around her finger in the bedroom. You two can never tease her for too long before either of you are caving to her demands and giving her exactly what she wants.
Surprise! The first time you guys have sex together, they realize you have nipple piercings, and oh wow, you’re so sensitive there. Even the lightest touch from the girls has you shivering and your hips bucking with pleasure. Yes, you can cum from just nipple play. Gretchen is always using this to tease you when she’s topping and always convinces Karen and Regina to join in (you hate it so bad, but you love it so much.)
Resident munch. Eating out is your favorite thing to do. Your ankles always end up crossed in contentment when your face is buried between any of their legs bringing them pleasure.
Mommy kink for you.
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All in all, while it’s a very shocking relationship to others (and also none of their business really), the four of you have a very healthy and loving relationship together filled with copious amounts of love and happiness.
I know I haven’t posted in a while but I am still writing. That said, those of you who have seen Nae’s new music video how would we feel about a boxer!Regina fic
