#If you met a feral cat that was mine i raised it

[moonilit]

seeing that trend where people run with their cats too see if they would survive the quiet place and i just know no way im surviving with these little demons i have 😭

If they don’t like to be held then they just don’t shut up, it will go something like this

Him: why are you running mother? You have a demon at your trail mother *as his eyes glowed to the threat running behind us* mother he is gaining on you mother you wish you didn’t skip leg day

[xelasrecords]

Violent Need

Han Jumin x MC

NSFW

Attempting to kill herself to hurt Jumin has consequences. MC is about to find out what.

A/N: It occurred to me that I mostly write slow scenes. Time to remedy that!

CW: referenced suicide, hate sex (oral), getting off to violent imagery

Words: 1.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Why is it always you?"

Jumin didn't budge from her balcony. His breath was still laboured, his black tie dangling loose from his collar. The wind roared against the bolted windows. She could barely make out the street far below, but she knew it was stranded. Nobody with good sense would take a stroll at this hour.

She pulled her night robe tighter around her. It was a comforting embrace that she would never get from him. "I'm sick of seeing you here."

His jaw hardened. "I am only here when my presence is needed. Had you not triggered the alarm, I wouldn't have come," he said. "Understand that I put your feelings into consideration. I'm not the heartless monster you make me out to be."

She cackled. "A monster with a heart is still a monster." The sound that escaped her throat was raw, dry sand scraping against inflamed flesh. "You don't put a fucking tracker on someone you love. You trust them."

Jumin snapped his head at her. His knuckles that gripped the railing were turning white. "Was I wrong in guessing that you were trying to kill yourself?"

She met his gaze steadily, those grey eyes so devoid of warmth that if she cleaved him open, it might as well reveal a hollow husk of a body. "No."

Jumin threw his hands up and walked away from the window. "Should I have sat around while your vitals deteriorated then? Your oxygen saturation was plummeting." He raised her chin and slid a trembling hand down the necklace of bruise around her neck. His touch was delicate. She was his fragile doll that he was determined to put together whenever she fell apart. There were too many cracks to be deemed lovable, but Jumin loved her still. "Under no circumstances can you die. You are needed in this association. I need you."

A pleasant sensation stung down her spine. She would not burn alone in the hell he put her in. He had to bleed as she bled. She threaded her fingers through his ink-black hair and jerked him close. "Whatever do you need me for?"

"You are the only one who understands me."

She nodded. "Why do you think I didn't strangle myself all the way through?" Her lips smoothed into a cold smile. "Ending my life permanently was never my goal. Chipping away yours is."

Jumin drew in a sharp breath. "I will still love you even with nothing left of me. You don't know what I've done to keep you safe. You have no clue of the things I'm capable of doing for you." He leaned his forehead against her as his voice dropped low. "You will stay alive and whole. That's an order."

She twisted her hold on his hair until he winced. "Any other rule I have to abide by?"

"You're moving in with me."

A weight dropped on her stomach.

She stumbled backwards into her bedroom. The temperature abruptly fell as the adrenaline of hurting him left her. She would be forcibly removed from the only place she felt safe in. "This is the only place that's mine. You are not taking this away from me."

Jumin stalked towards her with great caution as if she were a feral cat, and she felt like one. She hated that he always tried to appease her anger. It was her right to be furious. He had no right to take it away from her.

He took, and took, and took. All the material things he gave her were the pitiful apologies she had no use of.

"You are a danger to yourself," said Jumin. "You have proven that you are not to be trusted alone."

Her eyes darted around her room wildly, taking in the pieces of furniture that she had arranged to her comfort. The sharp-edged hand mirror that Jumin would wrench away from her the second he noticed the dried blood on it. She had forgotten to clean it before triggering the alarm. The blooming dahlia on her dressing table, the only living thing she cared to take care of.

How was it possible that she had no power over Jumin when he was blinded by his love for her? She wanted to be the poison to his existence. The person harbouring more feelings should be dependent on the receiver. Love made you weak, but Jumin used it to fortify his claim on her instead.

This was her present for nurturing the monster in him.

"What will I have left once you take away my home?"

"Calm down," said Jumin. It did nothing but to further incense her. "A relocation is not a complete removal. You will have freedom—within reason—in my penthouse. There's a new room already set up for you. We can decorate it to mimic this current interior. Everything will be tailored to your comfort."

"'We'?" she spat. "I will take no part in dolling up my prison."

"I'm not abandoning you. You will still have your home, with me." Jumin sighed. He stood a few steps away from her, oceans away from the person she once cared about. "I wish you would want me like I want you."

"How do you want me exactly?" Her voice shook with contempt. "Chained to your bed so I can't go anywhere without your permission? Kept on a leash so I have to trail after you like a dog? Sedated so I can be pliant and quiet?"

Jumin studied her, searching for a truth that did not exist. "Would you like that? Would you reciprocate my love if I indulged in your fantasies?"

Her skin crawled at his inference. There was no breakthrough. Every word she threw at him would simply be twisted to his convenience. "What you have for me is not love."

The cords in his neck went taut. "That is the one thing you fail to understand about me."

"You wouldn't have assumed my fantasies if you loved me. You would have asked. My thoughts would matter to you."

"I see." Jumin rubbed his lips with his forefinger. "My apologies. Tell me, what do you like to fantasise about?"

She snatched at his wrist and sank her fingers between his wrist bones, digging into the strains of muscle. She straightened her posture; she was a tall woman, but Jumin had the ability to make her feel smaller, lesser, as if everything that made her could be easily crushed. She supposed there was some truth in it.

"You, dying." She guided his hand to slip into her panties and rubbed at her clit while letting her robe fall around her shoulders. "I picture you dying."

A flash of hurt passed across Jumin's face, but he recovered in the next moment. He kissed her neck and curled two of his fingers into her entrance. She groaned, but they slipped in with some effort.

"I want to see blood around your lifeless body." She gasped when he hit the right spot and her breasts rose and fell at a quickening pace. Jumin's expression when he stared up at her was darkened with lust that he often tried to keep at bay. "Stabbed to utter deformity. Ripped apart until you couldn't haunt me anymore. I want to stain my hands with your blood. I would forever be marred by you."

Jumin pushed her against the wall, his hands never leaving her. "Do you really hate me that much?"

Her gaze flicked to him, desperate for another taste of his pain. But he wore his hunger for her as a shield. There were no chinks in his armour. "It would be proof that I had done something. That I could reduce you into nothing and emerge a victor. I would fucking wear you like a badge of honour."

Jumin slid to his knees and pulled down her panties. The sight of him lowering himself for her should have been glorious, but it filled her with derision. It was just a ruse. They both knew who really held the power in this relationship. "I am not terrified of you."

She sneered down at him. "Killing you would be the best thing I had ever achieved."

Jumin let out a long-suffering sigh and balled up her panties before stuffing them into her mouth. There was a warning in his eyes that made her heart falter, a reminder that this was the person who had destroyed her beyond redemption. "As much as I love your nightmare tongue, I need you to be quiet."

He perched her calf over his shoulder before she could knee him on his face. She had half a mind to do it. But his mouth latched onto her core, tongue swirling in her and sucking her and her thoughts shattered.

Jumin laved at her until her hips bucked. She pushed his head against her and he tightened his bruising hold on her thighs. It was almost comical, how he was allowed to hurt her, but not herself. Her body wasn't even hers, and it was made apparent by the pleasure that Jumin continued to rip out of her.

When Jumin added three fingers and stretched them out, her back arched off the wall. It burned at first, but it quickly dissolved into a pain that she longed for. She was getting close, and she bit on the cloth in her mouth to avoid screaming out Jumin's name. He would not get the satisfaction of winning over her body. This ecstasy was for her and her only.

Her keening grew more desperate and her movements more frantic, but Jumin suddenly stopped. He held her hips against the wall and slowly stood up.

She spitted out the soaked panties. "What—"

"We can finish this at my penthouse," Jumin stated calmly, slick glistening his chin. He glanced at her panties on the floor with disinterest. "There is no need to put on a new underwear when we leave. You won't meet anyone at this hour, and Driver Kim knows better than to comment on your indecent state." He combed through her rustled hair and trailed his fingers down the valley between her exposed breasts.

Her vision turned white. She yanked on his tie until blood rushed to his beautiful, detestable face, until he started choking and coughing. "You're not a good person. You think you're doing the right thing to save me, but you're just as demented for using my body against me. You made me like this. You planted this hatred in me. It's your fault I can't love you."

Jumin pried her fist open with great effort. After taking several moments to catch his breath, he secured her night robe back in place with robotic efficiency. "I'm doing this for your own good. You will understand in the future."

"You should be afraid of me," she gritted out, venom lacing every drop of her word. "I will ruin you. I will."

Jumin's lips curled into a bitter smile and he kissed her, forcing her to taste herself. "You already have."

-

Footnotes:

🤷🏻‍♀️

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[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

uh...18 for the whumper dialogue?

I love this AU

TW: Stalking, home invasion, kidnapping, abuse, suicidal thoughts, fear of animal harm (the cat is fine, outside of also getting kidnapped and forcibly given a stupid new name), infantilisation, drugging, self hatred.

——

Tommy knew there was something wrong when Tubbo- the cat, not the friend he so missed- stopped cuddling up with him in bed.

Tubbo was a feisty little stray, more than half feral, but that was how they got along. She might hiss at everyone she met but him, but to Tommy she was affectionate, and extremely so. In the three years or so since he’d found her as a kitten in the engine of the van, her ginger fur and scarred face reminding Tommy of his old friend.

There were things missing before that, but he'd assumed some prick had stolen his stock while he wasn’t looking. Sometimes, even with the medicine he picked up for his shit, he forgot way too much. Sometimes, he couldn’t remember whole days, and that would have been scary if he was still There but he wasn’t anymore. He was safe.

He thought he was safe.

But when Tubbo woke him up hissing, out of his arms, he knew something was wrong. Cursing quietly to himself, he suddenly regretted burying his weapons a decade ago. He’d thought when he left That Place he wouldn’t need to fight anymore. He just wanted to explore as many servers as he could, sell the stuff he made, and live a peaceful life with a little bit of theft being the most excitement he got into. He took a visit to Utah every Christmas, and that was the biggest day of the year, every year. He didn’t want the swords anymore.

Prime, he wished he had one now.

He tried to pull himself from bed, but something sharp made an impact with his arm. Before he could figure out what the fuck was going on, he was pinned to the ground, the moonlight through the windows barely illuminating his attacker's face.

Or, well, not his face. There, for the first time in ten years, Tommy saw a familiar mask.

No no no no no no no.

Tommy had left that behind. He’d ran like a fucking coward but he had to. He couldn’t spend a single day more with the smiling shadow hanging over him. He’d rather die- truly, permanently die.

“You're rusty,” Dream said, a mix of fondness and amusement in his voice, and Tommy screamed.

Tubbo took her cue, launching onto Dream, and Tommy's heart stopped beating. He couldn’t kill her Prime she was all he had with him.

Thankfully, Dream just pulled out a sleeping potion, cracking it out onto the ground and letting the fumes knock her out. Tommy would have breathed a sigh of relief if he could breathe.

“Aww, your cat's just like you too. I love them. I’m calling them Tommy Two.”

“I- her name. It’s Tubbo.” Tommy hated how he still sounded like a child. He thought he’d matured so much, he felt like an adult now, but around Dream that just faded. “She’s not-“

“That’s an awful name. I prefer mine.” Dream laughed, before his voice dropped all its levity. “I’ve been watching you for a while, y’know. It took me ages to find you.”

“Yeah, that’s because I- I never wanted to see you ever again-“

“Honestly, I’m not even surprised without my guidance you’ve become like- this!” Dream said, ignoring Tommy completely. “You're pretending you’re all grown up, you’re smoking, you’re doing drugs again. You got piercings and tattoos and cut off your hair like a rebellious teenager, but you think you’re all grown up because you refuse to admit that’s what you’ll always be.”

“I'm nearly thirty, prick. I grew up.” Tommy glared, anger possessing him for just long enough to be able to stand up for himself. “Maybe you should try that too.”

Tommy hated how familiar the slap across his face felt. It had been ten fucking years, but he remembered Dream's raised hand easier than he remembered how to sew some days. “Oh Prime, shut up. You’ve gone from annoying to insufferable. You’ve just spent the last decade becoming your worst self, while I’ve actually fucking grown, Tommy. I’ve fixed everything back home, while you’ve let yourself become this- this useless, boring excuse of a person! You were special when I took care of you, and what did you do? You threw that away to be nothing.”

“You- you’ve fixed everything?”

Dream paused a second. “Prime, I had a whole reveal and everything planned. Just- forget I said that okay?” He almost sounded flustered. Like a fucking kid.

It was weird, feeling like the adult around Dream.

Tommy had expected another splash potion, but he didn’t expect for a bottled version to be forced in front of him, Dream's other hand pinching his nose until he had to open his mouth and have the concoction poured inside. It made sense the second he tasted how utterly bitter it was- this was strong enough that Dream would have knocked himself out if he’d tried to use a splash potion in as cramped a space as Tommy's van.

“Now, sleep. Sleep and forget.” Dream's voice was soft, and he ran a hand through Tommy's hair as he quickly drifted into unconsciousness, which Tommy assumed was meant to be comforting but really wasn’t.

The last thought Tommy had before he fell into a deep sleep was that he hoped Dream was making all that shit up. Because, Prime, if he’d left his friends to get hurt by Dream… then maybe he really did deserve this.

[zombie-rott]

Won't You Show Me Your Weakness?/Part I

Pairing: Cumulus / Swiss

Synopsis:

"Swiss felt realisation dawn on him. It had to be love, there was no other explanation. His body had chosen a mate, and that’s why this felt so different to him than the usual cat-and-mouse games that he played with lovers."

Or

Swiss is desperately in love with Cumulus but he's not sure she feels the same.

Notes:

This has been in the works for weeks thanks to the help of a fellow Ghost fan and good friend of mine holding my hand along the way. I'm not a cliche/troupe person, so when the idea of this 'little' fic bloomed, I was hesitant. But I've had so much fun creating this little world that has now grown into a to-be collection!

So, yes, it's cliche! It's your run-of-the-mill 'I love her but I don't know if she loves me boohoo' story, with a happy ending and little to no angst! It's so outside my usual long-fic that I am almost 100% sure it'll fail.

But, man, this felt fun to write.

A03

~ ~ ~ ~

From the moment that the air ghoul was spat out of the pit and onto the cold, hard floor of The Ministry's ritual room, Swiss knew there was something different about her. He felt his heart jump in his chest at the sight of her; Fierce and feral, her eyes dark and wild with fear.

But oh so beautiful.

She hissed at them, swiping as the other ghouls attempted to approach her still-smoking body. Her hair was dripping, and her skin glistened with a mixture of sweat and tar from the pit.

Despite his desperate and sudden desire to hold her, Swiss couldn't will himself to move. His legs simply wouldn't have it, too busy in their effort to keep him standing. But Mountain bravely stepped forward, and true to his earthly element, managed to tame her. He calmed her with his soothing tone and gentle presence. He was shortly followed by the other air elemental, and then by Copia himself.

But when Swiss moved in to extend his hand in welcome, she shot daggers into his soul, her eyes piercing right through him. He flinched before moving back five paces, increasing the distance between them both. He had no idea why she reacted like that to him of all ghouls. None of the other members of his pack had reacted like this to him, and he, in fact, regarded himself as a very welcoming character. 

But clearly not according to the blonde-haired she-devil. 

Yet, despite her apparent distaste for him, Swiss couldn’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach when he thought about her. Was it her pheromones, maybe? Those beautiful, wide hips? Or was this his body's way of telling him he’d finally found his mate after all this time?

During her first few months on the surface, Cumulus steered clear from Swiss for the most part. They only spent time together in groups or during rehearsal and rarely spoke directly to each other. Quite frankly, Cumulus came to find the multi-ghoul to be a bit of an idiot. He was outwardly loud and rather crude. And, worst of all, he came across as the cockiest ghoul she’d ever met. It was almost as if he’d been raised by demons, not other ghoul-kin. 

Still, she was reluctant to admit that he got her heart beating a little faster when they met each other’s eyes. Sometimes she lingered and so did he, neither wanting to look away. Then the tickles of butterflies had started, first in her stomach and then in her chest. 

It wasn’t long before she found herself blushing when he smiled at her with that wide, pointed grin of his. She was careful not to show it though, never returning his grin nor lingering too long with her gaze lest he get any ideas. 

Ideas that, if she were honest, she was hiding herself.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

If Swiss was anything it was well ‘ travelled ’. Both in the pit and on the surface, he’d had an assortment of lovers within his own species and out. What ghoul didn’t enjoy sex after all? It was as much a demonic need as it was a human one, and Swiss didn’t see the point in hiding it. There were no back doors in Swiss, as they say. Or, rather, there were at times. 

But what he felt for Cumulus was more than just the basic desire for sex. Of course, lust played a part, how could it not when she had hips like that and a beautiful curve at her waist just begging to be held? But Swiss also wanted to hold her against his chest, he wanted to protect her, shrouding her with his wings as they whispered sweet nothings to each other in the still of the night. He wanted to perch on The Ministry’s roof with her, pointing out the constellations and basking in the stars. And, by the unholy lord , he desperately wanted to hold her hand in his. He craved the touch of her skin, any part of her skin, on his. That was it . Plain and simple and innocent.

“Hey, it’s the Beltane celebrations soon! Are you joining us?” Dew asked excitedly one evening after rehearsal. 

Beltane was one of their favourite celebrations full of alcohol indulgence and the promise of an orgy or two. But Swiss was lost in memories of her and her beautiful fingers tickling the ivory notes of her keyboard. 

“Swissroll?!” Dew clicked his fingers in front of the multi-ghoul, pulling back his attention. 

“Wh- Oh, sorry Dewy. I was miles away.” 

Dew narrowed his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. The little fire ghoul had been friends with Swiss back when his element had been water. They’d been there for each other during their respective ‘ surface sickness ’, stood by each other against Sister Imperator and even emotionally bonded over their trauma from the pit. He knew when Swiss was hiding something. 

“Miles? More like lightyears. Where is your head at lately?” 

“What do you mean? Can’t I just be ‘ spacy ’ without there being something wrong?” 

“Don’t pull that,” Dew pointed a clawed finger, “Don’t act like we don’t know literally everything about each other to the point that it’s unhinged.” 

Swiss sighed. 

“It’s nothing, honestly. I’m just thinking about - someone.” 

Dew’s ears and eyebrows rose high. Swiss, thinking about someone usually meant romantically. Or, perhaps lustfully was the better word? 

“Who?” The smaller ghoul teased. 

“You don’t need to know.” He retorted as he jumped up from his seat by the drumkit, “I should go. I’m meeting Phantom to go over some chords.” 

“Hey - you can’t hide from me, Swissroll!” Dew called to him. 

Swiss raised his hand in acknowledgement before bolting out the door. He didn’t necessarily want his best friend poking his nose into this business. Yes, they shared everything, but this felt like more of a secret, and he couldn’t understand why. He wasn’t embarrassed, but scared. Scared she might not like him, scared to annoy her further, scared she’ll fall in love with someone else, scared she’ll somehow vanish before his eyes. He didn’t get it, but he was scared to be without her, even if she were just in his presence. 

So he kept quiet and continued to sneak glances from afar. He thought about her and her beautiful, grey skin with just the faintest tinge of blue throughout. He thought about running his fingers through her beautiful, dark curls, holding her by her waist, kissing her soft lips, twirling his tail around hers, spade to spade.

~ ~ ~ ~

The first time Cumulus and Swiss are alone together was, oddly, in Papa Copia's Papal office. The clergyman had invited Swiss for coffee so that they could further discuss their upcoming tour. He tried to meet with each of his ghouls prior to a string of rituals to discuss any recommendations or improvements, or even ideas they had for onstage presence. For Swiss, it was the same old routine. Nothing else. He was seasoned on stage, so this coffee really had been more of a friendly formality catch-up rather than a business meeting.

Copia and the multi-ghoul became so lost in their conversation that neither had expected it when there came a sudden knock at the door. 

“Oh dear, we’ve run over our time.” Copia laughed, “Ah, entrare prego .”

Cumulus fumbled her way into the room with several books balanced in her arms. Swiss felt his breath catch in his throat and his cheeks flush. Papa jumped up from his seat to help her and Swiss cursed himself for not being the first to think of that. 

“ Mio Caro , let me help you!” Copia smiled at her as he moved to take some of her paperwork. His paperwork, rather.  

“Oh - ah- I didn’t realise you were still with company. I can come back Papa.” She said, glancing towards the multi-ghoul.

Swiss gave a soft smile. She narrowed her eyes. 

“I can go -” 

“ Rimanere , sedersi! Both of you. Help yourselves to more coffee.” Papa gestured to an empty spot next to Swiss. But she remained standing, “Oh come now. Ghoulette, he doesn’t bite. Eh?” 

Cumulus, reluctantly, settled herself on the couch next to Swiss, maintaining a good distance. Her spaded tail wrapped tightly around her waist and her arms came to fold tightly in front of her bosom. 

“ Uno memento , I must leave these books back to my quarters. Chat among yourselves.” Copia called as he disappeared into his personal rooms. 

The two ghouls were left sitting in possibly one of the most awkward silences man had ever witnessed. Swiss swore he could hear his own heartbeat, and he was almost certain that Cumulus could sense his nervousness. He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eyes, only to realise she had her head dipped downward to stare at her claws. 

“A-are you here to speak to Papa about the tour?” Swiss finally asked, his voice trembling. This was the first time he’d ever been alone with Cumulus, nor had he ever spoken to her on a one-to-one basis. And unholy lord , he didn’t want to fuck it up. 

“I’m Papa’s appointed assistant and he needed paperwork from Sister Imperator. I was simply delivering it.” She answered without looking up for her hands. 

“ Oh ! He gave you the assistant job!? Congratulations. You’re the perfect ghoul for the job.” Swiss’ smile deepened. 

Cumulus’ snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes boring holes into his. 

“You don’t even know me?” She said, venom dripping from her voice. 

Swiss’ ears flattened back against his skull as a blush rose up his neck and into his cheeks. He had watched her when she worked in the library. She was meticulous with her books and files, making sure they were tidy and organised to be as easy as possible for those coming behind her. And Swiss was in no doubt that her ‘ no bullshit ’ attitude extended to her work for Papa. Especially when it came to dealing with the often disorganised and anxious clergyman. 

“I- well -I know how organised you are. And, Aurora is always telling me how great your chore system is working in the quarters. You’re good at getting things in order, is what I mean.” 

Cumulus raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. Swiss of course was right. She was good at all those things, and she bloody knew it . But she hadn’t realised that the other ghoul had even noticed, nor cared to even pay attention. He had always come off as so arrogant and air-headed to her that she hadn’t even thought he saw anything beyond his own silly little bubble. But then she thought of their stolen glances and the way he smiled at her. There was no denying that the other ghoul annoyed her, yet her heart always beat faster when she saw him. And when he sang? Oh, when he sang.

“I-I suppose I am.” She answered, a blush rushing up, into her cheeks and, finally, blooming at the tip of her ears. 

“You are!” Swiss grinned, “You’re perfect.” 

“I-I’m p-perfect?” Cumulus questioned.

“For the job! You’re perfect for the job !” 

Finally, Papa Copia hurried back into his office, closing his quarter’s door loudly behind him. The solid bang, thankfully , broke through the awkwardness.

“Ah my ghouls, I am so sorry. Where were we? Ah, si ! We are having coffee!”

“Papa, I really need to go.” Swiss stood to his full height and began moving towards the door. He wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He’d had enough of embarrassing himself for the time being. 

“But -” 

“No, really Papa. I’ve taken too much of your time and I’ve duties in the kitchens. You know how Sister gets when we skip out of our chores.” 

Copia let out a sigh before waving him onward. 

“Ah si, si . I understand. Don’t want to anger her, eh?” 

With that, Swiss took his leave. He practically stumbled down the hallway, hurrying past several ghouls and a few sisters, too lost in his inner beratement to care. 

You’re perfect? What kind of answer was that?!

~ ~ ~ ~

From then on Cumulus couldn’t get that one silly slip-up out of her mind. She knew he hadn’t meant to call her perfect. But he did, and since then her heart and head were in overdrive. 

Swiss was so different when he was removed from the other ghouls. His confidence, something she had first assumed was overly nurtured to the point of being ‘ cocky ’, seemed to disappear. In fact, sitting beside him alone in Papa’s office, he had almost seemed nervous . Like he was calculating his every word and movement carefully. And then there was the way he spoke about and even looked at her. Cumulus was completely blindsided. She could barely keep up with her and Papa’s conversation after the multi-ghoul had taken his leave, her mind very much on their brief time together. 

It would stay there for days. She would catch herself thinking about his voice, or his sparkling yellow eyes and how they had taken the time to look into hers. Aurora was quick to call her out, singing that she was daydreaming about someone and demanding to know who it was. Likewise with Sunshine.  Cumulus just shrugged them off. She wasn’t daydreaming about him, that’s not what this was. Right? She was just…thinking. And those thoughts just so happened to be about a certain multi-ghoul and his stupid (but wonderful) voice. And his eyes. And his mouth. And - 

“Hey, Lussy are we watching a movie or what?” Aurora called from the couch. 

Cumulus blushed as she broke away from her blissful daydream. Lucifer below , she was falling for that devil's charms and she didn’t know how to stop herself. 

She quickly finished making the popcorn and moved to find her place on the couch between Sunshine and Rain. They offered her part of their blanket to wrap around her legs before finally settling in to watch their movie of the night. More of the ghouls trickled in one by one and found their own places within the lounge. And then, halfway through the movie, Swiss and Dew sauntered in through the doorway. Late, as always. 

Phantom shushed them from his place between Mountain’s feet on the rug. Dew gave the younger ghoul a quick hiss and threw himself down in one of the unoccupied bean chairs. 

Swiss, however, took a moment to tie back his hair. His strong arms extended above his head as he worked his dark hair into a bun. Cumulus swallowed, her ears twitched upwards and the butterflies danced deep within her stomach. She couldn’t help but imagine those arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. Or maybe more . 

Then, out of nowhere, their eyes met and she could feel a deep blush rising up her neck and into her cheeks. Yet, neither of them looked away, even as Swiss’ own swarthy cheeks turned a nice shade of pink. 

The sound of the television brought them both crashing back to earth. Swiss visibly shivered, his tail quickly coming to wrap around his waist and his eyes blinking repeatedly as if awakening himself from a dream. Cumulus simply sunk herself further between her two companions, hoping no one else had noticed their brief interaction.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

There was much to arrange before the band went on tour and Papa Copia was, as always, unprepared. Not without the help of Cumulus who, of course, was the backbone of his bookkeeping. They’d been working closely together since her summoning and he found that he held a fondness for her much like a father does for a daughter. He was fond of all his ghouls of course, but Cumulus was something else. She was fierce and not afraid to tell him when he was being neurotic or behind on some important paperwork. She even had a knack for helping him through when he fell into a void of panic and anxiety, something that was fairly common in the lead to a tour. 

“And we have the hotel rooms booked for Vienna?” Copia worried his gloves through his hand as Cumulus tapped away on the keyboard of his laptop. 

“Yes, and the ones in Munich. The bus is also secured, premium with a sleeping capacity of eighteen and two lounges, just like you asked for.” Cumulus explained. 

Copia had called her to his office exactly three hours ago to have a ‘ brief ’ meeting about last-minute plans. The tour was to begin in seven days and the clergyman was beginning to feel like he was losing control. 

“That is good. Okay dokey. ” He sighed deeply, “ Ei, mio amico , I’m so sorry I’m taking you away from your other duties to hear me, how do you say it, lose my shit.” 

Cumulus sat back in her chair on the other side of the Papa’s ornate desk. She wasn’t much bothered about being there if she was honest. It relieved her of her duties in the library which, while she enjoyed it, left her too much time to think of him .

“ - Swiss -” 

Cumulus jumped at the sound of his name. Papa had been speaking to her, no doubt about another one of his anxieties, and she had damn near missed the whole thing. 

“W-what about Swiss?” She pressed.

“Nothing, amico. I was simply- ” Copia stopped, raising one of his eyebrows at the ghoul as he noted the soft blush in her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, “Are you okay mio?”

“Y-yes. Of course I am Papa.” 

“Then what had I just been talking about?” 

She couldn’t answer him because she had heard nothing of his previous sentence. Only the word ‘ Swiss ’ rang through her ears. 

“I-I-” She hung her head, defeated, “I don’t know Papa. I’m sorry, my mind must have wandered.” 

“To Swiss?” 

Cumulus met Copia’s eyes as her blush deepened. She could feel it spread across her chest and right to the tip of her ears. 

“ No , not to Swiss .”

“Oh, so you just so happened to lock onto his name, eh? Just like you both just so happen to steal those little glances during rehearsals? Or how you two look at each other when the other one is speaking? Tell me, amico , why do you never return his smile? He is always smiling at you and you pretend not to acknowledge it.” 

Cumulus was speechless. He was right about all of it, of course, but she hadn’t realised it had been that obvious .

“Are you both - “ Papa grasped his hands together in an innocent demonstration, “ Together , or whatever it is ghouls do?” 

“Um-no. It’s not like that, I mean -” Cumulus huffed out a sharp breath, “How did you know?” 

“You don’t spend years as a wallflower and not learn to watch people from the sidelines, mio amico .” 

“Do you think anyone else knows? Do you think Swiss knows?” Cumulus babbled. She cringed at the thought.

“Why would it be so terrible if Swiss were to know of this love -”

“ Like! I don’t love him. I just sort of like him… a bit.” The ghoul interjected.

“Why would it be terrible if he knew you liked him? Surely that would be for the better? Then you both can fall in love and - well, you know.” 

“I don’t want him to know. It’s not really any of his business and I’d rather it stay that way. I’m not here to find a mate, Papa. I’m here to work and mating only gets in the way of that. And he’s such an idiot . No - he’s definitely not what I want in a nesting partner.”  

Copia frowned.

“But your heart is telling you differently, no?”

Cumulus pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her bosom. Her heart may be telling her differently, but what did it know? She was to do her duty here and then, one day, retire to the pit. Simple as . There was no point in forming any romantic attachments because someday they would be gone either before or after her. And she didn’t want that emotional pain. Friends coming and going, she can deal with. But not a mate; not again. While her heart was pining for the multi-ghoul, her mind knew better. 

“My heart knows nothing, Papa. But my mind knows exactly how that sort of book would end, and I’m not prepared to jump into its pages.”

[fangirlshrewt97]

Straying into My Heart

Partially inspired by the absolutely delightful tag: Bheem’s little meow meow (which I think was coined by @rambheem-is-real, but if not, let me know who to acknowledge!)

A swift kick against his door startled Ram from his chair. Quickly moving to unlock the door, he grabbed a pocket knife which he kept curled behind his back. And yet, when he opened the door, he was met with a sight so baffling the knife fell onto the small stool beside him. 

Standing in the doorway, covered in mud and sand, with his jet black curls now a pale brown was Akthar. Specifically, he was in an equally dirty dothi, and in hands a squirming mass wrapped in a towel. Outside the drizzle turned into a downpour. 

"Oh thank God you were home, I was worried I may have to break the door to get in." Akthar said as he shouldered past Ram, who was still frozen with a half open mouth. "Anna close the door or you'll let the water in!"

Mechanically locking the door, Ram followed Akthar, grimacing as he caught sight of the muddy footprints. At least the younger man had avoided dripping any onto his books. In the small bathroom, Ram found Akthar with his sleeves rolled up, humming a song that was being drowned out by the whimpers of whatever was inside the towel. 

"Akthar, what the hell is going on? What is in the towel? Why are you covered in mud?!" Ram exclaimed. 

Akthar looked at him apologetically. "Sorry about disturbing you Anna, i just didn't want to aggravate his injuries farther and your place was closer than mine." 

"Him? Injured? What are you taking about?" 

In lieu of answering, Akthar unwrapped the towel, revealing a very angry cat that tried to lunge at Ram, claws gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the window. Ram backed away in surprise, arms raised to protect himself, but Akthar caught hold of the animal, grip strong enough that no amount of squirming would let him be released.

It was...it wasn't a particularly attractive cat, covered as it was in mud. One of it's ears was weirdly shaped and Ram realized it was too straight a wound to not have been man made. Above it's piercing black eyes was a small cut, and in them was a fury at being manhandled. Ram would have laughed if he didn't get the distinct feeling this cat was battle hardened and would aim for his throat.

"Ay, ay, just relax little one, I'm trying to help you!" Akthar cooed at the cat, bring it to his chest and running one of his huge hands down its back. He kept up the cooing until the cat stopped shredding at his arms and relaxed slightly, realizing they weren't going to hurt him further.

Akthar beamed the cat, cuddling the thing closer as he switched to whispering nonsense at whole simultaneously wetting the old towel in the water. Then switching his hold to pin the cat to him, he started to clean it, matching the volume of his comforting words to the volume of the cats yowls.

Ram stayed where he was, mesmerized as Akthar managed to turn the feral animal into a tame one.

He did notice when the water started running red. The cat must have been seriously injured to have that much blood on him.

Once Akthar had gotten the cat as clean as he could manage he turned to Ram.

"Anna, could you take him while I clean myself up?"

"Me?" Ram asked, strangled. "I-uh, I'm not the best with....animals." he finished lamely.

"Nonsense, look at him, he's exhausted. You just plop him down on a pillow and I am sure he will go right to sleep." He lifted the cat to look him in the eyes. "Yes you will won't you? Because you're such a brave and handsome and good kitten..."

Ram felt oddly like he was dying as he watched Akthar praise the cat more.

And an even odder desire to be the cat.

“Right. Just. Hold on a minute!” Ram yelled over his shoulder as he dashed back into his room, taking out his bigger shirt and loosest pants and a clean towel. He left them in a stool near the bathroom door.

“For when you are done cleaning yourself. Remember to also clean the mud from the bathroom too?” Ram asked, gulping as he stretched his arms away from himself.

Akthar laughed. “Anna, if you try to hold him like that he will be scared. Cats usually scratch people because they don’t feel secure. Here, come closer for a minute.”

“Akthar…”

“Just trust me.” Akthar said, looking at him with such a warm smile Ram melted to his knees in front of him on the dry side of the bathroom threshold..

Akthar switched to hold the cat in one hand, the beast still looking at him imperiously but secure in its position. Akthar positioned his hands and told him to hold them steady as he transferred the bundle of cat and towel into Ram’s arms.

Ram stiffened as the animal sat in his hands, both human and animal evaluating each other. Ram’s eyes widened in panic as the cat started to stiffen in his ow arms, preparing for an attack, only for Akthar to start stroking him over the towel again. He kept doing it till the animal calmed down, and Ram had a second of wanting Akthar to calm him the same way.

“There we go. Go on Anna, I will be out in a few minutes. Just put him down on the warmest part of the floor, and lock the doors so he doesn’t run away. He is quite tired, I’m sure he will fall asleep right away.” Akthar said as he pushed at Ram.

Ram kept his eyes trained on the cat, but as Akthar said, the cat merely yawned and rubbed itself on his chest before settling into his arms. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Ram went to the place near his big window, lowering himself to the ground before gently laying the cat on the floor.

The cat squirmed inside the towel some more, stretching again as it yawned before curling into itself.

Tentatively, Ram lay an arm on it’s side, pressing his hand more firmly when the cat didn’t react.

Now that he had been cleaned, one could see the cat had dark black fur, with a white belly, and a white stripe on one of it’s feet, plus a few on it’s tail.

Ram started running his fingers through his fur, softly at first, then sinking them in a little deeper. He paused when he felt vibrations beneath his hand, but then continued when the cat kept sleeping.

That was how Akthar found him, Ram sitting against the wall, one hand on top of the cat’s head, and the other stroking him.

“See, I told you you’d like him.” Akthar whispered as he lowered himself on Ram’s other side so that the cat lay between their thighs.

Ram’s lips curled upward. “I’ve never had a lot of chance to interact with animals. Or the desire to. Mostly I ignored them, and they ignored me.”

Akthar hummed. “Animals are wonderful Anna. So smart and they feel just as much as we do. They also love their cubs, they play with their kittens, they feel hunger and  fear and anger. People all like to claim that we are so much better than these other creatures, but look at the state of us. I look at them, and,” Akthar shrugged. “Life might be a lot simpler if we had been born anything but human.”

Ram’s heart ached at the deep sadness in Akthar’s voice, but he didn’t know the words to help him.

Akthar shifted to lift the cat, and before Ram could protest, placed him on Ram’s lap. The cat blinked his eyes open for a minute before turning until he found a comfortable position. Namely, trying to burrow into Ram’s stomach.

“What do you think we should name him?” Akthar asked, breath fanning across Ram’s cheeks as the younger man leaned over his shoulder.

Ram tried to contain his shiver, the combination of Akthar’s soft voice, warm body at his back, and the adoring look he was directing at him all being fatal to his concentration.

“Um.”

Akthar giggled, before running a hand over the cat’s head, fingers brushing over Ram’s stomach.

Ram did not whimper.

It was close though.

“If you name it you get attached to it. Are you planning on keeping him?” Ram finally managed to ask, so grateful his voice did not crack.

Akthar bit his lip as he scratched his head, and god why was Ram so weak?

“I was hoping you would?” Akthar asked, and Ram’s world shifted back into focus.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s just. Well you see my sister is allergic to cats, and I don’t want to put him back in the street Anna, look at him. I found him shivering under a crate, he had been so scratched up by some other street cats and starving. He practically swallowed both the fish I gave him. It was only after he had finished eating that I could get him still enough to be picked up.”

Ram stared down at the cat, and then back at Akthar’s doe eyes, so filled with hope.

“Absolutely not.”

Akthar’s pout magnified, eyes somehow getting even larger. “Don’t say that Anna, where will he go?”

To make matters worse, Akthar was now leaning on him, one arm curling at Ram’s elbow, and damn it no, he had a mission, he could not afford a pet!

“Akthar, when I am out at work, I can’t leave him here by himself! All my books will be destroyed!” Ram said, the excuse sounding pathetic to him.

Akthar sat up again, “That’s not a problem Anna, I can come by during my lunch breaks and before I go for work to feed him, I can take care of him all by myself, could you please just let him stay here?”

Ram looked at him helplessly, feeling how close he was to caving, but he shook his head.

“I’m really sorry Akthar, I can’t.”

Akthar’s shoulders slumped as his smile disappeared, face disappointed as he looked at the cat. Ram wanted that look gone.

“Wait, how about we ask the family downstairs? The grandmother with the two grandchildren who always gives you laddus?”

Akthar’s eyes lit up. “Bhagya didi? Anna that is a great idea!”

Ram ducked his head, feeling himself flush. “Hmm, I’m sure you can convince them to take him in. You’re very difficult to say no to.”

Akthar leaned in close, and Ram forgot to breathe. “You just told me no.”

Ram’s mouth dropped open, and there must have been some panic showing because Akthar backed away, though he had raised an eyebrow. There was a meow from the cat, and both men turned to it.

“We should still name him.” Akthar said.

“Why?” Ram asked confused.

“Because I found him! That means I get to name him!” Akthar declared, looking so proud of his logic. Ram couldn’t help but watch him with a besotted grin. What a fool he was. And Akthar too.

Knocking his head back against the wall, Ram hummed. “Fine. What do you want to name him?”

Akthar’s expression changed to one of deep concentration, his brows furrowing adorably as he bit his thumb. A minute later he snapped his fingers, eyes alight with mischief. “I know the perfect name for him!”

Ram raised an eyebrow, gaze still focused on the cat he had started stroking again. “Are you going to share your idea?”

“Raju!”

Ram squawked, both at the name and the fact Akthar reached to his lap and lifted the cat again who hissed in displeasure at being so rudely woken but blinked at the other man.

“What do you say dearest? Are you Raju? Yes you are, oh that name suits you!” Akthar cooed while Ram gaped at him.

“We are not calling him Raju!” Ram finally rasped out, and now it was Akthar’s turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“And why not Anna? You said I could name him. I want to name him Raju.” Akthar said firmly. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of the cat’s head. “Yes, you are my precious Raju aren’t you, so handsome and well-behaved.”

Ram whimpered faintly. Is this what dying felt like. How pathetic.

“Why Raju…” he begged, voice still faint as he continued watching Akthar shower affection on the cat.

He refused to be jealous of the cat.

God, he was doing a terrible job of it.

Akthar laughed, still not looking at him. “Because. He is handsome, and brave, and so strong. Just like you!”

That whimper definitely escaped him because Akthar finally lowered the cat to look at him, eyes widening at the sight of Ram.

“Anna! Are you ok?”

Was Ram ok? No. Definitely not.

He gave him his faintest smile and a thumbs up before leaving the room. With dignity.

He did not run out of the room. The disturbed papers floating to the ground in his wake had nothing to do with the speed of his exit.

He splashed his face with water, and looked at himself in the mirror.

“Get it together you idiot.” He hissed at himself before returning to the room. Only, he paused at the corner when he heard Akthar continue speaking.

“Hey you are up! Oh let me see, such big eyes you have, you’re so smart aren’t you. I am going to get you the biggest fish I can find tomorrow as a treat. My little Raju. I will visit you everyday with a fish. You will grow so strong and handsome and rule the streets.”

When Ram dared to peek into the room, he saw Akthar rubbing his forehead against the cat’s face, and the cat in turn had curled his tail around Akthar’s wrist and was purring in delight.

On the other hand, dying by accidentally slipping in his bathroom might be a less painful death than this. At this point he did not think he had any dignity to save.

///

@rorapostsbl, @alikokinav, hey since you guys asked to be tagged! What do you think? Did I get the characterization right? And did I name the cat appropriately?

[thegreatyin]

Okay- I must ask for Greylu and Caeru, but which I don't know?

Either-

"I just had the terrible realization I might be in love with you and I'm still processing what that means."

Or

"Wait, back up, I thought you hated me? I mean, I definitely won't complain if you kiss me again, but I'm kinda getting mixed signals here."

I cant decide which!

HA

gay

-

"Wait."

Shaking hands darted back as quickly as they came, and the scientist's mouth followed suit. He stared down at Nightmare with narrowed eyesockets, mouth slightly parted in a seeming attempt to speak words that refused to escape.

The King of Darkness blinked a single blue eye, meeting clouded jade- blue, really, it's always been blue- and winced. "Back up."

Like a robot obeying the commands of its creator, Sci took a step back. Nightmare flinched even more. "That- no- I mean- I definitely won't complain if you kiss me again, but..."

He cocked his head to the side, staring at the skeleton like one would a feral cat. "I thought you hated me?"

"...I... we... had a terrible realization." Sci whispered, slowly, bringing a hand up to dig his phalanges into the fabric of his already-frayed scarf. "I might be in love with you."

Nightmare squinted. "What?"

"I might be in love with you." The man hissed. "And I'm still processing- what that means."

"...we." he corrected, quieter. "We're still processing... everything."

Nightmare took a step closer. When Sci didn't back away, he repeated the motion, raising a hand. "May I-?"

His bones trembled. "Yes."

The scientist was promptly and immediately greeted with a hand spearing the end of his scarf, dragging him down to Nightmare's level. Sci sputtered and choked, a single curse escaping his non-existent lips before they were once again captured by the king's own.

And then Nightmare pulled away. "There. Now we're both even."

Blueberry blue spilled across Sci's skull. "I'm going to shove glass down your throat."

Nightmare shrugged, the motion clean and quick as he ducked around the frantic attempts to seize his shoulders. "You can try."

"NIGHTMARE."

"Scientist-"

Once more, a mouth closed against his own. Gentle hands ran through the dusty feathers against his back, ever-trembling, ever scarred.

Sci pulled away, pressing his skull against Nightmare's own. "You're utterly insufferable."

The king paused, eye wide- then smiled. "But you're mine."

His words were only met with a grumble and another desperate kiss.

[myrulia]

omg hi >_<

i just saw your prompt event, congrats on the 600, you deserve more <3

could i possibly get 14? whatever genre you want, go all out, thank you so much :)

.｡.:*✧Prompt 14: "I dream of you almost every night, hopefully I don't wake up this time."

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Yandere themes, abduction, shibari

╰╴⇢｡.:*✧A/N: I'm just accepting one follower at a time, 600 is still a lot!

Every night, he would follow you.

Every night, he would put you out of harm's way from the shadows.

Every night, he desired you dearly.

Kokushibou, or better known as the Upper Moon One, has harbored feelings for you since he first saw you in your village one night, you walking without a care in the world despite other worldly creatures such as himself having the advantage. You were a human as well, so it was naturally wrong for a demon to develop feelings for the one thing he eats, no?

Of course, the demon has taken this into consideration, but each time he thinks of your face, a nostalgic wave hits him hard in the head, causing his senses to be knocked off for just a bit. Due to you being the cause of this, he wanted to get to the bottom of it as much as possible. 

This proved to be rather difficult.

Over time, the more he tried to figure out reasons as to why he felt this way when he saw your face, and everytime he would come in dangerous proximity with you, his feelings developed more and more to a feral lust of love. Love for you.

The day he found out about this was the day he was just a few feet away from you. Him being in a dark alley, and you walking down the pathway beside it. He got such a picture perfect view of your face and the warming smell of your scent that his addiction to you in general grew even more.

Kokushibou is indeed an honest man and will not deny that he has feelings for you, so now in that same realization, he also believes that you belong to him for those reasons.

He had watched over you so much and protected you without you knowing knowing he felt a sense of entitlement to having you - after all, he did do all of this when he is a man-eating creature bound to the night. He immediately thought that these sacrifices he made towards his goal was all the reason that he should achieve it.

The days that he spent without you near him made the male grow restless in his own skin as his mind wavered to you each and every time he tried to meditate for peace and resolve, but this also failed.

So without a second thought, tonight was the night that he would make you his, whether there were others there or not, his goal shall be achieved. 

He traveled swiftly so that the mission he set his eyes on since the beginning would finally come to an end before the sun rose, giving him a limited amount of hours of leisure time. So with that, it only motivates Kokushibou to move faster. 

Before he knew it he found himself in the same alleyway where he got the first full glimpse of your face, giving him that same warm - almost human like feeling within his undead heart. Just like before, as if the moment was replaying all over again, there you were walking down the same path, yet this time, you stopped.

You stopped and stared.

Kokushibou expected a scream of terror, but instead he was met with your dumbfounded expression.

`` Who are you? ``

You asked with such gentleness, moving closer towards the mysterious figure who was just as dumbfounded as you were, but something inside his nervous system edged him forward, his hand raising to touch you.

`` Who are you talking to, [Y/N]-san? ``

Before the demon could process his next choice of actions, his own body betrayed him by pulling you into the alleyway with him and into his chest. Your face only grew in more confusion, but a large hand covered your mouth before you could give voice to the situation.

`` [Y/N]-san? [Y/N]-sannn?? ``

The stranger's voice called out, but with no response, the human simply turned around in the opposite direction and went about their night as if nothing happened. Pulling his hand away slowly as said person leaves, Kokushibou turns his head and tilts his chin down to get a better look at your state, only to find you staring at his facial features with such enticement and curiosity in your eyes.

Seeing you in such ways sent the demon's feelings in disarray once more. It was as if he was in the past again, because standing before him, from over 400 years ago, was his former human wife. He looked around, lost in his own memory before your voice called out to him, bringing him from the small flashback.

`` Sir, do I know yo- hey wait! ``

Suddenly you were thrown over Kokushibou's shoulder and felt the chilled wind on your face as you moved with such speed out of the village that you were left utterly astonished. Yes, you did know that demons exist and their natural diet is humans, but something told you this one was different - and you were always raised to trust your judgement.

Although curiosity does kill the cat.

`` Where are you taking me? Who are you and why are you abducting me?! ``

`` We will be home soon. ``

That was all that came from the demon's lips, and just like that you found yourself in a massive building with rooms and staircases coming from every direction. Your eyes tripled in size, being truly taken aback by your new surroundings and how it seemed impossible to be true.

Kokushibou opened a door to a certain room in what he knew was the Infinity Fortress, setting you down on your bottom - but being quick in his moments he tied you up with a specific type of shibari you have not seen before. It was the type you had seen samurai use in the books provided by your caregivers, but the one before you looked nothing of the samurai you saw in your books.

The thing before you was unmistakably a demon.

A man eating-demon that now had you as its prey.

Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, doubting your judgement and kind spirit from the very beginning and even allowing yourself to become so easy of a target. You pushed yourself by your feet until your back hit a wall, skin trembling in fear at what your future holds. Kokushibou merely took slow strides in your direction, kneeling down and using his index finger to lift your chin up so he could examine your face better.

`` It is no mistake, you are meant to be here, my love from so long ago. ``

You jerked your head back, lips trembling to get any sort of words out, but as you got a visible view of the demon's fangs, worry set in your bones.

`` I have no cl..clue what you speak of, but we have not met before. ``

Kokushibou tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, moving so that his much bigger form was looming over your own.

`` You in this time period may not remember, but you from the past does. You have always been mine, and this has sealed it. Our fates tie together, my dear. ``

You had no idea what the man before you spoke of, but you too felt a nostalgic feeling as he grew closer and closer, although the fear that latched onto your nervous system would not let go.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his hand touched your cheek, your gazes never daring to tear away from each other. With your hands tied it was not like you could escape so easily, as well as your legs being tied together so that you could not run either. You were helpless and out of control of your situation, tears pricking your eyes at this fact.

`` I dream of you almost every night, hopefully I don't wake up this time. We will now be together again, my love, and nothing can change that. ``

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

[vikingstoner69]

Alucard (smut) form my old account not edited

They say that everyone has a mate, and once you find your mate nothing and no one can take you away from them. I was not a normal human being I was a feral muntin of the cat kind and with my power, I can change into a large cat or a small one it really depended on what I needed.

" (Y/N) I have a need for you to take the wild geese and go and track down the vampire who is draining a town full of people" I looked over at my boss who just so happens to be the one who was the master or monsters and I fit right in with that. I was a monster and I had no problem with that.

"Of course, my Master," I said bowing down to her before walking out of the door It was about 30 years since the blitz in London and they were still waiting for this Alucard guy to show up. I had come to Sir Integra just after that day having saved her life back then and I was the one who helped run things after. I did just about anything she needed me to and with the power I had I could go days without sleep and would be just fine.

"Let's go Pip grab the guys, we got a job to do," I said looking over at my best guy friend as he lit up a cancer stick. In the acatke, on the manner, Pip was wounded so badly and almost died only to bring himself back from death by drinking the blood and becoming a vampire.

"Oi (Y/N) where are we headed?" he said as the guys got into the jeeps

"We're going to cheddar to kill a vampire" I said grinning my fangs on full show Pip smiled back.

(Later)

I walked into the manner after writing up a report and headed down to my room I knew my master was asleep and would give it to her in the morning. I heard the sound of gunshots and ran as fast as my legs would carry me to my master's room where I came face to face with sears and her big ass gun. She kicked open the door flashing everyone when I heard her gasp.

"Master!" She yelled out before lowering her gun I, on the other hand, kept my tense stance.

"What the hell is going on? Master are you alright?" I asked coming to stand close to her as I walked more into the room the scent of this man made me purr out before I could stop myself making My master looked at me with a raised brow.

"Yes, I'm sure you would like to know who this is (Y/N) this is Alucard the one who we have all been waiting to return," she said while sitting on the bed I felt a pull towards this man and was hoping like hell he was not my mate.

"Well if there is no danger than I shall take my leave, good night master," I said not looking over Alucard and walked out of the room. I had no clue what was going to happen now but I had a feeling I was being followed and just as I opened my door Alucard was sitting in my chair.

"So you took my place while I was gone?" he asked with a bored tone I had to give it to him he sure was sexy.

"Somewhat, I'm not really human so I can do things other can't trust me though it's been really boring," I said thinking all of the times I went on hunts only to come up with someone who was not worth even my time to fight.

"Tell me how old are you?" I looked over at him finding that he looked like someone I had met before only I could not put my finger on where i had seen him before.

"Eh, about 300 years old give or take," I said sitting down on my bed he was nice to talk to even if he is prying into my life. Even though I know this I find myself unable to hold back when he asks me things. "If you have nothing else to say I'm gonna get some sleep," I said as I pulled the blankets back so I could get into bed I felt the air around me heat back up and knew that Alucard had left.

(One Month Later)

"You was reckless! If I didn't step in you would have been killed" Alucard growled form everything I knew about him the only one he truly cared about was our master and the police girl.

"Oh please, I can't be killed, trust me I would have been dead a long time ago," I said stripping off my top to show him I was healed I felt his cool body get closer to mine and felt him run his fingers down my back.

"Tell me when do you plan to stop fighting this and give in?" he growled out his face close to my neck inhaling my scent.

"I have no clue what you mean," I said turning around to face him and felt my knees go weak at the look on his face.

"You are my mate, my queen, my fourth bride," he said with each kiss to my lips before deepening the kiss and stealing my breath away. I was lost to his touch and the taste of him I knew what he was saying was true but I was still going to make him fight for it. I was not the type to lay down and give in, I was a fighter.

"Oh really? You think that? Hmm, how about you prove it then" I said holding him close to my body his cool hard body felt wonderful against my hotter body with what I am I ran a little hotter than normal.

"I plan on it" Before I knew it I was laying on my back naked with a very sexy powerful vampire laying on top of me kissing sucking on my neck. I could feel his fangs scrape my neck and turned my head a little more giving him more room to work with. I had a plan to fight him but I didn't say I would not enjoy what he was doing.

While Alucard was working on my neck I tightened the hold on his hips and flipping us over so I was on top and I leaned down to crash his mouth to mine our fangs clashing and our tastes mingled together making me moan. I could feel how hard he was and wanted to taste him badly so I started to kiss down his neck leaving little bites as I went until I was face to face with his manhood. He was the biggest I had ever seen and couldn't wait till he was inside of me.

"Who said you could be on top? I heard him growl out as I licked the tip tasting him I locked my eyes with his before taking him fully into my mouth and down my throat making myself gag on him. I felt him grab onto my hair and held me in place before thrusting up and fucking my mouth while he was doing that I started to rub on his balls making him lose his pace and thrust up into me a little harder.

"Fuck, You suck my cock so well, take all of me I plan to cum down you pretty little throat" Alucard growled out before fucking my throat how he wanted I loved how he was using me even though I was on top he was very much in control and I loved a man who knew what he wanted and could take control of me in the bedroom. I knew he was close and sucked extra hard on him making him jump over the edge and cumming down my throat. I slowly sat up keeping his cock in my mouth as long as I could before I let him go with a loud pop and licked my lips. Before I knew it I was back on my back and he was raging hard again.

Alucard kissed me biting my lip till I opened my mouth to him and our tongues dueled for dominance. He won in the end only because he cheated by playing with my clit. I was dripping wet and was close to begging him to fuck me. I don't even remember the last time I had been fucked good and hard.

"Your dripping already and I have barely even touched you, my queen," he said while speeding up his pace I was a moaning mess by the time I felt his long as fuck tongue plunge into my hot wet cunt fucking me. I arched up and grabbed a fist full of his hair and was pulling him closer to me my claws starching his scalp making him groan.

"Fuck! Please don't stop, make me cum on your tongue" I begged while I started to thrust into wet needy cunt on his warm tongue I heard him growl and throw my head back at the feeling, it sent me on my clit. I was so close to coming that when he pinched my clit it sent me over the edge Alucard was making a happy sucking sound as if I was the best thing he has ever tasted in his life.

"Are you ready for me?" Alucard said as he moved his body back up was he was nestled in between my legs I was more than ready for him. I wanted him to fuck me tell I could not move anymore.

"Fuck me, Make me your, Make me forget about anyone else but you" I moaned out while thrusting my hips up into his feeling his hard manhood rubbing on my clit.

"As you wish" was the last thing I heard before my world was crashing down when he plunged into my cunt fucking me right off the bat. Alucard didn't wait to let me adjust he fucked me like he was a man possessed. My nails were digging down into his back drawing blood making him growl out his fangs got longer. I could feel I was losing control of my animal side and flipped us over where I was on top of him. Alucard grabbing my hips and started to thrust upon me as I took control of the speed and rode him how I wanted. I was so fucking close to cumming that I had nothing else On my mind but finding my peak.

"Fuck, Yes, Fuck me just like that! You feel so good inside me" I moaned out I was flipped back onto my back with him on top of me the whole time we were fighting for who was going to be on top. Our fucking was more like a fuck and fight only this time no one would die.

"Who do you belong to" I heard him growl in my neck but I was too far gone to speak and was only able to moan for him. The feeling of his hand around my neck choking me brought me back to myself and I could understand what he had asked me.

"You! I belong to you!" with my words I felt him sink his fangs into my neck drinking my blood I had this uncontrollable urge to bite him as well and did just that. Marking him as my mate for the rest of his undead life. The feeling of him sucking my blood pushed me over the edge and I came screaming his name my nails going down his back drawing blood.

When I finally came back to myself I realized that he was no longer on top of me and that a blanket was over us both. I rolled over and laid my head on his chest where his heart should be beating only to find it wasn't. Alucard's cool body helped to cool me down after our mating.

"Well, That was fun," I said yawning my eyes were getting heavy and knew sleep was not far off

"Agreed" was the last thing I heard before I was pulled into the darkness of the dreamworld.

[jeonfiiction]

Kitten - J.K.

Pairing: jungkook x reader genre: smut word count: 1142 warnings: dom!jk, female!reader,sub!reader, hybrid!reader, a little bit of brat!reader, light degradation (he calls reader a bitch), hair pulling?, honestly light eh smut and fluff

A/N: My first fiction, on this account. I have posted this on a different account but that one was deleted and I wanted to post something. This is very old and kinda..very much so sucks in my opinion but I hope yall enjoy!

The sunlight seeped through the slightly open windows of the bedroom. Soft purrs and a light chuckle is the only sound that echoed off the walls this early. Jungkook had known when he had met you that dating a Cat Hybrid would be different and the early morning wake ups had become a part of his daily life. 

"Good Morning Love." He softly whispered. Your head nuzzling into his neck, ears brushing his jaw. Your lips left soft kisses on his skin and your arm slowly moved to wrap around his neck to pull him closer. He could feel your tail brushing against his leg from under the sheets and a sleep filled smile spread across his lips. 

"Morning." You replied after a moment. The deep hum from your chest ceasing as you slowly looked up to him. Free hand moving to rub your eyes. His brown orbs looking at you with love and softness. 

"Breakfast?" Jungkook asked gently. Leaning up on his elbows. Sheet sliding down his bare chest and the action gaining your attention. Those sharp eyes moving to the contours of his muscles and slight smirk forming on his lips at how you soaked him in. "Kitten, breakfast?" He repeated and stopped a chuckle when your cheeks flushed a soft pink and you nodded. Jungkook watched as you climbed from bed. His shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, falling to your thighs. Tail waving a tiny bit where it peaked out from the shirt. His teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watched you walk away with a teasing shake of your hips. 

____

Jungkook hummed as he moved around the kitchen to cook. Solely focused on the task at hand and paying you my mind when you strolled into the kitchen, still wearing your night clothes. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as he concentrated. Even if the task was simple, he always seemed so focused and intent on doing his very best. 

Your eyes however, didn't linger on his facial expressions long. Slowly running down his still bare chest. Ears twitching at the sight of your fading nail marks on his chest from a few nights ago, when a part of Jungkook had come out. Your normally sweet giver of a lover had turned almost feral and the thought of seeing that side of him again made a shit of arousal go through you, your tail stilling. The way his sweatpants hung low on his hips had more nasty thoughts developing in your mind. 

Like how his eyes had turned dark. 

His hands running over your skin, tugging your tail. Face pressed into the pillows as he…

"Baby?" His voice made you jump. Eyes snapping up to his face and you felt your cheeks grow hot. The human man's eyebrow rose slowly at your reaction before chuckling. Your ears are pressing against your head in shyness.

"Ye...yes?" You said softly. Ears twitching up a tiny bit and your tail wrapping around your leg. 

"Come here." Jungkook said quietly. Beckoning you over with one finger. Your ears pressed down again. Biting down on your lip and deciding to test the water. His eyes narrowing when you shook your head. "Hm? No Kitten?" Jungkook asked slowly. He knew you were playing. You could see the way his eyes sparked with a knowing glare. Something dark underneath the usual sweet caring man. That very thing making your thighs pressed together. Tail unwrapping and swaying a little. 

Jungkook's eyes flickered to your legs before raising an eyebrow. Moving a little to turn off the stove. Your lips twitched almost into a smile but you stopped yourself when he turned back. 

"You are going to get yourself into trouble, kitten." The nickname came out as a low growl. Even if he was human, it made your ears go up and tail still. Your lips spread into a shy smile as he started towards you. 

____

Your face was pushed down into the pillows the second Jungkook had taken you to the room. Your (his) shirt had been taken off somewhere along the way and you were grateful for it. Loving the way his hands ran down your bare back before reaching your hips. Tail of yours brushing against his hand. 

"Still not satisfied?" Jungkook hummed. Your response coming in the form of a muffed whine when he ripped off your underwear. Hands of yours holding the sheets, lifting your head a bit. "Head down." He ordered and watched as you dropped it back down. 

His fingers slowly ran down your ass before you felt the bed shirt. Legs of his being forced between yours to spread them and his bulge being pushed into your ass slowly. 

"Feel that?" He growled. His free hand leaning and wrapping in your hair to yank your head up. Ears twitching as you whimpered. Enjoying the pain the tug had caused. "Little girl. Makes me so hard." Jungkook's lips moved to your neck slowly. The hot breath coming from them sends shivers down your spine. Legs spreading more and pushing your ass back against him. 

"Want...more." A soft purr escaped from your lips as he let your head drop to the bed and slowly grinded into you from behind. Your ears twitched when he pulled away a little and after a moment, felt his bare cock brush against your folds as he pressed himself back against you.

"Ready baby?" Jungkook whispered, a subtle change in his demeanor. Your head nodding quickly and pushing your hips back more. He hummed before slowly pushing his thick shaft on whilst gripping your tail. Enjoying the loud purr that escaped you. "Fuck...such a tight bitch of mine." 

Your mouth fell open as he thrusted hard into you. Feeling so full of him. Always so full of him. The addicting drag of his cock against your inner walls bringing out loud moans and whimpers. Clawing the sheets. His free hand moved down slowly. Pressing himself against you and rocking his hips. Skilled digits finding your clit and slowly rubbing it. 

"Come kitty." He ordered. Feeling your walls tighten and finally the pleasure exploding behind your eyes. Eyes rolling as you cried out. Tail wrapping around his hand to try and help ground yourself. "Fucking hell." Jungkook groaned. Letting himself release inside you at the feeling of your tight walls around his cock. "My good kitty." 

____

Your legs still shook as he finished lotioning them. Rubbing the inside of your thighs gently before pulling his shirt down to cover you. Your ears twitch as he laid beside you. Arms wrapping around your body. 

"I love you Kitten." Jungkook whispered, pecking your lips. Eyes of your closed but a soft smile spreading across your lips. Heart growing with your love for him.

"I love you too Guk."

[spooky-z]

In your pack au it says that the Fam know about everything since the pack thought that it would be easier this way instead of having to explain everything later, but what about the other superheros? What would happen if on a mission Damian is captured or hurt and the other heros/JL/Teen Titans members are panicking only to have this group of FERAL animal themed heros bust in to save the day?

Here it is. 1.3k of badass pack!

PACK’S FURY

Warning: blood. Lots of blood and violence. Gore (I think) and Dark.

Blood.

There was blood, a lot of blood.

Damian's blood.

Damian, who was as limp as a rag doll in Bruce's arms after being hit by a bullet.

Weak pulse, unconscious.

Everyone was fighting and she should be doing the same, but the sight of Damian, fragile and broken, was glued to her eyes. Burning like fire soaked in alcohol.

Everything Marinette was capable of feeling; anger running through every part of her body, from the sole of her foot, to the root of her hair. The fear of losing someone she loved. Impotence for not being able to prevent it from happening ...

She was ready.

Ready to finish.

To destroy.

To avenge.

And the pack, like her, wanted blood.

They wanted to hunt, bite, tear, crush, vaporize those responsible for this.

Viperion looked at Ladybug, he was barely able to control himself, wanting permission. A signal. Chat Noir had its claws embedded in the concrete. Queen Bee buzzed like an angry beehive. Ryuko had smoke coming out of her nose. Pegase and Roi Singe had murderous expressions.

They were waiting for the alpha prime command.

And Ladybug was already tired of waiting for Batman's signal.

They were losing.

A green hero - whom she vaguely resembles Damian calling him Garfield - had been knocked out by two villains. The shadowy girl in the cloak was overwhelmed looking after another group while trying to protect him.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood and Blue Beetle were trapped and injured by dozens of men.

Star Fire fought and tried to cover Batman, who protected Damian.

Meanwhile, the man who had shot Damian, watched everything as if it were the best comedy film he had ever seen.

"... Leave him to me." She says, her voice clinical and emotionless. “Make them regret hurting what's belongs the pack. I want them to suffer.”

It didn't take much more words for the group to come out of hiding and attack.

Chat Noir's cataclysm vaporized dozens at once; Queen Bee paralyzed everyone she could, while Roi Singe and Pegase destroyed them; Ryuko cremated everyone who dared to get close; Viperion took no care in breaking necks.

They paved the way for alpha prime to reach her goal.

American heroes - and aliens - looked horrified by the bloodbath. The mad eyes. The cruel smiles when blood spilled and the henchman fell dead on the floor.

"My God." Nightwing whispered, incredulous of what he was watching.

Children who were once pure sun and rainbows were now bloodthirsty demons looking for revenge. He felt his stomach churn.

Red Robin believed that it could only be a hallucination induced by some toxin, because it couldn't be real.

Red Hood had sat on the floor, worn out and not at all surprised. He knew what potentialized hatred was capable of doing to even the best of men.

Blue Beetle, Raven and Beast Boy - who had woken up - retreated amid the carnage. That group was an uncertain and unstable group, they didn't know if they could be trusted.

Star Fire was in a defensive position, even though she knew who they were, instinct speaking louder than reason. Her tension grew when one of them, all in green with scales, approached her and Batman.

The whole place froze watching the scene.

He held out his arms to the man, paying no attention to her.

"Give him to me." Demanded.

Batman stepped back as if to hide Robin from the other hero, but the angry whistle and the icy gaze held him in place.

"I said, give him to me." He waved his hands. “You don't want to face the fury of the pack, Batsy. We are not in our best mood right now, so you better cooperate.”

Batman hesitated for a moment, but ended up handing Robin over to the other hero.

"What-" Star Fire murmured confused when Robin was placed on the floor.

The boy did not seem to have heard her as he bent over Robin's body, placing his left hand over the bullet wound in the kevlar.

For a moment, she thought he was mourning over his body, but then his hand began to shine and the glow began to envelop the vigilant’s entire body. The light show didn't last barely five seconds before it went out and Robin stood up in panic, choking on the air.

The chest, where there should have been a bullet hole, now fully healed. No traces of blood.

He looked confused at everyone, before his gaze landed on the scaly hero.

“Viperion? What are you doing here?"

The hero sighed in relief and smiled.

"We came to take what was ours, Ure."

"We...?" And then he noticed the unusual color in the place.

Queen Bee strangling the last henchman on the floor.

"Did you come to Gotham because of me?!" He complained.

Viperion opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"We would go to hell for the pack, my love." Ladybug replied.

She was standing in the center of all the carnage. The red-spattered face and the black gloves of the suit, dripping blood on the concrete floor. At her feet, Harvey Dent – Two-Face - lay dead. The jaw completely broken, the left eye missing and the right arm at an unnatural angle.

Damian's heart raced at the sight.

His angel had become a demon and all he could think about was how he wanted to kiss her breathlessly.

"We have a rule of not killing, Ms. Ladybug." Batman cut Robin's line of thought. "You and your... pack... just killed thirty men without mercy."

The pack made a mocking sound.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at the man.

"And...?" Her voice was icy. “They took what is mine. They hurt and almost killed him.” The Parisian heroes - except Viperion, who still held Robin - approached her. "No one who hurts the pack, survives to tell a story."

Batman sighed tightly.

"Even so. We don't do that in Gotham.”

Ladybug put a finger to her chin, eyes away; seeming to ponder the man's words before focusing on him again. The face contorted in an animalistic expression.

"So, the next time Robin is sent on a solo mission, keep in mind that if he suffers any serious injury, it will happen again." She smiled bestially. “You're lucky that I'm not around your neck, Batsy. Because that's what I want to do.”

And everyone felt the truth in those words.

She was prepared to burn the whole world if the pack was attacked.

BONUS:

"Bro, Robin's girlfriend is scary like him." Beast Boy whispered to Blue Beetle.

"Her friends too." The bluish hero replied. “And what is this about a pack? Does it have to do with those animal suits?”

They didn't notice the presence behind them, until it was too late.

"You are very curious, huh." Chat Noir put his arms around the shoulders of the two heroes, who jumped in fright. He had a smile that would seem docile, if it weren't for the sharp look. “But I think it's better if you keep that curiosity for yourself. It's just like that proverb: curiosity killed the cat and I'm sure you don't want to die, right?"

Beast Boy and Blue Beetle nodded violently.

Chat Noir smiled even more.

"Great!" He released both of them and clapped his hands, passing them. “It was nice to finally meet the other Ure partners. I hope to be able to fight alongside you again in the future. Have to go now! Bye!" He waved and a portal opened in front of him, swallowing the hero and disappearing.

The american heroes were paralyzed by what had happened.

"I really hope I don't have to meet them again."

"I agree."

I hope I have met your expectations.

[mask-of-prime]

Summary of Art - 2021

Sorry for basically using this to talk about how it's been a hell year but I can't be quiet about it (no, nothing you can do to help, I just think staying silent about my issues is stupid)

I didn't produce much art this year due to highly stressful events, like a major disagreement with friends whom I now feel very different about, moving houses on short notices to a very far away neighborhood that's miles away from stores, having a cherished 24-year-old plant be put down (for the stupidest reason, was too tall for the new house as it'd basically been a tree at that point), losing motivation to do art or have a personality because the voices of those aforementioned friends would make judgmental comments in the back of my mind (even when you know they're defensively bullshitting you, the words still cut just enough to question if they could be right about you), taking my first ever 4-credit college class (and honestly the first time I'd done online learning long after it'd been normalized), and losing energy at the end of the week from school so art wouldn't be made fast enough All of this made harder by the ever-worsening dysfunction of my family who really took advantage of living so far from anything that you can never just leave the house, as well as being cooped up in "quarantine" (which just isn't anything anymore, went from a simple and somewhat interesting 2-week lockdown to people being forced back to work or being stupid by questioning simple instructions and getting society sick all over again due to uncertainty and stirring the pot). All in all I feel like either hitting the reset button on life or just want to be invisible from existence (came pretty close to something much worse) If there's anything I am grateful about this year, it's that I'd met the sweetest little black mama cat (Luna) who had two black kittens (Shadow and Silhouette), the latter of which remain in my backyard while Luna left after she'd completed her caring and loving duty as a mother. When I watched Luna raise her kittens, I felt like I'd been watching a Disney movie; the way she played with them looked so wholesome and utopian the way they'd hop around in the grass together, every cat had a distinct appearance, mannerism, and personality. I'm unsure what the future holds for Shadow and Silhouette, they're strays (well, Shadow acts like the perfect pet and Silhouette seems feral as he's quite shy and plays a little rough with people's feet when hungry) Another thing I'm grateful for is the introduction to the show Arcane thanks to a friend who'd been into League of Legends (for its lore not its toxic tournaments lol) long before the show came out, and walked me through every detail before entering the show and after I had questions for it as I finished watching, it's incredibly detailed in visuals and story and every bit of its animation is stylized and choreographed to that of a music video, and it immediately made its spot as one of my top fandoms because of all the compatible aspects Art resolutions? Definitely find time to draw more (which... sounds easy), introduce some projects I'd been planning for the past few years, maybe post sketch dumps from old papers of mine every now and then to up the upload frequency and because there's some stuff I've always wanted to show you Life resolutions? Been fantasizing being alone doing my own thing for a while, should learn to drive and apply for a job and be more active in initiating hangouts with IRL friends, gotta find a way to be outside... maybe therapy of some kind if simply heading outside isn't enough :/ At least my goal to diversify from TLK art has been fulfilled, there's a whopping two non-TLK things in here but it actually doesn't do the rest of my gallery justice, I've diversified way more than that lol

[mihorapendeja]

happier than ever | tsukishima x you

the one shot in which tsukishima basically falls for a female version of everyone's favorite sunny tangerine.

genre: fluff/soft core smut lmao i haven't done this in years i feel silly but here you go

pairing(s): kei tsukishima x you (referred to as "ria kihira" in part 1 bc this was originally going to be an OC thing but nvm a/n's: show this some love and interaction pls.

PART 1: THE PAST

❝Again?❞ Even though Tsukishima complained again, this time he made it easier for her as he even stood completely still. Such a good boy.

❝Let her beat your face!❞ Shoyo exclaimed as she smiled in delight, then moving on to pat the powder puff on his stupid face. Of course she only took a few seconds for him, but all the time in the world for Hinata.

While the two chirped about the new reboot trailer for Dexter, Kuroo's sleazy self slid beside his lanky child with an extra smug look on his face. That man was a menace.

❝Say, don't you think they look related?❞

Tsukishima was a difficult man to catch off guard, but right then and there, a mini existential crisis kicked in. His eyes darted back and forth between Shoyo and Ria Kihira, the makeup artist on set for the commercial filming day.

Kei knew Kuroo was a slut for all the pretty things in life — he constantly had a trope of hot women surrounding him.

But this time, he'd really outdone himself.

Not a stupid man entirely, a huge shit-eating grin formed on Tetsuro's face. He followed Kei's eyes who desperately wandered back and forth their matching hair, skin tone, lack of height... "please let it be a mere coincidence because it's bad enough that—" Kei shut his own intrusive mind from further thinking as he slapped his hand over Kuroo's mouth shut. Tight.

That hyena laugh was not being unleashed today.

THE STORY OF HOW YOU MET:

ca. 2019, on set of a commercial for one of Kuroo's production companies. After Tetsuro had defeated Kei in a game of beer pong, he had to comply with the loser's bet -- be part of the damn commercial along with Shoyo, for a viewership boost. So he said. Ria was the makeup artist on set that day, and it pretty much went from Tsuki acting like a feral cat who didn't want to be touched by any makeup tools, to blissfully passing out in a chair while she gently stroked his face with a soft powder brush.

Near the end of the day when he'd no longer back away from her with animosity, it was Kuroo's stupidly astute observation that left him rattled. The boy was put into a choke hold because he refused to like someone with the same orange hair and milky skin tone as Hinata. Someone equally bright, bubbly, and stupid ... yeah that refusal didn't last long. Ria spoke her mind so freely, being direct but never pleading because she respected herself in that regard. He liked that and before Kei knew it, he found himself admitting to her that he was, "actually quite fond of you." She understood it was his way of saying those pesky 3 words, 8 letters.

PART 2: THE PRESENT, 3 YEARS LATER.

THE ALARM CLOCK rang it’s deathly siren like tone, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. Although he defensively stretched an arm out over your chest as if ready to protect, Kei did not get up.

Of course he wouldn't.

Like every morning at 4am, it was you who suffered the most when getting out of bed to grab the phone to silence that torture down. As you had deeply sighed and turned to face the bed, Tssuki was now face up with the covers all the way up to his nose.

Even in your groggy state, you could tell he was smirking. That smug bastard stared at you intently, dead still. While Kei typically minded his own business and was at times thought of as quiet, the boy was definitely not shy. You wouldn't call him a total flirt, but he could so hold onto a gaze without so little as batting a long eyelash.

Kei was, extremely competitive. Lightning would have to strike his literal eyes to keep them from staring at you, specifically at your curvy thighs.

The way your soft cotton shorts rode up them was always a very pleasant sight, so he just kept staring, happily.

He loved that little penguin walk you busted into every morning when shutting the alarm off.

It’s like you couldn’t balance properly, and he swore that you were always shorter looking in the early hours of the day. He didn’t know how you could lack more height than you already did at barely 5 feet 2, but it always seemed that way.

It was especially cute, like he could just grab you and keep you in the palm of his hand.

Tired, you sat back down on the bed. You scooted until meeting the headboard, and then just let her head dip back.

It was so incredibly peaceful until you could no longer ignore his obvious glaring. “If you’re awake already, why don’t you get up?”

“It’s barely 4:05,

we don’t go in till 5am.”

He said so factually that you just deeply exhaled. Tssuki was definitely not a morning person, and neither were you.

Even though you were much more energetic, it was a Friday and you could not wait for the end of the workday already.

While Tssuki could be late to practice because let's be honest, few would even confront him, you could not pull off the same irresponsibility.

You cared way too much, and in general, hated the feeling of being late to anything. "Come on." You murmured, nudging Kei as he completely ignored you and kept on sleeping.

You waited for another minute before climbing out of bed, grabbing his attention once again. This time, your black shorts were scrunched further up. So far up that your ample ass cheeks were out in all their glory.

“Arigato, thank you god.”

Nishinoya would say.

“Well I’m not as naturally good looking as you so I’m gonna go shower and start getting ready.”

You huffed, truly riling Kei up inside. Hearing you say that genuinely made something inside of his stomach stir, so he instinctively reached out towards your wrist.

Even in the dark room, he could see your face clearly and tell you weren’t joking. "The fuck is wrong with her?" He thought, not angry, but extremely concerned because you weren't fishing for a compliment.

The two of you had been together for over 3 years now, and so he more than knew that you were not that kind of girl.

Yes, you lacked height at 5’2, but you were physically strong. Literally, you could carry all the grocery bags in one go with no issues. Lifting abilities? Check.

Even though Tssuki cruelly chose the apartment with extra high kitchen shelves, you would never ask for help to reach for stuff. "Help I can't reach" was not a phrase that existed in your world.

Literally, he’d sometimes walk in for some juice and find you on top of a chair reaching for something, if not on the literal counter tops to store items.

Independent? Check.

Resourceful? Check.

On top of all that, you had a voluptuous body he thought was fucking scrumptious. He understood that the norms for women in Japan could be vicious, especially if you weren’t a slender door like he was, but despite your insecurities, you still wore it all so well. You didn’t let it stop you from wearing whatever you wanted (as you should).

At times he did think you were a little bit stupid for fretting over such body image issues, but Tssuki was okay with that.

He didn’t want a know it all like himself, that be beyond insufferable.

Before he knew it, you were teaching him a thing or two as well. So Tssuki then knew you were not a vapid pick me girl, and that was honestly a pretty big turn on for him.

SPEAKING OF TURN ons, Kei found it incredibly hot to have you pinned beneath him, like you currently were.

It wasn’t an ingenue kink, to have you below him so submissively and weak, no. It was the way you fought to assert yourself, and the way you writhed. The way you tried to break free was no half assed attempt either.

Sometimes you'd even throw in a few knees into it, and Tssuki didn't mind it one bit. Two dominate personalities, things were always bound to be feisty in bed.

This time however, he sensed some a defeat in your soul.

Convinced to rekindle your spirits, his brows furrowed as he lowered himself closer to your pretty face.

“Take that back.” Tssuki growled in a low, oh so sexy deepened morning voice.

“I can’t, It’s true.” You protested, sighing as he pulled himself away only to then wrap his arms around your waist and throw you over his shoulders.

Misreading the situation, you first protested before breaking into full on laughter as he stormed into the shower with you still dangling, kicking your short legs in the air.

You had thought this was playful Tssuki, the version no one was too familiar with.

Except you … and Yamaguchi. You and Yams lived to exchange Tssuki-isms.

You were mistaken when trying to approach him as he had stripped entirely. God, you so badly wanted to touch his defined chest and close the space between —and that’s when your favorite salt mine smirked as he instinctively reached back to swivel the shower handle on.

Grabbing the detachable shower heard, Tssuki sprayed you down.

"That son of a bitch." You thought, having jumped back in shock, literally. The water was so fucking cold.

Tssuki raised a brow, testing you. On one hand, he thought you looked like a helpless kitten that was abandoned on some random parking lot on a rainy day.

He was an asshole, but if he ever came across a lonely stray cat, he'd so scoop it up and take home for some warm milk.

On the other hand, he thought you looked even more hot with the way your baggy shirt now clung onto every part of your curvaceous body.

Tssuki had to exhale as he saw your nipples peaking through your smaller but perfect chest. He just wanted to cup your perky tits, squeeze them and hear you moan in delight—your hot breath on his ear as you rested a side of your face on his.

“Can’t touch me till you take that back.”

He warned as you tried to take a step forward.

“Tssu— you whined, sighing as you crossed your arms, cold.

“Admit it, you’re beautiful. Say it.” He insisted as you tossed your head back. "I’m beautiful … kinda, I mean” you trailed off, too distracted by your own cruel thoughts to notice when he raised the shower head again to spray you down.

“Ouch!” You gasped this time, burned by the super hot water. Tssuki turned, realizing that instead of increasing the water’s pressure, he had turned it to the hot side.

Steaming hot.

He rubbed them back of his neck, sheepishly trying to play off. That stupidly cool bathroom is literally what had sold him into choosing that apartment.

After a long day of training, having a large bathtub to soak in, or large walk in shower that doubled as a sauna to rest in was a treat. Not only that, but curative. You swore that this man's epsom salt baths were the reason his long limbs were always good to go, pain free.

Tssuki rushed to place the shower head back on, pushing a few buttons on the digital control panel to get some therapeutic steam going.

On a good morning, he'd already have you pinned to the wall. Your face buried into his neck as Tssuki spread your ass apart, drilling his every inch into you.

But sadly, this wasn't a good morning ... yet. When you waved a hand out in defeat, eyes swelling with tears, Kei grabbed you right before you could step away.

You slammed into his chest with a light thump as he then grabbed your shoulders to keep you balanced. "My clumsy pumpkin." He thought as you raised your head to meet his warm eyes.

Tssuki lowered his face, gently planting a kiss on your forehead. Pulling away, he grabbed your arm & extended it out as he begin to plant a trail of kisses over the burned-pink area. His kisses deepened the closer he got to your neck, stopping only when at your jawline.

Now, the two of you were staring directly at each other, his eyes radiating all the comfort you wanted to see: love, adoration, lust. It was so quiet, but your heartbeat was so damn loud.

His actions were doing all the talking. Now completely soaked, you looked down at the hem of your shirt as Tssuki grabbed both ends and begin to lift the blouse up and away from you.

Left in nothing but shorts, he kept his eyes locked on you as you nodded while he lowered himself to help you out of them.

Now, completely naked, he just stared at you in awe.

You were his goddess, and he was going to happily worship, service, respect, love.

ARIGATO GOD.

“I don’t know why you hesitate” he softly whispered as you took in a deep breath, suddenly feeling overly emotional. Near tears kind of overwhelmed.

To keep yourself from actually sobbing, you cleared your throat to speak up, “I love my job, but I guess sometimes working with so many beautiful models, I can’t help but to compare my—

Tssuki had heard enough about your delusions. His hands flew the sides of your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You felt such a thrill surging through your body as he so easily hoisted you up.

It was your favorite thing in the world, to wrap your legs around his long torso, and it was Tssuki’s favorite thing to dig his hands into your firm ass, your soft thighs.

Pulling away, he takes slow steps forward so your back gently meets the wall. With one hand, he caressed your face , thumb gliding over your cheek before connecting his forehead with yours.

“As I was saying, - I don’t know why you hesitate to say it, but I think you’re the most beautiful person in this whole goddamn world.”

A pesky tear escaped onto your cheek, and Tssuki blotted it away with a kiss, burying his face closer to yours. So close your noses are now touching.

When he wanted to, Tssuki could be so completely soft.

“You don’t know every single person in this world.”

You laughed, still touched by his bold declaration.

“I mean it. Waking up to you every morning I think wow, I’m so lucky.”

He admits as you then break into another chuckle. “You’re so full of shit, that’s not the first thing you think of.”

Tssuki pulls on your lower lip down with his thumb, chuckling back. “You idiot sandwich I didn’t say it was the first thing, but it’s a close second.”

You find yourself laughing out loud, his frisky smile fully plastered on his face as your nose scrunches in that way he finds so fucking adorable.

“Begone negativity.” He both teases and shudders at the thought of how Suga burned that in the back of his mind.

“Do I have to sing that stupid One Direction song to you?” Tssuki then jokingly added as your eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t!”

“You’re right that’s disgusting.” He scoffed, hoisting you further up as he took your breath away with another kiss, this time, his hands running through your hair.

It was always a mystery with him, never knowing if he was going to pull on your hair, or caress it.

This time however, as his tongue slipped into your mouth, eager, you couldn’t help but to squeal. You had to give it to him, the man was great at multitasking. While he deepened the kiss, Tssuki tapped the melody of that dumb song on your thighs as if drumming.

"You're insecure, don't know what for, you're turning heads when you walk through the door / don't need makeup to cover up, being the way that you are is enough --

Everyone else in the room can see it

Everyone else but you

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed

But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell

You don't know, oh, oh, you don't know you're beautiful."

Tssuki had really taken SMACK MY ASS LIKE A DRUM to a whole other level, and you couldn't even be mad about it.

"Having fun, ya happy doing that?" You teased as he now gave himself a quick rub, fully erect. Your man was so well endowed and that was both exciting and terrifying at times. While you loved dominant Tssuki, today he was a bit more mellow and less gimp man.

"Fuck, Kei-" You moaned as he slowly entered you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure just right. "I'm definitely having fun, in fact" he smirked as you moved down to slam yourself further into him, begging for more, "I'm happier than ever."

[jungwooisms]

gekokujō | k.dy | official teaser

pairing: kim doyoung x female reader members: suh youngho (johnny), lee minhyung (mark), nakamoto yuta, lee jeno, kim jungwoo, jeong jaehyun genre: historical au (early 1900’s)/historical fiction, angst, fluff warnings: smoking, language, alcohol word count: 13k/? summary: kim doyoung left his home in search of himself; yet when a collection of both familiar and unfamiliar faces surface, he finds that he may just be a a part of something much larger than he anticipated.

| this will be a part of @puppywritings’ historical collab |

[1909.04.01. Boston, MA] ‘John,

I feel enough time has adequately passed to allow me to write to you. Although, there is not much news from home to tell you of. 

The snow is fast disappearing now. I came across an article in the paper the other day about Boston and it said that 14 or 15 years ago bears used to roam around the northern end of the city, but there seems to be nothing around now except the wild fowl, and an uncountable number of deer. 

How are your hands now? I know that the winter air dries yours as it does mine. Mine are very cut, so scattered with paper trails that I fear I should bleed ink from all the books that you left me. Have you been able to acquire any more on your travels? I find that the supply you gave me is running rather low now. 

You left for Munich inquiring after Daniel Lim if I recall the name correctly, I hope you found him in good health on your arrival. I also hope he does not overwork you, you said as much happened the last you worked under him in London.

I am very pleased to say I am keeping very well, and I trust you are the same. If anything happens, know that I will gladly storm my way across the sea and give your wrongdoers what for.

I miss you, John. And I hope you return soon, you know I love to hear about your travels.’

A short chuckle to yourself as you pull the pen away from the paper after signing your name, ink stains settling into the grooves of your fingers as you aren’t cautious enough with the writing implement. Short blows over the thin paper as you try to dry the ink as quickly as possible, although this isn’t the sweltering heat of the summer you’re unsurprised the ink hasn't run but so much. Carefully standing from your seat you begin your search around the room for an envelope, fingers brushing over various stacks of papers and novellas lying around your workspace. Eventually you find a weathered, but perfectly usable one underneath a dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre. You address the letter to his newest residence, some boarding house in Germany, but you aren't sure if he was even staying there anymore. If that doesn't work out and one of your letters was stamped “Return to Sender” once more, you’d just have to wait for him to send you something first. It seemed like you were always waiting after John. Not that you mind much, you had been as thick as thieves as teenagers and that had hardly ever changed, even after he’d decided to go abroad and study, then go onto some teaching stints wherever the wind blew him.

As you return to your seat you hear a gentle meowing outside, head peering over your desk and out of the glass panes into the garden below you spot a small black and white tabby looking up at you. A sigh escaping your lips as you move to grab your pen once more, beginning to write a post scriptum,

‘p.s. Your lovely feral cat has now decided that I take ownership of her in your absence. Is there a name you prefer I call her?’

You hope he can understand your tone, it’s an issue of yours that the words you write sometimes don't hit their mark. Regardless, you’d send the letter and hear his thoughts on it whenever he has the gaul to write back. You straighten your back from your hunched position and move through the house, your fingers tracing along the smooth walls until you reach the door leading into the garden, it lay nestled in the corner of the kitchen. There’s a faint scratching as you approach, only opening it to find the same tabby waiting for you, it barrels inside once it sees an opportunity.

“You wretch,” tsking as she begins brushing up against your leg. “What am I going to do with you?”

[1909.04.30. 今出川, 京都] The ground crunches underfoot as Doyoung walks; the pavement, covered with a thin layer of grit from a small windstorm that had picked up an hour or so prior, feeling as if it’s shifting as his leather soled shoes move over it. Storm having left its mark and not going to disappear until a rain shower decides to wash it away, he breathes in the particles still floating through the balmy weather. A small frown as he fans his jacket, allowing some air to circulate under the thick fabric. Had it not been impolite, he would have shed the garment as soon as he stepped out of the train station only minutes ago. His hand still wrapped around his bag he looks to the signs adorning the tops of businesses along the road. Doyoung was never great at learning hanja, so when it came time for him to begin learning the already different kanji and further hiragana and katakana that would come along with his trip abroad, he thought he might set out to find a tutor during his time here. Hand moving to rummage around the inside of his jacket, he procures a worn letter from its depths. ‘今出川 居酒屋,’ it is the only thing foreign to him within the contents of the scripture, the sender had asked to meet him there for lunch on the second day of Doyoung’s arrival to Kyoto.

Doyoung finds the bar after walking a few more blocks, north from the station and hidden away behind a bookstore in a back alley. Before he enters, he pauses. His grip on the letter tightening, the parchment creasing from the increased pressure as the slight tingly pervasiveness of guilt begins to wrack him from the inside out. A look to his left, and then to his right, a ghost of a figure in his peripheral, deterring him from running from the drinkery. It drives him closer, away from an inevitable future and towards the uncertain present. 

A haze of smoke blankets the air as he enters, that of tobacco intermingling with the small fire stoking in the back of the bar. It invades his nose rather viciously, itching the back of his throat and causing tears to form in the corners of his eyes as he greets the hostess with a small ‘Hello’ and ‘A table, please.’ She guides him and he settles down at a chabudai towards the front of the building, almost with enough of a view so that he can peer past the two small curtains at the entrance and into the street.

The letter now resting atop the table and his bag by its side, he reaches into his jacket yet again to procure an almost empty pack of cigarettes and a newly bought lighter. He had run out of fluid during his journey across the sea and he thought that buying a new one would be a novel idea to commemorate his trip. Doyoung’s eyes wander around the enclosed space as he scans the faces of the patrons. Most were men but there was the occasional woman mingling among the crowd as well. Cigarette placed on his lips, lighter spewing to life and igniting the end as he takes a deep breath in. Doyoung hates smoking, hates the way it pierces his lungs with its inky black vapors. It leaves his breath smelling awful, but it is just something people do to pass the time. Fingers finding the cigarette, he removes it for a moment, tapping it against a small silver dish atop the table, the ashes pooling at the bottom as he continues to look for someone he hasn’t met yet.

“Did you want to order anything else?” A voice to his right calls out, he jumps slightly before turning, only to find the kimono clad waitress at his side. She sets down a tray of dishes, some foods he recognizes, and some he thinks to be the local cuisine.

“Oh, no thank you.” As his eyes look over the food he moves to rest his cigarette in the ashtray to come back for later.

The woman gives a short smile and brief nod before speaking again, “Please let me know if you need anything.” Even after she had walked away, Doyoung could feel her eyes lingering on him like a child seeing some sort of marvel for the first time. This is not to say that he thinks that highly of himself, just that he knows that he is an outsider in a foreign place, his accent could tell anyone as much.

“I think she likes you.” A voice speaking up when Doyoung goes to take a bite out of the onigiri on his tray.

Mouth half full and brow furrowed in confusion, Doyoung turns to face wherever the voice had come from, “What did you say?” Chewing his food and swallowing rather harshly, he almost chokes as he thinks he’s going insane after hearing what sounded like Korean. This time it was a man who spoke, he was sitting at another table across from him, a shifty grin on his face. Something about him seemed different from everyone else in the bar, but the man couldn’t quite put a finger on it in this dimly lit room.

“She’s still staring at you.” The other man answers, now standing up and proceeding to walk over to him. “But it’s not like she’s hearing me say that anyway,” He laughs, brushing his hands against the lapels of his jacket.

Now in a better light, the man can get a better view of this stranger. “Are you Korean too?” He asks in his native tongue, feeling much more relieved that the burden of speaking a different language is momentarily sated.

“No,” Another laugh as the man settles down in the seat adjacent. “Just familiar with the language, is all.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes staring into Doyoung’s as if he’s trying to memorize his facial features. “You wouldn’t happen to be Kim Dongyoung, would you?”

“Doyoung, actually.” He clears his throat. “I am,” Eyes glancing at the letter still atop the table, Doyoung comes to a realization, “Are you Nakamoto Yuta?”

“I am,” A smile as he extends his hand. Less practiced with western formality Doyoung looks at the greeting for a moment before raising his own to formally address him, “It’s nice to meet you.” After a moment they drop their hands away from each other, Yuta’s gaze shifting to watch the hostess move his food from his old table to the one he now shares with Doyoung. “With an accent like that you must be from the south, Daegu, maybe?”

“Guri, actually.” He returns to his food for a moment, Yuta taking this time to also take a few bites from his own bento. “Where did you learn Korean?”

“Did Youngho not tell you?” Youngho is their mutual friend, he’d given Doyoung Yuta’s contact information to inquire if he had any availability to tutor him. “I studied with him when we were in college, I moved back here a year after we graduated, my mother fell ill and wanted to come back from living in Hanseong.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Doyoung frowns, shifting as he sets his chopsticks down. The two must have met after Doyoung had left his schooling to return to his family, per their wishes. 

A smile, “She made a perfect recovery, but now that she’s home she never wants to leave again.” Yuta reaches for the porcelain flask of sake the hostess had brought over, pouring himself a small glass then offering one to Doyoung. The younger politely refuses, still not accustomed to the savoriness of the drink, as Yuta nods and knocks back his own cup before speaking again. “When can you start classes? We typically meet for an hour or two every day if we can.”

“We?” Doyoung’s caught up on the word, he thought these would be private lessons, not an actual class. He leans forward, somewhat anxious at the thought of his abysmal language skills to be put on show for more than one audience member.

“Just a handful of other students from all over the place,” Shoulders shrugging Yuta leans backwards, hands placed atop his knees as he stretches his back. “We have a few Korean and Chinese kids, even a Canadian student as well. Not everyone’s at the same level so you shouldn’t worry too much about it.” He smiles, toothy and carefree as if there wasn’t an unhappy thought that had ever crossed him, Doyoung somewhat resents the uncertain assumption he made. “The schoolhouse isn’t too far away from here actually; did you want to stop by?” Hand motioning towards the doorway, Yuta’s head tilts inquisitively.

“I actually have to check in at the hotel I’m staying in, my parents told me to write whenever I got here and I’ve been putting that off for a while,” A sigh escaping him. Doyoung had been thinking about what to pen for the past day and a half but couldn’t muster the strength to go through with it. He’d left on rocky terms and was expecting to be hounded whenever they responded. ��I’ll stop by tomorrow when you have class if that’s alright?”

“Fine by me,” He’s now searching his own pockets, finding a pen and reaching out for the letter near Doyoung. Yuta scribbles down something, a few kanji that Doyoung can’t decipher, and hands him the paper back, “Classes start at ten, when you’re in the area just ask someone if they know where this is and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” Doyoung looks down to the paper, seeing in his periphery that Yuta was already on his feet, straightening his jacket as he begins to head over to the waitress.

Doyoung sees him say something but can’t make out what, it’s only when Yuta turns to him and speaks that he can ascertain the meaning, “Don’t worry about paying this time, you’ll have to treat me to lunch some other day.” And with that Doyoung finds himself alone once more in the tavern.

 [1909.04.30. Boston, MA] The letter had arrived early in the morning, but you had been out in town with your mother attending some group function that you didn't want to be a part of in the first place. So, when you walk into your own little study and see it lying atop your things you race over and tear open the seal adorning it.

‘When I arrived in Munich, my work left me so urgent that I could not write in time before I left again. I thus deferred it to a point where I once again found myself with solid footing. It rains heavily in Seoul today, my travels have taken me here instead of crossing the Atlantic.

Currently I am holding a tutoring position for the American consulate’s son. I expect to hold this position for some time before I return home to Boston. 

Tell my mother not to fuss over me too much, if anything I implore her to look after you. Of all people, other than your own family, she knows of the antics you pursue.

I was able to sneak out a few books from Munich, upon my return I swear to you that you will have the greatest library in all America- no, the world, even.

If I were a better artist, or wealthy enough to photograph, I would show you how beautiful my journey across the world has been. Although, so much has changed in Seoul since I held my studies here. I cannot help but have the inklings of melancholy eat away as I recall the memories and compare them to what I see now. This will come to pass, I hope. 

I hear the boy calling for me now— My writing will have to cease here, I fear. Send my affection to your family, I know they miss me as much as you do.

With all the love I can muster,

x John

p.s. I think I have decided to call her Minnie, please refer to her as that accordingly.’

While scattered with his familiarities and humor, the letter seems all too short, all too hurried. Your lips purse as you read over it, brow furrowing as a small knot in your stomach begins to form. Thumb rubbing over the x marking his name the worry only grows ever more prevalent, you pull your eyes away from the words and begin to rummage around for your own writing implements and paper, wanting to respond to him as quickly as possible.

‘John,

Your letter left much to be desired. Seoul? Your mother anxiously awaits your return any day now, before you left you said you would only be gone until early May at most. I hope that nothing unsavory has happened, God knows you find yourself in trouble more than any other man I know. 

Please let her know that you are safe, I fear that she may follow after you should you be gone any longer. A son should never burden his mother with his absence for an extended period, I can only keep her company for so long before her weariness sets in and she longs to see you. 

She also knitted you a pair of gloves, seeing as you left your moth-eaten ones behind. I know the air is growing warmer, but it is somewhat endearing to see how doting she is over you. Please, ease her mind by writing.’

[1909.04.30.-1909.04.31.  今出川ホテル, 京都] Doyoung eventually finds himself standing at the small entrance of a hotel, the name written in cursive English on a wooden sign above the doorway. Youngho had recommended the inn, saying that it would be one of the more accepting places to stay at as a foreigner. It has a somewhat Victorian looking façade, contrasting the traditional Japanese styled buildings around it, he wonders why that is as he ascends the handful of steps to the door, struggling ever so slightly while lugging his bag behind him. As the door swings open, he’s greeted by an elderly woman with a rather round face, “Good evening,” she smiles and ushers him inside. “Did you need a room for the night? Or do you have a reservation?”

Mind fogging as he struggles to keep up, “Apologies, my Japanese isn’t—” The stone floor clicking underfoot as he follows her to the main desk.

“Ah, Korean?” It’s accented, but he appreciates it nonetheless. “Do you have a reservation?” Her hands dance along a worn leather book atop the desk, flipping it open as she looks down a list of names, some of those which are crossed out and some of which are not.

“I do,” He nods his head with a short smile, “It should be under Kim.”

Humming as she runs her finger down the list, as her head turns upward it causes Doyoung to return his attention to her, “Kim Heesung or Kim Doyoung?”

“Doyoung,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot, mentally hitting himself as he should’ve been more specific. Eyes scanning the list, Doyoung takes a short look around the interior of the inn.The space is smaller than he imagined, but rather cozy. A glowing fire going to warm the chill of the night, large armchairs beside it and the largest bookshelf he’s ever seen built around the hearth.

“Wonderful,” She smiles, turning her back to him to find his room key from a small drawer behind the desk. Before she faces him again fully, she shifts through a small stack of papers atop the desk, “This also came for you,” The woman reaches to pull out a thin card from the stack, it has both hangul and kanji printed on it so it was easy to assume it’d come from his homeland.

“Thank you,” He smiles back before taking the telegram and tucking it into his jacket pocket. She hands him the key and he’s off to find his hotel room. It lays up the staircase and down a winding corridor, as he passes by some of the rooms, he can hear the muffled voices of a few of the other patrons, speaking languages he can mildly understand and others that sound alien. Once he finds his room, he’s all too giddy to throw himself onto the bed. Door locked, shoes and suitcase strewn aside he falls onto the plush bed, his eyes watching the ceiling as the weight of sleep begins to take over his vision.

Broken sunlight filters into the room, the shades drawn enough only to allow sharp slants of light to come through. The city outside is bustling whereas the hotel room seems almost vacant of any form of noise, save for the sound of soft breathing as the occupant sleeps. Kim Doyoung continues to snore  softly, dreaming of something sweet enough to add a slight curvature to his lips. He rolls in his slumber, the telegram received in the night folding under his weight, unbeknownst to him.

Three swift knocks awake him from the depths of slumber. He bolts up, raising a hand to run through his hair as a frown of confusing forms on his lips, wiping away whatever essence of his dream remained. “Are you awake?” A voice rings out seconds after the rapping. It’s the woman from the night before, Doyoung was too tired to connect the dots quite yet.

“Yes,” He responds groggily, moving to allocate his footing onto the floor. He hears soft footsteps leading away from his door, he supposes his wakeup call is completed. Rummaging around his wrinkled jacket-pocket he pulls out his timepiece, the clock reveals that it is seven forty-five in the morning, he has two hours before his lessons begin. Letting out a soft groan, he places the watch away and pushes himself onto his feet. His knees creaking and cracking as he rises and stretches out his arms, signaling that his sleep must’ve been docile. Once again, his hand moves to his jacket as he recalls the telegram, now crumpled in the crevasses of his pocket. Doyoung pulls out the letter, walking to draw open the shades to allow more reading light in.

“Kim Dongyoung,” He mumbles out, reading over the first, short line as the sleep is rubbed from his eyes. ‘Mom and Dad are going to kill you if you continue to ignore them. For my sake, please write. - Donyun’

An audible scoff after he’s finished reading, he can almost hear his brother’s tone. Doyoung does care about his family, but his brother is as much on his parents’ side as he is against it, it is a giant rift in their already teetering relationship.

The telegram tossed onto the bed as Doyoung takes off his jacket, he’d been avoiding his familial issues for a while now and it seems as if they’re coming back to bite him in the ass. It wasn’t entirely his fault for doing so, his father was never a good listener and Doyoung’s ideas were always pushed asunder.

A few moments later he finds himself in a fresh set of clothes, ready to face the day. In truth, he is dreading his lessons but at least it will provide some relief from thinking about the drama happening back in Guri. His shoes drag along the wooden floor as he steps out of his room, locking it with the small gilded key behind him. Once in the hallway, his posture straightens as he begins to make his way towards the staircase that would lead him into the main lobby. The crushed emerald green velvet railing runs under his fingers as he descends, swiftly moving into his pockets once his feet land on the granite tiles splaying out an ocean of deep gray below him.

A thin beam of light shines in through the slit in the door of the entranceway, the windows attached to the door are covered in the same crushed velvet encasing the staircase via curtain. It feels like he is in a black hole with how dimly lit the interior of the building is. Eventually he makes his way through the lobby, past the plumes of smoke belonging to the lackadaisical men resting in overly decadent armchairs smoking out of their kiserus.

Doyoung shuffles his way to the front desk, a younger woman manning it instead of the elderly woman from the night prior. “Can I help you?” Voice sullen sounding, or maybe tired, Doyoung still isn’t awake enough yet to dissect it fully. 

Reaching into his pocket, pulling out the letter from Yuta with the name of the school, “I’m looking for this?”

The girl leans over the desk, it’s easy to tell the yukata she wears is inhibiting her from her full range of motion. Eyes reading the characters carefully, “Whoever wrote this has awful handwriting,” She mutters under her breath and Doyoung can’t understand it entirely. “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk that way,” Hand raising to motion southward, “When you see the sweets shop you should turn right, and it will be a few buildings down on your right.”

A nod of his head as he thinks he caught most of her instruction. He takes the paper back and tucks it away, thanking her as he makes for the door. The heat greets him with a gentle breeze, an inkling of warmth as to what’s in store for later in the day. Doyoung looks to the sky, to see where the sun is positioned so he is able to gauge the direction he was supposed to go. He sets off, pace not brisk or lax, merely at a stride to absorb what’s around him. It’s still early in the morning, plenty of time before the school day begins to wander the streets for a bit.

The street’s crowded, thinning in places where it seems more residential than not, it reminds him of home. Different feel, different language but it has a strange nostalgic aura about it. A sweetness hitting his nose as he approaches a small wooden building, he can’t read what it is but by the smells emanating from it he supposes that it’s the sweet shop the girl at the hotel had told him to turn at. Head tilting to peer down the street, it looks like nothing of note. As he stands there, presumably looking more confused than the average local, he feels a finger gently tap on his shoulder, “Are you lost?”

The voice comes as a surprise, turning Doyoung on his heels to come face to face with a stranger. Eyes wide as he looks the boy over, “A little bit... I’m looking for,” reaching into his pockets as the other stops him.

“Are you Kim Doyoung?” It seems as if everyone here knew of him before he could introduce himself. Before he can speak, a nod of affirmation rattles through him and the other smiles, “Yuta said that we’d be getting a new student in today.” Hand outstretching, Doyoung’s a little more practiced with the greeting now, “My name’s Lee Minhyung, I can show you the way to the school if you want?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” He gives a brief smile before another nod of his head, “I’d really appreciate it.”

[1909.05.05. San Francisco, CA] If anything were to be your downfall, it would be that of your impatience. You’d been sitting down with John’s mother, a woman you likened to your own family when the one back home was too involved in her own business, when the news broke. She was kind, offered you tea and as always had the little tin of biscuits you loved when you were a child sitting atop the tea tray, and then graciously divulged to you that her son was currently under police custody in Tokyo when the last you’d heard he’d been in Seoul. It would explain the absence of letters, or inability to write. Upon questioning her further you realize that maybe he was in far greater a circumstance than he left you off thinking.

It isn’t a matter of asking your parents to ship you off to a foreign land, it’s a matter of when and how soon you can leave. The money sitting in the dank vault of your late grandmother’s account had laid in wait for some sort of use, and she had wanted you to use it to fulfill some sort of errant dream of yours after her passing. You couldn’t find it within yourself to touch it, seeing it as too prized and too treasured a thing to take away from for some frivolous means. But your grandmother had liked John, the late one on your father’s side and not the vile one from your mother’s. She had treated him kindly whenever he had stopped by, sometimes even saying that she had wished him her grandson more than the monsters that were your cousins. You think that is reason enough to pull from your funds and splurge on a rescue mission to Japan. There were several people you’d known that had been there before, detailing it as a curious place but had neglected to tell you why; you don’t think of the language or cultural barriers separating you until you’re standing on a pier in San Francisco, waiting for your ship to dock.

The brine of the sea had never settled well in your stomach, salty on your lips and your cheeks as the coastal winds torrent towards you. Your ship doesn’t leave for a while yet but the queasiness felt on the decks of other ships returns to the pit of your stomach with a ghostlike vengeance. Perhaps it is anxiousness that riddles you instead of the fear of the sea.

 “Im-a-de-ga-wa Gai-ko-ku-jin Ni-hon-go Ga-kko” words falling from your lips in strange and oblong vowels and consonants that were almost completely incorrect. John had mentioned it in the letter to his mother, detailing that should she not hear from him for another month to contact the school and ask for the aid of a Mr. Yuta Nakamoto, a friend that he’d talked about in passing a few times. Apparently, he is a persuasive sort that would most definitely help him out should the occasion arise. Or so John had put it, you aren't really sure what to think of him.

John’s mother had insisted that it had been a mix up at customs but a bitter taste in your mouth and gut wrenching feeling in your stomach told you otherwise. He was a rebellious spirit and had probably said a few choice words that had gotten him in trouble, he had said his Japanese wasn’t great but he had learned a handful of colorful phrases from the aforementioned friend in University that could definitely be taken the wrong way by unknowing ears.

If the seas were steady and your luck good, maybe you can reach him within a month. If not, a week or so longer but you’re not sure if the anticipation of it all would let you, you might jump ship and hope to swim there faster should such a situation arise. Again, impatience being your downfall you can barely stand just watching the large metal steamship land at port and empty its passengers before you were to board.

The air is salty, the gentle spray of foam from the shore landing on your cheeks carefully as you look towards the ship that is to be your dwelling for the next portion of your life. Maybe you shouldn’t have come alone, taken a chaperone or a friend with you, but you were worried, too crunched for time to even entertain the thought as you packed your bags and told your mother you were taking the first train out of town. Your face still stings with the remembrance of the slap she’d given you in her frenzy, calling you something along the lines of a girl too thoughtless to know her role. By no means a heartfelt way to leave her, but your father had said to go, knowing a little more than your mother how much John means to you.

Your bags, brown leather and worn from the days when your father was still youthful enough to travel, lay at your feet as the thin paper ticket folds under your grasp. The chatter from the crowds around you mixing in with shouts of vendors and merchants lining the docks over the squalls of seagulls overhead. It’s all too much when your mind is racing with concern, not too much though to deter you from a gentle tapping on your shoulder.

“I think you dropped this?” Deep voice causing you to turn on your heels and face the perpetrator. When you do, you’re greeted with your passport being held out to you and a dimpled smile to go along with a rather dashing face.

“Oh,” Eyebrows raised as you reach out to gingerly take your own booklet from the other, you hadn’t realized its absence since you had thought it stowed away in the depths of your handbag. “Thank you—?” A pause as you wait for an introduction.

“Jaehyun, or Jeffery, whichever is easiest for you,” he nods and then you offer your name before he speaks again. “It was really no problem,” he continues with a smile as he looks down to the bags at your feet, “Did you just get back or are you going somewhere?”

The innate curiosity of the stranger mildly perplexing, “I’m off to Tokyo.”

“Tokyo,” his tone faltering as his hand drops down to his side after you begin stowing the passport back away in the small purse slung over your shoulder. “What business is taking you there?”

You pause as you think, it isn’t exactly family troubles or business matters that are taking you across the Pacific, stubbornness, and inability to take your friend for everything he said, more like it. “A friend settled there a little while ago,” a nod after a moment of silence, “it seems that he has gotten himself into a little trouble so I am going to make sure everything is alright.” Absentmindedly patting the bag as you can see the other mull it over in his head, “What about you? Are you heading in or out?”

“Out,” The answer is almost immediate, a shift on his feet as he straightens his posture. “I’m heading to Korea; I haven’t seen my family in almost seven years.”

“Seven years?” The most John had been gone was the three years he spent studying abroad; you can’t imagine someone gone from your life for that amount of time. “What were you here for?”

“I was staying with a group of missionaries as I went through college,” Hands in his pockets as he turns to the blue horizon overlooking the ocean you were both meant to traverse, “Now that I’ve graduated there’s nothing keeping me here.”

“What will you do when you’re-” you begin to speak when a loud whistle blares from the port your ship had saddled up to. Growing quiet as you begin to hear the general buzz of the people around you grow as they begin to shuffle towards the bridge that linked the port to the steamship. “I guess it’s time,” Reaching to pick up your bags, the leather against your palm somewhat soothing your nerves, “are you boarding too?”

A shake of his head, “My ship doesn’t leave until the afternoon.”

“Ah,” the sound leaving your lips as the thought of, perhaps, having someone to accompany you on your journey was swiftly diminished. “Well,” A small smile gracing your lips, “It was nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” smile returning, “Safe travels.”

“And to you,” You nod as you begin to walk towards the front port, looking down to your hand to make sure that your ticket is still in hand.

[1909.05.16. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都] “It’s not kūremashita it’s agemashita.” writing on a chalkboard, the dust from the small white stick clinging to the ends of Yuta’s jacket as he scrawls out the hiragana. “Unless you’re thankful that Doyoung’s parents give him money?” A smattering of laughter echoing the room as he tries to teach the handful of students how to show appreciativeness and the reporting of it to others. “Try one more time.” Doyoung sits back in his chair and looks at a pink-cheeked Jungwoo who leans over his notes in an attempt to reconcile his verbal mistake.

There’s another try from the dark-haired man, it sounds good enough to Doyoung but apparently, the structure of the sentence needs more tweaking, as seen by Yuta giving out a small sigh before walking to Jungwoo’s side. Doyoung takes this time to look around the small, confined classroom. It was in no means shabby, but one could tell this building wasn’t meant to be a school, Doyoung thinks Yuta told him that it had been some sort of distillery prior to the deed falling into his hands.

From eleven in the morning, when the sun slants in through the two glass windows of the classroom just enough to see the dust flying through the air, to noon is when Yuta teaches the native Korean speakers basic Japanese grammar and vocabulary. It’s only a handful of students; Minhyung, whom Doyoung had met on his first day, Jungwoo, who is somewhat timid but roaringly confident at times, Jeno, a kid on some sort of exchange trip who hopes to build up his language skills before his university classes start in the fall, and of course, Doyoung himself. It is an intimate learning experience, perhaps that’s why Doyoung now feels miles more confident in his speaking ability now than he did a month prior. Hell, he could now converse freely, albeit somewhat confined in his topics, to the front desk woman at the hotel he still resided at.

There’s a knock at the classroom door, pulling the attention from the room’s occupants away from their work and now to the dark wooden door that leads out into the small foyer where the next group of students is presumably waiting for their lecture. “The next class doesn’t start until noon,” Yuta looks to the clock placed atop his desk, “You’ve got five minutes.”

The door opens with a small creak, shadows from the entranceway spilling in as Doyoung catches a familiar face standing there to greet the class. “I was actually hoping to sit in?” A voice Doyoung hadn’t heard since his university days accompanied the creak of floorboards underfoot as Youngho strides into the room. “I think my Japanese is a little rusty.”

A small laugh from Yuta as he recognizes his friend, “There’s the jailrat.” Yuta returns to the front of the room to stand in front of the taller, no doubt feeling the confused gazes of the students behind him staring past him and to the stranger. “I’m surprised they let you out that early.”

“You know I’m persuasive,” Smile lingering on his lips as his head turns and he catches sight of Doyoung looking at him quizzically. He is still caught up on the word jailrat and the connotation behind it, when had Youngho been incarcerated?  

“Well,” Yuta turns on his heels to address the class, “Why don’t we end early today?”

Minhyung’s already leaned over his desk to get Jeno’s attention, Doyoung thinks he hears him say something about grabbing lunch at the nearby market, but his interest is far too deterred to be paying full attention to the younger men. The class packs their bags, Doyoung taking the longest time of all as he tucks away his books into his makeshift bag. In all earnest it was a bag he’d borrowed from the reception at the hotel, he’d neglected to bring or buy a suitable bag for school when he left home and arrived in Japan. The worn canvas of the thing almost wearing through at the bottom, he slings it over his shoulder and makes his way towards Youngho and Yuta, who look to be in deep conversation.

Youngho spots Doyoung approaching in his periphery, turning to greet him with a jovial smile. “I see you made it here in one piece?” His eyes looked tired, his face gaunter than the last time he’d seen his elder, but he wasn’t going to question, it was neither the time nor the place.

“Mostly,” Doyoung replies, “Yuta’s been a great teacher.”

“Thanks for the ego boost,” Yuta’s fingers dance on the lapels of his jacket in mock vanity, only then moving into his jacket pocket for a lighter and his infamous pack of Chūyū cigarettes. He offers one to Youngho and then to Doyoung, to which they accept, pulling their own lighters out of their pockets and lighting the butts of the sticks.

“God, these are shit,” a grit through Youngho’s teeth after he pulls in a drag. “They confiscated my Lucky Strike back in Tokyo.” Doyoung’s brow furrows as the other begins to speak again, “Let me know when you’ve got a free night. I’d love to grab dinner and catch up; it’s been a while.”

“I should have time this Saturday?” Doyoung thinks of his schedule, it’s not that he had massive time commitments here, but he was making a point to travel around the city in his free time. “If that works for you, of course.”

“It sounds doable,” A nod as Youngho moves his hand to tap his cigarette against an ashtray atop Yuta’s desk, the wood around the tray stained with the ashes of past smoking ventures. “Are you still staying at that hotel I told you about?”

Doyoung shifts on his feet, “I am, are you staying there too?”

“Yuta has offered me residence in his home until he is sick of me,” Youngho nods to the aforementioned, “I can meet you in the lobby around five then?”

“Sounds good,” Doyoung agrees, looking at the clock hanging on the wall, “I think Jungwoo wanted to go over the homework together so I should go and help him out.” It’s something of an excuse but Doyoung could feel as if there was some sort of pregnant secret looming over the heads of the other two.

“Would you mind sending Sicheng and the others in?” Yuta asks as Doyoung snubs out his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way to the door.

Metal knob in hand, Doyoung turns and gives him a brief nod, “Of course.”

There’s something that doesn't sit right with Doyoung. Youngho had noted that he’d planned on staying in Hanseong for a while in the letter he’d sent to Doyoung a few weeks ago. It’s not as if plans can’t change or anything of the sort, yet he’d seemed vehement about it, detailing something about a someone he was going to visit before heading home to America. He isn’t one to question where questions aren’t due, if his friend was to stay in Kyoto for the time being, he’d be nothing more than appreciative of having a familiar face around.

[1909.05.18. 今出川ホテル、京都] When Doyoung ascends the staircase, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, he can immediately tell that Youngho sits in one of the large armchairs by the hotel’s unused fireplace in the lobby. Although his face is obscured by the wings, with the way his hand taps in rhythm with the song wafting through the air, the excitedness of the movements are a telling sign that it is his friend. 

A glance to the victrola that lies in the corner of the room, the audio scratchy and soft as it emits a tune that Doyoung does not know. He strides over to the plush chair, glancing down to its occupant before speaking. 

“Good afternoon,” the words escape him and Youngho turns to him with a jump and widened eyes before he realizes who it is. 

“Dongyoung!” Youngho smiles from the armchair, rising to his feet to greet the other with a quick embrace, “Long time no see.”

“Actually I go by Doyoung now,” he nods awkwardly as Youngho steps back from him, his hand rising to scratch the back of his head, “helps me forget myself for a bit.”

“Still having family issues?” Youngho’s brow furrows as they break their embrace, “I thought you wrote that you had sorted that mess out?”

“More or less,” another awkward smile, “But enough about me— I thought you were supposed to be in Hanseong?”

“Change of plans, there was someone I was meant to meet in Tokyo, but they left during the time while I was imprisoned.”

“Yuta mentioned something like that when you first came in, what happened?” Youngho’s holds out his hand, motioning to the door, as Doyoung questions. The latter begins to walk forward, towards the entrance of the hotel as his friend trails behind him, “Were you really taken into custody?”

“They thought I had ties with Homer Hulbert,” A laugh as the two make their way out the front door, trapezing down the steps and onto the sidewalk, “Which is correct, but they had no grounds to imprison me on the idea that I know him alone or had one of his books in my possession.”

“Hulbert— is he the one that—?” 

“The very same,” he nods, “But that is more than contrived at this point, let me know how you are. It sounds like things are the same with your family the last I saw you.”

“If things were okay then I would have stayed home,” A huff of heated breath leaving him in something of a passive laugh. “My father is still trying to set me up with that girl, the past runs deep, I suppose.”

“I cannot agree with you more,” Youngho agrees with a nod, “Have you even met her yet?”

“The last time I saw Seungwon was when I was thirteen, even if I saw her I cannot say I could point her out in a crowd if you asked me to.” Doyoung's hands find purchase in his pocket, hidden away from the sunlight that falls onto his head and burns the back of his neck as Youngho and he walk further down the street, through the masses of people.

The older nods solemnly, almost as if he understands the situation, "I have a friend who's nearly in a similar situation as you. Although her parents haven't found her a match or approved of anyone she's liked, I'd say her feelings mirror your own."

"Is that right?" Doyoung questions rhetorically as Youngho digs through his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes, "Is that the girl who you spoke so much about during our classes together?"

Youngho sputters, his hands failing to ignite his lighter at Doyoung's words, a cigarette dangling from his lips, "Did I really talk about her that much?"

"So much so I feel like I know her," Doyoung smiles and shakes his head, a familiar pang hitting his stomach once he looks back to the street before them. "Do you want to grab something to eat? I don't think I've eaten since lunchtime yesterday."

"Too busy studying?"

"Something like that..." In actuality, he'd received yet another telegram, this time from his mother, scolding him for staying away again.

"You always were more studious than me," the other nods and looks to a small restaurant they begin to pass on their left before stopping in his tracks, "What about this place?"

"Soba?" The intensity of the sun once again baring down above him as he looks to the sign on the door, he nods quickly, "Sounds great."

The pair make their way inside, settling down at a small table in the back corner of the shop as they wait for their food to arrive. Doyoung moves his hand to unbutton a few fastens from the front of his jacket to allow some of the shop's cooler air to hit him. His hands then move to rest atop the table, his long and slender fingers tapping as Youngho smokes the last of his cigarette, snubbing it out on the ashtray settled at the end of the table.

"How's your family doing? Is your father's business going well? I saw a few copies when I was in Hanseong.” Lackadaisical in question, Doyoung can hear something edging behind his friend’s tone that tinges upon suspicion. 

“It’s going well,” a silent nod as a server comes to their table, the two order quickly, leaving little room for questions before Doyoung asks, “What about your family?”

“Willfully ignorant as ever,” Youngho frowns, shifting in his seat. It looks as if bitter words reside on his tongue but he swallows them down with a redemption of a smile. 

“About what?” Doyoung pauses as he reaches for the pot of tea the server had brought on her arrival, his hand hovering over the handle. 

“Everything.” Youngho’s shoulders shrug as Doyoung eventually pours himself and his friend a cup of tea. “Korean politics, American politics, hell- even the politics of their own inner circle. I refuse to believe they aren’t intelligent, they refuse to accept anything that isn’t affecting them personally.” 

“I see…” He winds off his acknowledgement with the abating of his words, woefully aware that his parents are of the same mindset. His own father being the worst of all of them, claiming that any interaction or deals with unsavory business men were for the benefit of the family, not to the detriment. 

“My father’s own brother died in ‘07 and he seemed unfazed by it at all,” Youngho huffs out, “At the hands of the Imperial Army, and yet, still, he said nothing.” 

Doyoung’s eyes widen and he raises a finger to his lips as if to tell the older to lower his voice, unknowing if anyone within the shop understands Korean. “Even if he did, there would be nothing your father could have done about it. Not only is he in America, he holds no authority in Joseon.” 

“No one wanting to do a damn holds any authority in Joseon anymore, you know better than me what the yangban have gone through, what everyone’s gone through.” Youngho leans in closer to Doyoung, ceding as he lowers his tone, “It may be easier said than done but I believe we have the ability to change that.” 

“How would-” Doyoung begins but is interrupted when the server comes back with their food, carefully setting each dish atop the table before retreating back into the depths of the kitchen. “How could ‘we’ possibly do that?” 

“There are ways, I know there are. I just need time to think of a proper solution,” Youngho nods as he reaches for his chopsticks, eager to sate his own hunger that had risen during their conversation. “If you’re interested I’ll tell you more when I have an idea.”

[1909.05.27. 今出川外国人日本語学校、京都] Doyoung’s mind doesn't return to that conversation with Youngho until a Wednesday afternoon about a week later. The sun begins to sink down in the sky as Youngho, Minhyung and himself were cleaning off some blackboard tablets in the main room of the school. Yuta was busy teaching a class and Doyoung’s fingers were pruned from what felt like endless scrubbing with a rag and vinegar ridden water.

“You know,” Youngho speaks up after what feels like an eternity of silence, brushing his hands on his pants after setting down a board onto the floor below. “I think we can really change something here.” His shoes quickly tapping on the floor in some sort of anxious apprehension, “Yuta and I have been talking and the resistance effort in Korea seems to be strengthening again.”

“What are you implying?” Doyoung asks, confused at the sudden statement. His brow wet with perspiration, even having the windows cracked open doesn't allow for much wind to travel throughout the building.

“I am saying that we can try and do something to change the… trouble happening back home,” Youngho shows no anger but a passion resides in his voice that remains hard to mask. “Do something before something more is done to us.”

“That is…” Minhyung begins, looking up to Youngho from his task of drying off the boards.

“Idealistic?” Doyoung interjects, biting his lower lip before continuing, “Youngho you do realize if someone hears you talking about that you’ll get thrown in prison again?”

Eyes trailing around the space as if he hadn’t already known they were alone, “Every one of us are sitting ducks. You know that,” a point to Minhyung and then a point to Doyoung, “and you know that. Is fighting back against that such a bad thing?”

“How do you propose we do that? Drop everything now, hop on a ship back to Korea and just roam the countryside looking for this supposed group?” Blood rushing to his ears as it sounds like waves crashing on a beach’s shore. 

“Not at all,” A shake of his head. “There are ways of resisting that do not rely on fighting, think peaceful, diplomatic.”

A nervous laugh escapes Doyoung, it’s involuntary but he can’t help it. “Suh Youngho I knew you were insane, but this is another level.”

“I— uh— I’m going to get some chalk refills from the storage room,” Minhyung excuses himself from the conversation, a glance at him as he walks away tells Doyoung that he doesn’t know how to interact with the situation and was looking for an easy escape.

“Doyoung if you would just listen to me and get that stupid doubt out of your head you might just be able to make some sense of it all.” A sigh from Youngho as he stands, reaching into his jacket to rummage around for a pack of cigarettes. “Can I bum one off of you?”

Cheek bitten as he grabs his pack out of his pocket and tosses it to the other, “Do you have any idea what they would do to my family if they knew we were having this conversation? Your family and Minhyung’s are across the world and have no worries about what they say or do. The other student’s and mine are not privileged with that.” Cigarette carton tossed back, the sound of a lighter igniting and the smell of smoke pervading through the air as he tucks the pack away into his pocket.

Youngho thinks, an exhalation of smoke through troubled lungs as his outward breath intermingles with the dust thick in the air. It dissipates without a sound, quietly invading the space as Doyoung is overcome with a sense of trepidation from the other, he picks his words meticulously, trying to string them together as carefully as possible, “This is not just about you or me or my family or yours. It is the fate of a nation on the line, is that so hard to understand?”

It causes the younger pause for a moment, his hand falling to his pocket, hovering there before he pulls on the fabric as if he’d meant to straighten the coat all along. His throat clears, thinking of his parents and brother he’d left behind in Guri, what any actions that Youngho’s ideals cause may entail for them. Even if he was trying to get away from his obligations back home, he’d never want to intentionally put them in any sort of danger. 

Doyoung opens his mouth to speak, before catching a bright glimpse of color passing by one of the front windows, followed by the school door opening with a large slam against the wall. Silhouette standing in the setting sun for a moment, not looking at all familiar to Doyoung. An equally confusing circumstance when the words, “John Suh,” spill from your lips.  It’s a confounded expression that crosses your face, standing in the front door of the school as the taller leans leisurely back against one of the walls. 

Cigarette in hand, Youngho turns at the call of his name, nearly falling over in surprise to see you standing there. No, not surprise- bewilderment, shock or some form of abject horror as you take a few long strides to stand in front of him. It’s as if a child’s been caught by his mother and Doyoung is playing witness to it all.

Doyoung watches the scene in a state likened to childlike curiosity, he understands not one word that falls from either of your or Youngho’s lips, but he can tell you’re angry and him beyond apologetic. Hand movements gesticulating, he catches the words ‘Seoul’ and ‘Tokyo’ at some point as you huff something out under your breath. Voices raising, Doyoung’s surprised Yuta hasn’t come out to tell them to be quiet, but if he were in Yuta’s shoes he wouldn’t as you sounded royally pissed. When you turn on your heels Doyoung looks to Youngho for some sort of explanation, but his gaze is solely locked on you leaving.

“Shouldn’t you chase after her?” Minhyung asks, the two others not realizing he had returned, box of chalk in hand as the three men watch you storm out into the crowded streets.

“She needs to calm down before I talk to her again or she might really kill me.” Youngho sighs, bringing the cigarette to his lips before taking in a long drag. A hand runs through his hair as it looks as if all of the blood had drained from his face upon your arrival.

“Is that the friend you mentioned a while ago? You showed us a picture I think.” Doyoung questions, somewhat relieved at your intrusion into their previous conversation.

“It is,” the answer not coming from Youngho, but from Minhyung. “And by the sound of it she’s ready to pack you into her suitcase and take you on the next boat home.” Head nodding as he looks to the space you once occupied, “You really didn’t tell her you were coming here?”

“You understood that?” Smoke leaving him he turns to the younger, “You didn’t tell me you speak English.”

“It never really came up.” Shoulders shrugging as he sets the box of chalk he’d been fiddling with down onto a nearby chair. “And I am from Canada, after all.”

“Son of a bitch, Yuta told me you were from Hanseong.” Youngho muses, tossing the cigarette from his hand and smothering it with his shoe. “But yeah, that’s her. I may have neglected to mention that but I was a little held up,” he looks confused as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way to the door, peering out in the street. “I just don’t know how in the hell she found me.”

“She probably used the wrath of God to do it,” Minhyung suggests, “That’s how my mom says she knows everything I’ve ever done wrong.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” A shake of his head as Youngho turns to Doyoung. “She said she’s staying at the hotel you’re in. Would you mind meeting up with me tomorrow morning in the lobby to talk some sense into her and get her to go back home?”

“I don’t even know her though?” Hands dried on a nearby towel, Doyoung stands and reaches for the bucket of now dirty water. He walks past Youngho and into the street to dump its contents out, “I don’t even speak that much English.” 

“It’s more of moral support than anything,” Youngho steps aside to let Doyoung back in, “I wasn’t joking: she might actually kill me if she gets the chance.”

“Fine,” Doyoung sighs, walking to pick up his bag from the corner of the room. His hands smell of vinegar and he rubs his still pruned fingertips together as he thinks of what the next morning would hold. “You owe me, though.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Youngho breathes a sigh of relief as Doyoung makes his way to the front door once again, this time with the intent of leaving. “Nine work for you?”

“Nine works for me.” A nod as he walks down the two steps and onto the dirt road below, the indentations from your shoes leading off down the almost empty road. He glances back to Youngho with a, “See you tomorrow,” and then to Minhyung with a question of “Do we have a quiz on Friday?” before waving it off and beginning his trek back home.

The night descends on Kyoto quietly and without noise, the stores closing long after the sun has fallen behind the western mountains in Arashiyama, lanterns aligning the street as Doyoung shuffles his way to the hotel. It’s quiet, the city typically is at this time of night, he’s learned over the course of his stay in the ancient former capital.

Before he goes inside, he stands outside of the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he stares up at the night sky blooming with stars. His bag lays at his feet, more worn now than it had been on the first day of class. Crumpled in his fists, buried away into the depths of his coat lies a letter, the ink that had adorned it far too smudged and water damaged to read now. Doyoung hadn’t meant to ‘accidentally’ drop it into a puddle when it had arrived that morning, so the contents lie unknown. However, on the corner of the envelope, a blurred name, ‘Seungwon’ stays virtually untouched as if to remind him of former obligations. 

It’s as if there’s a clock ticking in his chest, counting down to a day, a time, when he’s meant to take up the holstered responsibility of his family and place it onto his own shoulders. A burden not yet ready to bear, he sighs out into the balmy night and makes his way inside of the hotel. 

[1909.05.27. 今出川、京都] Doyoung wakes to the knocking on his door, his head burrowing into the tangled blankets and pillows from a restless night’s sleep. It takes a moment for him to find himself, writhing around the sheets before pulling himself out of his own stupor. Feet hitting the floor with a dull thud, he drags his lethargic body to the small bathroom, running his hands under the cool water of the faucet before splashing some onto his face to wake himself further. He meets his own gaze in the reflection, tired eyes and the slightest shadow of stubble beginning to darken on his jaw and upper lip. He’d have to visit the barber at some point in the coming days before he becomes totally unkempt.

He dresses himself in casual attire, a white linen button up, the most breathable thing he’d wear today, before he dons the dark blue of his three piece suit, a light gray and black one still residing in his wardrobe. He notices the threadings are nearly worn as he buttons the bottom half of his jacket, the things threatening to fall off should he exert too much force. The soles of his shoes too lie in disarray, wearing thin from endless wandering the streets of Kyoto after his classes have finished. It’s not that he’s searching for anything in particular, maybe a solution to his current situation. But he can’t find that at a merchant’s stall.

The route to the dining hall located on the first floor is a path easily tread, remembered in his first few days of arriving in Kyoto. The carpeted floors giving way to a wooden expanse the further he delves into the hotel, the scents of varying breakfast foods calling out to his aching stomach. 

His hands keep busy with the morning paper, perhaps yesterday’s or the day prior to that one. It takes a while for the Korean post to arrive in Kyoto, the postage system seems to take years for important things to arrive, yet the letters from home seem to be weekly. A sigh as he sets down the news, reaching out for the carafe of coffee situated some ways away from where he’s seated. He begins to pour himself a cup of coffee, only pausing when he catches something out the corner of his eye. 

A few darkened drips from the coffee pot settle into the white linen of the dining room tablecloth as he spots you stalking towards him. His eyes go wide and his breath hitches when your gaze narrows on him, almost causing him to choke on coffee he’d just brought to his lips.

The way you saunter over to his table reminds him of his mother when she’d be out to scold either him or his brother. Doyoung doesn’t know you but can easily tell that you’re not a force to be reckoned with. 

“Where’s John?” You ask, standing before him, arms crossing over your chest as you look down at him expectantly. “You were one of the men with him yesterday, right?”

“What?” Doyoung asks, trying to make some sense of what you were saying. When he was a young boy, his parents had allowed him to take English lessons with a handful of the Christian missionaries that had drifted through Guri, but seeing as he understands nothing of what you just said, it’s obvious he hadn’t retained much, if any, of his vocabulary. “What are you looking for?” He sees no glimmer of understanding in your eyes as your brow furrows, probably trying to decipher what he’d just said. “Youngho? Are you looking for Youngho?” It’s the common connection the two of you seem to have, it’s his best bet on trying to figure out what you want. 

You nod at the name, recalling that his mother shouts that at him whenever he’s angry. “Where is he?” If you’d taken up John on any of his invitational Korean lessons, you may have had much better luck in this situation. But you’d gone off to learn French because you were enamored with one of your classmates at the time, you could almost hit yourself seeing where it’s gotten you. 

“Whe-” Doyoung pauses, lips pursing together as he thinks of the word. Youngho was meant to be in the lobby when she came downstairs, but it’s now clear he’s nowhere to be found. 

 “School.” It’s one of the words he can pull from memory. “He’s probably at the school,” he says again and gestures in the general direction of Yuta’s academy. 

“The school- Imadegawa Gaikokujin Nihongo Gakko?” You’ve said the name of the institute hundreds of times to yourself that you think it’s the only Japanese you know. Not that you fully understand what it means, just knowing that it’s the name of the place. 

Doyoung nods, somewhat surprised that you know the name. 

“Can you take me?” The question falls out quickly and you see he’s confused, so you repeat it again slowly in hopes that he comprehends it. It seems that he does, reaching for his coffee and finishing the cup before rising to his feet, motioning for you to follow him as he heads towards the exit.

The walk to the school is painfully awkward, drenched in a silence that neither of you want to address. Both of you are not confident enough in the other’s mother tongue to make small talk as the two of you begin to walk the streets. 

“Hey!” Doyoung hears Minhyung call out as the schoolhouse nears, “Took you long enough, you’re almost late.” When the younger sees that you’re accompanying him he gives you a small wave, “You’re Youngho’s friend, right?” 

“I am,” You say after a moment, not having expected to hear English today. But with the company that John keeps, you can’t be too surprised at anything now. “Do you know where he is?”

“No, he’s not here yet,” he shakes his head and turns to Doyoung, “Didn’t Youngho say that you’d meet him at the hotel?”

“He did,” Doyoung’s lips curve into a frown as the three of you make your way into the school. “She’s been interrogating me about him, I think. Although I can barely understand what she’s saying.”

Minhyung laughs at the older and then turns back to you, “My name’s Minhyung, but you can call me Mark if that’s easier for you.” His demeanor has a lightness to it that descends onto you as something of a godsend. It’s an ease that you’d probably find with John if he were here and you aren't still angry at him. 

“It’s nice to meet you Minhyung,” you offer him a smile before your eyes go wide and you turn to your partner, “I uhm, I never asked him what his name is.”

“Doyoung,” Minhyung answers, another chortle leaving him and the elder looks confused as to why his name’s just been called out. “What’s your name?”

You respond quickly, glancing over your shoulder to see if John is on his way in, to your misfortune, he isn’t. Minhyung quickly introduces you to Doyoung, probably so he has a gist of who you are. It’s hard to tell if John’s said anything about you to these men, but it doesn’t look as if he’s said much.

“We’ve got class soon,” Minhyung’s voice pulls you from your search and you turn back to him, “I’m sure Yuta would let you sit in on the class if you wanted to, although I’m not too sure that you’ll understand much, I don’t even get all of it.”

“It’s alright,” you shake your head at him, “I’ll just wait out here for Joh- Youngho.”

The man in question strolls into the school around thirty minutes later, the local paper tucked under his arm as his brow raises in surprise to see you, “I thought I said I’d meet you at the hotel.”

“I got impatient,” a frown as your gaze flickers over to him. “Jail John? Jail?” You fume, storming over to the taller, “Do you have any idea how worried I was, how worried your mother was? God- If you don’t write to her today and tell her that you’re okay, I'm stuffing you in my suitcase and taking you back with me.”

He laughs heartily, despite you glaring him down, “I wrote to her as soon as I got out. I wrote to you, too, but it doesn’t seem like you got the message.” A few more chuckles escape him as he holds his arms out, “I missed you.”

You sigh, falling into his embrace, “I missed you too.” After a moment you pull away, stepping back from him, “I’m glad to see that you’re okay, but if you ever do something like this again-”

“I’ve missed your hollow threats,” John smiles and glances around the school’s empty halls, “Do you want to get out of here for a while? I know a good cafe nearby.” 

“Don’t you have class?” You question with a tilt of your head, the gentle murmurs from the classroom some ways away drifting out into the hall. “Minhyung said that Doyoung was already late, I wouldn’t want to stop you from your lesson.”

“I’m not a student,” John shakes his head, “I’m just… in town for a while and Yuta’s putting up with me for a bit.” He flashes you a grin before you have a chance to ask him exactly what he means by that, “Now come on before they run out.”

The two of you walk out into the dense heat of August, passing by a group of students as you do so. John recognizes some of them whereas you don’t, him saying something to them that elicits a laugh or two before you’re both back on your way to the city center. 

“Why were you arrested?” You can’t stop yourself from asking the question as you turn onto the main road from the alley in which the school is situated. There are only a handful of people perusing the streets, but none look interested in what you’d just said. “It wasn’t serious, right?”

“Of course not,” he reassures you and looks to a few buildings ahead, “We’re almost there.” John walks in silence for a moment, his fingers rubbing against his palm as he looks back to you, “I lost my passport, can you believe it?” You recall when you were leaving San Francisco and you had lost your own passport, if it hadn’t been for the man that found it for you, you’re not sure where you’d be.

“Well, actually, I didn’t lose it, it fell between the pages of one of the books that I bought, which reminds me- I have a few for you, I wrote you about them, just remember to tell me to give them to you,” John says quickly as you approach the building he’d been eyeing earlier, walking into the opened door confidently and heading to the nearest open table. 

You can tell he’s lying. You’ve only known him since you were children and he’s the closest person to you, you know almost every little quirk about him. And one of the first things you’d learned was that he talks quickly when he’s not being truthful. Yet, you don’t question him on it, seeing as you’d just calmed the tension between you, you don’t want to ignite it for the second time today. So, you just nod and follow him inside.

More oft than not, you hide your feelings behind a veneer of snark, of a bite that seems to sting but never lasts. It’s a sham way to hold yourself together, for if you let the dread of reality seep into your veins any longer than you allow it, you may just become the person you’re trying to hide. A vulnerable being who longs for the company of others but finds errant ways to keep them close instead of just outright saying it. 

John offers out a seat to you and you sit, hands folding neatly atop the tabletop as you look to the menu scrawled onto a chalkboard near the cafe’s counter. You’re not sure why you do, the mix of Japanese alphabets is still foreign to you.

“I’ll go grab something, just wait here,” he says, noticing your confusion, still standing before he turns on his heels and strides over to the counter. You turn away before he begins to speak to the barista, looking out of the glass window at the front of the shop, 

“How long were you planning on staying in Japan?” John’s voice stirs you some time later, the gentle sound of two cups being placed on the table making you turn in his direction as he sits down across from you. 

“As long as it took me to find you.” You smile at him, reaching out for the small cup, “I guess that means I can pack my bags and leave now.” The smile placated on your lips is joking, but you hold a sincerity in your gaze as if to ask him if that’s what you should do next. He was the entire reason you were here, to find him, to make sure that he was okay and to bring him home if you could. 

John’s finger traces the rim of his own coffee cup, gently lifting after a moment to tap along the surface of the tabletop. He hums, low and obstinate, as if to ponder the significance of you being here. 

“I guess you could,” a slow nod of his head, “You know, you were never obligated to chase me half-way across the world to try and get me back home. I’ve been detained before-”

“You have?” eyes widening as you look from your coffee to meet his eyes, “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“I’ve been detained before but,” he continues, gaze hardening at you as you interrupt him, “I really thought I had lost my papers so I sent my mom a letter saying I may need my official documents back home to get me out of the mess I found myself in. This was a little more serious than the others.”

“What happened the other times?”

“Well, in London they stopped me for taking too much tea out of the country, I guess they thought I’d run them dry of it,” a teasing smile twinges on the corners of his lips, “and in Cairo, I tried to sneak off with a few things from Cleopatra’s tomb.”

“You know,” you lean back in your chair, a snide frown on your lips, “lying less might help you out in the future.”

John laughs, reaching into his jacket pocket to procure his pack of smokes, it isn’t until he’s got a lit cigarette dangling from his lips that he speaks again, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He suddenly gasps, the smoke he’d been inhaling filtering into his lungs and causing him to sputter for a moment. You reach for and hand him his cup of coffee  so he doesn’t choke on himself. After a moment of hitting his chest and extinguishing his cigarette into the ashtray on the corner of the table, he speaks up, “You didn’t use your grandmother’s money to get you here, did you?”

“Well, technically it isn’t hers anymore,” a guilty exhalation of a chuckle, “but yes, I did.”

“Oh,” He’s crestfallen in the most faux of ways, “You said you’d take me to Italy with that.” It’s a joke, but you can see his concern wavering behind the sincerity of his words. 

Your hand falls to run over the textured brocades of your dress, a wavering smile delicately tugging at the corners of your lips, “I was just worried about you.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do,” brow softening as he reaches for his coffee, voice still a bit hoarse from his earlier choking. “But you don’t need to throw everything you have away for me, I know the trip probably wasn’t cheap.” 

John’s not wrong. It had taken quite a large portion from your deceased grandmother’s account to get you here, and the subsequent stay in the country. 

“I had to make sure you were okay,” you shrug your shoulders with a coy smile, reaching out to pick up your teacup and bring it to your lips. It’s then you realize something, setting the cup back down and looking around the shop, eyes wide.

“What is it?” John questions, noticing your shift in demeanor. 

“I haven’t ever been abroad before, I thought maybe I’d travel to Paris or London, Milan, even… Never…” A small hum as you turn to look back at him, “Never to Kyoto.”

“I’d have loved for you to see Seoul,” John smiles softly, his fingers tapping along the sides of the cup, “It’s beautiful this time of year.”

“You make it sound as if it’s impossible to go,” a tilt of your head. John had told you stories from his time studying abroad, of the antics he and his friends would get up to and of the history he’d learned. 

“It would be a little difficult to go back right now,” the smile lingering on his lips looks sad now, almost wistful in a way, “I’m sure we could go in the future if you want to.”  

“I’d love to,” you nod, glancing out of the window once more to watch the passersby walk up and down the crowded street.

[blooddrop-palace]

- Master Post of DMC fics by Rubixa Seraph -

(Come leave a comment, even a ❤️ comment will make my day!)

Series: Reignite the Flame

[Mostly canon-compliant series, with my take on who Nero’s mother is, and why she disappeared. At the same time, it looks like Dante had a daughter he didn’t know about, and she very much wishes to meet him.]

Hell Froze Over, and We Shall Reignite It - [Multi-chapter, ongoing]  Post DMC5, where Vergil, Dante, and Nero collectively find that their family is bigger than they thought. They find Nero’s mother down in Hell, and Nero finds a cousin. Yes, Dante, you do not have the high ground regarding the whole “you have a kid and didn’t know it??”

Could Have Been a Fever Dream - [One Shot, NSFW 🌶️] A little background on how Vergil met Sera, and that one spicy night they had together.

Edge of Infinity With You - [One Shot, NSFW 🌶️] A little background on how Dante met Kassy, and the whole night of fun they had.

FANART: Seraphina Valkyrie Character Design

Series: Fortune Favors the Bold

[Eva lives, and the twins grew up in Fortuna and are Holy Knights AU.]

Sons of Fortune - [Multi-chapter, ongoing] An AU where Eva, Vergil, and Dante collectively survived the attack from Mundus, and moved to Fortuna, where Vergil and Dante grow up in a more stable environment. The twins will get to have a place to call home, and even more people to love and make family with. Lots of family fluff, and I think this qualifies as a kid-fic. 

Practical Birthday Gifts -  [One Shot, NSFW 🌶️] “And there was only one bed!” trope. Dante x OC (Kassy) and a spicy night. Of course, this was indulgent smut. 

FANART: Holy Knight Vergil and Dante Sparda Plushie for Nero

Series:  This is Not an Office Rom-Com

[Office AU, no supernatural things, everyone is human. Slow burn drabbles of reader!insert working at the office and will slowly find themselves in a three-way relationship with Vergil and Dante.]

Crayon Rainbows After Rain - [One Shot] “Prequel” to the start of the series, as a bit of background to the AU and family setup of our cast.

I Owe You Lunch - [One Shot] Reader spills two whole lunch containers, that had a sticky note on it saying it belonged to Dante. Little did you know, just buying him lunch wasn’t the end of the scenario...

Espresso Sized Facts - [One Shot] Reader teaches Nero (who is on summer break and visiting the office) how to use the company’s espresso machine. You learn a bit more about drink and dessert preferences of the Sparda family. And you still don’t know who Nero’s and Vitale’s dad is.

Other Works and Series:

Scales, Feathers, and Eggshells -  [Multi-chapter, ongoing] 1k (roughly) word per chapter challenge! AU where Nero is 1/4 human, 3/4 devil, and 100% cute! The story of Vergil and his devilish mate raising a little hatchling.

Shattered Mirrors Repaired With Gold - [Series, WIP] This is the “What if Dante and Vergil’s positions were switched?” AU. Except I haven’t finished writing that part yet. Instead, you have two stories about Credo and Noel right now. Who is Noel? Not-actually-Nero... Dante’s daughter left in Fortuna. Yep.

The Danger of Doppelgängers - [Two-shot, WIP] The Noir AU DMC zine may not have made it to production stage, but I still have something to show for it. This was my piece, and I have a follow-up in due time.

Through the Lens of the Beholder -  [Multi-chapter, ongoing] Photographer!Reader, slight canon divergence (for reader's existence), following your photo-filled journey with the cast through DMC5. You will ogle all of the cast. All of them.

Kaleidoscope Worlds - Prompt Fills  All of my tumblr prompt requests go here. The first chapter has a table of contents detailing what prompts, with general tag-summaries. 

Checkmate Fate - [Series] Some indulgent canon-divergence, of what if Vergil and Nero’s mother reunited between the events of DMC3 and DMC1. Various flavors of family reunion fics. 

Blessings of Family - [Series] A “what-if” AU to my Reignite series, where Dante does get to know about Snow’s existence, and does his best to raise a happy family. A drabble-esque series outlining how much his family would mean to him, and how it affects how he welcomes Vergil back, post DMC5, among more family fluff.

Full Course - [Series, NSFW 🌶️] Don’t ask how we got here. Just know that this is where we are: Reader and Vergil acts on the idea of giving Nero a sibling. Nero has to process this news. Dadgil plus Spicy stuff. I blame tumblr for this one.

Hierarchy of Kings -  [Multi-chapter, ongoing]  I am prone to falling into multi-verse hell. This is an AU with Vergil meeting Roy King, an OC of mine. It’s a different flavor of world from Reignite, and is supposed to be all fluff-indulgent. Vergil needs a friend to have heart-to-hearts with, and if that friend becomes boyfriend, why not? 

Two Undergrads and a Cat - [One-Shot, 2020 Secret Santa Gift] A Reader x V “before established relationship” College AU fic. 

How to Ensure Survival When You Are Caught By the Most Dangerous Devils From Topside -  [One-Shot, NSFW 🌶️] A devil!reader insert story of getting some feral love in your favorite two devils’ nest. Absolute kink-fill. Please check tags for more details.

A Perfect Love is Not Picky and To Catch a Fleeting Presence - [One-Shots, NSFW 🌶️] My spicy contributions to the digital “after dark” Jackpot Dante zine!

DMCWeek 2020 - This links to a post of all 7 fics with their titles, themes, and summaries.

Headcannon Posts:

[I don’t do these often.]

🌶️ NSFW Alphabet J and V

🌶️ NSFW Alphabet X, D, and K

‘Useless’ Talent head canons

Sera and Vergil gift-giving thoughts

Kassy and Dante on hand-holding and declarations of love

[sabrinamichele]

Dear you,

I’ve meant to write you, so many times…and yet it hasn’t felt right, until now. I want to write to you, before I meet you, as I feel there’s so much I want you to know. About the girl before, the girl that was, before the woman you will one day meet. Tonight finally feels like a good time to at least start. Because tonight I just learned my last living grandparent, my grandma Mae, passed away today. My heart breaks tonight, not just because she is gone, but because you will never meet her, nor any of the amazing people who were a part of that generation, who helped raise me, helped make me who I am today. My heart aches with all that loss. The love, the life, the laughter…a familiarity so comfortable that there is almost a physical ache in the knowledge that it is forever gone. I hope one day to tell you about each of them, to hopefully give you an idea of who they were, at least to me, even if I know I will never do it fully justice. I think that’s why I want to start writing you now. Full well knowing how it must sound, and how it will look, I’m doing this for you, and I’m doing this for me.

I’ve known for just a little over a week now that my grandma had just about a week left. It wasn’t even that surprising; I have known deep down that this was probably coming— resolved myself to it, told myself all of the rational things, “this happens,” “she’s older,” etc., etc. But even still, hearing it out loud, it hit me…harder than I expected it to. And I knew that I needed to see her. I knew this was important. More than work, or the mundane day-to-day things that seem to matter so much—until they don’t. So I went, and I saw her. Even though her body didn’t seem to be hers anymore, and her mind was no longer serving her as it should, it was still her, and she knew who I was, and that was all that I could ask for. To see her, to say I loved her—and to hear her say it back—it was everything. My heart still aches for my parent and aunt and uncle who have been with her non-stop since this started, and the grief I know that they must be feeling too. Grandma Mae had just turned ninety years old. A small woman, but she had a spark. So much spunk and personality there. They lived humbly, my grandpa Vance and her—but you’d never hear her ever in a negative spirit. She always seemed to have a positive thing to say; usually it was some funny story she would be hearing about this, that or the other. “About whichmajigger” was a pretty common saying, because the name of the person would escape her. Mae and Vance lived on a farm about an hour north of the small town I grew up in, in Oregon, in an even tinier town named Halsey. There were many summers when my younger brother and I would get shipped off to our grandparents for a month (or at least it felt like a month). So many memories: That little ramshackle house, the barn, the feral cats that lived under the house—there were always kittens, which I was always chasing in the hopes of catching one to just love on it, to be inevitably scratched up mercilessly by it, drop it, and the cycle would start all over again. The old white, deep clawfoot bathtub that scratched our bottoms raw from the roughness of the tub. Hundreds of VHS tapes meticulously organized and labeled, three moves to a tape, which we spent hours watching in front of their tv in their living room. The dozens of old clocks, that you would hear in their varying chiming, dings, cuckoos, and even bird calls (yes, bird calls) at the top of every hour. I can remember being very young one night, sleeping in the living room at their farmhouse, waking up and just hearing all of those clocks—their ticking so loud in the dead of night that I just sat there and listened. I remember the stories. Oh the stories they would tell us of us “hoodlum children.” Ha! I don’t actually remember this personally, I must have been too young, but I loved hearing my grandma tell it. Both my grandparents had previous marriages, so there were often times I would come to visit that my grandpa Vance’s other grandchildren would be visiting them as well. I think there must have been four of us, all boys, save for me. My grandparents would often take us to the coast in their trailer, all of us kids sleeping on one small kitchen table, converted into a bed come night. Apparently the boys were “little terrors,” the entire time—or so the story goes, according to Grandma Mae—but, even so, they treated me like, “a little lady.” It still shocks me, thinking about it now (especially knowing how incredibly cold the ocean is off the Oregon Coast), but apparently whenever they would take us to the beach, we wouldn’t be there but five minutes before we were all of us, all four boys and Sabrina, tearing our clothes off and running pell-mell for the ocean to get in. *laughs* I think about that now, and I can’t help but laugh. We must have come out of that water completely sopping wet, sandy, and shivering from the cold—probably a complete mess and utter handful—but all Grandma Mae did was laugh when she told the story. I love thinking about her laughing. I will always remember her that way—happy, and just so easy to be around. And I remember she used to sing. I

wish my memory was better, but I think I remember she used to sing to me at night before I fell asleep. I’ve always thought it was my grandma Mae that got me singing when I was a child. Something that so many people didn’t know I could do for years, because I was so terrified of getting up on a stage in front of people and singing. And even now, it seems to be a secret I have kept, yet again—one that breaks my heart. Oh how I secretly long and wish to sing again. I hope to find a way to do so again. My heart feels so big and full when I do. I hope one day to share it with you.

There are so many memories, and so many more I could share. Thank you for listening to these ones. More than anything, though…I have to admit, I hate that you’re not here. I hate it. Six years—for six years I have been navigating being single and dating, and it’s been gut wrenching. I know it’s weird—talking about it, even just acknowledging it—but I make no apologies for it. I only wish I hadn’t had to experience so much heartbreak. I wish I had already met you. I have been looking for you, this entire time—every time hoping it would be you. I do not know why I wasn’t meant to meet you yet, nor why I still haven’t met you, but I find a small measure of comfort knowing I may not have been ready to (yet). But I am now. I am so ready. With that said, I am sorry you will not ever know the girl I was, before. The strong-willed, headstrong, stubborn, full of life girl that I was. She’s still there, I promise. She still has her moments. Haha! I’m sorry you will not meet a girl with the naïveté of youth, or wanting a romantic, “fairy-tale” wedding. I’m afraid I have already been there, done that, and come out the other end. While I may have lost some of that, the girl who wants to be treated special, like she’s the most important, most beautiful woman in the room—she’s still in there. I still have a romantic heart, that still beats, even after having been broken a few times. I just don’t know how much more I can take, to be perfectly honest. I want to find you, I want it more than I can even say…but I also have to protect this heart of mine. She’s so incredibly tired—of being stomped on, of being passed by, of not being taken care of—that I don’t think I can take it another time. So, I’ve stopped looking. And especially here—Sacramento is the worst, or at least it has been for me. That’s not to say I’ve entirely given up…at least not on the idea of you. The hope of you. That somehow you exist—as hard as that is to imagine, well-meaning people continue to tell me that you do. Here’s the thing: I will not settle. I have not settled. I’m here, living my best life, waiting for you to join me in it. I hope that you will. But even if you don’t? I will just keep on living my dreams out—with every adventure, every trip…I just sometimes wish I could have you in my life to share all of them with you. I want that so bad. I hope that one day we can share all of the stories, all of the adventures in life that led to us finally meeting. I also hope that you don’t let the strong woman you meet one day intimidate you too much; at least not enough to not approach me. I hope that you do. I hope you make the first move. I hope you aren’t afraid to ask me on a date, and the next date, and the next. I hope that, no matter when you meet me, you pursue me. And I hope you don’t ever let me go.

Until that day, I know I am going to keep loving the hell out of me, wishing you were here, but continuing on—the strong, resilient, independent woman that I am. I have so much more that I could say, but I think that’s probably enough for tonight.

So with that I will say goodnight.

Love, me.

[fandomnomad]

Throne of Glass Oneshot

Carter was finding it quite difficult to keep his anger and frustration in check. The king had ordered him to look into the death of one of his ministers. Not that the prick was of much importance, but murder of one of kings lackeys demanded an investigation even if it was only a show piece. Carter had gotten stuck in this errand 'cause the king had begun to be more and more cautious nowadays. With not much luck to him in finding out why. It could be due to the arrest of Adarlan’s Assasin a few months ago, though there wasnt much to lead on in there. A magnificent peice that one.

So here he was now, doing law stuff in a city he liked and despised so much. Carter was one of the people the king kept for doing his dirty work . He moved through the city like a feral cat. Unpredictable, dangerous but composed. It was because of these qualities(and many others) that the king let him live instead of killing him like he had done for the other children of Terrasen. Only a few of them remained now. The sheer devastation of his country still haunted him in his nightmares. He was eleven when it had happened, and he alongside his friend Aedion had fought in the battle. Both of them had been brought to Adarlan to work for the King.

The night was getting colder. The chilly wind snapped him back to the present. He was near his destination now. One of the most wealthy and popular brothels in Rifthold. Clarisse's brothel.

His investigation had led him to The king of Assasins. Arobyn Hamel. The one who had passed along the contract of the assasination of the Minister. He wasn't here to arrest Hamel, no, he was merely here to show him to not cross his lines. Just a warning. He had found out Hamel's preference - a whore named Lysandra. He was here for a power play that the snivelling bastard Perrington had asked him to do instead of arrest.

Inside of the brothel was probably more luxurious than many of the kings minister’s palaces. Almost all of the whole city's wealthiest criminals were a regular here. He waltzed inside with his swaggering arrogance looking for Lysandra. Declining whores -both male and female, and businessmen alike.

After a couple of minutes he found his target - Arobyn Hamel. By the looks of it the whore sitting in his lap would be Lysandra. He sat down in the couch beside Hamel. Not caring about his gaurd dogs that were hovering around. Second rate assasins.

"Quite a wild one you've got there." His cool collected voice drawing the King of Assassin's attention. As well as his toy's. The girl probably wasn't even 20. But not even a fool would deny her beauty. She looked surprised at the interruption and rightly so; not many would dare interrupt the King of assasins. The prize was Hamel though, Carter could sense his surprize. Not that Hamel would ever show it. He fixed Carter with a look that would make even the bravest of the Knights running. But not him. No. Carter just smirked cheekily at him.

Not getting a response Carter said, "Still not out of the pleasure fest, eh mate?" Eyeing Lysandra Carter signaled her to come to him. By now Hamel had recognised the person before him. Rare were the people that didn’t cower before the King of Assassins. And this person wasn’t one to be messed with.

Lysandra was now situated in Carter's lap.

Carter's POV

Gotta say this girl is a rare beauty. My one hand was gripping her arm tight. Tight enough to leave visible bruises. Other hand was on her thighs, getting higher and higher. I breathed in her scent and kissed her neck deeply, making her squirm in both pleasure and pain. My hand reached up and jerked her roughly. My tight grip trapping her. Hamel didn't seem to like it.

"Yes. An exquisite one." Hamel finally said. His fist getting tighter in frustration.

"Well the blood money does have its perks.” I looked at Hamel sardonically, daring him to do anything. Ridiculing the King of Assasins. I was getting on his nerves I could tell. “Not many peices like this one up or down in the palace. Better keep a look out. People there are money mongering as I’m sure you know but even they wouldn’t amount to much there. ” Staright and to the point. Hamel now completely understood the reason for my presence. His jaw muscles were flexing. His silver eyes were full of rage at the blatant disrespect shown to him. Damn! It was nice to get this much reaction out of him. I had made my point clear. I gave him a final mocking smirk and dragged Lysandra out with me, tossing a pouch full of coins at Clarisse who was staring at me open-mouthed. Leaving a fuming King of Assasins behind. The colour of his face now matching his hair.

I dragged Lysandra to one of the rooms in the brothel. Making sure to make it rough. My grip had her squirming. Just outside of one of the rooms, I slammed her hard on her wall. A small gasp of pain broke out of her as well as a few whimpers. Squeezing her thigh and neck tight I placed a few kisses on the exposed part of her shoulder. Sucking and kissing at her hard enough to get her squirming and whimpering in pain I slammed her into the wall once again. My hands were roaming all over her body as I left a trail of kisses, getting more and more rough and sadistic. I could feel her fear rising, I doubt she has experienced monsters like me. Well Arobyn is another case. I looked at her, My eyes reflecting anger and sadism. As I noticed one of Arobyn’s lackeys coming into earshot I grabbed her jaw and whispered sadistically, “Listen here bitch. Tell your... client to keep in line and to keep track of his dogs and toys, ‘cause if he doesn’t he’s gonna lose all his toys. Starting with the dogs." I looked directly at Turner, one of his dogs, making him scurry back to his master. The final message was sent.

Though she was good at covering up I could see the fear in her eyes. And damn her even though she was so terrified she glared at me and tried to push me away. Nice. Tonight was going to be nice.

With this I opened the door and dragged her inside and threw her on the bed. Inside there was a bed in the center, with low drawers on either side. a table, couple of chairs, and some fine alcohol on the table. Everything in a shade of red or black. I went back and locked the door. I turned around and saw her sitting on the bed in anticipation. I could smell her fear. Her arms were unconciously rubbing the bruises that I had left, but stopped as soon as she saw me noticing it. I walked towards her. She was glaring at the floor, getting  more and more tense by each step. Sitting down beside her, I caressed her face. Lifted her face that was previously looking down. Her beautiful green eyes met my emotionless ones.

Abrubtly I stood up and walked to the table and poured the wine in two glasses.

“Dont worry kitten I ain’t gonna fuck you.” I felt her freeze in surprize at the sudden turn of events.

Lysandra’s POV

I was sure that my eyebrows went above my hairline. What he just said.... One moment he was so terrifyning and now... now I couldnt feel any of the sadistic aura that he had around him all night.  Ah.. it was a power play with Arobyn Hamel then. Still.. I'm quite expensive and he had paid everything in advance. He also looked like someone who had seen and done much much worse than just forcing someone, much less something he paid for.

“Why?” 

“Why?” He mused. A mischevious smirk on his face. “ Well kitten because you seem like you dont wanna get fucked, especially by me.” What. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came to my mind. He handed me a glass of wine. and lied down beside me. He starred at me for a few minutes. It was unusual. His eyes had this look in them. I couldn’t tell what it was, or what he’s thinking. Interesting.

“Though you do look ravishing.” He said in a deep guttral voice that sent shivers down my spine. His hand was now moving across my bare back giving me goosebumps. I felt the familiar fear return. He sat up and grabbed my jaw. This time though his grip was gentle. Firm but gentle. He pushed me further back in the bed. I was in a lying position now, with him on top of me. I couldn’t move my eyes away from him. I dont know if it was due to fear or something else, but his gaze was captivating. He brought his face dangerously close to mine. My whole body was tensed at what he would do. Normally my clients are prety easy to work with, they're all so predictable and not that hard to manipulate, they all want the same thing as fast and as much as possible in the time the paid for. But this one? So unpredictable. Our faces were just a few milimeters apart, any closer and they would have been brushing against each other.

“Sleep now Kitten, you surely need it.” What again. He said in a quite voice and and rolled off me, laying beside me seemingly in a deep thought.

Carter’s POV

Her eyes were wide in surprize. I snorted from where I was looking at the ceiling. “Wh- why are you...” 

“Why am I letting you have your much needed sleep even when I’ve paid hadsomely in advance for the whole night?” I said with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

She nodded starting to relax a little. Good.

“Well contrary to what majority assumes kitten I ain’t that bad. You should go to sleep, I won’t try anything. ” She looked skeptical but nodded. Still tense she went to sleep. A few minutes later she was fast asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * line break * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It was nearing sunrise when Lysandra woke up. She groaned a little as she sat up and started fixing her clothes. 

“ You actually slept like a kitten.” I commented.

“What’s it to you?” She said. Getting brave now, are we? Guess last night’s little chat broke the ice. I fished around my jacket and pulled out a chocolate and handed it to her. She took it hesistantly. A fine specimen that I nicked on the way here. Munching on the chocolate she asked with a raised eyebrow, ”You like chocolates?” 

“Who doesn’t?” I shrugged. She looked at me for a long moment.

“Who are you?    My name’s Ly-” 

“I know who you are ‘sandra. Anyway I’m someone who’s going to be a regular for you, so better get prepared. And for name...name’s Carter Roschild.” Her eyes widened as she recognised the name. I smirked at her reaction.

“Look tired on the way out, would you?” I fixed my clothes and took the wine bottle with me. “See you later kitten.” I said walking out of the door.