oomisluvr

[oomisluvr]

(jolts awake) kiyoomi fucking you in a ghostface mask (passes out immediately)

#will elaborate on this later #nonsense

[oomisluvr]

is it guaranteed that your cryptid loser portrayal of kiyoomi will make an appearance in this 5k wip u are talking about bcs if so i am very excited !! half the reason i love ur works is bcs kiyoomi is just very weird™ in them <3

LOL LOSER!KIYOOMI HAS MY HEARTT

in this wip he's pretty reserved! and a little weird! but always very polite and honest!

but i have plans for a pathetic overworked university student kiyoomi too lol

#he works at the library for 7.50/hr but you and your senior thesis are really giving him a run for his money... #please stop requesting materials while hes trying to finish his accounting homework #no y/n you've reached the limit on checking out books #so maybe its enemies to lovers LOL #luvrs.ask

[oomisluvr]

the strangers-to-lovers fic is the prequel to this btw 😭😭

SPOILED ROTTEN

(SEE: RICHBOY!SAKUSA SPOILS YOU A LITTLE TOO MUCH).

“ABSOLUTELY not.” He deadpans, glaring at you like you’ve just kicked his dog and insulted his mother. It’s not a kind tone, “Don’t ask me again.” 

“Kiyoomi, you always do this,” you seethe, ignoring the discomfort of the round-cheeked waitress holding the card reader, “Let. Me. Pay.”

“Fuck. No.” He returns, redirecting his attention to the server and handing her his card, “I’m terribly sorry about her. Debit, please.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” You say as she scurries off, clearly amused at the battlefield the two of you have created in the center of this high-end, dimly lit restaurant. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a moviestar seated at the table behind you. 

He repeats your name back to you in the same tone you used with him, a handsome grin on his face, “Yes, my love?”

“Stop paying for everything!” You demand, “People already think I’m using you for your money, and you aren’t really helping my case.” You’ve seen the tweets. Some are accusatory. Some are happy for you. None of them attest to your character. 

“Well,” he leans over the table, finding your hands and softly stroking the knuckle there, trapping you in his coffee-cold gaze, “Are you using me for my money?”

“No,” you grumble, a little flustered at his forwardness, “But still–”

He releases your hand as the words leave your mouth, a satisfactory smile tugging at his lips, “Then there’s no issue. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to you using me for money. I’m a useful guy.”

“Kiyoomi, that’s not the point–”

“As a matter of fact,” he sifts through his wallet to find what he’s looking for, gently sliding it across the table when he locates whatever it is, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

The young waitress returns with a smooth leather checkbook and a pen. He thanks her as she walks off, delivering his signature to the flimsy receipt with a few flicks of his wrist, “What’s twenty percent of two hundred? I wasn’t good at math.”

You don’t answer that, “You can’t be serious. Kiyoomi, I can’t accept–”

“Is fifty dollars enough to tip? Fuck it, I’ll just leave sixty.”

“This is your credit card.”

“You have great eyesight,” he comments, shrugging like it’s nothing, “And I have good credit. Use it for whatever. I’ll pay it off.”

You nearly laugh at the absurdity of it all, “Since when were you so confident?”

“When you started giving me attention,” He grins easily, “I’d do a lot of things to get you to pay attention to me.”

His transparency catches you off guard, “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he fires back, “You’re too pretty to not be taken seriously.” 

You sigh, face feeling hot. 

“You’re too much,” It takes a great effort to fight back the grin that threatens to break through, to suppress a smile at his ease, “Let’s go home.”

“Why don’t we go find something sweet?” He offers, standing to help you into your coat, “There’s a good ice cream place around here that stays open late.”

Your shy smile gives Kiyoomi enough of an answer. Thanking the staff as the two of you head for the door, he slithers a sneaky arm around your waist.

“I’ll even let you pay,” he flirts, pulling you closer to combat the late-night temperatures, “With your new credit card, of course.”

This was so self-indulgent it's actually ridiculous. Marrying rich is a very real, very serious goal of mine. Hmu for offers serious inquires ONLY <33

[oomisluvr]

i am. 5k words deep in a strangers-to-lovers fic with sakusa. they have not so much as kissed yet. or held hands. or touched each other at all. it’s actually the weirdest most cryptic form of flirting there is. do you know how hard it is for two introverts to fall in love organically. everything is taking place over MONTHS

#scratches the walls pulls out my hair from the follicle

[oomisluvr]

“I didn’t know you had moles down your back.”

Kiyoomi pauses briefly to look at you over his shoulder, post shower body care being interrupted with your statement.

“We’ve been together for how long and you never knew that I had more moles on my body?” He asks, going back to applying his moisturizer. “Do you even look at my body?”

“Only the important parts,” you say, shrugging as you let your eyes wander slightly. There are more than a few freckles and moles on the broad space of his back, tracing like a constellation against the paleness of his skin. They lean along the right side of him, a few scattering on the left for an intricate design-

“Holy shit, stop staring at me,” he snickers, his eyes looking at you in the mirror. “I have moles. You kiss the ones on my forehead every morning. Chill.”

You get up and stalk over to him, arms wrapping lowly around his waist and face nuzzling into the dip of his back, “gonna have to kiss these ones too; they’ve been neglected too long.” You plant a few pecks to the bigger ones along his shoulder, and you smirk at the goosebumps that raise from your affection. “Ticklish?”

“I’ll knock you out with this lotion bottle,” he snarls, continuing his routine with you merely an add on to his body.

“Whatever.” You let your nails rake up the dip of his hips, only letting him go when he hisses and bumps his back against you to get you off. You kiss his warm skin one last time before making your way back to the perch on your shared bed, watching as his muscles and moles contort with every shift of his broad body as he applies his deodorant.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“I’m having an affair,” he says simply.

“With who? Meian?”

“Yes.”

“You could never score Meian.”

“You’re just mad because Meian saw and admired my moles before you.”

You let out a few snorty laughters while he smirks to himself in the mirror, the night settling down into nothing uncommon or surprising, but perfect all the same.

God, you adore him.

“You’re ugly.”

“I love you too.”

#YES!!! YES!!!! #DING DING DING #sakusa is a fuckijg DICK #i love this characterization #he’s so sassy this is everything to me #luvrs.rec #sfw

[oomisluvr]

practice

SYNOPSIS: it's the night before your wedding and — wait, should we just skip to the part where we kiss?

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, SUPER suggestive but nothing actually happens, sakusa is so in love but so is the reader so it all works out, warning: happy endings, atsumu is pissed lmao, 800 words!

“Should we practice?”

“Practice what?”

“Getting married.” 

Egyptian cotton sheets, layers upon layers of mattress toppers, and memory-foam pillows that feel like literal clouds – KIYOOMI has the softest bed of anyone you’ve ever known. It engulfs you like quicksand, with no hope of escaping. You don’t want to.

“Okay,” you yawn, eyes still closed with your feet kicked up on the wall. “As long as I don’t have to get up.”

“You don’t have to.” He copies your yawn, knocking his foot against yours, “Because I sure as hell don’t want to either.”

That pulls a laugh from you, and Kiyoomi stretches his arm for what feels like miles to find your body buried somewhere in the comforter. He thwacks you in the face instead. You don’t even feel it.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I was looking for your hand.” He finds it, then slots his fingers in the spaces between yours, squeezing lightly, “Found it.”

“You are so stupid.”

“Yeah,” He agrees easily, “But you’re the one marrying me. Which makes you stupid by association.”

You push your foot harder against his to establish dominance. Kiyoomi lets you, and his legs drag loudly down the wall before landing softly in the comforter. It makes a funny, airly little sound that makes you giggle. Your giggle makes Kiyoomi chuckle, until you’re laughing at the fact that he’s laughing, which in turn makes him laugh harder. He squeezes your hand, face flushed a strawberry red.

“Should we skip to the part when we kiss?” He whispers, and it sounds so far away, the baritones of his voice escaping you.

“Nah,” Somehow you find the energy to clamor onto him, collapsing your weight onto his lower half with an unattractive grunt. Something jumps to life beneath you, and you angle your hips in a way that makes Kiyoomi start to sweat. “I think we should skip to the consummation-of-marriage part. Right now.”

“Like, right now, right now?” Kiyoomi’s eyes are closed too, eyelids pressed shut like he’s dreaming. The faint smile on his face tells you that he is. 

“Yes, like, right now, right now, right now.” You grin, making quick work of undoing the buttons of his now-wrinkled shirt. 

“Okay.” He smiles harder, eyes still closed. Your fingers are moving so fast, “That tickles.”

It takes all of your focus to slip the ivory buttons through the narrow silk slits. You fumble with the same button repeatedly, your head so disconnected from your body. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first crawled into his lap, nor can you even recall how you ended up in bed with him. 

You can feel your fingers moving, but you aren’t sure how to control the movement. You give up with a huff, “This isn’t working.”

“I can always keep my shirt on,” Kiyoomi hums, lifting his hands to fidget with the buttons of your pants. You’re straddling him in the way that makes his heart hammer in his chest, looking up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, “This, however, must be done away with.”

This would have been romantic if he could actually get your pants off. Unfortunately for both of you, Kiyoomi struggles equally as hard, the buttons of your dress pants can’t seem to stay in his grip. With a sigh, his hands drop. It takes everything in you to not laugh out loud. 

He’s quiet when he asks, “Does the bed feel like it's rocking for you, too?”

“Yeah,” you decide, resting your hands on his covered stomach, where you didn’t quite make it far enough with the buttons, “I’m very drunk.”

“I’m very drunk, too.”

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” You reach to poke his cheek. He catches your hand before you can make it, pulling it to his lips to kiss your palm softly.

“I’m so drunk I don’t even care.”

“This was a terrible dress rehearsal.” You pull away your hand in favor of touching his hair. It was meant to annoy him, as Kiyoomi hates people messing with his curls, but he preens at the attention all the same, “It’s the night before our wedding and we didn’t even fuck.”

With one swift motion, Kiyoomi opens up his arms to pull you into his chest, then rolls over to trap you underneath him. He lands an obnoxious wet kiss on your cheek, smiling softly to himself at the sound of your laughing, “We’ll make up for it tomorrow night.”

You huff and push his face away. He nibbles at your fingers drunkenly. “Whatever.”

“Thanks for marrying me, by the way.”

“Whatever.”

Miya A [11:47]: WHERE ARE YOU Miya A [11:47]: WE CAN'T HAVE A BACHELOR PARTY WITH NO BACHELOR Miya A [00:13]: AND NOW NOBODY CAN FIND Y/N Miya A [00:20]: you fucking freaks i should have known you two would run away together Miya A [00:30]: THIS IS THE LAST TIME I DO ANYTHING NICE FOR YOU Miya A [00:30]: 🖕🖕🖕

hiiii so im not dead! just rly busy w classes/work/internships!

but i have a couple short stories like this that im gonna put out every week for fluff-tober! so uhhhh maybe i'll make a masterlist for that idk

love as always, niko

#sakusa fanfiction #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi #msby sakusa #haikyuu #msby #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa

[oomisluvr]

its such bullshit that the only way to become a better writer is to keep writing

#feeling like sisyphus everytime i open my laptop #nonsense

[oomisluvr]

and the plot is sakusa going to his 8:30 lecture then studying in the library for the rest of the day with zero human interaction

i so want to write a college au sakusa where he's overwhelmingly normal and a little lame

#him waiting in line at the food court #they mess up his order but he doesn't say anything #quietly eats a burger with cheese even though he asked for no cheese bc it messes with his stomach >:( #forgets to tie his shoelaces and he almost trips going up the stairs at the library #a little blush under his mask bc hes embarrassed even though nobody saw him #he goes to bed at 9:30 to wake up early bc he loves having the mornings to himself #i am sobbing uncontrollably i love him

[oomisluvr]

i so want to write a college au sakusa where he's overwhelmingly normal and a little lame

#nonsense

[oomisluvr]

“We should get married.”

Japan is unusually hot this time of year, the humidity weighing heavy in your lungs. The cicadas sing their love for the warmer weather, celebrating a seemingly endless summer. 

You watch the busy intersection from Kiyoomi’s highrise balcony, idly watching the streetlights conduct the flow of traffic.

Green, green, yellow.

Yellow, green, red.

Red, red, red.

You snort, “What makes you say that?”

Kiyoomi takes a long drag from a cigarette, inhaling deeply then releasing the breath in a plume of smoke. It’s a nasty habit he picked up from watching his eldest brother, a habit he rarely lets himself indulge in due to his lifestyle.

He only does it when he’s anxious. Jittery. Nervous. He only does it when he absolutely needs to.

Lots of people think he’s a prude, a killjoy, robotic by nature. Twitter seems to consider him as barely human, but you’ve been around Kiyoomi to know his faults, his shortcomings. You’ve seen enough of him that he doesn’t have to pretend around you.

The first time he slid a cigarette between his lips, you could hardly believe it. 

Laid comfortably on expensive sheets, his hair wild from how you had been tugging on it earlier, swiping a lighter off his nightstand and pinching the cig between two fingers. You remember how he grinned at your disbelief, a handsome smile on his face at how he was able to catch you off guard, the smoke pooling above him in a wicked halo. 

It’s what people do after a good fuck, isn’t it? He had joked. Consider this a compliment.

You remember feeling special. You remember feeling exactly how you feel right now.

“You make me happy, and I think I make you happy, too.” You watch the smoke dissipate into nothing, remnants swept away by a warm summer breeze. The cicadas grow quiet, muffled by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

You shift your attention from the sky overhead to the spiker. You find he’s already looking at you.

“It just makes sense.” He says.

You falter, “We’re not even dating.”

“Does it matter?” His response comes quickly, “We love each other, don’t we?”

You avert your eyes from his, afraid to fall captive to his piercing stare. His hand finds yours, rubbing smooth circles against your knuckles with a calloused thumb. Kiyoomi brings your hand to his lips, laying a soft kiss to the skin there. You draw a shaky breath, inevitably melting into him when he pulls you into his side, pressing you into him completely.

You’re surrounded by his body heat, the spiker towering over you. You hate how soothing it is. You hate how well your body responds to him, your eyes snapping back to him in an instant. 

“I’ll take care of you,” His voice is hypnotic, equal parts captivating and petulant. You hate that you believe him, like always. “We’ll take care of each other. How does that sound?”

Your body betrays you. You feel yourself falling, the walls closing in until–

“Okay.”

Kiyoomi hums, taking another drag of his cigarette, and releasing the smoke into the night air. The carbon burns your eyes, and you cough at the second hand exposure. Kiyoomi’s grip on you tightens and the smoke curls around him, forming that same wicked halo floating against the edges of your memory.

You can hardly remember life before you met Kiyoomi, the memories as tangible as his cigarette smoke. Part of you thinks loving him was inevitable, inescapable. Truly, meant to be. 

You don’t care what the other part of you thinks. Or anyone else, for that matter.

You bring your eyes back to the city below you, watching the streetlights flash and flicker and change.

Green, yellow, yellow.

Yellow, red, red.

Red, red, red.

hehehe i wanted to write something romantic but also left a sick feeling in your tummy. is it toxic obsession or is he just a freak in love? up 2 u baby its whatever you want it to be but lmk if this is too creepy!! so i can tag it as nfsw so it can go with my darker content!! ok bye love as always, niko ♡

#srb for this freaky little story!! #i wanted to highlight how sakusa and the reader bring out the worst in each other #the smoking #the lack of self respect tbh #and the world is screaming at them not to do it!!! #but it doesn’t matter #they think they’re in love

[oomisluvr]

attending a msby "team bonding" event (aka getting hammered on the company's dime) that turns into a dumb game of never-have-i-ever. at first, the questions are stupid.

never have i ever flashed someone.

never have i ever had a one-night stand.

never have i ever had sex in public.

but then you start putting fingers down. and the questions get really weird. really specific. everyone wants to know what the fuck their adorable manager is into.

never have i ever done anal.

never have i ever had a threesome.

never have i ever filmed myself having sex.

a pause.

... never have i ever posted said video, on any platform.

down goes your thumb. then your index. now your middle finger is gone, too. your pause for a minute to consider, before snapping down your ring finger. a few jaws drop.

never have i ever had sex with someone in this room.

you offer a sheepish smile, then promptly put down your pinky.

the room erupts with laughter, sounds of confusion and awe. someone slides you a shot in an effort to get you to talk.

you roll your eyes, but take the shot anyways, with a cute little quip about how you don't kiss and tell, pinching your nose and throwing your head back.

when you open your eyes, it's kiyoomi you see. he's got that dumb, knowing smirk on his stupid prettyboy face, staring at you from across the table.

nobody seems to notice he put all his fingers down, too.

you cringe at the burn, averting your eyes, then politely ask for another shot.

#LOL SORRYYYY #if it wasn't obvious reader is fucking sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa #kiyoomi #msby sakusa #haikyuu #msby #nonsense #nsfw

[oomisluvr]

sakusa washes his hands before he fingers you btw

#i love a boy with manners <33 #nonsense #nsfw

[oomisluvr]

me reading something: i wish i wrote like that

me reading something else with a completely different style: i wish i wrote like that

me reading another thing with a distinctly different style from the first two: i wish i wrote—

#SO REAL #every writing style is the best writing i’ve ever read in my entire life #every style except my own 😍😍😍 #pls shut up PLEASE SHUT UP NIKO #but like also name a creative that likes what they create #my nonsense

[oomisluvr]

love how u write kiyoomi as THEE most pathetic but lovable lewser to ever walk this planet 💗

im always so torn between writing him as the soft-spoken sweetheart i know he is or the smug bastard i know he can be

#and of course an absolute FREAK WEIRDO #but thats a given i dont have a choice there #luvrs.ask #this was such a funny ask!!

[oomisluvr]

to the sweet folks that sent me an ask: i totally received it!! i’m moving into my new apartment and unpacking is literally SO DRAINING 😭😭 i’m just tired LMAO

#i wanna write out a short story for each one so gimme a sec :) #luvrs.ask

[oomisluvr]

#BLUSHING IN THE AIRPORT #MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN #SCREEEEEEEE #him dressing in all black i hate him 😭😭 #sakusa.fanart

[oomisluvr]

No Caller ID

Your job at The Agency was simple. In fact, there was only one rule: Don’t lose track of your field agent. Unfortunately for you, Agent K is a difficult man to find.

warnings: agent!sakusa x handler!reader, international espionage, i was going for a james bond vibe, no graphic violence but there is a teeny bit of violence, hq! cameos that aren’t important to the story but i thought were fun to include, open ending i think, flirting (???), honestly freeform, i wrote this in 1 sitting lol, sfw, 1.8k words!

You’re on a date the first time he calls you. 

The guy you’re out with is nice. Doesn’t interrupt you. Asks about your day. Laughs at all your jokes and pretends not to look down your shirt while the two of you eat. He works in IT, so you know he’s fairly well-off, too. 

It’s too bad this is just to keep up appearances.

Your phone rings with no caller ID and you have to stop your eyes from bulging out of your head. In this line of work, it’s best to keep personal calls separate from ongoing projects. For organization reasons. For safety precautions.

It’s for this reason that you have two cell phones. The first is for private calls, to keep up with the life your current alibi would be living. The second phone is for The Agency.

And you’ve never received a call from your second phone before.

You excuse yourself from the table with a practiced smile, adjusting your clothing as you stand. Your date nods. Understanding, as expected. He didn’t notice that you took your purse with you. He must think you’re coming back.

Exiting the restaurant, you pick up the phone with a nervous hand, unsure of what to expect, “This is Pluto speaking.”

“Pluto? Who the fuck is that?” A man’s voice grunts, panting loudly and very obviously out of breath, “What happened to Rin?” 

You clear your throat, “Rin has since left The Agency. I’m Pluto, his replacement.”

“That bastard. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding–” Sharp pops echo through the speaker. Possibly gunshots. The cursing that follows suggests that those were most likely gunshots. Everything is so loud.

“Agent K, if you’re requesting for backup, I can send over the twins–”

“Absolutely not. No backup, especially not from them.” Based on proximity, you can tell it’s K who fires next. Two quick rounds, followed by two dull thuds. Bullseye? “Everything is under control. Get me to Croatia before midnight tomorrow.”

The call ends.

The second time he calls you is to complain about the first time.

You defend yourself with all the aggression of a caged circus bear.

K quickly learns not to complain about your work.

Two months pass. 

Your job at The Agency was simple.

Fortunately, there was only one rule: Don’t lose track of your field agent.

Unfortunately for you, Agent K is a difficult man to find.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” You scream into the phone. You’ve combed through the security feeds of every private business, traffic cam, and ATM machine, but still no sight of him.

The ringing stops, an easy voice floating through the phone, “Hello?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you in Buenos Aires?” You all but yell, “I’ve been searching for you for hours.” It’s silent on the other end of the receiver. You continue your verbal assault, “Are you even in Argentina? In South America at all?”

K snorts. “Where do you think I am?”

You’re furious, “How did you leave the airport without me knowing? I booked your tickets myself. I made the passport you’re using–”

“Don’t worry about it.” He cuts you off, “Do you really want to know where I am?”

His tone calms you, just long enough to answer, “Yes.”

“A baby shower.”

“A… baby shower?” You repeat dumbly.

“Well, I’m not physically at the baby shower, that would be a breach of contract. I’m sitting in an unmarked car, about 100 feet from the festivities. Watching my little sister open her gifts. She doesn’t even know I’m here.” He sighs, and it’s so different from anything else you’ve heard from him. “Nobody does.”

People who do what K does rarely ever have families. Alive, that is. You wonder how old he was when he left home, if his parents know what he does for a living. If they even know he’s alive. 

Instead you ask, “Will you be having a niece or a nephew?”

He chuckles to himself, but it’s humorless. Empty. “That’s what I’m waiting to find out. I think the reveal is after they cut the cake. My sister is greedy enough to make everyone wait.”

You’re silent for a moment, at a genuine loss of words. The silence feels comfortable, and whether you’d like to admit it or not, you’ve gotten attached to Agent K. Fond, even. Just knowing he’s on the other end of the line, alive and breathing and not being shot at, gives you an enormous sense of relief.

You stare into the monitors ahead of you, at the sheer number of tabs you’ve opened, the energy you expended to make sure he’s safe.

“How did you get into this line of work?”

“Me?”

“Yes,” you can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice, “You.” 

Nobody has ever asked you that. Nobody is allowed to ask that, you think. “I had an internship the summer after I graduated. My boss at the time has some sort of connection to The Agency. She said I should apply and that she’d put in a good word. My interview was the next day, and I was officially hired by the end of the month.”

It’s silent for a beat, “You do realize you failed the test, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t supposed to divulge any personal information to me or any other agents,” He quips, “Especially not any information regarding The Agency.”

“Well,” You start, “You aren’t supposed to run away from missions and lie to your handler about where you are!”

K laughs. An actual laugh. “Touche. Though I’m not running away from anything. This is simply… a brief layover.”

“Whatever. I’ve already booked you a flight from Hyogo to Buenos Aires.”

“You’re sharp, Pluto.” There’s pleasant surprise in his voice, and pride flares in your veins at having caught him off guard, “How’d you know I was in Japan?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You repeat his own words back to him, “Your flight leaves at 8:30PM, Japan Standard Time. Think you can make it by then?”

“Yes, ma’am.” K huffs, “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” you say, “And I’ll be sure not to include this ‘brief layover’ in my reports.”

“Thank you.” He says, and you can tell it’s genuine. For a moment, you feel appreciated, before he adds, “And from now on, please refrain from using fishing boats as a means of escape.”

“Give me enough of a heads up and I won’t have to.” You fight back a smile, recalling your first encounter, and the angry call you got 16 hours later, “But if you ever lie to me again about where you are, I’m leaving you stranded.” It’s a lie. In reality, if it came between you and him, you’re the expendable one. 

“Deal.” He confirms, “Oh, and, Pluto?”

“Yes?”

“It seems like I’ll be having a niece.”

These days, your phone never stops ringing. Your second phone, that is.

“Where are you?” He preens through the phone. It’s the last question you’re expecting. You’re at a cocktail dinner for your job. The fake one. The one that The Agency placed you at to keep up appearances.

“Company dinner. Is there anything I can help you with?”

You’ve leaned over the balcony, nursing something with too much sugar and not enough alcohol. The venue is beautiful, probably some millionaire’s summer home, resting on a lavish hill and overlooking the ocean. The party blazes loudly behind you, a stark contrast to the stillness of the sea.

“Yeah. There is, actually.” He decides, “What are you wearing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes.” His voice is so smooth, sentences dancing off his tongue like a lullaby. “You’re wearing a purple dress, right? Say, is that silk?”

Your breath catches in your throat, your body suddenly alert at the implication of being watched, “Yes,” you find your voice again, making subtle movements to analyze your surroundings, “It was my mother’s.”

He hums, and part of you can hear a smirk in his voice, “Thought so.”

It bothers you that you’ve no clue what he looks like. How many times have you run into him without knowing? K was one of the most talented of this generation, able to adopt and shed identities as if they were clothing, able to blend into any crowd at any time, more dangerous than any traditional weapon. How many times has he been a friendly face on the street, a shadowy figure at the bar, and you simply had no idea?

“On your left.”

A man approaches you, dressed handsomely in a well-tailored suit. Shaggy orange hair falls into his bright eyes. His footsteps are quiet, practiced, holding a corsage in his right hand. 

Without sparing a moment, he transfers the flowers from his grasp to yours before spinning on his heels and disappearing into the crowd once again. Your words die in the back of your throat.

The corsage is simple, but pretty. Purple petals to compliment your dress. Tied around it is a small gift box. You return your attention to the phone, “What’s this?”

“A thank you.” He says, “And an apology. And something else. Open it.”

You do. It’s a cartier bracelet, thousands of dollars worth of gold. You flip it over to find your name engraved into the metal. Your real name. You gasp.

“Congratulations on the promotion.” He says your name so differently than anyone has ever said it. You trace the letters in your palm, just faint enough that only you would notice. Just faint enough that you could keep it, and not have it jeopardize your position.

“Just doing my job.” You conveniently left out that the company celebration was for you. Well, you and the five other people who received promotions this quarter. Of course K would find out.

”Don’t get smart with me,” He groans, “But consider it an apology as well. I would have loved to be there with you tonight. You’re brilliant, and I’m lucky to have you on my team.”

You idly watch the yachts float by, some illuminated with neon lights, and some brightened with floodlights. If you squint, you can make out the fishing boat just barely kissing the shore. And the shadowy figure perched upon it.

“Don’t feel bad,” You hum, “Something tells me you aren’t too far off.”

“Goodnight, Pluto.”

“Goodnight, K.”

The call ends. 

You clip the corsage around your wrist and return to the party.

i though this would be a fun little story! ok bye love as always, niko ♡

#srb!! #this little story makes me happy!!