#SO I THOUGHT SHE COULD DO THAT WITH THE CAT TOO

[xylatox]

the one where the stranger you fake date turns out to be your childhood friend, a title that absolutely reminds me of 2000s emo music titles from groups like; our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldnt get sued. Unto my thoughts!

About myself. I am a 30yo, 5’10 male with six figure job trying to relate to my colleagues by appearing as though I have a Significant Other. Your required duties will only be your punctual company to public events. Serious inquires only. Thank you.— this is so unironically serious its actually so funny and suits Seungcheol's whole office manager vibe.

I love thst Cheol's black cat-like personality at the office created something akin to mob boss rumours around the office, like it's so funny how someone's lack to converse with others comes off so insane to this colleagues/coworkers.

Yet, he was never taught that being lonely was something that came along with it. That climbing ranks, that gaining power and authority could make him feel so empty inside. Just like climbing the top of Mount Everest alone, it was just as cold and lonesome if no one was there to see it. — I think the comparison between climbing ranks and mount everest combined with the feeling of loneliness being like the weather of the mount itself so interesting oh my god and well done.

It's so crazy to me how dead serious Cheol is to get an interview out of this fake date too, like thats dedication. Seungcheol was beginning to think he wasted his time, his energy, and his effort. Is that what it felt like? To put heart into something and be burned after. He hadn’t felt anything like this since— I know it was absolutely cut off for plot purposes but I'm so invested ugh

Their first interaction is so hilarious, I love how sassy reader is, like it's so cute and endearing. It's so cute when he realizes it's his childhood friend omg, I could throw up. I love how well it blends into their first interaction as kids and how even then Cheol has this whole black cat energy going for him. It's also amazing how reader loses her shit at how hot he got after he left

He's so serious, he kind of reminds me if Jumin Han from Mystic Messanger (minus the whole cat obsession). I love that despite being childhood friends to some degree Cheol is still very much closed off and his personality remains the same even when he's in the work dinner settings, like good on him honestly. I'm so happy that wall falls when he gets drunk after they do the Love Shot, it's so cute.

It's sad to see reader care about how she's portrayed by her friends but the moment Cheol voices how they met and everything is super sweet. BEOMGYU CAMEO!!! hehe exciting. I do love the moment that they share after they get away as well.

Part 1! This was so good and I'm so excited to read part 2!!

the one where the stranger you fake date turns out to be your childhood friend (m) [1]

A Valentine collaboration hosted by @camandemstudios and their masterlist

Pairing: office manager!seungcheol x childhood friend!fem!reader Genre: romcom, smut, fluff, slight angst Word count: current 12.5k (total w.c. 34.4k) rating: R Summary: In a world where relationships mattered just as much as money or status did, Seungcheol found himself wrapped up with a person from twenty years ago. He didn't know how you remembered him, and frankly he didn't know how he remembered you, but the way you've reentered his life, like a gust of wind, he didn't think he'll ever forget you now. tags: MDNI, Childhood rivals to Best friends to Ex-best Friends to Strangers to Fake Dating to Lovers (try to keep up), childhood trauma, mentions of neglectful parents, random idol features, reader and seungcheol in their 30s, grump x sunshine, fake dating au, office au, taekwondo buddies, virgin!seungcheol, experienced!reader, food & alcohol scenes, yearning, smut tags to be provided in part 2

author note: Thank you to @tusswrites @gyuswhore @lovetaroandtaemin the title is so fucking long because this is the longest fucking thing i've written in my entire life. A little inspired by those ridiculously long ass anime titles that don’t need to be that length like they don’t need to be this fucking long, but they just are and it’s dumb, but I cackle every time I look at it. I'm dedicating this to @haologram who does this on the regular somehow and has been supporting me throughout the whole process bc this drove me nuts.

“Looking for fake girlfriend for hire aged 25-35, preferably with job, neat, and single. Negotiable compensation. About myself. I am a 30yo, 5’10 male with six figure job trying to relate to my colleagues by appearing as though I have a Significant Other. Your required duties will only be your punctual company to public events. Serious inquires only. Thank you.”

You stared long and hard at the Craigslist listing before quickly shooting a message, not giving yourself a moment to hesitate and regret your choices and quickly clicked off the window to avert your attention elsewhere. 

Craigslist was not a website you browsed every day, but today was not like every day. Today commemorated your last and final friend who celebrated her relationship hitting their two year milestone, reminding you that you’re the final single on the lonely island that was your life.

For as long as you could remember, everyone—including you—had been in some kind of relationship. And for some convoluted reason, having a girlfriend/wife/mother status mattered in the circles you ran, especially now when your dating history has been stretched and chewed like bubble gum. At this point, you weren’t closed off to anything, not even fake relationships.

You were sick and tired of putting in the effort of meeting these guys with nothing to come out of it; it was dud after dud, shitty date after shitty date. At the end of the day, you knew you were just meeting other people to satisfy the expectations of others, succumbing to the pressure of being coupled up with anyone to have your happy ending.

This was your chance to say fuck it. If they were all so insistent on seeing you date someone, you were going to give them just that. It didn’t matter who it was.

The Craigslist guy seemed to be in the same boat. Albeit, his situation sounded more unique compared to yours, he was also just trying to survive in this inherently judgemental world. You could imagine a compromise that would benefit you both correspondingly. It was just a matter of convincing your new potential faux beau that you were in desperate need of his assistance.

Then again, how bad was his situation that he needed a fake girlfriend to make himself remotely likable?

You didn’t know it yet, but in Choi Seungcheol’s case, it was dire. 

The effect he had by walking through the sixty-story VENTE Co. building already brought locals to shivers, but the air of the department he led was frigid whenever he passed through. Each heavy footstep of his grew louder as he made his way to his private office, and always with that empty soulless stare that never ceases to miss a day at work. No subordinate would dare even think of locking eyes, nor breathe the oxygen lingering on him, until the door closed behind him with no air to escape.

Before Seungcheol came to power as office manager, the rumors circulating about how he got into his position of power before transferring over to his current branch were the kind you’d hear about in fiction. Word got around about the possible blood he spilled, the secrets he told, or even the secret withheld for exploitation to get where he is now. This wasn’t any lowly position, after all, he was ten to twenty years younger than his colleagues holding the same position, earlier on track than anyone else in the company for someone who wasn’t an heir or a product of nepotism. Everyone assumed the gossip must’ve had some truth to them. 

Even Chan, the poor new intern fresh out of college, had fallen victim to the water cooler talk and seamlessly fell into the office dynamics. He cowered in his cubicle after seeing Manager Choi pass through the hall, clutching the toner cartridge he was asked to change out that now stained his fingers. And a breath of relief escaped him to hear the sound of a closing door.

Seungcheol didn’t do anything aggressive or violent with the way he ran the office, but he was a man of a few words. He neither confirmed nor denied these rumors, he just never addressed them, thinking maybe that’s how it should stay. Instead, he let the stone-cold glare that made the hairs on people’s necks stand upright speak for him. He didn’t go to company events, or plan them for that matter, he would just work his hours (often more hours than less), send out his orders, and leave work without saying so much as a goodbye. 

And why would he have to? He was the boss. He didn’t need to do more than what was necessary.

Yet, there was something he craved that couldn’t be achieved in the current workplace climate. Something he didn’t realize until it was already too late to turn things around unless the world was flipped on its head. 

From a young age, he was taught being feared was a good thing. It’s why his parents would put him in hard-hitting hobbies like taekwondo, hapkido, and boxing. He was groomed to be a leader who was strong, demanded his power, and strived to be the apex.

Yet, he was never taught that being lonely was something that came along with it. That climbing ranks, that gaining power and authority could make him feel so empty inside. Just like climbing the top of Mount Everest alone, it was just as cold and lonesome if no one was there to see it.

One weekend, curiosity got the best of him, and he wondered on the search engines if this feeling was normal, if others had this problem, or if it was a side effect of his ambition. Research and being a net explorer was a hobby that he fell victim to on occasion, this being an extreme case where he could not seem to grasp. One trending word led to another and then the web sucked him into a spiral of Google snippets from Reddit stories to self-help guides. 

What had felt like minutes had actually been hours since he started his search and he was beginning to get impatient until articles about How to be Likeable popped on his screen. Like many of the others, it sounded like nonsense or gimmicky, but one title stood out to him amongst others.

He scoffed as he moved his mouse to scroll through the pages, thinking it couldn’t have been that easy or perfect, but it just was. Unlike everyone else’s advice that told him to ‘smile more’ or ‘show positive body language’ (whatever the hell that meant), if he had a significant other defending him and complimenting him all the time, he wouldn’t have to do the work. They would do all the talking for him. He just had to compensate them enough to make it happen. It was idiot proof.

And that’s how he found himself on Craigslist, the site that seemed to have it all with no exceptions. His post was decent, vague enough to not make his status or identity known, yet enticing enough to possibly arouse a candidate. He just had to be sure they were someone he could work with.

After scouring through about twenty to thirty scammy and near-illegal offers, one piqued his interest, the single sensible response amongst a hoard of crazies. Maybe he found his girl. His fake girl that is.

“Hello, Are you still looking for a girlfriend? I seem to suit all your criteria.”

Things were looking up for Seungcheol, all that was next was the meeting. Being the workaholic he was, Seungcheol only managed to squeeze you in for a 45-minute interview during lunch, but it had to be by the office, giving you both the smallest time window imaginable. His lunch was the only time he would be able to do transactions such as this, and any weekend of his was solely for his leisure. Talking business–such as a fake dating proposition–on his well deserved weekend was not something he wanted to pencil in his calendar.

The coffee shop was perfect, only a ten-minute walk from the VENTE Co. building if Seungcheol speed-walked, and if he was early enough, he could get a freshly made deli sliced sandwich they were known for to have on his way back. However, he didn’t want to prolong this interaction more than he needed to. He knew that others from the office would occasionally visit or pass by this same cafe, but it was the most viable option. He just needed everything to go according to plan and at his pace. So far, it seemed as if it was; all that was left was your punctual arrival–but that moment had passed ten minutes ago.

He looked at his watch impatiently, tapping his foot in the incessant way he would, sighing as everyone that came through the passing door didn't even spare him a glance, maybe even some actively avoiding his eyes. He started to wonder if his description of himself was specific enough: male in his 30s with dark hair in a tailored gray suit. It wasn’t rocket science. Yet, not one who arrived looked like his potential match.

Seungcheol was beginning to think he wasted his time, his energy, and his effort. Is that what it felt like? To put heart into something and be burned after. He hadn’t felt anything like this since—

He groaned, scanning the perimeter self consciously and never feeling more humiliated in his life. As if he was actually stood up from a date. Running his tongue against his molars, Seungcheol scoffed, plucking himself off his seat as he bowed his head to avoid eyes. He was filled with silent rage, seething with resentment for someone who did not even bother to show up and reject him in person. This was one of the reasons why he didn’t date. 

As if on cue, the automatic glass doors opened, and a hoard of familiar voices were boisterously laughing as they entered the cafe, joking and jabbing at each other, as if ready to cue the sitcom music any time now. However, as Seungcheol barely lifted his gaze, they stopped in their tracks, flight or fight responses taking over and the instinct to survive this encounter held precedence above anything else. They straighten their postures like soldiers in a line up, changing their light atmosphere in the flip of a switch. 

“Mr. Choi! Good to see you,” Seokmin greeted, his smile quivering. 

“D-do you like their coffee too! How good to know,” Soonyoung followed, eyes shifting. 

“Did you just have lunch, sir?” Chan managed to say while staring at his own feet, hiding behind Hansol, who respectfully nodded and kept eye contact to a minimum.

The office manager nodded, scheming an escape route to retain some ounce of the dignity he had left, if any. The exit was a mere couple of feet away. He could just walk out, and his subordinates wouldn’t have a say against it. The plan was ready to be set in motion until he felt something–rather someone, coiling their arm around his bicep. Their warmth jolted him erect, making him stand pin-straight, much like his employees when they came across him. 

His head snapped at the unheralded intruder, locking eyes with a pair unexpectedly warm and wide, staring back at him with an unspoken fondness, and glint of humor. He couldn’t help but feel as if he’d seen them before, along with that smile that broke out so wide the cheekbones reached their eyes, but somehow still effortless.

“Forgot something?” You asked, beaming at him with anticipation, clinging to him for companionship.

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes at you, his intrigue now replaced with puzzlement and his head was filled with noise, none of which making any sense, starting with the person in front of him. “You–”

The crowd of Seungcheol’s colleagues all started harmoniously greeting you, their eyes lighting up and genuine smiles forming for the first time since encountering their superior outside the office. You were quick to entertain them, never leaving Seungcheol’s side as his arm essentially became a leash, lugging the thirty-year-old man around like a purse dog, and being at the receiving end, he was too stunned to object.

“Hi, you must work with this guy right here,” you grinned, nudging into Seungcheol with the crown of your head.

“How do you know Mr. Choi, Miss…” Jihoon began to ask, curiosity radiating off of him as much as it did everyone else.

“Well,” you took Seungcheol’s hand out of his pocket, interlocking your fingers together, earning a bigger reaction than a simple thousand-yard stare from the office manager. “I’m Seungcheol’s girlfriend.”

Everyone involved in the conversation stared at you as if you had grown a second head and Seungcheol looked at you as if you had grown a third.

“You and Mr.Choi?”

“This is news to us!”

“You both look so good together!”

You quietly laughed as they all prodded you with questions, while your supposed boyfriend did what only what his motor skills would allow him; that was to observe, watching how your expression turned just naturally light and jovial as you blatantly lie in front of the strangers before you. It’s when he realized for once in his life he feared someone, and it was this smiley little creature that lied through their teeth as easily as they breathed.

“Well, I’ve got to walk him back to the office,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “otherwise he will not go back, and he’ll lose track of time. It was nice meeting everyone. Maybe I can do it officially in better circumstances!”

“Of course! We’ll see you in the office, Mr. Choi!”

“Yeah, see you! Pleasure meeting you Miss!”

You made your way out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk and gunned for it as soon as you were out of their sight, all while he was still holding your hand, having not spoken a single word the entire altercation and not knowing a single word to speak thereafter. You sighed when you found an alleyway away from prying eyes, hands on your knees as you panted, reminding yourself you really needed to take advantage of that at home gym equipment you bought for yourself. “Finally. Wow, they’re really nosy, aren’t they?”

“Who the hell are you?” he finally asked.

You lifted your eyes to meet his eyes, seeing the pits of black that glared down at you. If you were phased by it, you didn’t let it show, only dusting yourself off as you stuck out your hand. The unwavering grin on your face. “Didn’t you hear? I’m your girlfriend.”

“You’re late,” he pointed out plainly.

“Yeah, you try to catch three buses and a subway to get here.”

“You could've gotten a cab.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “And waste my money? No, thank you.”

“You’re getting compensated anyway. Why would that matter?”

You gave him a teeth baring grin, ulterior motives written all over your face. “Well, actually, I had a deal in mind.”

Seungcheol scoffed, scanning his eyes over you as judgment fogged his vision. He trusted you as far as he could throw you–which frankly, could be really far, but there was something frightening about you. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I’m not a gigolo and never plan on being one. You had one job and it was to be punctual and you’d get paid. How is that so hard?”

“But I did a good job, didn’t I? Pretending to be your girlfriend?”

He didn’t want to admit it, but you made a good point, and knowing you’ve already made an impression back at the cafe, the younger guys in the office had probably spread the news throughout the floor by now, if not then throughout the whole building. Just like those vicious rumors had spread. Except maybe for once the word ‘conniving’ or ‘intimidating’ wasn’t being used in the context.

He sighed, growing weary, checking his watch for the time, since he was in desperate need for this encounter to be wrapped up as soon as possible. “What is it you want?”

You grinned. “Well, to be honest. I need a fake boyfriend–”

“No.”

“But–”

“That’s not how things are going to work. I pay you to work for me. You do a job. And that’s that. There’s no deals to be made here.”

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Wow, sorry, but this is actually crazy to me.”

“How the real world works? I do apologize that no one’s ever taught you that.”

You shook your head, smiling. “No, it’s just…Choi Seungcheol. You’ve really grown up, haven’t you?”

“Excuse me?” He asked, hearing his full name as if he was being told a slur. “However, you found my name, my status, you have a lot of nerve–”

“Eight years old. You had just won champions for competitors under ten and you felt like you were on top of the world. You wanted to scream but not because you had won, but because no one was there to watch you win, not anyone you cared about anyway. Except for one person, the person competing against you. So you screamed together at a nearby cliff in the mountains. You were still sad, bawling your eyes out, but at least you weren't alone.”

He couldn’t breathe. In his chest, something grabbed at his lungs, and it squeezed, cutting off his airways. His gut tightened and jaw clenched. He had never planned on being reminded of that time of his life again. “How…”

“Hi, Cheol. It’s good to see you too, bud.”

Seungcheol had a particular youth, and as a kid, he was forced to do more than enough to prove himself. Achievements were not only required but expected of him. If he won something, it was the standard. He had to learn quickly that everything was meant to be earned, not given, both fear and attention.

You were weird. You had a lot going on, and he didn’t like that. Yet, you took the same classes he did, performed as high as he did, were recommended to the same competitions, and commended for simply existing. It was blasphemy. His young little heart couldn’t fathom such anarchy.

He couldn’t understand it before, but he was jealous. Jealous of you, your family, your dynamics, and everything you represented. You were ignorantly happy, and he hated that you still were just as good of a student as him, even if it was just at taekwondo.

Things started to make sense when he decided to place focus on himself, the gold, the medals, and everything he’s worked hard to achieve. Why did it matter that you were barely great at taekwondo, he excelled. Not only that, he was getting straight As, a model student, and someone respected and feared amongst his peers.

Well, those kinds of kids don't cry when their parents don’t come to their taekwondo championships, do they? No matter how many times he’s reminded them of the day to ensure they make it. He felt so pathetic. So utterly alone. He was a fucking winner, yet he was whining and crying about mommy and daddy like a loser.

“Hi, are you okay?” the snot-covered young Seungcheol turned his head, seeing you, a silver medal winner asking if he was okay. Pathetic. 

He was going to brush you off. Quite literally shove you away for wasting his time and invading his personal space, but you sounded so concerned, voice light and warm like sun rays, and before he knew it, your arms came around him, pulling him into a tight hug. His tears soaked someone else's uniform that day and that frustrated him like hell. 

It had to be you of all people to see him cry. His rival. The bane of his existence. Well, the bane of his existence had nice hugs and smelled like strawberry smackers and sweat. He didn’t know how he knew what those were but remembering it all now, it’s exactly what they were.

It was then you convinced him to scream from that cliff with you. You both screamed so loud that it made the birds nearby fly away out of fear, and it made you both belly laugh so hard you fell on your backs. The tears had dried against his flushed cheeks by now, but he still felt them coming, every passing second just reminded him that his parents didn't find him all that important to celebrate. And when you noticed, you made him scream some more. Screamed until your throats hurt.

And you were right, he wasn’t alone anymore.

He had something to look forward to at every taekwondo class now other than the sense of accomplishment. He had a friend to spend time with. And for the next few years, you’d continue to be that person for him. His person. The only person who would know how to break him out of the mental prison he was forced into since birth. 

The times waiting around to be picked up, he’d spend time with you, getting ice cream or eating the convenience store snack that he’s been told would rot his brain and eat away at his skin. Other days when they felt like it, they’d ditch class entirely, pretending they were sick just to go watch a movie or find somewhere far away to be themselves, alone together.

Then you both turned eleven. Eleven was when things changed almost drastically. New insecurities formed at that delicate age. Taekwondo classes were harder, kids were getting bigger and stronger, meanwhile you were getting taller. Taller than Seungcheol even, and that shook him.

Maybe that’s when your dynamic started to change. Then came a ripple of bad events, tumbling forward like a domino effect that led to the demise of your friendship. A series of events that Seungcheol forced himself to repress as it gnawed at him like a bad infection.

But not like the way your presence did at this very moment.

“Out of all of the people that answered…”

“Kind of like fate, huh?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “Or Divine punishment.”

You furrowed your brows. “Hey.”

"Okay, so, what? You think because we were peers in a Taekwondo class together it meant something?”

“Well, not really, but, you don’t think it’s nice to see a friendly face?”

“Someone I haven’t seen in twenty years is something I would hardly call friendly.”

Your smile fell a little for the first time, only to pick right back up as if it never happened. “Ouch, hurtful. But, I'm still very down to help you play your girlfriend; if you’ll help me, that is.”

Seungcheol looked over at you cautiously, wondering why you, someone who once threw caution to the wind, would take matters into your hands and fake-date for any reason. “Why do you need the help?”

You shrugged. “Bragging rights.”

His eyes could not roll further back into his head. “Can’t do that with a real boyfriend?”

“And you can’t get a real girlfriend to get your employees to like you?”

He stared back at you unamused, but with nothing to come back with.

You shrugged, knowing you had him backed into a corner. “Like it or not, we are alike, you and I. And, we kind of know each other, so it works out.”

“...How much do you actually need this?”

“Just as much as you do.”

He found himself contemplating, crazy enough to think that he could make a situation like this work. “Fine, we’ll draw up a contract at our next meeting during my next lunch hour.”

He started taking his leave quickly in the direction of his office building, not looking back. Still, you called out to him, with more to ask. “Our next date. Why not this weekend?”

“I’m not wasting my weekend for this.” he shouted back, his back shrinking away out of view.

“You’re not going to waste your weekend on your girlfriend?” you shouted louder, only for it to be no use; now you were just a woman screaming by yourself in an alleyway.

You didn’t have too many expectations for this appointment, you were just blessed that you were a freelancer and could make time for it at all. Otherwise, you would’ve never made that lunch. You managed to sneak past his line of vision, eyes darting at him immediately and processing his features before slowly backing away into a corner and taking up a booth. You wanted to observe him before you eventually met him face-to-face, ensuring he wasn’t some weirdo until you realized the face you were looking at was the spitting image of someone you once knew 20 years ago.

You had to be sure, pulling up your phone immediately to stalk any possible social media pages. You found a perfect match and the exact name. Hand over your mouth, you were beyond shocked, You hadn’t thought about this boy in ages and here he was before you, a grown man. A hot, brooding man. 

What the actual fuck.

He started getting up, frustration and impatience written all over his face as he let out a big huff, and you couldn’t help but break out in a smile seeing him sulk until the panic sunk in that he was trying to leave. As he began to head to the door, the exits were blocked, the people passing through all smiles until they laid their eyes on him, and immediately you see their bodies tense up in his presence.

You were beginning to understand the severity and unease that settled in the room when he was present. It was as if their lighthearted comedy turned into a thriller in a matter of seconds. At that moment, you saw your window, so quickly you jumped through it.

You chuckled as you remembered his expression when he first caught sight of you, the pure confusion and bewilderment on his face when you introduced yourself to his coworkers. You were surprised yourself when he did absolutely nothing, but perhaps he showed it as a sign of faith, or maybe he was just that out of it.

Nonetheless, things seemed to work in your favor, and the fake boyfriend you’ve come across was none other than the Choi Seungcheol. A mixed bag of emotions, but something you could work with, way better than any internet creep. It just looked like there was a lot of catching up that needed to be done.

And soon enough, you were about to catch up to the fact that Seungcheol meant business and was anal about his terms and conditions. 

“You have to be punctual, that was your only requirement in the ad alone. There cannot be a repeat of yesterday.”

You nodded, watching as he entered it in the shared document you both had displayed on both your laptops. “Okay, fine, but are you sure about discussing this here? What if you have a run-in with your coworkers again?”

“We’re in the corner, so we’re less likely to be spotted, and if we are it’ll look like another lunch…date.”

You raised an eyebrow, stopping at mid-sip of your Americano. “What was that?”

“What?”

“Why did you say it like that?”

He sighed, eyes visibly dull. “Like what?”

You moved your head animatedly, trying to prove a point. “Like you were choking on it. Like you were revolted by the idea of a date. A date with me?”

“Nothing personal. Don’t get defensive. This stuff is just arbitrary to me.”

“What’s arbitrary about it? People go on dates with people they like and sometimes fall in love. It happens every day.”

“Not me,” he retorted, typing in an important detail.

“So you don’t go on dates?”

“I work. Like everyone should be doing.”

“I work.”

He glanced up from the screen. “What do you do?”

“I freelance.”

“Hmm.” His eyes averted back to the screen. “Vague.”

“I make a good wage,” you emphasized. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

However, he didn’t seem to look convinced. “Are you sure you don't want to be financially compensated?”

“Shut up. I’m doing fine. Let’s get back to the contract please.”

“Finally.”

Things were officially being drawn up electronically before being sent over for you to sign, giving you a sense of relief and a weight off your shoulders. You craned your neck, feeling the strain of peering down at a laptop have its effect on you. “Okay looks like it's all good. Looks like we can finally be in business. What will be our first move, considering you are the first to have proposed the idea?”

“Yes, well, that will be the office party the company is hosting. Usually, everyone is required to attend, and I've skipped many events like it–”

“And you want me to come with you to make you look good for your team?”

“No, I want to make you an excuse so I don’t have to go.”

You furrowed your brows. “That’s counterproductive. Literally the opposite of what I’m here for.”

“But neither of us would have to go.”

Your fingers curled up into your palms, forming halfhearted fists before you unfurled them, trying to cherry-pick the right words to get through this tinman’s head. “You have to realize that simply having a girlfriend is not enough for people to like you. It’s about talking you up, showing off your redeeming qualities. Getting people to understand Seungcheol the person, not Seungcheol the boss.”

“Are you proposing I have no redeeming qualities?”

“You were trying to use me as an excuse to avoid going to a company party. What were you going to do with that time on your own?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“This is exactly why you need my help, Cheol,” you reminded, feeling like you’re lecturing a cat about not scratching up the couch.

He gave a light grimace, “You don’t need to call me that childish abbreviation. I have a whole name.”

You leaned over from your seat, staring over at him wide eyes, fluttering your lashes and feigning a lovestruck grin. “I need to give you a nickname if we’re dating. What about Babe? Baby? Honey? Lover?”

“Seungcheol is just fine,” he answered, unaffected, not bothering to look past his laptop.

Your smile dropped in an exaggerated scowl as you pulled yourself back down, crossing your arms. “How have your other girlfriends dealt with you?”

Seungcheol suddenly had nothing else to say, his eyes started darting everywhere but you, leaning back against the booth and preoccupying his mouth with his scalding hot vanilla latte.

Your eyes narrowed at him suspiciously as the silence persisted and the click-clacking of his keyboard, “Seungcheol, you have dated before, right?”

His eyes flitted back to you like a flickering flame before it went out, directing themselves back to his laptop, typing away at something at a more urgent pace, or looking as if he did. 

“Oh my god. You haven’t.”

“Silence,” he finally said.

“You…You haven’t been on a date with anyone? With a woman? Or even a man?”

He rolled his eyes, groaning under his breath. “Don’t make a scene.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you reassured, “of course, I'm just very surprised…and confused. For 30 years of your life?”

“It was never something I prioritized.”

“Middle school. High school. College,” you began listing off.

“I went to an all boys school, and college does not leave much time for dating when you’re getting your Bachelor’s and Master’s.”

You waved your hands bizarrely. “So what? You worked your entire life?”

“Yes.”

“…Hmm.”

“What?”

Curiosity killed the cat, so the cat never came to know Seungcheol and apparently he never came to know the cat. “So if you’ve never been on a date, your intimate life…?”

He raised his brow, and sighed, realizing he was doing that a lot today. He closed his laptop, placing his hands neatly in his lap. “That goes without saying, but yes. I haven’t been intimate with anyone.”

“Right,” you responded, processing the information in real time.

“Are we done here? Is this game of 101 questions over with?”

“Just one more.”

“What?”

“What are you so big for then?” You asked earnestly. 

His brows furrowed, before a subtle cocky smile crept against his face. “A healthy body in its top form is crucial for the average working man. It keeps my physical and mental health from deteriorating, and it’s the only way I can keep up with work, from carrying heavy work loads to travel. Aesthetics weren’t the goal, but thank you for noticing.”

“I didn’t compliment you for being big now, did I?”

Time running out on the clock, your meeting came to a close. You walked out together, keeping up appearances, and despite your protests, he started to hail you a taxi. You frowned as it arrived, seeing him open the door all gentleman like, but the stoic expression tattooed always on his face said otherwise.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not walking you to a bus stop, so take the cab. I’ll pay if you’re in dire need of financial assistance.” You had choice words to say on the tip of your tongue before he ushered you in the back seat, ducking his head in and tapping his card on the machine to pay. “Wherever she wants to go.”

Looking up behind the back of his head, you caught the sight of a few familiar faces, the same ones that you ran into yesterday with and quickly you suddenly found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso. He stiffed under your touch, his arms stuck up hovering above you inside the car. “What are you doing?” he questioned, tone cold. 

“Don’t look,” you whispered, “but I see some of your coworkers. Just roll with it until they’re gone.”

Your chin settled into the crook of his neck, fastening yourself and determined to hold on until they were out of sight. Meanwhile, he stared down the slope of your spine, watching your hips shift to comfortably align with his, fitting yourself around his frame, and he helplessly took in your perfume wafting in his nose, noting its clean and pleasant scent. Before he realized, his arms rose, hovering around over your back and moving to close in to claim your warmth.

”Okay, it looks like they left.”

Instead, you released him with a light shove out of the car and patted him on the back before waving him off. He watched as it drove off, your hand waving back at him frantically before the car turned left at an intersection and disappeared on the road. From then, Seungcheol quietly returned to the office to organize his thoughts. Down the street, past the front desk, up the elevator, down the hallway, and entering his office. In all that time, he still could not make sense of what just happened.

But then again, he was learning that he didn’t make sense of a lot of things. Like company dinners, why did they matter?

In fact, Seungcheol had his gripes about company dinners. They were loud, rambunctious, and were centered around drinking until one needed their stomach to get pumped. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed the occasional glass of whiskey and a fine wine, but that’s not what this was. 

Tonight, he was surrounded by blue and green bottles, then silver and green cans, all mixed to create a revolting concoction that the team seemed to thrive on to make the night a tolerable one, but what would have made it tolerable for a certain office manager was his fake girlfriend. His eyes shifted from one side of the restaurant to the other, seeing each member of his department slowly loosening their reins as alcohol poured into their system, pinking their cheeks and slurring their words. He did not look forward to the kind of conversations spoken out of turn under the influence.

The manager had been offered a drink five minutes after his arrival, surprised at the minimal spillage with how much Chan’s hands were shaking as he held it with both hands. Nevertheless, he accepted with a wordless nod as the cup was set in front of him, another working man comfortably escaping the clutches of Manager Choi.

Seungcheol was beginning to get annoyed at your tardiness. First it was the initial meeting—the one he still hadn’t gotten over—but now this was the first official public outing. You never cease to amaze him with careless conduct, as if life didn’t have consequences. It was almost as if you never grew up. This was starting to feel like a mistake.

“There you are!” Warmth snaked around his neck and tucked around his chin as someone’s cheek flattened against his.

He didn’t have to look to know it was you; only you were brave enough to commit this far, but he had just as much of a reason to be convincing as you did. He slightly turned his head, a vision of you in his peripheral before you faced him with a grin. “I’m sorry I’m late, don’t be mad,” you lightly pleaded, jutting your lips in a pout.

“Where have you been?” he bluntly asked, hoping it sounded concerned. It did not.

Your pout sunk deeper and you took the empty seat beside him, tugging on his arm. “I told you not to get mad!”

“She’s real?”

“You owe me 50 bucks! Cough up!”

The voices were growing louder, more banter rising at your sudden appearance, and Seungcheol was starting to wonder why he ever wanted this attention in the first place.

“Is this for me?” you asked pointing at the horrid cocktail Chan placed in front of your fake boyfriend before he then covered the top with the back of his hand.

“You evaded my question.”

“I was getting ready and lost track of time. God forbid, I try to look nice for my boyfriend and the people he works with.”

He lightly scoffed, almost impressed with the girlfriend's act.

“So you’re really Mr. Choi’s girlfriend?” An employee you’ve yet to meet sitting across from you asked.

“Yes! Why is that so hard to believe,” you chuckled.

Soonyoung, well off his rocker and having already taken down a bottle or two of soju, was quick to intrude. “Well, because he’s terrifying.”

And not even a second after, his coworker–Seungkwan, if you recall correctly–clasped a hand over his mouth, his eyes growing wide as saucers before immediately clarifying. “He’s exaggerating! Mr. Choi just seems very…reserved and independent. Maybe too involved with his work?” The man trod lightly, lowering his gaze as Seungcheol shot his eyes back at him when he might as well shoot laser beams. Seungkwan felt them burn through his skull as he internally scolded himself, repeatedly tapping his mouth, for possibly speaking out of turn.

You nodded, pouring yourself a shot and following with a slice of beef off the grill. “It’s true. He’s a lunatic.”

The room went silent, all eyes falling on you as your words sunk in. The second hand fear was palpable, even Soonyoung began to sober up. Seungcheol scoffed, turning to the side as you enjoyed your free meal, not giving a second thought to your insult.

“I tell him he’s always in the office. Always, always! When is he gonna make time for anything else? He might die in that office one day,” you egged, taking another piece of meat followed by another shot.

The young man who introduced himself as Joshua tried his best to come to your rescue, “Miss, that might be–”

“It’s why I started visiting him during lunch. If I didn’t he would live off chicken, rice, and those disgusting whey shakes, wouldn’t he?”

Team member Jihoon chortled before immediately piping down when he saw Seungcheol’s quick side eye before the manager directed his attention back to you, who had a lot to say. The entire team stood, thinking their superior was seconds away from blowing up his shit in your face, they braced for impact. Instead, he rested his elbow on the dining table, rubbing his fingers to his temple, simply responding with, “You’re so loud.”

You pointed childishly, taunting him as if it was recess at a playground. “See, he doesn’t even have a comeback! He isn’t human.”

“Why did I invite you again?”

“Because I’m pretty and delightful?”

“No, seriously.”

Relief fanned out amongst the crew, and held breaths were released as chuckles and smiles took their place. They could breathe knowing that they had you to distract him, settling the nerves they had. Finally, most of them could find themselves enjoying the rest of the night and drinking all the soju and beer their hearts desired.

Throughout the evening, you and Seungcheol would bicker, picking each other apart like an old married couple as the rest watched, occasionally joining in when a common interest was brought up. You would usually engage as Seungcheol just quietly sat back listening, sometimes silently agreeing, learning more things about his employees this one night than the entire year he’s been manager. Seungcheol hadn’t experienced anything like this, or if he had, he didn’t remember.

“You’re enjoying this,” Seungcheol said under his breath, watching you finish a third lettuce wrap.

“I am,” you whispered, chuckling.

“This is the strangest combination I’ve ever seen, but it strangely works,” Jeonghan, one of the more honest members of the department, confidently stated.

Joshua joined in, agreeing. “They really compliment each other for some reason.”

“How did you two meet anyway,” Jihoon politely asked, “If you’re comfortable telling that story.”

You turned to Seungcheol, “You want to tell them or should I?”

He gave you a look, one that said, it’s your job, and you quickly got the hint. 

He was prepared for some cliche, something dumb like out of a romance movie. What he didn’t expect was the next words to come out of your mouth. 

“We actually are childhood friends.”

“You’re the same age?!”

That set them off. Suddenly flurries of grown adults gather around you to hear your story with their starry eyes, eating out of the palm of your hand with every word. It was a talent how you could lie, sprinkling in bits of the truth for authenticity, making every word that came out of your mouth sound like scripture. All while you tossed back soju shots and Seungcheol nursed a single beer in his hand.

“You’re like a movie, childhood rivals to estranged friends to lovers, wow. Lifetime would pay millions,” Chan gushed with red cheeks, covering his face with his palms.

Jeonghan suddenly pounced at an exciting idea. “Love Shot. Love Shot. Love Shot. Love Shot.”

They rest followed after him, chanting louder and louder. “Love Shot! Love Shot! Love Shot! Love Shot! Love Shot! Love Shot!”

Seungcheol shook his head. “No, no. We’re not doing that.”

The chants immediately faded out, only a whisper of its remains left in the form of a lost Soonyoung.

“Don’t take it personal, guys. He’s a lightweight. He’s had that beer since he came in and still hasn’t finished because we both know he’d be out like a light if he drank even half of it,” You taunted.

Seungcheol felt challenge brew within him, narrowing his eyes back at you. “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s okay, Honey, being a weak drinker doesn’t mean it's the end of the world.”

The office manager huffed, standing up slamming the metal dining table and startling everyone around him. “One of you, any of you, bring us some soju and two of the biggest glasses you have.”

Their feet scrambled, and demands were met. Your fake boyfriend smirked back at you as he started filling up your glass, pushing it toward you before he started filling up his.

“Lun-a-tic,” you sounded, claiming the glass.

You scooted closer holding the cups in the air before locking elbows and gazes. The glass pressed to your lips, the bitter liquid making it past your mouth and feeling it burn down your throat and then brewing something sinister in your gut, having you struggle to finish it. Meanwhile, your opponent drank his as if it was water, his eyes staring back at you in mockingly, grinning apparently despite his lips being preoccupied.

This little shit.

You both ended with a clean finish, slamming the cups on the metal surface, and you’re swarmed with cheers, reminding you that you had an audience. The heat was instantaneous, spreading all over you like fire, as your eyes grew heavy, the rush of cheeks becoming less coherent and just noise at this point of the night.

“Yeah, they definitely did taekwondo together.”

“I have never seen Mr. Choi that competitive before. He’s so cool!”

That last bit made Seungcheol snicker as he wiped the remaining alcohol off his lips, observing you as you uncharacteristically remained quietly seated with nothing else to say. “And I’m the lightweight? Can you even stand up right now?”

You gave him a mocking look, pulling yourself up from your seat and began doing all the sobriety tests you could possibly think of. From talking in a straight line to touching your toes, you made sure to do all the nine yards. After feeling like you succeeded (you didn’t), you then blew raspberries in his face until finally doing your perfect impression of a big buzzer. “Try again!”

Seungcheol fell off his chair laughing, face bright red in the matter of seconds, belly laughing and stunning everyone that was lucky enough to witness before he crawled up to get back in his chair. He pointed at you, still laughing, “You look so stupid!”

“Oh,” Minghao pointed at his superior’s face, “He has a dimple.”

“Nevermind that, he’s laughing.”

“Take a picture! Take hundreds of them!”

The rest of the night became a blur, a chaotic blur Seungcheol was probably better off not remembering, but all of the things he did remember made him feel warm. Or perhaps that was the alcohol lodged into his system. Company dinners can be alright. He probably won’t go to all of them, but one here and there wouldn’t hurt.

The next time Seungcheol felt awake was when he was in his bedroom, the sun peeking through the curtain as it beamed down on him. It was rare for him to wake up after the sun came up. “What the…”

He had no idea how he got home, pulling the covers off himself and immediately looking for his phone and found it conveniently plugged, and said that it was– “9:34. Fuck.”

"Rise and shine, sunshine,” you said bursting through the room, and Seungcheol immediately threw the covers back on, hiding his body as soon as he realized he looked the shittiest he’s ever looked. “How the fuck–why the hell are you in my apartment? How the hell are you in my apartment?”

“I took you home yesterday.”

“There’s a keypad!”

You giggled. “You put in the code for me. Drunk you is very nice.”

“You were drunk too!”

You clamped your hands over your ears. “Stop yelling, god. I sobered up hours before you did. Hangover still sucks though.”

“Still doesn’t explain how you found out where I fucking live.”

“The ID in your wallet, of course, which you should really be more careful about giving it to people when you’re drunk because, holy shit, I would've scammed you. What if it got into the wrong hands?”

“I’M LOOKING RIGHT AT THEM!”

“OW! Chill out. How are you not hungover right now?”

“I am, but–shit, none of this is making sense.”

“Well, while you have your mid-life crisis, I left a hangover cure and breakfast on your coffee table. Eat it, you’re going to want it. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you sleep here?”

You shrugged, “Oh the couch. It was like 2am and I was still tipsy, I wasn’t gonna go out there and become a statistic.”

“You just slept in a man’s apartment like nothing.”

“It’s your apartment. I’m fine.”

“Am I not a man?”

You rolled your eyes, waving him off. “You are hardly a human, iRobot. Now go eat. Oh, and remember next Sunday is my day, Carts and Tarts. Golfing and brunch with some of my college friends, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“What did I tell you about weekends?”

“Make an exception, yesterday went extremely well. I think everyone is warming up to you a bit more, and all you have to do is stand next to me. And maybe smile, but that's it!”

He groaned, throwing a pillow in his face, the migraines kicking in hard. “I feel like shit.”

“Which means it was a success! We’ll go over what you’ll be wearing and a bit of characterization over the week.”

“Characterization?” Seungcheol mumbled, the word foreign on his tongue. 

“Enjoy your Saturday!”

Carefully, you walked out, closing the door behind you and hearing the automatic lock click in pace. You passed through his front lawn, making your way past his gates, and you took sight of his neighborhood–admittedly prettier in daylight– before heading down the sidewalk to hail a cab. Waiting for one to arrive, you marinated in what transpired the night before and the images played in your mind in full color, as if it happened just moments ago.

“Fuck, you’re huge.”

“You tol’ me ta’ already.” Seungcheol murmured as he buried himself into your shoulder, letting you drag him to the entrance of his residence.

“What’s your code?”

“Secret,” he giggled. 

To which, you rolled your eyes. “You put it in then.”

You pushed him closer to the keypad, holding his wrist up to the screen and lifting up his head so he could see the numbers. His eyelids almost sunk to the bottom, but it was barely visible enough to make out what was in front of him. “Oh, I know this game, I’m good at games…”

“I’m sure you are, try this one out.”

His finger limply hovered over the keypad, giggling up a storm.“ 0…5…2…6.”

“You said it was a secret and said it out loud anyway, are you that drunk?”

“I win!”

“Oh, my god.” You rushed him inside, hoping none of the neighbors showed up or were nearby to have heard that, and scanned the perimeter for his bedroom. His instinct kicked in the second he entered inside, and he pulled away from you, taking himself upstairs.

“He’s gonna fucking kill himself.” You trailed behind him, on every step behind him, ready to catch him behind every tumble, and ensuring that Seungcheol in no way hurt himself as he made it up those steps.

As he finally reached the top floor, he turned the corner, entered a very obvious bedroom, and collapsed on the king-sized bed in the center. He laid sprawl, limbs spread wide like a starfish, and the biggest grin on his face that showcased his dimple gracefully embedded in his cheek.

You chuckled before dragging his body up the bed, urging him off the covers to usher him under. “Okay. I’m leaving now.”

You then turned away, about to leave when felt something wrap around your wrist pulling you near the bed.

“Don’t go.”

Your head back to see Seungcheol at the brink of tears, his features softening at the sight of you as he curled up into bed, sniffling. You dipped a little closer. “You don’t want me to leave?”

He shook his head, whining childishly, “Stay…”

He pulled you closer, now ushering you on the bed, and suddenly you were there together, him ready to sleep all tucked in, and you firmly sat because a grown man with the most heart wrenching puppy dog eyes asked you not to go. 

So you stayed, just as he asked, and slept in the living room once he was sound asleep.

You smiled to yourself, regretful you didn’t take a picture or record a video of the incident. Although, if you did and he found out, he would’ve killed you. Or, you would’ve had some delicious blackmail material. The world may never know. You were just happy to know he still had that side to him. It was refreshing, and honestly, it made you a little hopeful.

Now you had to see if you could drag it out of him sober.

“Now to be the perfect boyfriend, my friend group has always said that the guy had to check at least five of these boxes.”

He looked back at you, not showing any interest in the matter while absentmindedly drinking his Americano that he used to hate, but he’s been enjoying a lot more lately thanks to you. “Is this all really necessary?”

You nodded determinedly. “You’re unlikable, and you need lessons. Yes, this is very important.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve received two good mornings today, and only five people decided to hide from me.”

“No one should be hiding from you,” you rubbed your chin in thought, “Sounds like you still need work. I might have to phase in a new method.”

“Excuse me, what new method would that be?”

“Never mind that. For now, Carts and Tarts. The girls have always said a guy needs five things: eyes, ears, mouth, heart, and…” Your gaze lowered to his nether regions, and Seungcheol did a double take, covering his privates with a pained expression.

“Those are just body parts, and have some decorum, would you?”

You pointed to the first box you needed checked. “Eyes: they need to be able to pay attention to you, notice things about you that you or other people wouldn’t otherwise see. To be loved is to be seen.”

Seungcheol listening to your reasoning and then mentally noting it for later. “Ah, and ears.”

“Listening to what you have to say. Being heard is just as important, but it doesn’t stop at hearing the words, it’s understanding the meaning behind them, which brings me to…”

“Mouth. To speak?” he easily guessed.

You nodded, passing him a cookie. “Ask questions. Learn why they’re happy, sad, angry, or anxious. Or even, include them in your conversations, sometimes they want to hear what you’re interested in. I think you’re getting where I’m going next.”

He took apart the cookie, breaking it in half, and passed it back to you. “Heart. Have a passion for something.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. Sometimes it's a job, or a family, or a passion projection, but there needs to be ambition and drive, but most importantly and above all, they love you. If they love you enough, they can balance both. They should have something in their life besides you, but still love you, you know?”

Seungcheol was buffering a bit on that last one but he decided not to question it. “I’m assuming that last one has to do with coitus?”

Mid-chew of your snack, appalled enough to speak with it still in your mouth while spewing out its crumbs, “Why would you use that word?”

“I knew I would invoke an interesting reaction, but not cause an avalanche.” 

You rolled your eyes, tapping your mouth with a napkin. “Everyone wants to have orgasms in their relationships, it’s at the top of their Christmas list. I’ve seen so many relationships get broken up because the sex sucked or someone has a weird kink–and I’m not kink shaming! Being weird can be cool.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said plainly.

“I’m just saying.”

“Never in my life did I expect this to be the topic of today’s meeting.”

You flatten your hands against the table, a satisfied smile on your face. “Well, now you understand. Try to pretend you're at least any one of these, and play up the boyfriend bit. You already know a little about me, just put it to good use.”

He observed you, studying your intent under the humor and lighthearted candor. “You really care a lot about this.”

“It’s just annoying how much they care about how much I'm getting laid. They’re a very large and very involved bunch.”

Seungcheol shut his eyes in disdain. “Why do they care?”

“Everyone is just either dating, married, or engaged. I'm the last person left, and I haven’t had a relationship that’s lasted more than three months. I just want them to lay off, make them think I'm dating someone with marriage in mind.”

“And when we don’t get married?”

You grinned, as if you have been waiting for this question to be asked. “I’ve curated a long 2-year plan to make us look like a committed couple. We fall in love passionately, so in love that we summer together and backpack over Europe, Asia, seeing all the great seas, seeing the world together…but then, I come back home, sad and single because even though you proposed and are desperately in love with me–”

“I think there are some plot holes–”

“You fall ill bitten by a radioactive spider exploring a jungle and pass away,” You concluded, exaggeratedly gasping into your hands.

“...isn’t that the plot to Madame Web?”

“You actually watched that?”

“You don’t know what I do on my weekends.”

“Watching awful movies is what it sounds like.”

He looked up to the ceiling, trying to visual all this together, as if any of this was remotely feasible. “We live in the same city, has it ever occurred to you that I could bump into any one of them?”

You shrugged, “Easy. You turn around and run in the other direction.”

“Your plan is horrendously flawed.”

“You wanna get married then?”

“Where’s the spider? I can get a headstart.”

“Just be a good little boyfriend.”

Seungcheol tsked. 

“What?”

He looked off at the window, noticing that it was going to rain soon. Things needed to pick up if he wanted to get back to the office dry. “I just wouldn’t have thought that you of all people would cater to a society that cared about something superficial like having a boyfriend.”

Your smile faltered. “Well, a lot has happened in 20 years. And who says I’m catering to anyone? Ever consider maybe…forget it.”

He narrowed his eyes, challenge burning through them, “What? Finish your thought.”

“We’re done here. Just come on Sunday, follow the dress code, and don’t be yourself,” and with that you threw your tote over your shoulder and walked out, not bothering to wait for him to trail after you, hailing a cab on your own accord.

The rest of the week you would make your lunch ‘dates,’ but it would be mainly for show, having you only swirling your straw in your drink as you moped, halfheartedly being present for most of the time. Usually, Seungcheol would appreciate silence, but from you, it was deafening, even with the background noise of the cafe. 

He pretended not to notice, sitting in silence with you, but he’d occasionally look up, seeing you glued to your phone, only interacting with him when it came to what they were contractually obligated to do for one another. He should’ve been pleased, yet, he was dying to talk to you.

Sunday finally came around and unfortunately, your bad mood had traveled with you, even in your cute little tennis skirt get-up you had been looking for the opportunity to wear. At least, Seungcheol had made the effort to look the part for the day. That morning you met, and he surprised you with his cooperation by looking like every country club asshole you've ever met, down to the pristine khakis and golf shoes with matching socks. You wondered if he bought that before the plans were set in motion, or if he already had it lying around. Either way, he looked convincing enough to persuade a few friends. 

“Good job,” you whispered halfheartedly.

“How long do we have to be here?” He mumbled under his breath, cutting into his spinach omelet after forgoing all the possible carb options, just like you expected him to.

“Two hours, tops. Just watch them get a couple swings in and we can excuse ourselves after, say we have another thing we gotta go to.”

You were then greeted by a familiar voice, beckoning you from the other end of the table. Her eyes were bright and perfectly cat eyed, lips pink and glossy, but her voice was mature and curious, dying to pull the information she could out of you. “So, how did you two come to know each other?”

Chaeyoung had always been an instigator, asking the pressing questions and demanding answers. It was natural for her as a news investigator, and she was the one who insisted your new boyfriend come to initiate him into their pack. This happened to be the first time you accepted her challenge, earning her intrigue, and like she did with all your boyfriends she’s had the pleasure–or more often displeasure than not–of meeting, she had to get the rundown. And she would do whatever she could to get it.

You cleared your throat, wiping your lips with a tablecloth. “Well—“

“Not you, darling, let’s hear it from Seungcheol.”

He hadn’t prepared for this, snapping his head at you a glint of panic was in his eyes. You grinned over at Chaeyoung, holding onto Seungcheol’s hand that rested on the table. “Don’t go interrogating my boyfriend, he just got here.”

“Well, it’s only fair to tell his version while he's here. There’s never been a gathering as big as this with your other boyfriends. He has to be special if you brought him here today.”

“Chaeyoung—“

“I can tell the story,” Seungcheol finally reassured.

You looked at him confused then bewilderment, fearing the words that come out of his next could be the end all be all of this entire charade.

You had to stop him before he ruined this. “Cheol—“

“She came crashing into my life, and I haven’t known peace since.”

If your eyes bulged any bigger, they would be falling out of your head. “I—“

“Really?” Chaeyoung’s interest got piqued, leaning in closer as the everyone else at the table lowered their voice, hoping to listen in. “How so?”

“We had met before. A long, long time ago, and I couldn’t fathom her existence in the slightest. She was a mind bending whirlwind, like no one else I’ve ever met before, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. That period of our lives we spent almost every waking moment with each other, telling each other things that we promised not to tell anybody else. Like an oath. And then all of a sudden, one day, we lost contact. No calls, no letters, no voicemails. We didn’t speak to each other for years until…,” he turned to you, a subtle softness in his eyes that only you could barely recognize under that cold, stiff exterior. “We passed by each other at a cafe near my office. I didn’t know what to think of it first…but she called it fate.”

He turned back to everyone, and they all just stared, peering at the newcomer as if he was a saint dropped from the sky, while the women at the table swooned after listening to his story, clinging onto his every word.

“Men like him do exist…” Yeri said dreamily, ignoring her longtime boyfriend, who at the moment was scarfing down his fifth quiche.

You were shell shocked, jaw actually dropped slack until Seungcheol stuffed an egg tart in it, occupying your mouth to avoid suspicion.

“And he’s feeding her. Why don’t you feed me?!”

“Dammit, they’re adorable.”

You weren’t sure who you were sitting with anymore. The fake boyfriend you hired was a calculating, condescending, arrogant prick that relied on you to make him look good. How was he doing a better job than you?

“Do you golf, Seungcheol?” Baekho inquired, warming up to him after hearing the sweet fable. “If so, we have to see your swing.”

He replied back with a shrug, “I’ve dabbled, although I was going to take it easy today.”

He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This one isn’t sure how long we can stay.”

You glared at him, how dare he push the blame on you. You looked back at Baekho apologetically. “We had a prior engagement. I’m sorry. I mixed the dates up and couldn’t cancel on either one of you.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t mean you can’t play. Just a round, what do you both say?”

Seungcheol looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and you truly do not know how to approach it in the slightest.

“Okay, I guess a round can’t hurt.”

Baekho along with many other guests lit up in excitement. “Well, what are we waiting for? On the field, we go!”

Several members of the brunch got a head start on the field, taking their clubs and carts as they started heading off the first hole. Meanwhile, Seungcheol pulled you aside, seeing that you were both alone with no one else to eavesdrop. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“What? It’s one round.” You shrugged. “A game can’t be that long.”

A pained expression struck his face, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he tightly shut his eyes. “Have you ever played golf?”

“No, I was never interested in it.”

“Jesus—do you see how big this field is? An average game of golf is four hours, sometimes more.”

Your eyes were about to shoot out of their sockets like any of the golf balls on the field. “Four hours?!”

“Yes, and you just,” he sighed, “Come on.” 

He took you by your hands, noticing them covered in a pair of gloves before dragging you to your designated cart. “Why the hell do you own golf gloves if you don’t golf?

“I thought today was the day I’d start,” you cried, nearing the verge of tears as you came to the realization of the eternal hell you’ve subjected yourself to.

And Seungcheol did not lie, it felt as if it would go on forever. As everyone was putting, the sun was beaming down on you, slowly but surely killing your will to live. At this point, you welcomed it. You already started to envy the ice in your lemonade that melted, seeing it was given the mercy of peace from this endless boredom. You weren’t used to being outside for this long. During these brunches, you would be inside in the spa by now with mud baths, not getting ready to be spattered in mud puddles when a ball hits water.

“Fore!”

“Just let the ball hit me right at the temple, right here,” you quietly mumbled from your golf cart, watching Baekho in front of you take a swing as a couple of other members of the brunch spectated from behind.

Seungcheol reunited beside you, taking a swig of his water bottle and sweating after swinging a few times around the field. “I guess this counts as my workout for the day.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations,” you responded sarcastically, numb to all feelings.

He leaned over the golf cart, arms over the cart roof. “You had every opportunity to say no.”

“And I didn’t, okay? You gonna rub it in my face?”

He grinned, that dimple you once found cute growing increasingly irritating. “Potentially.”

“You’re actually having fun, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, not denying it. “Golf is entertaining on occasion, and it’s true I didn’t plan on playing, but it’s kind of nice to be playing with a group this big. It used to be just me and father.”

“He taught you how to play?”

“He thought it was good to teach about control. It forced me to utilize the amount of strength and helped me understand optimal angles. Once you master that, you can get closer to reaching your optimal target. He said that’s just about all you need to be the person you want to be in life.” Although he sounded as if he spoke fondly, a storm brewed in his gaze, one that it seemed like it would persist if you pressed on any further.

“Wow…somehow you made golf even more boring.” You stepped off the cart, stretching your legs and bending your knees to make sure they don’t give out on you in pins and needles. “I might go back to the club house. Get something more to eat, catch the news, learn about some new propaganda, anything but this really.”

His gaze pulled up behind, staring past your head at coming towards you both, eyes widening in fear. “Look out!”

His arms wrapped around you, clutching your body before he tore you away from the ground beneath you, and shielded you from the incoming impact. Your face buried in his chest, hearing the deafening screech of wheels scraping the grass as it dug into a puddle conveniently in front of you both and just in the way of the vehicle gone rogue, splashing mud water onto whoever was nearby.

“Oh shit, my bad!” Beomgyu, the cart boy and designated driver of the vehicle, said quickly before driving off.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, pounding against his as it raced at the same erratic pace. Your bodies intertwined with one another, his caging yours like a momentary safe haven. He pulled back you to level with him, feeling his firm grip hold you steady. “You okay?” Seungcheol asked, scanning you over.

You panted softly, your breath caught in your throat, since you were still in shock from the near collision that had just happened before calmly nodding. He looked you over, dusting any dirt and debris off of you, and he finally let you free once he was sure for himself you were fine. “You should’ve just stayed on the cart. That could’ve gotten really bad,” he scolded, pushing your golf cap over your eyes.

“Hey! Oh my god! What happened?”

Your friends rushed over after seeing the scene, prodding you with concerning questions to which you answered with ‘I’m fine’s and ‘okay’s. However, amongst the noise, you finally took notice of Seungcheol, specifically, the aftermath of the incident and his clothes stained in murky brown specks and splotches.

“Your clothes…” you pointed out with a guilt ridden face.

He shook his head reassuringly, “I’ll change once I get home.”

“Nonsense,” Minhyun retorted, “Grab something from the merch shop. Complimentary of course.”

“I appreciate it,” Seungcheol nodded, “I do think I’ll have to take her back home. I don’t know if I can keep playing after that just happened.”

“Of course! We understand,” Junhui agreed, looking toward you empathetically. “Make sure she’s okay, and take care, kid.”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol said, finally getting on the cart and driving off the field. It wasn’t until you were halfway across the field that you realized what he had managed to do in the matter of seconds you had. You pivoted your head to him, seeing that the concern that was once on his face melt into his default expression, phlegmatic with a hint of arrogance.

“You evil genius.”

Seungcheol smirked, looking at you through his peripheral vision. “‘Strike the iron, while it’s hot,’ I believe the saying is called.” 

You made a visit to the merch shop as Minhyun suggested and met with the shopkeeper about getting their signature embroidered shirt with the country club's logo on the breast. He welcomed you, saying he was expecting you both after getting a call, but apologizing for the limited sizes. It was out of both your hands at that point, so you accepted it, handing Seungcheol off the medium and hoping for the best.

“I think this room is good.” You looked for an empty multipurpose for him to change into after seeing all the bathrooms nearby were closed for maintenance. The efforts to go further across the club for other bathrooms wasn’t worth the trouble, so this seemed to be the next best thing.

He followed after you, holding the shirt and walking in nonchalantly as you tried to quietly close the heavy door shut. He peered over at you, watching you behave strangely suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Closing the door!” you shout-whispered. “What if people see us sneaking around and think we’re doing something indecent?”

“You think shutting the door quietly and whispering makes us look any better?” he asked in a normal volume.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you respond in your normal volume.

He rolled his eyes before pulling the bottom of his shirt up and over his head, seeing every inch of his abdomen: every muscle, every curve, and every vein.

“Woah,” you quickly turned around. “Just couldn’t wait to get your clothes off in front of me, could you?”

He scoffed, putting his dirty shirt aside before picking up the new one. “Why’d you turn around? Nothing you’ve never seen before, I’m sure.”

“Did you just slut shame me while you’re the one taking your clothes off? The gall!”

He pulled his newly acquired shirt over his head, feeling it hug his body as he stretched out the fabric. “You can look now.”

You spun back, seeing that the shirt they’ve got might have been a tad smaller than they anticipated, compressing against him to the point that his muscles bulged at the seams, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He might as well not have worn a shirt at all. “That might be a bit small on you,” you stiffly pointed out.

“Well, it’s all we have.” He looked in the reflection in the mirror placed on the wall, unfortunately agreeing with you, checking himself in the mirror and already feeling it start to chafe.

“I’m surprised you did that today,” you brought up. “The speech, then the crazy save, wow.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, so was I. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How did you improv all that so quickly?”

He shrugged, attempting to stretch the fabric even a little bit, hoping it wouldn't tear. “I didn’t really. I just said how I felt.”

“Wait, really?”

He slightly turned his head. “Yes. Like how I couldn’t fathom how someone as insane and careless as you existed.”

You clenched your teeth, knitting your eyebrows together, “You fu-“

“Or when I couldn’t get you out of my head. It’s true, I made it my life’s mission then to beat you at every taekwondo match possible.”

“I hate you so—”

“And you said it was fate, not me, so technically I didn’t even lie.” He turned back, walking back to you, “Then again, omission is a form of lying on its own. You would know since lying to my employees is like an Olympic sport to you.”

Your nose scrunched, displeased. “Your welcome, whatever. We fooled them. Good work. That will keep them off my back for a couple weeks.”

He clapped his hands. “Good, sounds like my work is done.”

“Ha. For now. Your end though, still requires a lot of work. Look forward to that overtime.”

That’s where phasing the new method came in. It was a risky move that you had your doubts about, but considering the trauma bonding that fine Sunday, you were sure Seungcheol could warm up to the idea. However, it couldn’t work if he knew it was happening, that’s why he had to go in blind.

[part 2 immediately found here]

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae @flwrshwa @itsmarieposa @palmsugr @apriyada @skittlez-area512 @choco-scoups @actuallynarii @tournesol155 @vvvlog @nerdycheol @christinewithluv @alyssa19123456 @kwonhs96 @scheolrriess @ch-rrycloud @fancypeacepersona @obsessionreads09 @userelv @minahaeyo @cookiearmy @wonwooz1 @carefully325

[annicht]

kitten dad | Kuroo Tetsuro

or when your persian princess get pregnant by the black tomcat of the hot neighbor

-> post timeskip Kuroo Tetsuro X fem! reader | strangers to lovers

-> wordcount: 7.5k

-> tags: soft nsfw close to the end, sloooow burn, mutual pinning, post timeskip

@ anni says: I had to take this out of my head. already thinking about part two. let me know if it's too much bc I found it very dragged, idk. hope you enjoy

Marching torwards your neighbor door, you question yourself how is that even possible.

Your cat, Lola, a white persian, lies lazily on the animal carrier, and you huff annoyed, looking at her.

“I thought you hated other cats, you little troublemaker” — you mumble to the cat like she can understand you. And for her lazy grumbling, you know she can.

You knock on the white door three times. It’s late enough for the guy already be at home from work, but not late enough for him to be sleeping, you think in your head, looking at the 20:37 appearing at your watch. He’s a corporate worker like yourself, you saw him many times in the elevator with his suit and tie and his badge—

You were dry cut mid thought by the door opening, and the delicious scent of musky soap invading your senses.

Kuroo is standing, puzzled, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tank top, slightly wet hair, tilting his head. The girl next door, he thinks to himself.

He had seen you around countless times on the common areas, in the elevator, in the pool in a skimpy bikini, even at the gym. But what could you possibly be doing on his door?

You look at him, allowing your eyes to fall in his figure for miliseconds, enough to take notice of his strong biceps on show. Scrumptious. Then you focus back on his face.

“Hi, neighbor. Your cat just impregnated my kitty.”

He just looks at you for a couple seconds, his eyes slightly widening as the words slowly sunk on his brain.

“Excuse me?” — He asked, blinking. He’s either really tired or you are saying the most unlikely thing ever, and he didn’t know what is worse.

You squint, still a little annoyed, but slowly getting amused.

"Sorry the suddenness... you're the owner of that black short-haired cat, aren't you?"

You ask, and as if on cue, the little fella appeared strutting and mumbling a grumble behind Kuroo's legs, apparently curious of who's in the door

Kuroo looks down at the cat and then back at you, his eyes widening a bit as realization sank in.

“Ah— yes…” He says slowly, his eyebrows knitting in a frown. “This is Loki, yeah”.

He looked down at the cat again, who is now sitting and looking up at you with his big, yellow eyes, as if he knew exactly what you were about to say.

Kuroo crouched down to scratch behind Loki’s ears, his lips quirking into an amused grin.

“Looks like someone had a productive week,” he said dryly, casting a glance back up at you.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Productive? That’s one way to put it. My vet bill is going to be very productive, thanks to him.”

Kuroo straightened up, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his tank top stretched across his chest. You swallowed quickly and forced your gaze to his face— a smirking face, of course.

“Alright, I guess I owe you an apology?” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Though, to be fair, it takes two to tango. Maybe your girl couldn’t resist Loki’s charm.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his playful boldness. “Excuse me? My Lola is a lady of standards.”

“Clearly,” Kuroo said with a teasing edge, his smirk deepening. “I mean, look at Loki—absolute catch.”

You tried not to laugh, but a small snort escaped, and you covered it with a cough. “Okay, fine. Maybe they’re both to blame. But seriously, I thought she hated other cats. I didn’t even know they interacted.”

“Cats are sneaky like that,” he replied, shrugging, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long. You felt a strange warmth creep up your neck and mentally cursed him for being so... distracting.

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat and glancing down at Lola, who was now staring at Loki with her usual haughty expression, “Anyways. Just wanted to let you know that. And to ask if you know anyone who might want some… persian mixed kittens? I figure that the least you could do is help me find a home for them after they born”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re already putting me to work, huh? I didn’t realize Loki’s charm would come with responsibilities.”

You shot him a flat look, though the corners of your lips twitched. “You do realize this is partially your fault, right? Or are you just going to let me deal with a whole litter of kittens by myself?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fair enough. Consider me on kitten duty.” His smirk softened into something a bit more sincere. “I’ll help however I can. They are Loki’s kids, after all.”

Something about the way he said it, the playful yet genuine tone, made your resolve to stay annoyed falter. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

“Good,” you said, a little less stern this time. “You can start by helping me figure out where to set up for them. I don’t have much space in my apartment.”

Kuroo’s grin returned in full force. “So what I’m hearing is... you’re inviting me over?”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his boldness, but you recovered quickly, giving him a pointed look, raising your eyebrows smugly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, neighbor. This is strictly business.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how much you liked it. “Strictly business, got it.”

Loki chose that moment to rub up against Kuroo’s leg, his tail swishing as he let out a satisfied purr. Lola, still sitting primly in her carrier, let out an indignant grumble in response.

“Seems like they’ve got a complicated relationship,” Kuroo remarked, glancing down at the cats. “Enemies? Lovers? Frenemies?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Let’s just call them… complicated.”

“Works for me,” he said with a wink, straightening up. “Complicated relationships are kind of my specialty.”

Before you could respond—because what could you say to that without your brain short-circuiting?—Kuroo kept going: “I’ll check around to see if anyone’s interested in adopting some kittens,” he added casually. “Can I have your phone number? You know… to discuss kitten details?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the glint of mischief in his tone. You said back with a mocking hint of disbelief. “Uh-huh. Kitten details. Sure.”

Kuroo raised his hands in mock innocence, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Strictly business, remember?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

He handed it over without hesitation, and you quickly typed in your number, labeling yourself as Kitten Lady. When you handed it back, Kuroo glanced at the screen and let out a laugh.

“Kitten Lady? That’s what we’re going with?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Fits the situation, doesn’t it? Unless you’d prefer something more creative, like Annoyed Neighbor Who’s Stuck With Your Cat’s Consequences.”

“I think Kitten Lady has a nicer ring to it,” he said, his grin widening.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the way his playful energy was starting to chip away at your annoyance. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll be hearing from you soon, Kitten Dad.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn’t argue. “Kitten Dad, huh? I’ll take it. Has a nice familial touch to it.”

You sighed, stepping back toward your door with Lola in tow. “Goodnight, Neighbor,”

“Goodnight, Kitten Lady,” he replied smoothly, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you retreat.

As you reached your door, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, Loki in his arms, one hand casually rubbing behind Loki’s ears, his eyes locked on you with an unreadable expression.

You quickly looked away, fumbling with your keys and stepping into your apartment, shutting the door behind you. Leaning against it, you let out a slow breath, placing Lola’s carrier on the floor and opening the little grid door.

Lola meowed lazily, peeking out of the carrier as if she were judging you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, setting the carrier down and letting her out.

Lola stretched and sauntered off, clearly unimpressed.

You rubbed your temples, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. This was going to be a long few weeks, wasn’t it?

----------------------------------------------------

Across the hall, Kuroo closed his door with a quiet chuckle, looking down at Loki, who was now lounging contentedly on the floor.

“Well, buddy,” he said, crouching down to scratch under Loki’s chin. “Looks like you’ve caused some chaos.”

Loki purred in response, blinking up at him with an air of smug satisfaction.

Kuroo leaned back against the door, a small smile lingering on his lips as he pulled his phone out to save your number properly. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he read Kitten Lady 🐾.

He stared at it for a beat longer, that grin of his softening slightly. This might just get interesting.

----------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly enough —or don’t— he was the one to text first just a day later. You’re at work, sipping coffee after a meeting, scrambling some papers on your desk when your phone buzzed. The Kitten Dad name made you squint your eyes.

Kitten Dad: Hey, goodday sweetheart. You good? Just got asked when is little Lola due. A friend from work might be interested in having one of the kitties.

I look at the text. A friend from work? He text and I can’t help but imagine how is he at work. Is he a manager? A head? A director? Which department is he from? If I had to guess I would say Sales — he’s charismatic enough to sell sand in the desert.

I huff in annoyance with my own train of thought. Why am I thinking so hard about it? I take my phone to answer.

Kitten Lady 🐾: Hey. Vet said she’s due two weeks from now.

The response was simple, straightforward. Yet, as you set your phone down, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d sounded too curt. No, you told yourself firmly. It’s just a text. No need to overthink.

But then, your phone buzzed again, and against your better judgment, you snatched it up almost immediately.

Kitten Dad: Two weeks, huh? That’s soon. Let me know if you need help setting things up for her. I’m practically a cat expert now.

You bit back a smile. Cat expert, huh? You could practically see that cocky smirk on his face, the same one he’d worn when he leaned in the doorframe last night.

Kitten Lady 🐾: Oh, are you? Should I start calling you Dr. Meow?

It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.

Kitten Dad: Has a nice ring to it. Or Cat Whisperer. Either works.

You let out a small laugh, earning a confused look from a passing coworker. Quickly composing yourself, you turned back to your desk, cheeks warming for no apparent reason.

----------------------------------------------------

By the time you got home that evening, you were surprised to find Kuroo opening his door, like he was waiting for you to arrive to leave and talk to you. He was holding a small, rectangular package in his hands and greeted you with his signature grin as he walked torwads you and your door as you opened it.

“Evening, Kitten Lady,” he said smoothly. “Perfect timing.”

You blinked, shifting your bag onto your shoulder. “Uh, hey? What’s that?”

“Thought I’d swing by and help with that whole ‘setting up for Lola’ thing,” he said, holding up the package. “Got a starter kit—fluffy blankets, soft toys, and some other stuff. Figured it might make her more comfortable when the kittens arrive.”

You stared at him, stunned. For all the teasing and smug remarks, you hadn’t expected this. “You… bought stuff for Lola?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I mean, it’s partially Loki’s fault, right? I can’t exactly leave you hanging.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard. He wasn’t just trying to charm his way out of responsibility—he was actually being… thoughtful.

“That’s… really nice of you,” you said finally, unlocking your door. “Thanks, Kuroo.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, following you inside.

Lola, as always, was lounging regally on the couch, barely sparing Kuroo and Loki—who had, unsurprisingly, followed him to your place unbothered—a passing glance.

“She really does act like a queen, doesn’t she?” Kuroo said, setting the box down and kneeling to unpack its contents.

“She’s earned it,” you replied, watching as he pulled out a fluffy blanket and a tiny cat bed. “I mean, look at her. She’s unbothered by everything.”

“Clearly,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “She didn’t even flinch when Loki walked in like he owns the place.”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “She’s probably plotting her revenge for him ruining her peace.”

Kuroo laughed, the sound warm and easy, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. He had a way of making everything feel light, even when you wanted to stay annoyed.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to the task at hand. “Where do you want this stuff? I’ll help you set up her little kitten corner.”

You hesitated for a moment, but eventually pointed to a cozy nook near the window. “Over there, I guess. She likes the sun.”

“Got it,” he said, grabbing the blanket and bed.

As you watched him work, his movements uncharacteristically focused, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this the same guy who smirked at you in elevators and flirted shamelessly by his door? Because right now, he looked… different. Softer, somehow.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you’re surprisingly good at this whole ‘cat dad’ thing.”

He looked up, his grin returning. “What can I say? I have hidden talents.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be so bad after all.

----------------------------------------------------

The kitten corner was finally set up, and Lola had already claimed her throne atop the soft new bed. Loki, meanwhile, was having the time of his life pawing at one of the dangling toys Kuroo had brought over, batting it around like a tiny predator.

You were in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets for something to fix up while Kuroo lounged on the couch. The sound of his laughter floated through the room, warm and unrestrained, as Loki miscalculated a jump and landed in a comically undignified sprawl.

“You weren’t kidding about him being a troublemaker,” you called over your shoulder, smiling to yourself as you grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine you’d been saving for some occasion. This felt good enough.

“Hey, he’s a charming troublemaker,” Kuroo countered, his voice carrying an easy humor. “Loki’s got personality. You can’t fault him for that.”

You rolled your eyes, pouring the wine. “If by ‘personality,’ you mean a complete lack of grace, then sure.”

“Hey now,” he said, mock-defensive, “I’ll have you know he’s a highly sophisticated creature.”

Turning with the glasses in hand, you walked back to the couch and handed him one, tilting your head toward Loki, who was currently tangled in the blanket he’d been pouncing on. “Yeah, I can see the sophistication from here.”

Kuroo snorted, taking the glass from you with a murmured “Thanks,” before shifting to make room for you to sit. You settled cross-legged into the cushion next to him, a comfortable silence falling as you both watched the cats in their oddly synchronized chaos.

“So,” you said after a moment, swirling the wine in your glass, “what do you actually do? Besides spoil Loki and crash your neighbor’s evening.”

Kuroo grinned, taking a slow sip before answering. “I’m a PR manager for the promotion division at JVA. Basically, I work with the teams that keep the company and our sponsors happy. Events, campaigns, all that good stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “JVA? As in the Japan Volleyball Association?”

“That’s the one,” he said, flashing a toothy grin. “Biggest name in the game. It’s a lot of work, but I like it. Keeps me on my toes.”

“Wow,” you said, nodding. “That actually explains a lot. You’ve got that… people-person vibe.”

“Oh?” he teased, leaning back against the couch. “And what vibe is that, exactly?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You know. Smooth talker, always charming. Classic PR type.”

Kuroo chuckled, resting his arm casually along the back of the couch. “I’ll take that as a compliment. What about you? What’s the story with… what do you do, again?”

“Marketing manager,” you said, shrugging. “Different industry, same chaos. I work for a firm that handles branding for retail clients. It’s mostly brainstorming ad campaigns and arguing over budgets.”

“Sounds intense,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But you’re good at it, huh?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I mean, I guess. I like it. It’s creative, and it keeps me busy.”

“Busy’s good,” he said, nodding. “But it doesn’t leave much time for stuff like this, huh?”

You glanced at him, unsure what he meant, but his gaze was fixed on the cats now. Lola was swatting half-heartedly at Loki, who had resumed his enthusiastic assault on the dangling toy.

“No,” you admitted softly, swirling the wine in your glass again. “Not really. I guess I don’t usually let myself slow down.”

Kuroo looked at you then, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Well,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter again, “it’s a good thing you’ve got me to force some downtime on you, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is that what this is? A public service?”

“Exactly,” he said with mock seriousness, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to kitten diplomacy and responsible downtime.”

You clinked your glass against his, unable to hide your smile. “Cheers to that.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax. The warmth of the wine, the sound of his laughter, and the soft chaos of the cats were all more comforting than you’d expected. Maybe Kuroo wasn’t just a charming troublemaker after all.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind him crashing your evening.

----------------------------------------------------

Two glasses of wine in, and you were feeling a little loose, the warm buzz in your cheeks spreading to your limbs. The evening had been lighthearted—talking about work, random anecdotes, and occasional jokes about the cats and their ridiculous antics.

You were now sitting cross-legged on the couch, your messy bun more of a loose cluster than a tidy knot, strands of hair falling against your flushed cheeks. You animatedly gestured with your hands, describing some recent event at work. Kuroo is now leaning forward with that usual relaxed, playful energy that made you forget there was anyone else in the room.

“—and I swear, if I have to sit through one more ‘group synergy’ meeting, I’ll scream,” you finished with a dramatic sigh, dropping back onto the couch, rolling your eyes.

Kuroo snickered, leaning back, arms crossing behind his head as he relaxed. “Group synergy? That sounds like a nightmare. You really don’t like your coworkers, do you?”

You shot him a teasing glare, settling deeper into the couch. “I’m professional, I swear. But, seriously, it’s the worst. A whole hour, and not one person had anything worth saying. They spent half the time discussing what color the logo should be on our next campaign. I almost fell asleep.”

“Well, at least the logo’s going to look great,” Kuroo teased, reaching for his glass and taking a casual sip.

You snorted and looked at him sideways, the wine making you more comfortable than you intended. “You’re one to talk. You’ve probably sat through worse in PR. What’s the worst meeting you’ve ever had to deal with?”

Kuroo tilted his head, thinking. “Hmm, I guess the worst was this entire week-long campaign brainstorming session where we just talked about the idea but never actually did anything. People in that room were like… walking around in their own little PR bubbles. I nearly lost my mind.”

“Is that why you’re so laid-back now? You survived that chaos and just decided to become a permanent chill vibe?”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “I figured if I could survive that and still be sane, I deserve to kick back a little.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “I can’t believe you’ve been in that world for so long. You must have some stories.”

Kuroo’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and you realized you might’ve just opened a can of worms. “Oh, definitely. A lot of interesting ones. You know, the kind where you end up questioning your life choices. And not only work-related.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.”

He leaned in, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “Alright, alright. So, there was this one relationship I had.” He started, and you raise one eyebrow, not expecting him to just switch from work to personal relationship so quickly “She was a wild ride—great at first, but things got a little… crazy. Started out all perfect, you know? But then she started bringing up wedding ideas after a couple of months, and I’m like, ‘Whoa, hold up.’”

You laughed, raising your glass, poiting at him, remembering the topic from earlier, but not entirely knowing the story. “Wait, wait—this is the ex who nearly got you to the altar?”

“Yup,” Kuroo said with a smirk, swirling his glass, “but I guess she wasn’t the ‘I Do’ type, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and the playful lilt in his voice had you biting back a smile.

“No way. Did she have one of those ‘we need to talk’ moments?”

He nodded dramatically. “Oh, she sure did. But instead of talking, she got me into a whole emotional spiral. I was supposed to pick out wedding rings, and I—” He cut himself off with a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, talk about commitment issues. You would have thought I was getting married to someone else the way she freaked out.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “That’s insane. What did you do?”

“Well, after a long string of very loud discussions, I ended up booking a solo trip to Thailand for some ‘soul-searching.’ I didn’t come back with a ring, but I did come back with a lot of souvenirs and a much-needed reality check.”

Your lips curled into a smile, impressed. “I mean, I don’t blame you. That sounds like a red flag festival.”

“Exactly.” Kuroo leaned back, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t think she ever quite understood why I ghosted her after that.”

You shrugged, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Well, sounds like you dodged a bullet. She was probably a headache.”

“Oh, definitely,” he said with a wink. “But, hey, I’m better for it. You live and you learn, right?”

Your expression softened, just for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so. Can’t say I’ve been any better at picking ideal relationships either.”

Kuroo’s gaze flickered to you for a moment, and the sudden shift in the air wasn’t lost on either of you. You could feel the tension coil between you, subtle but undeniable. He tilted his head, his tone more curious.

“You’ve had your fair share of messy affairs?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, but your fingers fidgeted with your wine glass. “I mean, I was in an office relationship once. It was… well, it was a disaster, to be honest. Started out all hot and heavy, you know? But once we hit that *‘what’s next?’* phase, everything went south.”

“Office romances are always a gamble,” he said, voice quieter now. “Especially when someone can’t handle the post-work hours realities.”

You let out a soft laugh, but there was a certain edge to it. “Yeah, and the worst part? I thought we were solid. But he ended up freaking out when things got serious. Real ‘let’s keep it casual’ kind of guy.”

There it was again—the unspoken weight in the air. You could feel it creeping closer, like the world had just tilted slightly. You were both leaning in, caught in this space where the conversation could go anywhere—or nowhere.

“Funny how that happens,” Kuroo murmured, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

You swallowed hard, lips slightly parted, suddenly aware of how close he was. “Yeah,” you said softly, the atmosphere thickening. “Funny…”

A long beat of silence followed. Then, as if the universe itself had just cleared its throat, Kuroo’s smirk deepened, and he leaned back slightly, breaking the tension just enough to let you both breathe again.

“Well, at least you didn’t nearly get engaged,” he said with a teasing grin. “I think that takes the cake on ‘bad decisions’.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh, relieved for the lighthearted tone again. “I’d be so much better at picking next time,” you said, looking at him with a sly grin. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering down to your lips once more. “Oh? What exactly does that lesson look like?”

You felt the heat of his gaze, and the sudden closeness seemed to make the space between you shrink even further. The way he was looking at you, the slight tilt of his head—it was almost like he was waiting for you to make the next move. It made your heart skip a beat.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, but it was hard to ignore the way your body seemed to lean in just a little closer, drawn to him like a magnet. “Maybe…” you began slowly, your voice soft but carrying the weight of something unspoken, “maybe I’ll go for someone who doesn’t have a one-way ticket to Crazy Town.”

Kuroo’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it wasn’t as playful anymore. There was a hint of something else lurking beneath. He leaned in, ever so slightly, as if testing the waters. “You know,” he said quietly, “sometimes, a little bit of crazy isn’t always a bad thing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Is that so?” You met his gaze head-on, not backing down, but feeling your pulse pick up.

“Yeah,” Kuroo replied, his voice lower now, his tone shifting, “sometimes it’s just the right kind of chaos that makes things… interesting.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke, the words heavy with an almost tangible tension.

For a moment, the space between you seemed to dissolve entirely, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was this close to crossing that line. The line you both knew was there, but neither of you had acknowledged it yet.

“Is that what you’re offering?” you teased lightly, though you could hear the slight quiver in your own voice.

Kuroo’s smirk widened just slightly, but the warmth in his eyes remained. “Maybe…” His voice trailed off, but the way he said it made you feel like there was more to it, like he was almost daring you to take it further.

You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in just a little, your lips almost brushing as you whispered, “Maybe I’m not sure if I want to risk another ‘chaos’ just yet.”

Kuroo's gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest moment, and you could feel the charged atmosphere shifting. The space between you was narrowing faster than either of you could pretend it wasn’t. He leaned in a fraction more, and his breath was warm against your skin. “Maybe… that’s a risk worth taking,” he murmured, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced, the distance between you two was practically nonexistent now. You could feel the heat of his body, his presence taking up all the space in the room. The playful teasing was gone—replaced by something far more intimate. More dangerous. His hand reached out, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that had your breath catching in your throat.

Before you could respond, Kuroo's fingers slid gently down your jaw, and his thumb lightly grazed your bottom lip. The gesture was simple, but it felt like the world had stopped. The kiss was inevitable now.

Slowly, almost too slowly, he tilted his head, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most deliberate way. The touch was electric, sending a spark of heat rushing through your veins. You were almost caught off-guard by the intensity of it, but it didn’t take long for your lips to part, inviting him closer.

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper, as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. The world around you melted away, the only thing left was the heat between you two. His lips moved with a teasing confidence, making sure you felt every second of it.

His tongue lapped on your wet cave like a thirsty man that haven’t seen water in years, and the sweet taste of wine made your head spin, chasing his own tongue in a soft sucking move that drove him insane.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. His lips curled into that familiar, mischievous grin. “Guess that’s one way to make a decision,” he said, voice low and raspy.

You opened your eyes to find him watching you, eyes darkened with something more than playfulness. There was still a hint of the teasing smile on his lips, but now it was accompanied by something far more tempting.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little breathless, “I think I’m starting to see what you mean by chaos.”

He chuckled, his hand still on your neck, fingers tracing small, absent circles on your skin. “Well, I’m not all bad at it,” he said with a wink. Without warning, Kuroo tugged gently on your arm, pulling you toward him until you were no longer leaning back on the couch. Before you could fully process it, you were perched on his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his thighs, the space between you two completely gone.

For a moment, you just sat there, a little stunned by how naturally it all happened. His hands slid to your waist, holding you firmly in place as his gaze swept over you. “You look better here,” he said, his voice deep, eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn’t help but laugh, trying to hide the sudden nerves that started to bubble up in your stomach. “Well, this is a bit of an upgrade.” You gave him a teasing smile, your hands resting on his shoulders, but the tension between you was palpable now.

Kuroo’s fingers tightened just slightly on your waist, his expression turning more serious. “Better be careful. We’re both dangerously close to making some bad decisions here.”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” You tilted your head, the edge of a challenge in your tone, but deep down, you weren’t sure whether you wanted him to back off or pull you even closer.

“Nope,” Kuroo said, his lips curling into a grin as he gently tugged you even closer, your body now pressed against his. “Just making sure you know exactly what you’re getting into.”

Before you could respond, Kuroo’s lips found yours again—hungry, a little less playful this time, but just as consuming. Your body reacted immediately, the heat between you two igniting in an instant. There was no more teasing, no more games. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, if that was possible.

When he finally broke the kiss again, he exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against yours. “You sure you want to keep going?” he whispered, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the desire in it.

You grinned, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw, the touch almost affectionate now, despite the electricity between you. “I think,” you said slowly, your lips curling into a mischievous smile, “I’m already in too deep.”

Kuroo’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist as his smirk returned, cocky and satisfied. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”

----------------------------------------------------

The make out session felt like it went on for hours straight. Enough for Loki and Lola engross themselves in the biggest nap, both balls of fur tangled on the fluffy bed.

One of Kuroo’s hand is sliding up your thigh, his long, slender and strong fingers slightly entering the hem of your cotton shorts, squeezing the flesh in his palm. His free arm is sneaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him on the couch as he spreads his legs, making yours spread in the process.

Your hair is as messy as it can get, your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are darkened and dilated, your white dress shirt have three buttons open and is half slid down your shoulder, exposing just a teasing piece of your black lacy bra, making the cleavage a white canvas for his lips to paint with soft red marks.

In swift subtle moves, your body unconsciously grinds down on his hard erection strained through his pants, offering a delicious type of friction that sends a wave of pleasure through your bodies and is both a torment and a relief. The movement makes Kuroo groan inside your mouth, and you swallow his noises like it can feed you phisiologically speaking.

You two are like a couple of horny teenagers dry humping each other on the couch and almost completely out of it. Almost.

That’s when a couple of knocks and a door bell incessantly ringing filled both your ears. Not from your place, but from Kuroo’s. And he groans deeply.

He completely forgot the boy’s night he planned hosting with Bokuto and Kenma in his place, and he mentally curses the past Kuroo Tetsuro for his life choices. But how can he had antecipated that a cat visit to spoil Lola and Loki’s future offspring would end up in his hot neighbor straddling his lap like a five course meal?

When his phone started buzzing on your coffee table with “owl guy” on the screen, he shouted from under you a “I’m coming, damn it”, more huffed and annoyed than he would like, but he didn’t care at the moment.

The scream pacified the guy out there for now, and he collapsed his head on the crook of your neck, mumbling against your skin.

“I gotta go, apparently” — he said while placing soft kisses on your skin, trying to come down from the high and dissipate the intensity between you. You hummed, already resigned with the fate that the momentum between you ended.

“Mkay…” You said, nuzzling in his hair, breathing in the scent of his musky shampoo, trying to tattoo it on your memory. “Go before the guy out there lose his patience,”

He huffed a chuckle on your neck, making you shiver, and you proceed to desintangle yourself from his lap as he stands up. Now standing, Kuroo whistle to Loki, calling him with a soft “Come on, boy” that makes you want it was meant for you. The black cat stands up with his ears perked up, slowly walking behind Kuroo.

You two don’t bid goodbye, not feeling the need to, and the things feel even more unfinished than ever.

----------------------------------------------------

As Kuroo leaves your door, hair messy, traces of smeared pink lipstick on his lips, his jaw and his neck, ragged breath, wrinkled clothes, Bokuto’s eyes widen and he tilted his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“I…” Bokuto started, looking from his door to the door he left “Bro, did I miss your door?”

Kuroo just rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smug smile, walking torwards his door to enter, not bothering answer his question, making the owl guy let out a boisterous laugh

“Ohoho, boy’s night just got a hot topic!”

----------------------------------------------------

Kuroo’s splashed in his couch, sipping from a bottle of water, while Bokuto is sitting on the counter stool, sipping one of Kuroo’s fancy scotches, looking at Kuroo with a funny face.

“Wait, bro, let me see if I got this straight… Your cat… banged the hot neighbor’s cat.. And now you’re doing the same?” Bokuto summarized the story that Kuroo just told him.

“That… sounded… animalistic”

Bokuto snorted, nearly spilling his drink. "Oh, come on, bro. You can’t tell me it’s not poetic. It’s like… fate. Two star-crossed lovers”

Kuroo sighed, rubbing his face with one hand while reaching for his own drink with the other. “First of all, no. Don’t call it fate. Second, Loki didn’t ‘fall in love.’ He just knocked up her cat, and now I’m stuck playing awkward in-law.”

Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows. “And you accidentally ended up in a heavy make-out session with said cat’s owner?”

Kuroo shot him a deadpan look. “Yes, Bokuto. That’s exactly how it happened. I tripped and landed with my tongue in her mouth.”

Bokuto gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “That’s insane! How’d you even keep your balance?”

Kuroo exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

Kenma, who had been half-listening while scrolling through his phone, finally spoke up from the other end of the couch, locking the phone and tossing on the coffee table. “So, are you actually into her, or was this just the wine?”

Kuroo opened his mouth, then closed it. A beat passed. Then another.

Bokuto leaned forward like he could smell the hesitation. “Ohhh, you like her.”

Kuroo groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “I never said that.”

Kenma didn’t even glance up from his phone. “You didn’t have to.”

Bokuto grinned wildly. “Dude, you totally do. You’ve been all ‘hot neighbor this, hot neighbor that’ for months, and now you’re sitting here, looking like you just crawled out of a romance novel—messy hair, lipstick all over you, breathing like you ran a marathon—”

“Alright,” Kuroo cut in, pointing a warning finger. “I met her yesterday. There’s nothing there. We’re done with this conversation.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes at the topic, but his mind was already back at your place, back to the way you felt on his lap, the taste of wine lingering between kisses, and the way your fingers had tangled in his hair like you belonged there.

Yeah, he was screwed.

Bokuto smirked behind his glass. “You know that’s sus, bro. You never not wanna talk about the girls you hook up, sometimes you even share too much for our ears sake. And now you’re done with this conversation? Weird as hell. Are you high on catnip or something?”

Kuroo scoffed, taking a slow sip of his water, trying to ignore the way his ears burned at Bokuto’s words. “I just don’t feel like giving you two a play-by-play of my night, alright? Not everything is meant for your entertainment.”

Bokuto gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Kuroo Tetsuro, keeping a secret? Scandalous.”

Kenma hummed, eyes narrowingskeptically. “It’s either serious or embarrassing. Either way, he’s hiding something.”

Kuroo groaned, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Oh my god, can we talk about something else?”

Bokuto, ignoring him completely, turned to Kenma. “Serious and embarrassing is my guess. I mean, look at him—he’s got that ‘I just realized I have a crush’ face.”

Kenma finally looked up, golden eyes scanning Kuroo for a long, quiet second. Then, with the precision of a seasoned gamer landing a final headshot, he muttered with a smug smile, “You’re overthinking it already, aren’t you?”

Kuroo opened his mouth, but no words came out. His jaw tightened.

Bokuto’s grin widened. “Ohhh, he is.”

Kuroo scowled, sinking deeper into the couch. He hated how well they knew him. He hated even more that they weren’t wrong. His brain had been stuck replaying the feel of you against him, the way your breath had hitched when he’d gripped your thigh, the way your lips had parted right before he kissed you again— everything seemingly so physical and superficial, but there’s a deepth he’s not familiar with in the slightest. Is it the cat connection? Is it because you two shared too much right before the make out session and he realized how you’re a mix of smart, successful, hardworking, independent and authentic wrapped up in devastatingly hot body and pretty face?.

Shit.

He needed to get a grip.

With a sigh, he grabbed the scotch glass from Bokuto’s hand and took a sip himself. “I swear, you two have way too much time on your hands.”

Bokuto just wiggled his eyebrows. “And you have a hot neighbor on your hands.”

Kenma smirked slightly, going back to his phone. “This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Kuroo exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hate both of you.”

Bokuto just laughed, spinning the empty glass in his hands. “Nah, you love us. Just like you looove—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m throwing you off my balcony.”

Bokuto made a show of zipping his lips but kept grinning like he’d already won. And, honestly, maybe he had.

Because Kuroo was distracted. He was so distracted.

Even as Kenma and Bokuto bickered about what game to play next, his mind kept drifting back—to your place, to the taste of wine and heat on your lips, to the way your fingers had tugged at his hair like you needed him.

It was supposed to be a casual thing. Just some alcohol-induced fun. That’s what he’d told himself when he went for the kiss. But the way his body was still thrumming with leftover electricity and his mind was yearning for a deeper connection told a different story.

And the worst part?

He wanted more.

A lot more.

With a quiet groan, he tipped his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. Maybe he really was screwed.

Kenma’s voice pulled him back to the present. “So, when are you seeing her again?”

Kuroo scoffed, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. “I don’t know. Whenever Loki and I happen to bump into her, I guess.”

Bokuto snorted. “Dude, your cat is literally dating her cat. You have the perfect excuse.”

Kuroo glared at him, but his fingers hovered over your name in his messages. Should he text you? Would that be weird? Too soon? Too obvious?

Before he could overthink it, his phone vibrated with a new message.

Kitten Lady: Hey, I was thinking about making some arrangements in the kittens corner tomorrow. Wanna come help me with it?

Kuroo blinked, rereading the text. A slow smirk spread across his lips.

Kenma, eyebrows widden in a stunned expression, muttered, “He’s smiling. This is worse than I thought.”

Bokuto clapped his hands together. “Boys, we have a situation!”

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Island Heat

an: is this what you wanted anon??? i did red roots billie bc i’m mentally still in that era. also ik billie is bi but i couldn’t find a way to make the words flow sooo she’s lesbian today :)

.*.*•┈••✦★✿ »•» ~~💙~~ «•« ✿★✦••┈•.*.*

.*.*•┈••✦★✿ »•» ~~💙~~ «•« ✿★✦••┈•.*.* The glaring Malibu sun beat down on the Love Island villa, the kind of heat that made your skin slick under the barely-there fabrics the producers insisted on. You, Y/N, were sprawled on a daybed, pretending to listen to Liam drone on about his gym routine, when she walked in.

Billie Eilish.

You nearly choked. Knowing she was rumored to be a surprise contestant was one thing, seeing her saunter through the villa doors, all oversized tee and crimson red roots, was another. Her gaze swept across the gathered contestants, lingering a beat too long on you. Your stomach flipped.

The cameras went wild, the other contestants were buzzing, but all you could focus on was Billie. The energy radiating off her was tangible, a magnetic pull that had you instantly hooked. You caught her eye again, and she gave you a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk.

Liam’s voice faded into the background. This summer just got a whole lot more interesting.

As the days turned into nights, the Love Island formula began to unfold. Awkward dates, forced conversations, manufactured drama. But amidst the chaos, there was Billie. You found yourselves gravitating toward each other, drawn by an unspoken connection. You’d steal moments on the periphery, whispering jokes, dissecting the other contestants with a shared, cynical humor.

You learned she hated forced interactions as much as you did, that she preferred dogs to cats, and that her favorite color was blue. You learned her laugh was a low rumble that vibrated straight to your core.

One night, after a particularly grueling challenge involving whipped cream and questionable kissing, Billie pulled you aside as everyone else went inside. “Wanna go to the hideaway suite?” she murmured, her voice husky.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. The hideaway. The infamous “Love Room,” where couples were sent for "private time.” You swallowed hard. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, her eyes dark and challenging. "Thought we could use a break from the cameras, and the… drama."

The producers, predictably, were thrilled. They ushered you both to the hideaway with a chorus of knowing winks and suggestive comments. You tried to ignore them, your focus solely on the nervous flutter in your stomach and the anticipation that hummed in the air between you and Billie. The hideaway was predictably cheesy – rose petals scattered everywhere, a heart-shaped jacuzzi. But as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, all the artifice melted away.

Billie turned to you, her gaze intense. "So," she said, a playful edge to her voice. "What do we do now?"

You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup her face. "I have a few ideas," you whispered, before pressing your lips to hers.

The kiss was electric. It started slow, tentative at first, then quickly escalated into something deeper, hungrier. You tangled your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against yours.

You broke apart, breathless. Billie's eyes were dilated, her lips slightly swollen. "Damn," she breathed.

You pulled the duvet up, creating a curtain of privacy, a small shield from the ever-present cameras. You could hear the muffled sounds of the villa – laughter, chatter, the clinking of glasses. But in this small, draped space, it was just you and Billie.

She kissed you again, deeper this time, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You moaned softly, your hands sliding down to cup her ass, feeling the firm curve beneath the fabric of her shorts.

Billie moved her hand beneath the duvet, her fingers finding your thigh. She squeezed gently before slowly sliding them upwards, inching towards your center. You gasped, arching into her touch.

Her fingers danced against your clit, teasing and circling, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You whimpered, your grip tightening on her hair. "Billie," you breathed, your voice thick with desire. "Oh god..."

She continued to pleasure you with her fingers, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. You gripped the duvet, your body trembling as you rode the wave of sensation. You cried out, clutching at her hand, as you reached the peak, your body convulsing with release.

As you slowly came down, Billie leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. "You feel so good," she murmured.

Later, wrapped in each other’s arms, you both fell asleep, exhausted but content.

The next morning, the villa was in an uproar. The cameras had caught enough to suggest something had happened in the hideaway, and the other contestants were buzzing with speculation. But nothing could have prepared you for the reaction back home.

Soon enough, the internet exploded and the world was being told by television channels that Billie Eilish was a lesbian. Your mom FaceTimed you from her couch, her eyes wide with excitement. "Y/N! Honey! You and Billie Eilish? On national television?"

Your dad, usually stoic, was grinning from ear to ear. "Your Aunt Carol is losing her mind! She's been a Billie fan for years!"

Your little sister sent you a string of frantic texts, filled with heart-eye emojis and demands for insider information.

Even Maggie and Patrick, Billie's parents, caught wind of the commotion and sent you both supportive texts. They didn't say much aside from "We hope you both have fun!" and "Don't let the cameras get to you!".

The online reaction was a mixed bag, of course. There were the expected cries of outrage, the homophobic slurs, the accusations of "doing it for the cameras." But overwhelmingly, the response was positive. People were thrilled to see Billie, an icon of individuality, find a connection with someone as real as you seemed to be.

Back in the villa, the manufactured drama of Love Island felt even more absurd. You and Billie had found something genuine, something real, amidst the fake tans and forced conversations. And you knew, regardless of how the show ended, that this connection was something worth holding onto, long after the cameras stopped rolling.

[kirain]

Part three of my appreciation project.

@vonspe A fic based on their wonderful art piece here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

The apothecary was a sanctuary of green and gold, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stuffed with tinctures, bundles of dried herbs, and neatly labelled vials of elixirs; some deadly, some curative. At the far end of the room, a miniature garden flourished—a medley of potted elfroot, spindleweed, and other rare plants that Scipio and Emmrich had nurtured together, their leaves bright and fragrant.

Amidst it all, Grandma lay curled on the stone slab in the middle of the room, her sleek grey fur catching the light. She dozed on the cool surface, her tail tucked over her nose, the only sign of wakefulness the occasional twitch of her ears—before they perked up like daggers.

Footsteps, hurried and heavy, thundered from the hall outside, drawing her gaze. The stomp of boots grew louder—closer—until the door burst open, smashing against the wall so hard it nearly splintered. Startled, the cat dove under a nearby chair, her eyes wide and beaming as Emmrich stumbled inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Scipio across the floor.

The elf's weight sagged against him, his hand pointlessly clutching his side. Blood soaked through his gloves, hot and slick, leaking through his fingers. His right eye, bruised and bloodshot, was swollen shut, slashed from eyebrow to forehead, the blue of his iris fading.

"Nearly there!" Emmrich yelled, to himself as much as his lover. "Hold on, darling!"

Grandma mewled from her hiding spot, ears pinned back as she took in the sight of her owner—pale, barely conscious, barely breathing. Her nose twitched at the metallic tang trailing behind them.

Stowing his own fear, Emmrich tightened his grip around Scipio's waist and hoisted him onto the large slab Grandma had abandoned. "That's it, darling. Lift your legs," he begged, though Scipio didn't respond.

His body was too limp. Too cold.

Emmrich gritted his teeth, wishing someone—anyone—had been awake to help him, but time was precious. He couldn't stop nor leave Scipio alone when he was bleeding so profusely. It had taken everything just to get him back to the eluvian after the attack.

"Just a little higher, darling. You can do it."

Emmrich's heart clenched as he perished the thought, unwilling to rive his focus.

One moment, they were sat by a crystal lake, lost in each other's company, sharing a rich wine in the moonlight. The next, the Venatori descended—a horde of them, tearing through the quiet and shattering their peace in an instant.

Yet, Emmrich managed.

With urgent but careful hands, he eased Scipio onto his back, as gently as possible. The elf groaned as his body sprawled out over the marble, the sound raw with pain. Then, his head lolled to the side.

"Stay with me!" Emmrich shrieked, but the younger man had already slipped away.

Silence.

With a frantic gasp, Emmrich ripped the soaked fabric of Scipio's shirt to expose the gaping wound beneath—a deep, ugly gash along his ribs, still oozing like a freshly sliced ham. The blood pooled in the cracks beneath him, dark and glistening against the stone.

He'd been run through almost entirely.

"I won't let you die," Emmrich vowed, his voice welling with determination.

He knew the risk, but he placed his hand over the wound without any hesitation.

Swiftly, a massive green light flared from his palm, tendrils of magic sinking into the torn flesh. The wound drank greedily, knitting together like strands of rope, but the spell pulled just as greedily from him in return. The room blurred. His breath hitched. Sweat sheened along his brow, the process demanding more than he could give.

But stopping wasn't an option. Not when Scipio's life dangled at the edge of the Veil.

When the spell finally broke, when he truly had nothing left to offer, the ailing mage nearly collapsed, his head swimming, his legs trembling beneath him—but again, he couldn't stop. The wound was still there, still pulsing, still angry, just no longer fatal. Ribs no longer broken. Organs no longer punctured. He had been lucky.

They had been lucky.

Now fighting to breathe, panting terribly, Emmrich pushed himself upright and staggered to the garden, reaching for a meaty stalk of elfroot. As he snapped the stem, letting the thick, sticky sap gush from the tear, he slammed his fist against the wall, the mild pain anchoring him in the moment. He was dizzy, deteriorating fast, but he made it back to Scipio and squeezed the fluid into his wound.

"Ugh..." the elf sobbed, his body flinching from the sting.

"I know, love. I know," Emmrich wheezed. "I'm sorry."

His hands tingled, his muscles ached, but still he couldn't rest. Driven by his last dregs of adrenaline, he retrieved a kit from his desk, pulling out a needle, thread, and a roll of linen. As he sterilised the needle, an inescapable guilt took hold, churning in his already feeble stomach.

"I'll be quick, darling. I promise."

The needle bit into Scipio's tender skin, piercing over and over, the thread weaving through the ragged edges of his flesh. Despite Emmrich's precision and diligence, the poor elf wailed, his body writhing with each pull, every stitch an agony for both of them.

Until only one step remained.

Though shaking with exhaustion, Emmrich achieved the impossible: wrapping Scipio's torso with the roll of bandages. Tilting him cautiously, he bore his weight with one arm while tending to his wound with the other, each motion a trial of endurance. Moving in any way had become excruciating, his body screaming for even the briefest respite. Yet, he overcame it.

He had to, for Scipio.

Then, as if fate had been waiting, right as the last knot scrunched taut, his strength drained completely.

The world spun, his limbs leaden. He barely made it to the chair before collapsing, his chest heaving, his head dropping back against the rail. He had used too much magic, spent too much of himself. He should have paced it—he knew that—but the thought of losing Scipio was unbearable.

A small whimper chimed beneath him, and Grandma crawled out from under his legs, peering up at him with a tentative sniff. As if sensing his distress, she hopped into his lap and rubbed her head against his waistcoat.

"Good girl," Emmrich lisped, his voice faint. "Good..."

A single breath.

Then another.

His vision darkened.

And then—nothing.

-----

Scipio woke to the sharp intrusion of sunlight and the slow, insistent throb in his side—sore but bearable. His lashes fluttered as he adjusted to the brightness, his breath catching at the familiar sight above him; sheaves of herbs hanging from the ceiling. He knew this place.

The apothecary.

"Emmrich?" he winced, his voice frail.

Memory hit like a tide. The ambush. The Venatori. Emmrich's horrified gaze when the blade thrust into his body.

He had no recollection after that.

"Mi amore, where are y—?"

As Scipio turned his head, he found him. Emmrich. Slumped in a chair beside him, motionless as the grave. Grandma purred in his lap, happy and healthy, but Emmrich looked awful. His coat was gone, his shirt disheveled, and his hair, normally slicked back and flawless, was a loose mess against his forehead. Even in sleep, weariness haunted his features, his body slack with exhaustion.

A fresh wave of guilt tugged at Scipio's heart, pressing down on him like a curse. He recognised the telltale signs—the stiffness in Emmrich's limbs, the flush colour of his face. He had drained himself healing him. Again.

Scipio tried to speak, to call his name once more, but before the words could form, a soft rasp broke the silence, followed by a warm, wet graze on his cheek.

At some point, while trapped in his rueful stupor, Grandma had nestled beside his head, her rough little tongue flicking up and down, cleaning her owner's sweat. A quiet chuckle rumbled in Scipio's throat, the gesture a fleeting balm to his guilt.

"Were you worried about me, cara?" His fingers found their way to the soft spot behind her ear, coaxing a pleased trill from her chest. "Yet you spent the whole night with Emmrich. Traitor."

The cat gave him an unimpressed meow before leaping down, her tiny paws padding against the floor as she skittered away.

Scipio snickered, then braced himself as he forced his body upright, grunting hoarsely. The wound at his side protested, though less painful and more a vexing reminder of how close he had come to losing everything.

His gaze softened as it returned to Emmrich. He'd been in that chair for hours, his neck awkwardly angled, his hands hanging over the armrests; the leather pressing into his wrists. It couldn't be comfortable, and Scipio knew that feeling all too well. He didn't want to wake him, but he couldn't leave him in that harmful position.

With quiet reverence, he reached out, resting his hand on Emmrich's cheek—an unspoken apology. And as if sensing that single touch from the depths of his subconscious, Emmrich's eyes snapped open, wild with alarm. The moment they landed on Scipio, he shot up, taking the younger man's face in his numb, ice-cold hands.

"Darling!" he cried, ignoring the twinge in his joints. "You... you shouldn't be up," he muttered, his voice wracked with concern. "You should be resting."

"So should you," Scipio replied smoothly. Emmrich paused, and the elf smirked at the hesitation. "I could take you to bed, if you like."

Emmrich's brow furrowed, relieved but irritated. "I'm perfectly serious. You have no idea how close you came to—!"

His eyes widened, his gaze landing on Scipio's bloodshot eye, the bruise, the scrape on his forehead. He'd passed out before he had a chance to heal those injuries.

A mistake he intended to rectify.

"Oh, darling. Hold still," he said, his gloved hand moving to cup the elf's chin. "How did I miss this? It must be bothering you."

"Emmrich, you need time to recover," Scipio argued, but the mage shook his head.

"I'm well enough for this."

Slowly, his fingers traced over the battered skin, the warmth of his magic seeping into the damaged tissue. Before long, that familiar green light shined beneath his touch, mending the torn vessels with a care so intimate, it made Scipio shudder.

The spell was thorough, but Emmrich’s fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if memorising every healed inch before pulling away.

"There," he whispered. "How does that feel?"

Scipio blinked, the blur he'd been too proud to complain about now an echo of the past. "Thank you," he smiled. "That eye's been through enough horse shit, don't you think?"

Emmrich chuckled, his eyes fixed on the dilated pupil he'd always considered beautiful. But as his gaze drifted downwards, to the bandages wrapped snug around Scipio's chest, something inside him cracked, and a small whimper escaped his lips before he could swallow it.

"Amore?" Scipio hushed, grasping his hand. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Emmrich looked away, their fingers lacing together. It took him a while to answer, seemingly ashamed to speak, but Scipio was patient. Not demanding, but compelling.

"I nearly lost you," he eventually choked, his voice tight.

Scipio frowned, but only for a moment. "Impossible," he quipped. "No Venatori could ever kill me."

Emmrich scoffed, both exasperated and amused. "Your arrogance will be the death of you someday."

"But I'm fine!" Scipio shouted, slapping his side. "See? It doesn't even hurt."

Emmrich's shoulders hunched, his expression nettled. "Your wound is on the right side, darling."

Scipio tilted his head, playfully. "Is it?"

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Really?"

"All right, I'll prove it to you."

He shifted to rise, but as he did so, Emmrich's hands immediately shot out, pinning him to the slab. "Stop. You're not going anywhere."

"Why not?" he asked, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious.

Emmrich groaned. He knew Scipio hated feeling useless, his mind and body restless when he wasn't working or fighting, but now wasn't the time for his stubbornness. He needed an excuse, and he settled on, "Because your sisters would kill me!"

A beat of silence. Then, Scipio threw his head back with a hardy laugh, the tinge in his side not enough to dampen his spirit.

"Fair enough," he conceded.

Emmrich smiled, but the worry hadn't fully waned, and Scipio could see it.

"Forgive me, mi amore. You must have been so scared."

"No, no. It's not your fault. Those damn Venatori..."

Scipio pulled Emmrich closer, bringing his hand to his chest. "I'm here, mi amore. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you really all right?" Emmrich asked, uncertain.

"I am," Scipio sighed, his eyes gleaming with adoration. "Thanks to you."

"Darling..."

Riled by the praise, emotion swelled in Emmrich's chest, too overwhelming to resist. He needed to feel him, to prove that Scipio was still with him—still alive, still breathing. Suddenly, he leaned in, one hand cradling the back of Scipio's head, the other sliding possessively over his thigh.

"What is it?" Scipio asked, confused. "Is it my eye? I don't feel any—"

His words dissolved into a muffled moan as Emmrich captured his lips, grateful and longing. The kiss was searing, fervent—a desperate reclaiming of the night they'd lost—and Scipio melted into it. His fingers curled into Emmrich's shirt, yanking him closer, deepening the embrace with equal fervour.

As Scipio invited him in, their tongues met, tentative at first, then with more passion. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, indulgent and unrelenting, their movements fluid and seamless. This was familiar.

This was home.

When Emmrich pulled away, it was only because he spotted a thin cut under Scipio's jaw—a harmless nick hidden from view. With a lustful grin, he dipped closer, pressing his lips to the dried blood. As before, a green light flared around them as the cut vanished beneath his kiss, the warm breeze threading through Scipio's hair.

And he didn't stop there.

The elf gasped as Emmrich's mouth travelled lower, brushing along his neck—then lower still, kissing and nipping at the dips and hollows of his collarbone—then lower still, down to his exposed chest, his tongue exploring the crease between his ribs. He avoided the bandages, mindful of Scipio's wound, his free hand delicately kneading every unharmed muscle.

"Amore..." Scipio huffed, arching back ever so slightly

"More?" Emmrich murmured against his skin.

"Always."

Emmrich obliged, his other hand rubbing the inside of Scipio's thigh; a slow, deliberate stroke meant to unravel him—and it did. As the elf relaxed, Emmrich stepped between his legs, their heat mingling as his lips trailed back up to devour his mouth once more. Hungry, but eloquent.

When they parted, Scipio's breath frayed, his face burning, but his grin was nothing short of wicked. "I think I need a full-body examination," he said boldly.

"Oh?" Emmrich smirked. "That can be arranged, my dear."

As he climbed onto the slab, helping Scipio straddle his hips, a small chirp sounded from across the room. Grandma sat near the window, her tail flicking, her blue eyes heavy with unmistakable judgment. With a hiss, she turned and leapt over the sill, disappearing into the trees below.

"Even your cat is tired of your antics," Emmrich chuckled.

Scipio laughed, bending down for another kiss. "Then it's a good thing you never tire of them."

"Just don't overexert yourself," Emmrich warned, his fingers skimming over the bandages. "You're still hurt."

"I could say the same to you. I can tell you're still very weak."

"Then I guess we'll both have to be gentle with each other," Emmrich teased.

Scipio grinned, his lips brushing against Emmrich's ear. "Vedremo."

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hii do u have any headcannons for reader being Baji's little sister and Mikey having a huge crush on her, but Baji is like suuuper protective of her and refuses anyone from the gang to date her because him being her brother is already dangerous as is, I hope this ask isn't too complicated 😅

Ok I set this in the good timeline and there's also two endings. We have the sfw ending which is with all the other hc's and we have the nsfw ending which is clearly labelled at the end. You guys can choose which ending you want to read (the bullet point with the star is where you should switch if you only want the nsfw ending).

Baji is very very vocal about the rules around his little sister, makes it very clear to all the guys that you're off limits and "too good for all of them anyway".

Unfortunately for Baji though, he's keeping an eye on the wrong ex gang members. He eyes the way Hakkai blushes to you, chases Kazutora and Hanma for saying they plan on dating you (they're actually just teasing Baji), raises his eyebrow at how friendly Chifuyu is with you and yells at the Haitani's for trying their pick up lines on you. The point is Baji is so distracted by the others that he never sees Mikey coming until it's too late. 

Mikey starts off simple, just getting you alone one day and asking you what you really thought about your brother's "rules". And as he watches you giggle and call Baji caring but too overprotective, he thinks he falls even more in love. 

And so operation "make y/n fall in love with Mikey" begins. Of course Mikey assembles a mini team for this. Including Draken (he think this is an awful idea and Baji will kill them all), Emma (she thinks the two of you will be cute together), Takemichi (he is very scared of the consequences of doing this), Sanzu (anything for Mikey) and Kisaki (has no idea why he's here and thinks this is a waste of time). Of course these meetings don't do much but Mikey does get some advice.

You start getting mini anonymous presents daily, always pretty or thoughtful things, the card is always just signed with a heart. (Baji is very concerned when he finds out).

Mikey also comes up with elaborate plans to get you alone so the two of you can hang out and get to know each other more. These mostly involve distracting Baji in some way, either by telling someone to hang out with him or by telling him a cat needs his help a few miles away. Baji falls for it everytime, rushing off and leaving you alone. 

He's very touchy with you whenever the two of you are together. He'll happily hold your hand, hug you and lean his head on your shoulder if he gets tired.

Also loves to take you for rides on his bike, Baji barely ever let's you ride with him because of the risk so Mikey figures it's up to him to show you how much fun it is (the feeling of you clinging to him is great too). 

Mikey really likes hanging out with you and get's a little sad whenever it ends but he can't risk Baji seeing this, not yet.

He takes you to the sea often too, sharing a taiyaki with you and talking about anything that comes to mind. It's here that he finally confesses to you and here where the two of you share your first kiss after you confess back to him too. 

You two become experts at secret dates and secret looks at each other. 

Even in front of Baji the two of you find ways to flirt and be affectionate with each other. Mikey whispering you a compliment as he walks past you. You telling Mikey he dropped something but when he picks up the paper it's just a note from you telling him how much you miss him during these big gatherings. Baji never even suspects anything at all.

It is a little difficult hiding your relationship at times but the two of you feel like you could do this forever but of course nothing can last forever.

☆It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

The two of you had just settled down to watch a movie, happily sharing a blanket and cuddling when Baji walked in. Turns out the trip had been cancelled but that's nothing compared to the chaos that was about to go down.

Baji stands there for a moment, staring in disbelief at his oldest friend and his baby sister together. You and Mikey stare back in shock, no one daring to move until Baji opens his mouth to start yelling or talking. You're not sure what he was about to say because before he could get even a word out Mikey launched a pillow at his face, giving himself a head start to start running.

Baji very quickly shot out of the apartment after Mikey all while yelling "MY SISTER!!!!" You watch them for a moment before sighing and calling Draken. Before then calling Ryoko, if anyone could talk sense into your brother it was definitely your mother. 

After Draken (and Mitsuya, who he brought along as backup) separated them and Baji got yelled at down the phone by Ryoko a truce was made. You and Mikey could date and Baji wouldn't kill him if you kept all of that relationship stuff away from him and out of sight. It was a lot better then either you or Mikey had expected (largely thanks to Ryoko) so you both happily agreed. Holding hands and walking off together to Mikey's apartment this time (all while Baji yelled about how holding hands counts as "relationship stuff"). 

Nsfw ending

It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

Eager to see and feel each other, things got steamy very quickly. Mikey was just in the middle of thrusting into you, in and out, getting lost in the warm, velvety feeling of your walls. While you were letting small moans and whimpers slip as Mikey went deeper, hitting your spot and making you see stars everytime. Both of you were so close and lost in each other that neither of you heard the key in the door or the door swing open. You moaned as it finally became all too much and you came, the feeling pushing Mikey over the edge with a groan as he releases his thick load into you. Neither you get to enjoy it for long though as Baji announces his presence with a dangerous growl.

Mikey frantically tries to cover you before putting his clothes on in record time and racing out of the door with Baji quickly pursuing him. All while he yells "MY SISTER!???? AND ON MY SOFA!?????" 

Putting some clothes on and cleaning up the mess as quick as you can, you frantically run after them. Who knows what Baji will do to Mikey after seeing that, whatever it is you need to stop it.

You think you're getting close as you hear raised voices but suddenly your wrist is being grabbed and some strang man is holding you still.

"Hey I recognise you! You're Baji Keisuke's sister, yeah. That fucker beat me up years ago, made me lose my gang and my reputation, I've always wanted to make him pay..."

You only see the knife for a second before it's being kicked out of the guys hands and you're being pulled away. Baji holds you in his arms, both of you needing that comfort while Mikey knocks the guy out. They worked together to save you and without knowing it, Mikey proved he's more then capable of keeping you safe. 

He's still a little reluctant but Baji gives you his blessing, after muttering about needing to bleach his eyes out. 

[bbuzz28]

this thought immediately came to mind when I read this idea (and it maybe gets away from the point a lil bit, ((apologies)) ):

For his first thunderstorm at the Shack, Stan Pines slept in the bathtub.

He's experienced all kinds of weather over the years- the sticky humidity of a Tijuanna winter, ice storms that could freeze rats solid on a New York City fire escape, fog banks that cover the road so thick that you can barely see a foot in front of you (or whatever the hell an elk was) in Washington State.

Technically speaking, a thunderstorm should have been comforting-he remembered many a summer night running home from the beach in the rain with Ford- and yet...

He can hear every pane of glass in every single window in the house shake. He runs around and taped them in place just like they used to do during hurricane season, and yet the noise still follows him wherever he goes in the Shack. Why did Ford have to build a house with so many fucking windows? The noise is overwhelming and there unfortunately isn't anything else he can do but wait the storm out.

He considers going underground to the lab-he wouldn't be able to hear anything there. He still hadn't worked out how the electricity worked in the lab (though it luckily didn't seem to be attached to the electric bill)-he was pretty sure it had its own generator, but this would be a hell of a day to test that theory if he ended up without power and stuck in that dreary place.

Instead, he turns off the lights and draws back the flimsy shower curtain around the tub-shoving a pillow on the opposite side from the spigot. He'd rather face the opposite way to keep an eye on the door even if it was locked, but the last time he slept in here he ended up cracking his head on the damn thing. He had enough going on in his life without giving himself a concussion.

As he lay in the dark, he tried to remember the last time he felt this unnerved by a storm and his mind took a walk back to Glass Shard Beach, 1960-something. His father was away for the weekend with the fellas from The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel and Shermie was staying overnight at a friend's house- leaving just Ford, his mother and the cat at home.

They laid three to a bed in his parent's big bed, listening to the windows shake and the wind howl. As his mother's cat clung to her head, Stan considered joining it as another thunderclap shook the upstairs apartment. What if the storm blew all the windows in? What if the bay flooded? What would happen if water got into his father's shop? He remembered his mother pulled him and Ford closer to her in the bed, Stan flush against her and his brother against him, shushing any worries. She told them she knew exactly how far away the storm really was-and not just because she was a psychic.

Now in the slightly damp tub, too many years later, Stan tried to count how many seconds fell between the flash of light and the sound of thunder just as his mother taught them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven-CRACK! He turned to face the rim of the tub, gently placing Ford's glasses from his pocket along the edge and stared at them. He shouldn't have them, but at the last second he had grabbed them off his brother's old chest of drawers-as if the inanimate object could provide any sense of company.

The curve of the tub, though colder than his mother ever was, held him as comfortably as the El Diablo ever had. He had spent more nights than not in her worn leather seats, blocking out the outside world with the pieces of cardboard he had perfectly traced to fit each of her windows. The tub was like that; he felt better being enclosed, waiting for the next flash of lightning.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten- CRACK! Okay, the storm was moving at least-was it two miles away now? Isn't that how the math worked? He remembered vaguely how his brother exclaimed that his mother's trick was just math at the end of the day. At least if Stan was distracted by the numbers bouncing around in his head, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. Like how he wished Ford was here, since it wouldn't take him half as long to count or do fourth grade math in his head- he would just know.

He stretched a leg out and kicked the faucet, wincing as he went over the numbers one more time, certain he was right. He felt a little silly-he was a grown man. A grown man with a bed. That's where men were supposed to sleep, not cars or park benches and certainly not bathtubs. His father surely never slept in a bathtub. He wonders if Ford ever did-maybe after a drunken college night with that blonde guy in the photos he had found the other week.

One, two, three, four, five- CRACK! It didn't matter-no one was here to judge him. Now that the storm was certainly overhead it didn't feel quite as lonely as it normally felt in that big open bed. It was nothing like his car, nor his (at this point if it still existed, much too tiny) bunk bed back in New Jersey. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the open space-but he supposed as long as he lived here he could always just set up an unofficial camp.

Stan concentrated on the curve of the tub and how it held him, imagining he was far, far away. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep; hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't dream, but if he did it would be of home.

Stanley having trouble sleeping in an actual bed so he sleeps in a tub because it's cramped...like his car.

[nerdsnuff]

hello!! not sure if you're taking requests but if you are could we possibly get mark boyfriend headcanons?

🐊 MARK BERSKII BOYFRIEND HC’S

MY FIRST REQUEST OHMY GOD GUYYYSSSSS YHANK YOU SO MUCH OFC ILL TAKE IT HERE U GO I HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE I LOVE MARK MY INDONESIAN KING anyway diana/mark friendship mentionedddd :P sorry took long </3

cw for descriptions of smoking.

𓆊 before dating and before getting close, you bet he was shy as as fuck. probably ran away from you a lot (not too literally, but would shy away from long conversations) and always be visibly red with how pale he is

𓆊 during the confession, he was so nervous that you got nervous too. he was a stuttering mess

“i uh—okay…” he mumbles something you can’t hear. you attempt to listen closely as he mumbles something. “look… i like you alright… it’s fine if you don’t like me back i just thought it’d be a good time to tell you…”

𓆊 anyway, with a lot of convincing you two date. THUMBS UP. HOORAY. he was super shy in the beginning it took awhile for him to comfortably do a lot. but he always tried to be affectionate. imagine shy hand holding! where he starts off by slowly intertwining your fingers before fully wrapping around yours.

𓆊 if you smoke, oh you KNOW he’d do it with you. he’ll share his cigarettes with you (only a few though) and do that romantic thing where he lights your cig with his.

he leans leans closer to you, cigarettes being the only thing keeping your faces apart. without a word he puts his cigarette against yours. you inhale, the sound of burning paper crackling very lowly between the two of you. once lit, he pulls away, swiping the cigarette off his mouth as he blows out smoke. the exchange was silent, and you simply admire your boyfriend with a slight blush on your cheeks, noticing how nice he looks. though you got so distracted that you almost forget to exhale too.

𓆊 if you don’t smoke that’s fine, but he’ll still smoke in front of you so you’ll smell like cigs after every hangout with him lol! just so you know, he would NOT smoke around you if you’re uncomfortable or can’t handle it. he may have an addiction but he is respectful!!!! either way yes you should bring perfume btw especially if you live with people who wouldn’t be cool with the smell of smoke.

you grimace as he blows smoke onto your face, giggling afterwards despite your sour face. “hahah, sorry. you bought perfume right?” you let him know you did, and he smiles. “okay, good”

𓆊 he loves sharing things… he’ll share his beanie, he’ll share his jackets, he’ll share his cigs and lighters, he’ll share his ear/headphones. you could say it’s a love language.

“don’t listen to diana. i don’t have lice, she’s lying!” you couldn’t help but laugh as he grumbles and protests, trying to get you to wear his beloved gator beanie. of course you don’t believe her, it’s just fun to mess with him. you then mention his oily hair, backing up your excuse as to why you still don’t wanna wear it. he rolls his eyes. “come on, if you have such a problem with it then maybe you should just… wash it for me or something” he suggests bashfully.

𓆊 won’t ask, but he needs reassurance once awhile. you’ll notice him looking down sometimes, drooped eyes more droopier and sadder than usual; that’s when you know you’ll need to say some sweet words to him. it helps, even if he doesn’t show it. it’s nice to know you’re there for him when he needs a shoulder.

𓆊 he has the sweetest cat, who loves you too. you always come home from his house littered in white cat fur even if you dust yourself off before leaving, haha. it’s suggested to not wear black when coming over.

𓆊 sometimes (a lot of times) gets jealous of his cat LOLLLL but only when you give her more attention than him

mark breaks the silence between the two of you with a grumble, snapping your attention away from his cat. politely, he pulls his cat away from your grasp and set her on the floor. once she walks away mark turns back to face you with full attention, the same amount you’re now giving him instead of his furry companion. he doesn’t spare a moment to speak before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his hot breath tickles you as he mumbles, “you’ve been paying more attention to my cat than me. so now that she moved it’s my turn. unless you only came over to see her…”

𓆊 absolutely yes to cat cafe dates. DUH! he likes how peaceful they are, and he’s surrounded by some of the things he loves most, you and cats.

𓆊 after dating long enough, he gifted you a gag gift of those rollers used to remove animal fur from your clothes. you always bring it when you come over and you never forget cause he’s always there to remind you to bring it.

𓆊 has tried to make some beats for you once and you loved it obviously. he tried to match it to your music taste so you’d like it more.

𓆊 you guys would absolutely share songs tastes and he’ll absolutely judge you (LIGHTHEARTEDLY AND JOKINGLY) if he thinks something you shared is bad.

[lunaetis]

@caemthe asked :

[ jiyan, for yangyang ] A cat, on a tree so tall that the general wouldn’t be surprised if it was found out that it said it had been around since the first Lament. Impressive truly, but now it posed a threat to the safety of the kitten trapped at the top. He stepped back as he looked up, finally spotting the poor pet. “How should we proceed? It wasn’t too fond of the fish I offered earlier.”

unprompted. || always accepting

─「秧秧」─  it was almost impressive how a creature so small could get itself up upon a tree that tall all by itself. even before she could hear the sounds of it meowing for attention and assistance, YANGYANG was able to sense the emotions that came from the smallest of movement as the tree barely moved with the winds. the general had fetched a delicious looking fish in order to lure it down, however, the feline still wouldn't budge. was there something else that caused it to stay up there despite how dangerous it was ?

                quietly, she reached out her hand and closed her eyes to feel the winds, allowing the flow of the air current to pass through her gloved digits. she heard everything, the rustle of every single leaves, the way the sands and dirt moved underneath their feet, the scent and noises carried with the breeze, and a sign of distress coming from the small creature up and above them.

                " it must've been scared of the tacet discords suddenly appearing in the area. " both of them had already dealt with that, but the air itself was still unstable from the recent fight. perhaps that was why the cat refused to come down. she had to make sure there were no other external stimulants to make it go into fight or flight mode. her silver hues finally opened, and she turned to the taller male.

                " i'd like to try something. general, could you please hold out your hands and arms for me ? " that was all she gave him, and only when he had decided to comply that the winds around them slowly stilled, like the air was MUTED and with a wave of her gloved digits, a soft current whipped the small creature from where it was and carefully carrying it down onto his awaiting arms. he would be able to feel how warm the breeze was, how gentle it enveloped around the small feline like soft cushion. a smile then curved her lips at the successful attempt especially when the said kitty was nuzzling into his strong hold. a tender giggle escaped her.

                " she seems to be fond of you now. maybe she could smell that fish on you ? "

[jessiesjaded]

I really, really wish people who don't have the capacity to properly take care of animals would simply accept and acknowledge that about themselves. This isn't even a post of me trying to be mean or judge anyone, I'm sure most people go into getting an animal with good intentions, but intentions and actions are different. If you don't have the time and the space and the care an animal needs, the animal will suffer. The fleeting joy of having a kitten or puppy or anything else doesn't last forever and they aren't toys to be put down and forgotten once you've moved past the inital excitement. If you don't have the ability to properly care for an animal, just accept that and simply admire them from a distance.

[intersexwiki]

Copying everything under the cut for archival.

The invocation of the myth of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis made a lot of us uncomfortable. [CW sexual violence] For those unfamiliar, the myth involves a nymph, Salmacis, who lusts after the teenage Hermaphroditus. She sexually assaults him repeatedly, and prays to the gods that they should never part. Her wish was granted and their bodies were merged together into one body with both sexes. [/CW]

We talked about better options for finding intersex representation in art history, such as in statues or art of congenital eunuchs. There are a number of congenital eunuchs from history that have extant statues, e.g. Isidore of Seville. There are also many mythological entities described as both/neither male/female, e.g. Agdistis (Greek/Roman), Ardhanarishvara (Indian), Inari Ōkami (Japanese).  Michelle pointed out the potential for playing with how the sun is gendered across different cultures (since Helios). Overall, we agreed there were other options for art references and that the book would have been better of picking an option that didn’t depict sexual assault.

The casualness of Helios being intersex got mixed reactions. The intersex representation is really only in one scene. JR liked it was casual. However, everybody (JR included) agreed that if this one scene were skipped or missing there would be nothing else to indicate that Helios is intersex.

We felt the author did a decent job of the disability representation, such as in how Icarus’ cat burglary is affected by having EDS. We agreed it would have been stronger if there had been a parallel with Helios being intersex and doing ballet. Another opportunity for intersex themes would have been to set Mr Black as beating Helios to “man him up” or “keep him in line” in terms of gender performance and being intersex.

JR was curious how the publisher/etc were trying to market the book since it didn’t seem #ownvoices (“is it trying to be mainstream?”). Elizabeth shared that ze has usually seen it promoted on social media as “queer YA”.

What we liked

The prose. As Michelle put it: “The descriptions are so pretty I got shivers… The theming was also well done…  the descriptions of the world were really painterly in a way that was really pleasing.”

The book was emotionally impactful. We all appreciated that a queer romance that didn’t end in tragedy, even if it seemed like that what was being set up! Michelle shared: “there were a few things that were crying buttons for me. One was religious affirmation of queerness. I wouldn't say I have a lot of trauma from being raised Catholic but this still made me cry. Parental affirmation of queerness also!”

Themes of fatherhood (e.g. Icarus talking about what he would do differently, father as minotaur) and toxic masculinity (e.g. Akeem & Luca averse to crying)

The disability representation. Michelle praised the neurodivergent & touch starvation portrayal.

What we struggled with

We agreed all the book ended abruptly. Elizabeth wanted more denouement. JR agreed but pointed out this is a general trend in writing. We all agreed we wanted a better sense of whether things worked out for our protagonists.

We were confused about Icarus getting a job in Paris out of nowhere, and the brief mentions of legal proceedings were confusing.

Elizabeth and JR thought Icarus was too emotionally mature sometimes. Elizabeth thought that Icarus’ “I wish I could hate you” discussion with his father was too emotionally mature for his age, and JR felt his social navigating (manipulating?) felt too savvy. Michelle found it hard to relate.

Mixed reactions

Elizabeth struggled with the setup of the school friends: the exposition was too much all at once. But this worked for Michelle!

Michelle found the dialogue to be very cute. It worked for xer, but warned that there are people who will find it excruciating.

Ancient Greek Mythology

The book draws heavily on 18th century Northern European interpretations of Ancient Greek mythology. Michelle is a fan of Ancient Greek mythology and “there were a lot of little references that I got”. JR wished they knew more of the mythology.

Michelle asked Elizabeth (who is Greek-Canadian) if the mythology connected, and ze said not really. We then got into a discussion about how in recent centuries Northern Europeans reinterpreted Greek mythology for white supremacist ends, and how there are many gaps between what the Anglosphere thinks of as “Greek” vs actual Greek people & culture.

Elizabeth didn’t come into the book discussion planning to get into the politics of how Ancient Greek mythology is interpreted and used! For the summary, ze wants to clarify that this book was par for the course on how Anglosphere authors invoke “Greek” mythology - the meta-discussion we had was not a criticism of Ancrum but of a general sociocultural phenomenon, and it did not reduce Elizabeth’s enjoyment of the book.

What we compared this book to

It reminded JR of Across the Green Grass Fields in that intersex variation is introduced and then doesn't matter again.

It reminded Elizabeth of Queen in that the intersex rep wasn't what you’d expect for #ownvoices

Michelle brought up how intersex representation so frequently feels slapped on and Bogi Takács is a rare exception. We then talked about Power to Yield, how it’s hard for authors to walk the line between intersex rep & having it being all about trauma, but that Power to Yield pulls it off.

Michelle saw the book as “very John Green meets Madelline Miller”

JR was glad this wasn’t another Middlesex!

Overall, we collectively enjoyed the book! 😀 We recommend you pick it up as a solid piece of YA fiction and to support an intersex author. We wouldn’t recommend it as a great example of intersex representation, and were disappointed by that part. 🫤 We all hoped that Ancrum will develop more confidence and knowledge about intersex issues and do better in future books! Everybody left the call wanting to read more by her. 👍️

Book review: Icarus (2024)

We met on 2024-05-31 to talk about Icarus, the newest book by intersex author K. Ancrum! 

Overall takes:

Michelle: Loved it. Finished the book in one sitting. Xer wife was like “aren't you supposed to be going to sleep?” and xe was like “BOOK TOO GOOD” 🤩

Elizabeth: Mixed feelings. It was an engaging and compelling read, but I found some parts confusing and the ending too abrupt. The intersex representation left a bad taste in my mouth. I liked the disability rep though. 🤔

JR: I read a lot of queer books but not a lot of intersex ones because there aren't that many and this was one of the top ones I read this year. While it was set at a high school it felt New Adult rather than YA. Sometimes with YA it can feel really simplistic and this didn't do that! 👍️

Bnuuy: didn’t get to read it but after the discussion I now want to! 😯

Intersex representation

The consensus was that this book stumbled when it came to intersex representation. We speculated that Ancrum may be new to thinking of herself as intersex: it felt to us that she was uncomfortable writing about intersex.

The protagonist’s love interest, Helios, is portrayed rather briefly as intersex. But the specific intersex variation is not disclosed. It struck us as unrealistic that a teenager would out themself in the way that Helios did: saying he is intersex and not the specific variation. Those of us who knew we had intersex diagnoses as teenagers understood ourselves as having that specific diagnosis and not so much as being intersex. We’d expect an intersex teenager to lead with the diagnosis and to explain what that diagnosis is.

Based on book descriptions we guessed that Helios has Klinefelter’s but we weren’t certain. We did appreciate that there wasn’t an excessive focus on genital difference, and that there was discussion of secondary sex characteristics, which is a good start!

The biggest cringe moment for us was in how Icarus compared Helios to the statue of Hermaphroditus in Warsaw. It’s kind of literally objectifying to compare someone to a work of art. We all found it rather gross to compare your lover to a statue depicting sexual violence. 😬 

The invocation of the myth of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis made a lot of us uncomfortable. [CW sexual violence] For those unfamiliar, the myth involves a nymph, Salmacis, who lusts after the teenage Hermaphroditus. She sexually assaults him repeatedly, and prays to the gods that they should never part. Her wish was granted and their bodies were merged together into one body with both sexes. [/CW]

We talked about better options for finding intersex representation in art history, such as in statues or art of congenital eunuchs. There are a number of congenital eunuchs from history that have extant statues, e.g. Isidore of Seville. There are also many mythological entities described as both/neither male/female, e.g. Agdistis (Greek/Roman), Ardhanarishvara (Indian), Inari Ōkami (Japanese).  Michelle pointed out the potential for playing with how the sun is gendered across different cultures (since Helios). Overall, we agreed there were other options for art references and that the book would have been better of picking an option that didn’t depict sexual assault.

The casualness of Helios being intersex got mixed reactions. The intersex representation is really only in one scene. JR liked it was casual. However, everybody (JR included) agreed that if this one scene were skipped or missing there would be nothing else to indicate that Helios is intersex.

We felt the author did a decent job of the disability representation, such as in how Icarus’ cat burglary is affected by having EDS. We agreed it would have been stronger if there had been a parallel with Helios being intersex and doing ballet. Another opportunity for intersex themes would have been to set Mr Black as beating Helios to “man him up” or “keep him in line” in terms of gender performance and being intersex.

JR was curious how the publisher/etc were trying to market the book since it didn’t seem #ownvoices (“is it trying to be mainstream?”). Elizabeth shared that ze has usually seen it promoted on social media as “queer YA”.

What we liked

The prose. As Michelle put it: “The descriptions are so pretty I got shivers… The theming was also well done…  the descriptions of the world were really painterly in a way that was really pleasing.”

The book was emotionally impactful. We all appreciated that a queer romance that didn’t end in tragedy, even if it seemed like that what was being set up! Michelle shared: “there were a few things that were crying buttons for me. One was religious affirmation of queerness. I wouldn't say I have a lot of trauma from being raised Catholic but this still made me cry. Parental affirmation of queerness also!”

Themes of fatherhood (e.g. Icarus talking about what he would do differently, father as minotaur) and toxic masculinity (e.g. Akeem & Luca averse to crying)

The disability representation. Michelle praised the neurodivergent & touch starvation portrayal.

What we struggled with

We agreed all the book ended abruptly. Elizabeth wanted more denouement. JR agreed but pointed out this is a general trend in writing. We all agreed we wanted a better sense of whether things worked out for our protagonists.

We were confused about Icarus getting a job in Paris out of nowhere, and the brief mentions of legal proceedings were confusing.

Elizabeth and JR thought Icarus was too emotionally mature sometimes. Elizabeth thought that Icarus’ “I wish I could hate you” discussion with his father was too emotionally mature for his age, and JR felt his social navigating (manipulating?) felt too savvy. Michelle found it hard to relate.

Mixed reactions

Elizabeth struggled with the setup of the school friends: the exposition was too much all at once. But this worked for Michelle!

Michelle found the dialogue to be very cute. It worked for xer, but warned that there are people who will find it excruciating.

Ancient Greek Mythology

The book draws heavily on 18th century Northern European interpretations of Ancient Greek mythology. Michelle is a fan of Ancient Greek mythology and “there were a lot of little references that I got”. JR wished they knew more of the mythology.

Michelle asked Elizabeth (who is Greek-Canadian) if the mythology connected, and ze said not really. We then got into a discussion about how in recent centuries Northern Europeans reinterpreted Greek mythology for white supremacist ends, and how there are many gaps between what the Anglosphere thinks of as “Greek” vs actual Greek people & culture.

Elizabeth didn’t come into the book discussion planning to get into the politics of how Ancient Greek mythology is interpreted and used! For the summary, ze wants to clarify that this book was par for the course on how Anglosphere authors invoke “Greek” mythology - the meta-discussion we had was not a criticism of Ancrum but of a general sociocultural phenomenon, and it did not reduce Elizabeth’s enjoyment of the book.

What we compared this book to

It reminded JR of Across the Green Grass Fields in that intersex variation is introduced and then doesn't matter again.

It reminded Elizabeth of Queen in that the intersex rep wasn't what you’d expect for #ownvoices

Michelle brought up how intersex representation so frequently feels slapped on and Bogi Takács is a rare exception. We then talked about Power to Yield, how it’s hard for authors to walk the line between intersex rep & having it being all about trauma, but that Power to Yield pulls it off.

Michelle saw the book as “very John Green meets Madelline Miller”

JR was glad this wasn’t another Middlesex!

Overall, we collectively enjoyed the book! 😀 We recommend you pick it up as a solid piece of YA fiction and to support an intersex author. We wouldn’t recommend it as a great example of intersex representation, and were disappointed by that part. 🫤 We all hoped that Ancrum will develop more confidence and knowledge about intersex issues and do better in future books! Everybody left the call wanting to read more by her. 👍️

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[bassicallymaestra]

My Hogwarts Legacy MC ✨Serena Kosmos ✨

[cerealbishh]

"You're pretty new at this whole relationship thing, huh?"

"... Yeah."

[morningmask27]

Honestly I'm also not fully happy with what they did with Whis this book

[moe-broey]

AND NOW FOR. SOMETHING BETTER. That tbh I DO really wanna pick up again. Something I DEF was keeping under wraps, holding it esp close to me.... but I got distracted and oh god I can't remember when I started this but it CANNOT be a year old at this point... surely it was just a bout of off-season Halloween fever.......... surely.....

REGARDLESS. HALLOWEEN DUO UPON YE (only sharing scraps/glimpses here!)

THEMATICALLY. A bit of a mishmash between Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, but the wolf is also just your average werewolf.

This was esp early in Mani's development, me trying to get a feel for it... and I thought the coolest/funniest way to do that would be to Sothis its ass. You thought you were just a formless apparition that lives in somebody's head? WRONG. GET PHYSICAL FORMED, IDIOT. (It is worth saying, this is just one really weird uniquely cursed Halloween night. Put that thang back where it came from OR SO HELP ME.)

Also ALL of the storytelling you can do w a duo unit. Goes crazy. Goes insane. ESPECIALLY in this case, where it's just two of the "same" person. INSANE.

Snippets/notes...

Please note these are all somewhat early notes!!! And tbh Mani lore is so fucking complicated I have trouble completely capturing it, myself. So... a lot of the information here does hold up. But in some ways, I think I may do things a bit differently... maybe just the presentation of it. I have gotten to the point where Mani has some really distinct mannerisms. So I'd lean heavier into those!

I think I may end up reworking Mani's look, but it is very classic lolita inspired. (Also!! Mimics the silhouette of Moe's typical robe/bloomer look... for a Halloween alt, goes CRAZY). MEANWHILE. MOE.

Moe..... aren't you cold.... or is the fur enough to keep you somewhat warm..?

[ratatatastic]

there is something so special about self fulfilling prophecies