ID: Soren, 18+ - caleb enthusiast and rafayel connoisseur
Hello everyone! Welcome to my museum of interests, though it is currently infected by Love and Deepspace. I only write for LADs woohoo! Writing keeps me sane :>
I also draw-I might post art if I decide to!
MDNI, this is strictly an 18+ blog ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
masterlist
recclist(WORKING ON THIS, SORRY FOR THE INCONVINIENCE)
request guidelines(WORKING ON THIS, SORRY FOR THE INCONVINIENCE)
Mall date!!!!
Here's my contribution to the @yourgravity2026 zine! The full (free!!!) zine will be posted on June 12, so please look forward to it <3 Everyone did an amazing job on their works.
NOTE(S): hurt/comfort + pre-established relationship + the LIs are Professional Yearners™️ + use of pet names ('pipsqueak' in caleb's + 'cutie' in rafayel's + 'sweetie' in sylus')
A/N: as a 'i have never dated before, what is love' girlie, this is for my fellow brethren! you are seen and heard, and i gotchu 🫶
you cock your head sideways as you think about the things that he has done for you. "you know, if i were anyone else, i would've taken things the wrong way and assumed you're interested in me."
"you should." he nods. "because that's what someone does if they're interested in you."
you pull your lips back into a grimace. "yeah, so... i wouldn't know about that."
a crease appears between his brows. "what?"
"i said, i wouldn't know about that." you shrug. "because no one's ever showed explicit interest in me before. i guess i've just never been someone's first choice, you know?"
"why would you say that?" the expression on his face turns incredulous, as though you have grown a pair of horns out of your head.
"maybe i'm just not attractive enough? and there's someone more good-looking than me that caught their attention? i guess i'm not likeable." you immediately bite on your tongue and clamp your mouth shut; you have said too much. you did not mean to air your subconscious insecurities like that.
the atmosphere changes, and you need to change the topic before things get too awkward. "sorry, i didn't mean to say all that. anyway..."
— CALEB | XIA YIZHOU
on one hand, he is so confused because: what??? what do you mean no one has ever liked you before??? have you looked at yourself in the mirror before??? are you mentally sane??? do you need to go to an optometrist to get your eyes checked??? for the love of god, there is no way no one (he repeats, no one) has never had an inkling of interest in you before.
on the other hand, can he really blame you? he has been dutifully scaring away every single person away from you. ain't no one approaching you when you have a full grown doberman looming behind you like that.
he is shocked at your self-assessment and promptly says, "you sayin' i don't have eyes, pipsqueak? for your information, my eyesight is 20/20, just so you know, and i know what i'm seeing with my two eyes right now."
takes you on a spontaneous date to get rid of those thoughts in your head. you are the most stunning person on earth, and he will have you recognise and acknowledge that.
— RAFAYEL | QI YU
immediately jumps backward, gasps out loud, and clutches his chest, as though you have just called him a lemurian slur. "what? i beg your finest pardon?"
"nobody is interested in me," you say? you do not know this, but he has waited 800 years for you. he has pined and yearned for you since, what, the dawn of time? try again, cutie!
"i know beauty when i see it, cutie," he says with a frown, reaching forward to cup your cheeks, "and i'm telling you that you're the finest piece of art crafted by adonis himself."
brings you to a closed-off room in his studio and shows you the sheer number of canvases in there, all of which having you as the subject, of course! "tell me, if you are as unattractive as you claim to be, do you think i'd paint you these many times? c'mon, you know i have an eye for art."
— SYLUS | QIN CHE
raises his eyebrow. oh? not attractive enough? those pests must have serious eyesight issues, so it seems. he quite literally cannot fathom your thought process and is confused as to how you came up with that conclusion.
he is also offended. has he not been showing you how much he adores you? should he buy out a luxury goods store or have you be the owner of his black card to show yoh how much he is willing to give you?
"don't be sorry, sweetie." his voice takes on a gentle edge as he drapes his coat over you. "being sorry means you've done something wrong, and the person who's wrong is the one who gave you those incorrect signals in the first place."
brace yourself, he is going to spoil you rotten for the days to come just to prove how much you deserve being someone's first choice. and not just anyone; his first choice.
— XAVIER | SHEN XINGHUI
has two reactions: firstly, he is shocked at how you could feel that way about yourself when you are the strongest hunter he has ever met and someone he is willing to die for. secondly, he wants to find the people who made you feel that way and pay for it. how could anyone make you feel less than? it is unacceptable, because you deserve nothing but the best.
to him, you are everything he could possibly want. you are his first choice — nay, you are his sole choice. every lifetime, every universe, he is only ever going to choose you. so, you telling him that you have never felt like anyone's choice at all — it felt like someone had driven a knife right into his chest and twisted it.
"i'm sorry you feel that way, but you're wrong. there's definitely someone out there who will choose you, and you've just not recognised that yet." there is a soft yet solid cadence to his voice.
you can expect him to amp up his acts of service for you. never felt like anyone's first choice? you will see that you are his choice, and he wants you to see that.
— ZAYNE | LI SHEN
is honestly appalled that you would feel that way. you have always been the confident one, going into situations with such assertiveness that he is sure you have turned some heads. so, for him to find out that this confident person feels otherwise? this is news to him.
you can be assured that you are his first choice, and the exclusive person who has wedged their way into his icy heart. his heart has room for one person, and it is you.
"no matter how you've come to that conclusion, it's entirely false." the way he says it sounds like he is stating a fact and there is no way to challenge it. he pauses, then adds, "i'm certain that you have been someone's first choice at least once."
starts treating you with more intention, attention, and care. after all, you need not look far to find that someone he mentioned; that someone he was talking about happens to be your primary care physician.
roald dahl was antisemitic and misogynistic. george orwell was openly homophobic. edgar allan poe married his 13 year old cousin. dr seuss cheated on his wife (and was racist as well as antisemitic!). hp lovecraft was racist as fuck.
anyways they’re fucking dead it’s not like you’re enabling their behaviors in the afterlife or something. then again I think they bleed into the books so uh keep an eye out for that
the difference between these old white guys and jk rowling is that the former group is all dead. jk rowling is alive and using your money to oppress trans people
im trying to find this caleb fanart on twitter, its caleb in his gym outfit on a bench press pushing up a bar from a delicious angle BUT I CANT FIND ITPLZ HELP ME
synopsis. you’ve been transported into love and deepspace, but you’re minding your business. he's also minding your business.
pairing. NONE, maybe suited for rumored sixth li ever guy
content/mdni. fem!reader, non-mc!reader, isekai!au, barista!reader, world building, no romance, no relationships, HORRORISH, PARANOIA, being watched, being stalked, panic attack, ever shenanigans, just me talking shit.
word count. 1.5k
a/n. idk what this is, y’all, i just wanted to put this idea out there. now i’m going back to studying byeee– please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
imagine you woke up in your room — except it wasn’t really your room, but a carefully constructed counterpart that materialized in linkon city.
imagine everything was the same: the extremely cluttered bathroom shelves, the overflowing chair with clothes too clean yet too dirty to relocate, the always stained oven… even the mismatched lightbulbs from the living room lamp were there, shining both white and yellow.
but imagine the view of your apartment was entirely different.
imagine the old and shabby town you were living in was replaced by something greater. a city you’ve only seen in still shots, a city you’ve gotten accustomed to through background sketches…
in your favourite otome game, love and deepspace.
“no fucking way.”
imagine you spent the first hour just looking around the apartment, then the rest of the evening was given to the city skyline, watching the ginormous buildings, the futuristic architecture, the holographic billboards for brands you’ve never heard before.
imagine you pieced it together slowly, restoring the life you’ve been given with the help of your phone. you were transported into love and deepspace, but not as emcee; there was no glowing evol, no sign of a hunter career, no trace of the five love interests.
you were just… you. an extra. a background npc with a forgettable face, working as a barista at destiny café.
and that was perfect.
you did not wish to get entangled with the love interests, and you definitely wanted to stay away from emcee — their world was too dangerous, too unpredictable. and no matter how much you knew about the game, how many hours you’ve spent collecting memories and reading the lore of the characters, you couldn’t shape your future steps with certainty.
so you made a quiet pact with yourself: you would not interfere with anyone. you would only play your part, watching the main characters from afar.
that in itself was enough — seeing them all interact, seeing them all be happy.
imagine you saw her for the first time exactly the next day. emcee entered the café with tara sometime during the day, and you tried your best to act natural as you took their orders with shaky hands.
then, gradually, you saw them all.
you observed rafayel and emcee taking a walk along the shore, the sound of the waves chiming in tune with their giggles. you watched zayne pause mid-step to tuck a strand of hair behind emcee’s ear near the hospital area. you saw xavier fall asleep against her shoulder on a park bench, his face soft and content. you even caught a glimpse of sylus’s unmistakable silhouette in a secluded alley, helmet visor raised, and even caleb’s boyish grin as he ruffled emcee’s hair outside a convenience store.
you never spoke to any of them. you didn’t need to. just seeing it all was enough for you.
you were their watchful eye.
but imagine something was off.
imagine you started to notice the scribbles that were woven into the buildings around town, curious graffiti drawings taking over otherwise blank surfaces.
at first, it seemed like random vandalism — sloppy spirals, nonsense symbols, an array of colours that made people stop only for a second. but then… it became strange.
letters and words bloomed on the outer walls, graffiti now taking more eloquent forms.
that was the problem. that was what made you stop dead in your tracks, skin covered in prickling goosebumps.
you saw a word in your native language.
“HELLO.”
you stood frozen, pulse stuttering. people were already scrubbing at it, muttering on and on about vandals, but you just stood there, trying to make sense of the graffiti.
imagine you moved on with your routine, but the messages followed along.
a scribble on the side panel of the garbage chute: “KNOW.” a flash of green paint on a train station pillar: “UNDERSTAND.” an elegant curvature on your favourite convenience store: “SEE”.
each one in your mother tongue, each one making you more and more paranoid.
you told yourself it was a prank, a coincidence, a glitch in your own panicked mind.
it couldn’t be anything else, really.
imagine the messages escalated beyond singular words, becoming phrases that clawed directly into that anxious brain of yours. a week after the first “HELLO”, you saw it on the side of a delivery truck waiting at a red light:
“YOU UNDERSTAND.”
your blood went cold, starting in your thumping chest and creeping down to your fingertips. you stumbled back from the crosswalk, clutching your bag like a shield, terrified by the perfect syntax.
it wasn't the language that scared you; it was the wording. whoever was doing this knew things they absolutely should not know.
they knew you were not from this world, they knew you were an outsider that had no business being here.
imagine you started taking different routes to destiny café, weaving through back alleys and less crowded areas, your head perpetually low.
the city, once a breathtaking panorama of your favorite fictional world, now felt like a cage lined with watchful eyes. the holographic billboards that had once charmed you now seemed to flicker ominously.
you avoided looking at reflective surfaces — shop windows, polished cars, the dark screen of your phone. you were terrified of seeing someone standing right behind you, someone that shouldn’t know you were in linkon city.
imagine the paranoia began to manifest physically. you were sleeping less, picking at your food, flinching at sudden noises. the cheerful chime of the café door sounded like a warning bell.
heck, the friendly chatter of customers felt like a coded message, and you somehow convinced yourself everyone was discussing you.
you were slowly losing your mind.
and imagine you saw emcee that day. she walked up to the counter with her familiar smile, ordering her usual, overly complicated coffee concoction. you focused on her, trying your best to loosen up. make small talk. act normal.
you are a barista. she is a customer. this is a transaction.
nothing bad was going to happen.
she is emcee. she is safe. and so are you.
“rough day?” she asked when she returned at the pick-up station, tilting her head, scanning your face with genuine worry.
you managed a weak laugh, wishing to conceal your uneasiness, hands pushing forward the iced cup of coffee. “just tired. here’s your drink.” you muttered back, holding up her mug for her to take.
but imagine you were wrong.
imagine something bad did happen.
as you looked at emcee, you saw it: the entire wall of the building directly across the street was no longer the muted gray you remembered. it had been transformed overnight into a single, massive mural, clearly visible through the huge window of the café.
it wasn't art.
it was a sentence, painted in dripping, blood-red letters, so large you could read them from behind the counter, from the depths of your own impending doom.
the letters were in your mother tongue.
“I’M WATCHING YOU.”
followed by your actual name.
the coffee cup slipped from your grasp.
the ceramic shattered against the tile floor with a powerful crack, sending a hefty quantity of iced coffee on your apron and the lower half of the counter. the sound was deafening in the cheerful bustle of the café, putting everything on pause.
every conversation halted. every head turned. emcee flinched, her smile dissolving into confusion.
all eyes were on you.
imagine the sudden weight of all those eyes, all focused on you. the words from the graffiti echoed louder and louder in your skull, syncing with each panicked beat of your heart.
watching. they were all watching.
your coworkers, the customers, the old woman by the window, the child tugging at her mother's sleeve. emcee, her hand halfway to her mouth, her brow furrowed in concern.
were they in on it? were they aware you were fake? an outsider?
the walls felt like they were closing in, the cheerful café lighting suddenly harsh and interrogatory. the message wasn't just on the building anymore; it was in the glint of every eye pinned on your trembling form.
imagine emcee took a step towards you, her expression shifting into concern. “hey, are you okay? you look really pale–”
you didn't hear the rest of her sentence. you couldn't breathe. you couldn't think. your mind was screaming at you to get away.
get away. they can see you. they know you.
you shoved through the swinging staff door, not stopping until you reached the back door leading outside. you collapsed against the closest wall, sliding down next to the stuffed garbage bins and curling into yourself, pushing your face between your knees and letting it all out.
imagine the sobs came in gasping, ugly cries that you muffled with your stained apron, fear shaking through you.
you were not safe. your decision to keep your distance, your role as a background extra — it was all an illusion.
someone had been tracking you, studying you, learning your secrets.
you were not an observer anymore. you were the observed. you were a target in a story you thought only you watched from outside, but you were proven wrong.
he knows of your existence, but you didn’t know of his.
tags: @yuunileb, @txtworlddom, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @gardenialily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl, @happyshark2222, @velomira, @darkchococwoissant, @remnantsofgildedcages, @starswillseeus, @ninalove323, @lumichella, @amanehyuga, @txtworlddom, @milumier, @someonestopsoren, @lettushi, @jadeloverxd, @hellothisisnanaaa, @ops-esion, @remnantsofgildedcages, @maplewood-valley, @massivebanananut, @livanavier. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
summary: man-hater!reader x down bad!caleb. basically just Caleb groveling for reader's attention
tags: slow burn, college au, x reader, fluff, mild stalker!Caleb, VERY mild angst. Not proofread. Lmk if I missed anything!
wc: 2.4k
part 1 part 2 part 3
"What?"
Caleb stands there, looking down at you with a small smile.
"I know you don't like me yet. I'm not expecting an answer. I'm going to change your mind," he says, slowly lowering himself to sit across from you.
You blink at him. "What?" you say again, immediately berating yourself internally for the stupid response. He laughs, motioning towards the bag of food.
"You should eat, yeah? It's not gonna be as good when it's not fresh."
Hesitantly you take out the boxes, opening them and beginning to eat. You try not to make contact as he watches you the entire time. Unfortunately, it becomes aggravating very quickly.
"Stop looking at me, you freak." you mutter, glaring at your sushi.
Seemingly undeterred, he chuckles, standing up and brushing himself off.
"You won't get rid of me so easily, pipsqueak. I'll see you later."
Your head snaps up, a terrifying expression on your face.
"The fuck did you just call me? Don't ever do that again."
He laughs again, walking away with far too much satisfaction for someone who just got scolded by the girl he likes. You sit there in shock at the sheer audacity. What the hell was his problem? Feeling beyond irritated, you pack up your things and throw away the remaining uneaten food. All your appetite is gone. Perhaps the food he gave you was tainted with his bothersome presence.
Meandering along the grass, you scroll through Instagram. It seemed people were enjoying the weather that was starting to heat up. Aimlessly liking posts brings you to a profile you haven't seen before. The username was a keyboard smash, and the profile picture was empty. You open it, curiosity overtaking you. The account was discreet, not following anyone and with zero followers. No posts, no stories, no likes. It must be someone's alt account, you think.
Thinking nothing of it, you scroll away. As the sky starts to darken and the sun starts to dim, you make your way to your apartment. Stepping inside, the warm atmosphere greets you. A sigh of relief escapes you. When you had been furnishing the place, you had opted for soft fairy lights and lamps around the room rather than the overhead light. The kitchen is as messy as you left it in the morning rush. Choosing to save that for tomorrow, you flop down on the couch and pull your phone out again.
1 new notification.
A new follower on Instagram. It's the blank account from before. Frowning, you look at it again. You were its only followed account. There was seemingly no other activity on the account whatsoever. You assume it's a bot of some kind, sighing and powering off your phone.
Leisurely stretching out like a cat, you slowly stand and pad to the kitchen. The fridge is depressingly empty, and the pantry severely under-stocked. A ping comes from your phone. You rest your elbows on the counter, turning the screen over and checking your messages.
Tara: Sooo…How did it go with Caleb? 😛
You: Oh my god. You set it up didn't you?
Tara: You caught me. Now spill!!!
You: He's annoying as shit. he called me "pipsqueak"
You: What kind of weird nickname is that? Seriously. 😒
Tara: lmao. Do you really hate him that much? He's been so nice to you
You: you know me. no man gets sympathy from me
Huffing, you plug your phone in to charge in the kitchen and make a sad dinner consisting of instant noodles and leftover takeout. Settling onto the couch, you open up your laptop. Clicking into Netflix, you put on a mindless show as you eat. It doesn't take long for your eyelids to grow heavy. Leaning back, you close your eyes for just a second…
Unfortunately, it was not just a second. Falling asleep without setting your alarms led you to waking up an hour late for class, by which point you were unsure if it was even worth going. By the time you got there, it would probably be almost over. The laptop you left open had died overnight, and your food was cold. An ache in the side of your neck from the awkward sleep position was giving you the beginnings of a headache.
With great effort, you lift yourself off the couch, shuffling to the bathroom. After taking a much needed hot shower, you start blow drying your hair. You get it to a damp texture before applying leave in conditioner. Deep in thought, the sound of the doorbell startles you, causing you to accidentally yank your hair. Who could it possibly be? I haven't ordered delivery or a package of any sort.
Reaching the front door, you stand on your tiptoes and check the peephole. Your eyes widen, taking a step back. What the fuck? How did Caleb get your address? Once again, the audacity makes you stop in your tracks. What made him think he could show up uninvited? Rolling your eyes, you walk away, far too tired to deal with his bullshit.
"I know you're in there! I brought you breakfast. And you missed class today, and I didn't have a way to contact you. We got partnered up," he calls from outside.
You run a hand down your face in aggravation. Jesus. As if the morning could get any worse. Slowly, you turn back around, opening the door a crack and glaring at him through it.
"Partnered up for what?" you ask, your voice making your displeasure obvious.
"A presentation," he offers, smiling far too enthusiastically for your liking.
"Are we allowed to switch partners?" you inquire bluntly.
His smile falters a bit, but he shakes his head. He holds out the container in his hand.
"Tara told me you don't cook for yourself most of the time. Sooo, I was worried you weren't eating well. I made you breakfast."
Perplexed, you snatch the container and slam the door in his face. Once it's shut, you groan. Of course, you just so happened to be paired with him of all people. The people in your class were all decent as far as you knew, but nooo, it had to be him. Now, your next course of action was to get Tara to block him. Shoving the container in the fridge without looking inside, you pick up your phone and dial Tara immediately. It rings twice before she picks up.
"Hey girl! Did you sleep in again today? I didn't see you on campus."
"Block Caleb." you demand.
"That bad?" she laughs. "Okay, okay, I will. But I will say he probably has most of the information he wanted by now."
"Tara!" you exclaim indignantly, taking your phone away from your ear and hanging up. You shuffle around the kitchen, washing your dishes and muttering to yourself angrily.
By the time it's late afternoon, you're starting to feel the effects of missing breakfast. Opening up the fridge, the container Caleb gave you seems to stare you down. Sighing, you take it out. Considering the empty state of your kitchen, it was probably your best option for food. You open it up, setting the lid aside and bringing a fork. Two perfectly toasted waffles with jam and bright red strawberries and raspberries on the side. A small square of chocolate sits next to them. Hesitantly you section off a piece of waffle, stabbing it with your fork. Unfortunately for you, it seemed he was good for something. Although it was cold, the waffle was the perfect texture between crumbly and soft, and the jam was the kind you liked. You shake it off. It has nothing to do with him. It's not like he made the waffles from scratch. He probably just used a good waffle mix.
Despite the mild annoyance permeating each bite, you end up finishing both waffles and the berries. A bit disgruntled by the fact that it actually good, you toss the container into the sink. Remembering the state of your fridge, you get dressed in comfortable pants and a T-shirt before taking your keys and phone. Stepping outside of the apartment building feels nice, a light breeze shuffling the branches of the asiatic apple trees nearby. It's relatively empty outside despite the nice weather, everybody at work or school. The walk to the grocery store is peaceful, the fresh air clearing your head.
Just like the streets, the store is pretty empty, only a few people milling about. Adjusting your jacket, you set off to do some much-needed grocery shopping.
Caleb scrolled through your Instagram, taking note of every post. A specific man shows up next to you a couple times, which had concerned him, but after looking into it, he figured out it was only your brother. He noticed the specific restaurants you tagged in your posts, the specific foods, the kinds of places you liked to visit.
God, you were gorgeous. He stops at a photo of you at the beach, hair down, a faint sunburn across your cheeks. The sunset behind you cast you into a golden light. He felt almost blinded by the smile on your face. If only you smiled like that at him.
Newly determined, he switches to his actual account and clicks "message" on your profile.
Hey! I thought we should have some way of contacting each other for the sake of the project. may I have your phone number? :p
After reading it a couple times, he finally presses send, letting out a breath and setting his phone aside. He missed you. Caleb remembered the day he first noticed you like it was yesterday. It was a Tuesday, and the weather was cloudy and cool. Basketball practice was going as usual, and just as he was about to score, he saw you.
He shot the ball without looking. It hit the rim and bounced away. You were laughing at something your friend said, holding onto her arm. He wondered what she said. Could he make you laugh like that some day? Seeming to feel someone's gaze on you, you turned your head, and Caleb immediately turned away, his heart pounding out of his chest. No fucking way. Did he just get a crush?
Caleb smiles as he replays it in his head. You looked really pretty. You always did. It was honestly embarrassing the way he thought about you. Sometimes he imagined you laughing at his joke, or how when he finally asked you out, you'd smile and say yes. His daydreaming is interrupted by the the ping of his phone. He scrambles to grab it, opening up Instagram. However, Caleb's excitement is quickly cut short when he sees your response.
No
He deflates, thinking to himself. He would normally have asked Tara, but she had blocked him. He could only assume you had told her to. Caleb shifts around a bit, looking at the people you tag in your posts. Clicking on one of the usernames, he reaches out to her. He types out a short message just about begging for your number, setting his pride aside. Crossing his fingers, he sends it. A sponsored email pops up in his inbox. He clicks on it on accident, rolling his eyes and blocking the email. As it exits out, his eyes fall on his last sent email.
Subject: Partner Assignments for Pop Culture Presentation
A small smile tugging at his lips, he closes out the app and sets his phone to the side, standing up to make lunch.
When deciding to walk to the store, you had forgotten to consider the volume of groceries you would bring back. Consequently, you had to lug four heavy bags to your apartment. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You groan, ignoring it and continuing your trek down the street. After an excruciating fifteen minutes, you make it to your apartment building, spamming the elevator call button.
Getting back home was a relief, to say the least. You drop your bags on the floor and move to the couch again, throwing your arm over your eyes. Suddenly remembering your phone, you take it out. Your brow furrows. It's a text from an unknown number, although it's not unknown for long.
Heyy! this is caleb :p I know you said no to giving me your number, but i couldn't help myself XD
You know, I was serious when I said I would make you change your mind about me. maybe it'll take a while, but i won't give up
"Holy shit, who gave it to him this time?" you groan, running a hand through your hair. You consider just blocking him, but after contemplating, you sigh in resignation and open his text.
Don't text me unless it's related to the project
You create a new contact and name it "Nuisance (DNI)" before turning off your phone and tossing it to the side carelessly. A response comes in almost immediately. You choose to protect your peace and move to unload your groceries. Surveying your ingredients, you think about potential dinner plans. Actually, cooking didn't sound very appealing, but you didn't have much of a choice. After having spent too much money on take out last week, your bank account was in a poor state.
The warm aroma of stew started to fill your kitchen, wrapping around you in a comfortable embrace. It's been some time since you had made a real meal and not a quick fix. Eventually, you sit down at the kitchen counter, serving yourself a bowl and starting to eat. To your own surprise, you find yourself thinking about Caleb. Not with any affection, of course.
What could possibly be his motive? There's no way he was just..like this. There's never been someone who pursued you like this without an ulterior motive. Surely he wanted something in return.
With new resolve, you put your dishes away and grabbed your phone. While you were gone he had typed up a storm.
I'll do my best 🫡
no promises tho :p
Have you eaten dinner yet?
Can we meet soon to work on the project
You roll your eyes. Did he really not have anything better to do?
Meet me here in an hour
You send the location of a nearby coffee shop and set your phone aside. It wasn't hard to figure out potential ones, of course; you weren't stupid. All men wanted the same things. Regardless, you would tenaciously prod at him until he confessed. You were determined to find out his true intentions.
a/n: so originally part 2 was supposed to be a bit longer, and also a part 3 was supposed to be added on top of that. But I've been writing rather slowly recently, so I decided to just post what I have now and post the rest in the final part. Again, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!!
the clip of Caleb’s VA voicing yuji saying “punk ass bitch” has been on loop in my mind ALLLLLL DAYYYYYY NGHHHHH i need him soooo bad … he says that to a guy after breaking his nose for smiling at you ☺️☺️☺️
the clip of Caleb’s VA voicing yuji saying “punk ass bitch” has been on loop in my mind ALLLLLL DAYYYYYY NGHHHHH i need him soooo bad … he says that to a guy after breaking his nose for smiling at you ☺️☺️☺️
