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maribellec · 2 years

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see below for...

Intro | Masterlist | Alpha/Beta Requests | Author Recs

Intro

Hi, my name is Maribelle C. and I am a writer and reader of all things smutty. I made this tumblr for promotional purposes of my writing, favorite books, and other smut* related items!

Don’t be shy hit me up--or read my stuff! You can find everything in this masterpost!

*Please note that most of my work is for adults only.

Masterlist

Archive of Our Own | Asian Fanfics

KPOP

Chanyeol x Mirai { Tiny & Gigantor } FxM

Infatuation (BandMember!Chanyeol, Neighbor!Mirai)

Morning (18+ Only)

Cute Guy Alert

Love in Aquaria: The Bodyguard and the Hermit Witch (18+ Only, BodyGuard!Chanyeol, Witch!Mirai)

KNK

Long Enough (College!Youjin/Brother’sLittleSister!OC)

Heat (18+ Only, Youjin/WerewolfFilipina!OC)

Prenuptial Agreement (Prince!Youjin/PrincessFilipina!OC)

Beauty and the Fool (Highschooler!Heejun/BlackF!OC)

In San Francisco (PersonalAssistant!Youjin/BossF!OC)

Sleep Train (Youjin/F!OC)

BAP

Don't Take Overly Friendly Dogs Home (18+ Only, Yongguk/WerewolfF!OC)

Wonho

I Forgot Something (18+ Only, PersonalAssistant!Hoseok/BossF!OC)

Anime

Crossover

When the Worlds Collide (18+ Only, Kakashi/F!OC, SERIES)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Under (18+ Only, DILF!Toji/F!OC)

Sucker (18+ Only, Nanami/F!OC)

It’s All For You (18+ Only, BusinessMan!Nanami/RoommateF!OC)

Record of Ragnarok

No Gods (18+ Only, Qin Shi Huang/FBunnyHybrid!OC)

Video Games

Dynasty Warriors

TBD

Resident Evil

After Hours (18+ Only, Semi-Canon, Carlos Oliveira/Filipina!OC)

Alpha/Beta Requests

I am currently open for both Alpha reading and Beta reading. Please note the difference--Alpha Reading is where I approach your work as a writer, while Beta Reading is where I approach your work as a reader. If you would like me for either, I am currently open for reviewing!

Author/Mangaka Recs

The following are authors that I personally enjoy immensely. I have also linked my recommendations tag. As a reminder, adults only!

Fanfic authors:

dejwrites

hellavile

sukunaslut / sukunababy

DeenaDolly (inactive but I love her so much)

Original authors:

Mariana Zapata (Slow Burn & Age Gap)

Tessa Bailey (Contemporary and Nasty)

Maya Banks (NASTY, NASTY, NASTY)

Sylvia Day (Nasty)

Mangakas:

Umekoppe

Tomomitsu Yamamoto

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thepixelelf · 2 years

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and the universe said,

02 "fuck you and your interview"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery chapter warnings: language, mentions of a non-fatal car collision. reader is shirtless for most of a scene. if you wear bras and would like to, you can imagine reader in one. relationship(s): ot13 x reader

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

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It’s 300.15 Kelvin outside and you’re wearing a turtleneck and you want to die because the person on the other side of your soulmate phenomenon has never heard of shutting the fuck up.

“They liked you!” Heejun insists.

“Yeah, sure,” you groan, slumped over your kitchen table with your head resting atop your shut laptop. “Until someone started singing and my mark went all the way up to my freaking chin!”

“Okay but they didn’t dislike your mark—”

“No, they thought it was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that once they saw it, they forgot all about my dissertation!” You sit up, beyond frustrated, and tug off your turtleneck, throwing it onto the floor like it personally wronged you. The AC in your apartment just has to be broken, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The mark has returned to its home on the back of your hand.

Heejun doesn’t bother turning away or covering his eyes, having seen you in less.

“All they cared about was my stupid mark,” you whine, crossing your arms in front of you and making a sour face. “‘Oh, wow, I’ve never seen a mark like that before.’ ‘Are those music notes? Is your soulmate a singer?’ ‘Have you met them?’” Even though the words come out mockingly, you slump more and more as you repeat the questions you got berated with in your Zoom interview. “Fuck, I’m never getting a job.”

“Don’t say that. They might call you back.”

You sigh. “Please don’t get my hopes up.”

It’s been about two months since the soulmate phenomenon rocked the world, and that many days minus one since you found out your mark, which is already a proven miracle amongst the general population, is also special amongst other victims of the phenomenon.

“Oh, god.” Eyeing your arms, you groan. “Songbird’s at it again.”

Not only does your mark move whenever your supposed soulmate sings — it extends.

The bars, accompanied by notes and pianissimos and double fortes and symbols you’ve yet to bother googling, spread past the original mark and curl around your wrist, slithering up your arm like a snake through the grass. With your turtleneck strewn and abandoned somewhere on your floor, you and Heejun watch as the music climbs up to your shoulder and slips around your neck, circling twice before moving to your other arm. It’s like you’ve got two full sleeves of tattoos without the teeth-gritting pain that comes with actually getting it done in a parlour.

No, just a whole different kind of pain.

In the ass.

You can’t walk down the street without people gawking at you like you’re an alien — which, honestly, you can’t even blame them for. What the fuck kind of human has tattoos that snake along their arms as if they’re alive? Even Heejun can’t take his eyes off your mark, which has looped back up your left arm and started to wrap around your chest.

“Heejun!” You snap your fingers in his face, jolting him back into pay attention to me land. “I’m lamenting my current and probably eternal unemployment right now; at least pretend you hate this shit as much as I do.”

Shaking his head and frowning, Heejun tries again to console you. “C’mon, there’s no way they’d let the fact that you have a soulmate mark affect whether they hire you or not.”

“Tell that to my other two interviews.”

The staff branches off in some places, and you follow Heejun’s eyes as they trace the music reaching all the way up to your cheek. It does that a lot — the splitting up thing. You’re too sick of the mark overall to care to think about why.

“We should just find them,” Heejun posits.

You blink. “What?”

“I mean, the only way to get them to stop singing is to ask, right?”

Straightening up in your seat, you realize you never really thought about meeting the person on the other side of your mark. You’d been too caught up in the whole, what the fuck is happening why is there a random tattoo on me holy shit why is it moving what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck of it all. And besides, every case you’ve happened to hear from the news has ended up the same way — the soulmates met because their marks led them to each other.

You sort of just expected it to… happen. You never thought about going out to find the person inadvertently ruining your life yourself.

Heejun asks, sincerely, “You want to meet them, don’t you?”

“I… guess.” You shrug.

Do you?

The idea of asking them to stop singing — at least while you’re in a serious interview for a real-life, adulting job — is appealing, that’s for sure. The fact that they’re supposed to be the love of your life is also a factor, though.

You don’t know why, but that’s somehow less appealing to you.

And the weirdness that is the feeling of not wanting to meet the love of your life just yet (because who wouldn’t?) gives you pause.

Your soulmate stops singing, and the staff slinks back until it’s just five empty lines on the back of your hand. It’s a chilling feeling, when the notes disappear, and you shiver with your whole body every time. Another reason you’ve come to dislike your mark. Despite the annoyance the music sets off every time it spreads across your skin, you feel a dreadful sense of… emptiness when it leaves.

To feel that constant start and stop, start and stop—

It’s exhausting.

“Have you tried reading the music?”

“Are you kidding?” You scoff at Heejun. “I played percussion in junior high marching band, dude. I can’t even sightread; I’m hardly a music prodigy.” Scrutinizing your now-plain mark, you say, “Besides, how would that help?”

Heejun rolls his eyes. “You’re seriously dense sometimes. They’re always singing. Either it’s their job, or they’re trying to get your attention.”

“If they wanted to get my attention by annoying me, then they’re doing a bang-up job.”

“If they’re a singer,” Heejun continues, ignoring you. “—it’ll be even easier to find them. They’ll probably be singing all their own songs.”

You shake your head, doubtful. “I don’t think singers spend all day just singing their own stuff.”

“Idols practice all the time—”

“My soulmate is not an idol.”

“Why not?”

The look on Heejun’s face is serious, and you almost squirm under his gaze. Instead, you scrunch up your face and shake your head. “They’re just… not, okay? Idols aren’t my type.”

“Not your type?” Heejun regards you in such disbelief, you want to be annoyed again. “Bub, ‘idol’ isn’t a type of person, it’s a job description.”

“Yeah, and venture capitalists aren’t my type either.”

Heejun groans, but you can tell he won’t argue with that — he dated a business major in university. It didn’t go well.

Not that all business majors are bad, of course. That one just so happened to be a real bitch.

“Fine,” he relents. “Let’s assume they’re just trying to get your attention by singing nonstop— like now.”

Heejun points at your arm, and you look down to find your mark extending again to your infinite dismay. You let out a sigh.

“If they’re not a singer, maybe they’re singing songs with hints in them,” he suggests.

“That’s awfully elaborate, isn’t it?”

Shrugging, Heejun takes hold of your hand from across the table and studies the notes as they dance over your skin. “Your mark is elaborate. You don’t have it easy like all the others.”

“That girl almost hit her soulmate with her car.”

“Yeah, because the universe literally dragged them together,” he reasons. Then, “It’s weird…”

You pull your hand out of his just as the mark recedes, a shiver pulsing through you. “What’s weird?”

“Nothing.” He nods at your phone, which is sitting face up on the table, lit with a notification, “You got an email.”

Not wanting to pry into whatever is going on in Heejun’s head, you grab your phone. You expect some random email from a newsletter you never subscribed to in the first place, but when you read the subject line, your eyes widen.

“Second round of interviews?!”

Heejun smiles wide. “See? I told you they liked you!”

“Oh my god. Dude. It’s tomorrow. Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, stress head. Let’s go over the practice questions again.”

“I love you.”

He snorts. “No shit.”

⭒

Sitting in small coffee shop near where your interview — second round! — will take place in twenty-five minutes, you mutter the answers you practised with Heejun late into last night under your breath. You scroll through your phone, reading up on the company for the third time.

You can almost hear Heejun nagging you in your head.

Relax.

Letting out a long breath, you put your phone away and take a sip of your drink, eyes drifting out the window.

It’s a nice day, unfortunately. If it weren’t for the white turtleneck you’re wearing, you might be happy about the warm weather. You pray to whatever is out there that your antiperspirant is doing its job, because this is the nicest turtleneck you own, and you seriously don’t trust your soulmate not to break into song during your interview. You can only hope they don’t sing a full song today— your shirt will cover partial tunes, but who knows if your soulmate is actually cast in a musical, or something.

Earlier, you set an alarm on your phone so you’ll know when you’ve got to get moving to be exactly seven minutes early, with three minutes of leeway in case you get lost inside the building. With that alarm in mind, you let yourself sink into the art of people-watching, zoned out and half-listening to the music playing in the shop. A song you know comes on, and you hum along.

Ice cold something splashes across your back.

You flinch so hard, your own drink goes flying, and on instinct, you stand up. Whipping around, you turn to see the masked face of a man with an empty plastic cup in his hold, the lid squeezed tight in the opposite hand.

His eyes are as wide as dinner plates, which is wild because you’re the one drenched in iced coffee.

You have nothing to say except, “What the fuck!”

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updates for and the universe said, are not on a schedule. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

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