#ah well that’s just how he is in my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riddlesrose · 2 days ago

Text

the string of fate

w/ riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, & malleus in part one: meeting your soulmate.

“i learnt about this in school as a kid, but didn’t know it could… cross dimensions?”

most go their entire lives with little to no hope of finding their cosmically assigned second half, but there's always a chance.

you don’t see your string until you come into physical contact with your soulmate for the first time. a red string will tie itself on your left pinky, unable to ever be removed but it feels as if its never there. the featherlight tickle of the string always reminds you that you've found the one thing a lot of people would lay down their life for.

a.n; 7.6k words total ~ 1.1k each so buckle up for a long post

riddle never really thought much on the idea of a soulmate. his mother taught him that he’d have no need for one, to push the idea out of his head. but it stuck. it stuck to him in the back of his mind, that there was someone out there, and the slim chance he had to meet them kept his hope aflame.

riddle and his crew of cards were some of the first people you actually met in the wonderland. you took him as some sort of rule enforcing, crazy man for the first few days until you realize he really just likes making sure everything stays in order.

headmage crowley had sent you on a few back and forth missions for him recently, which always led you to the same heartslabyul dorm each time, specifically to riddle or trey if the housewarden was busy or unavailable.

you rap your knuckle against the large front door and are instantly greeted by ace, who happens to look like he’s in a major rush. he greets you quickly, then speeds past you like he’s tardy for something. he probably is.

you shrug and let yourself into the dorm building, “hello?” you voice echoes off the walls of the oddly empty halls. you take the chance to look around a little more closely than before, you notice there are signs pointing to many different directions on the same stem, but they all point to places leading to walls or doors. strange.

there are many paintings hung on the tall, red wrapped walls. some are of animals, like flamingos and hedgehogs, others are of people. you notice there are a lot of one plump lady with a small yet tall crown upon her head. must be the queen of hearts.

someone clears his throat behind you. “i see you’ve let yourself in.” you whirl around and are met with riddle’s stern look. not quite disapproving, but you can’t quite place the look he’s attempting to flatten you with.

“well, ace technically let me in?” you gnaw on your bottom lip, realizing how stupid that sounds.

“right. i see you were looking at the pictures on the walls, have any caught your attention?” the housewarden lifts an eyebrow, before scanning the nearby paintings and various pieces of decoration filling the hallway.

you turn to the large portrait of who you assume is the queen of hearts, “yeah, this one.” you take in the details, her mouth is open as if she’s commanding the various card soldiers by her side. you notice they’re all a perfect match to a deck of cards. spade, diamond, heart, and clover soldiers march together in perfect unison at the queen’s orders.

behind her is a large castle surrounded by tall shrubs in varying shapes resembling animals and many red rose bushes. something about this painting feels vaguely familiar.

“ah, yes. that is actually my favourite painting in this hall– the main focus of it is the queen of hearts. she was a strict ruler who ruled over her land. she kept everything in order with her army of card soldiers who followed her loyally. i believe that is because if one of them was out of line, she declared immediate beheading.” riddle looks fondly up at the painting, as if reminiscing over someone lost.

you step closer to the painting, almost close enough you could see the brushstrokes if you squint hard enough. “she kind of… looks like she would fit in here. i think she would like the roses.”

“you’re not wrong.” you glance at riddle, catching the small smile he’s wearing as he stares up at the old painting. riddle wipes the smile away swiftly, turning to you. “so, prefect. if i may be so curious, what brings you here today?”

“right! right, that. headmage crowley said…” you pause, “wait, what did he say.” you mumble, turning away slightly to think. “did he…? yes, he wanted me to relay a message. for… some reason.”

“that message is?”

“‘tell housewarden rosehearts that we are expecting a new delivery of riding gear by next week.’ ” you mock crowley's voice to the best of your abilities, turning back to riddle, then continuing. “there’s horses here?”

“yes, there’s multiple. i’m in the equestrian club with some other students. i could show you some time if you are interested.” riddle’s smooth, almost uninterested voice gets a little softer when he goes on, “i dare say i have a favourite, she’s quite kind.”

you hold out your hand, offering a promising handshake. “it’s a deal, housewarden rosehearts: you show me the horses sometime.”

the redhead cracks a small smile, “please, riddle is fine.” he takes your hand, “sometime it is-”

he stops mid phrase. small red glitters start emitting from your interlaced hands, falling but not quite hitting the floor. they disappear moments after they appear. the twinkling glitters capture the light coming from the nearby window, they shine bright before dying like an oxygenless fire.

riddle’s breath hitches in his throat, frantic eyes meeting your equally blown ones. both of you want to rip your hands away, to go back five minutes ago, but neither moves. the glittering stops moments later. you’re the first to slowly peel your hand from riddle’s, breaking eye contact, you look down to your left hand. there sits a neatly tied bow, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly placed for all to see.

riddle copies you, examining his own left hand. a matching red bow sits tied on his pinky. despite his mind screaming at him to leave, to ignore fate, he decides to test the waters of the universe. he gently grasps your left hand with his right, when you make no move to take back control, he slowly moves your hands together.

a light tickle is felt as the string unwinds and begins reaching towards riddle, more specifically, towards his string, which is also unwinding and reaching for its second half. your heart is hammering against your ribs as you watch fate’s cruel display of affection.

you’re sure riddle can share the sentiment of cruelty. you’ve known riddle for a total of less than a month, and hey, has anyone mentioned that you’re not from this universe? no? maybe they should.

your breath comes out slow and ragged, words fail to form as you attempt to say something, anything, to who was just a friend minutes ago.

“i-i think, i uh, hear grim calling. i need to go.”

“uh, yes, yes. i will… be in touch about the horses. if you’re still interested.” riddle’s voice trails off as his confidence wavers with each word while he watches you leave. you look back over your shoulder to riddle, to your cosmic partner.

riddle has no need for a soulmate, right?

you have no idea what you’re going to do about this.

leona never really put his hopes in a soulmate. he knew after he graduated that he’d go back to the sunset savanna and be the second prince once again. though he often milked the ‘prince’ title, he loathed the idea of falling into line with actual princely duties, like getting married. there was a sliver of hope in leona’s mind that if he ever found his soulmate that there’d be a chance he’d get to have a say in his marriage.

in the end, he’s as hopeful for that outcome as is a sea sponge is to grow legs and walk out of water.

you blink away the drowsiness clouding your mind, professor trein might actually bore you to death if he’s not careful. though it’s only the first weeks of classes, half of his lectures are not sticking in your brain. some would say, in one ear and out the other.

an elbow nudges you from your left side, it’s ace. “do you get any of this?” he whispers.

“you’re asking the wrong person.” you narrow your eyes and blink hard this time.

a moment passes where ace is beyond confused, then he realizes that in fact he is asking the wrong person for help here. he quickly twists in his seat to his opposite neighbour, deuce to ask him the same thing. deuce shakes his head. ace’s shoulders deflate, defeated.

some more time passes before class is over, trein assigns some work, you, ace, and deuce groan in succession but were quickly leveled with a stare from trein. the three of you swiftly made for the exit.

it’s only an hour later that you realize your bag was unzipped and wide open as you were complaining with the heartslabyul freshmen, meaning your history notebook was left somewhere in trein’s classroom. you bashfully rub at your neck while you explain to the duo why you have to suddenly ditch them, reassuring that you’ll be as quick as you can and they don’t need to come with.

grim stares at you before ineffectively dismissing his hench-human with a huff and a flick of his paw. (you were going to go whether grim ‘allowed’ you to or not, you need that book.)

your speed walking caught you some funny looks as you sped past students in the halls, you didn’t want to leave your friends hanging. gods this would be so much easier with magic.

you reach the history classroom and the door is slightly ajar. you assume either the professor was still in there or it was purposefully left open. maybe he realized there was a forgotten notebook and thought you’d come back for it. it does have your name across the top in blue pen.

the door squeals on its hinges as it opens slowly, you cringe at the sudden noise. it goes quiet as the door fully opens. no trein in sight, nor does his desk have an addition of your notebook. okay, maybe it’s still at your seat.

the class is empty, thankfully. you don’t have to awkwardly squeeze through strangers looking for a white notebook. a lot of people have white notebooks, but only you have your name. you reach the desk you sat at today and… no book. oh.

“okay, where is it.” you sigh to no one as you fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of anyone who would steal a freshmen history notebook. while you’re thinking, a yawn catches your attention. wait, what?

“check the floor.” the yawn turns into a phrase, making you jump.

“what the hell?” you look around, whipping your head from the left to the right, but ultimately seeing no one. after a minute of silence, from both you and the gruff voice, you inch your way around the desks, checking the row behind. you practically jump out of your skin when you’re met with leona kingscholar sprawled out across a row of seats.

“that can not be comfortable.” you point out the obvious as the scare wears off.

“it’s not.” leona agrees, “but it was quiet, and empty.” he cracks an eye, leaning his head up slightly to look at you upside down. he kind of looks like he’s scowling but it’s hard to tell.

you take a second, somewhat taken aback at his jab to your presence. “right. well, sorry?”

“apology accepted, now get out lest you disrupt me anymore.” okay, rude. you roll your eyes before taking his previous suggestion. you squat down and check the floor for your book and-

“aha!” the notebook somehow ended up in the row behind you, it must have slipped from your bag and slid backwards. you reach under the seat leona’s got his head on, but the sleeping prince catches your arm before you can grab the book. it stuns you for a moment before you recover, “what’s your deal?” you try and back your arm from his grip but he doesn’t let go.

“you. you’re the deal. you’re yellin’ beside my head.” embarrassment rushes to your face, you did triumphantly shout when you found the missing book, that much is true.

“okay, i’m sorry. now please let me go.” leona releases your arm, opting to run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes as he sits up.

you scoop the notes off the ground, attempting to get out of leona’s bubble before you make enemies with the wrong person (i.e the second born prince of the sunset savanna). he reaches up and stretches his arms and back from probably the worst sleeping spot on school grounds, but something catches your attention. you suck in a breath, not wanting to make assumptions, and lift your left hand.

there sits a perfectly tied red string, transparent yellow glitters still emanating from thin air. looking back up, leona has a matching patch of disappearing glitters that follow his stretch. scrambling to your feet, you drop the notebook you searched so diligently for and reach for leona’s arm as it falls. he opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut at the panicked look in your eyes. he falters for a moment, hoping you explain before he asks.

the housewarden glances where you’re focused. a dainty red string is unwrapping itself from your finger and reaching towards… him? not a moment later, you’re walking as fast as your legs will take you without giving out, back to your friends who’ve hopefully not forgotten you were with them. you’ve a lot to think about.

then again, so does leona.

azul always humoured the idea of a soulmate. someone to always put up with him, to be by his side eternally. he’s caught himself once or twice drifting off to the idea of who it is, were they like him in any way? was it someone from the human world, the sea, or was he bound to never find this mysterious individual? azul found himself checking his pinky if he remembered. it was always bare.

until the day it wasn’t.

you absentmindedly kick a pebble into the slightly overgrown grass surrounding main street. large stone statues of the seven tower around the street, each with a plaque engraved with their names. something about them felt oddly comforting, like finding an old childhood toy buried deep in a box, but you couldn’t place why.

suddenly, both your arms are taken by a matching pair of twins. one loops his arm around yours, the other lightly grabs onto your shoulder.

one second you’re shuffling around the statues of the seven, next you’re being dragged around by the freaky leech twin duo. floyd offers no explanation, jade simply says he knows what he’s doing. you’d hope so. you hope he’s got a real good explanation for abducting someone off the main street and hauling them to the mirror room, transporting them to the octavinelle dorm building.

the sea theme catches your eye, the plants sway as if they really are underwater, and the air smells slightly salty. you take in the exterior design, how it all blends together and creates a homey feeling for the students.

you breath in the air once again, “okay, now that we’re here, can either of you tell my why i’ve been kidnapped?”

floyd begins cackling behind his hand, “shrimpy-napped!” air passes from your nose, ready to get annoyed with floyd before jade offers an explanation.

“azul has requested you come visit him, this was the best way.”

“no, it’s not? he could have come to talk to me like a normal person.”

the octavinelle dorm opens, revealing the man of topic. “why be normal? besides, i am a very busy man, this was optimal.” optimal for you, you weren’t nabbed off the main street by a pair of eels. you close your eyes for a moment, mentally resetting.

you realize jade and floyd are still hanging off your arms so you shake them off as azul now takes the lead, showing you to his office, where he claims is the best location to have a chat. you’re not sure what he wants from you, or why you’re actually here, but it better be good.

azul sits, gesturing for you to take the seat across from his desk. the chair is simple, seemingly in pristine condition too. maybe it’s new. his desk, on the other hand, has definitely seen better days. there are knicks and scratches all around, marking up the beautiful detailing of the wood. you sit as you examine it.

azul clears his throat, stealing your attention from the chipped desk. “so, ramshackle prefect, are you one hundred percent sure you don’t know how you ended up here?”

you groan as soon as the words leave his lips. this cannot be the reason he’s gotten you prefect-napped by his vice housewarden and his brother. you stand to leave, not wanting to play along with azul’s ridiculous play on your arrival.

“wait- don’t go?” he sounds almost confused, as if he doesn’t know why you’d up and go.

“oh come on, azul, this is like our second proper meeting and you hound me for showing up in twisted wonderland? i don’t know, okay?” you sit back down.

he folds his hands on the desk in thought. he kisses his teeth before starting again, “alright, i’ll admit, that was low of me. how about this, i’ll offer a glimpse of my past in return for some of yours. i am very curious about you.”

at least he admit to his wrongdoing, but why is he interested in you and your past? azul must be able to see the confusion and consideration in your face, he continues. “i cannot lie when i say i haven’t felt the same since you arrived.” his face instantly flushes, as does yours. that really sounded like some twisted love confession.

“i-i mean there’s been this odd feeling i get when someone mentions your name, i can’t quite explain it.”

“azul, stop while you’re ahead. you’re digging a deeper grave here.” he nods, flushed cheeks hidden behind gloved hands.

for the next half an hour, the two of you ignore the odd confession azul accidentally spilled while you share childhood memories. it’s oddly intimate but comforting at the same time.

sometime during an anecdote you lean your arms on the desk, fiddling with the nearest pen to keep your hands busy. a habit that azul shares. he’s flicking a pen back and forth absentmindedly while he recounts the first day he met the twins.

azul lowers his hands, halting the pen's movements, and taps the top of your hand in a comforting attempt. “now, i hope i didn’t… make a… bad impression…” he trails off as quickly as he started.

your eyes are glued to your balled fist where purple glitters begin emanating from thin air, materializing the fated red string. you instinctively flatten your hand to watch the string work its way around your finger. across from you, azul is equally as stunned as he almost rips his glove in attempts to remove it, watching as his own matching shimmer appears.

you’re both stunned to silence. unsure of how to react, or what to say. until the boy across from you breaks the momentary silence, “i guess… i know why i was drawn… to you.” his voice is soft, almost scared as he speaks.

“maybe it was a good thing i was ‘shrimpy-napped’ today.” you’re just as quiet, eyes glossy.

shrimpy-napped? you’ll have to explain that one to him later. you have nothing but time… azul hopes.

kalim knows he can’t indulge the idea of a soulmate too much. he’s next in line to a wealthy family and carries an influential last name. despite knowing this, it’s always been a thought in his busy mind, knowing someone, somewhere is the missing piece to his mental puzzle.

for the last week, something has been bothering kalim. neither he nor jamil can figure out what it is, he’s passing his classes (to his knowledge), he’s got a trustworthy vice housewarden and no one has tried to kill him for the past few months… kalim couldn’t put his finger on the reason his stomach felt like it was in knots.

it got progressively worse over the week and he was afraid he was falling ill. a few tests later and he’s healthy as a horse. with a clean medical slate and nothing of real concern, the only thing kalim can do is plaster a smile on his face and go about his day, trying to ignore the sensation.

the large door separating the lounge from the kitchen swings open with great force. “jamil, i can’t take it anymore! it feels like there’s something wrong with me!”

“i believe i can assure you there’s nothing wrong with you, are you nervous about anything?”

“no,” kalim sighs, dropping his head into his hands. it’s been a week of no answers, and the only time he felt any better was in his classes. maybe it was because his mind was occupied by other things, or… there’s another reason.

you let your head fall back onto your pillow, looking over to grim. “well, weasel? am i dying, or am i dying.” the pads of grim’s paw feel across your forehead, not without shooting you a look over the nickname.

he retracts his paw, tucking it back by his side. “you feel fine? maybe you’re homesick?” grim offers a solution you hadn’t thought of. it wasn’t a non-possibility, you did get transported away from your homeland not two months ago.

you check the phone you were given for the time, “grim, we’re going to be late!” you shoot up straight like a firework, snatching your school bag and blazer before scurrying out the door, grim hot on your trail.

you know you’re not supposed to, but you take off running down the halls of NRC like you’re being chased. the last thing you need is to be late and get in trouble. you dodge other students who aren’t in the same rush you are, they’re probably in the right half of the school anyways. your class was on the opposite side of the school, up two flights of stairs. for someone with magic, this would be easy. no sweat.

you’re in the middle of mentally complaining when you zone back in, you gasp as you almost bullrush the student in front of you, but his companion quickly pulls him aside. your hands just slightly brush up against one another as you pass him. without stopping, because if you do you’ll surely be extremely late, you glance over your shoulder and yell an apology.

you catch sight of who you almost crashed into, and by the gods, you were almost dead. dead at the hands of jamil viper. you just about swept kalim al-asim straight off his feet and onto the ground, but thanks to jamil, you’re spared a swift demise.

many halls and two flights of stairs later and you reach your class. thankfully, just as you step in the bells ring. as you take your seat, you realize you feel a lot better all of a sudden.

a long, lazy hour later, the class finally ends. you’re freed from the grasps of boredom, but a pair of tan hands decked in golden jewellery find themselves on the top of your table, halting your attempt to leave peacefully.

the scarabia housewarden beams as you stand, startled. how did he know what class you’re in? what is he doing here, and what does he need with you?

a hundred questions blind you as kalim settles into the chair in front of your table. his beaming smile fell slightly into a smaller smile. you greet him, somewhat unsure of how you’re supposed to address him, as you know his title but haven’t really made friends with him yet. he dismisses it and asks to see your hands.

your teeth find your lip, biting down lightly in curiosity. you untuck your hands from your pockets and present them towards kalim’s outstretched ones. a gasp falls from his lips when he catches sight of your hand. your left hand.

you look down, unsure of the reason for his reaction.

then you see it. a gasp falls from your lips this time as you bring your hand closer to your face; a little red string, tied perfectly into a bow sits on the base of your little finger.

“when- who-... how!?” unfinished questions fall before you can think. you’ve met your soulmate without even knowing. this had to have happened today, but when? who was it? you only remember just about crashing into… kalim.

your face falls in disbelief. without thinking, you reach towards his hand, where a matching bow sits. the closer you get, the less uniform the bows become. when they’re within a few inches they begin to unravel and wrap around the other, like a vine conjoining in the middle of a wall.

kalim silently watches the spectacle in front of him, amazed. never in a hundred years did he think he’d ever be able to see this happen to him. growing up, he was told stories of soulmates and how they’re very unlikely to ever meet. but here he is, meeting the one the stars believed was best for him.

as you and kalim are watching the pair of strings move like magic a voice clears his throat by the door. you had no idea he was there but jamil shoots the housewarden a look, a warning of sorts, you assume. he knows there’s going to be a lot to unwrap with this newfound information. kalim knows it too, and so do you.

like why is your soulmate interdimensional? man… what a week. (it’s tuesday.)

vil liked the idea of a soulmate. would they be like him? or maybe the opposite. though, he didn’t actively search the lands for his soulmate, he was never opposed to the fact that the gods above, maybe even the seven, had picked someone for him.

him and his entourage of fans who would probably collectively lose their minds if vil announced the existence of his soulmate.

a few days ago, you were given an invitation by the pomefiore’s housewarden for a lesson on twisted wonderland etiquette. you assume crowley put him up to this, or maybe, vil wanted too. you weren’t sure, the only thing the invitation said was a date, time, and location.

now it’s the day, 4pm and you’re standing outside of the pomefiore’s large, castle-like dorm building. the perfectly trimmed bushes and blooming flowers give the exterior a nice, inviting aroma, but the sense of dread and fear have been gnawing on your insides since you passed through the mirror.

surely the wonderland’s etiquette can’t be so different from that of your homeland. maybe it was a ploy, or a faulty invitation. should you leave? yeah-

the door opens gracefully as you’re about to turn on the balls of your heels and high tail it back to the mirror. you’re met with the heeled housewarden of pomefiore, the illustrious vil schoenheit greets you kindly, inviting you in.

“thank you for uh, inviting me here.” you bow your head slightly, unsure.

“it looks like you’ve already got some experience under your belt, good.” does he seriously take you for a baby? you have basic manners, seriously, this cannot be a good use for your time.

but truth be told, vil solely invited you under the guise of an etiquette lesson because he’s had a feeling of lost since you appeared on the first day. something has been tugging at him since then and he had to find out what it is and how he can get rid of it.

vil guides you through elegant hallways, passing by large windows that look out to various places. large gardens, a fountain, beautiful blooming flowers, and chatting residents. all of it is somewhat overwhelming, but you can understand the constant need to be perfect, vil is the embodiment of it.

you trail slightly behind him as his heels tap on the flooring. you’re able to get a good look at him, his perfectly styled hair, creaseless uniform and perfect posture. you wonder how long he takes to get ready each morning.

the tap of his heels stops but you realize too late, you’re just about to crash into his back when he spins on the toes of his shoes. “before i forget, prefect, there’s something in my room i must fetch. come.” and then he’s off again, heels clicking on the shiny tile like tap shoes.

he swings the large detailed door to his room open, it’s decorated elegantly, like the rest of the pomefiore building. it’s something straight out of a designer competition, the sheets and curtains are silky, and expensive looking too.

“is there an ulterior motive for having me here?” the words fall from your lips as you’re looking around before you’re able to stop them. vil spins again, facing your after rooting through a drawer on his bedside table.

the blonde places a hand on your shoulder, gazing down through perfect eyelashes, “i believe with more practice, you won’t make a fool of yourself while you’re here.”

your brows furrow, is that the only reason he wanted to teach you? he thinks you’re a fool? you look over to the hand on your shoulder, but notice something other than his hand, which you were ready to swat away and go back to ramshackle.

iridescent purple glitters fall from midair, and you’re instantly filled with a sense of relief. like an ache that’s finally gone away, like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were yearning for.

technically, you did find something.

as you’re internally monologuing, you feel the hand on your shoulder tighten. vil has realized why he’s had an odd pull in your direction. you’re his soulmate. soul. mate. his mouth goes dry at the thought.

the magic-less human from a different world with an unbridled familiar, hand picked by the gods for him. he has one question: why? he releases your shoulder after you wince under the pressure, floating his hand to your raised one.

vil’s lips purse into a thin line, hiding the purple lipstick fully. he watches the string reach towards the one wrapped around your finger, moving as if controlled like a marionette. each draw of breath is slow, uncalculated and scared. the star believed he’d be excited, like anyone would be, if he found his soulmate, but your situation makes this hard.

he wants to enjoy this experience but you share the sentiment, your lips are pursed and eyes are wide.

the strings meet between your hands, tying into a neat bow between the other string. these fate strings are seemingly very smart; they’ve got some kind of gravitational pull towards its match. vil meets your gaze with an unexplainable shine glossing his pale eyes.

suddenly, his dorm door bursts open, revealing a disheveled rook, who’s actively attempting to smoothen the crinkles in his uniform and dust off his shoulders. he’s not in savanaclaw anymore. shocked, vil rips his hand from its place beside yours, shoving his hands under his arms as he crosses them.

“la roi du poison- oh, et la ramshackle préfet!” rook tosses his hands up, clearly not expecting you. “i hope i’m not interrupting, but there’s a problem in the lounge!” he starts back down the hall before vil can reply, leaving him no choice but to follow.

the housewarden apologizes quickly before only the tap and clack of his heels can be heard as he’s quick to follow his vice into whatever trouble someone’s caused.

you, on the other hand, are left with way more questions than this morning, but have the answer to one. the lifelong question about soulmates has been answered. somewhat.

idia didn’t believe he’d ever care even if he found his supposed soulmate. he’s too awkward, socially inept, and too focused on his games most days to consider searching. if luck was on his side eventually, and the day the string appears comes, he may just change his mind.

the first time you met idia properly, it was a complete mess. he often made appearances via floating tablet, or sent ortho in his place to meetings or gatherings. you heard from others that not many have seen the ignihyde housewarden in person for more than ten minutes total in the three years he’s been in NRC.

others are luckier with the introvert, like azul who shares his love for board games with idia. he’ll get all riled up during the club, going off on tangents, only to zip it moments later, utterly embarrassed about his outburst. azul had grown accustomed to idia’s back and forth attitude, and is more patient with him as a result.

you clutch the papers specifically handed to you by crowley for azul, something about a tax return for… his dorm? you didn’t quite understand what the headmage was yammering about before he ushered you out and directed you to the club, guaranteeing that you’d find the octavinelle housewarden there.

you pause in front of the class crowley mentioned, then push the door open. “well, if it isn’t the ramshackle prefect!” azul greets you as you enter the somewhat empty room, causing others to glance your way before returning to their games, including idia. his gaze lingering for but a moment longer from the corner of his eye. ortho greets you kindly as well, floating over to you, trying to peek at the small stack of papers.

“hello, azul. and ortho!” you smile to both.

“say hello to my brother, too!” ortho’s sweet voice rings as idia, who you now realize is his brother, looks as if he’s shaking like a leaf, ready to fly away with the wind.

“n-no, ortho, it’s okay.” his voice is quick, almost inaudible as he mumbles into his hood, which is doing a poor job of covering the flame-like hair that sprouts off his head.

you shrug walk closer to the table where azul and idia’s half finished game of checkers lies forgotten. you reach out and move around a white piece, claiming victory for the white team, who you assume was idia. you turn to azul and hand him the papers, “crowley sent me to give you these. something about a tax return? whatever he meant by that.”

azul takes the papers, tucking them under his arm. “i run a lounge open to any and all students, headmage must want his cut, i assume. you should come by some time! though, i’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“i uh, would if i could,” you pull the empty pocket liners out of your pockets comically, “i’m completely broke, wallet went poof when i… appeared? here.”

“ah-”

“well, azul, this was great but i’m going backtomydormnow, pleaseexcuseme.” idia’s unexpected, almost panic stricken voice breaks your conversation with azul as he stands, more like jumps, from his seat, startling not only you, but his brother and azul.

as the older shroud brother attempts to speed walk off, ortho floats around in front of him, trying to get him to stay, claiming he never leaves a game unfinished, or a score tied. idia tries to swerve around ortho, to get out as quick as he can, he’s not even fully sure why he wants to leave, why he feels he has to leave, but an overwhelming sense of familiarity surrounded him when you walked in. he tried to ignore it but it got worse the closer you came, and when you finished his game of checkers, he almost passed out.

he has to get out of here. back to the safety of his dorm room, to his games and favourite anime.

idia felt as if he was trapped in a triangle between azul, ortho, and you.

he stumbles over his own foot pathetically, causing you to reach out instinctively to hold onto his arm, hoping to steady him before he falls. idia pauses, looking scared as he brings a shaky hand close to his face. his eyes widen as you all watch a red string materialize from blue glittering stars tie itself around his pinky like magic. his face pales as you copy, bringing your left hand up to view.

a red bow sits neatly around the base of your pinky, blue glitter quickly fading. you slowly move your hand closer to idia’s, watching as the bows unravel and reach for one another. like a pair of vines, they wrap around each other until idia returns to his senses and rips his hand away, covering the new accessory to his everyday wear with his other hand. at the loss of its pair, your string returns to your pinky.

you stand there, utterly dumbfounded in the middle of the board game club. you came to simply deliver some papers to azul, but are now leaving with some very, very confusing new information.

you turn to azul who’s sporting a matching dumbfounded look, and ortho seems to be the only happy one at this point. when you turn back once again, idia has disappeared, possibly quicker than any teleportation magic known to magekind. ortho waves a swift goodbye, giggling as he tails after his brother.

you look at azul again, who’s mostly regained his composure, “well…?”

“what do you mean, ‘well’!? i could use a little more support here, azul. i just found out my soulmate isn’t even from my DIMENSION.” you drag your hands down your face, exasperated. and suddenly, very tired. “y’know what, don’t even answer that, i’m going back to ramshackle.”

you hear azul snicker as you march out of the classroom. asshole.

malleus cast the idea of a soulmate out long ago. with his millennium long life expectancy, he was sure he’d outlive, or had outlived, any type of lover the universe has assigned him.

the heir to briar valley was quite frustrated today. he had overheard some diasomnia students chatting about the idea of soulmates earlier in the morning and it’s been on his mind ever since. it’s well past the final class of the day, and he skipped dinner.

i don’t quite feel hungry as of now. he waved off lilia’s attempt to join them for the meal, worrying sebek the most. lilia quite literally had to hold the first year by the collar to stop him from chasing malleus down.

the housewarden shut himself in his room like a temperamental toddler. angry clouds crackle and pop outside, rivalling his emotions. his head felt like it was swimming in an indescribable pot of gelatin, it was heavy and sad, which troubled malleus more because he thought he was long over the idea of a little red string wrapping itself around his pinky.

what a trivial thing to be so upset over. some things in life aren’t fair, malleus knows that better than just about everyone. time is a thief and age is a curse, the heir gets to live hundreds of lives while that of humans perish so quickly.

sure, he’s enjoyed learning new traditions and customs that have sprouted within his lifetime, but he’s also watched the last remaining folks die in cultures, leaving their history to be forgotten over time.

malleus isn’t sure how, but he’s managed to be so deep in thought that he wandered to the spot he used to occupy before it gained a new resident. what’s now the ramshackle dorm, was once a beaten, dusty, forgotten building beside the main building of NRC.

the day you showed up was one he won’t forget. a human with an unruly, unkempt familiar who really has a knack for getting himself in trouble. since you’ve been living in the old building, fixing it up and going to classes alongside him and his peers, he’s stopped coming here for more than one reason.

it would be impolite to intrude on what is now your space, especially uninvited. he’s settled with lingering in the gardens in front of ramshackle. he’s taken a liking to the purple and blue flowers that have begun to wilt with the cooler season upcoming. malleus runs a finger over one, watching it instantly gain the strength to hold itself up, blooming once again. the purple petals shimmer with the lingering magic he shares, admiring the way it almost seems to follow his hand, asking for more.

“uh, excuse me?” a voice startles him back into focus, he clasps his hand behind his back and turns around. he’s met with a half asleep ramshackle prefect, hair messy and wrapped in a blanket.

“i apologize, i shall be going at once.” he’s been caught, he figures it’s time to find a new place to think.

you take a step forwards, looking the housewarden over, you’ve definitely seen him around before but he always looks either deep in thought or like he doesn’t want to be bothered, so you’ve kept your space from him. “no, wait.”

malleus falters, wait? he does just that. he doesn’t use his magic to teleport away, doesn’t walk backwards, doesn’t move. he allows you to look him over, to judge him, expecting the usual treatment. his guard remains high but he realizes how he towers over you, like he does with everyone else so he somewhat relaxes his body, trying to be smaller.

as you’re examining the semi-stranger in the garden, you notice the singular purple flower that’s in bloom. you tilt your head, looking past malleus. “did you… do that?”

malleus turns, suddenly remembering the flower. a small smile graces his lips as he leans down, picking the flower's stem near the middle. your brows knit together as he turns back and holds his hand out to you. the flower still shimmers from the magic he used. “i did.”

you pluck the flower from his hold, careful not to damage the delicate plant. you bring it close, “is there a reason you’re not in your dorm and in my garden? it’s late and sounds like it’ll rain at any moment,” you look upwards, expecting the sky to be as black as paint but instead you’re greeted with many, many twinkling stars and an almost full moon. “or… not?”

the housewarden follows your gaze, he hardly noticed the clouds have cleared. when did they do that? he swipes at his forehead, clearing his vision from the hair that sprouts around his horns.

“i suppose it is appropriate to explain my presence,” he turns back to you, bangs falling back into place. you’re still looking at the stars but you nod in agreement. “before you inhabited this building, i used to come here to think. since you’ve arrived, i’ve ceased that for clear reasons. i hope you do not mind i still roam the garden. it is quite lovely in the spring when everything begins to bloom.”

you listen to the horned individual, lightly caressing the flower unconsciously. the soft petals felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, especially in a flower, could that have been due to the magic embedded in it?

“i don’t mind, it’s not like you’re being creepy about it, right?” he hums, “and besides, we all need a space to think. i’m… glad my little makeshift home can be comfortable enough for you.” you look up to him, moonlight glistening across your eyes.

you signal him to lean down, waving him towards you as you take a step closer to the not-so-stranger. his sharp eyes narrow ever so slightly, confused, but leans his head down.

you reach up to the tall man, setting the flower against the inside of his right horn. your finger grazes the side accidentally, you find it to be smoother than you expected. when you lean back, malleus stands up fully once again, and you’re able to take in how large he actually is. for a third year, he’s very tall. must run in the family.

suddenly, everything around goes quiet. no crickets chirp, no frogs sing, nothing. as if the world stopped breathing. the eerie feeling is felt by both you and malleus, but you catch on quicker. your eyes widen as you lock eyes with him, your eyes shoot to his left hand. lo and behold, a red string begins materializing from green shimmer as it slides itself over his pinky. you reach to grab his wrist, to examine what you seriously cannot believe is happening, but he beats you to it.

malleus evades your grasp as he moves quicker than you can see, he’s crouched beside you before you can blink. he’s intently watching the red string he’s sure he’d never see wrap around your little finger, breathless. but you–you’re frozen. frozen to the spot as a million thoughts run through your mind. the most important one though, is why your soulmate is from a whole different dimension. that’s… not good.

malleus’s only thought is: finally.

then dread hits him like a freight train. he wants to be so very happy, to be excited. to tell lilia, to tell someone that he’s found his soulmate, but he knows two things. one; you’re human. two; twisted wonderland is not your home.

malleus meets your eyes, they’re filled with an emotion he can’t place. but if this is bothering you, your face definitely shows it. he’s quick to stand, and as soon as you blink, he’s gone.

the purple flower, seemingly frozen in time, flutters from the place malleus’s head just was. a gust of wind suddenly picks up, stealing the flower from your outstretched grasp as clouds quickly fill the sky like they did earlier. a crackle, some thunder, and they’re ready to split open and flood these lands.

masterlist

611 notes · View notes

thelocalconstellation · 2 days ago

Text

The kidnappers laughed in disbelief.

"Your husband really thinks you're all that, huh?" One said, turning around. The chair was empty now, they noticed. The one of the others paused for a moment.

"Hey- where'd he go?" I giggled, the sound echoing around the warehouse. They didn't realize I slipped out of the rope the moment they turned around.

"Do any of you want to play a little game?" I asked. I peeked my head out from the darkness in one of the corners. "Peekaboo!"

The third one jumped and screamed. Just because I hadn't been active in years- it doesn't mean I lost all grip on my magic. A little bit of shadow travel makes the commute to the store a lot shorter! Sure, quitting crime got boring sometimes, but my starlight back at home really makes it worth it.

I wandered around the walls of the room, how long until they notice how tangible the darkness has become? Ah, well. Amateurs.

"Hey- uh. Hannah? Why is your shadow doing... that?" It was doing the macarena. The third one, who had yet to actually say anything screamed again.

"Do you mind keeping the noise down? That is an incredibly shrill scream and it's upsetting." My voice echoed around the room. I glanced at the time on my watch. Ah, rats. I gotta hurry this up.

"What do you want from us?!" The second one shouted. At least one of them was still coherent.

"Mmm, not much. Just remember! The Shades are listening, and oh boy do they love to gossip. Now, I'm about to be late for dinner with my darling love, but you all can hang out and think about your actions! Just don't let the ghosts get to you, they might not want to let go if they get a hold on a living vessel again. Bye bye!" I slipped out of the warehouse, and the shadows closed in. Whatever dark pocket dimension they ended up in would let them know well enough to stop trying. I stepped into the shadows again, grabbing some flowers on my way back. I open the door.

"Oh, hey love!"

"Hey starlight. Brought you these. What's for dinner?"

Your spouse was an important and powerful person, so it was no surprise you got kidnapped by their enemies. Unfortunately, that was the kidnappers' final mistake. Your spouse laughs when they get the ransom call. "Good luck. You will need it. Dear, be home soon. Dinner is ready. Love you."

#writing #star stories

3K notes · View notes

digitald0rk · 3 days ago

Text

SPOILED ROTTEN.

pairing : mark grayson x gn!reader. [ established relationship ]

synopsis : in which you spoil your boyfriend mark with a well deserved warm bath and lots of love ♡ after he comes home tired from a mission, filled with doubts.

warnings : slight cursing. angsty? as in nolan continues to haunt him and his doubts, so mentions of blood. also gets kinda suggestive, mention of reader getting wet because im ovulating okay 0_o mark being babygirl as usual.

w.c : 2.1 k

a/n : TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY PREVIOUS POST OMG BSJHJMPS. ALSO THAT FINALE WAS SO GOOD! and i have a final in an hour LOCK INN. again, english is not my first language so apologies for mistakes in advance :D

knock.

a knock on your window? at this hour? well you know who that is, your beloved boyfriend, the one and only mark grayson or well invincible, invinciboy if you feel like being a little shit :]

as soon as you slide your window open he's on you immediately, almost knocking you down onto the ground as he clings onto you for dear life. his face in your neck and arms wrapped around you tightly almost as if he's afraid.

"baby?" you ask, concerned but slightly amused.

you're met with silence.

so you try again. "love?" a little less amused this time.

he doesn't say anything, breathing you in as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, as if trying to fuse his body with yours.

then it hits you, ah the fight on the tv.

you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, he's all tense. you know he's hurt, both physically and mentally. mostly mentally.

he was once again forced into a situation where he had to hurt someone again, badly. he had no other choice, it's not his fault.

"sweetheart, you know it's not your fault right?"

you hear him sigh, he nuzzles his head against your shoulder like a cat, the action making your heart flutter.

you can't help yourself but kiss his forehead, cupping his face gently like you're the viltrumite here, not him, like you'll break him if you're not careful enough, like he's the most precious thing in the whole world, screw that in the whole universe.

and to you he is indeed the most precious thing in the whole universe.

you look into his warm brown eyes which look so unsure, unsure of himself and it breaks your heart. your thumbs lightly stroke his cheekbones while you press sweet soothing kisses all over his pretty face, hoping to take away some of his pain.

your onslaught of kisses and affection does bring a soft smile on his face, he's holding back a giggle as you keep peppering kisses on his face, showing no mercy.

his eyes seem a little brighter now, which is progress!

playfully nuzzling your nose against his, his face still in your hands, you kiss the tip of his nose, laughing when his nose scrunches a little in reaction, god he's so adorable.

"i love you invincib-" you start cheekily.

"don't." he warns with a knowing look, a small smile still adorning his lips. he knows you too well.

"-boy" you're never gonna let that go, are you?

"oh fuck off" he lightly shoves at your shoulder, feigning offense before pulling you in for a kiss.

"love you too dumbass" the banter's back, he's already feeling so much better. how do you do it? he honestly doesn't know.

a few kisses and sweet words later, you're running him a bath. he can't say no to you, you both know this. plus he could really use a nice warm bath right now, he needs to relax his tense muscles.

you put in his favorite scented bathbombs and make sure the temperature is just right before telling him to get in.

he lets out a small bashful chuckle at your whistle when he strips out of his clothes, making a show of flexing his muscles somewhat cockily and almost ends up falling face first on the cold wet marble of your bathroom floor.

he's such a dork.

you can see the way his muscles relax under the hot water once he gets in, the way his face is all blissed out is actually really cute or maybe you're just crazy whipped for mark grayson, a bit of both maybe.

you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him almost doze off, he must be really tired.

gently carding your fingers through his hair, you can't help but admire him.

"my beautiful boy" you whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

the little flustered giggle he lets out has become one of your favorite sounds ever since you've started dating him.

his pupils turn into hearts when you offer to wash his hair for him, you're so sweet, a literal angel.

he doesn't deserve you.

he's killed people.

he has blood on his hands.

he has a part of his father in him.

as you lather your favorite shampoo and work it through your boyfriend's hair, feeling giddy at the thought of his hair smelling like yours, you can't help but think he's being awfully quiet. it seems even the soothing sensation of you massaging his head oh so gently like that isn't enough to drown out the voices.

he's usually rambling about something, well it's either you or seance dog usually but still.

he's overthinking again, you're sure if you close your eyes and focus hard enough you could almost hear it.

"markus sebastian grayson." you say in a playfully serious tone, squishing his cheeks and leaning in a little to peck his now puckered lips because of you smushing his face with your hands, "stop thinking for a bit baby."

"what if i turn out like my father" he doesn't hold back, voice cracking a little.

"mark-"

"no, you don't understan- what if i end up like him? god what if i end up hurting you-"

a beat of silence passes before you speak.

"what if you don't? "

that gets him to stop, mouth agape, his gaze on you. he forgets what he was going to say and the way you're washing his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, your nails softly raking against his scalp just right, the way you put a protective hand against his forehead so none of the shampoo goes in his eyes, it does nothing to him to remember what he was going to say.

"you are not your father", you press a kiss to his forehead.

"just because you're his son doesn't make you him", then a kiss to his cheek.

"your father's action have nothing to do with you, my love", you press small kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, over his beating heart.

"you are not undeserving of love because of something your father did, not you", then your lips brush against the spot between his eyebrows, easing the tension between them.

you hear him suck a shaky breath in at the action, his shoulders slightly shaking, the unshed tears releasing without warning in the form of a small sniffle, it rips your heart in two :(

"because you are you, you are still mark grayson no matter what."

you are going to be the death of him.

your lips gently brush against his before pressing firmly against his soft lips, hoping to convey more with a tender kiss than your words ever will, knowing they don't do your feelings for him justice. your lips move in tandem with his, he pulls you close by the back of your neck, your hands resting on his chest and neither of you want to pull away from this moment.

his grip on you is desperate, the kiss feels searing on your lips, your heart is pounding against your chest, convinced it's gonna beat right out.

you refuse to let go of him, hands sliding slowly up and down his body, almost reverently.

it's intoxicating and dizzying, you feel like you're floating with the way he's kissing you, like an inch of space is going to kill him.

when you do manage to get your gears working, eyes opening up a little, you gently wipe his tears, pulling away only slightly to breathe because you don't want to die- actually, on second thought, that's not a terrible way to go out.

"no- please-" he begs, don't leave him please. he's chasing your lips and slipping his tongue in your mouth, he needs this.

he needs you.

soft moans are muffled between your mouths, his hands are everywhere, everything's too much yet not enough at the same time, his touch leaves a trail of fire behind that leaves you wanting more.

and of course, he ends up "accidentally" pulling you in the bathtub with him.

"mark!" you let out a small squeal, followed by a small laugh from him.

"sorry babe" oh he sounds real sorry alright.

your attention falls on the small, thin string of saliva, still connecting both of your mouths, your heavy lidded eyes lock with his, he's all flushed, lips swollen and shiny.

"that was hot" he sheepishly admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, all bashful like you aren't literally going crazy because of him. and now he's looking at you like you've hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

yeah, you're wet and not from the water i'll tell you that.

but that can wait, this night is all about pampering your beloved alien boy!

you see him open and close his mouth a couple times. words fail him, so instead, he grabs your hand and places a kiss to each of your knuckles one by one, a silent confession of the affection and love he holds for you that is downright overwhelming.

his eyes never leave yours, the whole thing feels raw and intensely intimate, no words are exchanged but rather they are felt, the unconditional acceptance from you and his immense gratitude, need no words.

"thank you" the sincerity in his voice is undeniable and so is the look of love in his eyes, that's reserved only for you.

you roll your eyes fondly when he playfully smears some of the bubbles from the bath onto your nose, typical mark behavior right there.

once he's all clean, both emotionally and physically for the night you help him out of the tub after getting yourself out first, trying and failing miserably not to stare at him. more like gawking but oh well that's his fault for looking like that okay.

he drys himself with the towel you gave him, wrapping it around his waist once he's done.

because of his earlier mischievousnes, you also had to change out of your wet pyjamas into new dry ones. his ass is not sorry about that, the annoying little smirk is proof.

the domesticity of it all however warms your heart, the way he's in nothing but a towel around his waist while you're in your pjs, brushing teeth together and giggling over dumb stuff, oh how you wish it could always be like this.

that little glint in his eyes is back again and you couldn't be more happy.

you even help him dry his hair with your trusty hairdryer, sitting him down on your bed as you work it skillfully through his soft hair which now smells like your shampoo, the blissful expression on his face is enough to make you melt right then and there. laughing when he shakes his head like a puppy, he's not beating the puppy boy allegations anytime soon. not that he minds as long as you're the one teasing him about it.

and he may or may not have a thing for you calling him that but you don't have to know that, well atleast yet.

he slips into a pair of sweatpants and boxers he left at your place awhile ago, picking you up easily and tackling you to your bed.

now it's his turn to return the affection, or well as sleepily as one can.

he kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're the only thing keeping him sane and alive, which wouldn't be too far from the truth.

good luck trying to tuck him in bed, he's so stubborn, "babe i'm not sleepy!" he says, he almost slept on your shoulder like a baby a minute ago. this fucker.

he's only doing this because he wants to spend more time with you, he still feels guilty, he knows he puts being a superhero over everything else, meaning he barely gets to send time with his beautiful partner.

however all those thoughts are out the window the second you trails kisses down his neck, his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, clearly pleased.

and when you do manage to tuck his ass in bed, a kiss to his forehead and countless "i love you's" are exchanged between you both, he rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat, a firm reminder that you're here and all his to cherish.

he almost lets out a small moan when your nails gently scratch at his scalp and lightly at his nape, he loves when you play with his hair, nuzzling against your comfortable chest. he's in heaven.

soon enough he surrenders himself to sleep and to you, one last kiss right over where your heart is beating which belongs to him and him only, the action making your breath hitch and chest tighten with affection and before you know it, he's out like a light.

he's so grateful to have you. he knows he doesn't deserve you, eventhough you say otherwise but he'll be damned if he ever lets you go.

you're all his.

and he's all yours <3

and yes, he will drool all over your chest like a baby so good luck with that :3

#ㅤㅤ✶ㅤ digitald0rk's library !#NEED TO ROLL HIM IN A BLANKET AND KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE HORRORS!!!!!#HE MAKES ME SICK UGH #mark grayson #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x reader #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #invincible x you #invincible fluff #mark grayson fluff #mark grayson fanfic #invincible

216 notes · View notes

fixated-cookies · 22 hours ago

Note

okay so hear me out y/n in a revealing outfit for shadow milk cookie and pure vanilla cookie to rate It and you can of course make It yandere :3

oooh, I was brainstorming really hard on this one mhm, I have so many interesting post in my askbox I'm so happy and grateful for you guys ahhhhh hearts!!!

WARNING- Yandere, outfit ripping,

Pure vanilla will definitely favour a light color palette, consisting of creams, white, soft pinks, or baby blues. Very dreamy. Shadow milk's got the opposite spectrum; dark blues with gothic influences. He wants to make you a living doll. Anyways let me skip to the part where we're all here for. Now...with Pure Vanilla seeing you in a revealing outfit, he'd cup your cheeks, eyes filled with awe. “Oh, my dear… You look divine" you’d see the slight dusting of pink across his cheeks—he’s not immune to fluster, even if he tries to be composed. If the outfit had a lot of frills or a dreamy, fairytale-like quality, he’d melt.

But if it’s too revealing, you might hear him gently clear his throat, his fingers subtly adjusting the fabric. “Ah, this design is rather… daring. But it suits you beautifully, even if I’d prefer something a touch more modest.” What can I say? The man is old-fashioned.

His rating? 9.5/10. He adores how angelic you look, but if the outfit is too immodest, he’ll definitely get a bit shy about it.

“Now this—” he drawls, circling you like a predator inspecting his prize, “—this is art.” He’d love the contrast of darker, bolder colors—deep purples, velvety blacks, even a dramatic splash of his very own blue. If the outfit has intricate designs, dramatic draping, or something teasing like sheer fabric, he’d be so pleased. “Ah, Pure Vanilla likes his little doll in soft pastels, does he? Tch. Predictable.” He tugs at the fabric slightly, admiring how it clings to you. “But this? This makes you look absolutely ruinable.”

His rating? 10/10. No complaints. None. It’s perfect. If anything, he’d probably start thinking of even more daring additions just to mess with you further. Their final thoughts? Pure Vanilla: “You don’t have to wear something so bold, little one… You’re already beautiful in anything.” Shadow Milk: "Oh, please. Let them enjoy the attention. Look at them—don’t they just shine under it?” But then, in a rare moment of agreement, their gazes darken at the same time. The outfit is pretty, yes… but wouldn’t it be even better if it was in pieces? Pure Vanilla tilts his head, feigning a thoughtful sigh. “This fabric is so delicate. I worry it might not last very long…” Shadow Milk grins, a sharp, wolfish smirk as he tugs teasingly at the hem. “Mm. A real shame.” His voice is dripping with amusement. “Wouldn’t it be so tragic if it just… fell apart?”

Before you can react, there’s the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

Pure Vanilla’s hands, gentle as they may seem, are deceptively strong as he easily pulls apart the fragile material at the seams. Shadow Milk, on the other hand, grip is ripping away excess fabric without a second thought. “Well,” Pure Vanilla murmurs, trailing a finger down your now-exposed skin, his smile far too composed for the situation. “I suppose that makes it a perfect 100/10.”

Shadow Milk’s breathy laugh is pure mischief. “See? Much better.” He flicks away the last bit of fabric clinging to you, watching as it flutters to the floor. “You should’ve just let us do this from the start.”

Outfit Rating? Doesn’t matter. The real fun is in ruining it -- I feel like this at this point I should just write my own characters because I think I'm ruining PV and SM, are they too out of character??? Like, I know PV would never do this but I just love the though of him hanging around SM and SM just becoming such a horrible menace and influence on him.

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk #crk x reader #yandere shadow milk #yandere shadow milk cookie #yandere pure vanilla #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie

168 notes · View notes

inthelibrarybtw · 1 day ago

Text

you want me to pretend? | three

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, teasing, college au, smau/irl

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 2.1k

authors note: I just want to thank everyone for all the love this has been getting, I love that you love them just as much as I do. Also thanks to @rafesbabygirlx for helping me decide what to do with this part.

02 | 03 | 04

Wednesday

He was shocked, to say the least. But he would be lying if he didn’t find it appealing. Also, even a bit cute that you had chosen to ask him for this out of all your friends.

“Wait, let me see if I got it right…” he paused. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a night?” He asked, still shocked and trying to see if you were joking. But you never joked, at least not with him.

“Yes,” he knew you weren’t joking now so he decided to take the teasing route.

“And what do I get from this?” he asked with a smirk on his face

“A free dinner?”

“Oh come on Y/N I know you can do better than that” he teased making you sigh

“I don’t know… what do you want?” you start to feel actual panic setting in. How were you supposed to convince him?

“I can think of a few things” he smirked, he was just making things difficult for fun, you didn’t find it funny.

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“It’s fun to see you annoyed” he smiled

“You are the worst”

“Hate me all you want but we both know it’s all fake or you wouldn’t be here” he had to suppress the urge to boop your nose knowing it was going to piss you off.

“I never said I hated you, you are just extremely annoying”

“I like to say I’m charming”

“Full of yourself”

“Who else am I supposed to be full of?” he lifted an eyebrow, and you sighed defeated.

“Rafe, please… I will owe you one no questions asked”

“Oh well now that you say that” he smirked again taking a few steps to get closer to you. “I might take you up on that princess” he changed his tone to a more flirty one

“You disgust me”

“Ah don’t be like that, I’m your boyfriend now” he wiggled his eyebrows. His smirk was still plastered on his face.

You felt a sense of relief at those words, he had agreed to help you.

“Thank you” you gave him a half smile

“Sure but I do have a few questions though”

“About?”

“Why did you have to look for a pretend boyfriend?”

“Long story”

“Will I ever know?”

“Maybe but not today.” you paused for a second “I’ll send you my location and let you know what I need you to do that day”

“Fine by me”

“Thank you again, really”

“Thank me after I have charmed your parents”

“Fine whatever, bye”

“Bye princess”

“Can you not?”

“You are my girlfriend now I have to be nice and sweet talk you” he smirked again, he was enjoying this a bit too much.

“Fake one, and for a night”

“Let me have my moment” You rolled your eyes and walked away.

He saw you walk away with a big smile on his face. He shook his head and chuckled to himself before going back to his practice.

Thursday

Today - Friday

You had been anxious since the moment you woke up. Kelce hadn’t shown up to statistics that day because he had gone out with Nicki according to him to end things finally. So you had been left alone to deal with Rafe on your own. Anyone would expect him to be solely focused on basketball since he was captain, but no, he truly cared for classes and his grades.

Just today he seemed a bit more chatty and you couldn’t wonder if it was because today was the day. Yes, THE day.

“So tell me, why don’t you want people to know?”

“Because I don’t. I’m not gonna tell people I had to look for a fake boyfriend because my parents pushed me to my limit”

“Ah so there is a reason, and here I thought you didn’t want to share”

“I said maybe so here I am, plus it seemed fair to tell you since you agreed to help me”

“Aw thanks” he put a hand over his chest pretending to feel touched. “So tell me more”

“My mom has been a bit worried I haven’t dated a guy in more than a year and lately she has been more pushy and all that so I lied saying I had been seeing this guy for the past two months to keep her quiet”

“And I’m guessing it didn’t work as you expected…”

“Yeah, they asked for his name and all”

“Okay wait…” he smirked “So you said my name?” You rolled your eyes and sighed. There was no point in denying it.

“Yes but only because you were texting the group chat nonstop and then to my chat so I panicked and said your name” he felt the honesty in your words but he was going to take the chance and tease you.

“No need to make excuses I feel honored that you thought of me”

“You love to have something to tease me with”

“Oh yes I do”

You kept the small talk for a bit more until it was time to work. You did all your classwork together and finished first.

“Okay so one more question, how did we meet? How did we start dating? I’m assuming they will ask questions” You turned to look at him; a sense of relief washed over you. He was going to help you.

“Yeah… let’s just say Kelce introduced us, which is the truth, and…” he cut you off

“He invited you to a game, he introduced us and we hit it off”

“Sound believable so it’s okay”

“Now hobbies, I know you like reading but like things we do together”

“Uh… watching movies, I guess I go to your games”

“That’s kind of a given, let’s say you are my lucky charm” he teases and you chuckle. You had to admit it, he was being more positive than what you had expected. Maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that horrible.

After the unexpected call, you continued with your stress-baking. It always helped you to take your mind off things and for the hour and a half hour that it took you to bake, you had accomplished not thinking about anything else. You noticed the time and decided to start getting ready.

You went to your room to get ready. The first thing you did was go through your closet to find something nice to wear, you settled on a floral dress you liked and called it a day. With your dress on you went to do your hair and after that, you sat down to put makeup on. As soon as you started doing your makeup and humming to the songs that were playing you got lost in the process and found comfort in something you did almost daily.

By the time you were done, it was almost time and the nerves settled in for good this time. As soon as the doorbell rang you felt a pit in your stomach. You took a deep breath and walked down to open the door.

When you got downstairs, your mom was about to open the door. You tried to hurry, but it was too late, and she was already opening it.

“Hello! You must be Rafe.”

“I am, nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand to her.

“Mom, I was going to get the door.” You finally entered his field of vision. He felt time stop for a second; you looked beautiful. You always looked put together, but today was different—your hair, the dress, the makeup; it was all different.

“Well, look at you, princess! You look beautiful,” he said as he walked in, kissing the top of your head. You gave him a soft smile. Meanwhile, your mom looked at the scene in front of her, her heart leaping at what she was seeing.

You felt extremely awkward, but after taking another deep breath, you took Rafe’s hand and guided him to your living room. For Rafe, the house felt cozy, and it made sense that you were how you were if you had grown up in a place like this.

When you walked into the living room, you were met by your dad reading something on his phone.

“Dad, this is Rafe… Rafe, this is my dad.” Your dad lifted his gaze and smiled as he stood up.

“Ah! You are the guy she hasn’t stopped talking about all week.” You hadn’t done it on purpose, but they had been asking a lot of questions about him, and you answered. Rafe just chuckled and squeezed your hand gently, as if marking that comment to tease you later.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the parents of this pretty girl,” your dad smiled at the comment.

“Come on, sit down,” your mom motioned to the couch.

“So, Y/N tells me you play basketball.”

“Yes, I have been captain since last year. It has been a great experience so far.”

With that, the conversation flowed. You still felt like you were in flight or fight mode, but seeing how Rafe was handling the situation was better than you had expected. You had moved to the dining room to have dinner, and the conversation had continued. Your parents had asked every question they could imagine. Now Rafe was telling the story of how you two had met.

“We have friends in common, and for a game, she was sitting with them in the stands, and I couldn’t stop looking at her during the whole game." He paused. "I had seen her in a class before and barely exchanged words, but I knew I had to talk to her. So at the end of the game, I asked one of our friends to introduce us, and he did.”

It was all half-truths; you two had met in a class, and that same week, you had gone to one of his games not knowing he was playing. You all had hung out that day after the game, and from that point forward, you two had, in a way, become friends—more acquaintances since you two never hung out just the two of you or talked outside of college and homework.

"That’s so sweet! Who is the friend?"

"Kelce," you both answered simultaneously.

"We’ll thank him next time we see him for bringing you into her life." At that moment, you panicked; no way that was happening.

"I’m going to make sure to tell him," Rafe said, reassuring your mom. You turned to look at him.

"You are a good one, Rafe," your mom said.

"Well..." you paused. "I’m going to bring the dessert."

"Do you need help?" Rafe asked, and you nodded. He excused himself and followed you to the kitchen. Once the two of you were out of earshot, he spoke.

"Your parents are great," he said as you pulled a berry cheesecake out of the fridge. "Oh wow, that looks amazing"

"They are, and thanks. I take pride in my baking," you smiled, setting the cheesecake on the counter to take out some new plates.

"You bake?"

"I do; it’s one of my hobbies."

"Hmm, you are full of surprises."

"What can I say?" you replied with a smile, exiting the kitchen.

He grabbed the cheesecake and brought it to the table as you placed the plates next to it. As soon as it was served and everyone was seated, the conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Everything that you hadn’t discussed how to answer came out naturally. During dinner, both you and he saw each other in a different light. You had learned so much about him thanks to your parents' questions, and he had learned so much about you from the way you interacted with your parents and from what your mom had told him about you.

He understood why it had been a big deal for your parents when you had told them about dating someone. You didn’t know, but your mom had shared a bit of the backstory, and it had made him feel some kind of way. He could see how much your mom cared for you, and seeing you so heartbroken last time had worried her. She didn’t want you to close yourself off before, so seeing him there had assured her you were going to be okay. He was never going to bring this up with you, even though he was curious about what had happened.

When everyone noticed the time, it was 9:25 PM. Rafe helped clear the table and began saying his goodbyes. You sighed silently; it was finally over, and it had gone great.

"Rafe, before you go, why don’t you come over on Sunday?" your dad asked right as he was about to leave. Your face dropped; this was supposed to be just one night.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @bee-43 @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

#inthelibrarywrites #YWMTP?#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #college!student!reader #college!basketball!captain!rafe #rafe smau #rafe cameron smau #college au #rafe fluff

148 notes · View notes

chuuyasheaven · 2 days ago

Text

“Take it all f’me.. that’s it, just like that baby.”

notes : idk I just came up with this last minute, a very quick drabble JUST for y’all ❤️

tags : chuuya n. / afab! reader, oral sex (eating out), fingering, dirty talk, basically pussy worship if u squint, praise, SHORT, uhhh idk, chuuya is a munch 🙂‍↕️, pet names (doll ; baby), slight cussing, grammar, etc.

“God, I’ll never get tired of this.”, Chuuya groaned lowly while being in between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it. All you could reply with was a moan, your back arching off the bed as he immediately dugged back into it, devouring your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “F-fuck— Chuuya.. mm—!”, you moaned out, your eyes shut as he continues to eat you out like a man starved. “Yeah, moan out my name like that, baby.. lemme hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”, he didn’t have to tell you twice, you’ve been doing this ever since he started.

The longer he kept eating you out like this, so needy and messy, the knot inside your stomach began to tighten. “Chuuya, I-I’m— ah!”, you tried telling him you were getting close but couldn’t form any sentences without moaning in between, which didn’t seem to matter since he knew what you were trying to say. “You gettin’ close, doll?”, he asked in a low whisper, pressing a quick kiss onto your clit, making you shiver slightly. “Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard right now..”, the way he growled that right against your pussy made you tremble under his grasp, making him smirk yet also twitch in his pants. “You want me to make you cum, baby?”, you nodded before he even got to finish his sentence, making him chuckle deeply. Then he pulled his mouth away from your cunt, making you whine at the loss while he licked his mouth clean.

Before you could ask why he stopped, he pushed two fingers inside you, making sure that they were deep inside. “Chuuya!”, you sharply gasped out, grabbing onto the sheets while throwing your head back. “Hm, such a good girl, takin’ my fingers so well.”, his fingers weren’t even moving slowly, they were appearing and disappearing fast. Your moans grew louder and higher as you started to chase your orgasm meanwhile Chuuya kept on mumbling dirty things and praises to you.

“Take it all f’me.. that’s it, just like that, baby.”

“Look at you, you love my fingers so fuckin’ deep inside you, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck.. if you’re takin’ my fingers so good, imagine how good my cock will feel, doll.”

And it didn’t take long after for you to cum on his fingers, moaning out his name in bliss as he sure that he definitely just came in his underwear just from the sight.

if you couldn’t tell, this was rushed 💔💔

#bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd chuuya #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara

134 notes · View notes

mandalhoerian · 2 days ago

Text

(2) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Eight years ago, during the worst summer festival of your life, you cross paths with a certain seal for the first time.

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

< previous | next (wip) >

note: YES, THIS IS A SERIES! I hope you'll bear with me as I'm not actively editing/proofreading my writing and am going with the flow for the most part. Rafayel will also stay as a seal in the next chapter which centers around how he came to be smitten with the reader, so PLEASE PLEASE HANG TIGHT WE'RE GETTING THERE. I hope you enjoy!!!!

Ah, sweet summer festival. You're fifteen.

The entire archipelago is in motion tonight — a grand spectacle brought to life in the unofficial capital Salverna, which is also where you were born and raised, by throngs of locals with visitors pouring in from the mainland for an evening of festivities. Decorated boats crawl like jeweled beetles across the bay beneath a moonbeam sky, torches flickering like amber blossoms amidst colorful lanterns suspended overhead, painting faces in warm splashes of light. Instruments are tuned to perfect pitch, ready to launch into jigs and reels once revelers spill into dancing rings. Children sprint around bonfires with cheeks flushed by sugar, laughter ringing like silver bells in the breeze. Farther along, games fill the streets — prizes stuffed inside balloons perched precariously atop slender sticks, targets waiting to be pierced by dart tips, bobbing heads eager for coins — competing for attention with the delectable aroma of spiced sausage, roasted meat, skewers, sticky cinnamon treats, and fresh fruit piled high for sampling. Even the night's salty breath tastes like sunshine, and despite everything feeling faintly familiar, somehow still manages to seem entirely fresh.

If only you'd been there from the beginning.

No, you were here. The whole day.

At the docks, which is the farthest away from the main event.

Hauling seafood and chasing down lost tourists like some unpaid festival guide.

The family ferry business consisting of multiple vessels is the only one making direct trips between the mainland and the archipelago. Usually, things run smoothly — your parents know this route like the back of their hands, and during normal weeks, the boats run on a fairly consistent schedule with only the occasional minor detour to accommodate delayed travelers. Renting smaller boats out to tourists helps maintain some steady income for maintenance expenses during quieter months, although the real money comes from transporting passengers year-round.

But big events like this summer festival change everything. The mainland port is overflowing with people packed like sardines in a tin, and everyone scrambles for transport space like sharks smelling blood. It's impossible to accommodate every arrival simultaneously, even though Dad doubled the ferry service to operate nearly nonstop — one boat shuttling incoming guests while its twin carries locals back and forth between islands, and even then it isn't enough. People are forced to wait hours for passage, which inevitably leads to chaos erupting.

And the locals ferry doesn't just transport passengers. It hauls festival supplies — crates of seasonal produce shipped to the islands via mainland distributors, stacks upon stacks of boxes labeled FRAGILE in thick black marker, paper fans for the parade, props for the pageant, a seemingly endless list of necessary items for the vendors, bands, food stands, street performers, the barrels of festival cider rolling onto the deck, stacks of pastries needing careful hands to avoid toppling, baskets of flowers meant for decorating stalls that nearly got crushed in the shuffle — you name it — the list of deliveries keeps growing by the hour. And no one has extra hands to spare to deliver all this cargo to its final destinations.

Well, actually, one person does. Namely, you.

It started small. Mom catching you right as you tried to slip away this morning, asking to help with boarding real quick, and if you could take some packages along the way... It was easy to agree, at first — help a few elderly tourists steady themselves as they stepped from the ferry, answer questions from confused festival-goers trying to navigate between islands, toss a sack or two over your shoulder for the vendor working nearby. But an hour later, you were hauling half a crate uphill when one of the wheels broke loose, scattering fireworks across cobblestones in glittering disarray, leaving you running through town chasing them all down under curious gazes of the locals who saw the explosion...

And the moment the ferry docked, suddenly it was all hands on deck. One trip in, another out. Then, next thing you knew, you were the one handling tickets and guiding stragglers toward their destination, organizing groups, shouting helpful tips about what to avoid and what not to eat so you are not about to have people get sick on board and clean off their vomit, answering questions about local attractions and restaurant specialties, calling out to Dad who drove the ferry like it was child's play, warning the older folks and kids not to fall off because the last thing your family really needs is to be sued by someone stupid falling overboard...

And the entire time, you were in the dress you'd picked out specifically for the occasion. Thinking one more trip, and you could finally join your friends in the festivities...

A whole shift later, there are no celebrations awaiting you. No bonfire parties with the music so loud and joyous you could feel it thrumming through the ground, no crowded bars filled to bursting with cheerful singing and dancing, no raffle stalls offering chances to win souvenirs and free meals for years, no fireworks bursting across the night sky so brilliant they chased away the darkness.

Just you with your dress ruined and ripped because someone couldn't watch where they were going while drunk and collided straight into you and left you soaked in cheap beer, and the hem of it torn apart from you desperately trying to fix your mistake after misplacing the boxes of merch you were supposed to haul, again. Your friends probably already enjoying every aspect of the event, laughing their asses off in pure delight without caring for what you missed or had endured all day, knowing you were supposed to arrive with them to witness the greatest part of the summer celebration together.

With angry tears gathering at the inner corners of your eyes, you let the bags drop onto the dock with a harsh thump, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Maybe you're expecting an argument. Maybe you want to pick a fight because the frustration had been stewing ever since you woke up today and demanded release. Or maybe you hope your father would give you permission to go enjoy your own life, rather than force you to suffer his. But none of those comes to pass. Instead, he merely glances up with a tired look, holding your resentful stare before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face wearily with calloused, wrinkled hands.

“You said it would be quick,” you snap, voice shaking. “You said I could go like hours ago. The day is over!"

You choke back the wobble in your tone, biting harshly into your lower lip, hoping it'll prevent tears from leaking out even though it hardly hurts enough to distract you.

"Look, we're in the middle of peak season..."

"Which means peak profit for our business! Couldn't you have just hired someone extra to fill in?! Why did it have to be me?!"

"No other staff is available on such a short notice, especially during a big event." Dad shrugs weakly in apology, the gesture lacking any defensiveness or remorse. He looks drained, exhausted. And still, his priorities remain firmly fixed elsewhere. "Sorry, honey. Next week I'm hiring additional staff permanently, but for now — just one more hour, okay? You know we don't extend our services after the night falls and that's why—"

“No!” The frustration spills over before you can swallow it down. “It’s never ‘just a little longer.’ It’s always one more trip, one more errand, one more thing! I’m always the one stuck here!”

Dad frowns and straightens his spine slowly like a looming anime villain, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't raise your tone on me like that, I'm not one of your little friends. This is nothing. When you become captain, you'll have to endure far more work."

"I did everything you ask and suddenly my tone is the issue?!" You gesture wildly at your ruined dress, at the damp stains and torn fabric clinging to your skin. “Look at me! I was supposed to be there with everyone else, and now I can’t even show up like this—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Dad's voice turns sharp, exasperated. “It’s just a dress.”

"And now everyone probably hates me because I've skipped yet another celebration and ghosted them!" you huff and puff like an enraged bull despite his interruption.

"What's going on?" Mom hurries over from the harbor shop, stepping between you and your father before tempers flare even further. She takes in the scene at a glance and sighs deeply — though whether out of disappointment or irritation, you can't tell — carefully setting aside several stacks of receipts. "Are you two seriously bickering about nonsense when you should both be working?"

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m sick of this!” You throw your hands into the cold, humid sea breeze as though casting your complaints upon the tides, unable to keep the tremble from your fingers or the tears from streaking down your face. Hot drops patter against the faded wood planks beneath your feet. "“I work just as hard as you do, I never say no, but the second I want something for myself—"

Mom immediately gets what's going on, and alerts you to lower your voice by pointedly widening her eyes and thinning her lips. The entire dock is witnessing the argument and turning their heads to listen in at this point, but you don't care. Everybody should hear about this injustice.

"Yes, honey, I know," Mom hisses, "And we appreciate how hard you're trying, believe me. But — just one more trip, alright? Your friends will wait a bit longer for you, won’t they? Don't forget this isn't just about you. The archipelago depends on us running our business steadily and reliably."

And there it is. That unspoken expectation, that quiet assumption that you’ll always choose responsibility over what you want. That you’ll always understand.

Your throat tightens, choking back the bitterness burning in the pit of your stomach, and for a long moment, neither you nor your mom break the silence, and her stare remains fixed somewhere above your shoulder. Only Dad says anything, grunting a vague affirmative that tells you nothing more than your mother did; work must come first, whatever personal sacrifice must be made for that to happen.

You step back. “Forget it.”

“Honey—”

“I said forget it!”

You're running hot and cold, the rush of blood in your ears don't let your parents' protests in as you rush into the only place where you can be alone right now, the ticket counter cabin with the "CLOSED" sign on it, slamming the door shut behind you loudly and letting the cool glass barrier isolate you from the rest of reality. It's just you inside. There's a desk, empty paperwork piled neatly at the corner, a cash register. An old computer screen covered by dust. Shelves crammed with stacked-up folders and manuals. A window overlooking the harbor. This is also the place to leave your belongings at before clocking into work, just beside the locker of where the attendant usually leaves theirs.

On a whim, you snatch up your jacket and backpack before fleeing out into the crowd again. It's so easy to lose your parents along the wharf because of the teeming masses.

Your phone is buzzing rapidly in your bag with Dad and Mom both probably threatening to drag you back by your ear, so you take it out and switch to airplane mode before tossing it back in with a grimace. You're not allowed to be out this late without supervision (much less sneaking away from work), but right now, there's not an adult in existence that could compel you to walk willingly back into this mess. Screw it. Being grounded for life isn't any worse than being imprisoned on this stupid island forever anyway, you think, huffing quietly in protest as you stomp down the street. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you can spend some time with Aunt Leen. At least she wouldn't judge.

The festival feels a million miles away. You can’t go there, not in this state, stains everywhere, smelling like fish and sweat and regret, dress ripped apart. So, instead, you end up wandering along the rocky beach near the outer edge of town, in parallel to the protected seal rookery islet offshore and well beyond the boundaries of the town proper. The bright, swirling glow of the firework display across the water glints in the dark, mingling with distant stars and overshadowing the full moon, reflecting off rippling waters like flickering embers dancing across a glossy obsidian surface. The waves roll gently across sand and stone in soothing rhythmic whispers whooshes that pull you onward through the night like invisible ribbons drawing you back into the present.

This was always your favorite place as a child — wild and beautiful. An unclaimed stretch of wilderness stretching beyond the public access point, filled with coves and tide pools that felt like hidden kingdoms tucked away from the rest of the world. Here, among the jagged rocks, washed smooth by centuries of ebbing currents, you sit on one flat boulder, bare feet lapped at by the high tide and shoes by your side, frustrated tears dropping into the sea, staring absently off towards the seal islet floating peacefully in the distance.

You remember trying to swim out there years ago, despite having been strictly forbidden from venturing close to not disturb them. What would it be like, to be out in the open sea instead of tied to this isolated little community? To see something other than the same faces, places, and names repeated ad nauseam for all eternity, as though nothing changed no matter how many seasons passed? What would it take to break free?

"Ugh!" The sound bursts free before you can clamp your jaw shut, a ragged groan against clenched teeth as your palms scrub fiercely across your damp, salty cheeks.

Before you can start ranting into the night like a madman, your turmoil is shattered by a sudden, piercing cry like metal scraping stone ripping through your tangled thoughts. Your head jerks upward, pulse quickening into a painful drum-beat. Something is terribly off. Someone's hurt, panicking—or worse—maybe drowning?

But where?

You blink frantically, scanning the surrounding coastline, but the thick curtain of night refuses to offer clues. So you rely on your ears and follow the keening through the beach, stumbling hastily across damp sand, uneven rocks and slippery seaweed patches alike, nearly slipping on slimy barnacles embedded in the crevices between each massive stone and fighting hard to balance every step, all the while ignoring the scrapes accumulating on your soles from sharp pebbles digging into tender flesh and flaring in protest at every bit of impact.

Then, unmistakably—

A high-pitched, squealing shriek erupts out of the ocean — like the frantic deflating of a balloon twisting violently apart in midair.

Your stomach drops. The sound is frantic, terrified. Unmistakably animal.

And it's coming directly from the water.

At last, you spot the source of the commotion — about fifty feet offshore, just beyond a tangle of blackened driftwood clogging the shallows: Moonlight catches on slick, gray fur, the seal’s body bobbing helplessly, its hysteric movements hampered by the thick snare of a fishing net and heavy with debris, the tangled mess constricts tight, dragging it downward each time it fights to resurface.

Seals can drown. You know that much. You’ve heard Elias muttering to Dad, thick with disgust, after cutting loose yet another pup ensnared by abandoned traps — relics of poachers who refuse to acknowledge sealing was banned around here nearly thirty years ago.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Your mind stutters, paralyzed for a breathless instant. What do I do? What do I do?

There’s no time to think.

You’re moving before reason catches up, scrambling over slick, uneven rocks as brine stings the scrapes blooming across your bare feet. Your pulse slams against your ribs. In one frantic motion, you strip off your windbreaker, fling your bag aside, and plunge into the waves without hesitation. Salt explodes in a cool rush over your skin as you kick off from the seafloor, paddling hard, muscles burning with every stroke.

Next thing you know, your arms are locked tight around the drowning seal, grappling to haul it toward shore as it thrashes wildly, overwrought beyond reason and twisting all it can to land a blow with brutal strength you wouldn't expect from a round and inflexible body like that. Flippers beat against your chest, claws scrape at your arms, and its ragged cries tear through the night like something feral and furious. It doesn’t understand you’re trying to help — it only knows fear.

Somehow, impossibly, you make it.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest as you drag the tangled pup onto the shore, collapsing beside it in a gasping sprawl, limbs weak and trembling. Your lungs gulp down air that tastes like victory, the sweetest breath you've ever taken.

And then—

The seal’s shrieks reach a fevered pitch. It flails vigorously, flinging itself against the unyielding net, snapping, fighting, tearing at the fibers with blind desperation.

That’s when you see it.

The moon-desaturated dark liquid pooling beneath its body, sinking into the wet sand in sluggish tendrils.

Blood.

"No! Stop that, stop!"

You scramble upright, stomach at your throat, hands grabbing frantically at the writhing seal to keep it from thrashing itself into worse injury.

"Hey, hey — settle down! Stop moving — please! You're making it worse!"

It doesn’t listen. It fights harder.

Panic and instinct are what fuels its every move, and the more you hold on, the more fiercely it resists, wails cutting straight to the center of your chest, high and desperate, feeding your own fear in a vicious cycle. Its pulse is hammering beneath your hands, a wild, terrified beating of a bird's wings matching your own as its breaths come fast, erratic, interrupted by harsh snorts and shuddering yelps. The pup is almost one singular muscle beneath your grip, trembling and taut with the primal need to flee.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," you chant, the words spilling out in a frantic loop, cracking under the weight of utter desperation of not knowing what to do even as you're repeating you're there to helo. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me help — please — fuck, what do I do — ow!"

Pain explodes up your right forearm before the scream even leaves your throat.

Teeth. Deep. Sinking into muscle like fire.

Your body jolts with the instinct to yank away, but you don’t. You can’t. One wrong move and you’ll scare it even more, maybe make it clamp down harder. Tears blur your vision, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bite your own molars together, forcing yourself to go still.

And then — so does the seal.

The aggressive lashing out ceases, replaced by eerie, frozen silence. Its nostrils flare against your skin, warm breath feathering across the bite, making the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your pulse pounds between your teeth, the sting of the wound dulling under the weight of something more pressing — its eyes.

Two inky pools, round and bottomless, reflecting your fractured likeness like tiny mirrors.

"Please," you whisper, shaky, but soft. "I just want to help. You're safe. I won’t hurt you."

The grip on your arm doesn't tighten. Doesn't loosen. The only thing left between you is the weight of your words and the fragile, fragile stillness.

"Let me go," you murmur, swallowing hard. "And we’ll fix this. Okay?"

There's a pause, a single, terrifying moment suspended in time. Then, the seal's jaws relax, and he releases his painful grip on your throbbing arm, and as quickly as the assault began, it ends. Blood rushes forth in a thin rivulet down your wrist and between your fingers. It doesn't really hurt, not compared to the dull ache in the rest of your exhausted body, and the relief that washes over you is so profound that you're momentarily dizzy from it. And yet... The fact that the seal has calmed down means everything.

"It's okay, it’s okay, don't worry about it," you say hurriedly, intended for yourself more than anything so you wouldn't freak out about it. "You were scared, that's all. It's not your fault."

But the pup isn’t looking at the net.

Its gaze is locked onto your arm, the blood pooling at the wound, round, ink-dark eyes impossibly wider, focused in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You stare at him, and for a fleeting, impossible second, it feels like he understands. Like he knows what he did. Awe prickles through you, pushing aside the pain, the exhaustion, everything.

Seals are intelligent — you’ve always known that — but this is so magical to experience how emotionally aware they are.

"Hey. Hey, I’m fine, buddy," you insist. "Look at me, look. I'm good, it’s just a scratch. Let's focus on getting that net off, yeah? Can't have you swimming away in that state. You’ll drown."

As you lean in to inspect, the pup shies away initially, clearly wary and distrustful, but eventually allows you to examine the tangled mess of knots and lines ensnaring his sleek, streamlined figure. The heavy, dense debris he's wrapped in like a blanket is making it impossible to unravel anything, and the more you try to remove it, the tighter the bindings grow. Your injured arm is growing numb, which is probably not a good sign, but there's no time to dwell on that now.

Frustrated and increasingly anxious, you search frantically for something in your backpack to use as scissors or a knife, but the jerky movements make the pup tense up, its tail slapping nervously in the sand, and you have to take several calming breaths to prevent scaring him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. I'll be gentler," you promise in a rush. "Just bear with me, okay?"

All you can find is your nail clippers, but they'll have to suffice. With painstaking care, you snip away at the individual strands binding the pup's limbs together, pausing every few moments to reassure him that everything is alright, that it will survive and go back to the rookery islet. Its fur is wet and matted with blood beneath the ropes, and the sight sends a fresh surge of anger through your veins at the thought of whoever abandoned such a careless trap in the ocean.

"Almost got it, buddy, almost, you're doing great," you sniffle, working steadily to free its front flippers. They're the most delicate and prone to injuries, according to Elias. "One last cut and..."

With a soft pop, the final strand gives way and the net falls loose, the release of pressure causing the seal to scramble sideways and flop awkwardly onto his belly in a clumsy roll. It lies there motionless for a brief second before letting out a piercing, mournful wail that stabs at the pit of your stomach.

You drop your tool and fall to your knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly over its body. You don't dare touch, afraid of hurting it further. In a burst of energy, the pup pushes itself upright, body wiggling and coiling to propel it forward in a frantic dash towards the safety of the sea. You watch helplessly, unable to move or think or react in any way, until it pauses halfway to the shoreline and glances back at you, a low whine emanating from his throat.

"Go on, get out of here," you urge him, waving it onward. "Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? You've had enough close calls today." A pang of dread hits you, realizing how much danger the pup was already in and how lucky it had been that you happened to be nearby to save it from a terrible fate. But now, all you can do is let it return to its natural environment. "Be free, cutie," you say quietly. "Live well and happy. You deserve better than this."

The pup hesitates, still watching you with those soulful, inscrutable black eyes. Then, in an act that leaves you speechless, it turns and galumphs back to your side, lowering its head and nudging its muzzle against the bleeding gash on your forearm. When it pulls away, his whiskers are slick with red, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelms you.

"Oh, you angel," you manage, a lump forming in your throat. The urge to viciously pet his head is strong, but this isn’t a cat or a dog. Your arm really might get bitten off from the elbow socket. "Now scram. I'm sure your mama is worried about you."

This time, the seal does as instructed. It slides gracefully down the sandy slope and slips into the waves, vanishing from view in an instant. Only a small trail of blood remains, mingling with the foam and seawater that wash over the shore, evidence of the ordeal endured by this remarkable creature wiped away in an instant by the protective hands of the sea.

The shock of it all, of the stress and adrenaline, finally catches up to you and you collapse backwards in the sand, the pain in your arm flaring once again and only now feeling the cuts on the bottom of your feet.

Shaken to your bones in a way you can’t quite name, your fingers fumble to switch off airplane mode before you even realize what you’re doing. The moment the call connects, you’re babbling into the phone, voice thick with tears, words tangled and frantic. Mom struggles to make sense of you, but it doesn’t take long for her to find you — half an hour later, sprawled on the ground, your windbreaker haphazardly draped over your shoulders, backpack wedged beneath your head. The gash on your arm is wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, one of your old bandanas knotted tightly around the wound.

If Dad’s ferry hadn’t been stuck in the harbor, he would’ve been here too. No doubt about it.

You get an earful the moment she kneels beside you. Irresponsible. Reckless. Running off without telling anyone. Dad would’ve had a heart attack if things had gone any worse. Yes, yes, yes. You let her words wash over you, nodding at the right moments, too drained to do anything else. Her hugs and kisses make up plenty for it.

Neither of you bring up the fight. Neither of you need to. Some things are easier left unspoken.

She doesn’t mention the festival, either. But you both know what kind of rumors will be swirling by morning.

For now, you're taken to the local clinic and given a rabies and a tetanus shot, and a lecture from the nurse who treated you, warning you to never approach a wild animal again because the next time, you might not be as lucky.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds

132 notes · View notes

folkwhoreberry · 1 day ago

Text

Earned It, Owned It

dad!fernando alonso x daughter!reader

or... the one where there’s no shame in the name

word count : 956

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : I love it by icona pop & charlie xcx

request

🥷🏻🇪🇸

the paddock was buzzing, as it always was on a race weekend. you had just finished checking over some final details in the garage when you were pulled aside by one of the media teams. it wasn’t unusual - being fernando alonso’s daughter came with a certain level of attention. you didn’t mind it, though. it was part of the job.

“just a quick interview?” one of the journalists asked with a smile that you knew was supposed to look friendly but carried a hint of something else. they always wanted more than just a quick chat, but you nodded anyway, knowing exactly where this was going.

you stood in front of the camera, adjusting your aston martin polo, and gave them a nod to let them know you were ready. the questions started easy, asking about the team, how preparations were going for the race, the usual pre-race chatter. you answered with the same professionalism you always did, keeping things light.

and then, it came.

“so, some people have said that your position here is thanks to… well, your father’s legacy in formula 1. what do you have to say to those accusations of nepotism?”

you couldn’t help but smirk. there it was. the question they were all waiting to ask. you could see the glint in the reporter’s eyes, hoping you’d squirm, hoping you’d try to defend yourself or make some grand statement about your qualifications.

but you weren’t about to give them that.

“honestly?” you started, your smirk widening. “yeah, I’m a nepo baby. no denying it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take advantage of having a two-time world champion for a dad?” you shrugged, your tone light, completely unbothered. “I’m proud of it, honestly. got me here, didn’t it?”

the reporter blinked, clearly taken aback by your response. they hadn’t expected you to lean into it so hard. you could almost hear the gears turning in their head as they tried to figure out how to follow up.

“so… you admit that your father helped you get your position?” they pressed, clearly unsure of where this was going.

“of course,” you said with a laugh. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend that growing up around formula 1 didn’t give me an advantage. but here’s the thing - having connections might get you in the door, but it doesn’t keep you here. I work hard. I know my stuff. and if people want to focus on my last name instead of what I actually do, that’s their problem, not mine.”

you glanced to the side, noticing your dad approaching, clearly having overheard the last part of the interview. he had that signature fernando alonso grin on his face, the one that told you he was ready to stir the pot just a little bit more.

“am I interrupting?” he asked, stepping into the frame with you, his arm casually slung over your shoulder. “what’s going on here?”

“oh, nothing much,” you said, smiling at him. “just addressing the usual nepotism accusations.”

fernando raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “nepotism? ah, yes. my daughter, the nepo baby.” he said the term with a playful roll of his eyes. “is that what they’re calling you now?”

“apparently.” you shrugged, still grinning. “but I was just telling them I don’t mind. being a nepo baby’s not so bad.”

fernando laughed, looking directly into the camera now. “well, if being a nepo baby means you’re good at your job and work as hard as she does, then I guess I’ll take credit for it,” he said, giving you a proud look. “but really, she’s the one putting in the work. I just gave her the love of the sport.”

“so, you’re not concerned about the claims that your daughter only has her position because of your influence?” the reporter asked, clearly trying to stir things up between the two of you.

fernando chuckled, shaking his head. “not at all. I know how much she’s done to get here. I might’ve opened some doors, but she’s the one who walked through them - and keeps walking.” he gave you a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile at his response.

“besides,” you chimed in, “if I wasn’t good at what I do, I wouldn’t still be here. this is formula 1. it’s not exactly a place where you can coast by on your last name. my dad knows that better than anyone.”

fernando nodded in agreement. “exactly. you don’t stay in this sport unless you’ve got the skills to back it up.”

the reporter, clearly realizing they weren’t going to get the reaction they were hoping for, tried to wrap things up. “well, it’s clear you both have a strong bond. thank you for your time, and good luck with the race this weekend.”

you smiled, already moving to step away from the interview. “thanks, appreciate it,” you said, giving them a small wave before turning back to your dad.

as you walked away together, you could feel the eyes of the paddock on you, but it didn’t bother you. you were used to it by now. and honestly? you wouldn’t change a thing. you were proud of where you came from, proud of what you had achieved, and if people wanted to call you a nepo baby, so be it.

you’d own it - just like you owned everything else in this sport.

“you handled that well,” fernando said with a grin, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “i think you might’ve even thrown them off a bit.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “yeah, well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

“damn right,” he said with a wink. “now, let’s go get back to work.”

————————————————————————————

a/n : little miss alonso is living my dream bc I want to be a nepo baby sooo bad

#folkwhoreberry #f1 #f1 x reader #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x y/n #x reader

84 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

Text

These Foolish Things 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: you're married to a man who isn't very good at hearing no.

Note: Here's our golden god.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your eyes nearly cross as you squint at the endless columns. Your shoulders are almost at your ears, jaw locked, forehead furrowed as you try to unravel the riddle. You need to make cuts.

You reach for your coffee and spit it back into the cup as you find it cold and stale. You groan and put it down heavily. Blech.

A knock brings your gaze up but you stay rigidly hunched behind your screen. You explicitly told everyone not to disturb you. You growl, "come in."

"Sorry, ma'am," Priya, the intern, pokes her head through, "but you have a visitor."

"Not right--"

Before you can protest, she stumbles inside, out of the ray of the bouncing blond giant lumbering into your office. You sigh and sit up as your husband sweeps in with the scent of vanilla and the crinkle of a paper bag. You signal to Priya to go but she's too enamoured by the godly figure.

"My darling wife!" Thor proclaims, "I have brought you treasures."

Priya watches with a vacant look. You clear your throat, "Priya, if you will."

She flinches and finally tears her gaze from the Asgardian intruder. "Sorry, ma'am."

She flits out and Thor chuckles. He's certain to elbow the door shut as she goes. His blue eyes sparkle as you watch him placidly.

"Ma'am?" He shakes his head, "your highness."

He strides over and sets down a cup and bag before you, "lemon square and vanilla oat, special delivery."

"You are too sweet," you say. "Thank you."

"And you are tense," he turns your chair and grabs your shoulders, kneading them. "Your jaw is about to break."

You visibly ease the clench and force a smile, "it's the end of the fiscal."

"Oh, my queen, I do love when you speak of business," he purrs and pets your chin.

"Thor," you catch his large hands, "I'm sorry but I really can't--"

"Yes, I know, you have your duties," he slips free and cradles your face. "I only thought to bring some brightness to your day."

This time, you smile. For real. You're not a curmudgeon, you just get bogged down in the details. He's more of a bigger picture sort of person. He'll clean up the little things once he's blown them to bits.

"Nothing important," you assure him. "Not saving the universe or anything."

He chortles and bends to kiss you. There's longing in his lips. He growls and it rolls like thunder. You brush his beard as he reluctantly draws away.

"Hm, yes, well, you've lots of heroes around here," he backs up to fumble with your paper weight. A crystal dove. "I feel as if I've been forgotten."

"Oh, honey," you say. "I'm sorry, but we need you. It's just... they don't need you dealing with the small-timers."

"I could use the exercise," he huffs.

You turn back to your monitor, "me too. Too many lemon squares."

"Do not besmirch my own wife," he girds. You laugh and narrow your eyes at the faded font. "What is it? You are perturbed."

"Nothing, just," you try to angle your screen "the sun is reflecting on the spreadsheet."

"Ah, damned sun," he tuts and crosses his arms.

The office dims to grey and the sudden patter of rain hits the windows behind you. You look at him and tilt your head, "Thor, I don't have my raincoat."

"When is the last time you danced in the rain? It is good for the soul."

You shake your head. It was only with him that you did such ridiculous things.

"You always like the rain," he says.

"Yes, when I am at home with a good book," you retort.

"And that is how I prefer it too. Right in my lap--"

"Thor," you warn him and shift in your chair.

He laughs again and his blue eyes flare, "I miss you, my queen. I miss the taste of you."

"It's been..." you lean back and check your watch, "six hours."

"Far too long for an Asgardian," he tisks, "we get backed up."

"Tell me about it," you roll your eyes. "I don't think you are ever satisfied."

"With you, wife, always," he grins.

"Alright, I really need to get this done," you insist.

"You should not be so tense," he reproaches.

"I will not be once I get this over with."

"Let me ease you, my queen."

"I told you--"

"Ah, you may continue your work," he shows his large palm. "Let me just... tend to you."

He gets to his knees. Your eyes round. You shake your head and lock your knees together. You know exactly what he's thinking.

"If you think you can bribe me with coffee--"

"Bribe? Wife, I am claiming my husbandly rights," he puts his hands to the floor and crawls toward you, "so do not keep my prize from me."

"Thor!" You catch your voice before it can peak.

He growls again and grabs your calves. Why the hell did you wear a dress? His strength is too much. You barely put up a fight knowing he can overpower you.

He turns you, angling himself under your desk, quite comically as his large figure curls as small as it can. You brace the desk as he pulls you in and pries apart your knees. You yelp and smother your mouth.

"Go on and do your work," he bids as he pulls your skirt over his head.

You gnash your teeth around a reproach and clutch your mouse. You keep your other hand under your chin and blink at the monitor. His hot breath grazes the front of your panties. Your thighs quiver and he turns to kiss your tender flesh. You shiver and stretch your fingers up over your mouth.

He nuzzles you through the thin satin panties and you squirm. You bend your knuckle and bite it as he soaks through the fabric, lapping at it teasingly until it sticks to your folds. Finally, he traces a finger up your thigh and pulls aside the barrier between you. He delves into you without restraint.

You jolt in your chair and hiss through your teeth. Your eyes threaten to roll back as the lines of the spreadsheet blur. Goddamn this man. Always getting in your way.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #drabble #these foolish things #mcu #marvel #avengers

102 notes · View notes

satsugacafe · 17 hours ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: This has been on my mind for quite a long time, and I needed to get the idea out there, otherwise it would start collecting dust.

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: (18+) content, fem!reader, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, clit slapping (teeny-weeny), creampie, smut with plot, dirty talking (more like sweet talking cuz it’s Shunsui), non-established relationship (friends)

➳❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.5k

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: Refusing to let his image be ruined by your assumptions, Kyoraku, ever the charmer, was more than thrilled to let you indulge in the best of what he offered with extra teasing for his favourite girl.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The air in Kyoraku’s office was thick with the scent of warm sake and the lingering sandalwood incense. You sat opposite him on the plush cushions he usually stored in his office for you, Captain’s haori still covering you, crisscrossed with a cup of sake in hand. The porcelain cup swirled between your fingers before you brought it to your lips and gulped the remaining sweet-tasting wine, humming at the smoothness of Kyoraku’s recent choice. Only because you preferred sweeter-tasting wine, he started indulging in your selective palate. Otherwise, it would be his typical bitter-sweet saké he consumed on a regular basis.

Sitting across from you, he lounged in his usually carefree manner, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, elbow propped against the pile of cushions and fingers lazily tracing the rim of his cup. His hat was off, letting his hair down, a sight so rare, even with you, his dearly, beloved favourite person to harass—yet he appeared more at ease as his chestnut hair cascaded over his shoulders. His hairpins were resting on the desk behind him, along with his floral kimono and Captain’s robe—he lounged before you in just his Shihakusho. From where you sat, with the light filtering through the shutters, the plains of his exposed chest, covered in his chestnut hair, appeared more muscular and cushioned than usual.

A perfect picture of relaxation.

Which made it all the more entertaining to disrupt.

Glancing at him through your lashes as you set your cup down, you cleared your throat. “You know,” you mused with a clear penchant for mischief, “I made a little trip to the red-light district yesterday.”

Dark eyes, half-lidded with their usual indolence flickered upwards to meet yours with mild curiosity. You caught his attention loud and clear. “Oh? And what, may I ask, was the occasion?”

“My sister, of course. She’s still the most expensive Oiran in the district. Naturally, I had to stop by and see how she was doing,” you hummed, slowly pouring yourself another cup of wine.

“Ah,” he exhaled with an amused grin. “That explains it. I was beginning to wonder if you’d gone to…indulge yourself when you could have come to me.”

Rolling your eyes at his typical comment, you lifted your cup to your lips for a strong sip. Humming as the warmth seeped through you, you darted your tongue out to catch a stray droplet that escaped your mouth, something Kyoraku noticed and arched a brow at. You made nothing of the action. “Indulging would’ve been interesting, but I was more entertained by the conversations I overheard.”

“Oh?” Kyoraku prompted, his smile deepening as if he had an idea of where the conversation was heading. “And what little tales were being spun yesterday?”

You leaned in slightly, setting your cup aside and resting your chin on your palms as you regarded him. “The ladies from the other houses seemed to be quite taken with you.”

“Ah, that’s nothing new. A man can’t help it if he’s well-loved,” he chuckled and shifted slightly.

“Yes, yes,” you drawled, “but what really caught my attention was how they went on and on about your cock.”

Your words had Kyoraku choking on his sake. In a fit of sputters, he placed his cup down on the lacquered tray with a quiet thud, shoulders shaking with a mixture of laughter and coughs. He fought to gain control, casting you a look of amusement and bewilderment once he was able to. “My, my,” he wheezed, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “I wasn’t expecting such an…explicit topic of discussion.”

“Oh please, you shouldn’t be surprised since everything ends up becoming explicit when you’re around,” you teased with a grin. “Apparently, it’s quite the talk of the district. Big, thick, hard to take—the usual.”

Kyoraku exhaled with a single laugh, shaking his head at your description. “What can I say? I’m a generous man.”

Waving your hand at him dismissively, you leaned forward a little more. “Yeah, I’m aware, but—” you lowered your voice with a note of exaggerated scepticism, “—not a single one of them mentioned your skills.”

It was then, he stilled for a fraction of a second, though his expression remained one of easy amusement. This urged you to continue. So, resting your elbows on the table between you, bringing your face near enough that you could see the faintest flicker of curiosity in his sweet, brown eyes, you pursed your lips. “I find it strange. You frequent the district so often enough, and yet, not a single lady had anything to say about how good you are in bed. Just your size. So it makes me wonder…”

“And what exactly are you wondering, sweetheart?” he encouraged, arching a brow in a lazed motion.

“Are the rumours false? Do you actually have nothing but size going for you?” you pondered as though you trying to crack a mystery. “Or—” You reached out like a cat to trail your fingertips against the rim of his cup, gauging his expression through your lashes as you looked up. “—are the rumours about your skill completely exaggerated?”

“A rather bold line of questioning,” he murmured with his eyes heavily set on you, pupils slowly dilating as the minutes dwindled into seconds. “Either I’m all size and no skills, or very little skills.”

You smirked. “I just find it hard to believe, that’s all. A man’s size alone isn’t enough to make him a legend in the red-light district. And yet, here you are, whispered about like some kind of forbidden pleasure,” you dramatically sighed. “A man as lazy as you does nothing more than lie back and let your size do all the work.”

For a moment, a still silence fell over you two. The distant sounds of his men practising in the courtyard could be heard, followed by the gentle tapping of the wisteria against the window. Then, like a predator, he shortened the gap between you, his lips parting for his tongue to lick at the corners before he exhaled. The scent of cherry-flavoured saké on his breath. “And what would you do if you found out?”

You tilted your head innocently. “Depends on the answer.”

“Careful now, Captain,” he purred. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

Licking your lips as your eyes darted from his mouth back to his eyes, darkened with his pupils now full-blown. “Oh please. I can handle it just fine. If anything, I bet I’d be disappointed.”

That did it. It was enough challenge to set the man before you, ablaze. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, warmer and more intense. You could have sworn you felt a bead of perspiration running down your collarbone and into the confinements of your Shihakusho. Your stomach was performing cartwheels the longer you held his eye contact, your pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation. Gently, ever so tenderly, his hand stretched over the table, as though it had evaporated between you, and cupped your jaw, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hungry, yet controlled, stare.

“Is that so?” His voice had dropped, sounding as though he was pouring caramel all over you, despite the edge of challenge. “Then would you care to test that theory, sweetheart?”

You knew better than to accept challenges around Shunsui. The man was a natural at whatever he attempted, and worse yet, anything involving intimacy, he was a professional. You should have shaken your head, laughed him off, and told him that this little leisurely moment was over. Instead, something inside you burned with the desire to prove him wrong, to wipe the smug look off his face. But the way his hand gripped your jaw, his calloused fingers pressing into your skin stirred a heat in your core, leading to a small trickle of your arousal leaking out. “That depends,” you breathed heavily, working up the courage to return his game by running your fingers along the edge of his kosode. “Are you confident you’ll leave me speechless with your so-called skills?”

Using his free hand to push the low table aside, now nothing stood between you both, he knelt over you, hand still cupping your jaw. “Oh darling,” he purred and leaned in to brush his nose against yours, making your stomach drop. “I guarantee it.”

“Big words,” you scoffed, trying to uphold your big-girl attitude.

Bumping his nose against yours, before trailing it across your cheek to run it along your jawline, his lips stopped just at the corner of your mouth. “Experience, darling. Experience.”

“Fine, then,” you challenged. “Prove me wrong.”

And that was how you found yourself exactly where you were now—spread out on the cushions, hakama discarded on the tatami floor, kosode pulled apart to expose your breasts, while Kyoraku held you open and leisurely fucked you into complete submission. Your knuckles nearly cramped on you from how hard you were gripping the cushions, fingers grasping desperately for purchase as your body trembled under the slow, deliberate pace he set. The thick weight of his cock stretched your walls, moulding them to take his shape—permanently—and spreading you open with every drag of his length. The sensation was too much, yet too good. He was so deep, and you refused to acknowledge this, but your body betrayed you.

Your pussy betrayed you.

The first few inches in and she seized up on you, gushing a torrential of juices all over his abdomen, cock and balls. “You were saying?” he teased as his lips curved into a lazy grin, but his eyes burned with satisfaction as he watched you struggle to keep up. “Didn’t even last five seconds before you started squirting all over me. What happened to being unimpressed?” The rich, audacious and humorous laughter that echoed from his lips sunk you into humiliation. Fucking hell, you were done for before you had even started.

Your Captain’s robe was still hanging off your body, a small symbol of dignity to hang on to while he fucked you stupid. One leg over his shoulder, your ankle dangling by his ear, while the other was hooked around his waist, heel digging into his lower back to unintentionally keep him from leaving the warmth of your pussy.

He was between your legs, his calloused hands gripping your thighs so deliciously, leaving his thumb imprints to bloom purple bruises—his signature as a constant reminder to never forget the mess he was about to leave you in. His entire uniform was removed, and haphazardly thrown across the floor, not bothering should someone enter his office and witness the sight of two captains entangled on the floor. His sole focus was watching the way your pussy gripped and swallowed his cock like it was starving for ages. The clear look of satisfaction in his lustful eyes left him smug.

“What was that you said earlier, sweetheart?” he goaded as he bottomed out, watching as your words died on your tongue. Your head flung backwards into the pile of pillows, jaw slackened, and eyes clamped shut as you tried to focus on anything but his cock deep in you, rubbing against your soft spongy spot. However, your legs were giving you away as they trembled around him, your pride fluttering out the window. “Something about not believing in the rumours?”

Grounding his hips against you, your clit getting caught in his pubic hair and stimulated as he leaned forward to apply more weight, pinning you under him. With a slow drag, he withdrew his cock, chuckling at the constant clenching of your walls as your attempted to suck him back in. His tip tickled your entrance, still fat enough to stretch you, stilled for a moment before he snapped forward, sinking into you again, forcing your walls to stretch around him in a perfect fit, leaving you unable to do anything but take it. The thick length of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with unrelenting precision, and the slow drag against your hypersensitive gummy walls made your back arch. Your slick was smeared along his cock, glistening with a ring of cream at the base, dripping down his balls. Messy and creamy, each thrust was accompanied by a lewd squelch that echoed throughout the cosy room, as if your pussy was singing his praises against your will.

You hated to accept the way your gummy, spongy walls moulded and clamped around him, reshaping to take him as though it was where he belonged. He was battering your pussy like a mad man—deep in your guts, rearranging it. His cock was bullying its way through your walls.

Gasping as you fought to control your breathing, the air knocked out your lungs, you opened your eyes to look up at him and view the sight that your pussy was creating. Head tossed back, throat bobbing as he groaned, beads of sweat rolling down his chest and collecting his hair, his long chestnut strands clinging to his skin, making him appear as some divine being ruining you. You were angry to say that you were lost for words at how handsome he looked in that moment—the way he was losing himself in your pussy, yet still in control. Could not say the same for you.

Shunsui groaned at the feeling, hands gripping your thighs firmly to keep you spread nicely for him, taking in the sensation of how your body trembled from the overwhelming pleasure. “You really thought you could handle me, huh?” he grinned as he opened his eyes to look down at your pouty, dazed and wide-blown expression. You could hear the condescension dripping in his voice as he mocked your bravo from earlier. “All that confidence yet look at you.” He tilted his head to watch the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps. “Cock-drunk already, and I’ve barely started.”

Yet, stubborn as ever, you had refused to admit it was because of him. “I-It’s just—ahh—b-because I haven’t…” Your words were a congested maelstrom of incoherent jumbling as you stuttered into a broken moan, your walls gripping helplessly around him.

“Because you haven’t been fucked in years?” Kyoraku finished your excused, his lips twitching into a wicked grin before he leaned down to press more of his weight on you, your thighs curling into your chest. “Sweetheart, that just means I get to ruin you properly.”

And ruin you he did.

Your walls clenched at his words as if your body agreed, and he chuckled. A deep rumbling in his chest reverberated through yours as he pressed down on you a little more to fuck you a much more forceful and faster. The friction of his chest hairs rubbing against your nipples aided in making your stomach tense, pleasure curling hot and tight in your core. You had already squirted the moment he fully seated himself inside you for the first time, an embarrassing display that had your face burning in humiliation. Your pride refused to let you acknowledge how good it felt, how your body responded to him with unchecked desperation.

“K-Kyoraku…” you groaned as his cock head brushed against your sweet spot again, feeling another wave coming along.

“Shunsui, darling. If I’m buried so deeply in you like this, making you cum. Say the right name,” he snickered, inclining his head to pepper kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

Your thighs trembled as he kept up the rapid rhythm, fucking into you with infuriating patience as if he had all the time in the world to make his point. Each stroke of his cock sent jolts of pleasure up your spine, your hands flying from the cushions to latch onto his back, feeling his rippling muscles flexing under each snap of his hips. All sweaty and slick, your hands glided along his back before finding purchase in his upper shoulders, your nails sinking into his skin, earning you a deep groan. “You sure you’re not enjoying this more than you’re letting on?” he rasped.

His eyes dipped down to the union of your bodies where he watched his cock, messy as hell, being swallowed whole by your pussy. “Like you don’t want me to leave,” he murmured with such amusement. “So different from your words earlier. What were them again? Something about handling it just fine, and being disappointed. Say something now, love. Admit…hmm, that you’re wrong, and you love it.”

“Screw you—shit—ughh.” A forceful snap of his hips left your words hanging in the air. Your pride warred with the undeniable ecstasy coursing through your veins, but your body gave him the answer you refused to voice. His thumb then reached down to press against your swollen clit before gently circling the nub, making your breath hitch.

Your mouth parted to give a silent gasp as the heat in your core grew like molten lava—his smirk against your neck widened once he recognised what your body was about to do. Just then, a small splash of juices squirted out again, covering his cock and thighs. The wicked laughter that escaped his throat made you grind your teeth at how unbecoming this situation was turning out to be. You were losing terribly.

“Admit it, princess,” he murmured against your throat, pressing an open-mouth kiss, sucking at the sensitive skin before dragging his lips up to your ear. “You love it.” His voice was filled with smug enjoyment. “You love the way I stretch you out, how deep I reach. No one else could fuck you like this, could they?” He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock kissing your cervix in a way that had your eyes rolling back, a loud moan ripping from your throat. He was fucking you into hypersensitivity, leaving you spasming in his arms.

“F-Fuck you, S-Shunsui,” you wheezed, digging your nails into his back harder.

“No princess, fucking you is my job. You wanted proof, so you’re going to take everything I give you until you can’t even think straight. No other cock will ever satisfy you from now on.”

You shook your head, doing everything to drown out the sounds of sweaty skin slapping against each other, slipping and sliding as you fought to cling to him properly for anchorage. The sinful sounds of his heavy, sticky balls, dying to empty everything inside you, slapping quickly against your ass with each slap of his hips into you. His fingers had returned to your clit, pinching and slapping the delicate nub like it was his newfound toy. The delicious friction of your nipples against his sweaty, coarse hair, his mouth on your neck—you were going to combust under pressure. You hated how you were cracking, even whimpers escaping your throat were becoming of you.

“Shun–…sui…” you whined breathlessly with a pouty look, tears catching in your lashes as they built at the corners.

In an instant, he pulled his head back to gaze at you with such reverence, it made you forget that this was just a fuck to prove and nothing else. His pretty brown eyes softened as they peered at you affectionately. “Say it,” he commanded with a sweet, honey-like tone, brushing his lips against yours. “No one else can fuck you like this, and you were wrong.”

You wanted to say the words, but they were stuck in your throat. All you could do was whine breathless against his lips and vibrate under him as you were hurling towards another peak. The combination of his expert thrusts and skilled fingers pushed you over the edge, a high-pitched cry tore from your throat as you came, your body convulsing beneath him as you attempted to squirm away from the thrusts he continued delivering. Your walls squeezed him tightly, milking his cock as your orgasm crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, and your body violently shuddered as ecstasy consumed you, leaving you utterly spent.

In return, Shunsui groaned at the feeling, his hips stuttering and his cock twitching as he chased his own release. The way your pussy held him like a vice, made it impossible for him to hold back. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as he finally came, spilling his hot cum inside you, filling you to the brim with his thick, creamy load. His body tensed as he emptied himself completely, twitching slightly as he ensured every drop remained inside you. Once he was sure, he pulled back and looked down with satisfaction as his cum leaked out, thick and white against your swollen, plump pussy.

Humming, he slipped his cock out with a loud, wet slick, and reached down to drag a finger through the mess before pushing it back inside, making you whimper. “So?” he asked as he leaned down, brushing his lips over your ear. “Are you ready to finally admit I was right?”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose @spellboundsuguru @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @foxycrafterofgreenwood

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

#˚₊‧꒰ა satsugasweets ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#˚₊‧꒰ა satsugacafé ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#kyoraku shunsui x reader #kyoraku shunsui smut #kyoraku shunsui scenario #kyoraku shunsui imagine #shunsui x reader #shunsui smut #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x you #bleach imagines #bleach x y/n

75 notes · View notes

borathae · 16 hours ago

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #56 - Sims 4]

"When you catch Jungkook playing Sims 4."

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Kook being the cutest ever <3, Bam obviously being the cutest dog ever, ah yeah mention of WhickedWhims iykyk & because of that suggestive themes

Wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: i just needed to write this fjsdafj like i have no proper notes cause i just felt like writing this and that's it fadffj have fun besties 🧡

“Honey, I’m home!” you call out, but the only one welcoming you by the door is your dog Bam. Weird. Jungkook should be home too. Today is his free day.

You greet Bam, cooing and wooing at him because he is just the cutest dog ever. He even gets a little kiss on the snout.

“I missed you too, baby. Did daddy feed you already?”

Bam barks softly, wiggling his entire butt as he wags his tail. He carries a purple dinosaur plushie in his mouth. It’s his current favourite toy and he carries it everywhere. It’s very cute that he does.

“Let’s check if he fed you, yeah? Come on.”

He follows you to the kitchen, looking at you the entire time, whilst wagging his tail.

“Where’s daddy anyway? Do you know, Bamie?”

The Doberman whines as his way of talking to you. Bam is a very vocal dog, who loves to whine. Not because he is in pain or distress, but simply as his way of communicating. You and Jungkook lovingly started calling him your little cry baby because of it and it’s the cutest thing ever. Especially when he whines for pets or for one of you the play with him. The most heartbreaking whines you will get if he accidentally drops one of his toys into a spot where he can’t reach it. Oh, if this happens, your poor suffering baby will let you know how awful life is (until one of you retrieves his lost toy and all is well again).

This evening, he lets you know that Jungkook didn’t feed him yet. Which you also see because “feed Bam” is still on Jungkook’s chore list. As a matter of fact, all of his tasks are still on his list.

“That’s weird. Did something happen?” You pet Bam’s head. “Stay here, I’ll check on him.”

You quickly wash your hands and leave the kitchen. Bam obviously follows you as you make your way to Jungkook’s room. The door is closed, but the slit at the floor lets out the shine of his LEDs. You knock and enter when you get no answer.

“Hey, daddy.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up and whips around.

“Huh!? Sorry?” He takes off his headphones, gawking at you over the brim of his glasses. “What did you just call me?”

“You didn’t feed Bam, did you?”

“Oh fuck. Wait. You’re home! Bam! Oh my god, Bam I’m so sorry. I’m the worst dad ever”, he exclaims, stumbling to his feet to run out of the room.

He pecks your cheek on his way out and slaps your butt.

“Missed you, love you, you are beautiful”, he says and disappears.

You chuckle and make your way to the kitchen.

Jungkook is busy apologising to Bam and getting his dinner ready. He is vividly talking to him while Bam wags his tail.

“I’m so sorry. What’s wrong with me? I was supposed to make dinner for mommy too. I’m the worst husband ever. This family is fucked because of me.”

“Yes, how could you? You ruined this family”, you tease.

“___! Oh! You heard that?”

“Everything. Loud and clear.” You chuckle. “What’s wrong today? Had a hyperfocus day?”

“Yeah I did. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t want to.”

“It’s alright. It can happen.”

Jungkook places Bam’s feeding mat down.

“Wait. Wait. Wait… Release.”

The Doberman begins eating happily, wagging his tail.

“There you go, my baby. Daddy’s so sorry for forgetting dinner.” He says and looks at you. “Daddy’s also sorry for forgetting mommy’s dinner.”

You snort at his hilarious choice of words.

“It’s alright. I already ate because Jimin came to the restaurant. Almost as if the universe was trying to tell me something.”

You close the distance. Jungkook whimpers in defeat and drops his head on your shoulder, hugging your waist.

“I’m sorry. I hate when my brain does this.”

“Stop apologising. You’re loved.”

“I love you too”, he whispers and kisses your neck. Softly. He snuggles into it afterwards, inhaling deeply.

He hums and exhales.

“Tickles”, you snicker, fleeing him with minimal effort.

“You smell so good. It’s like my brain finally clears up again because I’m with you.”

“You’re the cutest.” You ruffle his hair. “What were you working on that made you go hyperfocus mode?”

“Imma tell you, but you have to promise me not to laugh.”

“I won’t laugh.”

“Okay so…actually, it’s easier if I just showed you. Come with me.”

“Alright”, you follow him, holding hands.

Your journey ends in his hobby room. His computer is turned on.

“Is this Sims?”

“Yes. I downloaded every pack and so many mods. Get a chair, I’ll show you.”

“Okay, no wonder you had no sense of time. Sims is addicting. What is your storyline?” you ask him as you get his art table stool. You place it next to his gaming chair and sit down.

“Okay look. This is the house. I spent so many hours on it. It’s still not completely finished, but we’re getting there.”

He starts explaining as he gives you a tour of the virtual house. He explains every room, his thought process behind it and shows you every single detail and angle. It takes you two rooms to finally figure it out.

“Wait. Pause.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you with big eyes.

“Is this our house?”

“Yeah. Look. I tried to get every detail right. The kitchen and the living room. And there’s my room and your room. And the bedroom.” He clicks through each rooms quickly, “the furniture is not completely accurate but I tried.”

“You did an amazing job. This looks like our home.”

“Yeah, I tried. I think I could do better.”

“Because you’re a perfectionist with unreachable expectations. It’s genuinely amazing.”

“Thanks. Do you wanna see more?”

“Of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt the tour. Show me everything.”

And so Jungkook continues his detailed explanation of each room, while you listen and fall in love with him even more. He looks at you expectantly once the tour is complete.

“And what do you think?”

“It’s seriously so accurate. This must have taken so long”, you praise, running your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. He likes it when you do, leaning into the touch.

“Thanks. Yeah it took pretty long.”

“I can imagine.” You kiss his upper arm. “And who are you going to play as?”

“Okay check this out. I’m already done with the characters”, he says and opens the character creation tab. “It takes some time to load. I downloaded so much CC.”

You chuckle, “obviously.”

“Mhm.”

The tab finally opens.

“Is this you and Bam?” you gasp, gawking at the male sim and the Doberman by his side.

“Yes, it’s us and I made you too. Wait, switch families.”

The screen loads again, Jungkook uses the time to steal a gentle cheek kiss. The tab finally opens at the new family which consists only of one female sim which looks scarily like you.

“Woah, she looks like me.”

“Doesn’t she? I spent so much time making her right so she looks like you. I gave her outfits you would wear. Look, I even made more than one outfit per event so you're always super stylish”, he says, clicking through the different outfits and styles he made for your sim.

“You made me?”

He nods his head, “of course.”

“How?”

“I just looked at pictures of you and I know your style.”

“Koo, oh my god”, you hug his arm, “this is actually so sweet. I don’t know what to say. What are you gonna do with our sims?”

“I’m gonna make us meet and then fall in love of course. I then I wanna ask you to marry me and yeah, we move in together. I even downloaded WhickedWhims so we can make love.”

He glances at you, meeting your baffled features.

“Why are you looking at me as if I’m crazy?” he asks, totally pouting.

“You’re not”, you assure him, running your hand through his fluffy hair, “just realised that you’re seriously never gonna cheat on me.”

He pouts harder, “course I’m not gonna cheat on you. I love you”, he mumbles and turns away, returning to his virtual reality with giddy kicks of his feet. “I can’t wait to play. I wanna go on romantic dates with you.”

“Gosh Koo, you’re so cute”, you say and climb his lap.

Jungkook lets you, gazing up at you with his arms around your waist. He giggles when you squish his cheeks and pull him into a kiss.

“I love you”, you say.

“I love you too”, he answers you, eyes sparkly.

You pet his cheeks then look over your shoulder at the screen.

“What the fuck’s WhickedWhims though?”

“You don’t know? Ohohoh you are in for a ride. Look baby, it’s a mod where you can be sexy with your characters. Check this out, when I remove your dress, you-“

“Yah! Those are my tiddies and my cooch! I’m naked!” You turn to nudge his chest softly. “You horndog even made me naked?”

He snickers, “obviously. I’m naked too and then when we are dating, we can fuck.”

“And you get to see it?”

“Yeah, you can even have different animations.”

“Okay, lowkey I wanna see now.”

“Not yet, we need to meet first.”

“Uff fine, but tell me when we fuck. I’m so curious.”

“You’re such a pervert.”

“Says the one who downloaded a mod so he can make our virtual selves fuck!” you complain, hitting his arm gently.

Jungkook snickers, giving you his best “I’m being a little shit” look, which obviously earns him a smooch and ruffle of his hair.

99 notes · View notes

monkebearness · 18 hours ago

Text

Rereading the Mixed Messages

Kamimoto Kotone (tripleS) x Male Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, alcohol

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: hello, it's me again. this post was supposed to be a smut with a different story and characters, but 'cause it was a special someone's birthday (five days ago), I chose to write this instead. anyways, if you like fluffs, I hope you enjoy this one.

A woman wearing a backpack has been waiting in a hallway right outside the comfort room. She saw her friend rushing towards him, while on her right hand, the handout brochure she received eleven minutes ago wrinkled more and more, thanks to her tightening grip.

“Tone-yah!” the man shouted with relief. “There you are, thank goodness.”

“Junghoon-ah!” she called him, hurrying and somewhat in her voice, especially as she saw him already sweating. “Where the heck have you been? I thought we’d meet here.”

“I’m sorry for taking you so long. I, uhh, I just asked someone to be our guide,” he pointed to the direction beside him with his thumb.

“You just went to someone?” Concern started to radiate from her voice.

“Yeah, and I think he’s a senior who can help us out.”

“You think?” her eyebrow automatically raised slightly, as with her cadence.

“I guess… “ he surmised. “He definitely looks like a sunbae. He’s wearing a gwajam.”

“You should've just waited for me. I was in the restroom for like only five minutes, before you went all Seoul searching on our own campus like some tourist.”

“Well, I panicked, arasseo?” he raised his hands in defense. “I just found him along with a bunch of other students, but he’s the one who stepped up… And besides, he’s willing to assist us. So whatever the case may be, he may know a lot more stuff than we do.”

“You didn’t have to bring anyone, Junghoon!” she couldn’t stop herself from freaking out. “We could’ve toured the campus by ourselves and everything would've been just fine. It’s not like we’re already late or anything… Isn’t that why we went here early?”

“Calm down. But yeah, that’s… A good point,” he scratched his head. “But maybe we should hear him out first. Give him a chance first… We gotta respect our seniors.”

A groan left her mouth, just as a tall man in his university jacket approached them with a welcoming beam. Kotone watched Junghoon as he bowed to him in sight, prompting her to follow his gesture, but with less enthusiasm and more caution towards the older student.

“Annyeonghasimnikka!” he greeted them with his hoarse yet cheerful voice. “I’m Kim Myungsoo.” He turned to Junghoon for a second. “You told me you have a little trouble navigating around campus.” His eyes then met Kotone’s. “So I assumed that both of you are freshmen.”

“Ne,” Junghoon politely answered him. “I kinda also assumed you were a senior, but I am really sorry if I got the wrong impression.”

“I’m actually a sophomore, but don’t worry, ‘cause I’m actually flattered.” he chortled at his own nonchalant response. “And of course, I’d be more than happy to help you… It is orientation day, after all... But, do you mind me asking what your names are?”

“I’m Geum Junghoon,” he bows, before turning to the woman. “And my friend here is…”

In her eyes, his face looks like he’s a model or a young actor who played either a main or supporting role in a romcom college drama. That might have been too specific, but that’s just how Kotone thought about him that morning. Watching romcoms in her spare time was an undeniable factor to that mentality. She didn’t know whether to be enticed or intimidated—or both—by his striking looks, towering stature, and courteous approach. But she might have been staring at her for too long. She should be saying something to him now. She should’ve because they’re now looking at her.

“Koton—” she hesitates at first, making the senior and her friend lean their head to the side while the former lets out a low, huh? Correcting her error within milliseconds due to internal panic, she clears her throat. “Mianhaeyo. My name is Kamimoto Kotone.”

“Oh! You must be Japanese then?” Myungsoo guessed, almost with a higher pitch, something that fascinated the woman because of his reaction. “An exchange student?”

“No. I'm just living here with my relatives,” she corrected him, before following up with, “But you are right about the first one. I was born and raised in Japan.”

“Ah… It’s nice meeting you, Junghoon and Kotone,” he bowed down to them. “First things first, welcome to Seoul State University.”

“Kamsahamnida, sunbaenim,” Junghoon professed as he bowed back, compelled by his habit of being respectful towards him. Too respectful, as Kotone would think, even though she herself bowed much lower this time.

“Oh, that's fine. It's my pleasure to help out more of our Seoulmates, you know?”

Suddenly, Kotone laughed through her nose.

“So, now… On more pressing matters, what are you guys majoring in?”

“Tone’s from the College of Education,” Junghoon answered. “I’m from Tourism and Hotel Management.”

“I'm also from Education!” Myungsoo applauded his answer. “Seems like we already have something in common then, Kotone-ssi. Plus Junghoon’s building is only right next to ours, so that'll be convenient for both of you.”

Junghoon nudged her left shoulder with a smirk. “You still regretting my decision? You've got yourself a new friend!” he mumbled while they followed his trail.

She scoffed at his retort. “Fair enough. He's fine… You did good.”

“And Junghoon,” the upperclassman turned to them. “I’ve actually met someone from your department. His name’s Lim Honggi. Does the name sound familiar to…”

As the two had a conversation, Kotone’s attention towards Myungsoo grew from the moment forward. After several minutes of strolling around the nearby locations, they arrived right in front of the building of Junghoon’s department. It was like Tone was a protective noona sending off a younger sibling to go on his own (they're the same age), even though Junghoon insisted that they go ahead, right after bowing to Myungsoo out of gratitude.

“Do you mind if I take you there as well?”

Such a question struck Kotone with panic, but not enough to trigger a fight-or-flight response. Instead, it let her own guard down. “Oh… Uhh… You don’t have to do that, sunbaenim… Don’t you have a class to catch up to?”

“In about thirty minutes, yeah… But we’re heading to the same building anyway,” he pointed out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed out of the sudden, slowly pursing her own lips out of embarrassment.

“Unless you’re uncomfortable, then I can just leave you alone. I’m sure you know your way to your room. It’s just that—”

“No!” she exclaimed again, even though she knew he was right. “I still have half an hour before our first class, so it’s fine, really.”

That was the start of their something.

“Myungsoo-yah!” Someone calls him with a teasing tone as he approaches them. “There you are! The council told me you were busy briefing freshies… Speaking of which.”

“Yeah… They were right,” Myungsoo quipped.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll be on my way—”

“It’s okay, sunbaenim,” Kotone assured both of them.

“This is Park Yeonghwan,” Myungsoo proceeded with the introductions. “My classmate and friend. This is Kotone. She’s a freshie.”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” Kotone bowed to him. “It’s nice meeting you, sunbaenim.”

His mouth opened, as if he had heard a spell leave her mouth. “Kotone? Are you—”

“Yes, she is Japanese,” Myungsoo stopped him, right as Kotone was about to open her mouth. “You get the point, dude… She must be tired hearing that from everyone else.”

“Gwenchanayo, sunbae,” Kotone stepped in. “But, he’s right. About the Japanese part.”

Yeonghwan chuckled at his interjection, but Kotone herself felt a tug at her heartstrings. “She said it’s fine. Don’t be too defensive, hyung.”

“Hyung?” she tilted her head. “Wait, I thought both of you are sophomores.”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Yeonghwan confessed. “He’s a year older than me.”

Within seconds, she did some mental math for an educated guess. “So that makes you, like, twenty years old?”

He didn’t answer her directly. “I hope that doesn’t make you more uncomfortable.”

A few realizations crossed her mind. Seeing someone was the last thing she wanted right now. There was more to this interaction than just attraction. After all, she's been friends with Junghoon since middle school. Befriending a guy is not a big deal for her. Kotone only chuckled at his hesitation. “It doesn’t… I actually think we’ll get along just fine.”

“You think so?” both guys asked in unison, somewhat bewildered and impressed by her sudden surge of confidence.

“Yeah,” she cheered on. “It’s a good conversation starter for a lot of people I meet, so I can't blame them for that.”

“Phew…” Yeonghwan let out. “That’s nice to know—” he felt a buzzing in his pocket.

“You good, man?” Myungsoo inquired as he and Kotone watched Yeonghwan quickly read his screen within seconds.

“Oh, yeah… I gotta dip, man,” he informed, still holding his phone in his hand. “The council needs me for another meeting. Something about plans for the homecoming festival. But,” he turned to Kotone with a sly smile. “I won’t be giving away too much. It is for the freshies after all...”

“Do they need more help or—?”

“Nah, nah, I got this! We got this,” he reassured him. “They know you're on tour guide duties for the rest of the morning, so you keep doing you.”

“Oh… Okay, then. I’ll catch up with you guys later at class.”

“Sure. Later, hyung!” He turned to the freshie and bowed to her one more time. “It’s nice meeting you, Kotone-chan.”

She bowed back as Yeonghwan walked away from them. “Forgive me for him being a bit too casual,” Myungsoo let out a chuckle.

“Nah, it’s okay, sunbaenim.” Her smile widened. “I kinda like that kind of approach. I gotta admit, it’s pretty refreshing meeting someone new. Someone who isn't just from my own class.”

A smile also formed on Myungsoo’s face before looking at her yellow backpack. There’s three keychains he noticed in his glance. The lowest zipper contained the head of a red lesser panda. The one in the middle was a Sanrio character, whose name he definitely didn’t remember at the time. All he knew was that it was a punk rabbit, wearing a black hat with a pink skull. However, the uppermost one was an odd yet captivating design, dangling around the top zipper. Due to the chain resembling tulips, one would think of it like a twisted looking flower… Until, he realizes it’s a mouth.

“Hey… “ Myungsoo couldn’t help but point his finger. “That’s a pretty cool Demogorgon keychain!”

He knows what it is? She realized, turning her head in his direction. “Oh, thanks! It helps pickpockets rethink their decision.”

The sophomore let out a laugh. “That’s actually a nice strategy. No one wants to be taken in the Upside Down unless you’re the Mind Flayer. Or Vecna.”

“So, umm, you watch Stranger Things too?” she asked him with eyes of intrigue.

“Yeah, yeah!” he hollered, just as his enthusiasm gradually lowered. “Well, I loved the first two seasons.”

“Just the first two?” she raised an eyebrow, albeit mischievously.

“The third season’s a bit meh for me, to be honest,” he answered with a light shrug. “But the new one is still growing on me.”

“That’s an interesting take,” she professed. “I'm sure they're not as questionable as your anime takes? Or are you not a fan of one?”

Her playful taunt allured him, making him cross his arms. “Oh, don't hesitate to test me, Miss Kamimoto. I think you'll be surprised.”

Mutual interests were only the start. As both the seasons and semesters passed, they would live and learn that they have a lot more things in common than once thought. More things to talk about. More to bond over.

= =

Sophomore year, first semester. The two were at the garden when a flock of birds flew out the trees hearing her sudden burst of scream. Thankfully, no one else was there. At least no one who cared enough to pay attention.

“Junghoon got himself in trouble,” Kotone would often confide in Myungsoo. Perhaps this moment was one of the most serious talks they had with each other, even though it’s only been a year since they met.

“What? How did it happen?” He was just as confused, considering how he’s treated Junghoon as a younger brother. “He didn’t tell me about any problem in his class.”

“Of course he wouldn’t…” she grumbled. “That’s how he’s always been… But Honggi told me about it, and right when I confronted him about it, he brushed it off and told me not to worry! Like, how can I not worry about that?”

Myungsoo could feel the emotions beyond the surface of her irritation, one that she’s been trying to suppress while around him.

“He’s become a pushover. Again, ” she sighed. “Ugh… Why is he still like this?”

“Did his teammates threaten him?” he began asking his questions of concern.

“Worse,” she admitted. “It was a pair project, and he did it all by himself!”

Hearing the situation dwindled down his tension, though his worry for Kotone and Junghoon persisted. “So… No one threat—”

“No one threatened, or appeased him!” her voice elevated again. “Yeah, you got that right. His professor doesn’t even know, and it looks like it'll stay that way.”

“Maybe he has a reason,” he considered. “Was the partner sick? Or maybe they had an emergency? I know Junghoon isn't the most confrontational guy but I doubt he’d keep letting a classmate be a freeloader, especially on a pair project.”

“I don’t know… He said his sunbae was busy with her organization and that he used her references, but that’s not enough.”

“Sounds like he felt bad for her too.”

“I feel bad for him!” she countered.

“I am worried for him, too… But like you’ve said, he didn’t get punished for it. He didn’t even feel bad for what he did, even if, I had to admit, it was a bit too far that he did the project all by himself. He’ll be fine, Tone-yah… We can talk to him tomorrow.”

“Who is he even trying to impress in that situation?” she countered him. “He’s one to be interested in relationships.”

“Well,” he let out a chortle. “I guess, there’s a first time for everything.”

“Maybe, but I’ll still be keeping an eye on that Park Sohyun.”

“Wait. Park Sohyun’s his partner? That’s odd. And a bit reassuring for Junghoon.”

“Why? Do you know her?”

= =

Sophomore year, second semester. It was after class when Kotone asked Myungsoo to meet her outside their building. He could whiff a much stronger perfume the more she walked closer. Her loud voice would call out to him right after. “Oppa!” Especially with her outfit of a fit aesthetic shirt under a denim jacket (and not to mention her soft blush, mascara, and a warmer shade of lipstick), he almost mistook her for someone else for a second. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“You look…” He stopped his sentence halfway, still in spectacle at her somewhat new look and style. “Fancier. You look fancier than usual. What’s the occasion?”

“Well…” she fixed her hair in front of him, inciting a quick gulp from Myungsoo, but not enough for her to hear it. “I’m going on a blind date with three of my friends and their companions tonight, and I want you to be there too with us.”

He placed his palm on his chest, dramatically leaning away from her. “Are you really inviting me to this just now? Without further notice?”

“Yeah, don’t you wanna be my plus one?” she held his hands. “They will like you, oppa. I’m sure you’ll get along with their plus ones too. Some of them are around your age.”

The longer she stared closer to him, her eyes slowly sparkled. He couldn’t even say ‘no’ for some dumb reason. “This is a bit too sudden, Tone.”

“Please…” her tone started to shift into a more cutesy one, as if she’s doing an aegyo. Or maybe that’s just how he often saw her face. He saw her new hair style. While a low bun isn’t anything new for Kotone, seeing it up close astounded Myungsoo. “It was pretty urgent. And I didn’t have anyone else to ask to come with me.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Really? There’s no one else? A social butterfly like you?”

“Yah, I’m just a social caterpillar,” she quipped back. “If someone between us is the butterfly, it’s you, Mister Vice President of the SSU Visual Arts Organization!”

“That’s a fair point, but that’s hardly relevant, when you’re the one who asked me out on this…” he shot back. “Why didn’t you think of anyone else from the gang? Or even from your own block?”

She knew he was right, but she didn’t wanna give it up just yet, so she kept firing more reasons and excuses. “I thought of asking Yeonghwan-oppa or Honggi, but they seem like they do that by themselves anyway. I considered Junghoon, but he’s still busy on his shift tonight. And besides, this is the only time I’ve asked a favor, like c’mon...”

“I guess that’s true.” He sighed in resignation. In the silence of Kotone’s anticipation, he slowly slid his fingers through his hair before finally facing her. “Fine… But, I’m only going ‘cause you asked. But only this ti—”

Kotone squealed. “Gomawo, oppa! That’s a deal, alright? The meetup won’t be that far from here.”

= = =

Vacation, pre-junior year. Since their dorms were the closest to the university among best friends, they decided to meet on campus after lunch. It was a Saturday morning when Kotone had returned to Korea after a one-month vacation to her hometown.

“I know I’m a few days late,” she pulled out a pair of small silky bags from her pocket. “But, saengil chukhahaeyo.”

With eyes of curiosity and anticipation, Myungsoo inspected the bags. It took him a second to guess the gift, but he was familiar with it. They're omamori. Two of them. Red and pink. Considering he wasn’t too knowledgeable of Japanese, Kotone briefly explained the writings to them. “That’s a kenku, and that one’s an en-musubi.”

“What do they mean?”

“Kenku’s for good health and long life. Cliche, I know,” Kotone giggled, before she took a swift deep breath, though he barely noticed. “But the en-musubi is for finding luck in love.”

He slid his fingers on each, feeling the smooth texture of the charm, mesmerized by their design. “Woah… This looks legit. I mean, you know, it’s pretty. It’s authentic.”

She chuckled at his observation. “Of course, it is. I bought that in Meiji Jingu. I actually bought each two for you and the boys, but I decided to give yours first.”

“I-uhhh… I don’t know what to say… Gomawo, Tone.”

“You’re welcome, oppa… That’s for the Orbit merch you gave me.”

“Those were your birthday gifts… You deserved that.”

“You better not lose these within a year,” she added with more emphasis, staring at the two charms.

“I'll do my best. Especially for the love charm,” he teased, which only provoked the woman as her eyes squinted at him in an instant. “My love life is now in your hands or something.”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, as he looked down on both charms on his hand, caressing it with affection. “I won’t lose it, of course. They’re good charms… But if something does happen to these, which I won’t allow anything to happen to, you’re still gonna be my good charm, you know?”

Kotone felt a gulp on her throat. She chuckled nervously. “Flatterer.”

“That’s just the truth,” he justified himself. “You and the guys have always been my charms since we got together.” He faced her with a serious gaze and closed smile, putting his right hand on her left shoulder. “I couldn’t be more grateful for that.”

Dugeun… “Myungsoo-oppa.” Dugeun…

“And look who’s back!” A familiar male voice yelled from behind, startling only the woman. It’s Yeonghwan, with Honggi and Junghoon, right beside him, as they all rushed to the pair behind the bench with excitement.

“Kamjagiya!” Kotone did not expect their presence, which only elevated her heartbeat. “Guys! What the hell? I thought y’all won’t be making it today!” She turned to the quiet one among them. “Junghoon-ah, you even said that you’re working at the CVS today.”

“Well, actually… The boss told me I can take one day off during the weekend until summer break ends,” he explained. “Plus, why would we ever miss your arrival?”

“So the three of you just planned this surprise without telling me?”

“It’s actually our plan,” Myungsoo revealed. “All of us wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh… Well, that’s a bummer… I would’ve brought the rest of your gifts.”

“That’s okay… The gifts can come later.” Honggi started to make circle motions with his hand on his tummy. “You’ll make it up for us some other way.”

She and Myungsoo laughed at his subtle suggestion, knowing well what he meant. What they all meant. She breathed through her nose. “Where do you guys wanna have lunch?”

Cheers erupted from the three, making her laugh more and widening her smile at the reaction and sight of all her closest friends, who gathered with her.

= = =

Junior year, first semester. The campus had been set up with dozens of different and unique booths, as plenty of clubs and organizations had prepared them in the past week. So far, the week-long university festival has been going well on its third day. From arcades and treasure hunts to readings and talent shows, hundreds of students and visitors stroll and explore the university from seven to six… And it was no different for these two. Myungsoo was holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand as Kotone was holding a stuffed toy bunny while they walked across the crowd.

“You finally tried that spirit animal booth yet?” Myungsoo wondered.

“Oh, yeah!” she clapped on the bunny toy with her left hand as if she were a seal with flippers. “That was the funnest one I’ve had so far... They really made a lot of effort making that one, so I applaud them.”

“More than your own club’s booth?” He teased her with the question.

“Well,” she had caught his intention, prompting her to raise the confidence in her delivery. “Nothing else beats our treasure hunt, of course, so it’s a close second… Maybe I’ll consider the Lyrical Booth too some other time.”

“Oh…” his mouth slowly opened in anticipation. “Are you finally gonna be showing your rapping skills at the workshop? While at it, why not join the talent contest too—”

“Yah, I’m just considering!” she reacted with remarkable alertness. “Don’t be too excited. It might not even happen, if you keep on prying.”

“Why not?” He opened his arms wide, much to her slight embarrassment. “I can be your hype boy!”

Her eyes moved to the side, staring at him. “You mean hype man?”

“Yeah, yeah. My bad… I got it mixed up from that song from last year.”

“It’s fine…” she brushed off. “What’s what the Noraebang Booth does to you anyways. They got a lot of bangers since yesterday, so I can’t blame ya.”

“But I’m still wondering, what was your result on the animal test from earlier?”

“Oh, yeah… As expected, I’m a lesser red panda! Nothing new there,” she exclaimed. “How about you?”

“Eh…” he huffed. “I really don’t wanna mention it.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair,” she nudged him on his left shoulder. “Are you keeping things from us more because you now have—”

“Myungsoo-yah! Tone-chan!” A woman walked towards them. One who has been both familiar to them since the past and a half year. “There you are!”

“Annyeong, Yooyeon-unnie!” Kotone waved at her, witnessing both her friends meet.

“I just had a walk with Tone,” Myungsoo walked closer to her, holding her hands with exhilaration. “You shouldn’t worry about me too much, noona.”

“Yah… I told you not to call me that,” Yooyeon lowered her voice. “Not in front of everyone, anyways.” She turned to Kotone. “And thanks for looking after him… Tone-chan. You must’ve been exhausted keeping up with all his yapping.”

“Hey,” Myungsoo interjected, embarrassed by the woman’s remark.

Kotone chortled. “That’s no problem, unnie. He was being less chatty this time…” She poked his left elbow. “So that made things a little easier for me. And himself.”

“Hmm… That's unusual for my boyfriend.” She leaned closer into him, speaking her breath closely while he exhaled a smile with excitement. “Maybe I shall give him a better, more thorough check up inside our booth?”

As she witnessed their sweet and suggestive moment, Kotone felt a sensation travel down her spine. Her heartbeat increases, seeing their faces only an inch away from each other’s. Her fingers clenched as her smile tightened as their lips touched. “I, uhh, I’ll go look after Junghoon and Honggi at their booths. You two just have fun, alright?”

“Are you sure you don't wanna tag along with us?” Myungsoo tried to talk her out.

“And be a third wheel? Ah, no thanks,” she scoffed with a more playful undertone. His persistence to make her stay somewhat struck a nerve, but she didn’t mind it for long. “You two rarely get the chance to hang out since preparation week. Look, unnie, he even got you a mini you. Those flowers weren’t enough for him.”

“Awww… You got these for me?” Yooyeon cooed at Myungsoo, taking both gifts as they embraced.

He accepted a kiss from her on his cheek. “I just thought since it’s the festival, it’d be a nice way to help one of the arcade booths and bring you something at the same time.”

“You and your excuses, babe. And of course, you’re welcome to tag along with us, Tone-chan...” the older woman quipped to Kotone, letting out a giggle beside Myungsoo. “Who else knows better than us than our own matchmaker?”

Flattery was what she felt. At least, it should have been her only reaction. Yet it's only the surface. A convincing cover to what her heart was telling her… “I’ll be fine on my own. You two can pay me back by setting me up with someone, arasseo?”

“I'll be on the lookout, girl.” Yooyeon forms her fingers in the shape of a gun. ”You can count on me for that. I know a lot of fellas from our class, so just take your pick.”

Tone adored that her close friend was acting like that. She liked that both her close friends were happy. She did. She should.

“Sure, unnie…” she snorted. “Alright, now I really gotta go. Take care, love birds…”

But there was no point in ruining their moment by reminding them of their presence. By reminding herself. There’s nothing to gain from it. Nothing to gain from thinking about this longer than it should. She turned around and faced the crowd while still wearing her smile when she heard her clubmate’s cheerful voice.

“Have fun, Tone-chan! We’ll be at our booth, okay?”

They’re happy. It’s all that mattered.

= = =

Junior year, second semester. Things got more hectic, academic-wise, especially with seniors like Myungsoo finally reaching their final semester. But, even for juniors like Kotone, a lot more doors of opportunities opened for her… And that’s what the latter assured her when they talked by themselves in one of the campus gardens. She was told it was urgent, so the woman waited at one of the benches until he arrived.

“You should run as auditor, Kotone.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened, even standing up from her seat. “For the student council? Michyeosseo?”

“Come, Tone-yah… It’s gonna be productive for you... You’ll get to demonstrate your skills and talents outside class. Outside your little diamond dreamer club. Plus, even Yooyeon thinks you should venture out too.”

“That's easy for both of you to say, oppa.”

“Take it from me. I may already be a senior, but that doesn't stop me from trying out other responsibilities. And I don't see why you wouldn't do the same.”

“Oh, so you’re guilt-tripping me ‘cause it’s your last year, huh?”

“No, no, no! You don’t have to run. But you know, just think about it. Just my advice.”

He could only wait for her in silence. While the leaves above rustled along the winds and the branches blissfully swayed. Clinging her right index and thumb on her chin, Kotone's mind gradually shifted into a more rational route.

“Hmm… Now that you’ve brought it up,” she pondered. “Maybe it will give me more experience. Perhaps, it’ll be a great addition to my resume…”

“Now we’re talking.”

“But that doesn't mean I'll actually run for real, arasseo?” she pointed her index finger at him. I'm just considering all my options carefully.”

= = = =

Senior year, first semester. Kotone gained more exposure and some connections after becoming elected as the auditor of the Education Department’s Student Council, even after Myungsoo finally graduated with flying colors. But, there’s one thing she or any student can’t escape from. And such a laborious reality was something that she often dealt with, by spending time at the library before or after class.

After taking off her glasses, she sighed on the surface of the table right next to the stack of books she had compiled. “Would be nice to have Junghoon, Honggi, and Yeonghwan with us… Why did all of them have to enlist at a time like this? Couldn’t they just have waited their turn?”

“Yeonghwan said he just wanted to get it out of the way,” Myungsoo pointed out. Yes, he was still there. “I'm thinking the other two just thought he had a point.”

"That's such a silly answer. But yeah, it is pretty reasonable, I guess.”

“Or maybe they're just avoiding making their own theses,” he added.

“That's what I was thinking!” she almost bursted into laughter, but not before muffling her mouth with both her hands.

Myungsoo giggled as softly as he could. “Don’t worry... You still have me, right? What better way to work on your thesis than to ask for advice from your sunbae. When the boys get discharged, they’ll regret not being here with us… At least two of ‘em will.”

“Eeeeehh... You're only here 'cause you just extended your teaching assistant job in the first place!” She gave him a light punch on his left shoulder.

“Yah… Just because it's true, it doesn’t mean it's easy for me either.”

“Oh, poor you,” she sneered with a sarcastic undertone. ”Gotta wait for your girlfriend while the rest of us hoobaes have it so easy with our thesis, don’t we? Not to mention, I still have a meeting with the council later this afternoon!”

“Just so you know, I don't regret being here as much as you want me to. And Yooyeon still has another hour before her class ends, so I have no other choice but to stay here for a while as you babble in front of your laptop… And I gotta make sure that you're not just slacking around or snoring on your table.”

His argument only made her snicker. There was no point in arguing with a friend. This friend. “Well, I give up, so I’ll just say it. Thanks for the support, even if it’s just you being here with me.”

They lock eyes for a moment. No quips, no banters. Just the traces of their smile, just before a thought crawled up their blank minds... This may be the last year they’ll see each other like this. At least, with just the two of them. Perhaps, that’s for the best.

“Anytime, Tone-chan… What are friends for?”

Especially because of that.

= = = = = = = = =

“One matcha latte for Changmin! Your order is now ready for pickup,” an automated voice calls out from the counter. A man, in his early twenties, stands up from his seat right after the call, parting from his friends for a moment to fetch his order.

It's 12:00 P.M., and the cafe is already flooding with customers, most of whom are students and professors on their break. The calendars on the kiosks state February 7, 2031. On their table, twenty-six-year-old Kotone has been facing a twenty-eight-year-old Myungsoo from her seat in the last half an hour, surrounded by their now almost empty disposable cups, their laptops, and distinct bags on the chair beside them. His eye bags are more noticeable than usual. He’s still tall, although his latest figure appears a little more “mesomorphic,” as she tries to describe it herself mentally, though it doesn’t bother her. It’s not uncommon to gain weight in their late twenties, what’s the big deal?

Thankfully, there was no sense of awkwardness in their atmosphere. Why would there be? They were close friends. They were there for each other at their highest and lowest points for more than four years. If his mere new look bothered her, then their friendship was all pointless and for nothing. Besides, there’s other reasons to be awkward about.

It ain't the first time she's seen him after graduation, thanks to social media and some social gatherings that she tried to avoid in the last few years. But, seeing him now, it's something else. Something that she can't describe, considering the fact she’s been paying attention to his face as much as she is to his words, probably a little more.

“This is a really, really big project… You really sure you wanna do this, Kotone?”

“You don’t have to do it with me. I can just write and send a request letter to the Dean instead, if they need any more proof or confirmation that we’re sincere about this.”

“No, Tone-yah,” he insists. “Since I already agreed to meet with you, I can handle that.”

“How about you, Myungsoo-oppa,” she asks him, her tone’s a mix between a playful intimidation, covering her slight hint of concern. “Do you think this is a lost cause?”

“Of course, it’s not a lost cause,” he reassures. “I wanna help you. Not just because I’ve been teaching here for four years now, but I believe why you wanna do this… Honestly, it’s not that selfish to think about making some reunion possible.”

Her eyes light up with optimism, contrasting her somewhat smug front. “Really?”

“Almost every alumni homecoming we’ve had were for middle-aged folks. Which is fine, no offense to them, but people our age often forget that we were students once too, back in the day. This is a chance for us to remind them that it’s okay to think about and yearn for those times. You don’t need to be in your forties to attend a college reunion… right?”

Her heartbeat slowly becomes louder. “Well…” She clears her throat. “That’s well said. I couldn’t have put it better myself. Besides, Yoon-daepyonim already had this approved, so it would really irritate her if this doesn’t go through.”

“I know you guys do galas for socialites and folks at corpo every year,” he scratches his chin slowly. “But I didn’t know ModHaus would also be into organizing alumni parties. Like, I don’t know if that’s like an upgrade or a desperate rebranding from them.”

“We’ll plan, organize, and host just about anything, if we think it’s worth planning,” she crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not called the company of all possibilities for nothing. And, we don’t just do it for corporations... Ever since she took over, we’re not like that anymore. For the better.”

“Well, I can’t deny that. But whatever the case is… Tell your boss not to worry too much…” He offers his left hand. “Let’s do well on this project, Miss Kamimoto.”

Such an act of formality from an old friend makes her giggle, a response that she tries to cover up by clearing her throat immediately after. Leveling her eyes with her friend, she holds his hand with her right. “Couldn’t agree more, Professor Kim. Let’s do our best.”

And as their hands shake through this meetup, the Reunion Party of Batch 2025-2026 has been set in motion throughout this month. Through weekly meetings, Myungsoo helps Kotone become acquainted with some of the current alumni committee of the SSU. Most were new faces, about a few years younger. Some were familiar, most of which were either older or the same age as hers.

“Kotone-ssi! It really is you. You barely aged a day.”

“Ne! Annyeonghaseyo, sunbae. And please, it seems that time has been kinder to you.”

“Sunbaenim!” another one approaches her. “It’s wild, and an honor, seeing you here, considering how blessed you are, working at one of the richest companies in Korea.”

“Nah, I beg to differ!” she humbles herself. “I wouldn’t even have gotten to ModHaus if I never spent my time here in Seoul State… The honor’s on me, knowing how passionate and dedicated you all are in helping to plan this event.”

“And just to assure you,” she added. “You will all be compensated for your service.”

Her reminder sparks wholehearted laughter and cheers from the committee. “We’re not doing this for money, Kotone-ssi… But just so you should know, we can’t deny that kind of promise.”

“Well, it’s finally settled then.” She claps her hand. “Hwaiting, yeorobun!”

The planning and execution would take a couple of months, perhaps a little longer than their timeframe, as both the representatives from Tone’s company and the SSU alumni committee would have to juggle between fulfilling their regular duties at their personal works and making this brand new event beyond merely possible.

“ModHaus will provide their services as much as they can, so don’t worry about asking our affiliates for help, everyone. This also counts as our project, after all.”

But what makes this period more than memorable for Kotone was not only the people she’s been reunited with. They are still at the preparation stages, after all. They would have team lunches here and there. Revisiting the university itself was the most special aspect for her, because of the memories it brought both of them back with each step in every stroll they took on campus before or after their meetings.

At noon, they bask in the sunlight, which, thankfully, is no longer as excruciating and dangerous to walk freely as it was years ago without the habitual routine of putting on some sunscreen during spring and summer. The pair would walk past the grass fields and the nearby blossoming gardens. Past the buildings old and new. There’s parts of themselves that never left. It was understandable for Myungsoo, but for Kotone, it’s quite eye-awakening to see her realization unfold with her eyes. From the students, professors, to the guests like her going on with their business. A group of friends chilling under the shade of the trees, inclining on the bench, with some lying even on the grass with no to little care about the dirt that just accumulated on their shirts and jackets.

She simply can’t take her eyes off her surroundings. With every live scenery to watch in a state of bliss, her gaze would find another to watch and appreciate. “I know a lot has changed since graduation, and yet, this place feels like yesterday.”

“Really?” Myungsoo teases her, following her gaze. “I honestly can’t tell the difference.”

“Yah, don’t ruin the moment…” she whines. “That’s ‘cause you’ve stayed here while most of us went our separate ways. Of course, you wouldn’t get it.”

He does. But he doesn’t say anything. Looking in her direction, he reminiscences much like her. “Hey, do you remember that time when we first hung out at these fields?”

Kotone now realizes that she underestimated him.

She thinks to herself, Maybe this is all just nostalgia. With all this ambition, maybe this is just me listening to my younger self, instead of focusing more and more at work and slaving myself to the executives, like I have always been.

“You know… If this doesn't end well, then consider it a cautionary tale for myself,” she admits her own misgiving, subconsciously opening and closing her hands in a sporadic pattern.

“It’ll go well, Tone,” Myungsoo senses the seeds of doubt already growing within her. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll join you on that lesson.”

She giggled, before sighing into the breeze. “Thanks, but I don’t know… I honestly just want to make this a reality for our batchmates. That’ll make me feel better. Besides, I made a bet with a few of my closest friends. Suhyeon, Kyubok, even Junghoon.”

He wants to comfort her—but hearing a familiar name is not something he’s heard in a while, but her last-second confession makes him laugh. “Junghoon’s doing well, I see… We rarely get to hear from the rest of the gang nowadays, and I only heard that he was the head chef at your company… But it’s actually nice to hear that from our youngest.”

She knows what he means, but she doesn’t want to ruin the vibe of their conversation. “Oh, he’s doing so much better, oppa… I actually want you to hear from him when the time comes. But that for now, all I can say is…”

Kotone begins to spill tea which astonishes Myungsoo. It’s only the start of this night. Bringing together scenes and sequences of memories from their collegiate past would continue to motivate them in making this event a reality, not just for themselves, but also for everyone else who will take part in this reunion.

= = =

March 2031. They start to spend more time meeting outside the university. On this day, the pair meet in a cafe outside the ModHaus building, which surprisingly enough, was Myungsoo’s suggestion. For once, he wants her to travel less, arguing that her anticipation for the reunion will wane if they keep meeting on campus grounds.

Straight from his backpack, he hands the woman a small box wrapped in a pink ribbon, which she opens. She’s in awe.

Kotone looks back at him. “What… What is this, Myungsoo-oppa?”

“Just a gift. It’s your birthday today, isn’t it? Saengil chukahaeyo.”

After a quick unboxing of the box, she gives the bottle a test spray inches away from her.

This isn’t just any perfume. This scent has brought her years of memories more vividly. Back to that afternoon. To a lot of afternoons. The garden. The flowers. It doesn't help since the man in front of her was mostly with her during those times. It’s not the exact same brand, but it’s enough for the woman to let out a sigh of longing, yearning for those moments even more.

“Wah…” she whiffs more of the scent. “I can’t believe it's been a long time since I've sprayed something like this.”

”Do you like it?” He remains reserved, even though he’s already seeing her reaction.

”How can I not? You're really making me excited about the reunion, you know that?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to…” he confessed. “But, if you think of it like that, then I’m glad that helped you be more pumped up for this event.”

Her eyes widen once again, only realizing now what he said earlier. “So, after all these times, you still remember my birthday, huh?”

“Yeah!” he cheers, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, Tone. What are friends for?”

Oh… A dart strikes her heart. Why is she feeling this? Why is she grateful, yet also hurt? Why does she feel that pang inside her? It’s nothing, a voice tells her. This isn’t the first time he’s given you a gift! “Oppa, this is too much. I don’t know what. How to repay—”

“You don’t need to repay anything. And just because you’re working hard, doesn’t mean you can’t have a little celebration. Most of our plans have been finalized! We’ve gotten this far thanks to you, so consider it as a reward.”

Maybe that’s enough. “Thank you for this, Myungsoo.”

She brushes this thought off with that self-reassurance. This thing isn’t about whatever she just considered in her mind. This is about the reunion. You’re being overdramatic around him. Just focus on your job now. “And speaking of finalized, I just have to ask again if you have proofread the whole invitation, haven’t you?”

“Yep, for the hundredth time. I’ve gone through the email. They did a great job with making it snappy and concise. They didn’t even use GPT to write those up.”

“Well, I trust your word… Let’s finally send it, shall we?”

“Of course, it’s your call, committee leader.”

“Stop,” she chuckles and with one deep breath, she takes one last scan of her invitation before hitting ‘send’ on the email with her index finger. Kotone braces herself for what’s about to come, looking back at Myungsoo as a reassuring closed smile forms on his face. “Let’s do our best, Tone-chan,” he raises his left hand, his fist closed.

His innocent face reminds her of a quote from a show that she watched decades ago. That damned smile. She reciprocates his gesture with her right hand with a chuckle, hoping to forget what she just felt earlier. Still, even that single bump of touching his skin sends a tingle through her veins.

= = =

April 2031.

Things got busier. Questions from invited guests build up. Scheduling conflicts between their sponsors and services begin to surface. With only a few weeks away, the committee has been doing their best, dividing their tasks in dealing with the problems step by step. On weekends, their responses to certain emails would take overnight.

“Let’s take a break first… We’ve done a lot tonight.”

Right as she closes her laptop, Kotone’s voice begins to crack. “O—okay…”

Myungsoo immediately sensed something’s off with her silence. He inched closer, slowly reaching his hand into her shoulder. “Tone-yah… Are you… alright?”

She struggles completing her words, completely giving into the chaos clashing in her heart and mind. “It's just… I miss them… It’s hard… to imagine… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

Myungsoo has no words. Rather, he’s hesitant and fearful that he would only break her heart more than it already is. He doesn’t want to give false promises or high hopes, but he doesn’t want to let her down either. He listens to his heart, pushing himself to hold her shoulders, slowly wrapping his arms around them.

“I miss them too, Tone…” he mumbles, patting her on the back and caressing her hair as she lets out her tears in his embrace through a muffled whimper. “We’ll make this work, arasseo? I’m sure of it.”

= = =

On this Friday of May 2031, the reunion finally begins inside the Na Heedo Gymnasium.

And as they expected, not everyone could be there tonight. But the fact that more than a hundred invited guests arrived there has surpassed most of their expectations. Faces old and new dress up for the occasion, crossing paths with their old buddies from years ago.

The guests stand and stare at the spectacle that is the party. Hundreds of familiar faces, now several years older, laughing and grooving on the dance floor under the moonlight vibing at the playlist of Western and local pop music alike prepared by the DJ. It is still several minutes before the program proper starts, allowing guests to keep bonding and being acquainted with each other inside or near the venue. Plentiful students, whether graduating or already graduates for a year or two, are present too, taking advantage of possible recruitment from their alumni, though they’d have to make some effort to get their attention, considering that fact that lot of alumni just wanted to party tonight by getting off some steam and escaping from their present.

“Tone-yah has really made it possible, huh,” Kim Chaeyeon shakes her head in amazement.

“I mean, it was like, almost four months in the making, right?” Kim Nakyoung wonders. “But damn. She really did it.” She claps her hand.

“Three months. But come on now,” Kotone herself joins them in a less formal dress. “It wouldn't be possible without y'all. There’d be no reunion without you guys and gals!”

“Omo, omo… Tone kudasai!” Lee Jiwoo hollers on. “The mastermind is finally here!”

“I just can't believe you and your committee managed to pull this off!” Dahyun cheers on, joining the huddle between women. “It paid off.”

She’s touched by their piles of praise. “Thanks for the compliments, y’all. I, uhh, I’m just really happy that you guys can make it here tonight.”

About four hours would go by, dozens of personal reunions take place not just inside the gymnasium, but also in the corridors, the outdoors, and even in the restroom. Let your imagination wild. Members of the committee would often check on each other, but for the most part, they’d only tell each other to enjoy the moment once their program had all wrapped up.

With nothing else to deal with, Kotone finds Myungsoo from a distance. Maybe it’s simply the magical atmosphere that the event has conjured throughout the campus tonight, but to her, it's like when she first met him during orientation week. Her heart tells her to do it. To walk up to him. Nothing can stop her now. Why keep hesitating.

Right as her eyes catch Yooyeon approaching him with two empty glasses in her hands.

She can feel her own heart pulling away, dragging down like an anchor with every beat. This isn't college, nor is it not high school either. Well, you definitely did not think this through, her ego tells her over the deafening gymnasium.

“So…” she hears someone else’s familiar voice from behind. “It still really is him. After all those years.”

She turns around. “I don't know what you're talking about, Junghoon-ah.”

“You don't have to tell me anything, Tone…” he snickers. “But, maybe it's better if you talk things out with him.”

“Nothing is going on, dude,” she keeps dismissing his claim with a smile. “And how about you and—”

“We're doing well, thank you,” he stops her, knowing well who she meant. “Worry about your own… I just don't want you to get hurt because you're keeping it to yourself… Go to him. Don’t think about it too much.”

And as he leaves her with an assuring smile, Kotone does. She takes a deep breath, maintaining her cool and shaking her worries and doubts to the side the closer she reaches the gap between Myungsoo and Yooyeon, even as they exchange laughter.

“Look who finally showed up… Koto-chan!”

= = =

It’s now an hour past midnight, inside the gymnasium, and only a few alumni and other guests have been hanging out, as they exit the hall and, on their way out, thank the ones who are still present there, the committee themselves, the two of whom are Kotone and Myungsoo. They’re now fixing everyone else’s mess, yet they do it with smiles radiating with contentment with the memories they made.

“I know the staff will be dealing with most of these in the morning, but I’d rather fix the mess we’ve made here.” Kotone places another chair on the fifth stack. “At least most of them. Wow, this is no joke.”

“Let me help you with that,” offers Myungsoo. “You’ve done a lot for tonight, you know.”

The woman has had the urge to ask him about what she saw earlier. It can just be a friendly curiosity, right? Nothing scandalous about it.

“Thanks for helping me out, not just with this, But you know… With everything.”

“Hey, don't mention it, Tone-yah,” he taps her on the back. “I loved planning this whole event as much as you did, but you're basically the MVP who made this fantasy real from the start.”

“Nah,” she objects. “It would have remained a fantasy if it wasn't for you, Kim Ssaem. You’re the one who’s still here.”

“I guess, but who knew the class officers of 2025 would still be here like we used to?”

“Not everyone from our officers got to be here, if you remember things clearly, but I guess… It’s best that we focused on who came tonight. Cherished the moments with those in front of us,” she pondered.”

“That… That couldn’t be more true.”

“The nostalgia must have gotten into you tonight as well, Mister Treasurer.”

“I didn't even know how to count money that well.” He laughs and shakes his head at her callback. “I can't remember why I even accepted the class’ nomination in the first place.”

“I wasn’t there, but I thought you did your job just fine.”

“That's because you were there with me, Miss Auditor!”

“Not when you were around,” she shoots back. “I wasn’t even there until your last year.”

“You helped me regardless. Plus, you did well on your own after I graduated. Balancing the council funds and your thesis… Now, everything paid off for you, Tone-chan.”

“Hey, at least you’re loving your job. Loyalty can get you somewhere, after all.”

“You don’t?” he queried. “You get paid like six digits for about half a year, if not more! You’re just as loyal to ModHaus as I am to our alma mater.”

“Well… That’s one thing I love about my job. I just wish I’d get to do other stuff, like I did planning this event, you know? Not that I wanna be an intern again or something, but it’d be nice to branch out to another department… It’s been a long time.”

“Have you ever considered applying for other positions in your company?” he suggested. “I doubt they wouldn't want to take your expertise for granted, because in the past three months, you’ve shown them what you’re capable of… You’re a woman of many talents, Tone.”

Dugeun. “You flatter so much, Myungsoo-oppa…”

“Yeah, but that wasn't a lie, was it?”

“Whatever. I am considering reaching out to the Event Management Team. Happy?” she spills to him. “They’re the ones who planned and executed the last ModHaus Gala, and, believe it or not, that inspired me to do this whole shebang.”

With that, some things start to make sense to Myungsoo. “They'll be lucky to have you.”

Unbeknownst to Kotone, her cheeks start to blush. “You and your words again, oppa!”

“I swear those are just my observations.”

= = =

June 2031.

Even after the reunion, the two still hang out. Kotone and Myungsoo still keep in touch, as the latter first suggested, even if they meet less this time. Around two to three times a week, they’d hang out after work with their mutual friends. Other times, it’s just the two of them, which is nothing new, much like tonight.

“Look who just got promoted?” is how she breaks the ice to him during this meetup.

“Seolma… That’s great!” By instinct, excitement fuels him to take her hands while the pitch of his voice goes up. “Chukahaeyo!”

His hand holding on to hers is evoking something strange, but not unfamiliar. Their eyes lock in silence with no exchange of banters, as they both get a feeling of déjà vu. However, such a moment doesn’t fill her mind with expectation, a juxtaposition with how heart is behaving in his presence. Kotone notices everyone else at the cafe giving them different looks, something that doesn’t seem to faze the man in front of him. The man whose eyes are only focused on her. Embarrassment is not what her mind has been warning her. Rather, it’s the same old hindrance that’s holding her back. All those years.

“You can let go now, Myungsoo-oppa,” she tells him, yet she keeps holding on to them.

He senses the discomfort in her voice. Perhaps, that’s not the right word, yet it’s abrupt for him and strange, even for himself. “Oh, right… Mianhae.” He parts from the woman, taking a few steps away from her.

“No, it's okay,” she fixes her hair, placing scattered strands to the side. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. You were a bit too excited. And it’s my promotion, too,” she tries to lighten up the mood once again.

“Well, it's a big achievement for you,” he defends. “How can I not be happy for you?”

“Gomawo, oppa.”

= = =

Three weeks have passed. Tonight feels different, but maybe that’s just what Myungsoo feels, based on his observation. They feel a bit more distant. Strangely enough, the fact that they're inside a pojangmacha makes him more attentive towards her. It must be the limited space. Or that her cheeks are slowly blushing right after taking down her fourteenth shot of the night.

She’s quieter than usual, he notices her staring into a blank space. “You alright? Or are you gonna rant about it? Hey, you better not be regretting your promotion or something, because you very much deserved that position.”

“Oppa…” she turns to him, ignoring his active concerns and speculation, as one question has been lingering on her mind. “What are we?”

He turns to her without a word, keeping his mouth from opening agape. His reaction is delayed, like a system lagging due to the overloading of data. If he had taken a sip of his shot before that, he would’ve spilled his drink. “Huh? What do you mean, Tone? Your question’s a bit too vague…”

Just like their relationship. Kotone takes a deeper breath than before. Instead of facing him head on, her eyes gaze at a distance, wistful at her thoughts and reminiscing of her past. “Yeah... I know that’s such a cliche thing to say… But, I’ve been thinking of it for a while... That damn question… But then again, you’re not a philosophy professor.”

“If that’s what you mean, uhh, then…” he stammers, hoping that playing along will help him understand what she's talking about. “We’re friends. We’ve always been, aren’t we?”

She feels a clenching and numbing sensation in her chest. It’s temporary, but she knows why she’s feeling like this. To hear that phrase over and over again. It’s exhausting.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Don’t mind me. I know it’s already been months since the reunion, but I’m just taking us down memory lane. What happened after graduation. It just got me thinking, how, the last time we met, you were also with Yooyeon-unnie. My close friend and fellow Diamond Dreamer.”

“Tone-yah.” He feels discomfort, even from her, since all she’s doing is bringing up his own dating life. Yet, he finds it strange that he himself doesn’t want her to tell all these details. But his mind reminds him of their encounter at the reunion. When she walked up to him and Yooyen. “Where are you going with this?”

“No, no, I’m not jealous or anything,” she slowly rubs the side of her neck. “I was happy for you guys... But now that we’re on this route, I’m just wondering how she’s doing.”

Jealous? Myungsoo’s mind repeats it. He’s not entirely convinced by her words, but he doesn’t want to worsen this moment. He just wants Kotone around. Talk things out in this new perspective, even if it makes him, or even her, uncomfortable. “I mean, with what I know, she’s been doing well now. Always a beloved professor to her classes.”

“Are you not beloved by your students?”

“Well, I had my ups and downs… And—” He realizes Tone’s move. She's trying to change the subject and beating around the bush. “Wait… You’ve caught up with Yooyeon at the reunion, haven't you? Along with your fellow clubmates. She mentioned that. And you walked to us.”

“Ah…” She's running out of ramblings. Out of excuses. “We have, and she looks just as stunning as I last saw her. And most of the members were there, too. Jiwoo. Chaeyeon. Nakyoung-unnie. Everyone had a glow-up. They evolved. They were still so beautiful.”

And so are you. He can’t speak it out, feeling a part of himself keep such words from leaving his mouth. It’s usually not like this, and it’s bugging him.

“I love Yooyeon-unnie. She was always like a sister to me... But after finding out how successful she’s been, how all of them have been, even I knew that I couldn’t have compared to her in a lot of ways—”

“Don’t say that.” He didn’t know what just came to him, but he could only feel his heart constricting, hearing the woman compare herself to his old flame. Her own best friend. Deep down, he knows it’s not all of the sudden. “You’re saying nonsense now. Yooyeon and you are different. Don’t compare yourself to her, or anyone.”

She looks at him, her eyes a veil to various emotions. Disdain. Inferiority. Regret. Determination. Bitterness. Reassurance. False hope. “So how did you see me then, Myungsoo?”

He gulps down his own nervousness, hoping that her words in the past few minutes are simply the result of her less sober state. But he finally gets her to speak out. “Tone-yah. You must already be—”

“Drunk?” she scoffs, knowing him well. Quite too well. “I don’t know. I guess, we’ve had too many of those then. We’ve had this kind of talk too many times for me not to forget. You should know by now that this second bottle doesn’t faze me one bit…”

“Are you sure about that? Because it seems like—”

“I like you, oppa.”

He’s finally at a loss of words, but she still looks at him dead in the eye.

“All those years, I've been idiotic. I'm idiotic right now, too… Just risking our friendship for something I'm not even sure will go anywhere.”

Defeated and dumbfounded by his failure to realize it beforehand, he can only look down while she takes her fifteenth shot.

“I thought that making the reunion would make things like they used to,” she adds. “I mean for a night, it did… And I was so happy about that. I was overjoyed that I didn’t disappoint anyone who made it. Or myself. I mean I did get a promotion after that.”

She pours the last ounce of her bottle, before taking her sixteenth shot without pause. “And then I saw you and Yooyeon together. I know I was happy for you two back then. But, b-but I don't know how else to say it… Seeing you that night. It… It still hurts.”

He feels his heart sink deeper. “Kotone,” Myungsoo wants to say anything else, but he keeps his gaze at her. Amidst her words, he himself is paralyzed in this dilemma. He wants to open his mouth, but she continues her somber, tipsy confession.

She wants to cry. It’s what they usually do in dramas, but weirdly enough, there are no tears left for her tonight. The pang is there, burning through her raging heart with every word she mutters. But she won’t stop until she’s left it all out of her system. “And I know that you’re no longer together, but my stupid brain kept thinking that there could still be a slight chance… So I went up and ruined your moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he mumbles back.

“On second thought…” she wheezes, unable to defend her own face of smugness to him, even though he defended her. “Maybe I’ll regret this tomorrow. I’m sorry I wasted your time tonight.”

Slowly, he reaches his hand going to her shoulders, but her eyes catch it from the side. “Don't do anything you'll regret, oppa. Just because you feel bad for me.”

“Then I’ll regret it with you.” Myungsoo raises his bottle. Kotone wants to feel touched, but in her mind, she’s sensed this pattern that’s been irking her in the past few months since they’ve caught up. A pattern that lasted years. His willingness and enthusiasm to hang out with her whenever she invites him, without any question. His long ‘ride or die’ mentality whenever she’s on her low point or even when it’s the silliest of hypotheticals, like now. I know what you’re feeling, but don’t get your hopes up… That’s just how he’s been to you. You’re a close friend. His best girl friend. “Or not at all.”

= = =

“Hnggghhh… Huh..?” Despite feeling the irritating, inconvenient weight of her eye bags, as well as the unpleasant sensation of her parched throat, she opens them to find herself staring at a white ceiling.

Kotone wakes up on the snuggly surface of a bed that she has never lied on in her life, wrapped under a blanket. Inside, she slowly takes a peek of her own body—inducing a sigh of relief with what she has found. Her eyes wander around the room. She hears the door creak while it slowly opens. Her eyes light up in panic but she immediately catches a glimpse of Myungsoo’s face and his waving left hand from the other side as he walks in the bedroom with a mug of coffee. Of course, it’s him. There’s no escaping from this one. She places a nearby pillow on her face, muffling herself as she groans into the cushion.

“Good morn—” he quickly backtracks his choice of words, sensing the not too welcoming atmosphere inside his own room. Not to mention her perplexed face, from her eye bags to her slouched posture, and how she just acted after seeing him. “Or is it not a ‘good morning’ for you? We’re in my place, by the way, if you’re confused.”

“I’ve had worse… But this is a pretty nice bed. Great pillow too,” Kotone puts her right palm on her face, inevitably letting out a groan while her memories just had to remind her of last night. “God, that was really embarrassing of me…”

Myungsoo approaches the bed, sitting beside her. “This will help,” he hands over the mug, which she politely accepts with a slight bow.

“Thanks…” She blows it gently, before her lips touch the latte, welcoming the balance of bitter, sweet, and slightly salty taste entering her palate. “This is, uh, this is really good.”

He can’t help but chuckle, hoping that his lighthearted approach will lighten her up. “It’s from my go-to cafe… It’s just a three-minute walk from here. They’re pretty cheap, too.”

The woman takes another sip of the coffee, wanting to disrupt the silence between them while he waits for her.

“And, as embarrassing as it is,” he continues. “I think it’s not that uncommon to have moments like those. I would’ve brought up more memories myself too… But I think… We still have to talk about something about last night. If that’s fine with you…”

It’s time, she realizes. She places the cup on the nightstand.

“I, uhh, get what you mean, oppa. And, umm… I still mean it,” she tells him up front. “Whatever how you feel, that’ll be your feelings. I just…” She sighs. This shouldn’t be that dramatic, girl, she tells herself. “Confessed my own… And, I can’t take it back.”

He exhaled through his pursed lips. “Why take it back?” he shoots back.

“What?” Befuddled by his blunt response, she doesn’t know how to answer him.

But for Myungsoo, his heart isn’t lying. Neither is hers. “I’ve seen you as a friend for a long time, Kotone. But that doesn’t mean I never saw you as anything more than that.”

“What do you mean, Myungsoo?”

“I wasn’t sure because of how you and I acted whenever we're together… Maybe I was giving you too many mixed messages, ‘cause I kept holding myself back. Perhaps I was just scared that we'd lose everything we had if I said—or did anything funny... And with what happened last night, you were… A lot braver than I am.”

She let out a chuckle. He is not that different. Even he had his own hesitations.

“And with Yooyeon… Even she was bothered at times.” His hand clenches into a fist. “About us being close friends... But I know now, that's not on her. It’s on me. You were never a problem. I was being stubborn against myself, and I ended up breaking people’s hearts. I broke your heart, Kotone. I'm sorry because of that.”

In spite of their fifty-centimeter distance, Kotone doesn’t hesitate to hold his hand. “Don't blame yourself for everything, oppa.”

“I know, but sometimes, I still do. But I shouldn't be scared. And you made me realize that, Kotone... I’ve always treasured our friendship for what it was, but I'll always care about you more than that. Whatever we may be… I don't regret this.”

Dugeun, dugeun. Dugeun dugeun.

“I know it’s stupid to say it nowadays, but I’ve always seen you as a woman.”

His explanation makes her chortle, but such a reaction can't mask her true feelings.

“Myungsoo-oppa…” She stares at the man straight in his eyes. Such a patient yet longing and welcoming gaze from him is something she never thought she would ever get to see. She stands from her seat. “Would you… like to go out with me?”

He chuckles at her more or less act of formality. Instead of answering her with words, Myungsoo stands up and takes a few steps forward towards her, walking past the thin curtains of their friendship, and wraps his arms around the woman he’s been longing to embrace for a time only his beating heart can tell. Kotone tightens his embrace, closing her eyes. Both can only have a laugh, listening to each other’s heartbeats as if they’re headphones for only one ear, or a vibration speaker. He inches away, wanting to see her face.

Just as he expected. Her looking down on the floor, trying to cover up her blushing cheeks. “Yah… Why are you staring at me now?”

“Well, it’s…” He wants to tell her. Tell her an observation that he’s never told her before. “You look so cute… So beautiful... Just like that night. I mean, you always were. I’m sorry if I never got to tell you… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

With her lips shut in wonder, Kotone can’t shoot back a witty quip or begin another banter. This time, only her blushing cheeks and heartbeat answer to his straightforward praise. Not a teardrop is willing to leave her eyes once more, as today, her sense of triumph overcomes any other emotion.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, too,” she musters up to him. That weight on her heart begins to lift up, and it’s the best feeling she’s felt since their reunion.

Despite seeing her joy through her wide smile, Myungsoo senses her hesitation to move closer. He cups her cheeks, warming it up with his hands. Slowly, he pulls Kotone into his lips and tilts his head to the right. Their eyes close at the same time. He savors the sweet and bitter taste of the coffee from her lips, as well as the traces of the grapefruit soju in her mouth, as well as the scent of the fruity perfume he’s given to her. She gets a taste of his menthol toothpaste and a whiff of his aqua cologne; her hands hold on to his sloped shoulders. Feeling her body, his hands move over to her waist.

Their lips part for a second, albeit only to tilt their heads in the opposite direction before resuming their moment and intensifying it by pulling him closer, allowing her hands to clasp around him so they can savor each other’s touch more and feel each other longer.

= = =

The next one will definitely be a smut… I really gotta start writing shorter fics, lol. In the meantime, I'll keep reading and reblogging amazing fics from amazing writers, which I'm sure you're familiar with. As always, thanks for the read. 'til next time!

#male reader fluff #kpop au #kpop fluff #triples fluff #triples x reader #triples x male reader #kotone fluff

67 notes · View notes