#celine x reader

Mira tightened her grip on the collar of your shirt and used her core strength to try and move closer to where she was sitting in between your legs, her thighs on top of yours. The hands previously teasing her thighs shifted to her waist to aide her movements, and raised her so she sat on your lap completely.

"We can't do anything" she had whispered the first instant your lips came into contact with her neck, claiming she had to go out for work in a hour and couldn't waste time. You tried to argue that an hour was plenty of time for what you had in mind. Mira just shut you up with a kiss, negotiating that you could do whatever you wanted with her when she came back if you stopped at just kissing.

You felt like you already went a bit beyond just kissing, but she hadn't stopped you yet, and you weren't about to shoot yourself in the foot by asking if this still counted.

However she was making it really difficult to resist her. With her warm body against yours and her quick breathing and your pants slipping off her hips every time she moved closer.

If it had been for you, you never would've moved away from your goddess of a girlfriend. So when she felt your lips were off her skin for a second (as you were about to push your luck and move your kisses to her exposed stomach) she used that window of opportunity to regain control of her body and gently grabbed your jaw. The model didn't give you time to argue as she kissed you. As if to shut you up, as if she could sense your discontent (she definitely could).

When the kiss ended - not your call - Mira leaned back and bumped her nose against yours, letting out a satisfied sigh.

The hand moved from your jaw to your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone as her eyes met yours. And despite being the one who did most of the touching and kissing, your blissed out expression was very similar to Mira's. There was nothing you could do about it, your girlfriend just had that effect on you.

Your thumbs kept playing with the fabric of her clothes. This time not in a teasing manner, but to feel her there, close to you. Then your eyes fell on her throat, where your teeth and tongue had recently been, half hoping she'd cancel whatever duty she had to stay here with you. Mira, seeing your gaze fall downwards, smirked to herself and almost teased you for it. Until realization dawned on her.

"Wait" she gasped, slapping your shoulders to get your attention "you didn't leave any hickeys, right?"

Your mouth opened, unsure of what to say "I-"

She took your silence as an answer and jumped off your lap "no no no"

You saw her bolt out of bed and run into the private bathroom. She seemed to assess the damage while you sat still on her bed, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers. Until she screamed.

"What did you do?!"

You jumped at her voice, Mira never being one to yell from one room to the other (or in general, really). She came back running, pointing at her neck with the urgency of someone who had grown horns overnight and wanted you to take them out.

"Why would you do that? told you I had a thing"

"oh right, the thing" you nodded, the thing she had for work but wouldn't tell you what. You tried asking her what 'the thing' was, but after being told you couldn't know, you didn't ask again. You knew there were things she couldn't tell you, either because of her contract or simply because she wanted to surprise you.

But still, you didn't understand why she was losing her mind over a single (or maybe a couple) hickey.

"okay, I'm sorry. But honestly?" You leaned back on your hands (and in retrospect, you probably should've stopped at the look in her eyes) "Why can't you just wear a turtleneck or something? Rumi has plenty" you suggested after a second, knowing that kind of clothing wasn't really your girlfriend's style.

"Why??" Mira balled her hands into fists, trying to contain all her rage - and panic - into the tips of her fingers, instead of unleashing it and hurling it towards you "Why couldn't you just stick to kissing like we said" she turned around to look at her reflection into the window "but no! You just had to do what you wanted, didn't you?"

Your jaw clenched and unclenched, still sat on the bed while your girlfriend frantically moved around, genuinely confused by her outburst, it was not like she never walked around with your mark on her before. But despite not knowing what caused that reaction- you weren't about to let her deal with it on her own.

You got out of bed, and turned Mira away from the window. Hands reached for her own as a soft kiss was left on her knuckles, the action making the tension in the model's shoulders quieten the tiniest bit. She closed her eyes at the feeling of her cheeks being engulfed by the warmth of your hold, and let out a much needed breath when you passed your thumb over her eyebrows, to get rid of the remaining stress.

"Honey" you whispered the pet name she was most fond of - despite her voice being momentarily stripped of the calming and low tone that earned her the name in the first place "I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that bad"

A few words in and Mira was already willing to cry, being listened to, having her feeling being taken into consideration and having someone apologize to her - especially when she just stopped yelling and behaving like a lunatic (as her parents would call her) for something so stupid, no less (as her parents would describe it) - was always going to be new for her, and hard to accept without a dumb joke or a sarcastic comment to downplay it.

You didn't move further, but you felt her hands grip your shirt at your elbows "Is that a reason why it's so bad to have hickeys this time? Is there a reason why covering them up is not an option?"

She took a deep breath, and took a step back. Not an emotional move, but a physical one, so she could see you better "I just- I have a photoshoot later"

Your lips parted but only air came out. You were starting to see it from her point of view, but that still wouldn't explain-

"An underwear photoshoot"

Oh.

So that's why. Sure, it made sense.

Your hands faltered on her cheeks, adding to the shakes as Mira started giggling. Forgetting anything beside this moment. "You have a..underwear- underwear photoshoot" you finally closed your mouth to speak "I'm sorry" your brain tried to catch up with your racing thoughts, but it just couldn't "I didn't know- why- why didn't I know?"

The model almost laughed at your expression, brows furrowed and cheeks red, like you were trying so hard to be mad at her but your brain was somewhere else (she was right). She removed your hands from her face, letting them hang in the air as you still wouldn't move, and moved to the center of the room.

But as much as she wanted to act tough, like she didn't care, the only reason she moved away from you in the first place was to try and hide the blush covering her ears (it didn't work of course, because you could always guess how she was feeling by her tone alone) "Because I wanted it to be a surprise"

She turned around, facing your back this time, and crossed her arms.

"So thanks a lot for ruining it" she mumbled as an afterthought, almost trying to shift the conversation on your mistake and make you forget her 'sappy' plan.

You didn't fall for it. Mira could tell by the look in your eyes as soon as you turned around. A smile she wished she could wipe off your face (with a kiss, preferably. or two, if needed)

"Okay, I'm sorry again" your hands held Mira's once again, you couldn't help it, their warmth just drew you in every time "maybe, you can talk about it with the girls?"

"Yeah right, tell them that my partner gave me so many hickeys I can't do the photoshoot anymore" she rolled her eyes

"I'm not- I'm not saying that" you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress your laughter, and saw Mira's smirk grow, her way of keeping her giggles in "But maybe you can ask them to do your makeup so you don't have to tell anyone else. I mean, better the girls than the photographer, right? Or uh..Bobby I guess" you shivered at the thought, and Mira did too, the image of her father figure (even though she would never call him that) seeing her hickeys and having to explain how she got them? Worse than hell.

While her head was raised to the ceiling in a groan you laid yours on her shoulder and, without thinking, she circled her arms around your neck. Bringing you even closer.

"Can I come too?" the arms wrapped so securely around you were now so rudely pushing you away "pleasee! I wanna see you"

"No way!" she resisted your attempts to get back into her arms, as if basking in your warmth for a second longer would make her cave in "You already ruined the surprise. I'm not letting you see me during the shoot too"

If convincing her with physical touch was out of the question, you decided to try with a pout- one you both knew she couldn't resist. But sometimes, things just don't go how we want them to.

"No no! Don't even think about it" she put a hand on your face, effectively blocking your pout from reaching her "That's it. I'm going"

"Wait, come on" you saw her hurriedly put some clothes on and prepare her bag "you said you had to leave in an hour?"

To shut you up or because she couldn't leave the house without it, she grabbed your face to leave a quick kiss on your lips.

"I like to be early!" and with that said, she was out of the door.

Zoey

Zoey was chaos, you knew it. Your first impression of her was a hurricane trapped in a body too small to contain it. And that never changed. You got used to it when you became friends, and grew fond of it when she became your girlfriend.

So being woken up to the sound of the door bursting open and being slammed shut was nothing new to you. You signed up for these types of things every time she invited you to sleep in her room. Still, the sound made you raise your head from your pillow, looking up as your girlfriend stood next to the bed. Arms crossed and pout on her face.

"Baby!"

Your thumb and index finger rubbed against your eyes to get rid of the remaining sleep. Not recognizing her angry tone as such because of your state, you just smiled back at her "hi Zo, you're back already"

"No, you just slept all morning"

"Uh" you turned your head to the alarm clock on her nightstand to see it was almost lunchtime, and you hadn't had breakfast yet.

Zoey has never been an early bird, and whenever she had a meeting or training - or anything she considered boring and 'not worth waking up for' - you had to pry her out of bed (bribing her with snacks or kisses were easy wins, but picking her up bridal style and moving her around the room so she could get ready in your arms also worked); so your routine usually consisted of waking up ten minutes before Zoey had to, using that time to try to get her to open her eyes, wasting half an hour to convince her to get up, and another half hour for her to actually get ready. So god forbid you liked to go back to sleep once she got out.

You sat up on the bed and raised your arms in a tight, satisfying stretch, a sound between a moan and groan escaping your lips. Zoey didn't move from her position, she should be mad, mad at you, but she was nothing but a simple girl. It was not her fault she was weak to the sound you just made, or how the shirt rose with the movement and showed her a glimpse of your bare stomach, or the waistband of your underwear, or how your arms flexed above your head-

She had to snap out of it. She had to focus.

"You don't know what you did, did you?"

You stopped mid-stretch, letting your hands hang in the air, mouth open as you tried to recall what might have caused that reaction. You slept until she came into the room so it couldn't have been anything you did today, and yesterday the two of you slept together (in both senses of the word) and she never mentioned anything being wrong. So, truly, you were lost.

You shook your head in resignation, hoping she wouldn't make this harder on you since you were clueless.

"Let me give you a hint" as soon as the words left her mouth, her hands uncrossed to reach for the end of her yellow hoodie to hoist it up and throw it on the seat behind her, adding to the pile of clothes already there, collecting wrinkles and dust. She could have been talking, about the weather or about how she wanted to break up with you- it didn't matter. You were not listening.

Hair fell out of the low ponytail sticking to the back of her neck, black sport bra slightly damp because of the sweat, flushed toned tummy staring back at you. And then, your favourite part - which was all thanks to you - a constellation of hickeys, big and small, red and purple, decorating her body. From her throat to the valley of her breasts, all the way down to where her pants wouldn't allow you to see.

"This was all yesterday?" she asked incredulous, the corner of her lips twitching as she tried not to smile (she could have tried not to blush either, but that ship sailed the moment your eyes landed on her body) as she was trying to be believable in her scolding.

You let a laugh escape, as you looked away "yeah..well you haven't seen you legs"

She blinked once, then a second time, then - with the speed of someone who had their pants on fire - she pulled them down, letting them pool at her ankles.

Another tray of love bites scattered across her skin, hinting the path you took last night, pointing towards her center. Her eyes widened as she yelled out your name, causing you to burst out laughing, falling back onto the soft sheets.

When your laugh - finally would add Zoey - died down, you reopened your eyes to see that adorable pout of hers still on her face.

You affectionately rolled your eyes and moved on the bed until your legs were dangling off of it. Zoey's arms unclenched as you gripped her forearms and brought her closer to you, standing in between your legs.

"What's the problem my love? Too much?"

You don't remember Zoey complaining about it last night (if anything, you distinctly remember her asking for more) or this morning, but you also knew Zoey hardly voiced her discontent, most of the time the solution was to guess what was wrong, and you had to do it in a light hearted tone so she wouldn't freak out and fake a smile.

"Too good? Aching to do it again?" you wiggled your eyebrows for effect.

She giggled, freckles dancing around her skin at the movement. She stuck her tongue out as she pointed a finger at you "never underestimate me". Then her smile turned wicked and shrugged "but also yes"

Your lips stretched into a smirk, but before you could even think about kissing her, the pointed finger turned into an obstacle as she put it on your lips.

"That doesn't mean you can kiss me. I'm still mad at you" her pout made a comeback

"What did I do?"

"I went to take my hoodie because I was hot and Mira and Rumi saw all of it and made fun of me! I had to dance with the hoodie on" the blush returned to her cheeks at the memory "I almost fainted from the heat!"

Your only reaction was to laugh in her face, knowing she was one to always exaggerate and there was no real need to worry. When she tried to hit you again you just caught her hands in the air.

Yours went around her thighs, enjoying the little shakes she gave as your fingertips tickled her skin "Is that a problem? You never cared if they teased you or not"

"Well I don't, normally" voice uncharacteristically low, Zoey started playing with your shirt, not looking at you "but Mira was showing us a new choreography and you know she is especially bossy when she's in her element, meaning she had the upper hand" you nodded along, keeping quiet "and it's not as fun when I can't tease them back, they looked like they haven't had sex in years!" her eyes met yours as you both laughed "I swear! Rumi is usually easier to tease, just the word hickey would make her blush but this time she was teasing me! And i know you're gonna say 'yeah but didn't you see them this morning while you were getting dressed?' and I could say sure my bad but the thing is that...I was sleepy... I didn't notice" she ended on a shy note, because of her words and because she was starting to feel like she was talking too much.

You craned your neck to lay a kiss on her forearm "What if I tell you next time, so you can be prepared. Would that work?"

She seemed to think about it for a second, before nodding. And instead of giving you a verbal thank you she leaned to kiss you on the lips, one you accepted without hesitation.

"But you know what's the worst part" she detached from your mouth after only a minute, because Zoey being Zoey she could never stay silent for too long (you loved it) "usually I would make a joke like 'oh you should see the other one' or something. But looking at you" she moved the fabric of your shirt, spying underneath "you have nothing, that's not fair"

So, without wasting another second, she took your shirt off, and pushed you back onto the bed, earning another laugh from you.

"I think it's time for some serious payback" her own hoodie came off, and she fell onto your awaiting arms with a giggle.

Rumi

"Yo, Rumi texted you" Zoey announced as soon as you got back into her room after a pause to get some snacks. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, because despite being in the same house, she felt the need to text you, instead of just walking a couple of steps.

"Yea?" you set the food to the side and took the phone from the ravenette's outstretched hand, mumbling a small 'thanks'. You opened your message app.

From: Ru-my love

Hi, I know you're in Zoey's room right now. When you have time can you please come to my room? we need to talk. I'll be waiting.

PS. It's nothing to be worried about

You chuckled at the way she wrote it, she always texted like an old lady sending a letter - a habit she probably picked up from Celine - but when you read it a second time your smile faded.

"What's up?" voiced the girl after a minute of you staring at the device in silence

"uh," you put your phone in your pocket after texting her a quick 'I'll be there' "she wants to talk"

"About what?"

You shrugged "She didn't say" You knew that if Rumi told you it was nothing to be worried about then it really wasn't, but you hadn't been together that long so you were still in the phase where you were so scared of messing up for every little thing

Zoey's gaze didn't falter from the tv, too intent on adjusting the settings for the next game "ohhh, I got it"

Your eyes met her side profile "What do you mean you got it? Did she talk to you?" you tried to get answers from her but all you got was an amused smirk playing on her face "you know something I don't"

The maknae scoffed, like the insinuation of the contrary was offensive "obviously" she handed you your controller, your character ready to play "come on, one game and then you'll go?"

You trusted Zoey's words, that's why you accepted to play the last game, before knocking on Rumi's room (with two people telling you not to worry, you forced yourself to calm down)

She opened the door after a second, hoodie and pajama pants on, hair in different small braids instead of the usual big one. Rumi smiled softly when her gaze met yours, whispering a 'hi' as she didn't hesitate to pull you into a hug- her shampoo engulfing you completely.

Okay so she wasn't mad at you. Maybe.

Once the hug ended she let you into her room and sat on her chair, motioning for you to sit on the bed. You did just that, hands on your knees as you looked around the room (way to not make Rumi feel pressured with eyes on her). But after a while, she still hasn't said a word. Curved back and fingers fidgeting with one another while she tried so hard to look at you, but inevitably failed every time.

You decided to bite the bullet "Rumi, is there something wrong?"

Her head snapped upwards like you just caught her with her hands in the cookie jar, like you just guessed something was wrong. Like she didn't start the conversation with a text. Her fidgeting only got worse, now mumbling words that didn't make any sense together.

Rumi was..closed off, to say the least. Your love for her went through the roof and you weren't afraid to tell her that, but that didn't mean you understood her completely- (hell, she didn't understand herself either) not yet. But you were determined to. Because a big part of loving Rumi (the biggest part probably) was accepting her and understanding her.

And the first time your heart tripped with excitement as she laid her eyes on you, when you didn't know if she could ever feel how you felt- you promised yourself just that. That you'd devote your life to making her feel understood, before making her feel loved (that for Rumi, those were synonym feelings).

You knew asking her directly could do more harm than good, but leaving her alone with her thoughts could be worse. You knew your girlfriend craved physical touch, craved it so much it hurt, but precisely because she went most of her life without it, a touch received at the wrong time could overwhelm her and make her shut down.

So when you got up, you did it extremely slowly. Rumi shut her mouth as her eye caught the movement, watching you move around her room. You kneeled in front of her until you were at eye level. Your fingers twitched on your knees, aching to offer her a comfort you weren't sure was what she wanted. Please do whispered her mind, but unfortunately her eyes had long learned how to conceal the rawest of desires.

"Rumi" if it was nothing serious - as she said - why was she so nervous? "Did something happen?"

Your hands raised into the air, because despite your previous purpose, you preferred being rejected than making her think you didn't want to touch her. She blinked as they rested on top of the arm of the chair. She picked up on the meaning behind your gesture, and suddenly fingers caressed the palm of your hands, before she took them in her hold and brought them on her lap.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The half demon quickly shook her head because no, no, her fear of being open and vulnerable won't make you feel like you did something wrong. Her hands tightened their hold on yours. "no, oh god no"

But now she was the one feeling like she was in the wrong, she made you come to her room with a cryptic message for something that now seemed so stupid, and yet here you were. Bare knees on the hard floor and looking up at her like she was a fossil and you were a paleontologist trying to figure out which dinosaur she belonged to. The kind of gaze that would make her feel naked. The kind of love that would make her feel unworthy of being its receiver.

"I'm sorry- wow" she wanted to get away from your gaze so she turned her head to the side, she tried to get away from your hold and - because you didn't hold on tight - she succeeded "it's actually not that deep, I didn't mean to"

You hastily got up - her chair moving a couple of inches back at the movement - and grabbed her cheek. Now she was forced to meet your worried eyes (and accept that they came from a place of love)

"Don't do that" you scolded gently "I don't care how dumb it may be, just say it"

Rumi just sighed, a smile crept onto her face for a reason unknown to her, supposedly the result of tension in her brows turning into familiarity and relief.

"Okay but now i'm afraid you'll laugh at me" a giggle that only sounded half forced "because it does sound kind of silly"

"so what?" your eyes lit up at the sound "if it really is silly then I'll laugh, we 'll laugh. We'll talk through it amidst the laughter and then we'll talk about something else. Does that sound like a bad plan?"

The purple haired girl shook her head, because no plan was a bad plan when it involved her being coddled by your warmth.

She was extra grateful for the hands holding (- hiding) her cheeks when she felt the heat rising there. She cleared her throat. "You can't..do that thing anymore" she looked away again, like telling it to the carpet was easier "..the thing with your tongue"

"Uh?" you blinked, breath stuck in your lungs "what thing?"

The heat reached her ears as the overly rehearsed words echoed in her head "when you kiss me, and then you go down" she lifted the hood of her sweater - conveniently placed to hide her neck - a small red mark where her jaw met her throat staring back at you "they leave a bruise"

Oh. Oh sweet Rumi.

Profoundly embarrassed because of a hickey kissing her skin for the first time. She talked about it like it was something stupid, something 'silly', but was it really?

She didn't acknowledge it as a hickey (and not for lack of experience), but as something secret you two did. A mark she felt the need to cover. And God only knows she's had enough of covering herself.

Oh your sweet Rumi.

"oh my love" you didn't hold her hands, leaving her the opportunity to cover her neck with her hood if she so wished, but your tone reached her all the same "it's normal"

"It is?"

"Yeah" you hesitantly answered, you never thought you'd have to explain something like that but here you were "it's something that happens, I can stop if you want" you took a step forward "but if you liked it- it heals, I assure you"

The singer was silent for a moment, gaze shifting between you and the room, brain working overtime as multiple thoughts formed at the same time "it always happens?"

You shrugged, not quite knowing where she was going with this "with kisses like that..yea, mostly"

Suddenly, her once dormant blush arose stronger than ever, setting her whole face and neck ablaze.

"That's why Zoey and Mira made all those jokes earlier today" her hands came off her face, letting your eyes witness the mess on it "I tried telling them I got hurt during the last fight, but they just wouldn't believe me. That should have been a believable excuse, right?" you offered her an awkward smile, too preoccupied thinking back on when Zoey seemed to know why Rumi wanted to talk to you.

But evidently your input wasn't needed, as she kept on talking.

"They were so sure we did..that" she slumped on her chair, elbows on knees as if hiding in shame would erase the day.

You got on your knees once again, she unconsciously opened her legs a little allowing you to crawl closer. Her small smile matched yours and her eyes fluttered close when your fingers cradled her, as if protecting her from the embarrassment and shame she felt outside those doors. Outside of your touch.

Your eyes were stuck on her figure, long lashes caressing her cheekbones, iridescent patterns glowing softly along the inviting light of the rising moon, filtering through the open balcony windows. Soft lips, devoid of any lipstick, were slightly parted as air flew in and out, her chest moving in sync. If you gave her a little more time, Rumi was sure she could have fallen asleep like this.

Instead, your thumb brushed over her bottom lip, causing her eyes to open again and for her mouth to widen into a smile. You tilted your head upwards in a silent question, eyes meeting hers. Her hands circled your wrist. She nodded.

Your knees left the floor as your lips encountered Rumi's in a slow kiss, no rush needed. You moved against each other like it was second nature, like you had been doing that for your whole life, that's how right kissing Rumi felt, safe in the quiet of her room while her hands held your face and soft light seeped through her clothes.

When your calves where starting to hurt in the uncomfortable position they were in you unwillingly pulled away, your girlfriend holding a laugh as you almost fell over. Her hold the only reason you didn't.

"Do you want me to stop?" she furrowed her eyebrows, confused by the question, had she given any misleading sign?

But before she could overthink it further, you explained yourself (her tilting her head to the side was both a cute gesture and clear signal of her confusion)

"The thing with the teeth, when I kiss your neck" your eyes lowered to the hem of her hoodie, which slipped during the kiss and left the hickey be kissed by the moonlight.

"oh" the sound escaped her before she could stop it, like she just remembered it "you don't- you don't have to" she muttered, hoping the hushed tone wouldn't be mistaken for uncertainty. So she decided - tried - to be clearer "But not now, I want to wait for the other one to heal first" you caught a glimpse of her teeth as they bit on her bottom lip for a moment "and not on the neck, since I can't really use my hair to cover it"

You didn't hesitate to nod, knowing this was more than simply being allowed to do something, this was being trusted- and frankly, there was nothing better.

"Whatever you say my love"

Celine

The coffee whined loudly in the quiet kitchen, almost asking you to save it from the fire. You turned the stove off, carefully grasping the warm handle to pour yourself some. Despite the two mugs displayed on the counter, you only filled one.

Celine always woke up before the sun did, whether she had some work to do or didn't want to feel like she was 'rotting in bed', you'd wake up to an empty bed, or - if you were lucky - to the sight of Celine working on her laptop, glasses perched on top of her nose as her fingers typed rapidly on the keyboard. Your complaints of cold sheets and bright artificial light blinding your eyes never fazed her (though you'd bet the screen's low brightness wasn't a coincidence) but she never forced you to wake up when she did, unless you really had to, so you couldn't really complain.

So when, for the first time since you two started sleeping together, you woke up before her, you decided to just let her sleep.

A yawn threatened to make you spill the coffee, but fortunately you retracted your hand just in time, the liquid stopping at the rim of the cup. Your lower back collided with the counter as you turned around to lean on it, letting your lips touch the mug and savour the warm beverage. Your stomach growled the moment the coffee went down your throat, its way of telling you that it wasn't enough to quench your hunger.

But you decided against indulging it, preferring to wait for Celine to wake up so you'd have breakfast together (that way she would have no choice but to take it slow and eat something).

By the time your mug was half empty you moved to the chair and reached for the phone you left on the table last night. A few notifications caught your eye and you started going through them. Between an ignored online discourse and an huntr/x fan account gushing about their last performance (you set a mental reminder to congratulate them next time you saw them) you heard the bathroom door opening and closing again. You checked the coffee you left for Celine, making sure it was enough for her, before going back on your phone.

Then, as you switched to respond to some work emails, you suddenly felt a slap being delivered to the back of your head, making your head slightly jolt forward.

You turned your head to look at Celine, standing in front of you with her arms crossed, squinted eyes and furrowed brows. And only wearing your shirt from the night before. If you weren't confused and slightly scared you'd probably be turned on right now. Celine spent her whole life fighting, controlling her strength was as easy as breathing by now, so even if it didn't hurt, it was clear the gesture had a scolding purpose.

"I just can't believe you sometimes"

An incredulous smile took over your face as your left hand went to cup the back of your head. Was she that mad about not being woken up?

"What did I do?" you asked tentatively, but she only scoffed, like you just had to know.

Then, she moved her hair to the side, revealing a small (you'd say- she'd disagree) red mark where her neck met her shoulder.

A hickey. You gave Celine a hickey. You almost laughed at the sight. But you kept quiet.

"Are you serious? Are you a teenager??" she covered it with her hair once again, as if it was a secret not even you could be aware of.

You shrugged, unsure of what to say "I'm sorry" you settled on "it wasn't on purpose" because even if the sight of your mark on Celine was making you feel all sorts of way, it really wasn't.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath in, forcing herself to calm down. She had to calm down.

Despite the smile on your face she could see you were being sincere, and rationally she knew one couldn't really control these things, you two never talked about this; so she knew she couldn't put all the blame you.

But frankly, this was easier. Blaming you and making you the sole responsible so you'd feel guilty and find a way to make up for it. That way you'd be too preoccupied making amends and she wouldn't have to bare her heart.

However, this was you, someone who had found an entrance to her heart, through a door she lost the key to years ago, someone who dusted the long-forgotten feelings, lit the fireplace to warm up the room and made dinner for the two of you, overcoming all the booby traps set up for protection.

You were someone she wanted to be better for. She's had enough of pushing people away for a mindset that did nothing but harm.

With a sigh, she reached the counter to pour herself some coffee- to take courage. She brought the mug to her lips, letting her gaze drift between it and you. Looking away made it easier to speak, but looking at you made it easier to remember why she was trying so hard in the first place.

"We have to go out with the girls tonight" she uttered after a second, the breath making the coffee move in its container "It's not ideal going to dinner with..it"

The four of them started a.. 'tradition', after everything went down and Rumi's patterns were revealed. Once a month they went out to dinner, no training, no talk about work or demons. Just them, talking about the weather and how their day went.

One could cut the tension with a knife the first few hangouts (and you were glad you weren't there to see it), but they all knew it was necessary. Rumi and Celine needed to get accustomed to each other once again - and there was no way Mira and Zoey would leave their girlfriend alone. With time, it all became more natural and enjoyable, and that was also thanks to you.

At first, the girls used you as a conversation topic (and hey! despite everything they still cared a lot about Celine and wanted to make sure you were right for her), but dinner after dinner they started becoming attached to you and the hangouts slowly lost their awkwardness until they turned into something everyone looked forward to.

"Okay but, so what?" you tried to reason "They're young, they know how it goes"

"That's exactly the problem!" her voice raised slightly, but you didn't take it personally. The way she hid in remorse behind her cup was enough to make you forget it. "It's...embarrassing"

As soon as those words left her mouth she regretted ever wanting to be honest with her feelings, because now you here you were, looking at her with a smile so soft that it made her ears red, and so teasing that it made her legs want to give in.

You zeroed the distance, the only obstacle being the mug going cold in her hands. "And would that be a problem?" you breath brushed her ear when you got closer "Them knowing that I like to make my lover feel good?"

Lover because she wouldn't let you label her as anything but that. 'Don't call me girlfriend, I'm a woman' she complained once you used the term one too many times (it made her blush so much it was ridiculous- she had to stunt you somehow. Lover wasn't any better, but by the time you came up with it she was too in love to act like it didn't make her fuzzy every time)

Still, she tried to act tough, her grip tightening around the coffee she had yet to take a single sip of. "I have a reputation to maintain" she declared with an air of finality, because god, what would Rumi think if the stoic woman she grew up with turned out to be a huge lover girl? Being soft for her or her friends came natural, nothing wrong with it. But with a lover? Heart eyes and rosy cheeks? reputation in shambles. You raised an eyebrow, knowing damn well her tough girl persona had been destroyed the first time you were introduced to the girls, as they got to meet a whole new side of her (and made the healing part of Rumi's and Celine's relationship incredibly easier).

The mug was suddenly put away on the sink behind her, leaving her hands bare, with no choice but to let them rest at her sides, unguarded. The other sets of hands gently pushed her closer against the counter, effectively blocking her there, her stoic face morphing into furrowed brows and parted lips, only half-expecting what could come out of your smirk.

"Alright gorgeous" your breath hitting hers "I'll make sure no one sees them" Celine accepted your lips on her neck like one accepts fate, unable and unwilling to change it. Her hand gripped your shoulder the moment your teeth sank into her neck, to stop you and aide her legs in supporting her body weight simultaneously.

"No" she pulled you back until your eyes met "no marks, or you'll regret it"

"mhmh" you smiled with the cockiness of someone who wasn't affected by her glare "no marks.. unless you start begging"

You were going to be the death of her. And she was fine with it.

You were used to Celine’s paranoid anxieties. That had been one of the first things you had to accept when you began dating her.

She was overly cautious and highly protective. If she hadn’t heard from you in a while then her mind started filling with worst case scenarios. Maybe you got hurt, maybe you got kidnapped, maybe a demon got you while Celine wasn’t around. She wouldn’t relax until she heard your voice again.

At home she refused to go to bed until she had patrolled the perimeter of her own home, double-checking every room, every window, and every door to make sure they were safe. You teased her exactly once over it, and immediately felt guilty for it. If this is what Celine needed to feel safe at home, you weren’t going to judge her. You’d help her in whatever way you could.

Once the Sunlight Sisters fell apart with Miyeong’s death, her paranoia worsened. Miyeong’s death had been a jarring reminder of how fragile their lives were.

And what’s more? Suddenly it wasn’t only you she needed to protect, but Rumi too. Suddenly she was carrying the weight of protecting the whole world all on her own. She had become Atlas, carrying the Heaven’s on her shoulders. Even as Rumi got older, those worries and fears Celine carried didn’t ease.

Couldn’t rest.

The Honmoon was growing weaker with each passing year, there was only so much Celine could do to protect it, but one hunter was never going to be enough. More demons were slipping through; the cracks were deepening.

Her fears worsening.

You had lost track of how often you woke up to Celine fretting over you, as if she were afraid you had died. You had lost count of how often you would slip out of bed in the wee hours of the night and find your wife asleep on the floor, back to Rumi's crib, and her ssanggeom in each hand.

Sometimes you’d find her awake and standing over Rumis crib—and later bed—as she stood watch. “sojunghan saram,” she would whisper to the girl as she tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear.

There was one night in particular you still remembered clearly. There had been a presence over your body and fingers at your throat.

Jolting awake, you were met with a ragged Celine kneeling over you on the bed, fingers pressed to your pulse point on your throat. She was covered in bruises and still-bleeding cuts from the latest round of demons she had to fight off.

“You… you were so still,” Celine explained in a dreadful whisper as she pulled her shaking hand back. “I had to be sure.”

She’d already lost two of her closest friends, she couldn’t stand the thought of losing either you or Rumi too. She was paranoid, she was anxious, she had to make constant sure that you were okay.

And you couldn’t blame her, couldn’t bring yourself to even pretend to be annoyed.

You took her hand in yours and pressed a kiss to her bruised knuckles to show that this was real, that you were living, not a ghost, “I'm fine, we’re fine, nae sarang,” you murmured. You were here, and Rumi was sleeping soundly in he own room.

Crawling out of bed, you carefully led Celine out of your shared room. She didn’t make a fuss, didn’t argue as you made her take a seat at the kitchen island, only letting out a quiet, almost unnoticeable, whine when you let go of her hand and walked away.

The first aid kit was in the bathroom, it was sizable, bigger than you suspected most households needed, and was very well used. Tucking the metal box under your arm, you’d grabbed a wash cloth and then retrieved a bowl of warm water from the kitchen. You’d done this song and dance plenty of times, the steps second nature at this point.

You carefully washed the blood and dirt off of her with the damp cloth, watching the bowl of water slowly turn redder and redder. You poured it out and replaced it with fresh water three times before you were satisfied with the result.

Then began the slow process of finally cleaning out each wound made by demon claws and weapon. She was covered in so many gashes and scrapes, deep cuts and light scratches.

She never used to come home this injured when she had the others to watch her back. A few bruises, a couple of cuts. Nothing some band-aids and concealer couldn't fix. Now she came home each night like she'd dragged herself from war.

You never said anything on it. She was doing all she could, the work of three on the shoulders of one. If she came home more injured than she used to, then you'd kiss her bruises and wrap her cuts. You were just grateful she came home.

Each injury you took your time and care with, being as thorough as you could cleaning and disinfecting it before moving on to the next, staying as gentle as you could with Celine.

It was as you were wetting another cotton ball that Celine stiffened in a familiar way, bringing you to pause. To listen. Quiet footsteps, the gentle creak of floorboards. An even softer gasp.

“You should be in bed, little cub.”

Turning around, you were met with the sight of the small girl loitering around the corner, trying to be sneaky as she watched. Rumi had her teddy bear tucked under one arm, and her eyes were wide with fright as she peered at you two.

“…Is Celine going to be okay?”

Celine pushed past the pain to offer Rumi a strained smile, holding out a hand in a quiet invitation for her to come over. “I’ll be fine, Rumi,” she assured the girl who scampered across the room to latch on to her. “I’m far tougher than I look.”

Rumi nuzzled into her hand, eyes still wet with tears, mind clearly rushing over all the worst what ifs it could imagine after seeing Celine so hurt.

Like mother like daughter, you supposed.

They had done well up until now to keep Rumi away from this side of demon hunting. She could be told stories of hunts and fights, Celine and yourself could paint them as fantastical, heroic battles that one might see in her cartoons or read in a book. The kind of fights where the hero always wins and no one really gets hurt.

But you had both always made sure she never saw the aftermath of those fights, neither wanting to worry or scare her. She was too young to know just how dangerous fighting a demon could be. To see Celine covered in her own blood after each fight.

Well, so much for that now.

“Celine’s right, Rumi,” you hummed, kneeling down beside her. “She’s too stubborn to not be okay.”

She didn’t look too convinced, and you couldn’t blame her, so you switched tactics. “I’ve still got a lot of work with patching her up. Do you think you could lend me a hand?”

Rumi, always so eager to help, agreed immediately while asking what it was you needed her to do and promising to do her task well.

It was simple enough. An extra pair of hands to hand you things or to hold items steady for you. You were still doing all the work, but passing you fresh cotton balls and antiseptic was doing wonders at making Rumi feel useful, and hopefully at distracting her.

And Celine did her part of holding perfectly still as you continued to clean out the injuries, exhaling in slow, steady breaths, smiling over at Rumi, reassuring the girl over and over that she was fine, that she would be okay.

By the time you and Rumi had finished, Celine was cleaned up, stitched up, and wrapped up in fresh white bandages and over a dozen teddy bear band-aids.

Once completed, you’d hoisted Rumi up into your arms—letting out an exaggerated grunt and gasp as you teased her for getting to be so big, how she needed to stop growing—and propped her up on your hip. “I think that’s enough excitement for one night, cub. Let’s get you to bed.”

Of course Rumi argued and fought, still so worried for Celine, there was no way she'd able to just go to sleep.

So a compromise: she spent the night curled up between the two of you so she could make absolutely sure that Celine would be okay.

It was cute.

Of course, Celine continued to come home battered and bruised after each fight, and you continued to mend her wounds and tend to her aches each time.

But now the dynamic had shifted, just a little, as Rumi continued to worry herself into tears until you let her help take in whatever little way you could. That's all she really wanted; to help. To take care of Celine just like she took care of you and her.

There had been another incident, one that you swore up and down wasn’t half as serious as your girls claimed it was. Though your reassurances did little to help ease the paranoia and fear in them.

It had been late at night. Rumi, who was now eleven, had convinced yourself and Celine to take her to see a new animated film at the theaters—not that it took much convincing, that girl had both of you wrapped around her fingers—and by the time the movie was over and you two were walking home, the sun had long since set and the streets had become quiet.

Rumi was between you both, each holding one of her hands as you swung her between you, laughing, talking animatedly about the movie, the songs, the characters. She had stars in her eyes, and was probably running on a rather big sugar high. Neither of you had noticed the way she had faltered, or the odd, brief look flickering her face.

Celine had sensed it a few minutes later, an ominous shift in the Honmoon. She didn’t have to explain herself, she had contingencies for incidents like these.

So as she ran off to hunt, you had tightened your grip on Rumi’s hand and began a brisk walk to the nearest store you could find that was still open. It didn’t erase the danger, but it was safer to wait in a public space than it was to be alone in the streets when demons broke free.

Most of the stores were closed, it was hard to find somewhere that might have been open still. You wouldn’t lie; you were starting to grow worried, not that you would let it show.

You kept a brave face instead, assuring Rumi that everything was fine, that they weren’t in any sort of trouble. While Celine was fighting, it was your job to keep your little girl calm, to chase away the fear.

Rumi had whimpered, clinging to you like her life depended on it.

If she hadn’t let out a scream when she had, you never would have noticed the demon approaching. The creature was red and leathery, with a single bulging eye.

In an instant, it leapt off a dumpster at you.

You’d tackled Rumi, to the ground, shielding her with your own body as you dived away from the razor-sharp claws.

This was bad.

Celine was the hunter, not you. You couldn’t summon weapons from the Honmoon, nor did you have the kind of fighting experience that Celine had when it came to demons. At most you had a few self-defense lessons meant to deal with would-be muggers and a bottle of expired pepper spray in your purse.

Needless to say, you were grossly out of your depth here.

But you had Rumi at your side, and like fucking hell were you going to let anything happen to her.

The demon stayed crouched on the ground, looking up at you and Rumi like a child staring at a dead bug with morbid fascination. It said nothing, tilted it’s head and stared at them. Then the thing slowly smiled at you, full off too many teeth, full of too much malice.

You'd like to think that you threw some witty line at it, some kind of wisecrack as you angled your body to best shield Rumi. When it lashed out to punch and slash, you grabbed Rumi and threw yourselves the opposite way.

Keep your distance. Don’t let it get close enough to touch you. Just hold out until Celine found you. Those were the rules. Meant to keep you safe, meant to protect you.

Simple in theory, a lot harder in practice.

Lucky for you, the demon was as dumb as it was ugly. Making it easy to distract it, easy to evade it.

You continued to dance around it, dragging Rumi with you each step. At one point you managed to get enough distance to pull out your pepper spray and—with nothing more than a hope and a prayer that the bottle would still work—you managed to spritz it in it's bulging eye.

It may not have been half as potent as it should have been, but it still sent the demon screaming and writhing for a minute or two. Add in another minute of being dazed after you threw in a punch to the eye for free.

It was plenty long enough to give you and Rumi a running start as you fled.

Unfortunately, it was a tragic fact of life that you can never truly outrun a demon. Not when they have a cheat code known as teleportation.

You and Rumi had only made it to the end of the block before being cut off by a sudden cloud of maroon smoke appearing in front of you and a just as fast swipe of claws aimed at Rumi.

Without even thinking, you threw yourself over her.

You heard your sweater tear. Felt your skin tear, followed by the warm trickle of blood that began dribbling down your shoulder.

Thankfully, the demon didn’t have a chance to follow up.

There was the quiet sound of metal hissing through the air, and then the demon was gone like a cloud in the sky, and Celine had taken its place.

She stood before you, face glistening with sweat, her clothes torn, and her skin littered in new bruises and fresh cuts.

Her hands were on your face the moment her twin blades returned to the Honmoon, checking you and Rumi over with frantic worry.

She saw your bleeding shoulder and you saw her face twist from worry to terror and guilt.

Celine was talking to you—you could see her mouth moving, as her hand hovered over the injury, but you couldn’t heard the words over the roar in your ears.

It took a few seconds, you think, before the noise quieted enough for you to hear Celine's rushed and quiet apologies and self-flagellation over the injury.

“Jagiya, I’m fine. We’re fine,” you weren’t sure, but you hope you sounded more convincing than you looked.

Celine looked like she wanted to argue, but that was too bad for her, because you made sure that Rumi took priority.

She was sobbing against you, face pressed into your arm as your blood dripped onto her. Rumi was crying out apologies. If Celine was bad about blaming herself over you getting hurt, your cub was worse.

You got hurt protecting her, so it’s her fault you’re bleeding, Rumi had insisted between hiccups. She’s sorry, she’s sorry.

You ignored the ache in your bones as you pulled yourself free from Celine to drop to your knee, pulling Rumi into your chest. The only one to blame for you being hurt was the demon, and it was gone now. It had tried to hurt Rumi; it was only natural you’d protect her.

You kept whispering reassurances to her, trying to assuage her guilt and assure her that she wasn’t to blame.

The walk back home had been tense. Celine on high alert, carrying Rumi in one arm, her other wrapped carefully around you as if to shield you both. Rumi hiccupping between her sobs.

That was the first night that you found yourself sitting on the stool while Rumi and Celine fretted over you, cleaning out your injury and stitching you shut.

The injury would leave a scar. You didn’t care. To you it was a proud reminder of how far you’d go to keep your family safe.

A week later Rumi stubbornly demanded Celine train her.

And with that your own fears began to materialize: the inevitably that both of your girls will be putting their lives on the line to fight.

Your nights used to be spent patching Celine up. But now your evenings were the same; spent bandaging Rumi's cuts and icing her bruises.

You had hoped, deep down, that she would decide the training was too much for her, that she didn’t want to live this kind of life. Celine wouldn't force her into becoming a hunter if she didn't want to.

But Rumi took to her training like a fish to water. Just like with Celine, Rumi was single-minded in her focus, determined to accomplish whatever task she was given perfectly.

You just wished your cub wasn’t inheriting all Celine’s bad habits.

She continued to refuse to look at your scar with anything but guilt. Refused to stop blaming herself for your injury. As if there had been anything an eleven-year-old kid could have done to prevent any of it.

It was two in the morning when you carefully removed yourself from Celine’s hold and slipped out of the bed. The way she whined, trying to keep you against her even in her sleep, it was honestly adorable.

You kept your movements as quiet as possible so your wife could sleep as you approached the bedroom door, intent to only get a glass of water, nothing more.

Opening the door, you were not expecting to see Rumi.

She was slumped on the floor, back pressed to the wall across from your room. She was in her teddy bear pajamas, cradling her wooden practice sword, her head dipped low in a position that would guarantee neck and back pain come morning.

You quietly closed the door behind you and then knelt beside her, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. “Rumi,” you whispered, giving her just the slightest nudge.

Just like with Celine, the girl jolted awake with wide eyes, drawing her sword to fight.

And just like with Celine whenever she woke up thinking she was in a fight, you gently caught her wrist in a loose, nonconfining grasp before she could lash out, keeping your voice quiet for her, “It’s just me, cub.”

Rumi blinked away the sleep, chest heaving as she stared up at you in slow recognition. A moment passed before her face flushed in shame. “Sorry—I” she pulled her hand free, dropping it, and the sword, to her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for being startled.”

Rumi still wouldn’t look your way, staring at the closed bedroom door, at the wooden sword in her lap, her own twitching fingers.

Like mother, like daughter, you thought with a sigh.

“Come with me,” was all you said as you stood, slowly pulling Rumi to her feet too. She didn’t argue or fight you, the hall was no place for a conversation, and so you gentle guided her to the kitchen.

Before long you had her sitting beside you at the table, a mug of tea in her hands. Her eyes continued to dart left and right. Just like Celine always did.

“What were you doing outside our door?” you asked her, your tone wasn’t accusatory, just genuine curiosity and concern. Had she had a bad dream? She knew she could always come and wake you if she did—her becoming a teenager didn’t mean she was allowed less comfort.

Rumi kept staring at her tea, at the small ripples in the dark liquid that came with each slight movement. Then, slowly, she gave you a shrug as she continued to avoid your gaze. “Thought I heard something in the house.”

“And so, you decided to stand guard outside our room?”

There wasn’t a shrug this time, rather Rumi shrunk down on herself, as if worried she’d done something wrong. Her eyes flickered to your shoulder; your sleep shirt had left just enough of the skin exposed that she could see the beginnings of the scar she hated so much. A new rush of guilt and shame flashed across her face.

Reaching across the table, you rested your hand over hers. “Rumi, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You felt like you’ve been telling her that a lot more often as she grew up. That constant fear, walking on eggshells, the worry that she’d disappoint you or Celine. Worried she’d make one wrong step and everyone would hate her for it.

You wished you could know how to help her better.

Rumi still avoided your gaze, “I’m just worried for you,” you told her. “Sleeping on the floor like that isn’t good for you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Rumi defended. As if that made it any better.

Rather than say that; you just gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Rumi was too much like Celine for her own good, but at least that meant you had an idea of what to expect.

That being that you knew telling Rumi to stop it wasn’t going to work. She’ll just try to be craftier about her nightly sentry duties, sneakier about it—and the last thing you want is for Rumi to feel like she has to hide anything from you.

You had learned that the best way to handle the stubbornness of a Hunter was to find a compromise.

“Next time you feel like something’s wrong, like you did tonight, please wake Celine or myself. If there is some kind of threat, I don’t want to worry about you dealing with it on your own,” you told her. “And if you have to stand guard, at least bring a pillow or two so it’s more comfortable.”

That, at least, Rumi could agree to. Celine would have more experience handling any threat, and—if you insisted then she wouldn’t argue about the pillow.

A compromise, that’s all you asked.

Still smiling softly, you slowly pushed yourself up from the table. “Do you want to go back to bed, or stay up a little longer?”

“A little longer—but you can go back to bed, you don’t have to stay up with me,” Rumi said quickly, finally looking up from her cooling tea. “I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Lucky for you that I happen to want to stay up with you.”

 Rumi tried to argue, but the end result was inevitable, with the two of you curled up on the couch watching Culinary Class Wars on the television as the night hours slowly drifted by.

The two of you were still there at dawn when Celine padded out into the room, tired, clearly a little miffed to have woken up without you beside her in bed. But her sour expression had softened immediately when she saw Rumi curled up against you on the couch, sleeping soundly.

You smiled, a finger to your lips as you looked at her, your other hand gently threading through Rumi’s hair.

Nights like this proved to be a reoccurring thing with Rumi. It reminded you of how Celine used to anxiously watch over her when Rumi was little.

There were times where she’d pace aggressively around the house, like she was looking for something, hunting for something, but not even she knew what she was trying to find. If she wasn’t pacing, she looked ready to vibrate out of her skin.

Anxiety, you theorized. Celine’s paranoia rubbing off on her.

You had suggested seeing a doctor, if nothing else then maybe getting Rumi on anxiety medication could help her. But, unsurprisingly, Rumi was just as stubbornly against the idea as Celine had been when you had suggested the same to her years ago.

Like mother. Like daughter.

In all the best and worst ways.

So you handled this in the only way you could.

If you saw Rumi jumping at shadows, like a prey knowing it’s predator was lurking just out of sight, you’d bundle her up and sit her down with a drink, a treat, and let her vent.

Even if it didn’t make sense to you, even if it didn’t make sense to her, you let her get all the words for what she was feeling out.

Something was wrong.

Rumi felt like there were too many eyes watching. The sense that something was waiting. Her patterns would start itching and aching, and she would feel breathing on her neck.

There was a constricting, confining pressure in her chest that wouldn’t go away until she started moving, started searching.

You weren’t sure if anxiety was the right answer—but Celine assured her that the Honmoon didn’t so much as shiver the last time she had that rush of paranoia.

Still, Rumi didn’t settle, didn’t rest. Continued to pace the house in the dark of night when those watching eyes grew too much, continued to stand guard outside yours and Celine’s room when the anxiety got too much.

Continued to watch cooking shows with you on the couch until she finally relaxed and fell asleep.

Rumi was fifteen years old now. She was still training hard to become a Hunter, and had been working just as hard in her music.

You felt like you got to see her less and less as her time was consumed with lessons. It was all but set in stone now that she’d succeed as the leader of the next generation of Hunters.

You had mixed feelings about that.

Pride for all that your daughter has and was going to accomplish, for how strong and brave she had grown to be. But also fear; fear for her safety, her wellbeing. You didn’t want to see her to carry the same scars Celine had.

And you knew that deep down Celine felt the same.

It was shown in how, even after years of training, even when Rumi had long since learned to forge her own weapon from the Honmoon, Celine still chose to fight the demons alone. Telling Rumi that she wasn’t ready to fight—telling you that she wasn’t ready to make Rumi fight.

But you’ve lived long enough to know that fate rarely cares about what a person wants.

It’s been fifteen years. The Honmoon was barely holding itself together without the Hunters song to sustain it. The Sunlight Sisters had faded into obscurity by now, their music barely enough to keep the barrier strong. It was a miracle in itself that the Honmoon hadn’t completely shattered yet.

That didn’t mean it didn’t tear.

The Honmoon had crackled and shuddered so badly that Celine had feared it was going to break. The sign of a tear—one that both her and Rumi knew one Hunter alone couldn’t handle.

Rumi had begged and argued, she was a skilled fighter now, there was no doubt about it. Celine needed the help, regardless of what her pride said. Regardless of how desperately Celine wanted to not put Rumi in that kind of danger.

Ultimately, Celine had agreed. They didn’t have time to keep arguing, and as much as she hated it, she couldn’t fight this on her own.

That left you to wait for them alone at home.

It was an awful feeling.

It wasn’t as if you’d never been alone before while Celine was fighting demons. Back before Rumi was born, when the Sunlight Sisters still stood, you were often alone when the three went to deal with the demon incursions.

But back then you knew that they would be okay. Worried, yes, but you never doubted that they’d come home safe and sound.

Having both Rumi and Celine gone felt different. Filled you with so much more fear that it left you drowning in your thoughts.

What if something happened? Rumi’s never fought a demon before, her experience in combat came from sparring with Celine and nothing more. What if something went wrong and she got hurt? What if there were too many demons for them? What if you lost Celine? You couldn’t lose Celine. You couldn’t lose either of them.

Distraction, that’s what you needed.

It was already late into the night, and you tried to busy yourself with mindless tasks. Pacing was getting you nowhere, the house was already as spotless as it could be, so you did what you did best when you were stressed.

Cook.

They were going to be tired and hungry when they got home, you reasoned as you got to work. You needed to make them dinner. A celebratory meal for Rumi to congratulate her on her first real fight against the demons.

Rumi liked kimbaps. So, you decided you’d make some. But Celine liked bossam and bibimbap—you’d make that too, of course. And obviously there was all the side dishes you needed to make for them. Kimchi, ssamjang, maybe some seau-jeot if you had some shrimp. If not, some miyeok-guk would be good.

Maybe you were going a little overboard. But if you couldn’t stress clean, you sure as hell were going to burn all this nervous energy by stress cooking!

That way you could feel productive, you could keep your mind off the fight that Celine and Rumi were in the middle of, you could make sure there was something good for them to come home to.

Rolling up your sleeves and slipping on your apron, you got to work.

Across the city, where the Honmoon had been torn open, Celine and Rumi were fighting tirelessly, cutting down one demon after the other.

Spilling out from the rupture was a swarm of faceless demons. They crawled and climbed over each other in their mad bid to attack the pair of Hunters, filling the air with animalistic growls and snarls.

They were exactly how Celine had taught her; weak enough that a single blow from Rumi’s saingeom killed them. But the danger wasn’t in the individual, it was in their overwhelming numbers.

They were on a tightrope. One misstep from her or Celine and the hoard could overrun them.

But they were slowly pushing back, the swarm thinning by the minute. They just had to reach the tear, help the Honmoon mend itself, and the demons would be cut off.

Rumi grunted as she kicked one of the demons away, sending it careening into another group before pivoting on her heel and swinging her sword, cutting through three more in a single arc.

Celine had been right about this, too.

This was nothing compared to all her training.

At that thought, Rumi dared to look over to where her mother mentor was fighting further away.

Celine’s ssanggeoms cut through the air, bringing down one demon after the other, her movements as graceful as a stream. Each step she took, each swing of her ssanggeom carefully measured to use the least amount of energy without sacrificing the power behind it. A form of efficiency born only from years of experience.

Had Rumi not been fighting for her own life—and the lives of everyone this swarm would hurt if they failed—she would have deigned to just watch.

There was something enthralling about the way Celine fought. A kind of grace that made it seem less like a battle and more like a dance.

But this was certainly not the time, or the place, for that. Every second counted, and she couldn't afford to be distracted.

Another demon lunged for her, and Rumi turned, beheading it in a clean strike, watching the body dissolved into a maroon mist, as if it had never been there to begin with.

She tried not to think about it, about her own patterns, about whether she would dissolve in a similar cloud if she were killed.

They were nearly done.

Celine pulled the strings of the Honmoon and created a shockwave that took out the bulk of the swarm, Rumi had managed to cut through more demons, providing cover when Celine managed to reach the tear, keeping the faceless demons away from her.

The Honmoon glowed blue as she focused her energy into it, the rupture growing smaller and smaller until the strings reconnected—weaker than they should be, but closed once more.

As Rumi brought her sword down on one more demon, she felt it. Her body stiffening as a familiar sense of wrongness overtook her.

Home, something deep inside her urged.

“Celine,” her voice came out hoarse, strained, watching as Celine took down the last of the demons with a spin of her blades. “Celine, we need to leave. We need to go back. Now.”

 Home, home, home, her instincts screamed.

That’s where you were. Home. Alone.

In the back of her mind, she saw the puff of smoke, the flash of claws, crimson blood dripping down your shoulder as you curled yourself over Rumi.

They needed to get back home.

The beef for the bibimbap was marinating, the rice cooker was on. You had all your vegetables chopped up and divided into bowls. Cooking, focusing your attention on something tangible, had proved to help in keeping your mind off your worries.

You were proud of the meal you were making. All the favorite dishes of your favorite girls. Sure, you might have gone a bit excessive for just the three of you, but every little dish had kept your mind away from thoughts such as ‘Is Celine okay?’ ‘I don’t want Rumi to come home as tattered as Celine does’ ‘Please let them come home’ just that little bit longer.

It was while you were sauteing a pan of carrots that you heard the quiet footsteps behind you. There was only one person you knew who could move that quietly.

You allowed yourself to feel relief.

They’d come home sooner than you had thought—maybe the tear hadn’t been as bad as they feared, the demons not as dangerous. It didn’t matter the how, the why, all that mattered was that they were home.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled slowly, feeling the worry begin to ebb away. “Welcome home, aegiya,” you greeted.

But that fading worry turned ice in your veins when you turned around, because the being standing before you were neither Rumi nor Celine. It wasn’t even a human.

A demon.

This one had two eyes, it’s skin tight and red, glistening in a way skin didn’t, like a costume. It’s patterns glowing strongly under the fluorescent light.

It had the teeth of a predator—to long, too sharp, made to sink into muscle and tear—and claws like knives that could cut through flesh with ease. It was blocking off your exit out of the kitchen, cornering you in the room.

No, no, no! This was bad. They've never had a demon so bold as to invade their home before.

You couldn’t—Celine was nowhere near you. Busy fighting the influx of demons elsewhere in the city.

Rumi! Your brain screamed on instinct, you had to keep this from going after Rumi, you had to—no, she’s not here either. She’s with Celine, where she’s, ironically, safer.

You were the only one home.

You and a demon were the only ones here.

The demon seemed to have known that as well with the way it laughed, as if mocking you. You must have seemed like such easy prey when alone.

The demon lunged. You grabbed the pan off the burner and swung.

What followed was a reverberating scream as hot metal connected with its face, sending the demon reeling back. The smell of burned skin filled the kitchen.

You let out a hiss as the hot oil spilled onto your hand, pushing past the sizzling pain as you brandish the pan like a weapon. Sliced carrots and oil poured out of the pan and covered the kitchen floor.

The blow you delt it had only stunned the demon for a moment, unfortunately. It was on you again. You tried to dodge it; you tried to swing the hot pan at it again. But the creature had wised up to your tricks, knocking the attack aside to grab you by the wrist—

Hot pain coursed through you as your arm was sliced open.

You barely bit back the scream—maybe you didn’t hold it back at all—as you were wrenched to the side, the demon bringing you inches from its face, it’s mouth wide to take a bite.

You thrusted the pan upwards, jamming the hot metal into the demon’s mouth.

That proved far more effective than simply hitting the monster with the pan. It went stumbling back, clawing at its own face as it screamed in pain. Even with the pan gone, it still had the oil clinging to it.

This was your chance.

With the demon distracted by it's own pain, you made a break for it, running past the monster.

Keep your distance. Don't let it get close enough to touch you. Just hold out until Celine came home. Those were the rules. You just had to keep it occupied, keep it off you, until Celine came home.

Simple in theory.

So very much not simple in practice.

The floor was wet, slippery with the mix of oils, food, and your own blood dripping from your arm. One wrong step and your foot slid out under you, sending you careening to the floor—

With a harsh tug your fall came to a sudden stop, your face a breath from tile as the demon held you by your injured arm.

You only had a moment to even process what had happened before it was twisting your arm in its grip—you felt something in the limb go pop, blossoming with new pain—as it dragged you back up. Dragging you back to it.

With your free arm, you reached behind you blindly, grabbing one of the bowls and swung your arm back around to strike the demon.

It didn’t work. It caught the bowl with it’s own free hand and threw it across the kitchen. The sound of glass shattering filled your ears.

Moments later you were being thrown across the kitchen after it. Skittering across the tiles and shards of glass, your head connecting with the hard frame of the kitchen island with a resounding crack.

Dazed. You could see stars mixed with the growing dark spots in your visions.

For a moment you think you saw the Honmoon—glittering light threading across the ground. Pretty, you thought numbly. Like the staves of a music sheet. Just needed to put some notes in it and then it'd be a song. Maybe Celine could play its song. She plays such pretty music.

There was a dull throb in the back of your head and when you pulled your hand away there was a thick layer of blood on your fingers, sticky and wet.

Faintly, you knew that wasn’t a good thing, but your brain was playing ping-pong in your skull and for the life of you, you couldn’t think of why.

Claws wrapped around your ankle, cutting into the tender, fragile flesh and tendons, as you were dragged across the floor.

The jolts of pain helped you stay conscious even as the darkness at the edges of your vision began spreading. The demon had your leg in its hand, lifting you up, jaw unhinging as it leaned in to take a bite.

Something crashed in the distance.

Dark shapes surged into the room and onto the demon. There was a loud crunch as twin blades drove into it’s arm, cutting through meat and bone, forcing it to drop you.

No sooner had you hit the ground did another blur of a figure fly past you, knocking the demon back and tackling it to the ground.

“Get away from her!”

Oh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Celine look so furious.

Something soft wedged itself beneath your head and shoulders, your new position helped ease the nauseating dizziness just a bit, but did little for the way your consciousness was flickering in and out.

“No, no, no!” Oh. That was Rumi above you. You think that was Rumi. She was really, really blurry, but you’d recognize that shade of purple and braid-shaped smudge anywhere. Why did she look so scared? “Celine! Her head’s bleeding really badly—what do I do?”

Bleeding? Silly cub. That wasn’t blood, that’s just the bibimbap sauce.

Rumi was staring at you, confusion mixing with her hysteria. Had you said something odd?

Your eyes flickered back down to where Celine was on top of the demon, you tried to focus on her, on her movements, but your eyelids were getting so heavy.

Faintly, you could still hear Rumi talking to you from above, but her voice had become just as blurry as your vision, muffled, like there were layers of water between her and yourself—

You awoke feeling stiff, confined.

To say that everything hurt would have been an understatement of monumental proportions. You could barely lift your arm without grimacing in pain.

“Don’t move! Please, don’t! You might tear one of your stitches!”

Stitches?

Groggily, you realized that confining feeling was because of all the bandages wrapped around you, and sure enough there were stitches beneath them. You almost felt like a mummy in that moment.

You blinked, slowly turning your head to the best of your ability, and then blinked again, willing your vision to focus.

Rumi was there, standing before you as you laid in your bed.

Her eyes were red and puffy; her cheeks soaked with tears. Her arm was sloppily bandaged up, there was a bruise on her left cheek, and a cut along her temple. She hadn’t come out of that fight unscathed, and your heart ached for it.

Your immediate instinct was to reach out and start fretting over her, to make sure whoever had bandaged her up had done a good and proper job.

But that would require you moving, and right now moving hurt.

“Are you okay, cub?” you settled on, your voice felt hoarse, your throat scratchy.

Rumi let out something between a sob and a laugh. “You’re asking if I’m okay?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re the one who almost—who almost—”

The words caught in her throat as she let out a whine, new tears building up and falling from her eyes as she all but threw herself onto you, burying her face in your chest, letting out a loud cry.

“I was so scared, you stopped moving—you were bleeding so much!” Rumi whimpered, clinging desperately to you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry! I should have listened to you and Celine. I should have stayed here, if I had then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt!”

Slowly, carefully, biting back the hiss of pain, you raised your arm and rested it on Rumi’s back, gently rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades.

“If you had stayed with me, it’d be Celine in this bed instead.”

Between the tears she’d managed to explain to you that Celine had gone back out there—hunting down any straggling demons, fortifying the tear as best she could. She should be back soon, so don’t worry.

Was there anything she could get you in the meantime? Anything Rumi could do to make you more comfortable? Water? Tea? Were you hungry?

Celine had said you couldn’t have anything heavy since you hit your head hard, but she could make you some soup if you were hungry, some broth should be light enough.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of the concussion, but the mention of food had sparked a laugh from you, and an apology. “There might be some side dishes that survived, if you're hungry. Maybe the rice. But sorry I didn’t get a chance to finish cooking for you two.”

That had earned you a light admonish.

Who cared if you didn’t get dinner done? All they cared about was that you were okay! Don’t even worry about cleaning up the mess, she and Celine would take care of that. You just needed to focus on resting, on healing.

There wasn’t any kind of argument you could muster against her at that. So you didn’t. You just nodded your head and watched as the tension bled out of her.

You weren’t sure just how much time had passed after that. Rumi had insisted on staying at your side, and you couldn’t say no to her, not when you were sure that would only have her cry and probably panic. Eventually she had cried herself to sleep curled up against your side.

That was the position you two remained in when Celine eventually stepped into the room, her footsteps quiet, as if to not disturb you. She looked even more haggard than usual.

The moment her eyes met yours, that she saw you were awake, she was at your other side, sitting on the bed and carefully combing her nails through your hair. “Yeobo,” she whispered, her voice on the verge of breaking.

You smiled back up at her, catching her other hand and tilting your head so you could press a kiss to her bruised and bleeding knuckles. “I’m fine, we’re fine,” you murmured. All three of you were here and alive. Maybe a little banged up, but you would all recover.

Celine didn’t cry, not like Rumi had, but she dipped head down to press her forehead to yours, taking in a sharp, shuddering breath. “We’re fine,” she echoed.

It took several weeks before the final bandage had come off.

Any time Rumi and Celine weren’t spending hovering over you, they spent training. Rumi pushing herself harder and harder, both determined to not let something like this happen again.

Celine had told you one time, while Rumi was in the garden, practicing her sword swings, that it was Rumi who had dragged her back to the house that night. That Rumi had felt something was wrong.

If Rumi hadn’t, if she hadn’t gone running back to the house with Celine, you likely wouldn’t be here.

It was an instinct of some kind. Celine wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but she suspected that Rumi might be able to sense the presence of demons. She wasn’t certain yet, and she didn’t want to bring it up to Rumi.

The girl had enough on her plate; Celine didn’t want to make things harder for her by adding demon powers to the mix of things Rumi would need to worry over.

“Sunlight Studios is going to officially start auditions for a new idol group next month. It's time for a new generation to take the stage,” Celine murmured as she rested her chin on your shoulder, watching Rumi practice through the glass of the sliding door. “I can’t hold off the demons by myself anymore, the Honmoon can't survive much longer on my voice alone."

A new generation.

That meant Rumi.

“She’s so young, I don’t want this kind of life for her,” you murmured.

Sure, Rumi may be fifteen, she may have grown into a skilled swordswoman. But you still saw that little girl carrying a teddy bear, the cub who’d come running to you with tears in her eyes over scrapped knees.

She was growing up too fast.

“She won’t be going into the fray immediately. The other Hunters will need to be trained. That could take a year or two before they’re ready,” Celine assured you, holding you tighter on her lap. “She’ll have people who can watch her back, protect her. Her fights wont end like mine do. They’ll do better than me. They’ll be better.”

You took a deep, steadying breath.

There was nothing you could say, nothing you could do, that would change this. You’ve all known this day would come, sooner or later. You’ve had just hoped it would be later.

“Promise me that whoever you select will take care of her,” you said, your voice firm. “I don’t care how good their voices are, how strong they are with the Honmoon. None of it matters if they won’t care for and be there for her.”

“Of course,” Celine murmured against your skin.

“And train them well, train them right,” you continued, fidgeting your fingers against hers. “Make sure they can keep themselves, and each other, safe.”

“I will.”

“And you have to—” you faltered with a groan, your body sagging. “I’m not ready for this. But, it’s Rumi. She’ll do what she does best and do better than anyone can predict.”

That earned a soft laugh from Celine. “That she will. She’s already leagues better than I was at her age. She’ll be fine.”

Despite your better judgement, you believed her.

Rumi was strong, she was brilliant, she was your brave little tiger cub. But she was no more little, and no less brave. And she was going to do what tigers did.

She was going to keep the world safe.

Yall can thank @weepingwillow-writes for this one <3

Tagged Users: @rumiskimbap @wisteria-w1sp @koda-lupinn @lbcreations-blog @t-wylia @tinysoap @fandomgoddes05 @needygir1106 @nagapabubumjuoogi @shinyakii @the-abyss05 @cra96 @tejakabuttons @alexkolax @aymmgreen @moontides19 @megamultifandomtrashposts @zhivaxo @ooremey @listlesslylistening @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @pinkaliciousx @viitalvile @screechcat @cherry--00 @waltermis @natashasilverfox

This woman has a LOT of healing to do after everything. Generational trauma of her own, the whole thing with Miyeong, having to not only raise a half-demon child (not even her own but moreso a ghost of one of her closest) that defied reality but to manage reinforcing and holding onto the Honmoon ON HER OWN since god knows where the last Sunlight Sisters member went, and then the whole breaking point with Rumi wanting Celine to kill her

It'll take time to not just parse it all, but to mend things between her and Rumi (and Zoey and Mira by proxy). And even then things wouldn't ever be the same anymore, not when Rumi starts to slowly accept her patterns and goes against that mantra that Celine herself has lived in for decades

But when she does seek out the help, when she does actually start to work on herself after the movie's events, she gradually feels lighter. All that responsibility she's had on her shoulders for so long to the point where it had put her completely off-kilter at the end with what was basically two steps away from what could've been the worst possible outcome? Slowly alleviated to the point where it actually feels like she can breathe

It gives her the awareness that she most definitely was not a good adult figure for Rumi (she still doesn't feel like she has the right to call herself Rumi's mother, not now, not ever) and that there are things she definitely screwed up, yes, but at least she has that sort of acceptance that has her opening up to a lot of stuff instead of trapping herself in a hole by her own self. THIS includes dating!!!!

Celine's been basically alone for god knows how long—even before Rumi, idol life doesn't really give you the allowance to date anyone unless you want to risk a scandal—so this woman has NO clue of where to actually start in this day and age. She doesn't understand the way the dating pool works and it is NOT like she has anyone to ask, certainly not the girls bc one it feels. Embarrassing. And two bc she's kinda trying not to get in their way; they're their own people, and they've proved that they're more than capable of their duties as Hunters (perhaps even more so than herself)

So she installs a dating app after searching up "how to start dating at an older age" 😭. However she DOES actually put a different name than her own. This woman still has a reputation—one word that Celine of Sunlight Sisters is putting herself up on the market? GAME OVER she'll be SWARMED and the girls'll KNOW and it is SO OVER for her. Plus in the case that whoever she matches with actually does know her? She doesn't want that to influence the person's feelings yk :( not when she's opening herself up to something genuine after so long

She wouldn't expect to get a lot of matches, which is Crazy bc her facecard is genuinely so fucking lethal. Using Hinge as my reference 😝 but the pictures she posts up is like. Mostly faceless pics, like pics of the environment, things she's made, maybe one of her studio 🙂‍↕️ and the only pic of HERSELF is. Well. She looks slightly confused, but with the angle she uses and the way she's basically a MASTER of the camera, even despite being basically retired, it looks so stylistic that it's hard NOT to swipe right at her or anything

She'd have EXTREMELY high standards, so when matches Do come in, when she talks to them and they say like One wrong thing she kinda Ghosts instantly. She's working on her black-and-white worldview, but her standards? That is Not changing. One wrong thing and she's gone Bye Bye! She's not afraid to call people out on it either 🤷‍♀️

This DOES mean that she's kinda not finding a lot of success with dating apps, however. Is she getting a lot of people? Sure. But whether it's smth they say or do, or maybe something's just ticking her off in particular, none of them just seem right. At some point she starts thinking that Maybe it's too late for her to date...........until she matches with you

Celine doesn't know why or how, but you haven't set off any warning bells in her head as you two talk. It actually has her feeling sceptical bc after constantly meeting disappointment left and right, you're actually the first person that she's actually looking forward to talking to??? It's a new feeling, strange and refreshing, and she doesn't actually know how to feel about it after guarding herself for so long

It's when the two of you actually organise a first date/meet tgt when she decides to see for herself whether you're someone she'll have to ditch like everyone else.. or risk getting close to

Celine is a restless person. Has been for a good majority of her life, for better or worse.

It wasn't like she was restless in the typical sense that she had to keep moving, though the moving did help alleviate it sometimes. It was the type of restlessness that helped her during her days as a Sunlight Sister, and the same type that accompanied her when it all fell apart after. Right now, even in the midst of learning to let go of the guard she desperately held onto like a lifeline, that restlessness refused to leave her.

But in this moment, she was restless because of something else. Someone new.

You.

It wasn't like she was clueless about romance—she could count the amount of dalliances and relationships she's had with one hand, but she still wasn't completely clueless—but it had been far too long (decades, perhaps) since she last dared to indulge without the overwhelming weight of duty and caution resting on her shoulders. Being guarded for so long, however, has changed her views and standards on a lot of things, and that included things such as whether someone was, as Zoey often says, a 'red flag' or a 'green flag'; she understood after a brief explanation, but it served as yet another reminder of how out-of-touch she now was while clinging onto tradition, the only thing she really had eyes on for perhaps far too long.

She was ready to give up on finding love in her old age, and yet there you were.

Matched.

And before she knew it, she told you her actual identity, for better or worse, and eventually she had organised a.. date with you.

(Not as if this was the first out of many dates she's ever attended through her search, but this was the first that made her feel that sort of restlessness, as if this was—you were—something important.)

Now here she was, standing outside of a classy restaurant that she had mentioned she liked in passing during one of your conversations before you proposed to make it the location for your first date—not a surprise, never a surprise, not when she had told you she has a particular dislike for surprises (though she doesn't tell you of the why). She was simply standing outside.. and she wanted to pace as thoughts clouded her mind.

They often did, it wasn't new, but they were particularly bothersome today despite its comparatively miniscule level of importance compared to the demons she had to slay and the tearing Honmoon she had to repair, amongst other things within that vein. No, instead it was little things—silly things—like where you were, and why you weren't here yet, and perhaps she got the time wrong (she didn't, she's checked multiple times and she was early), and if you decided to ditch her all along, and--

"Celine..?"

The call for her name snapped her back into focus and her body tensed as she swivelled around, her dress following the motion, to see.. you.

Just you. In your own formal attire.

(The woman was trying not to stare because come now, fawning over someone's looks as if she were still some teenager? Please.)

Her shoulders untensed incrementally and she spoke calmly enough, though her eyes had narrowed at your presence, "[Y/N]. I thought I've already addressed my dislike for surprises."

"I know that, but you were lost in your head. I tried to call out for you when I approached but you didn't respond," you explained matter-of-factly, like you weren't much bothered for her sudden frostiness. And as if that weren't enough, you added, "I know you mentioned not liking sudden movements in your line of sight either, so that was honestly the best I could do instead of waving a hand at your face."

..She did say that. And she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to say anything.

Huh.

You had just called her out and stood your ground.

Her gaze watched you and the way you stood, waiting for her reply patiently rather than whimpering like a fool or getting completely defensive, and the tension seems to leave her body at the realisation of a lack of a threat. "Ah. I suppose I was.. out of sorts." And she bows her head lightly to you, "My apologies."

You simply waved it off with a chuckle, "Don't worry. I can get in my head a lot too. Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head, though she finds herself.. not automatically frowning or feeling some sort of tense pinching between her eyebrows for once, "No. It's nothing important."

She expected you to get invasive (though so far, really, she's been trying to expect the worst), but you simply hummed and nodded as if you understood, "Okay. More time for us then. Though speaking of... I thought I'd get here early to wait for you, but you got here earlier."

"..Yes."

"Cute." (Her? No.) "But why?"

Why did she come here earlier than she needed to? Because she was punctual? Because she no longer really needed to delay her departure to the last possible moment for the sake of watching over Rumi as much as possible? Because she was.. actually looking forward to meeting this one person who had her hopes up? Or maybe...

"I wanted to see if you would truly show yourself," Celine answers, and she can't help but look away despite her decades of experience with looking at unfavourable truths in the eye, whether it be the camera or impending doom, "or if I shouldn't bother to waste my time any further."

Because she doesn't have the time to really waste. Not when she's used it up for the sake of the world. Not when she pushed everyone and everything away with the fear that it'll all crumble if her faults and fears were ever seen if anyone got too close. And even now, even as she had worked tirelessly on herself and the prejudices that tradition had drilled into her at the cost of feeling, that instinct to push people—push you—away still held fast.

But instead, you just.. take a step closer. And then, you smiled at her reassuringly, your voice like a sudden drop of clarity in a rushing current of self-torment, "I don't want to waste time either, which is why I wanted to come here early. I wanted to get to know you beyond the screen, and I wanted to do it as soon as I could."

"But why? I'm sure there are others that'd be less.. difficult to get along with," the insecurity had slipped out on its own, and she didn't really have a heart to take it back—she wanted to know your answer.

And you give her that answer, "Because I like you," as if it were the simplest little thing in the world.

Yet it melted the rest of her tension in an instant. All that was left was her restlessness, but this was a different sort. A new form of restlessness.. or rather, that feels like the wrong term for it.

Eagerness. Eager to try.

..She hasn't felt that in decades.

From then on :( it is genuinely so smooth sailing :(. You have your first date, a dinner date at that restaurant, and from then on it kinda continues. Compared to everything else in life before therapy had her letting go of it, she felt so unbelievably pressured by everything. And yet being with you has been the least pressured she's ever felt which is crazy bc she honestly expected there to be at least SOME pressure. But there isn't. You happily accept what she gives you, and I think she'd REALLY appreciate it if you stood your ground with her too—she likes having that form of accountability check, esp when she can get too much sometimes

And yk what? She's honestly a really good gf!! This woman is UNBELIEVABLY attentive of you and your needs, even when you don't even know that you need smth. She doesn't express her affection with words a lot, she doesn't really trust herself to say the right thing at first, but she likes to express it through action and stuff

She'd also really adore kissing you, yes on the mouth but I mean particularly everywhere else. Forehead, cheek, knuckles, that kinda thing. Whenever she does, she also has this cute pink dusting her cheeks at first, though she tends to pretend it's not there HAHA

Being with you has been the happiest she's actually been, and honestly? That is a FIRST for any of the HUNTR/X members. Like, Zoey and Mira are asking Rumi if she's Ever seen Celine like this before—smiling softly at her phone, humming as she cleaned the house, that kind of thing. To which Rumi says No bc she is as shocked as they are 😭 like where did this COME FROM????

Are they glad for her? Yes! They are! They might still hold a little bit of animosity for her, but honestly that's just smth they'll all have to live with (esp Celine and Rumi) and they'd have made amends at this point so they CAN see kinda why she used to be Like That, so therefore they all generally agree that Celine deserves to be happy after basically also fighting her own battles for so long. So for them to see Celine genuinely happy was a GOOD thing......but also Really weird. And this trio 😭 is nothing but nosy 😭 they're like overgrown children 😭

"Are.. you sure it's okay to sneak in like this? I mean, I support whatever the two of you do," Zoey whispered as she watched Rumi slip the key into the lock, "but is this.. safe? This is Celine."

Mira, meanwhile, chuckled on Rumi's opposite side, "You say that, but this was your idea."

"There's a difference between ideas and reality, Mira--"

"Either way," Rumi cut in as the lock clicked, "it's a bit too late to turn back around."

"Rumi, acting brave doesn't work when you have patterns that act like your own personal mood ring."

"Yeahhh it's kinda doing this weird colour disco and usually that means you're thinking if this'll be worth the hit."

"And neither of you are helping with the commentary!"

"Sorry!" "Sor-- wait, do you hear that?"

The three of them quiet down as Rumi slowly, carefully opens the door so that the three of them could listen further in without actually going in, and sure enough.. they hear two voices—a distinctly breathless laugh, followed by a hum? ..Or a--

Zoey gripped onto Rumi's bicep as she rushed out with a hushed voice and wide eyes, "IS THAT CELINE?"

Mira easily mirrored Zoey with Rumi's other bicep, "Sounds like she's not alone either. Or she is and she's gone psycho."

Rumi straightened up, her girls following yet still holding onto her, "Oh, that's a completely different person. But what are they doing?"

"Two guesses on what's going on."

"I don't think I want to know."

"I do. She's been too.." Mira trailed off as she searched for the word, her eyes narrowed at the house's interior, "..happy lately."

"..And that's a bad thing?"

"Who knows, it's new territory. Either way, I want to know why."

"Celine might really kill us this time," Zoey shrugged, "but me too."

Rumi groaned, yet she chewed on her lip for a brief moment before sighing, "..Yeah, okay, me too. So.. going in?"

"Yep." "Mhm!"

And they all step in, following Rumi's lead as they sneak in closer to the sounds quietly resounding through the usually-quiet-and-empty halls of this house, their stances slightly crouched and their palms ready to summon their spirit weapons if need be.

They get quieter.. and closer.. and closer, to the living room...

"..taste so good, Celine..."

"No need to.. joke-- nh..."

"But I'm not..."

..and they peek at the figures on the couch from the doorway and--

"WHAT?!"

"GOD--" "FUCK--"

The two of you were in the midst of making out, with you bending down to kiss her from above as one of your hands had wandered to squeeze the skin of her waist as her shirt had ridden up, with the intention of exploring up even more. Celine, meanwhile, had a hand gripping your hip and another hugging around your upper back and pulling you in as close as possible.

Keyword: were.

Thanks to the sudden interruption, you were startled enough that your other hand, initially leaned beside Celine's head for balance, had slipped to the edge of the couch, causing you to slip and fall. Your lover does try to catch you, yes, but the ongoing fall causes the both of you to topple down together on the carpet with a dull thud.

The two of you and the mystery intruder with long, purple hair were all rendered to silence at the sudden event—the purple-haired woman noticeably cringing in a way that was akin to a child realising that maybe she screwed up a little—and two other figures, one tall with pink hair and one short with a derpy-looking cat hoodie, emerged from behind her with equally shocked faces.

"Who..?"

"Oh. My god." And Zoey's face brightens significantly at the realisation, "Celine's been happy because she's in love! Aww!"

"Wh-- buh--"

Mira elbowed their leader with a snort, the surprise overridden by her ridiculous reactions, "You sound like a gaping fish."

"I-- I HAVE A RIGHT TO SOUND LIKE A--"

"Rumi."

"YES, CELINE?"

"What was so important that you needed to come here without further notice?"

"ISN'T THIS MY HOUSE TOO?? It's not like I was expecting to see you with someone's tongue in your--"

"RUMI!"

"I'M SORRY."

Celine pinches the bridge of her nose as she gets up from the floor, but then she hears the start of a laugh coming out of you from beside her.. and she can't help but--

"Mira, is that Celine smiling?"

"Without the cameras? That's a first."

She narrowed her eyes, "Do you have something to say?"

"Nope." "NO ABSOLUTELY NOT. QUIET AS A MOUSE."

It is then, that you get up yourself and looked between your girlfriend and the trio of colourful (literally) characters, "I'm guessing these are the girls you mentioned. They seem fun."

"They.. yes. I suppose," Celine sighed, a touch of fondness to her tone. She doesn't quite lean into your side, not while they were here, but she moves her hand so that your pinkies touch. "They can be nuisances like this, but.. I find that it's not so bad."

When introductions are made, Rumi is still Shellshocked, Mira is amused, Zoey is absolutely BUZZING and Celine is tired (in an affectionate way). It's not like she wasn't planning to introduce them to you, but.........she kinda.......wasn't planning on doing so until like Later on in case it really doesn't pan out..................and MAYBE it'd be kind of like a "you didn't ask" sort of thing............listen the woman is Basically new to the whole relationship thing okay 😭 they're mindboggled at how you've been going strong for months without saying anything though

As much as the trio's reactions are certainly a mix, however, the general consensus is that they're actually really happy for her!! Honestly you seem really good for her, and they've found that she's been smiling more often, or at the very least her expression feels more at peace compared to the rest of the time they've known her. ESPECIALLY Rumi, as someone who's basically been RAISED by her, bc through her whole life it felt like Celine had that sort of distance or wall she couldn't pass through. But as of late, it doesn't feel like it's there anymore. Sure the therapy and recovery DEFINITELY helped a lot, but since you two started your relationship and before she found out, she couldn't put her finger on it but Celine feels more.....open now yk? She's genuinely proud and happy for her :( and they have a little bonding moment over it

You end up being like? The second unofficial parent? The first unofficial dad is OBVIOUSLY Bobby and this is NOT a polycule but you're like the other fun parent that they keep wanting to hang out with to see why Celine likes you AND just bc genuinely they just wanna hang w you when they're not busy. Celine, for her part, is actually relieved that the girls get along with you. They're not her children, ofc not, but she's been mentoring them for a good while that it feels somewhat close to that (even if she didn't want to face that fact before). She doesn't realise it, but it's actually the final confirmation within her that has her going "ah. You're the one", even if she speaks of them like they're nuisances (affectionately)

Overall :3c everyone's happier for it yk :3c and also it's all so amusing but :3c treat her well okay!!!

It had been months since you’d been able to sit with her and just relax. Often, as a former Hunter herself, she’d spend time training, wanting to ensure her skills were still sharp in the case of an unexpected attack. When she’d pry herself away from said training, she’d take some time to visit Ryu’s grave to pay her respects.

You’d come with her most days to do the same, but she’d always stay far longer than you, sometimes spending half of the day tending to the flowers decorating the headstone. Sometimes she’d just talk.

By the time she’d make it back home, it was usually long past midnight, and she’d often come into the bedroom to find you fast asleep, one of her pillows tucked into your chest and a spare shirt of hers tugged over your shoulders.

The sight made her melt every time, but she wished she could spend more quality time with you.

Thankfully, once the Honmoon was finally sealed, she had more of an opportunity. There were still nights where she couldn’t fall asleep at the same time as you. There were still days where she was away for most of the hours. There were hours and hours on end where her heart ached for the chance to stay by your side for good.

But finally, she started to find ways to clear up her schedule and rest with you the way you’d done long before she had even been an idol. Beyond watching trash TV and cuddling up together in bed or on the sofa in the den, the two of you would share meals. Many times, you’d walked back into the house after a short trip to the store to find a small setup at the dining table.

A couple of candles, two plates with your favorite dish, and Celine standing nearby, only to greet you and sit you down to eat and talk.

You adored those nights almost as much as she did. That glimmer in her eye — the one you’d seen nearly every day when you’d first started dating back in your late teens and early twenties — was back, and it always shone brightest during those small date nights.

To her, it was like reliving those first moments she fell for you. When things were still fresh. She could recall easily the way her stomach would flutter and flip with every charming smile you sent her way. Even without trying, you had left her a stammering mess back then.

It was amusing to her to know that the roles had reversed. More often than not, she was the one flustering you with flattery and fleeting touches. Still, there was the odd moment where you reclaimed that role and rendered her speechless and shy.

She could never complain about it though. She loved that she could let her guard down around you, even if it did lead to you teasing her for the crimson creeping over her cheeks and up her ears. The sound of your soft laughter and the sight of your lips pulled into a gleeful smile made the small bit of embarrassment worth it.

The nights always ended in bed — or occasionally on the sofa. Huddled beneath blankets to shield you both from the cold, pillows propped beneath you to comfortably cushion your weight, and the lights off to let the glow from the TV pull your full focus in, the two of you would always bundle up together before bed and watch a movie.

Unless her body was too weak from the overexertion she put herself through, you’d be the one to curl into her chest. Her arms would drape around you protectively as if to guard you from a nonexistent threat. Aside from the few scenes that would force her to pay attention — mostly the ones that confused or irritated her — she’d let her head fall to rest on top of yours.

There were a few nights where you’d glance up at her to find her fast asleep — or struggling to keep her eyes open. You’d smile each time. You knew she wanted to stay awake and watch the full film with you, but with how much weight she carried on her shoulders on a daily basis, it was sometimes impossible for her to do so.

Even though the small frown that would greet you the next morning, combined with a tired apology, would leave a familiar warmth spreading throughout your chest, you assured her every time without fail that you didn’t mind. That you understood. Her mind and body needed to rest far more than she let them. In all honesty, you wished she’d fall asleep earlier regardless of her insistence to watch something together.

Similar to many nights before, you were rested comfortably in her arms, though this time you were seated between her legs, your back leaned against her front. Her chin propped itself up on the hollow between your neck and shoulder as her eyes gazed ahead at the screen. The lack of interest in the scene had ultimately led to her fingers slipping beneath your shirt and dancing randomly across your stomach.

Each caress of the pads of her fingers against your skin prompted you to shiver. Had it not been for her heightened senses caused by decades of training, it would’ve gone unnoticed, but it was clear from her small chuckle by your ear that she was very aware of your reaction. Still, that was as far as it went. She kept her attention on the screen, even if she wasn’t necessarily processing the story, but she let her hands continue to caress and soothe you.

You hummed and let your eyes fall shut for just a moment. It felt heavenly to have her so close. It felt even better to have her hands, rough and calloused yet perfectly gentle, tracing patterns against your skin. Sleep called to you. The sense of serenity her safety provided lulled you into a state of calm, and you were ready to give in to the temptation of rest.

That’s when you felt her hands freeze against you. Where they were once relaxed and partially limp, now they grew rigid, and it was clear from the way her fingers flexed and twitched that she was fighting the urge to sink crescents into your flesh. Brows furrowed, you pried your eyes open again and glanced over at her. “Celine?” You whispered calmly. “You okay?”

A small grunt greeted you in reply before her hands dipped down to grab hold of your hips. Without warning, she tugged them into her own, essentially bucking herself against your lower back and letting you fully grasp why she’d grown so tense.

Her erection made itself known. Even behind her sweatpants and boxers, you could feel her cock throbbing with need, though you weren’t sure what caused the sudden spark of arousal. As her hands slid back up your shirt and began to grope at your breasts, you looked back at the screen to try to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when it all clicked. On the screen, the two main characters — two women who vaguely resembled Celine and yourself — were in bed, only partially covered by the sheets. A sex scene. That’s what had gotten her so riled up. You whimpered, feeling her fingers pinch your nipples and roll them between them.

Her hips rocked rhythmically against you as her breathing grew ragged and uneven beside your ear. When you tried to move a bit to get more comfortable, her hands bolted down, fingers snaking themselves tightly around your wrists like a vice. You took a deep breath. You already knew where this was going.

“Don’t,” she snarled out, keeping you in place between her knees. “Just be good for me. It’s your fault for choosing this movie.” Your lips parted. You wanted to argue, to tell her that you had no idea that the scene still playing just ahead was in the film at all, but you knew that was a lie.

You’d known there was a sex scene, although you didn’t know when it would play. There hadn’t been a chance for you to brace yourself entirely for the consequences. In truth, you wanted her to get worked up — to take control. It was all working perfectly. Still, you swallowed hard, your heart already pounding against your ribs as you thought of what she would do to you to satisfy herself.

There wasn’t a single moment for you to ask what she needed from you. Within an instant, she was forcing you forward until your face and chest were pressed firmly against the mattress, your ass in the air as she settled herself between your knees behind you. Her chest moved to rest on your back.

You winced a bit at the feeling of her nails digging into your arms, your lips suppressing a gasp of surprise and relief when she finally began moving, her hips rutting desperately into you and letting her restricted cock grind into your clothed core.

It only lasted briefly, much to your dismay. A second after she leaned back, her hands left your wrists, only to grasp at the hem of your shorts and tug them down to settle at your ankles. There was a bit of shuffling for a moment before she slid the crotch of your panties to the side.

She hovered over you again, though now the tip of her cock — slick with precum and arousal — rested itself just at your entrance, throbbing and begging for stimulation. Her fingers once again coiled around your wrists, then pulled them back until your arms were flat against your sides, effectively keeping you pinned in front of her.

Even as she pushed the head inside of you and sucked in a shaky breath, her voice was still soft as she spoke. “Tell me if I need to stop.” You could only offer a nod, your throat clenched too tightly around your words to speak properly, especially as she began to sink her cock further into you. Hung open in a silent, broken cry, your mouth provided no sound for the longest time.

It wasn’t until you readjusted to her size stretching you out that you could moan in appreciation. The noise alone prompted her to slam the rest of the way inside, uncaring of the way your body jolted beneath her until she came back to her senses. As your limbs trembled against the sheets, she pressed a small kiss to the back of your shoulder, her grip on your arms loosening a bit. “Is this okay?”

Your words formed on your tongue, ready to finally answer her properly, but your nerves focused in on the way she pulsed inside of you, and you were left with another moan erupting past your lips. Similar to before, you could only nod.

“Good,” she whispered, her hips already starting to rock and move. “Because I want you to feel what you’ve done to me. I want you to feel how badly I need this. How badly I need you.”

She leaned down further, teeth briefly latching onto the shell of your ear and giving it a small tug before letting go. Already, her thrusts had deepened and quickened. Even without being able to see her face, you knew she had that smug smirk on her face, the same one she always had when she knew you weren’t even going to pretend to fight back.

She was smug during those times because she knew the pleasure she gave you with every long, deep stroke into your core was too strong for you to feign dissatisfaction against. You needed her just as much as she needed you. That’s what inflated her ego.

“You can feel that, can’t you? Feel me claiming you with every thrust?” Her tone had lowered. Her voice was raspy, deepened by desire that nearly left her words in a note of huskiness. Every nerve beneath your skin felt like it had been set ablaze, the spark responsible for the ignition lying within every movement she made against you. You’d hardly heard her speaking to you, your mind numb and your eyes clouding over with tears, bliss blooming deep in your belly and spreading all the way up to your brain.

Her motions slowed as she leaned to the side to gawk at you properly. “Are you okay?” Desperate for her to return to the level of friction she’d brought you a moment before, you nodded frantically. At the sight of your enthusiasm, she hummed, hips rolling forward quicker.

Already, you could feel that tightness forming in your stomach. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs. You could feel your lungs struggling to expand to meet the pace of your ragged breaths, which only grew more uneven as her thrusts intensified to a brutal pace — a telltale sign that she was getting close.

“You going to be a good girl and take it all?” Her hand slid down to your throat as she spoke, rough fingers clasping over the skin and tugging up with just enough force to lift your head. Her pointer finger pushed lightly against your jaw until you faced her, albeit at a bit of a crooked angle. When you resorted to your wordless reply again, she shook her head, lightly squeezing your neck. “Use your words, love.”

You whimpered, a sound she took great delight in hearing. Still, she kept her demand stern, her thrusts slowing just enough to taunt you to get her way. Grunting, your voice finally settled back into your chest, allowing you to speak. “Yes,” you murmured, voice breaking, your throat raw and sore from all of the whimpers and cries. “Yes, I’ll be good for you. I’ll take it all.”

She grinned again and carefully lowered your head back onto the mattress, a gentle motion that provided a stark contrast in the way both of her hands gripped your hips, her nails digging into your skin and nearly drawing blood as she practically slammed you back against her. “That’s all I needed to hear,” she stammered out after letting out a guttural groan.

The sheer force of her thrusts alone left you rocking forward, and slowly, against her initial intentions, you began to sink down until you were flat against the sheets. Her pace continued, unrelenting and just as needy as before as she fucked you into a flatiron position. Spots began to line your vision. You knew what was coming next.

With her hands now propped up against the mattress on either side of your waist, you felt the knot in your belly tighten, tighten, tighten, until it finally released. Your mouth fell open into a broken cry as you clenched around her and came, coating her cock and making it far easier for her to plunge inside.

Usually, she’d slow her pace until she finished, not wanting to overwhelm you too much after your orgasm. It gave you time to catch your breath and simply enjoy the sensation of her cock massaging itself with your walls. You waited, eyes closed, for her to follow the usual routine, though your eyes were quick to flutter open as the pace continued, overstimulation already beginning to rush through your limbs in heavy waves.

Your fingers dug into the bedsheets in a white-knuckled grip, desperate to ground yourself as she kept up her ruthless thrusts. You parted your lips, trying to ask her why she hadn’t slowed down, only for her to cup her palm over your mouth and lean down, shushing you. “Shh, love. Just take it a little bit longer for me, okay? I’m so close,” she husked between heavy panting.

As much as you hated the convulsions that rippled through your body each time she bottomed out inside of you, you were in no position to argue. She was right: the only reason she’d gotten worked up in the first place was because of the movie that you chose. It was only fair to let her use you until she was satisfied.

Grunting against her palm, you nodded. She chuckled, letting her hand fall back onto the mattress, and she closed her eyes, trying to will her body into orgasm sooner. Even if she did want to “punish” you for causing her neediness, she didn’t want you to get too uncomfortable beneath her just so she could get off.

She pulled her focus to where your bodies met, listening to the lewd sounds of squelching and skin slapping, and paying attention to the way you clenched around her cock with every inward thrust. You were so soft and warm for her. You cushioned her every movement perfectly. It truly felt like she was on cloud nine every time she got to be so close to you.

Another few rapid thrusts met you from behind, but her hips shifted a bit shortly after, and her motions grew sloppy and uneven. Her breath hitched in her throat as it tightened, and as she pressed her body onto yours and snaked her arms around you to hold you flush against her, a relieved moan left her, her cock sinking into you fully to ensure every thick, white rope of her cum filled you.

The warmth from it all prompted you to close your eyes and sigh. She gave a few more lazy thrusts to milk her orgasm, but ultimately fell still on top of you, her chest rising and falling against your back as she tried to recompose herself. When she steadied her voice, she hummed, then pressed a small kiss to your head before she spoke. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You were so good for me.”

You shivered at the feeling of her cum trickling back out of you and pooling on the sheets between your legs, though you didn’t point out the mess. “Of course,” you responded after regaining your bearings. “Only for you.” It was hard to miss the way her lips curved into a contented smile against your skin at your words. She murmured something incoherent.

She’d already almost fallen asleep. You weren’t necessarily surprised, given how exhausted she’d been the past few days. Still, you could tell she was fighting against it just long enough to reply. Her hand dipped down, fingers grazing over your clit before moving down further to skim over where she was still buried inside of you. With another weak chuckle, she nodded, her hips rocking to remind you of the stretch she’d caused.

“Only for me,” she echoed through slurred words. You hummed, reaching for the remote and shutting the TV off, then gently taking hold of her hand. You lifted it to your lips and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

MIRA — liked to believe she was above all that sappy shit. Don't get her wrong, she's a sucker for romance and will absolutely devour a good drama or novel. She's had far too many dreams of having a picture perfect romance, and a small wedding. But as time went on, there was never anyone who met her standards. She didn't want to be tied down, and being an idol was her passion, so there was no way she'd be willing to give that up for anyone. So, she had given up on really falling in love with anyone.

And then you came into her life. A member of a dance crew who liked to do dance covers to HUNTR/X's songs. She met you when you and your crew were dancing to their most recent comeback, funnily enough, and she just couldn't help herself. She had to join in, and make sure you guys were doing the moves properly. It's the dancer in her, sorry not sorry. After getting past the whole freaking out stage of 'oh my god it's mira!!!' and whatnot, it was really easy and natural talking to you. It somehow ended with her getting your number, and following you on her private account.

Now, was it really unprofessional falling in love with a fan? Yeah. Did that stop her? Absolutely not. The way you moved to music, and the way you laughed at her dry and sarcastic remarks and easily played off them was just won her over so easily. Mira will only tell you how she feels once she's certain you've gotten over the fact she's an idol, and once she's sure you won't try pressuring her to leave the industry for the sake of a relationship.

ZOEY — honestly believes that there's nobody out there who'd be interested in dating her. She is deeply insecure when it comes to certain things, and is a people-pleaser to a fault. Stuff like that was overwhelming, and there's not a lot of people who'd be willing to stick around long enough while she works through it. It's not like she wants to be this way, she just is. And she is working on it, it's just... hard. Besides, she overthinks every little thing she does! Who would wanna deal with that? Relationships are a hassle anyway, haha...

But, by some miracle, you stuck around. You were a fellow idol, one she met during trainee days. You were one of her bestest friends, and she went to all of your concerts and bought all of your albums with every comeback. Somewhere along the way, you'd confessed that you loved her. It left her feeling... confused. Happy, and scared. Sick to her stomach. You didn't need an answer now, you said. You just wanted to let her know, you couldn't keep your feelings a secret anymore.

Zoey won't lie, she had a mild breakdown in the kitchen of the penthouse, and Rumi and Mira had to help her through it. You love her. You love her. You listened to her rambling, you sat with her whenever she felt down. You never once expected anything from her, and always encouraged her to be herself. You accepted every part of her with open arms, and it scared her to her core. You were perfect, why would you ever want her? She was a mess. She talked too much, talked too loud. She was too excited, too much, too fast. But... even though she was terrified at the mere thought of ruining her friendship with you, Zoey found herself wanting to try.

JINU — had far too much going on to even entertain the idea of falling in love. Considering the fact that he's a demon, plus an idol, trying to bring ruin to the world for his own selfish reasons... romance isn't something he's prioritizing. Or something he thinks he deserves, truth be told. Not to mention the fact that he's basically the manager for Saja Boys and has to keep four other demons in check to make sure they don't expose their identities or worse, get them canceled.

The only reason you two met was because he didn't have much of a choice but to find a real manager to help with the group. He might be a demon, but even he has his limits. And even though the entire situation was no doubt shady, you agreed to be their manager and it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It was meant to be a strictly professional relationship, one that would end with your soul being taken once the time was right.

But the universe was cruel, and Jinu's heart was far too human. He'd fallen in love with you, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the feelings to go away. It made it impossible for him to focus on the task at hand, because all he could think about was you and the bright smile you'd send his way whenever you guys would make eye contact during interviews and the like. The feelings he hold for you are strong enough that it has him greatly considering taking Rumi up on her offer to help her make a Golden Honmoon.

ROMANCE — likes to think that he's an expert in all things related to love, but he's really not. He's rather oblivious to it, to be honest. He loves watching dramas and reads far too many novels, but he's never been in a relationship himself. He's not sure if he's even had a crush on anyone. Not to say that he hasn't gotten any confessions, he gets those almost daily from fans all around the world. He'd never date a fan, though.

You were someone he'd met in passing, but somehow a friendship blossomed between the two of you. He talked to you almost every day, and refused to go to bed until he squeezed in at least an hour of conversation with you. No matter where he was, or what time it was. He could be in a different country on tour, and he'd stay up until sunrise to talk to you before you head to work. He talked about the others nonstop, and it isn't until Jinu tells him that he might be in love that it actually hits him.

Yeah. Yeah, he is. He has to be. He's never felt this way towards anyone before, and he always thought you were special. The realization excites him more than it scares him, and he's confessing to you the next time he sees you in person. How could he ever possibly keep his feelings a secret? His whole thing is love, and he has a lot to share.

ABBY — never really viewed himself as the romantic type. He's hot, and he plays off that to hook up with people he finds attractive. Really, one night stands and friends with benefits is all he'll ever need. That's what he told himself, at least. There's never been anyone he's been remotely interested in, and whenever one of his flings got too clingy he was cutting off all contact with them and moving on to the next. It's a routine he was comfortable with.

But then you came into his life. A bartender at the club he frequents whenever he's searching for some fun. He's tried seducing you far too many times, but you never caved. You weren't interested in one night stands, you'd said. You wanted something meaningful. It got a laugh out of him, but you were serious. So, he settled on being friends, without benefits.

He doesn't know when it happened, but somewhere down the line, things changed. He started making plans to hang out with you more often, going as far as to cancel plans with whoever his current fling was. Baby said he was no better than a dog, the way he'd perk up when you'd text or call. He'll try denying it, but there's no hiding the way he gravitates to you. He can only hope you'll be willing to give him a chance.

MYSTERY — is so painfully awkward and keeps people at arm's length, so it's more surprising that you somehow managed to worm your way into his life. You were one of Abby's hookups, so he really did not care about you. But then you showed up one morning wearing a shirt of this anime he'd recently gotten into, and he made a quiet compliment, which somehow resulted in you lighting up and going on this entire tangent about the characters and the story. It was... cute.

And it was enough to warm him up to you, even if only a bit, because whenever you'd drop by to 'hang out' with Abby, Mystery would somehow always hijack your attention. He always talked about things he knew you were passionate about, simply because he loved the way your eyes would light up, and you'd ramble like the words were being forced out of you. He knows he loves you, because he could listen to you talk about nothing and anything for hours on end.

The only reason he doesn't confess is because he was under the impression that you had a thing for Abby. Why else would you be willing to have such a physical relationship with him? It's only when Abby pats Mystery on the shoulder one night and says, 'You better treat them well.' that he realizes his feelings just might be reciprocated. And trust me, he'll burn heaven to ashes to give you the love you deserve.

BABY — has far too many dating scandals surrounding him that he doesn't even realize you're one of them until your company is reaching out to propose fake dating for publicity. You're an actor, apparently, and have an upcoming drama. You 'dating' a Saja Boy would stir up promotion for it. The only reason he actually agreed to it, much to the despair of Jinu, is because you seemed less than thrilled at the idea of entering a fake relationship with him. Baby is nothing if not a jackass.

Much to his surprise, however, he finds himself enjoying your company. You were so easy to annoy, and you didn't even try to hide your disdain whenever you two were left alone together. But you were a damn good actor, and if he didn't know any better, he would've assumed you were genuinely interested in him. It's not until the contract for the fake relationship comes to an end that he realizes how much he actually cares about you.

Even after you guys 'break up', Baby hangs around. And maybe the time you spent with him made you soft, because you never pushed him away. It's an odd situationship, but he enjoys it. You guys don't need to put a label on what you two have going on. As long as he can keep you in his life, he's fine with whatever you want to give him.

BOBBY — was always so busy with managing his girls that romance and dating wasn't something that ever crossed his mind. Unless it involved dating scandals, then it was all he could ever think about. people were desperate to know if any of the huntr/x members were dating, so he's gotten far too many calls related to that topic. And you just so happened to be a journalist. A well known one, at that. There's no telling how many relationships you've exposed in the idol industry.

He wanted to hate you, he really did. You got paid to expose private details of the lives of idols, and you didn't seem to care at all about it. But he kept bumping into you, and at some point, you gave him your number. He was convinced that it was because you wanted him to give you some dirt, but the girls thought otherwise. They're the only reason he actually called you, to be honest. That call lasted well into the night, and by the time you guys finally hung up, the sun was starting to rise.

The moment he realizes he's in love with you is when you casually refer to him as your boyfriend in the middle of a late night call with him. His mind quite literally shuts down, and he stumbles over his words. Turns out, you thought the two of you were in a relationship already. You'd been flirting with him for months, apparently, and those random dinners and movie nights were dates. It's a painfully awkward conversation, but it does end with the two of you officially getting together, so.

CELINE — was at a point in her life where romance really wasn't all that. her entire life had been dedicated to hunting demons, plus being an idol at the time meant she just didn't have the time to go out and meet people. It was by pure chance that she met you, let alone befriended you. Talking to you was just easy, and she found herself growing to enjoy your company the more time she spent with you.

The moment she realizes she's in love with you is the first time she calls you after having a nightmare. Nightmares were common for her, and she always suffered through the sickening dread that followed them by herself. But for some odd reason, she called you after having a particularly bad one, and the sound of your voice had her shoulders dropping as she exhaled. The weight of the world felt a lot less heavy with you around.

Pitter-patter of the rain thuds against your window, condensation collecting on the glass as you wait patiently for your kettle to whistle on the stove.

It's a cold night, but not a vicious storm. It's the one you'd always welcome to keep you company inside your small, lonely apartment.

'squeeEEEEEEeeee—'

You turn off the stove before your kettle lets out its high-pitched whistle into the night, humming a soft tune along with the music you put out to lessen the loneliness. The hot water poured into your mug made steam rise like an old friend, taking a deep breath to soak in the sweet smell of tea slowly brewing.

A knock came on your front door, causing you to halt and ponder if you had invited anyone over. After finding no recollection of an invite, you grew cautious as you stalked towards the door with a weapon behind you for safety.

"State your name and business."

You firmly demanded once within arm's length of the barrier separating you and the person standing in your building.

"(Y/N)? It's Celine…"

Your defenses dropped once a familiar voice responded. It made you sigh and open the door, hoping to greet an old friend with a smile, only for it to drop, as you witnessed the former idol's current state.

The once unwavering strength in those eyes was about to crumble any second now, trembling like her body that shivered from shielding something in her arms from the rain.

You could tell she was barely holding on by a thread to come over unannounced, surging through the downpour at night.

"I… I'm sorry…for coming w-without notice…"

Your gaze faltered to a worried one, seeing the idol and friend you used to look up to, reunited with you in a less fortunate situation.

The bundle in her arms squirmed, making you return to reality as a small noise came from it.

"I.."

"Get inside." Your voice cut her off; any excuses or explanation died on Celine's tongue as your steadfast figure stepped aside to usher her in.

Celine barely got her slippers off before she was seated on your ragged couch, soaking the cushions while you tend to her and Rumi's needs.

"Here. I don't want you catching a cold."

In your arms was a familiar set of pajamas, one that made her breath hitch at the sight of the clothing.

She pauses, looking down at the infant in her arms. Rumi cooing in her sleep as she cuddled further into her bundle in search of warmth.

"Celine." Your voice called her name so softly that it felt unfitting, given your history with the idols, especially her.

"I'll keep her safe." Your smile of reassurance always soothed her into serenity, and your promises were forever kept as you remained true to your words.

Reluctantly, she carefully swapped the sleeping infant and took the clothes. Her hands were trembling as she let go and watched you with suspense, studying how you're handling the very treasure Mi-young left of herself in this world.

“I got it.”

Celine’s eyes flicker up to yours, your gaze already staring down at her with understanding compassion. It made the former idol bite her bottom lip to stop it from quivering and barely nod her head before disappearing into the bathroom to change.

You couldn’t help but sigh, the weight of everything finally hitting you at once when you turned to the infant in your arms.

“…oh dear, you’re going to be trouble, I can tell…” The whispered coo made Rumi stir, face contorting with a scowl before she blinked awake and stared at you with the brightest and curious eyes you’ve ever seen.

“…hi, baby.” You smile with fondness that makes the girl’s confused expression turn to glee at the greeting, her intuition labeling you as another parental figure—a warmer and angelic guardian.

“Eeaahh…” Rumi squealed and babbled, her hand escaping its soft confines in the blanket and suddenly tugging on your hair.

“Ow—! okay, sweetie, hello to you as well!” You winced, a pained smile on your face while you tried prying her hand off your tresses as gently as you could manage.

You entertained the child until her rightful guardian returned wearing the set of clothes you offered.

Celine was already changed and dried off minutes ago, lingering by the bathroom doorway as she watched you so easily accept Rumi like she was your own, despite not knowing anything about her.

She wants to blame it on your naivety, but she knows and curses how you’re always so… gold-hearted. To forgive fairly when others took the effort to fix their mistakes, with you guiding them when they asked how to do better— for you to let her in even after everything that happened.

“Oooh, pretty girl!”

Celine focuses back to the scene in front of her, almost responding before she swallowed the words back down, with you chuckling as Rumi squirms in your arms while squealing in delight as you interact with her.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Hey, pretty girl! The others are waiting in the studio for you.” You popped your head into the record room where Celine was hunched over the news article.

“Let my crew and I handle the media, okay?” You’re crouched next to where she’s sat, meeting her worried eyes with your soft gaze.

“No one’s ruining the Sunlight Sisters' hard-earned reputation under my watch!” The playful declaration made her smile, tension leaving her shoulders as she chuckled while watching you ramble, making exaggerated expressions and gestures to show your determination.

You always did went out of your way to protect and appease the company her group worked under. But as Celine continued to observe from the doorway… she couldn’t help but wonder:

“Were your eyes always this warm towards everyone?”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The two of you were seated on the couch, Rumi back in Celine’s arms, while you placed a cup of tea on the table.

“So, she… Mi-Young is…” The words were barely completed in a strained voice, holding your head in your palms while the weight of the news sat heavy on your heart.

“Yes…” Her whisper pierced the increasing tension in your apartment, holding a stuffed bear that Rumi played with while cradled in her tired arms.

Silence followed for a moment, your mind scattering as if searching for every existence of Mi-Young in your memories, as if desperate to bring her back to life. This was grief, and you were already mourning in your own way, openly and in secret at the same time.

You wanted to be angry, to blame someone for her passing, to scream at the unfairness of how she didn’t deserve that, but you just took a deep breath in. It hurts, yes, but as you turned your head to the side and watched your old friend… You knew she came for you for a reason; Celine was already crumbling like sand, and you were her salvation from drowning further in despair.

You could see her light barely as a flicker, but it was trying so hard for the new responsibility she cradles in her arms.

“Wh—“ you clear your throat, hoping she wouldn’t catch the sudden voice crack, “What’s her name?”

A side glance from her was enough for you to know she heard it. She read you like an open book, like how you always saw through her like glass.

“Her name is Rumi.”

‘Rumi…’ You repeated in your mind, ‘…Ryu Mi-Young… Ryu… Mi… Rumi…’

The soft laugh from your lips broke the silence, the air lifting from the gentle breaths you tried to hold back.

It caught Celine off guard; her shoulders suddenly squared as her heart ached under the assumption of your laugh coming from mockery.

“What?” Celine bristled, already arranging her fighting words against you.

“Hahaha… it’s—“ You lift your head, eyes closed, and a bright grin on your face while tears stream down your cheeks through every small hiccups, “—It’s perfect…”

'Leave it to her to be creative when it comes to names.'

"She's… perfect…" Your whispered rephrasing as you wiped your face with your sleeve made her frown soften.

You cried, you always cried. Even before their debut, before they reached the top of the music industry, hell, you cried when they surprised Celine with a party on her birthday, the party YOU planned.

It was one of the things the people who worked for them never got the answer to. You're as mysterious as you are kind. One of the many things she's frustrated with when it came to you: how you're so carefree, forgiving, and kind, like the world never did you wrong.

Oh, how the universe knows the former trio tried so hard to have you open up, to share your burdens and have you lean on them for support and comfort whenever problems were hurled your way.

But you refused to fall. Every rupture in your facade was wiped clean before anyone could catch a glimpse of you buckling on your knees. You never depended on anyone, you stubbornly rejected any handouts, and achieved the life you're living today with your own hands.

As the night dragged on, Celine felt more out of place in your place, even as you tend to her and Rumi's needs. She felt like an intruder, like her conscience knew she shouldn't feel so at ease, baffled by the audacity to even relax around your presence.

"It's getting late…" She sighs, cleaning Rumi's lips after bottle feeding her some last-minute formula you got from a nearby store. "We should go soon. I'm sorry again for intruding…"

The rain seemed to fall harsher against your window in displeasure, the wind picking up and even breaking a branch from the tree growing beside your building.

"You should stay over." You mumbled, voice strained from your early crying. "It's dangerous out there right now."

A mix of scoff and sigh left Celine's lips, "I can handle it."

"I know," Your gaze flickers back to the tired woman, "I'm talking about her."

Motioning to the infant in her arms, Rumi gives you a gummy smile once she realizes she has your attention again.

"Besides," the corners of your mouth quirked to a weary smile, reaching over to play with the infant who grasped your hand with glee, "…I missed having you around."

Your confession made Celine want to curl up from the sudden drop of guilt; every memory flooded her mind like a whirlpool that had her slowly turning in your direction.

She wanted to apologize—to beg for your forgiveness in hopes of atoning for every mistake she had ever made, but words always get lodged in her throat, like her heart and mind played tug of war over whether to communicate or keep it inside.

"Come on, you two can have the bed." Standing up and striding into your bedroom, the former idol follows with a yawning Rumi in her arms.

"Rest up. We can talk another time," You fluff up the bed, tossing in the spare blankets. "We're all tired right now, especially you."

She couldn't agree more.

After all that talk, confiding in you and finally being able to breathe for the first time again, she finally felt the exhaustion hitting her gradually. Both emotionally and physically, she was wrung of every last drop, comparing it to being a hunter; this was more taxing than slaying demons.

But you don't know that.

You thankfully have your bed against the wall, adding a blanket against it, acting as a safe cushion for the infant.

"Thank you."

The words were uttered almost in shame.

You shake your head and take one pillow from your bed, clutching it against your chest. "It'll be okay."

Celine doubts it, mind fogging from the unpredictable events the future holds.

"For once in your life, take a break." You brush a stray hair back behind her ear, knuckle grazing her cold cheek. "Let others take the reins, let me guide you this time."

Reluctantly, as always, she finally gives in without a fight, carefully crawling into your bed and setting a sleeping Rumi between her and the barrier of soft blankets against the wall.

"I'll be down the hall in the living room. I'm sure you wouldn't get lost in my small apartment compared to your estate." You chuckle as you head back out to rest on the couch.

"Don't hesitate to wake me up if you need something, no matter how idiotic you might think it is... Goodnight, Celine."

Celine could only watch you leave, her mind reminding her of the cruel memory that your back was the last thing she remembered on that day before you cut yourself off from the public, the industry, their lives— her life.

Call her absurd or greedy, but she forever clung to the hope that she could make you stay this time. She only has to do better and work harder for you to accept her back in your life.

Being the sinner she is, she will always seek solace in a saint that is you.

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