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flowersforbucky · 11 months ago

Text

oil & water

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.8k

prompt - "If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so."

shout out to @ellemj for her encouragement with this ♡

warnings/tags: SMUT, vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receving), face sitting, mentions of violence, description of blood & wounds, no use of y/n, reader is afab, hurt/comfort trope, bickering & banter, friends to lovers, forced close proximity trope. 18 plus only!

“Roll your window up,” Bucky snaps at you as he turns down the music you had just put on moments ago. “The last thing we need is someone noticing the blood caked all over the entire right side of your body.”

As if the lack of functioning AC in the twenty-something year old getaway car (an early 2000’s model Chevy Aveo is inconspicuous, according to Sam) wasn’t stifling enough in the south Georgia summer, the annoyance radiating from the brooding super soldier sitting next to you adds an extra ten degrees.

Sure, Sam. Inconspicuous is the right word to describe a six foot, two hundred plus pound man with a metal arm cramped behind the driver’s seat of the equivalent to a clown car. Bright fucking cherry red and all.

“It’s 103 degrees outside.” You glare at him from the passenger seat, where you’re using a tattered handkerchief found in the glove compartment to put pressure on the knife wound on your shoulder. “I’m going to have a heatstroke.”

“You’re not going to have a heatstroke,” he rolls his eyes at you. “That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” you say under your breath, reluctantly rolling up the manual window with your still bleeding arm. “I got the fucking intel, did I not?”

You remove the USB drive from its secure location in the cup of your bra and flash it at Bucky. “Though we’ll be lucky if this thing still works after being drowned in boob sweat, since you won’t let me keep the window rolled down.”

“And nearly got yourself killed in the process.” He grabs the flashdrive from you and grimaces. “We’ll be at the safehouse in less than five minutes, if you can please just refrain from stroking out or bleeding out in the meantime.”

You glance down at the once white handkerchief clutched in your hand. “I’m not making you any guarantees.”

You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way, you resist adding.

Jokes aside, the energy exerted in bringing down over a dozen HYDRA agents in combination with the July heat and the substantial blood loss from your shoulder wound has you feeling woozier by the minute. Factor in a few potentially fractured ribs and a dislocated knee and you're in pretty rough shape.

As promised, just under five minutes later Bucky parks in front of a small trailer just outside the city limits of Valdosta. It's seen better days, but you don't mind as long as it has semi-functioning air conditioning.

Bucky is opening your car door and offering you a hand up before you can take in your surroundings. You force yourself out of your seat, ignoring his outstretched hand and attempting to stand on your own, doing your best to ignore the borderline blinding pain radiating from your right knee.

“Thanks, but I think I can–”

Your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble forward, right into Bucky's chest. Your hand instinctively clutches the fabric of his shirt as you attempt to regain your balance.

“Let me guess. You're capable of stitching up your own shoulder, too?”

He gently loops his arm around your waist, slowly walking the two of you to the front door of the trailer. You try to focus on keeping pressure on the gash on your shoulder and not the feeling of his toned body pressed against you. How does he smell so good after hand to hand combat and sitting in that sauna of a car? You're sure you probably smell like a wet diaper that's been left in the sun for–

Bucky opens the door and guides you inside. The interior of the safehouse is surprisingly homey and clean. It's still uncomfortably warm, but offers a nice reprieve from the violent mid-day sun.

Bucky leads you into the small living space before maneuvering you out of his hold, where you all but collapse onto a suede sofa.

“I guess you do have some amount of good luck, after all,” you mumble, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky glances at you from over his shoulder as he flicks on the AC.

“That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck,” you quote his sarcastic comment from the car ride.

“Ha-ha-ha,” he fake laughs just as you did. He rummages through a few cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen before finding everything he’s searching for, then makes his way back to where you are on the couch.

“Drink this.” He hands you a bottle of water that you hadn't even noticed him grab. For once you don't object to his instructions, uncapping the bottle and gulping down the contents as quickly as you can.

“You're not having a heatstroke,” he assures you. “But you are going to have to let me stitch up this crater on your shoulder and pop your knee back into place.”

You sit forward, removing the now fully soaked cloth that you've been holding to your shoulder for the last half hour.

Bucky winces at the sight of it, handing you a dishrag before opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You might want to bite down on–”

“I know the drill.” You sigh before putting the rag between your teeth.

He hesitates for a moment before pouring the clear liquid over the wound. You groan against the rag, your eyes squint shut in pain. You've had your fair share of broken bones and black eyes working in this field, but you don't think you'll ever get used to the pain of getting stitches without the comforts of saline solution and anesthesia.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dabbing the cut dry with a paper towel.

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “It's part of the job. I've come out of missions worse than this before,” you shrug, squeezing the dish rag he gave you until your knuckles go white as he makes the first incision.

“Never because of me.”

You glance at him, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. His gaze doesn't leave the thread and needle that he's using to close up the gash on your arm - his normally plump pout set into a hard line.

“You know this isn't your fault, right?” You keep your eyes locked on him. “I saw that guy coming at you out of nowhere and I panicked. I wasn't watching my own back. That's my fault, not yours,” you say earnestly.

“If you say so.” He glances up for a split second, giving you a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“Is that why you've been such a grouch? You're blaming yourself for me not being careful enough?”

“Maybe,” he admits quietly. “Or maybe I just hate seeing you covered in blood for any reason.”

You freeze at the bluntness of his words. You and Bucky have been partners on more missions than you could count at this point - you know that he would have done the same for you if the situation had been reversed; in fact, there had been times where he had taken the brunt of the fight in order to protect you.

All of those instances suddenly flash through your mind.

The time he used himself as a human shield when there was a bomb set off during a recon mission at a warehouse in Tokyo. Or when he football tackled you out of the direct line of an incoming dagger during an operation in Portland. Not to mention the time he left a job all the way in Prague unfinished because he merely suspected you had a concussion.

You had always chalked it up to “that’s what partners do,” but the pained expression on his face as he refuses to meet your eyes has you questioning if there could possibly be more to it.

No. You’re his partner. He’d do the same for anyone else. He wouldn’t want to see anyone on his team covered in blood if he could prevent it.

The two of you sit in a thick silence while he finishes stitching you up.

“There,” he says at last, clipping the excess suture thread with scissors. “Not quite as good as your stitch work, but I think it’ll hold you together.” His voice isn’t as strained as it was moments ago, though you can't help but notice it sounds forced.

“Thank you,” you tell him, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed the tiniest bit at his compliment. “Now for the really fun part,” you add, staring at your throbbing knee.

“You’re in luck,” he says, perking up a bit. “I’ve popped my own knees back into place an embarrassing amount of times, so this should be a breeze.” He repositions himself to have better access to your leg, moving off the couch to perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You attempt to pull the tight fabric of your tactical pants up enough to give him unhindered access to your knee, but it’s too restrictive, immediately causing you to wince in pain.

“Fuck,” you huff. “I’m going to have to take these off.” You pop the button at the top of your pants and begin to push them down your thighs before insecurity can get the better of you. You try not to think about the fact that Bucky's never seen you in such little clothing - pants now pushed down to your calves, only your underwear and the bra and thin tank top you wore underneath the tactical vest that you took off as soon as you were in the safety of the getaway car left to cover you.

Hesitation flashes across Bucky’s face for a brief moment before he scoots over slightly, moving directly in front of you so that he can position his hands on either side of your kneecap. You’re painfully aware of the polar opposite feeling of his right and left hand - his flesh hand is warm and so much softer than you’d expect, his metal one icy and smooth. You aren’t sure which causes the visible goosebumps that now litter your skin.

Maybe it’s not his touch at all. Maybe it’s the way his eyes haven’t left your thighs since you exposed them.

Maybe it’s the fact that if you parted your legs just a few inches, he’d be nestled between them.

Chill out, you berate yourself. He's just relocating your knee for Christ's sake.

“On the count of three,” he starts and you brace yourself. ��One, two–”

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You yell out at the same moment your knee creates a loud cracking noise that echoes off the walls of the small trailer. “You said count of three!”

“Would that really have made it less painful?” He shrugs, but doesn't move from where his knees brush against yours. “I think what you mean to say is “thank you, Bucky, you're a lifesaver and I'm now in your debt.”

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” you scoff. “I'm going to wash all of this blood and sweat off of me.” You move to push yourself off of the couch, tugging your pants back up as you stand. You can feel his eyes trail up your body as you do, making you feel woozy all over again. You turn away from him, heading towards the hallway that the bathroom is likely located down.

“I could have done that through your pants, by the way.”

You freeze mid-step, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?” You snap at him.

“Your knee,” he clarifies, a hint of undeniable mischief in his expression. “I could have popped your knee back into place through your pants. If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so.”

Just when you thought the safehouse was starting to cool down, your entire body heats up a thousand degrees. You're racking your brain trying to think of a retort when Bucky's ringtone starts blaring from the kitchen countertop. He ignores it, his eyes not leaving yours for what feels like an eternity.

You finally break the silence. “That's most likely Sam wanting to make sure we're not dead. Should probably answer it.”

“Probably should,” he smirks, and at last gets up from the coffee table to answer the phone.

You scurry the rest of the way to the bathroom before he can look back at you again, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from your ribcage and the now dull ache that spreads from your knee.

You turn the water to cold, and don't get out until you've started to shiver.

— — — — —

When you exit the bathroom and step back into the connected bedroom in only a towel, you see that Bucky has done you the kindness of bringing in the bags that had been stored in the backseat of the getaway car.

You dig through your backpack, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and pair of leggings. From the next room, you can smell the aroma of whatever non-perishable food that Bucky has scrounged together. Despite your growing hunger pains, you take your sweet time combing through your freshly rinsed hair. The thought of looking Bucky in the eye after your last interaction nearly makes you lose your appetite.

What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't thinking at all, otherwise I wouldn't have just pushed my fucking pants down right in front of–

“Your five course dinner is getting cold.” Bucky raps his fingers against the bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts.

“Be right there,” you call back to him, swiping some deodorant under your arms. You take a glance at yourself in the bedroom’s small vanity mirror and immediately wish that you hadn't – you're cleaner than you were by miles, at least no longer covered in your own blood as well as the blood of HYDRA agents – but your cheekbone is lightly bruised, there's a slit on your bottom lip, and the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month.

You take a deep breath and then walk back to the one room that makes up the kitchen, dining area and living room.

“Beef or shrimp ramen?” Bucky asks as you climb onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he's standing.

“Hm,” you contemplate, not meeting his stare and instead occupying yourself with another bottle of water that he's placed where you now sit.

Fucker probably wouldn't fluster me so bad if he wasn't being so damn thoughtful.

“I'll go with shrimp,” you answer, remembering that beef is his favorite.

He slides the bowl across the counter and then hands you a fork. You finally get the nerve to look up and meet his stare that feels as if it weighs two tons.

“So, what did Sam say?” You try to go for light conversation, twisting the fork around your noodles. “Are we free to get out of here once it's dark out?”

“Not…quite,” he hesitates, now seeming particularly interested in his own food. “The car battery kind of died.”

“What do you mean the car battery kind of died?”

“While you were in the shower, I tried to move the car behind the house so that anyone driving by wouldn't immediately know that someone's here. It started fine, but as I was driving it around back it just.. stopped. Had to push it the rest of the way.”

You let out a dramatic groan as he continues.

“I called Sam again and he said the earliest they can send someone to get us is in the morning.”

“Well,” you exhale, blowing a raspberry with your lips. “We can flip a coin to see who gets the bed?” You ask lightheartedly. This isn’t the first time that you and Bucky have had an overnight mission together, but it is the first overnight mission where the two of you haven’t had your own motel rooms or at least a safehouse with two beds.

He looks at you quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows. “You really think there’s a chance of me making you sleep on the couch? In your condition?”

“My condition?” you laugh. “I’ve got a few stitches, I’m not dying of cancer.”

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way it’s uncomfortable for you to inhale and exhale? You’ve probably got a couple fractured ribs with the way you landed on that cement. If not fractured, then at least heavily bruised. You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Between his tone and the look on his face, you know it isn’t up for debate. You throw your hands up in faux surrender.

“Serving me instant ramen and letting me take the king sized bed?” you say teasingly. “Keep it up and I'm going to think that you're soft on me.”

His gaze on you is heavy as he takes a long sip of water from his own bottle. “Wouldn't that be a shame?”

— — — — —

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you lounging in bed, resting your injuries and reading some cheesy western romance novel that you found in the drawer of the bedside table.

Bucky keeps to the living room, where you hear a violent sounding movie playing from a TV that has to be as old as you are.

You tell yourself that you're staying in the bedroom because you need to take it easy and relax, but truthfully you feel suffocated by the tension that has been escalating between you and Bucky since you arrived here.

A certain level of tension had always been there, you knew deep down. From the first time the two of you met almost two years ago.

Bucky had been formally introduced to the team just a few weeks prior, and it was his first official mission. An undercover mission - just the two of you.

Posing as an engaged couple at a party thrown at the estate of a notorious crime boss in order to obtain intel. Pretty straight forward - it was far from your first undercover mission. And then it was sprung on you at the last minute that the man who you'd only met once, less than a month ago, was to be your fiancé for the evening.

The bastard even went as far as to slip the fake engagement ring on your finger himself.

“Natasha picked this out. She said it needed to be a princess cut, because that's what you like.”

You chuckled as he went to slide the rock onto your ring finger. “What? You're not going to get down on one knee?”

The mission went shockingly smooth, you and Bucky were in and out with the needed intel in just a few hours. But those few hours replayed in the back of your mind more often than you care to admit.

The way his arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulder or waist the entire hour that you mingled as guests. How he pulled you into a slow dance to discuss the plan for sneaking into the study on an off-limits floor. The musky smell of his aftershave and the spearmint on his breath.

And especially the way he referred to you as his “bride” when introducing yourselves to people, on more than one occasion throughout the night.

“And who is this absolutely beautiful young woman on your arm?” an elderly man with eye boogers and booze on his breath asks Bucky.

“This is my bride,” Bucky introduces you, giving him your undercover name. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Most beautiful woman here, if I do say so myself.”

Saying that Bucky played his part well that night would have been an understatement. Saying that he played his part scarily well would be a more accurate assertion.

After grabbing the intel and fleeing the scene, neither of you ever mentioned that mission again. Not the lingering touches, smoldering stares - not even the way he shoved you up against the wall of a corridor, cupped your face in his large hands, and kissed you senseless for half a minute when you came close to getting caught sneaking into the private office by security at the very end of the evening.

“Do you think that was believable?” he asks nervously, his hands still clutching your face as he looks around the hallway for any lingering guards.

“Ye-yeah,” you stutter breathily. “As believable as it possibly could be.”

There’s a light knock on the partially open bedroom door that draws you back to the reality of the safehouse. You realize that you’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your book for the last half hour.

"Yeah?” you answer, bringing yourself to a sitting position.

Bucky peaks his head around the door, opening it further so that you can see what he is carrying.

“I’m tired of watching old James Bond movies,” he sighs, glancing between you and the stack of board games in his arms. “I found these in the TV stand.”

“I kicked your ass in Battleship last time we played,” you remind him. “Do you really want a rematch of that?”

“How about we make a bet?”

— — — — —

Half an hour later, you've eaten your own words, now owing Bucky a large meat lovers pizza from his favorite parlor in Brooklyn and two weeks worth of laundry duty when you return to the compound.

“How'd you get so good?” you demand as he makes the winning attack. “You were so lame at this last time.”

“Maybe I just let you win last time,” he shrugs with a shit-eating grin.

You just shake your head in defeat, wincing as you stand up from where you had been playing on the shag area rug in the living room.

“No,” you declare firmly. “No, I don't believe that. There's no way you'd willingly let me win anything. I've learned that the hard way during hand to hand combat training way too many times.”

Bucky belly laughs from where he still sits on the floor, his gaze trailing after you.

You walk over to where he has piled the board games on the coffee table, trying to find something you were confident you could win.

Monopoly isn't fun with only two players, Risk takes too long —

Your eyes lock onto a card game peeking out from underneath the Sorry! box.

You pick it up, turning back to face him with a growing smile on your face.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “I'm over a hundred years old–”

“What does age have to do with truth or dare?!” You exclaim, sitting back down on the floor once more.

“I haven't been roped into a game of truth or dare since the 1930's,” he groans.

“Scared of what you might have to do?” You tease, unboxing the cards. “Or what you might have to admit?”

He stares at you for a long moment, pursing his lips. The disapproval doesn't quite reach his eyes - you can tell by the way they gleam that he's going to cave.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits. He tousles his fingers through his hair and moves to cross his legs at the ankles. “Fine,” he relents. “One game.”

You squeal like a kid in a candy store as you shuffle the deck of cards and lay them in a stack between you.

“Elders first,” you motion to the pile.

He rolls his eyes, drawing one from the top – dare.

“Smell another player's armpit,” he deadpans. You're instantly thankful that you remembered to cram a stick of deodorant into your backpack when packing for the mission.

“Well?” You lift up your arm. “I'm the only other player here and it's not going to sniff itself.”

Bucky sighs, leaning across the game to put his nose directly next to the opening of your t-shirt sleeve. “Lavender,” he observes after inhaling, giving you an approving nod. “As far as dares go, I got lucky.”

“Lucky that I showered earlier,” you mumble as you draw your turn, your cheeks warming slightly.

Truth.

“Who was your last kiss with and what was it like?”

Your heart plummets to your stomach as you read the words aloud. Bucky waits impatiently as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your hands.

“Might I remind you, you are the one who wanted to play this game so desp–”

You hold up a finger and make a shushing sound, silencing him as he grins menacingly.

“My last kiss was almost two years ago,” you answer honestly, looking back down at the card to avoid his stare. He can always tell when you're lying, why even try?

“With a man I barely knew,” you continue. “We had to pretend to be in love for the evening. It was a shockingly easy thing to do. When he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me as a distraction to security guards, I had to remind myself that it was an act. We never spoke about it again. But now two years later, I'm telling him that I think of that kiss often.”

When you finally look up, you can't decipher the look on his face. Long gone is the mischievous grin from just moments ago, in its place is.. shock? Perplexity?

“And why exactly have you not kissed anyone else since then?” He asks quietly.

“Nope,” you say, popping your lips on the p. “That's not how the game works, you don't get to add sub-questions.”

His eyes don't leave yours as he draws his next card.

His turn for truth. He glances down to read his question.

“Have you ever wanted to have sex with any of the players?”

Forget your cheeks feeling warm - your entire body feels like it's on fire as you wait for him to answer.

He chuckles, tossing the card on top of the other two that had already been picked.

“Every goddamn day since I kissed her almost two years ago.”

You aren't sure which one of you snaps first. You lunge forward at the same moment that he's leaning across the splay of cards to grasp your face in his hands just like he did in that corridor two years ago. The same hint of spearmint on his breath, a bit more stubble on his jaw, and a sense of desperation that wasn't there before.

He moves his hands to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as you both sit on your knees. Your own hands find the hem of his shirt, your fingers dancing across the skin of his waistline.

“I asked you why you haven't kissed anyone since we last kissed,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, both of you breathless. “You don't have to answer, but that..” his mouth moves to the side of your throat where he trails open-mouth kisses across the sensitive flesh of your pulse point.

“That's why I haven't kissed anyone else, either.”

A pathetic, small moan escapes past your lips at his admission. In a split second decision, you take control. You place your hands across his chest, pushing him down onto the shag rug that you'd been playing games on just moments ago. He lets himself fall back, pulling you with him.

You straddle him, positioning yourself directly on his already evident erection. You drag yourself forwards, and then backwards, desperate for friction - he groans beneath you, jutting upwards.

The fabric of your pants between you feels like a prison.

You scoot back a few inches - just far enough to give yourself enough room to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait, wait,” he stops you as you're about to begin pulling down his pants and underwear. You freeze, petrified that you've crossed a line–

“I haven't stopped thinking about having your thighs wrapped around my head since I saw them earlier,” he says as he hooks his hands around them and hauls you up to his chest. “Take these off and sit on my face.” He tugs on the waistline of your leggings.

“If you wanted me to take my pants off for you so badly, you could have just said so,” you echo his earlier teasing.

“I'm asking you now, sweetheart,” his voice has a strained edge to it. “Don't make me beg.”

Though the notion of him begging has wetness pooling down your thighs, you're too eager to entertain it.

You stand up, directly above him as he keeps his position on the floor. You shimmy your leggings down your thighs, this time completely removing them and tossing them somewhere behind you. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it in the general direction of your discarded pants.

With you still standing above him, he leans forward so that his face brushes against the inside of your thighs. He brings his hands to the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers and slowly pulling them down until they're at your ankles.

You slip them off as he lays back down on the floor. A bit apprehensively, you sit so that your bare pussy is against his hard chest.

“Just stop me if it's too uncomfortable or if you can't breathe or any–”

He cuts you off by all but picking you up and hauling you up to his face.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” his voice vibrates against the flesh of your innermost thighs. He tugs you down just one more inch so that his mouth makes contact with your center.

You gasp out in pleasure as his tongue begins exploring your folds. There's no restraint about it - he sets a brutal pace, alternating between fucking his tongue into your cunt and sucking on your clit.

You're writhing above him, grinding your pussy against his mouth. You go to squeeze your breasts, pulling your t-shirt off when you realize it's the one clothing article you've yet to shed.

When he realizes that you're now completely naked above him, he lets out an animalistic groan as he laps a thick lick up your center.

The vibration, in addition to him now squeezing your ass with enough pressure that he's bound to leave behind fingertip shaped bruises, is enough to send you spiraling to your climax.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs around his cheeks, riding out your orgasm as he continues to wrap his lips around your throbbing clitoris.

You go still for a moment, aside from your heaving chest, as you come back down to earth.

You climb off of him, your jellified legs nearly causing you to collapse onto the floor next to him.

He props himself up with one arm, looking down at you. His face is thoroughly glistening with your juices.

You can't help but think he's never looked hotter.

A proud grin begins to form across his features as you pull him down to you by the back of his neck.

You kiss him with as much feverency as you can muster in your post orgasm haze, tasting the semi-sweet tang of your come on his lips and tongue.

“It's your turn to get these off,” you demand, drawing back from the kiss to pull at the waistband of his pants.

“Can I at least take you to the comfy bed before this goes any further?” he bargains. “You are still recovering from multiple injuries, you know.”

“I can assure you that I've never felt better.” But you let him have his way. He stands before picking you up, lifting you so that you can wrap your legs securely around his midsection. His large hands planted firmly on your ass, he walks the short distance to the bedroom. Your nipples pebble as they press against his bare chest.

He gently places you on top of the comforter before standing back, at last removing his jeans and boxers. His cock springs forward, slapping against his lower belly.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. If it had been a long time since you had been kissed, it had been even longer since you had been fucked.

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above where you lay. You automatically open your legs to allow him between them.

His eyes rake up and down your body, pausing on your breasts.

"You're goddamn stunning.”

Before you can respond, he's leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth, the sensation has you arching your back into his touch. You can feel the tip of his cock jutting against your core - teasing but not yet entering.

He starts to line himself up at your hole, his eyes locking onto yours as he pumps himself in his hand. He brings his lips down to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the same moment he nudges his tip past your entrance.

There's a blissful burn as he cautiously buries himself inside you - you're simultaneously thankful that he's going slow and needing him balls deep. He pushes in, inch by inch, until you're filled to the hilt. When he can't get any deeper, he pulls back - and slams back into you all at once.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach. You look down at where your bodies connect, the sight of him sliding in and out of you enough to have you on the edge of climaxing again already.

He brings his metal hand to knead your breast.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've pictured having you under me like this?” He coos. You gyrate your hips to meet his thrusts, causing his eyes to roll back into his head.

“How many times I've thought about what your little moans would sound like?”

Your only answer is a gutteral moan of his name as you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into the flesh of his back.

“Your pussy feels even more like heaven than I imagined it would.”

His praises send you over the edge - you're coming for a second time, clenching around him as his thrusts grow messy. He fucks you through your orgasm before he loses control himself, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he spills into you.

With you still panting and limp beneath him, his movements gradually come to a stop but he doesn't pull out - instead he flips you to your side and maneuvers himself into a spooning position behind you.

He peppers soft kisses along the skin of your shoulder, being careful to avoid your stitches, and relaxes beside you.

“Remind me to dislocate my knee more often,” you joke, processing everything that just happened.

He snorts, then tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Remind me to play truth or dare with you more often.” He captures your lips in his, this kiss slower than any of the ones before.

“I guess it would be weird to make you do my laundry for two weeks now, huh?” He teases, earning a laugh from you.

“You do still owe me a pizza, but I'll be happy to share it with you.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #pvris #oil & water #oil & water by pvris #song fic

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rallamajoop · 2 years ago

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The Complete Guide to Eye Colour In Resident Evil 8

Alright. I've cracked open the game files to extract every eye-related asset I could find. I've installed a bunch of mods to let me remove face coverings and zoom all the way in on the RE8 model viewer. Let's settle this one once and for all!

The short version, for those who just want a cheat sheet:

Ethan Winters: Hazel

Miranda & the Four Lords: Various greys

Bela, Cassandra and Daniela: Yellow

Mia, Rose, Chris and the Duke: Blue

Every local villager: Blue

Most of these are, of course, open to some interpretation, even beyond the usual scope for debating the exact line between grey and blue, etc. Does the eye colour on Ethan's model even count as canon, when you never see it in game? Does Donna's, when her eyes are either hidden behind a veil or vanishing as the light fades from them? It's up to you. But have some longer notes below.

Ethan

For Ethan, I could not get a good shot of his in-game model even with mods, so the render comes from Noesis (a tool for viewing game assets). His eyes are a sorta dark-blue-brown, which I think I can safely class as 'hazel' under the standard definition of "kinda brown, but not, like, brown-brown".

Unsurprisingly, the texture for Ethan's eyes has barely changed from the one in RE7 (lower resolution, and with a larger pupil than most in RE8) ‒ because why update what won't even be seen? But they're still distinctly different from every other character in either game, so I like to see hazel-eyed-Ethan as the official version myself.

Miranda and the Four Lords

Genetically unrelated though they may all be, Miranda and her four "children" all have some variant of washed-out-blue-grey-eyes ‒ even Moreau, who has the least human-looking eyes in the family. Is the mould a factor? (Insert your own theories here!)

Donna's eyes look brown in her portrait, and I would not blame anyone for taking that as more definitive than her character model. But the portrait is dark and fairly low-resolution, and her eyes are very pale in death, so I'd still tend towards the grey-blue of the model myself.

For such different characters, Dimitrescu and Heisenberg's very-pale-grey eyes are remarkably similar. Even Donna's are arguably just a darkened version of the same colouration, and all three have areas of orange-brown discolouration near their pupils.

Apparently this counts as a form of heterochromia ("central heterochromia"), which gets some people very excited. Realistically though, this particular form of heterochromia is so common that you probably don't even notice it most of the time (pick an eye colour, plug it into google image search, and I guarantee you will find examples without even looking for them).

The same central-orange-brown-region is also present for Mia, baby Rose, and Ethan ‒ you can even see a traces of the same in the Baker family (though not Miranda herself). And it's tempting to start to theorise that blue/grey-eyes-with-brown-centres are a symptom of mould-infection ‒ but then, two of the five members of Chris' team have it too, as well as some of the villagers. It's not there for every blue-eyed character in this game, but it's probably just one of Capcom's standard ways of adding a little realistic variation to eye textures.

All that said, Heisenberg, Dimitrescu and Miranda's eyes are so pale that they look just a little bit unnatural, and I'd be very surprised if that wasn't deliberate.

As for mutated forms, Heisenberg is the only one whose monster-form maintains his original eyes ‒ though they're darknened by a heavy pink overlay, which looks even more extreme to me in his game model than it does in the asset, so there's probably another layer of filters on top of it.

Dimitrescu and Moreau just get pupil-less white eyes in their own monster forms (though Moreau certainly gets plenty of other monster-eyes elsewhere on his body). And Miranda gets just one weird eye in the middle of her forehead, for whatever reason. Other monsters in this game have all manner of different eyes, probably just whatever the designer thought looked cool ‒ there's no one, consistent mould-infection-standard, just an awful lot of bizarre individual variation.

Bela, Cassandra and Daniella

All have unnatural yellow eyes, which I think we can take as a cadou-fly-people trait. Their eyes are so consistent they all seem to use the same eye-texture-asset between the three of them, so I haven't bothered including it three times.

There's also one official render of Lady Dimitrescu which gives her almost-glowing yellow eyes, though there's a yellow tint to all the light in the picture, so it may just be reflecting ambient lighting. Still, if you want to theorise she can make her eyes do that, that pic's arguably as canon as anything else.

Rosemary Winters

Rose's eyes seem to change a little between her baby stage and her teen years, losing those brown centres, though they're still a similar blue otherwise. The much stranger thing is that both baby and teen Rose's models have two slightly different extra red eye textures included alongside the standard blue ones, and I could not tell you what they're for.

Possibly there's some way of superimposing the red over the blue base to create the glowing-white-eyes you see when she uses her powers. But that doesn't happen until the DLC (which has even more confusing eye textures which might work for this purposes), and never to baby Rose, so I'm not entirely convinced. Were Rose's eyes supposed to flash red at some point in development? I have no idea.

Mia and Chris

Get grouped together because both appeared in RE7, where their models had brown eyes instead of blue. This makes more sense for Chris, whose model was completely redesigned for RE8, but what's going on with Mia? Her eyes are the same colour before and after she's infected in RE7, and her eyes only get even more brown when she's being mind-controlled, so I don't think we can blame the mould. I'm going to have to assume Capcom just changed them when they reworked her model for RE8 (which has changed, if not nearly so much as Chris') and didn't notice, or didn't expect anyone in the audience would.

I could not actually find any textures for Chris' eyes in the RE7 files, probably because he only shows his face in cutscenes stored in video format, but here's a close-up pic anyway.

The Villagers (and the Duke)

There are 8 named villager characters in the village files, but only five different eye textures to share between them ‒ and two of those are just lightly-adjusted variants on one of the first three. Luiza's model doesn't even have textures for her eyes ‒ I assume her model just references eyes from one of the first five.

Below in order are Elena, Leonardo, Roxana (the other woman at Luiza's), Griggori (man with the gun who Ethan meets first), and finally, the common texture used by Anton, Iulian, Sebastian, and even the Duke. Maybe we can blame inbreeding.

I doubt there's any important buried lore to be found in the fact the Duke has the same eyes as half the village, it's probably just a texture the developers liked using for characters whose eyes would never have to be seen up close.

Chris' Team

Yet more pseudo-canonical eyes, never actually seen in game. But they do all have detailed face models (you can reveal them with mods), probably because there were plans to give them bigger roles earlier in development. Their eye textures are an a different format to the usual, possibly because their models are invisible and incomplete, but they do match what that mod reveals.

The team are notable mostly for containing some of the very few white-skinned but brown-eyed characters in the game (the mother and daughter on the bus from Rose's epilogue are the only others) ‒ though the team isn't all white anyway.

And having now spent way too long digging into this subject, I'm not totally sure Capcom is aware that green eyes are a thing that a) exist, and b) can be as common as blue in some parts of Europe, because Eveline is the only person in this game with green eyes, and she's just a hallucination.

What colour eyes do white people have again? Blue, right? Blue eyes for everyone!

You may draw your own conclusions.

#Resident Evil Village #Karl Heisenberg #Alcina Dimitrescu #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Ethan Winters #Mia Winters #Rosemary Winters #Chris Redfield #The Duke #Mother Miranda #RE assets #unused assets #meta #eye colours

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oxenfreeao3 · 1 year ago

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I need Caitlyn “if I cannot become ungovernable I will become the government” Kiramman to have a full-on Machiavellian anti-hero arc so that The General Public finally takes her seriously.

Analysis:

I've mentioned it before, but Caitlyn's character embodies nearly all the traits of a Machiavellian with high cognitive empathy.

Firstly and most obviously, she manipulates systems and people to accomplish her goals. Vi would still be in Stillwater and much of Act II and III would not have happened if Caitlyn weren't willing to cleverly and unscrupulously lie and forge her way to success.

We can argue she's not a very good liar. I argue that doesn't really matter. One, her lies work. Two, she is clearly ready and willing to deceive so long as she thinks it's for a good reason. The inclination is what matters. I think the important question to ask is, "What is this character willing do to?"

Secondly, she's huge on agency. It's one of the main features of her character. She demonstrates (from the five-factor model): achievement-striving, assertiveness, self-confidence, emotional invulnerability, activity, and competence.

Regarding emotional invulnerability. I want to touch on this because I think it's missed. Caitlyn is an extremely guarded character. She reveals almost no personal information about herself, even to Vi. During high-stress situations, she flinches from her own vulnerability, tries to play it off, or compartmentalizes heavily.

Vi is the bleeding heart, the open book, the one who can't guard worth a damn (it's not even subtext, other characters say this to her face and I believe it has a dual meaning).

Meanwhile, Caitlyn waits until Vi is vulnerable with her and shows her respect before even giving Vi her name. (I have more to say about the "Cupcake" scene but that's for another time).

Other aspects of a Machiavellian character include:

Cynicism, selfishness, callousness, arrogance, deliberation and orderliness.

I argue that Caitlyn's character hints at the first one, gets away with the next three because she's "sweet," and blatantly embodies the last two.

Caitlyn in S1 is a sharp edge sheathed in kindness. We like what she's currently doing and think she's a Good Person because her trajectory aligns with our own sense of right and wrong. But Caitlyn is doing what she wants. What she thinks is right. Again, it's not subtext.

Marcus: "She does whatever she wants, I can't control her!"

And in S2, I think the same behaviors we currently love in her could easily be used to spin her down a corruption arc that leaves us a bit aghast -- but shouldn't leave us surprised.

I argue such an arc would be squarely in character.

Paraphrasing from the AMA:

"Everyone is a little bit opposite of who they are in Season One."

What will that mean for Caitlyn?

I don't know, but the recipe for a very interesting time is written all over her character.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #league of legends #arcane analysis #machiavellianism #character analysis #caitvi #violyn #piltoversfinest #vi #manifesting unhinged Caitlyn in Season 2

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celestiaras · 27 days ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ slacker ]❜

ft. kaelix debonair x f! reader — by the beat, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ kaelix is already on thin ice for slacking off, but you're always testing the breaking point┊1.3k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub kaelix┊established relationship, quickies, riding, unprotected piv, marking, voyerism kink(?), getting walked in on by zeal

➤ author's note: finally posted, everyone cheer and clap for me for something that is too long to be a drabble but too short to be a fic but i’m trying to make more time to write (i’ve been saying that for months when will i change)!! meli is singlehandedly carrying the niji x reader scene and i need to help support (ilysm if you're reading this btwww mwah)

if you must know, kaelix never slacks off on purpose. he’s as dedicated to his job as can be… but it isn’t really much to begin with. he can’t help it, he’s simply unable to stand in a single spot all night and spend hours checking people to ensure that they were old enough to enter and be drinking. there’s rarely ever an issue of disruptive patrons at this establishment, and if there is, the other boys usually are able to shut it down before they need him to help. he shouldn’t be complaining; he gets paid nicely to just stand there and look intimidating enough to give potential rabble-rousers second thoughts, but he wishes there could be some more action where he could put his skills to use.

the highlight of his job is often seeing you show up on a friday or saturday, dressed all pretty in a cute dress and wearing glittery makeup that makes your eyes pop. your friends love this place so much that they often drag you out on the weekends to party, drink the night away, and dance with attractive strangers. it’s fun for the first hour or two, but you always eventually find yourself searching for your boyfriend during his break in need of a breather from the loud music, bright lights, and sweaty crowds.

sometimes there’s a story to tell about, maybe about how some guy tried to hit on you or how kaelix had to escort a drunk businessman off the premises. sometimes you sit in comfortable silence, sipping on sodas and scrolling on your phones, occasionally showing each other interesting things before giggling like school children because you both were too exhausted to do anything more. today, you both find yourselves unable to keep your hands off each other on the couch as you press into his body with your thighs wrapped around his torso, his tinted glasses slowly slipping out of place as he loses the battle of dominance between you. he could taste the liquor on your lips from earlier, getting drunk on the taste.

“god, you’re going to be the death of me,” you whined breathlessly with your hands reaching down to begin undoing his belt.

“h-hold on, wait— i only have two minutes left before i need to get back to work—”

“oh, are you really planning to go back to work in this state?” you teased, pressing into the notable tent in his gray trousers and giggling as he let out a groan. “it’s not like you’re a model employee, come on, just five minutes— four minutes— to blow off some steam then i’ll be out of your hair!”

he swallowed nervously, the feeling quickly being drowned by excitement getting shot through his veins like electricity. he shouldn’t be allowing this, he really shouldn’t be when he was already in hot water after getting scolded by freodore yesterday for slacking off. still, he couldn’t help but let out a pathetic moan into the palm of his hands as he tried his best to muffle his sinful sounds when you finally allow him to sink into where you needed him most. he can’t ever say no to you, but it’s like he wanted to now with your hands gripping hard onto his broad shoulder and your hips starting to work their way up and down his cock.

there’s always a certain high that comes with the risk factor of possibly getting caught in such a compromising situation. the risk of getting caught and the rush of chasing your climax always gives an edge to this compromising situation that can’t be replicated. maybe the two of you have been fucking around like this in hidden corners of the club more times than either of you would like to admit, weak to the convenient thrill that would also ruin both your reputations if found out. not that either of you cared at the moment, so wrapped up in each other that it seemed like nothing in the world could take your attention off the other.

“ah, fuck,” you breathed out, pulling his hand away from your waist to your core instead, lazily moving the pad of his slightly calloused thumb around your clit so he would follow suit, “touch me here, please.”

kaelix was absolutely addicted to the soft little gasps escaping from your lips, swallowing your sounds with his tongue in your mouth, and trying to fight you for just a little bit more dominance in this dance. it was a useless attempt though, he was already so lost in the pleasure of your body on his that he didn’t even know up from down. the way he sunk into your heat so easily with nothing but pure arousal acting as lubricant, the way your hands were pulling at his top to feel his skin underneath, the way you whined out his name each time his upward thrusts had the head of his cock kissing the sensitive spot within you, everything was driving him just as insane as he would be if you were laid out before him in lacy lingerie for him to take his time with. it made his head spin knowing a goddess come to earth like you was his.

“just a bit more, please—” he gasped, “i’m so close— fuck!”

you couldn’t help but giggle at how his pathetic tone of voice was, making him whimper with every drag of his cock against your velvety walls. “see, i told you all i needed was four minutes to get you off. isn’t spending quality time with your girlfriend like this so much more fun than checking id’s?”

of course, he could hardly answer and only ended up choking on the words he intended to say as you moved to his neck, sucking on a sensitive spot under his jaw until a pretty purple blemish appeared— just in case someone else gets the idea to hit on him when he’s back on the clock, they’ll quickly get the hint that he’s already taken.

and that little hint of possessiveness is all it takes for him to unravel just as you pull yourself off of him, vision sparking white like fireworks and a shudder of hot relief washing over him with his cum sticking to your inner thighs. his muscles relaxed, and he probably would have collapsed if he hadn’t been supported by the cushions of the sofa. it slightly embarrassed him that he felt so fatigued after just a few minutes of action, but you understood that it’s already been a long night for him and he needed to get some edge off before the final few hours of his shift.

“kaelix, what the fuck are you doing? we need you to—” the two of you gasped as a familiar bartender burst through the door, his eyes landing on the two of you before they immediately screwed shut tightly with regret and placing his hand on his face with a groan. “of course, out of all the things you could possibly be doing—!”

the said man chuckled nervously, wrapping his arms around your body to help you preserve any ounce of modesty possible in front of the intruder. “you’re not gonna say anything to the others, right? right, bestie?” there was a cheesy grin on his face, knowing that this secret would be safe with zeal.

“unfortunately, my silence can be bought with twenty dollars, you can pay me later— right now, i need to wash my eyes with bleach to unsee what i just saw and you need to get back to work.”

waiting until he left to leave the two of you to clean up, the white-haired bouncer muttered into your shoulder, “but you didn’t get off yet…”

“oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, pressing a finger to his pouty lips before leaning in to kiss them one last time, “you can make it up to me when you get home.”

#📜. her works #kaelix debonair #kaelix debonair x reader #kaelix debonair smut #by the beat #by the beat x reader #by the beat smut #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en smut

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monkebearness · 2 months ago

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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

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months ago

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I'm watching you answer all those people in your inbox telling their horror stories about people misusing things like personality tests and I'm internally screaming. Are reliability and validity just...foreign concepts to these people?

For the uninitiated, a test should do two things: measure what it is trying to measure (validity) & measure that Thing the same way consistently (reliability). The consistent measuring isn't usually the problem; defining what you're trying to measure - especially if that Thing is an abstract concept, like 'personality' - is the more wonky of the two.

The SAT is a great example. The SAT is not an intelligence test (my brain exploded hearing a mom tell me that once); it is supposed to measure a student's 'readiness for college.' That's why it's called the Scholastic Aptitude/Assessment Test. You can maybe understand why an arbitrary number, maxing at 1600, is um. Not the Best for measuring that particular Thing, especially since being 'ready' for college involves a lot more than just what base level education you start with. IQ tests are a little better, but we have at least nine different types of 'intelligence' that have been delineated and so it highly depends on what 'type' of intelligence one is trying to measure.

Does the MBTI actually measure psychological or personality types? Have we even delineated those terms well enough to say? This is why there are so many criticisms of the MBTI to start with, to say nothing of the numerous other personality tests out there. The MBTI is only the most popular one! Are we using the Five Factor Model or not?

Biological determinism (I think? That's the closest I can come to what this is anyway) is a disease infecting these people's ability to use any form of common sense.

the thing is that everything you said is true and correct but unfortunately to answer your initial question: yes, reliability and validity are foreign concepts to most people. the average person takin the MBTI or cliftonstrengths or whatever have absolutely no concept of what's being measured or how; they're just told that they're going to receive information about themselves and don't really question how it works further than that because they trust that there must be Some reason the test is so widely used.

which, you know, there is a reason, but it's capitalist devilry more than any validity of the tests themselves.

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melancholicstation · 5 months ago

Text

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST: OPEN DOOR! - a jack schlossberg one-shot. 𓊇ྀི

summary: your open door architectural digest interview with your husband jack schlossberg takes an unexpected, and downright sensual turn in your shared kitchen over the most innocuous citrus fruit. note: this is part of the husband!jack schlossberg universe, here are other works with wife!reader and husband!jack: like an american, husband!jack hc's, and comfort husband!jack hc's

warnings: orgasm denial (male), cunnilingus, smut, 18+

words: 1,830

"Hi AD, We're Jack and Y/n, welcome to our house"

Filming for Architectural Digest, as glamorous as it might look from the illustrious glow of a MacBook screen, was not all it cracked up to be. AD had been relentless in their pursuit, contacting both you and jack's agents on more than one occasion proposing the opportunity for you guys as a couple to be featured on their open door celebrity series.

Initially as a couple you had turned the opportunity down, with Jack working tirelessly on the campaign and you being busy with negotiations on your new book deal: it just wouldn't have worked. But after your wedding, which was featured in Vogue, the title "The Bride Wore Vintage John Galliano And The Groom Wore JW Anderson. Inside Their Cape Cod Ceremony" The open door offer came around once again and it came at just the perfect time.

A few weeks back you and Jack had been getting back into the grove of normal life after returning from an illustrious three week honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades: a honeymoon spent in mostly nothing—bar itty-bitty specs of linen as makeshift bikini's, and gucci by tom ford beachwear.

Getting back to AD, you'd woken up before Jack: which was funny because when you first entered the relationship Jack was always the one who got up early, maybe you've been a bit of a bad influence in that department. Nevertheless you spend about five to ten minutes neglecting to wake Jack up: instead opting to trace the sepia hairs littering the top of his neck while quietly leering at his chest hair—looking like an absolute creep, but I mean, he was your husband after all so—that's gotta minus at least 15% of the pervy factor, right?

When he did wake up—and subsequently clocked your staring contest with his chest, he proceeded to lean over like a total and utter drama queen to piously cover himself with the sheets like a 30s model getting a tasteful nude portrait of herself to give to a lover.

You neglected to do any makeup only choosing to smear some P50 lotion on you and Jack's face—you swore he was like a toddler sometimes always wanting to mirror whatever weird shit you put on your face. Once the hair, makeup, and stylist team for AD got there you and Jack were effectively separated for the next few hours, which you did not hear the end of via jack's incessant complaints about the distance between him and you over iMessage and many, many unhinged gif selections sent to your iPhone.

But alas, you two were reunited for the open door interview and it started off generally normal...

First, you two were situated on the front steps of your townhouse and asked when and why you chose the house,

Jack started for you, "We moved here about five years ago, and it was the second house we both had looked at ever in our whole lives, and it so happens that it was the first house we ever bought as a couple"

"Seems clandestine to me", the interviewer cheerily replies to which you both glance at each other playfully while he speaks.

Taking the hint to speak up, you share what drew you to the home adding, "I love the city, but I also love wood and I love light and I love antiques, so I just fell in deep love with the place. For us it struck the perfect balance of being in the city while not feeling like the city was breathing down your back all the time, it can be hard to find a place like that here."

Making your way into the apartment, you and Jack were told to take a short break for about 2 minutes while the videographer got a good layout of the place, and scoped out the best lighting angles to capture it.

Your home occupies the first floor of a Meatpacking District block, and is a few blocks away from the Hudson River—which more than encourages your Husband's borderline addiction to paddle boarding. But, hey you routinely get to see your man walking home in an ultra-tight swimsuit sopping wet, so who were you really to complain about such things?

Despite loving the city, you found yourself devoted to the charm of those old French farmhouse interior's that you'd looked at in your mom's old magazines. And it felt particularly poignant to you guys as a couple—being that your first couple of dates were in the south of France.

You and Jack didn't want the space to come off as just another midcentury modern sterile, ultra-functional flat. So, you opted for sheetrock to be removed from the walls and ordered a large pair of antique door double doors for the living space off 1stdibs.

Just as abruptly as the break had started, it subsequently finished and the cameras began rolling once again. The interview dragged on until you two had finally gotten to the kitchen which was the last room and the last portion of interview.

You started the space off absolutely waxing poetic about the olive-coloured room,

"This is our little kitchen, we painted it horribly together. And then needed to implore a professional painter to fix our many, many painting faux pas." you take a breath to giggle slightly with Jack at your shared delusional confidence that you could paint a whole room successfully.

It was then Jack's time to pitch in, while the camera man did a slow zoom across the decor littering the marbled countertops—causing you and Jack to both notice a certain stone bowl containing a citrus fruit that you know for certain neither of you put there before AD came. Weird you thought, you weren't notified that set-dressing came with the interview.

Leaning on the counter Jack laments, "I love baking, I cook a lot too. I love limes"—to which he dramatically takes a lime into his hands, spinning it between his large fingers, "They're great and I love them so much, and I like to present them like this in my house."

You try not to let the emotion of total bafflement present on camera at Jack straight up lying for the hell of it about the limes being an integral part of your shared household decor—he neglects to mention that they're set dressing and that he's moderately allergic to them.

Closing of the interview you fake lead the interviewer out of the house to close out the interview, only to let them back in seconds later. The interviewer, Mark, who seems to be a genuinely sweet guy thanks you and Jack for your time, informing you that the crew should be packed up in 10 minutes, and the camera guy only needs another 5 minutes to get b-roll footage.

Once all the pleasantries have been fulfilled you lead, or rather playfully drag Jack by his crisp collared Prada button-up into your kitchen.

"Jack, I mean seriously what the hell was that, truly? I know you know you're allergic."

"M'sorry it was just too good not to pass up! I mean what kind of weirdos just but a bowl of lemons out and nothing else? it's barbaric just from a feng-shui standpoint alone!"

"Godd you're such a weirdo. Come kiss me and make it quick so I can forgot that very fact, please" you beckon him to you, placing your chin on his chest with your hands on his chin. Which, by the way is blemish-less—god, you absolutely hated men sometimes.

"Oh come on! you only kiss me cause I'm a weirdo, let's be real." Jack chuckles yet fulfils your request. He kisses you like a man starved which was quite concerning since you had only parted from him today for two hours—absolute max.

The intimacy got more and more heated until well... maybe you currently had your loafer clad feet either side of jack's head while he ate his idea of a mid-afternoon desert.

The very motion of Jack placing the flat side of his tongue against your clit sent you into an absolute. fucking. meltdown. To the point where the moans you made no longer represented someone who was cognisant that they're were about fifteen people working for AD rooms away. You try to compose yourself, which provides a stark contrast to his relentless endeavour on your clit that seem to be ever increasing.

As if to praise your restraint of volume his thumb gently strokes the inside of your thigh—up and down... and up and down. Sensing your impending climax Jack speeds his motions and adds a digit that outright seems to antagonise you—almost trying to tease a mind-numbing orgasm from you. And because you're weak in the face of his machinations, you of course do.

On your come-down you notice a glaring visitor—a quite large bulge in his pants and decide to take pity on it and by looking at the saccharine, loopy look on his face, him as well.

But you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't make him work for it at least a bit.

Continuing your motions on his bulge: feeling it's twitches and reflexes as intimately as you feel him breath while sleeping on your chest at night—

That was until the door to the kitchen was knocked upon,

"Sorry to be a bother but could you guys get that bowl of limes?—the crew is absolutely swamped trying to pack up for the road."

It was at this point in your movements on his bulge that Jack was starting to get loud, a bit too loud for your current situation, so you did the one thing that could shut him up—bar actually suspending the current movements on his mound: but that wouldn't be half as much fun would it?

Quick thinking led you to quite forcefully shoving a medium sized un-cut lime into his mouth to drown out his moans: it sure as shit worked but his puppy dog-like eyes made you feel bad for your prior roughness—you settled on a quick caress of his hair as a pseudo apology.

"Oh of course it's no trouble at all, we'll go grab it now!"

Hearing the footsteps move further and further from the kitchen you glance at Jack: a pitiful, overstimulated sight really. But a sight you deeply enjoy no less.

Picking up the bowl of lemons you grab his hands, afixing each hand to a parallel side of the stone bowl,

"Why don't you go give them back that bowl of limes you love so much and then maybe we can get back to what we were doing?"

Overcome from the intense stimulation Jack nods, willing to do anything that brings him present relief,

"Good boy" you coy, swiping off your own juices from his mouth and chin, then finally taking the un-cut lime out of his mouth.

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel

#12 days of melancholicstation #husband!jack #wife!reader #jack schlossberg fanfiction #jack schlossberg imagines #jack schlossberg imagine #jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg x you #rpf #political rpf #kennedy fanfic #kennedy fanfiction #kennedy rpf #jack schlossberg rpf

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 5 months ago

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Hey Derin, can I ask you a question or two about publishing? (If no, close your eyes for the next bit and click near where you remember the delete button was.)

I'm writing something with the dream of publishing it one day and I'm considering all avenues at this stage. What led you to publishing serially online? What are the pros of your experience doing that?

Asking you because I was looking over your site earlier today and thinking about how comfortable a place the internet feels - less of a big step than traditional publishing, or even putting out a whole story at once for self-publishing.

I've never pursued trad publishing and have no plans to ever do so, it was immediately obvious that it wasn't for me, so I can't give you like, comparisons. I only even got into indie publishing because my readers were demanding ebooks and paperbacks so I just shrugged and got them made. Sometimes I get asked trad vs. indie publishing questions that I do not have the experience to answer.

This question, though, I can answer. I didn't sit down and go "how should I publish these? Online, or through a trad publisher, or what?" I approached web serial writing directly as a career without considering publishing my writing as books at all; that was never on the radar until the readers wanted them. And the reason I started writing a web serial was simple -- it was a hobby that suited my lifestyle.

I'd written serial fiction before; fanfiction, some r/hfy stuff, just whatever I felt like, and I had a serious problem experienced by many casual writers -- I tended not to finish stuff. The stuff that had never made it to the web was even worse; I had so many novels in progress on my hard drive that I'd gotten to the end of the first act of, before moving onto a new idea. I needed something to do with my time (I'd moved back to my hometown to spend time with my dying grandfather and was unemployed) and posting a web serial with a strict schedule and a patreon seemed like the best way to force myself to actually finish my stories. If a handful of people were giving me a couple of buck a month, I wouldn't be able to just drift off to something else; I'd have to finish the story.

And it worked. I got a new job and wrote Curse Words on my off weeks, then that job ended and my Patreon was paying my new mortgage and suddenly this was just kind of my job now. And then enough people were asking for ebooks and paperbacks that I had to figure out how to make those happen. And this is kind of my life now I guess.

In terms of pros I would say:

Low barrier to entry/small steps of progression: You can just start publishing on a website for free whenever you want. You can make your own website for free and publish on that (I did). It takes five minutes or less to learn how to do and you don't need to buy anything. Your time commitment is mostly Writing The Story, which is presumably what you want to be spending your time on anyway. If you do it for 2 months and decide you hate it? You can stop. No harm, no foul.

No boss: You're beholden to your patrons and nobody else. You can write whatever the fuck you want, wherever the fuck you want, however often you want. The only deadline is the schedule that you yourself set, and you can set it to suit your lifestyle.

Payment model: The patreon/ko-fi sponsorship model is vastly superior, in my opinion, to making money via book sales. There's too many factors involved to really say if you make more or less money on Patreon, but what it has is predictability. Patrons come and go, but slowly. I can predict my monthly income from my supporters to within a hundred dollars or so. This is a massive advantage when you have bills to pay. Book sales surge unpredictably, and while you can bank on things like advances if you go the trad publishing route, these are few and far between.

Time: There are minimal delays in web serial publishing. No waiting months or years at a time for your book to chew through the machinery of a publisher, no long delays as your agent works or contracts are negotiated. Indie publishing is faster but still has far more delays than web serial publishing; most notably, you have to write the entire book first, often with little idea of how well it's going to perform. I don't do well with waiting periods or having to coordinate timing with others, so web serial publishing works best for me.

Marketability: Web serials have a far smaller audience than books, but they're also easier to market to that audience. For one thing, they're usually free, and it's a lot easier to convince someone to try a free story instead of buying one. For another, their one-chapter-at-a-time nature feels like less of a commitment and less intimidating to some people, even though they are traditionally much longer than books tend to be. Also, their chapter-by-chapter nature allows speculation and jokes and fanart and stuff to be spread while the story is still going, which is great marketing, especially when readers end up talking about it far longer than they would talk about a book (because they're reading it chapter-by-chapter for far longer).

But the biggest advantage in marketability is what I call 'rolling weight enthusiasm'.

When you're pushing a cart or something, it takes a lot of effort to get started, but once you're cruising at a consistent speed, you can rely on momentum to do half the work for you. You can build more and more speed with the same effort, because a rolling weight is maintaining that momentum. Writing a web serial is a lot like that; the consistent release schedule means that if you can get people invested, it's much easier to keep them invested, because they're waiting a very short period of time (a few days to a week, depending on your release schedule) to get more of the story. If you're releasing books, there might be more than a year between releases; you can keep a dedicated audience interested for that long, but it's much harder to hold onto the casual readers. There are so, so many book series that I've only read half of because at some point a new book was released and I didn't notice. If you write and publish books, you have to do a big part of the marketing all over again to let people know that the next one is out. Web serials don't have this problem. When's the next chapter out? soon enough that the previous chapter is still fresh in your mind. soon enough that you probably don't have time to finish the fanart this one made you think of.

Immediate feedback: Another great thing about web serials is that you can watch the audience reaction in real time. Not only that but, unlike with a book that people read all at once, you get very detailed feedback specific to each chapter. I don't mean people telling you about the story; reader suggestions and 'constructive criticism' is almost universally useless and can generally be thrown out. If you trust somebody's writing and editing skills enough to take feedback from them, you should ask that person directly; random readers are unlikely to be experts and unlikely to have accurate advice.

Instead, watch them discuss it amongst themselves. What did they get right away, and what are they confused about? what did they react most strongly to; is the dominant emotional reaction to the various characters vaguely in line with what you intended? Check the theories; how well are they predicting future events? (If everyone is guessing the Big Twist, then you need to put more effort into selling it so that it's not a let down; the less surprising a twist is, the better the writing has to be to pull it off. But if nobody is guessing the Big Twist, then you have insufficiently foreshadowed it. You're looking for a very high population of readers being accurate about the information they're expected to have gleaned, and a small population being accurate about twists and stuff, and you want that small population to grow as they get closer to the twist.) Checking these reactions can give you a better idea of what you need to emphasise, clarify, or foreshadow in the text.

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auren-zagarra · 6 days ago

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Can I request Lilia for your analysis?? I'm very curious what his would be about, but only if you want to and if you have time. 💕🙏💚

Lilia Vanrouge: A Psychological Analysis

Disclaimer: Although this post is written by a professional psychologist, it is not intended to serve as a formal diagnosis. Rather, it is a character analysis of Lilia Vanrouge, created out of personal interest and passion for world-building. In psychological practice, accurate assessment should never be based solely on external observation.

Lilia Vanrouge serves as the Vice Housewarden of Diasomnia at Night Raven College, where he oversees Malleus Draconia under the housewarden. He is described as youthful in appearance but exceptionally wise and Lilia’s personality is portrayed as easygoing, friendly, and playful: he teases students by hiding upside-down or joking with them. At the same time, his words carry experience: he often gives advice to others and speaks with the tone of someone who has lived much longer than he looks. Lilia smoothly combines the roles of mentor and trickster - he will gently joke around one moment and then switch to a stern, no-nonsense attitude the next, as illustrated when he rebukes Leona Kingscholar during the Interdorm Spelldrive Tournament. Overall, he functions narratively as a wise adviser and paternal figure, providing guidance and support to the Diasomnia students (especially Silver and Sebek) while also lightening the mood with humor.

Personality Analysis

When viewed through established personality frameworks, Lilia displays a distinctive blend of traits. By the Big Five (Five-Factor) model, he would score high on Extraversion (sociable, energetic) and Agreeableness (kind, cooperative). For example, he is almost always cheerful and outgoing with classmates - he enjoys social banter, often greets people warmly, and even calls students “dear” - reflecting sociability and friendly cooperation. His care for others suggests high agreeableness: Lilia genuinely supports and nurtures those around him (e.g. raising Silver and teaching Sebek), and he is generally considerate. He also appears high in Openness to Experience: he has a creative and playful imagination and he encourages new experiences (as when he coaxed Malleus out of Briar Valley to attend Night Raven College). His Conscientiousness seems high as well: Lilia was a decorated royal guard who earned medals and the queen’s trust through disciplined duty and he dutifully cares for those he’s responsible for. Finally, Lilia shows low Neuroticism (emotional stability): he rarely panics or broods publicly; even under stress he remains calm and constructive. For instance, when Silver runs into a crisis as a child, Lilia finds him and nurses him gently back to health rather than displaying anxiety. In sum, Lilia would likely score high on the positive Big Five traits (extraversion, agreeableness, openness, conscientiousness) and low on neuroticism.

Most people who apply the MBTI system to Lilia guess ENTP or ENFP because he is witty, energetic, and values creative interaction. His behavior fits the archetype of the extroverted intuitive type: he loves engaging dialogue, cracks jokes to make points, and often drives events with clever problem-solving. He alternates between lightheartedness and sudden insight, suggesting the “quick-thinking trickster” persona often associated with ENTP. A Jungian perspective adds nuance: Lilia embodies the Trickster and Mentor archetypes. On one hand, he plays the role of trickster/fool – using humor and mischief to connect with others (e.g. pranking Sebek) and to diffuse tense situations. On the other hand, he frequently takes on the wise old man or father figure archetype: he provides guidance, protection, and wisdom to Silver and Sebek. Indeed, Lilia literally becomes a father to Silver and a guardian to Malleus, which echoes the archetypal caregiver. In this way, he balances the childlike joy of the trickster with the profound insight of a mentor, combining Jungian archetypes to enrich his character.

Coping Mechanisms and Behavior

Lilia’s behavior under stress suggests adaptive coping. The psychological literature distinguishes active (problem-focused) coping from avoidant (emotion-focused) coping, and evidence from canon suggests Lilia usually opts for active, problem-solving strategies. For example, when Silver becomes distraught upon learning Lilia is not his biological father, Silver runs away crying. Lilia actively seeks him out and comforts him: he finds Silver in the rain, brings him home, and nurses him back to health, never leaving his side. This is a classic example of confronting the problem: recognizing Silver’s emotional need and directly addressing it through care and support (an emotion-focused but still engaged coping style). Lilia does not punish or ignore Silver’s feelings; instead he shows empathy and resolves the issue.

Moreover, Lilia frequently uses humor as a coping strategy. In Freudian terms, humor is a recognized defense mechanism that helps decrease or combat the negative emotions associated with a situation by making it funny. Lilia’s penchant for jokes and pranks can defuse tension and bring levity. This suggests he may be using humor to cope with stress or to make difficult conversations easier. Importantly, Lilia’s humor is not cruel; even his teasing is gentle, which aligns with adaptive use of humor to strengthen social bonds rather than to belittle.

His behavior in conflict situations also points to disciplined coping. As a former royal guard who “repeatedly threw himself to the flames of war”, Lilia would have learned to confront danger directly. In the school context, when discipline is needed, he does not hesitate to be strict (like Leona’s exemple mentioned before). This indicates that, under challenge, he can switch from playful to authoritative, enforcing rules with sternness. In other words, he adapts his coping style to the situation: playful most of the time, but firm when needed.

There is little evidence that Lilia resorts to maladaptive or avoidant coping (like withdrawing or lashing out). Except for a recent storyline hint (Book 7) that he plans to step away from his duties, Lilia generally stays engaged with those who depend on him. Even when struggling internally (for instance, possibly grappling with his own age and mortality), he tends to channel those feelings into caring for others and preparing them for the future. Overall, Lilia appears to manage stress through a combination of emotion-focused coping (comforting and humor) and problem-focused coping (taking action to help others). He rarely shows signs of panic or despair, suggesting he has effective coping mechanisms and a resilient outlook.

Background Influences

Lilia’s psychology is deeply shaped by his unique background. First and foremost, he is a fae (fairy) of Briar Valley, which explains his extraordinary longevity and this long lifespan means Lilia likely has a very different perspective on time and relationships than mortal students. In Twisted Wonderland lore, some bat fae even face social prejudice (or nocturnal faes in general), which might have given Lilia a sense of resilience in facing bias, which explains a bit more why he was so ruthless during war. Overall, Lilia’s fae origin likely contributes to his calm, patient demeanor; think about us, maturing as we grow older… that’s the same case as Lilia.

Equally important is his military past. Psychologically, wartime service can instill a strong sense of duty and self-control (traits Lilia clearly exhibits) but it can also leave emotional scars (though Lilia does not openly show trauma). His ability to remain composed and focused likely stems from years of facing life-or-death situations. For example, his calm under pressure (helping Silver) and willingness to jump into the fray (military bravery) are consistent with someone who learned to cope with extreme stress. Freudian theory might say his superego was heavily shaped by Queen Maleanor’s values: his loyalty and courage indicate a strong internal moral code. At the same time, having “earned the queen’s trust” suggests he was respected by authority, perhaps reinforcing his respect for rules and hierarchy. In short, Lilia’s veteran status likely contributes to his gravitas and selflessness: he is not a carefree prankster but someone who has paid his dues for the sake of others.

Finally, Lilia’s paternal and mentor roles profoundly influence his interpersonal style. The canon explicitly describes how he adopted Silver as a child and raised him like a son. Silver grows up believing Lilia is his father until the truth emerges, and when Silver learns he is adopted, Lilia comforts him and nursery sickness away, demonstrating loving care. This father-son bond transforms Silver’s concept of family: Silver ultimately “considers himself Lilia’s son regardless of blood”. Thus, Lilia’s role as a real parent figure to Silver has likely made him highly empathetic and protective of children (even those not his by blood). Similarly, Lilia trained Sebek Zigvolt from a young age and served as a guardian to Malleus. In the story, Lilia even entrusts the teenage Malleus to babysit baby Silver, showing that Lilia confides responsibility to those he trusts. Both Sebek and Malleus regard Lilia with great respect: Sebek calls him “Master Lilia” and becomes polite and deferential around him, while Malleus views Lilia as a supportive figure who brought him out of isolation. Altogether, these roles suggest that Lilia’s identity is intertwined with caring for others. He values family (chosen or adopted) and duty to others above his own comfort. Psychologically, being the caregiver to a Silver and to Malleus (a prince/dragon) likely reinforces in Lilia a stable, secure attachment orientation: he invests emotionally in these bonds and finds purpose in sustaining them.

Lilia’s relationship with Malleus is more complex. In one sense, Malleus is the superior (Lilia is vice to Malleus’s dorm warden), but Lilia served as Malleus’s only companion from before hatching. Because Lilia safeguarded Malleus’s egg and interacted with him as an almost paternal surrogate, Malleus grew extremely attached. Canon notes that Malleus is “driven by his fear of losing Lilia, the person closest to him”, underscoring their deep bond. Socially, Lilia treats Malleus with gentle deference and understanding, respecting Malleus’s position while also caring for his emotional needs. The dynamic is one of mutual respect: Lilia acts as a mentor/confidant to Malleus, and Malleus clearly values Lilia’s guidance and friendship.

In terms of attachment style, Lilia himself appears to have a secure style: he forms strong, stable bonds (with Silver and Malleus), does not cling anxiously, and can give space when needed. For instance, he raised Silver to adulthood and permitted Silver’s independence, and he respects Malleus’s authority. Lilia does not seem to fear intimacy or reject closeness; on the contrary, he deeply embraces these relationships (as seen when he plans for Silver’s and Malleus’s futures). Nor does he display an avoidant or dismissive attitude toward others - he actively engages with people. One might even say Lilia exhibits a mature, generative style of relating: he focuses on guiding the next generation (Silver, Sebek, others) and upholding responsibilities.

Possible Diagnosis (Speculative)

Lilia does not display clear symptoms of any psychological disorder under the DSM-5 (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition). He is consistently sober-minded and caring, without extreme mood swings, paranoia, or detachment. However, for completeness, one can speculate on traits or mild issues that might arise.

Firstly, given his war history, some might wonder about post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Soldiers might exhibit PTSD, yet, Lilia shows no overt signs: he does not brood, flashback, or seem constantly on edge. In fact, he handles stress well and retains empathy. Thus if he had any combat trauma, it seems to have been resolved or sublimated into positive action (consistent with the concept of post-traumatic growth rather than pathology).

Another consideration is adjustment to aging or mortality. Lilia ages very slowly; however, the story says he is losing some magical power with time. His decision (in Book 7) to leave the academy and settle could reflect anxiety about his diminishing abilities and mortality. In human terms, this might look like an adjustment disorder due to career/family transition - but the evidence is purely contextual. He makes this choice logically, thinking it through, rather than acting out impulsively or in panic. In other words, it seems more like a rational life decision than a symptom of mental illness.

Lilia’s personality traits also do not align with major disorder criteria. He is not egocentric or manipulative, so no narcissistic or antisocial features are apparent. He is not suggestible or submissive in unhealthy ways (his commands are respected, but he respects others too). He does not withdraw from social contact outside normal duties, so he is not avoidant or schizoid. If anything, one might label him as having an optimistic or even hyperthymic temperament – he is lively, talkative, and tends to exaggerate positivity (e.g. his upbeat encouragement in dire situations). But hyperthymia is not a DSM disorder, just a temperament.

In summary, Lilia Vanrouge appears psychologically well-adjusted. He has a wide social support network (Silver, Malleus, Sebek, etc.), fulfills meaningful roles, and shows no chronic impairment. If any “condition” were to be hypothesized, it might be a normal-range anxiety about the well-being of his children or a mild grief about leaving them – but these would likely fall well below the threshold of a diagnosable disorder in DSM terms.

Summary of Possible Diagnosis

1. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Reasoning: Lilia is a veteran of multiple wars and has "thrown himself into the flames of war" repeatedly, long-term combat exposure may result in emotional detachment, hyper-vigilance or nightmares, his cheery demeanor could be a coping mechanism masking deeper scars.Note: If he had PTSD it would be mil, well-managed and manifested privately.

2. Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder

Reasoning: As an ancient fae who has lived for centuries, he may experience feelings of detachment from time, identity, or reality.

Notes (a copy paste from a previous post I made):

In my point of view, Lilia’s playfulness and interest in games don’t read as trauma-masking behaviors. They feel more like a genuine celebration of life. He’s not avoidant, but adaptive. While it’s valid to explore potential coping mechanisms, it seems far more accurate to view him as someone who chooses joy, even after all he’s endured. Games, in this light, are just one small way he continues to embrace and engage with a world in flux. Think as someone who only saw pain/war and finally is able to enjoy life however he can.

Regarding the reveal of who Silver is related to, I’d argue that Lilia’s reaction is entirely understandable. Imagine raising a child for 17 years, only to discover he’s connected to someone who once tried to invade your homeland and subjugate your people. It’s not about holding a grudge or being unable to let go of the past: it’s about remembering. About honoring history and what it meant.

If I were to draw a comparison (not equating, but simply illustrating) it’s similar to the deep-seated historical tensions and generational trauma many South Americans, Africans, and Asians carry in relation to European and North American colonial histories. The feelings are rooted in real experiences and memory.

Even if Lilia doesn’t show overt signs of PTSD in canon, the traumas he’s lived through still shape his emotional processing. The absence of symptoms doesn’t erase the depth of what he’s endured.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst psychology #lilia psychology #lilia vanrouge psychology #psychology

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