#and perhaps that is why i am floundering now

[courtneedsatoru]

Lovesick Puppy | FirstKiss!Satoru x Reader

Summary: Satoru never thought about kissing before, but now he can't stop thinking about how your lips would feel against his. Word count: ~2.1k

Art credit: @courtneedsleep [ me ;) ]

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Suguru asks his best friend expectantly.

“Even if I haven’t yet, I’d still be the greatest—“

“So you haven’t,” Suguru cuts him off and waves his hand dismissively. “Well that’s good. Shoko said she hasn’t either. Yet. Aren't you curious about what it's like?"

Well, Satoru had assumed he could just "take" you whenever he wanted, for lack of better words or timing. Technically he could get away with kissing whoever he wanted (Geto included) with the privilege of those blessed genetics. Satoru had not conscientiously thought about kissing you, already acting like you were his and he was yours.

Until now.

Satoru's fingers presses against his lips wondering if yours were softer than his. What if when he kissed you, his lips were chapped which you thought were repulsive? Pshh, no, that's ridiculous- his perfect lips were never chapped? His leg bounces up and down nervously. For the first time, Satoru was floundering.

. . .

Suguru had ingrained the idea of kissing you into Satoru's brain. Something inside him was rewired, and he could not seem to control it. Perhaps he didn't want to control it. Satoru sure didn't mind the way you had permeated all of his senses when he was daydreaming about you.

The sunlight kissed his skin, but it wasn’t the type of kiss that Satoru was craving for. He blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes. In his peripheral field, he freezes at the sight of your resting form slumped over the school desk. He should check what time it is, not run his fingers through the mess of your hair spilled across the surface.

Wait. What was he doing? Why did his hands move automatically to brush irresistible, silky locks of yours?

After all, weren’t you just his classmate? His pretty and smart classmate. His classmate who’s the only one who plays along with his teasing and returns those big goofy smiles back.

Yeah, just a classmate that he wanted to kiss senseless.

Satoru couldn’t help himself. Not when you looked so ethereal, so perfect like this. Not when your oh-so-kissable lips were just slightly parted just for him. Not when he was leaning closer and closer, just for one sample of a taste, his lips hovering right over yours and-

T H W A C K

“Had a nice nap, huh? You fool, you think you’re allowed to sleep in my class?”

Fingers drumming the weapon of choice (a textbook), Yaga throws Satoru a sharp glare that breached past both of their shades. Next to him, Suguru has a coy, not-so-innocent smile on his face.

“What were you dreaming about that made you drop your infinity, Satoru?”

Even without being present, you somehow managed to break through his defenses. Satoru’s barrier was no longer effective when you unknowingly decided to invade his mind and soul. If you were going to be a problem, Satoru is going to have to fix it.

. . .

“You should’ve seen me! I hollow purpled the shit out of that curse! It kinda looked like Suguru but more hair and wrinkly, even though they’re not that much different.”

Satoru follows you around on your campus stroll like a golden retriever with a helicopter of a tail that just won’t calm down.

“Of course, you always win,” you reply with a sweet smile that he could just drink up for days.

“That’s it??” A big pout creases his mouth. “Nothing about how strong or cool I am? Or handsome?”

Your sweet smile is immediately wiped off and replaced with a deadpan expression. “You don’t need my approval, Satoru. You already know that you’re strong.”

“Yeah, but what about cool and handsome? I know it, you know it, why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“My bestest friend?”

“That’s Geto.”

“Just once.”

“That’s enough.”

Satoru wanted to whine and pout, but that would be terribly uncool of him in front of you. At this point, he was almost ready to beg but he had an even better idea.

“That’s fine if you don’t want to show me your affection with words. There are other ways too, you know.” His hand grasps your wrist so you can finally turn around and look at him to give him the attention he deserves. Satoru raises your hand up and ducks his head just underneath. He hums and relishes the weight of your hand against his face. “You should be more nice. You’re the only who’s actually gentle and kind with me.”

Oh. Did he just…

…

“You’re… impossible… and cute, I guess,” you concede not as begrudgingly as you intended to be.

“Cool, not cute,” he corrects. Satoru takes initiative, moving your hand back and forth so he can feel the friction against his scalp until you finally get the hint and pat his head for him.

He’s. Too. Cute.

“This is so uncool, Satoru,” you chide.

“I told you to praise me instead.”

“No.”

“I wanted a reward.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Do you want edamame-flavored mochi?”

“No.”

“???”

“I want a kiss.”

Shit, he didn’t mean that- the words just flew out his mouth without much thought. Your hand stops moving against his fluffy hair. Satoru’s heart bashes against his rib cage. Shit, shit, shit-

You suck in a sharp breath. “Satoru, don’t be a greedy shit. Let’s go get mochi.”

. . .

Satoru is a greedy shit.

He sits on your kitchen barstool watching you microwave popcorn, elbows propped up on the counter. The pout on his face was a thousand times more pronounced with the way his cheeks were smushed together against each palm of his hands.

"Jesus, I didn't know you wanted popcorn that badly." You shake your head oblivious of Satoru's heart yearning for something more than just playful elbowing and banter. No, he didn't want popcorn; he wanted you. The only acceptable way he wants that buttery treat is if you were the one feeding it to him with your lips, mouth to mouth-

Salty and sweet explodes on his tongue as a handful of popcorn is shoved into his mouth.

"Happy now? That should get you all fixed up. You're so out of it lately."

Body moving without thinking, his mouth latches onto your fingers before you get the chance to pull them away. He laps at them like a starved dog. His mouth is so wet and warm… and wet… the hot slick coating his tongue is all you could think about. Goodness, how much was he salivating earlier, and was this all really just from popcorn?

He cleans the butter off your fingers watching the entire time the way your pupils dilated.

“Mm, tastes so good…” His tongue swirls around your index finger for one last good measure. Even after pulling back, a string of saliva connects your fingertip with his tongue. “Even better like this. Can I have another one?”

“I… need to wash my hands.”

You hurry off to the bathroom gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles were turning white.

Breathe, you try talking yourself out of this haze of lust. But as soon as you close your eyes, Satoru’s lips puckering around your fingers immediately runs its course back into your mind. The temperatures, the textures, the need are vividly hardwired into your brain. Fuck, what if it was your own tongue instead of just your fingers? Your mouth waters at the thought.

Freezing cold snaps you out of your thoughts. The icy water runs for a while until you’re sure enough you can face Satoru again without crumbling in front of him.

Knock knock knock.

Or not.

“What are you doing? I know you’re not shitting.”

“How do you know that?”

“The faucet is running, and you said you’d be right back, not back in forever.”

You open the door and are met with an impatient Satoru. Not him having separation anxiety, whining and chasing his little tail around waiting for you. How the hell is this the same man who acts so independently and wildly and so sure of himself? He could do whatever he wanted, but everytime, he chooses to put himself in a frenzy all over you.

The two of you walk back to the couch for a movie night. But when you check the bowl of popcorn, it’s already empty? What the fuck?

“Satoru?” you ask already knowing what he’s gonna say.

“Yes, princess?”

“I want popcorn.”

“Mm, is that so?”

Someone wipe that smug-ass grin off his face. “There’s no more popcorn. I wanted popcorn.”

“You have popcorn right here, baby. Tastes exactly the same.” Satoru winks and taps his bottom lip. What a tease.

“I meant actual popcorn. Something I can actually chew on.” You walk up to Satoru, plopping the bowl of popcorn crumbs onto his lap. “Go refill it.”

“Who says you can’t chew on this? I don’t mind you being rough.”

Your nails dig into your palms, anything to distract the tumbleweeds in your stomach.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. You haven’t kissed anyone before?” Oh, of course, he already knows the answer. He just can’t help but tease you even more.

“Yes, actually,” you retort snidely. Satoru’s jaw drops prepared to accuse you for being a bit fat liar.

“Li- mmph…” But before he gets the chance to reply, you shut him up for good.

‘Rough around the edges’ was an understatement. It wasn’t smooth at all, your lips smashing against his, the inner part of your upper lip folding upwards and the bottom gnashing against his teeth. But neither of you couldn’t care less, whether it was an attempt to get a taste of that popcorn, silence that spewing mouth of his, or perhaps a mix of both. No, you shouldn’t lie to yourself. You’ve been aching to feel those plush lips of his against yours from the start.

Satoru groans. Fuck, right now he didn’t want your teeth, he wanted your lips. He pulls back just a centimeter away before realigning the two of yous’ lips properly and diving in for a proper taste. One he could savor and relish. The way you mold perfectly against him so deliciously shoots Satoru straight to heaven and back.

Your hunched form hovering over his wavered. Hands flying up to stabilize yourself, you grip his shoulders so tightly that your nails were sure to leave red marks on them. Satoru knocks the bowl off his lap, and the crumbs spill everywhere onto the floor and in between the crevices of the couch. How annoying it would be to clean up later. But it was completely worth it to pull you down and have you tucked into his lap, your thighs clenching each side of his own. He’s completely and utterly enveloped by your presence, something which he could bask forever in.

Wooziness begins to cloud your mind. A reminder that you need oxygen because you’re human. But Satoru clearly isn’t. The moment you try to pull back for a breath of air, he’s immediately chasing after you for more, more, more. His hands fly up to the back of your head and neck, lips clinging onto yours in heated desperation.

You can’t help but give in to this lovesick puppy. He’s licking, sucking, and nipping feverishly like a dog scarfing down his dinner and licking the bowl clean.

“More,” he whines and tries to kiss you again when you detach your lips with a loud pop. You turn your head away and block his lips with your hands before he devours you again. When he pries your hand off his needy mouth, you stand up and scurry away from him because you know he’ll never stop.

Satoru pouts at the loss of contact. “You didn’t like it?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that.” An evil grin takes place of that bratty pout. “…I j-just need a break. Please.”

Satoru eyes you up and down carefully. The sight of your disheveled hair and the flush that spread from your cheeks down towards what’s visible of your chest did unspeakable things to him.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Your break’s over, princess.”

“What? Wait, hold on, just a minute-“

You backpedal a few steps back thinking Satoru would follow after you. But he doesn’t, just sitting there with his legs all manspread out waiting for you to take your rightful place on his lap.

“Cursed technique lapse: Blue.”

And in a blink of an eye, you crash face-first onto his lips for round two.

[cuubism]

PLEAAE write dreamling pregnancy crackfic you MUST and PLEASE include Sad Crying I Forgor cat dream

Behold, lovely anons, some nonsense.

---

“Um, Dream,” says Hob, staring at the tiny plastic stick sitting on his bathroom countertop, “what is that.”

Dream comes to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder. “It is a pregnancy test.”

“Yeah, why?” Hob picks it up, squinting down at it. “And why is it negative?”

He realizes a second later that the first question out of his mouth should, in fact, have been why the fuck do you have a pregnancy test? Unless it’s not Dream’s and someone just broke into his flat and left it there, which might actually be less weird.

“Presumably because I am not human,” says Dream.

Hob puts the test down. Turns around, takes Dream by the shoulders, and steers him out of the bathroom. Once they’re back in the living room, he means to say a number of things, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “What.”

“The test does not work because I am not human,” Dream repeats. He’s definitely being deliberately obtuse now, if he wasn’t before.

A million questions swirl in Hob’s mind, and a rising swell of panic. He mentally shakes himself. Forces himself to get it together. He’s not a seventeen-year-old kid who got a girl pregnant. He can handle his shit.

He holds Dream still by the arms. Tilts his head until Dream meets his eyes. “Dream, do you have something that you want to tell me? In words, maybe?”

Unless he doesn’t know. But he’s like, a concept, how could he not know?

Wait, is this why Hob was having random dreams about babies last week? He is going to kill this man.

Well, he’s going to give him a hug first. Then he’s going to kill him.

Dream looks into his eyes. Oh God, he’s serious now. So this wasn’t all just for kicks, not that Dream really does things for kicks, anyway. “Hob, I am—”

Hob hauls him into an embrace before he can finish the sentence. Perhaps he should let Dream say it. But he can’t not hug him.

Dream relaxes into his hold. Hob hadn’t realized how tense he was until he did. Oh, poor thing. Just because they’re not young people floundering about on the precipice of adulthood doesn’t mean it’s not stressful. Especially that in between moment, when he knows, and Hob doesn’t.

“I have known for a few weeks now,” Dream says, face pressed to Hob’s shoulder. “Are you upset?”

“No, of course not.” Upset? He’s having their child and Hob’s upset? He supposes they didn’t exactly plan it, but, when has he ever planned anything when it comes to Dream?

He pulls back at last, kisses Dream’s temple, and steers him over to sit down on the couch. He sits beside him, their knees touching. Takes Dream’s hand and squeezes it. “If you already knew, then why did you bother to use the test?”

“I was curious if it would work,” says Dream.

Somehow, Hob doesn’t think that’s the whole truth. “Please tell me you weren’t just going to leave it somewhere and let me guess?”

“I would have crafted some more dreams as well,” Dream says. Blasted idiot. Why is Hob in love with him? Oh yeah, because he’s even more of an idiot.

“Wasn’t picking up on it,” Hob says. “I didn’t think this was possible, to be honest. We’ve just been recklessly having unprotected sex for how long? And you never thought to mention this was a possibility?”

“I forgot,” Dream says morosely, the most pitiable frown on his face. “It is not as straightforward as it is for humans. But yes, it is possible. Evidently. I suppose I have been caught up in the… joy of our moments together. I have not had a lover in a long time.”

“Oh, love.” Hob holds him close, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “It’s alright. It’s my fault, really. I should have asked. Wrap it before you tap it, Hob.”

Dream wrinkles his nose at the phrasing. Hob kisses him on the tip of his nose.

“Maybe I was thinking about it a little bit,” Hob admits. The thought has definitely… crossed his mind, before. And it’s easy to get drawn in, when Dream is in his bed, when he looks so gorgeous, when Hob makes love to him and fills him and—

Oh, this is his fault. This is absolutely his fault. He’d thought it was a safe fantasy to indulge in, impossible in reality. Meanwhile he was fucking one of the few beings made of both fantasy and reality at once. Hob’s really the king idiot.

“A little bit?” echoes Dream, raising an eyebrow.

Hob cringes. “A lot a bit?”

Unexpectedly, Dream smiles. “You are happy, then.”

Hob goes still, staring at him. “Did I not say?”

“You expressed that you were not upset,” says Dream. “Which is not the same thing as being happy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Hob holds him closer, kisses his cheek, his brow, the corner of his lips. “I love you so much. I’m so happy.”

“Truly?”

Hob kisses him on the lips this time, long and deep. Takes Dream’s face in his hands and caresses his cheeks. “Truly. Obviously.”

Dream hums, sounding pleased.

“Are you happy?” Hob asks. Though he suspects Dream would have been rather obvious in his displeasure if he wasn’t, he usually is.

“I believe so,” says Dream carefully. “I… would like to be. Only, I have failed before, when I had a child.” Hob pulls far enough away to look at him. Dream’s expression has twisted now. “I do not wish to repeat that.”

“You won’t.” Dream looks unconvinced, so Hob repeats it. “You won’t. You’ve learned from that. So have I.” Hob certainly made many of his own mistakes with Robyn. But he still wants to try again.

“There are many terrible endings to this story,” Dream says. Of course, Hob’s just looking at the beginning of the thing, and Dream’s looking at the whole arc, especially the end.

“And good ones,” Hob says. “I promise. I’ll do everything I can to make it good.”

“I do believe that,” says Dream, finally offering him a small smile. “You have been able to make many things good for me when I thought it impossible.”

That might just be the greatest success of Hob’s life. To make Dream see that things can be good.

“It will be good,” he vows. “You’ll see, darling.” And Dream smiles again.

Hob lays his hand over Dream’s lower belly. He doesn’t know if this pregnancy even has a physical component at all—Dream himself barely has a physical component sometimes—but it’s instinct to hold him there.

Hob can already feel himself wanting to coddle him. He’s going to have to stop himself from doing that, he highly doubts Dream will appreciate it. He has to remind himself that what happened with Eleanor won’t happen again this time, that modern medicine is so much better, and that Dream isn’t even human in the first place. For all he knows, the baby will just be born out of the clouds.

“Hob,” says Dream. “You are drifting.”

Hob shakes himself. “Sorry, love.”

“What were you thinking of?” Dream presses, brow pinching. “I felt the nature of the daydreams turn… darker.”

Hob grimaces. “It’s really nothing. Just me in my head, you know.”

Dream keeps looking at him expectantly.

Hob sighs. “It’s just, it didn’t go so well last time, with Eleanor, you know? And I know this is different, you’re different, so just be patient with me if start being a mother hen, yeah?”

“Hob…” Dream takes his hand, interlacing their fingers. “I’m sorry, I had not considered. Do you not want…?”

“No! I do want this. I just worry, is all.” He kisses Dream’s cheek. “It’s because I love you. Couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

“I must do what I can to make it good, then,” Dream says, and Hob smiles at the turnabout of his words. “You need not worry. There is no danger to me. And the baby is not human, besides.”

"It's not?" Hob supposes it's not that much of a surprise. "What is it, then?"

“I am not quite sure. I expect it will become evident soon.” He rests his hand over Hob’s, which is still on his stomach, and he looks fond now. “Perhaps once I can see its dreams.”

“You can see its dreams?”

Dream casts him an amused look. “I am made up of those dreams. And all others. Why should our baby be different?”

Our baby. It’s so affecting to hear him say it like that.

“Our baby,” Hob repeats, just for the sound of it.

“Yes,” says Dream. He sounds properly happy now, which is so lovely to hear. “Ours.”

“Well, now I’m glad we forgot to talk about magical birth control,” Hob says. “Irresponsible sex for the win! Now I get to meet our magical baby.”

“I have never known you to be a man particularly driven by responsible decision-making,” Dream says solemnly.

Hob gapes at him. “Hey!” It’s true, though. It’s all true. “I’ll be the most responsible parent you ever saw. I’ll only let them have the iPad for twenty-three hours a day instead of twenty-four.”

“I can create fantastic spectacles to which the likes of ‘Cocomelon’ cannot hope to compare,” Dream says indignantly, as if this was really an open question in Hob’s mind.

“You can be in charge of screen time, then,” Hob tells him, and Dream’s scowl shifts into a smile.

“When do I need to be ready for this?” Hob asks. “Is it like a nine months thing, or…?”

“Unclear,” says Dream. Fantastic. Typical. For all Hob knows, Dream will show up with a whole baby in his arms tomorrow. Either that or it’ll be a hundred years from now. “I suspect there will be an element of surprise.”

Of course. Dream’s sense of time passing is pretty bad at the best of times, why would the baby be any different?

“I’ll have to get to the shops, then, seeing as I don’t currently own an iPad,” Hob says.

Dream hands him one that definitely was not in existence a moment ago.

“Did you get that—”

“From a dream, yes.”

Hob stares at it in wonder for a moment, wondering if it even has normal apps, or strange ones only dreamt of, then sets it on the coffee table. “Well, Christmas shopping with you will be a cinch.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. “I would not wish to burden you with these things,” he finally says. “To upend your life when you are already well-occupied.”

“Nope, none of that.” Hob takes Dream’s hands and pulls them close. “First of all, I’m very old and can afford to buy a lot of iPads, so don’t worry about it. But more than that, I love you.” He taps Dream’s belly, though he still doesn’t know exactly how or where this not-human baby is meant to grow. “And you. So don’t think like that. I know I can’t expect a nine-to-five, normal daily schedule from you. I’ve never expected that from you.” As of now, Dream just visits whenever he can, often at odd hours. Hob doesn’t expect he’ll be able to change that much, even now. He is still Dream above all else.

Dream doesn’t deny it, either. He looks down at their joined hands. “Would that it were otherwise.”

Hob rubs his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. “It’s okay. I needed some new excitement in my life anyway. Besides—” he gestures to the dream-iPad—DreamPad? Dream will hate that name, so Hob will definitely have to use it—“even if we can’t always have you, we’ll have your stories, hm?”

Dream smiles, then, a fragile smile. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Course it is.” Hob kisses his cheek. “We’ll figure it out, love. Don’t worry.”

“That is one skill you certainly do possess,” says Dream—in contrast, Hob supposes, to his lack of rational decision-making. “‘Figuring it out.’”

“My PhD is in Winging It,” Hob agrees. “Speaking of, though, we are going to have to have an actual talk about how not to have another ‘surprise’.”

“Yes,” Dream agrees ruefully. He seems quite embarrassed about it, actually, and Hob can’t help but hug him again, squeezing him tight, kissing his cheek and temple. Despite the shock and confusion, Hob really is happy, powerfully so. A baby, his and Dream’s baby. He can’t even imagine the possibility of it.

Dream squirms under the attention, but hums, seeming pleased deep down.

“A little baby Dream,” Hob sighs. “They will be a terror.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “And you think your influence has no effect on that?”

“I was a delightful child,” Hob protests.

“Do not tempt me to draw proof to the contrary from your dream records,” Dream warns.

“You’ll be a terror,” Hob says. “‘No, Da, I definitely didn’t cheat on that exam,’ ‘Mm, that’s not what your dream at 2:34 am indicates.’”

“Precisely,” says Dream. He sounds quite proud of himself, really. Little nightmare.

Hob kisses him again, on the lips this time. Yes, they will definitely be absolute terrors, the both of them.

But it would be boring otherwise.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Peaceful Midnight Stroll - Jade

Author Notes: So this is for @briarvalleyarchives "Summer Shoreline" event! Despite having only been to the beach like once this fic came together so fast. I wasn't listening to anything specific while writing this fic, but I did listen to "By The End of The Night" by Ellie Goulding while editing/polishing so that might have leaked into the fic. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ romantic

Word count: 1004

There were probably a great many who would question your sanity for going on a stroll down the beach long after the sun had set with none other than Jade Leech. But it was quite enjoyable, really. Walking along, collecting seashells, and chatting with the infamous vice-housewarden of Octavinelle about everything and nothing all at once

You’d exchanged stories from your childhood and discussed the different things each of you had faced upon leaving your home. Him, adjusting to the land and you, to magic, as well as a whole new world. Literally.

There was comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one who’d been quite so out of your depth when you’d first appeared at NRC. And, honestly speaking, the idea of the usually poised Jade floundering was rather amusing.

Unaware of your slightly mean-spirited but amused thoughts, Jade laid another shell in your palm. He glanced at you, tilting his head inquisitively as he met your gaze, “I do believe I’ll take this chance to enjoy the ocean since I am quite so close to home….. Would you care to join me?”

Ever polite, whether it was feigned or genuine, but Jade’s words brought a smile to your lips even as you shook your head. “No… Swimming, or even wading in the dark, just seems oddly risky when it's happening in the ocean.”

At your words, an amused and perhaps slightly mocking smile started to work its way onto Jade’s face. The young man pressed a hand to his chest as he leaned slightly closer, his yellow eye glimmering strangely in the darkness, “My, you need not be concerned about being carried out by the tide or any other such issues. You are with a merman after all.”

As he finished, he grinned. Letting his too-sharp teeth glint ever so slightly in the gentle moonlight. But you couldn’t say you were surprised. Jade took a certain delight in the discomfort of others when that discomfort stemmed from either his own or his brother’s harassment.

You just shook your head, though. Perfectly used to this behavior by now simply from having spent so much time with both Jade and Floyd. 

You grinned at him and leaned slightly closer, your voice dipping into an almost conspiratorial whisper, “I’m pretty sure you being a merman just makes it all the more risky with the whole drowning sailors schtick and all.”

The amusement that flickered across his face at your reasoning was gone in a flash as his face became a perfect mask of faux hurt, “What a hurtful stereotype that is…. You don’t trust me?”

It was amusing to hear him, of all people, say such a thing in that soothing voice of his with such a picture perfect face. He was practically made to catch people unawares and lure them to a potentially watery doom. 

Because despite his good looks and charming voice, Jade really was more like a malicious siren than some fairy-tale prince.

And perhaps that realization was why there was little hesitation in your voice when you responded with crossed arms and a perfectly blunt tone, “No. Not totally, at least.”

He chuckled at your words as he leaned back out of your space, smiling at you all the while. But it was true. You didn’t trust him not to tease you or harass Grim.

Jade was perfectly likely to mess with you if you were to get in the water, just as he was perfectly likely to watch others' antics without even offering to intervene simply for the sake of his own amusement. So, in many ways, despite your fondness for the young man, you didn’t trust Jade.

But then, to be fair, in many other ways, you did trust him.

Despite your words, you knew that if you were to actually join him for a nighttime swim, he wouldn’t allow you to come to any harm, just like he would never let you come to any real harm in any other situation. 

Similarly, you’d known when you'd accepted his invitation for a relaxing stroll on the beach that you’d be perfectly safe, even if it was long after dark and it was just you and him. The only real risk you ran was the ever-present chance of Jade teasing you.

All told, you could trust Jade when it mattered, and that showed in how you let him get so close. Close enough that it sometimes felt like there was a little bit more to your relationship than just friendship.

Few others had seen you sing poorly in the hallway, even though, in all truth, the only reason Jade had been privy to that was his penchant for walking quietly. Similarly, few others seemed quite so capable of perceiving what mood you were in or what you needed simply by spending a short period of time with you.

But in the end, what Jade didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and for right now you were comfortable with the proximity you currently had with him. 

Close, but not touching. Trusting, but not fully willing to give your heart away, no matter exactly how fond you were of him.

And Jade was nothing if not patient.

He smiled, obviously pleased with your reaction to his previous statement, as a single word fell from his mouth from where he stood just in front of you, looking like something out of some form of illustration from a book with the way the moonlight sparkled on the dark tide that flowed beside where the two of you stood.

“Good,” The word was punctuated by an enigmatic smile that curved across his face as he held out his hand in a silent offer. Almost like he already knew what your response would be. 

And maybe he did. Because, as easily as breathing, your hand slipped into his. A smile on your face as you let him lead you along further while the two of you continued about your idle but peaceful midnight stroll along the beach.

[tenjiiku]

21 : only

The chime of the shop rings with prominence. You already know who it is without lifting your gaze from your newspaper.

“Darling, love of my life, fire of my heart,” The man sings — an annoying, sickly sweet tone — his volume increasing as he glides his way to the front reception desk, “The machine is broken again.”

You cough, adjusting your newspaper. He is so abnormally tall his hair is all you can see from your periphery. Why he presents himself in such a way you never want to know.

“Then go to another laundromat,” you murmur quickly. You have grown accustomed to dismissing his outlandish behaviour. It is a second instinct at this point.

“Nah. I wouldn’t receive such service anywhere else — you are special, you know? One of a kind.”

You choke a little at his hoax of his compliment, “You make me sick.”

A large hand puts your newspaper down. You allow it, only because you wanted this interaction to end. Even seated on a swivel chair, elevated to its highest position, you have to crane your head a little to meet him in the eye. You see yourself in the reflection of the dark glasses he cunningly chooses to wear inside.

When you scowl he returns it with a cheshire grin.

“Thank you. You’re too sweet.”

“What do you want, Satoru?” You do not use his last name or any honorific to address him despite his age. He was older than you by a few years — but certainly did not act the part — so you do not think he deserves your respect. Your host father told you he does — something about his being from a prominent private school as an educator, which you cannot possibly fathom being the truth. But only in front of you is Satoru Gojo an inane, odd man with a need for clean, dry-cleaned clothes that, for some strange reason he has conjectured in his equally baffling mind, only you can provide.

“You.”

The wrinkle that had formed between your brows drops in less than a second. This was the typical routine. You would get annoyed — and he would get a sick kick from that. You refused to be his entertainment, so, for once you decide to be the bigger person.

“My friend is a police officer. He is five minutes away,” you retort, not being the bigger person. Though actions did speak louder than words.

Satoru places his elbow on the desk. He has to bend his back in an uncomfortable manner to do so — and he leans his face on his palm which only makes the position and his stature appear more cretinous and acute.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry, do you know?”

“Go die.” (You are being a bigger person today only through your actions. Not your words, you quickly decide.)

“Can you let me buy you a coffee? Put me out of my misery?”

“Leave me alone. I will scream for A-chan.” (Your dog, sleeping peacefully somewhere in a corner near the dryers.)

“Awh,” he coos, tilting his head only more. You wonder if he has back problems. “That’s vulgar. I thought you were a good girl.”

At this, you flounder. Fisting your hands together, you rub at your forehead. Satoru possessed the putrid ability to irk you like no other. You look down at your textbook — you were on chapter five, studying deadlock before he came — and it was certainly fitting given his arrival.

“I am. For people I can tolerate.” You retort, monotone to not please his sadism.

He smiles anyways and leans forward, gazing towards where you look — a few sheets of loose-leaf paper with your begrimed writing. You can catch a glimpse of his azure coloured eyes through his lashes from this angle. At first they scared you. It was an utter oddity to you — you had seen nothing as strange from all your years tending to this run-down laundromat. People who came and went were not as nearly as fascinating as Satoru Gojo’s eye colour, unfortunately, but that was not to say they were not as interesting. Odd characters entered every now and then considering your laundromat being less than 5 metres away from a graveyard — which only begged the existence of Satoru all together.

Perhaps he was visiting someone every time he came. You liked to make stories of customers who you would encounter. That was Satoru’s because you could not think of anything else.

You never asked, he never said. This was how it went.

“What’s all this?” He questions, his tone softer than usual. You feel his eyes travel to your right shoulder, making you self-conscious.

For a second you think he knows of the pain you have been feeling there.

You shake your head of the plausibility.

“Homework,” you reply, curt and straight, adjusting your posture in your seat as a sudden wave of bashfulness has overcome you.

“For what?”

“My operating systems class.”

Satoru coos — treating you like you are some sort of stray cat when he is the one encroaching on your property. “Sounds hard. You’re real smart, then?”

You look up, mouth falling into a line as you mumble a small, “Yeah.”

You want this conversation to come to an end. But Satoru liked to season his prey and you were not an exception. You remember encountering one of his students once — you think their name was Megumi — who had told you to steer clear of Satoru if you wanted your sanity to remain intact. It was solid advice, the only possibility it did not cover was Satoru forcing himself in front of you no matter what turn you took.

“You have to give me something to work with here,” he moans dramatically.

You take some money from the tip jar and hold it out in front of him as an incentive.

“I’ll pay you ¥800 to leave me alone?”

Satoru takes the money, but he doesn’t leave.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” He sneers at you. You crack your shoulders and decide to get started on the problem at hand because at this rate you will never finish your homework.

Walking towards the washers, you start speaking, not looking behind you to see if he is following because you already know he is.

“I don’t have time for this. Which machine isn’t operating?”

For once in his life, maybe out of the glory that overcame him from getting the upper hand on you once again, he complies.

“Third washer on the left, near the door.”

You walk towards it. Satoru stands next to you. His clothes float in a puddle that has formed within the washer — a drainage problem. Taking his clothes out of it, you rinse the soaked water in the sink and place them in another washer. If he chose to use half his brain he could have solved this himself. But after observing his smiles from your periphery and through the reflection of the glass door you come to realize he is enjoying himself.

An hour comes and go. Satoru talks your ear off at the reception even as others come and go. He puts his wet clothes in the dryer and folds them when they are finished, into a duffel bag.

When he stands in front of you, silent for the first time since his arrival, you know he is about to leave. You always give him a nice goodbye.

“Time for your weekly departure? Please do not bring clothes stained with blood to be dry cleaned next time. Mother almost fainted last week and is growing suspicious.”

Satoru smiles at you which lets you know that he understands your joke. He is handsome but he is nothing of your world, you realize. He only ever exists within the four wall of your parent’s laundromat and will only ever smell of floral detergent. It was better this way, you think.

“Awh. You’re worried for me?”

Your lips lay flat and you look down at your textbook.

“Have a nice day as well,” he murmurs, low. It catches you by surprise. When you lift your head up, he is already gone.

The pain on your right shoulder has stopped when the chime of the door opening and closing rings.

You pretend to ignore it — the feeling of his eyes and the growing aches surfacing within you — and go back to studying.

.

Satoru waits five minutes after he has left you to acknowledge his student following him. He stops near the abandoned phone booth he had found you sulking in two weeks prior — curled up with your legs tucked to your chest — pondering on about nonsensical things.

It was not the worst of the side effects you possessed after leaving your clan years ago and starting a new life with the Kobayashi’s at their laundromat.

“Megumi-chan, care to join me?”

He smiles when he sees his student scowl at him and he only continues to walk as he catches up.

“Why do you insist on pestering her? You know she will never remember. Yaga-san will be mad,” his student asserts after meeting his shoulders

Satoru does not answer right away. He recalls a fragment of a memory from his childhood. He had been doted on since his birth. You were a refreshing rarity, always hoping for a life greater than the one you were subjugated to — the daughter of a lowly maid, a normal girl for all purposes yet never treated as such. He remembers a small conversation you shared for less than a minute when he was only eight years old and you were five — how one day you wanted to be able to go to Hokkaido for the ice sculpture festival during the Winter. It was such a naive thing to aspire for. A cruel irony, really, that you still remained the same after so many years.

A snowflake falls towards Satoru’s shoe, but never quite graces its body.

Slinging an arm around his student, he answers brazenly, “I don’t know. I suppose I’m bored these days. Entertain me.”

[distortionmewtwo]

(@ask-the-fogbound-serpent) Vourison tilted his head at Giratina in thought, listening to what the other legend had to say before nodding, "I suspected that to be the case." Vourison nodded, "With how Ultraviolet spoke about you, even before this reveal, it was clear to see you both cared for each other very much. You are not the first Giratina to change for the better over many, many years, and I am sure you will not be the last."

"As for this conflict with your siblings, it really is a damned if you, damned if you don't, huh? On one hand battling outright would cause untold destruction and mayhem, but on the other simply doing nothing would jeopardize you and your entire realm. While I don't approve of dragging others into this conflict, I do understand your reasons as to why. Luckily, these choices may even work in your favour in an, albeit, unintentional way."

"Just as you have formed a close bond with Ultraviolet, so too it is possible your siblings have formed similar ones with their champions. As legends I often see many grow grand and arrogant in their power and isolation, so by taking on the care of another you all may have unintentionally humbled yourselves in a way. Perhaps it is possible for this conflict to be avoided, or for another, non-lethal compromise to be made. If you so care for your son, and they also feel the same way about their own chosen ones, then there is hope."

The very world around them was beginning to shift as Ultraviolet's distress grew. The mewtwo was just as connected to the realm as Giratina was at this point, his years spent in it changing his very biological makeup to better suit it. So as he became more and more upset, the world responded in kind. Giratina and Invert shared a concerned look.

"You've explained," UV hissed, tail lashing. "Well and good, thank you for that. But what now?? They think I am your Champion and they aren't going to just let this slide!! What if Palkia's Champion comes for me next??"

Ultraviolet, please-

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!!" He held his head in his hands. "I am apparently nothing but a pawn in the game of the Gods, I am allowed to be upset--!!"

Ultraviolet. The wyrm stared helplessly at him, his son, terrified and trembling and looking so very small. He didn't know what to do. He'd never meant for things to turn out this way. My boy, you are so much more to me than a pawn in the game of the Gods. You are my son, and this has not changed, nor will it change. This I swear to you. Once you may have been saved for a purpose- but you were raised as mine. I have never felt so deep a love for another being as I have you. Of course you are allowed to be upset, this I do not dispute- but please, do not doubt how high of regard I hold you in.

Ultraviolet listened but did not respond, hugging his arms close to himself- and it was this that broke Giratina's resolve. The wyrm had the ability to use Transform, as many of the legends did. He did not like to use it often, as changing his shape was an uncomfortable sensation, trapping so much raw power in a smaller vessel- but right now he could do no less.

Meeting him on his level, being able to truly look his son in the eye- it felt right at this moment in time. The shift in form surprised Ultraviolet, who shrank back a little, staring at him, but he didn't move away. In this form it was so much easier to see the expression on the face of his father. The regret and sadness and above all, sincerity. None of this had come from a place of malice- at least, not beyond the original pact. Giratina had found himself with emotion and feeling he'd never dealt with before then, and had floundered trying to keep his status quo. Whatever was going on- UV could see that his father loved genuinely loved him, clear as day, and this more than anything quieted his breaking. Silence dominated the conversation then, both beings looking at each other, not knowing what to say.

Then Vourison spoke. A comforting presence for UV, and a surprise for Giratina- but a welcome one. He would not dispute the words of the ancient Rayquaza either. The great mediator who held such deep wisdom- Giratina was glad for his input, and his words rang true. As he finished speaking, the two looked back to each other.

"Katharsis did seem to hold Dialga in a place o-of love as well," Ultraviolet said slowly. "At least, that is how it came across to me..."

"They always were the more reasonable of my siblings." Giratina exhaled. "And while it is difficult to see my sister forming such a bond with any being... it is possible she too may see reason, if both myself and Dialga no longer wish to put our chosen through this."

"S-So..." Ultraviolet looked up hesitantly. "There's a possibility, then... th-that I shan't have to..?"

Giratina reached out to place two of his hands on UV's shoulders. "We will speak to them," he said firmly. "The gods shall meet, and their champions will bear witness. We shall see this pokemon my sister has claimed, and we will attempt to call this entire thing off together. I will summon my siblings to Earth for this, and we will work through it."

Ultraviolet stared at him, shaking like a leaf- and then he finally broke down for real, moving forward and falling apart as the arms of his father came around him. Invert too came forward to offer her own comfort. Forgiveness, that would come later, should it come at all... but for now there seemed a way out for the little family, and this was something they could hold onto and hope for.

Asks are open again!

@ask-the-fogbound-serpent

[withered-blossoms]

Obey me scenario...

WARNING: this is a very long ramble so if y'all don't like rambles, skip this uhh post. Also it's quite self-indulgent. Actual ramble under the cut. Also this is not proofread so there may or may not be typos.

Where the MC goes by a different name depending on who they're introducing themself to.

Like for example, the MC obviously has a birth name right? (Like one assigned to them by their parents and is used by family and human classmates). But what if they chose to use a nickname/alternate name to introduce themself to future/current acquaintances?

Like if I were to use myself as an example, let's say that my "actual/parent assigned name" is Blossom. And so my human realm classmates and family call me "Blossom". But for online friends and acquaintances/friends I make in future, I go by "Bloss"? (It could also be because they don't speak my language and usually pronounce it slightly inaccurately which IS NOT their fault but it would make their lives easier to have them refer to me as "Bloss").

And MC gets so used to using their "other/nickname" that when they get kidnap transported into the Devildom and they gotta state their name, by habit their nickname slips out of their mouth? And technically speaking it is indeed a name they go by? Maybe because they feel more comfortable using this nickname instead of their "actual/real name"?

Now we know that Diavolo hates being lied to and has the power to tell lies from truth to back it up, so do you think he'll think the human is lying deliberately? Or would his aura turn more threatening and serious and ask for their real name? I personally feel like I'll piss all of them off if I were to meet them for the first time. Why? Take a look below to see how the convo would've gone:

Diavolo: Welcome to the Devildom. I am Diavolo, the Crown Prince. How should we address you?

MC: Please call me (insert nickname) (absolutely natural but debating whether or not it would count as a valid answer)

Lucifer and Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: ... That is not your real name now is it? It would not do you any good to lie. (Aura probably turns threatening but his customer service smile is still present, most likely assuming that MC has a dishonest purpose for concealing their "real name" aka name given by parents)

MC: Your Highness, with all due respect, that is indeed a name. I have fulfilled your request, and it is indeed one that I go by and have gone by for quite a while now. ("You only asked for a name to refer to me by, you never asked for the one I was given since childhood." Would probably be added in their head. It would not do for them to spit something so...snarky and potentially rude out. They are in unknown territory and an unfamiliar environment after all. Holding their tongue here would be more advantageous)

Now assuming that they accepted, should MC decide to reveal their name.later, would it bring a lot of trouble paperwork-wise? They've been writing this name on all of their assignments, their Devildom ID displays their nickname, and all of the official documents are signed with this alias. Or perhaps when they've grown fond of the sacrificial little lamb, they will allow them to suddenly change their names via a short notice to all academic lecturers? As for their Identification Card and personal documents, the card will be updated/changed (either via magic or by getting a replacement) and the documents will have a note/update stating their real name?

Of course, if the MC is comfortable with only their newfound family (the constituent characters are naturally chosen by you, my dear reader) using their real name, then those with said honour will guard it with their lives. For those that are prone to slipping up, they will perhaps flounder a little and give the excuse of confusing the sheep with someone else (yes Mams my darling I'm looking at you). For Levi I think he'll continue to refer to MC as Henry anyways but then again it depends on your personal HCs.

For those in the cast but are not chosen to be the MC's super close ones, perhaps they'll be a little confused should anyone slip up while they are around. Cue more floundering until perhaps it gets out, but you know the cast's mouths are shut, so tightly they'll put gorilla glue to shame.

So worry not, your real name won't be slipping out to the RAD public. Despite what I mentioned about Mams earlier, you know he will guard your precious name like dragons with treasure. And he'll do admittedly one of the best jobs out of the cast.

Now assuming that they do not accept that reasoning, it could go two (for what I can think of now) ways.

1) MC continues debating.

Given Lucifer's displeasure, he would most likely chide the MC for their rudeness and Barbatos would, with a chilly smile, advise them not to use up all their chances. The brothers on the sidelines may whisper a bit between themselves but will not interfere since it's not like they'll save a random human stranger from their Prince and risk being on the receiving end of the wrath of the Fantastic Trio (if you know where this is from, you know *wink wonk* sorry, couldn't resist using this .... Interesting group name.)

When it gets to a very bad point where MC is perhaps dishing out their reasoning with possibly an annoyed tone by now, they will have to bet or hope. Hope that Diavolo would be magnanimous enough to allow them to use their alias down here and accept their alias as the name they go by since he can confirm the genuine discomfort they have with using their "actual name" and spot nearly no lies in the reasons they offered.

But if Lucifer and Barbatos happen to get a little iffy before their Prince gets mad, MC will have to bet that they would not jeopardise this exchange program by hurting them in any way or exchanging them for another human.

Or for those beyond the fourth wall, get rid of this exchange student they've selected, either out of rage or annoyance or for convenience and success, reset the timeline or make another timeline the sole reality and pick another exchange student. Basically MC will have to bet on their value and importance to the exchange program and bet that Diavolo would care enough about having stains or guilt/reminders on what he had done to the MC (if he were to smite them or wipe them out for the safety of his kingdom cuz he suspects that they have ulterior motives for hiding their name) because most royals don't.

But then again they have magic so should things come down to it they may just erase MC's memories and send them back to the human realm unsuspectingly, choose another human and move on.

Also, who's to say that Diavolo didn't have Barbatos look through the timelines and pick the one which goes most successfully before bringing MC down? (Yes, fanfictions expanding on the aftermath of Lesson 16 have been getting to my head and giving me a lot of ideas and scenarios)

Diavolo is the Crown Prince. Acting ruler of a whole kingdom. There is no way he would be willing to toss an uncertain factor into the equation without knowing the future. If I had the power / someone with the power to look into the future freely without much repercussions (on my kingdom that is and preferably the person but the priority is on the kingdom), I would use those powers to see how my plans go, especially since my citizens and my kingdom, my responsibility and the burden I have to shoulder alone, albeit sparingly.

But ultimately as a ruler, one's responsibilities come before one's emotions. It's the price they have to pay for the immense wealth and safety they were born with. With so many lives resting on his hands, there is no way a ruler as benevolent but also smart, intelligent (terrifyingly so), cunning and manipulative (I mean that as a compliment cuz those are what a ruler should have, to use it for good ofc don't get me wrong) as Diavolo would not take "cheat a little" and look at the answer to the question (like those reference/practice question books that yall's parents buy for you when huge examinations are near. Just me? Aight then—)

Anyways, the route honestly depends on what y'all choose/think/headcanon. I'm just adding a drop into the ocean in hopes that any writers will write a piece on this or perhaps expand on my idea or something. I would do it but I don't trust myself to serve or deliver, not when I know some in the fandom have repeatedly left absolutely no crumbs. (Yes I'm a Gen Z I just don't use slangs often don't @ me—)

2) MC begrudgingly accepts the use of their real name.

That's all for now, may add more/ a Part 2 of inspiration decides to pull a Truck-kun and isekai me somehow.

[ladylilithprime]

24 + 58, whatever configuration of Sam, Dean, and Castiel being involved in the mess you like

24: Soulmate AU

58: Accidental Eavesdropping  

AND HERE I thought angels didn't have soulmates!"

That was Dean's voice, tense and biting. Sam felt the urge to cringe away from the tone if not the words and made himself be still to avoid drawing attention. When his brother was in a mood to use that tone of voice, no attention was good attention.

"Normally we do not," came the response, predictably in Castiel's voice, though the angel (former angel? Angel once removed?) sounded far more frustrated than Sam had ever heard him. "We are also not usually human while still retaining our memories as an angel. My situation is, once again, unprecedented."

"And you're sure it's not Jimmy's soulmark?" Dean pressed. "Or, hell, a tattoo he might've gotten before you took up residence?"

"Jimmy's soulmark disappeared from this body when he was Reaped during the Apocalypse," Castiel huffed. "And he did not have any tattoos. Nor did this mark appear until after Metatron precipitated my Fall!"

Well, that definitely sounded like it was a soulmark.

Apparently Dean agreed, because he changed his approach a bit. "So why come to me? I'm no good at this kinda touchy feely crap; that's more Sam's wheelhouse than mine."

Rude. Accurate, probably, but still! Sam was ready to just keep pretending to be asleep now just to force Dean to man up and deal with the emotions for once, except he didn't think that would be fair to Castiel to make him flounder just because he had gone to Dean first.

"Dean, please at least attempt to have some compassion," Castiel snapped. Actually snapped! Stunned as he was, Sam almost missed the rustle of fabric before the former angel growled, "Look!"

There was a heavy silence that lasted for six of Sam's heartbeats - not that he was counting - before Dean mumbled, "Oh." And then, "Shit."

"Exactly," Castiel agreed in grim tones, leaving Sam even more confused than before.

"But I thought he had--"

"A ploy on the part of Azazel's agent," came the almost nonsensical reply. "But you see why I chose to speak to you about this, despite your ineptitude."

"Hey!" And there was Dean's offended, audible pout, because God possibly literally forbid that anyone point out Dean's emotional constipation besides Dean himself, and that was almost enough to distract Sam from--

"He still mourns her, even nearly a decade since losing her," Castiel said, sober and quiet and agonized. "It would be the height of cruelty to show him proof that it was all a fabrication of Hell, especially when I have no proof that the mark will remain when I am able to reclaim my Grace."

"So what, you plan to just.... keep it covered and never make skin contact with Sammy while living here with him?" Dean demanded, sounding angry again. To be fair, Sam was starting to feel a bit angry himself, because what the hell, Cas? Even with the unfortunate (heartwrenching) truth that Castiel having Sam's soulmark implied about his bond with Jess, that wasn't something you just hid from someone you lived with whom you also claimed to be a friend!

"I have no intention of hiding it, or of avoiding Sam!" Castiel growled back, and suddenly Sam was battling down a very different sort of flush of heat, because that tone was doing things to him. "I was hoping, perhaps erroneously, that you would have insight into how to break it to him gently that his true soulmate is not only a former angel who may one day soon cease being human and thus no longer have a soul, but also one who has previously betrayed him heinously and would completely understand if he would rather have nothing to do with me than be bound to me for all eternity!"

"Well if you're going for gentle," Sam found himself saying into the silence, carefully sitting up from the couch and peering over the back at his brother and, apparently, his soulmate, "maybe don't have a loud argument three feet from my head while I'm trying to nap?"

"Sam," Castiel breathed, eyes wide even with the painfully pronounced bags under them from lack of sleep, before shooting a panicked look in Dean's direction.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, his voice higher than usual and looking torn between caught out and gleeful. "So, uh... you heard--"

"Most of it," Sam broke in, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. "And I'm still tired, so having any deeply emotional conversations should probably wait until we're all better rested."

He got up, prying himself away from the comfortable warmth of the couch by reminding himself that it was only warm because of his body heat and that his bed would be more warm and comfortable. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and took Castiel's hand, stroking his thumb over the skin as the former angel's breath caught and Sam felt the tingle of the gray and black feather on the inside of his left arm presumably filling with true color for the first time.

"Just so there's no misunderstanding, now or later," Sam murmured, looking down into celestial blue eyes, "Eternity with you sounds a lot better than the rest of my life without you. So don't run away on me, okay?"

"Okay, Sam," Castiel murmured, staring up at him in wonder even as their hands shifted, fingers entwining.

"And if that's at least temporarily settled," Dean said, throwing up his hands, "I say you two go get a room and we all go get more sleep!"

"That," Castiel said dryly, "is the first useful suggestion you have had this entire conversation."

[lynnarang]

Bathtime

"My lady, is that not enough for today?"

The young noblewoman's focus was pulled from her swordsmanship training by a polite, feminine voice. Sunlight glistened off individual beads of sweat as the muscular woman caught her maid staring at her. Although her maid's expression was neutral as always, the intensity of her stare and the slight blush on her cheeks gave away her true thoughts. When she caught her lady's eyes, the maid quickly broke eye contact and stared downwards, although whether this was out of subservience or embarrassment was unclear... The noble liked to think it was both.

"Very well, I can stop here for today. Am I to assume you have already drawn a bath?"

"Yes, my lady."

Putting away her practice blade, the noble wiped the sweat from her brow and grinned.

"Lead the way then."

A few minutes (and some very helpful hands stripping her bare) later, the noble breathed out a sigh of relief as the warm water washed away the hard-earned sweat of her training. Behind her, the maid was hard at work, washing out her lady's long locks. The noble couldn't help but admire her whenever a sidelong glance would allow it. Even with her head bowed downward, the maid's chestnut bob cut framed the soft features of her face beautifully. Desire welled within the noblewoman, desire that was unbefitting of either of their stations, but desire she was keen to indulge all the same.

"Would you not join me?"

The single questioned roused an instant response from her maid, first in the form of a wide-eyed blush and then in the form of a stammered denial.

"M-My lady that would be inappropriate--"

"And why is that? I hardly think it suits a lady of my status to have an unbathed servant."

The noble smirked, watching her maid flounder for an excuse that would save her. Too adorable...

"W-Wait... Could you be perhaps... Teasing me right now?"

Okay, that was too much. The noble burst out in laughter while her maid's mouth warped into a heavy pout.

"My lady! You shouldn't tease me so brazenly. What if I... What if I were to get the wrong idea?"

This prompted the noble to quit laughing, instead leveling her servant with a serious eye. Even naked she cut an imposing figure, one that demanded attention and authority.

"And what idea would that be?"

"That my lady desires more than a mere servant could provide..."

The maid met her mistresses gaze, nerves still apparent but eyes full of something more than her words could convey.

"Well then... Perhaps one day, you'll be more than a 'mere servant', and once that day comes..."

The two women's fingers interlaced with one another, their faces now only inches apart.

"When that day comes, I would be honored to share a bath with you."

------------------------------------------

"My lady, it really isn't necessary. This one can take care of itself--"

"No. You need to conserve your energy, you took a pretty big hit back there."

The vampire cut her doll off mid-sentence, hands currently hard at work scrubbing out the grime that had caked into its limbs. For as much as her doll fussed, it had barely been put back together after its last fight. It shouldn't be moving more than was absolutely necessary. And yet, the doll remained willful.

"At the very least, my lady should be taking a bath as well. She smells filthy, it ill suits her."

"Guess I need to wash your mouth out too while I'm at it."

Something about the conversation made the vampire's thoughts flashback to centuries prior, to a time when their lives where much simpler than they were today. She smiled at the bittersweet memories of times lost, tenderly working her way down her doll's body.

"Have I earned that honor yet, I wonder..."

The doll perked its head, bewildered.

"Honor? It was unaware its lady still had any of that."

Despite its neutral expression and cruel words, the vampire could still sense the same feeling in its gaze from all those years ago. She knew it didn't remember everything from back then even half as well as she did, but being with it like this, it was hard to feel lonely in her memories. Muscular arms now bearing the weight of hundreds of battles embraced the doll from behind, prompting a response that was both familiar to the vampire and unusual to the doll.

"M-My lady?"

Despite everything, the doll's blush was just as intoxicating now as it had been hundreds of years ago. Scratch that, it had aged like fine wine, and only now could the vampire appreciate its true worth.

"I've changed my mind. May I join you in there, my dear servant?"

There was a brief flicker of confusion on the doll's face, until it was washed away with a subtle nod and a warm smile.

"This one would be honored."

[broodwolf221]

happy friday! i said i'd send you tethraghast, and here it is :3 from the "as said by cassandra" prompt list: perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

hehehehehe oh this was FUN. im love them 😭also what a fitting prompt @dadrunkwriting 636 words cws: none

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve already read that part.” She winced as Varric approached, resisting the urge to slam the book shut and try to hide it. Useless.

“That is true,” she admitted simply. He snorted, then sat down on the bench beside her.

“You’re actually rereading it? Seriously?” Under the apparent shock she swore he sounded a bit flustered, glancing over at him. His eyes were wide.

“It seems so,” was all she said, beginning to feel a little more playful than defensive. 

“Seeker, it’s really not that good of a story.” He sounded almost beseeching—a bit dramatic, even for him.

“You underestimate yourself.” She turned the page, although she hadn’t really been reading since he approached. “As usual.”

“Excuse me, I think I need you to say that again.”

“You have so many layers, Varric, I could write a book about them.” She gave up the pretense, closing the book and setting it on her lap. “A false humility to cover your ego, except the ego itself is false. It’s all false. Layers upon layers.” He blinked, looking genuinely surprised. She pressed her advantage. “You are a capable fighter, a good strategist, and a skilled writer. Even when you think you aren’t.” She tapped her finger against the book on her lap, driving home her point. “Your skill with wordplay is remarkable, but it is not surprising—you couch yourself with half-truths and deflections as a matter of course. It’s all parabole and hyperbole. Nothing straightforward.”

“I— um—” She smirked, watching him flounder for the first time. He cleared his throat and glanced away, fingers curling into the edge of the bench.

“I think the most sincerity I’ve ever seen from you was… during our fight.” Her voice dropped as she recalled that time, her anger. It had deepened the wedge she had already driven between them before, when she had Varric brought in for questioning.

“You were scary, Seeker,” he muttered and she winced again, nodding.

“And you were angry.” Now he nodded. “And hurt.” He hesitated now, then sighed and nodded again. She was only watching him out of the corner of her eye, trying to not intrude.

“We both were, I guess,” he pointed out somberly. 

She stared down at the book in her lap. This was her fault—she had brought this up. She had twisted this moment. “Varric,” she began quietly, feeling his attention shift back to her. She steeled herself, wondering why this was harder than facing down a dragon, and turned to meet his eyes. “I should… That is, I have been meaning—”

“It’s okay,” he began but she shook her head.

“It is not. I am sorry, Varric.” They stared at each other in silence for long moments. He looked away first, laughing a little.

“Shit. Never expected to hear that from you.”

“Nor I,” she admitted a little sourly, smiling when it made him laugh again. “There is much that I regret. I should have apologized long ago—I should have thanked you when you stayed to help. That was brave. I should have—”

“Seeker,” he interrupted, turning to face her properly, drawing a leg underneath himself. “Cassandra,” he said, her name startling on his lips. “That’s enough. Perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.” She turned to face him with a frown, wondering if she had upset him, but he looked…

She did not know how he looked.

Not upset, certainly.

But she did not press, and eventually he smiled at her and resumed his position—but she noticed he had closed some of the distance between them, his shoulder brushing her arm. She did not move away. And eventually she opened the book again, feeling his attention lingering on her even as she lost herself in his words and world once more.

[roguelov]

Yes, hi, it's me. Thanks for your response. Got me smiling at my phone and all, and I'm less depressed now. Heh.

"Dream continued to smile at you. Just one day at a time, he thought. He would have you soon enough. You would soon understand his desires for you, his sweet guest."

It'll be a shame if she didn't show up at all for the entire evening and night. It'll be a shame if she's so skittish, that she's decided to hole up at the quarter that she's been provided with. He thought she'll be late, but nope. She's just not showing up. She doesn't know why she's like this, she reasoned that there's just something wrong with her, so she made the genius decision of just staying in and hoping it'll all just go away by its own. What will the Dream Lord do? Decisions, decisions...

Interesting anon very interesting 😌 (Part 1 is here!)

You worriedly glanced at the clock in your room. You winced internally. Nearly a few hour later since you agreed to meet Dream.

Why didn’t I go?

Why would I go?

A knock cut through your panicked thoughts. Without needing to answer it, you knew who stood on the other side.

Don’t answer it.

Answer it, have we not offended him enough?

Pushing down your fears, you shakily grasped the door knob and opened it revealing the Dream Lord. His expression was neutral, and somehow that was worse. You couldn’t understand how he felt, or what he was thinking behind his icy blue eyes.

“Dream, uh, hi,” you meekly said.

“You didn’t come.”

You winced, “Ah, right, um, apologies. I - I … uh … I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

You groaned internally. His concise tone, and quick responses left you floundering. “Right, well … it’s getting late perhaps I should turn in -“

You began to close the door, however, Dream swiftly grabbed it. He pushed it further opened, and took a small step now hovering in the doorway.

You whimpered quietly. “Dream, please, I’m sorry for -“

“I told you you needn’t apologize.” He stepped closer to you, closing the space. “I simply wish to understand. Why? Why did you not come?”

You quickly tore your gaze away from him. “I - I don’t know.”

He tilted your chin, forcing your eyes up on him. “You do know.”

You swallowed.

His thumb barely brushed over your bottom lip. “These lips do not lie, so tell me: why did you not show tonight?”

I was scared. I couldn’t hope to think you see me in such a way. I am only a guest, a temporary visitor.

“I -“ you licked your lips, trying to find your voice - “I am unworthy of your attention.”

Now, that was the whole truth. He was Dream of the Endless, a being of such power and status. You, however, was a lowly fae only here to strength the bond between your realms.

Dream’s lips thinned. Anger flashed over his features. You flinched, and nearly stumbled back. But, Dream still had a grip on your chin. He closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. When he opened his eyes again, the icy anger was gone.

“Oh, my sweet little guest,” Dream whispered, drawing you closer. “You are so much more.”

Your breath hitched.

His hand moved, cupping your cheek. “If anything I am unworthy of such a kind soul such as yourself.”

Your eyes widened. “No -“

“Yes.”

You shut your mouth at his commanding tone.

His eyes scanned over your face. “Please, let us put tonight behind us. Join me for breakfast in the morning.”

He wanted to say ‘you will join me’. He wanted to demand, he wanted to enact his kingly rights, however he needed you to come to him. He will not scare you off, not anymore.

“Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

He smiled. Good girl. He leaned in, kissing your forehead. A warmth spread over your chest. “Wonderful, I will see you tomorrow, little one.”

[queenharumiura]

Neo try Rokudo Mukuro when he sent Chrome to Namimori

[Neo Game Time] || @thehandworld Requested character: Mukuro

-

After such a bothersome ordeal of his own body being hijacked by his very anti-thesis, Mukuro had been granted his freedom from Vindice. All by the correct processes, mind you. He hadn’t escaped this time, but a capable man doesn’t speak on his methods.

Should he ever be caught once more, there were ways for him to escape from vindice, and it was only a matter of the time investment he was willing to spend.

Chrome was one such method that he could utilize to free himself from his prison, albeit with conditions and limitations. Something about her drew him in, like their souls called out to one another in ways that he couldn’t quite explain even with his knowledge of various lifetimes under his belt.

Free, but not without new worries. Chrome had changed once he’d been released, and no doubt over something worthless to be concerning herself over. She could use him just as he used her, as the benefits of her usage far outweighed the efforts of his meager efforts in sustaining her life. It was such a useless worry she was fretting over.

The gem in the rough he’d been polishing was purposefully dulling herself over what, guilt? Pity? A sense of displacement? All she had to do was assert herself and find her place, to make herself useful to him and his goals, but instead, she grew weak. Her talons ripped from her feet.

Perhaps, that anti-thesis of his would have bemoaned how the ‘weak’ Tsunayoshi Sawada had softened his Chrome to a worthless nothingness… but he wasn’t so close minded. He knew better than that.

Yes, Tsunayoshi Sawada was a weak sap, a spineless twerp of a gnat who had gotten in his way, but he had a positive influence on Chrome. She had polished her talons while by his side. She’d learned to steel her nerves to better hone her skills to be of proper use to Mukuro. For Chrome, seeing the camaraderie and the trust everyone had in each other would do Chrome well.

She needed an environment to truly retrospectively look into herself to acknowledge the warrior inside her that he wanted out of her. As loathe as he would be to speak the words into the universe, what Chrome needed was not to be found by his side, but by Tsunayoshi’s.

May her heart find the respite it needed through the trust and friendship the Vongola 10 lead by Tsunayoshi Sawada could teach her. Once on the mend, she’d realize that though it was comfortable by his side, her heart truly belonged with the Kokuyo gang. She may stand allegiance alongside her friends, but that did not mean she had to forsake her family.

Both sides of the same coin exist concurrently if the coin were to land on its side. A precarious harmony that his Chrome could no doubt balance.

Why don’t you go ahead and look after her? I detest the current Chrome.”

“What are you saying!? But Chrome has come this far believing in you…”

Mukuro had allowed her to come this far with him on his journey believing in her potential, and yet she was floundering due to some inane worries that she needn’t have been struggling over. Well, it was a show that she too was growing.

She was her own person and she did well to realize that for herself. This journey was hers to make without his involvement. It was her choice to make to decide whether she continue their journey together, or she sets onto another path of her very own.

“Please, take good care of her.”

Take care of her in his stead, as a favor for his services up until now. Chrome will be returning to his side soon enough.

How willing am I to pick up character: Very VERY low. For one thing, I don't like Mukuro lolololol. He's also a pretty complex guy and all the nuances is tiring to keep track of, I think. I already have enough with Daemon, who I often forget I even have to begin with. Besidessss plenty of people within the fandom do a good job with Mukuro, we don't need me joining in the fray.

Other notes: I'll add just a few of my thoughts and inspirations as for how I chose to write this out. For one thing, Mukuro does care in his own ways the people in his group. They are very useful to him, and the majority of them are extremely loyal to him for one reason or another. Each one likely has their own story to tell, but the fact remains: they're all useful. He's stated in canon how that he's willing to throw others aside or to use them for his own goals and it does come off as very heartless, and it is! YET! He still has heart. There are moments that he shows his heart, like sacrificing himself to allow the other two (Chikusa and Ken) to escape Vindice.

He wanted them to get out for one thing, but another thing is also that he has his methods. He will have ways to circumvent him being locked up. They are more useful to him out in the real world than stuck in prison alongside him. It was factually a better idea to have them be out of Vindice than for him to run off by himself, forsaking them. He was willing to use their bodies until they quite frankly couldn't be usable anymore in the Kokuyoland arc. His goals are their goals, as they are that loyal to him. What he wants, THEY want. As his goals are their own, it's a collective. He does what he must to achieve what THEY as a WHOLE want.

It's important as they're a part of a whole in the grand scheme of their ideals: to prevent the second coming of the experiments that they've been through. If he has to use himself to achieve this goal, he would. He's ambitious as much as he is somehow selfless when it comes to the goal of wanting no other children/innocent to be sacrificed to tyranny, evils, and or abuse.

Mukuro does tend to look at people in categories of how useful they are to him or his goals, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He certainly does, but his goals are the ultimate. So as long as they don't get in the way of his goals, he can spare some care and concern for them. Ultimately, just as they all trust in him, he trusts in them. All parties understand that if he's going to be using them, it's NEVER for just ill-purposed malintent. He has a purpose behind it, and it is for something they can agree with. Chikusa and Ken would gladly offer themselves up to ensure that the experiments could never happen again.

For the sake of their traumas and their friends who they lost in the experiments, they NEED to do away with the mafia who would harm the innocent and break families apart. Mukuro would only ever act if it was for that goal. He wouldn't sacrifice them if there was any other way to go about it. Mukuro does not want to make any other needless sacrifices out of his comrades.

As for the thing about souls calling out to one another, it's due in part because they parallel Daemon and Elena. Just as how Elena brought Daemon into the Vongola, Chrome is that lynchpin that connects Mukuro with the Vongola. She is that connecting bridge, and it's through her influence that he can find some respite from the troubles and traumas that he's been through. She is like a resting place for him to remember the small bits of good that exist in the world.

She is that part that he's missed since his harrowing childhood traumas, while he is that part that she should have harnessed when being dealt so many bad cards in her life. They complete each other by complimenting the other. They heal and help the other grow in ways they couldn't without the other.

That said, why did he let her go? Chrome was too caught up on things (as Reborn states canonically). She couldn't really accept seeing Mukuro in person. What use was she then if he didn't need her? Did she have any right to accept his help? Of course she did, and yet, she refused it. She was learning to become her own person. To not JUST be Mukuro's Chrome. She was going to change, and Tsuna's side is a great place to learn that in peace and safety.

He was trusting Tsuna's good influence and his compassion to allow Chrome to come to terms with her feelings and her own ambitions. He trusted that just like himself, she'd form her own strong convictions and return by his side as not just her own person, but his warrior that he could wholeheartedly place his faith in.

That is my inspo behind how I wrote this.

[apphiarothowrites]

Ahem *taps mic* hi it’s been awhile

When Marco was 14 fresh into puberty and with the grace and elegance of a new born giraffe. Rakuyo seeing the kids self esteem at an all time low decides to take him to a fortune teller.

A love fortune teller to be precise. The teller in question is no one of real consequence. Her readings are accurate as the concept of astrology. The only real consequence of this whole adventure is that marco becomes quite the romantic, after being told he is destined to have a prince ask for his hand.

Now this statement may or may not be true but to a 14 year old who looks a tad odd and hasn’t quite grown into his feet. It’s a rather nice thought to have. So Marco gets his fortune read, Rakuyo gets to be a brother and they stop for soba on the way back to the moby. So a good day all in all.

Now unbeknownst to Rakuyo that little session saved marco quite a bit of grief as the teenager would not fully grow into his looks until his late twenties. (Something that would still bother him greatly, even with the fortune) but even having the idea that one day a “prince” would ask for his hand, ask him to be theirs entirely. Was a bandaid (perhaps not the healthiest but you work with what you got) so marco grew, laughed off jokes, kissed people in dim rooms and did many other things (that were far less hygienic in dark alleyways.) Avoided most mirrors and did his best to bury negative thoughts under paperwork.

His parent visits in the fall of his 31st birthday. Pops swoons over the flowers they present to him before snatching marco away for the day. “You are quiet dove.” They remark, a ring laden finger tracing the teacups rim. Marco opens his mouth and closes it, biting his lip. His parent waits as he sips at the lukewarm tea. “I-“ he flounders again. His parent takes his free hand olive skin clashing with his darker tone. “You are not ugly dove.” They say.

Marco gives a humorless chuckle “I think you’re obligated to say that Ada.”

“Marco.” Their voice is firm, “do you think I am ugly?”

“No.” And it’s the truth his parent couldn’t ever be ugly, hooded lids and thick lips, thick red scars cover both cheeks paired with hauntingly blue eyes. “It’s just-“ and how can he say it? ‘I look like the best parts of you but somehow they came out wrong on me’

They sigh, “you spend too much time listening.”

“It’s good to listen.”

“Yes but you must also talk, dove.” They squeeze his hand. “Come with me to the north.”

“What why?” Marco wasn’t even born in the north despite his parent being born there.

“You spend too much time on that boat, you must use those wings to fly.”

Unfortunately for marco his parent is if nothing else very good at arguing and winning the argument. He leaves 3 days later his father giving him a hug and his parent a kiss on the cheek.

The north is… loud, that’s the first thought marco has. The wind howls constantly. His parent quickly rods him off his clothes (minus the sash) and dresses him in northern fashion. He pouts when they pull out a maroon jacket. “It brings out your eyes dove.” But wears it anyway. Despite the chaos he settles somewhat the island he currently resides is part of a chain. It’s called spider… something. He wasn’t paying too much attention. A year passes, he turns 32 and celebrates with his parent dancing at a festival. Halfway through he expresses his concerns about the amount of staring. His parent laughs “dove you are the most handsome man these drunks have ever seen, relax. Go dance.”

All in all it is a very good birthday.

A week before his departure. (The moby called apparently they are not as adept at paperwork as he is) marco flies through the snow. He couldn’t tell you what he was expecting when he landed. It certainly wasn’t a man wearing a gaudy feather coat

It certainly wasn’t a man wearing a gaudy feather coat and bleeding out from multiple bullet wounds. A pink hat slipped from the man’s head revealing a shock of platinum blonde hair. Marco isn’t sure when he moved or what he said (he assumes it was some version of ‘are you ok’) but by the slack jawed expression in the blondes face it could’ve been an incoherent mess. The man then smiled slumping further over the small treasure chest, a burnt out cigarette falling from his painted lips. “Hey angel.” He slurred, “mind giving me a hand?”

I have nothing I can say, this is so fucking cute (and relatable, how'd you fucking manage to hit every one of my own personal insecurities with marco's self-image issues, hello awkward body type issues how are you today)

fihkjfndas

[downbad4yoongi]

Closer

For @bangtanwritershq June Big 3 Event:

pairing: Namjoon x Jimin

WC: 2571

au/genre: mutual pining, fluff, smut,

rating: MA

Tags/Inclusions: fountains, praise, outdoor sex

My big 3: sun (Capricorn) - member(s): minimoni, moon (aries) - where/how you (or they) met: dinner in Rome, rising (Gemini) - cliche trope: mutual pining

Thank you to @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, and @heathfritillary-blog for betaing for me. Thank you @hisunshiine for the banner! <3

“I didn’t know you became telepathic?” 

Jimin jolts upright from his slouched position against the bar, his booted foot thudding hard on the tile as he straightens up.

He glances confused over his shoulder at his uncle, “What?”

“You’re staring at that boy. I figured you were reading his mind to take his order.”

Heat flushes up his neck and cheeks, “I–I was not staring!”

His uncle shoots him a withering look, “Boy, you were staring so hard I’m surprised he couldn’t feel it.”

Jimin huffs, snatching his server pad off the counter. He spins on his heel and heads out onto the restaurant floor. For the past few summers, Jimin has been spending time in Rome, enjoying time off school and working at his Uncle Kyubok’s trattoria.  He enjoys the more straightforward, slower time of Rome in the summer. However, this summer has been delightful, a feast for his eyes, ever since a tall Korean man stumbled into the eatery.

There are very few Koreans roaming around Rome. So, this one has caught Jimin’s attention. If his nationality wasn't enough, he would have surely noticed him due to his height. The customer is tall but not tall enough to be intimidating. His size pairs well with his demeanor. The stranger is pensive; Jimin has startled him from his deep thought several times this summer as he has enjoyed various delicacies. 

Even now, the man sits forward with his chin propped on a giant fist, deep in contemplation. Jimin approaches from behind, enjoying the broad spread of his shoulders under the stretch of the man’s thin cotton t-shirt paired with dark denim shorts and open-toed sandals. 

Damn, his legs go on for days. Jimin admires them the most when he wears shorts, exposing his thick thighs. 

Jimin gives a little shake of his head, snapping out of his ogling. He braces himself as he approaches the table, sure that this will be another incident of him accidentally startling the man. He steps into the customer’s line of sight with a bright smile pasted on. “Would you like another coffee? Perhaps some dessert?”

Like clockwork, the man’s shoulders jerk roughly, the movement is enough to jolt the small table he is sitting at. As much as Jimin tries, he cannot stifle the giggle that manages to escape him.

The man’s deep, dark eyes snap to him as his cheeks flush a light red. “What? What’s so funny?”

Jimin purses his lips, swallowing the remaining laughter before answering, “I’m sorry but you are. I don’t mean to be rude, but this is probably the fifth time this has happened over the past few weeks.”

The man huffs, “Well, maybe make more noise as you approach, and this wouldn’t happen.”

Jimin’s brow flies into his hair, “You’re in a trattoria. You should expect servers to approach you pretty regularly. It’s kind of part of the deal.”

The stranger flounders, failing to come up with a good retort. “Yeah. Um, I guess you are right.”

“What’s your deal anyway?”

The man’s brow furrows, unsure if he should take offense, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you always lost in thought? You’ve been coming here for weeks and constantly staring off into the abyss.”

“Oh,” the man’s cheeks flush an even deeper red, “I am just still processing the art I finished viewing at one of the local museums.”

“Are you an art critic or something?”

“Or something,” he muses, “I’m an Art History student studying abroad. I’ve been visiting different museums to soak in the culture.”

Jimin hums under his breath, “I’m not even surprised. That totally fits your overall vibe.”

“I have a vibe?”

“Oh, definitely.” Jimin exudes confidence as he utters the statement with finality.

“Are you going to share what that vibe is?”

Jimins lips quirk up on the edges, “Sure, why not? Can I get a name first, though?”

“Namjoon.”

“Well, Namjoon, your vibe is definitely an old soul philosopher. Quite Descartes-like.” Jimin taps his notepad against his palm. “You constantly give off ‘I’m contemplating the meaning of life’ vibes.”

“Well, um–”

“Jimin.”

Namjoon tips his head toward him. “Well, Jimin, I want to be offended, but I can’t disagree for some reason. I do tend to contemplate a lot the meanings behind things, words, movements…” He trails off, waffling his hand in the air as he sits back. Namjoon’s thoughts scatter as the most captivating giggle tinkles through the air. Warmth spreads through his chest as Jimin covers his mouth with his pad, the server’s eyes morphing into crescents. Namjoon swipes his tongue across his lip, “What? What’s so funny?”

Jimin shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head. “Nothing at all. You seem very intelligent. Wish I could stay and talk more, but as you can see—” he motions to the eatery around him, “I’m rather busy.”.

“Oh, yeah.” Namjoon picks up the hint, “Right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you,” he glances down at his menu before pointing at something randomly to order, “I’ll have this.”

Jimin quickly jots it down and, with a slight bow, takes his leave. 

Despite the numerous places Namjoon had planned to check out during his time in Rome, he finds himself returning to the same local trattoria around the same time each day. All in hopes of interacting with the handsome server who has managed to draw him out of his shell. These interactions have quickly become a highlight of his experience, and he finds himself greedy for more. And now he has a name,  Jimin. 

Namjoon walks into the trattoria, unusually busy at this time of day, and snags a table just as a couple vacates. It hasn’t been bussed yet, but he doesn’t mind. He quickly gathers the dishes into a small pile to one side and waits to see Jimin again.

It’s not long before Jimin pushes out of the swinging kitchen door, his arms laden with food. He watches Jimin’s eyes sweep the space pausing on him when he notices the new guest. Jimin’s smile causes Namjoon’s lips to raise upward in greeting.

It takes a bit of time, but Jimin is finally able to make his way over to Namjoon’s table, which has since been cleared of the dirty dishes, and a fresh carafe of water has been delivered.

“Wow! So sorry about that. We got this sudden rush, and of course, today two of our staff are out,” Jimin gushes as he stands over Namjoon, who for once wasn’t startled at his approach.

Namjoon waves his hand, brushing the other man’s words off. “It’s alright. The wait wasn’t too bad.”

“Yes, it was, but I appreciate the lie.”

Namjoon laughs, the laughter growing as Jimiin mirrors his joy with his own giggle. Jimin grips the back of the chair across from Namjoon, but another guest catches his eye and waves him over. Jimin can’t hold back the sigh that escapes him. 

Before Jimin can apologize again, Namjoon interjects, “It’s alright. I’ll just have my usual. Go and help the other customer, he seems very insistent.”

With a grateful smile, Jimin heads off to see what the man needs. Unfortunately for both of them, Jimin is kept occupied for the remainder of Namjoon’s meal time, and before they know it, Namjoon is getting ready to leave. 

Jimin turns the corner and sees Namjoon standing, pulling bills from his wallet to leave on the table for his meal. Namjoon looks up just in time to see Jimin’s face fall as he rushes over.

“You’re leaving already?”

The taller man nods, “Yeah. I have a couple of tours I scheduled, and I need to head out.”

“We barely got to talk today,” Jimin pouts.

“Well, actually…” Namjoon trails off, ducking his head before taking a deep breath and pushing on, “Would you want to meet up outside of your uncle’s trattoria? Maybe enjoy a meal together?”

Jimin’s brows fly into his hairline, “Like a date?”

Namjoon blushes as he rocks on his heels, “Yeah, like a date.”

Jimin’s grin is blinding, “Definitely.”

Jimin walks along the cobbled pathway to the ristorante, where he told Namjoon to meet him. It’s one his close friend became obsessed with when he visited last summer; the restaurant specializes in fresh pasta and seafood dishes, which is a place Jimin is excited to share with Namjoon.

The heels of Jimin’s boots slow to a stop as they near the entrance when he sees Namjoon loitering nearby. He runs this lip through his teeth as he smooths his hands down the front of his dark green shirt tucked into a crisp pair of black jeans. 

Jimin is feeling confident in the style options he chose for tonight. His self-assurance was buoyed by the color tones he chose that perfectly complemented his chestnut locks and gold-toned jewelry. He admires that Namjoon picked similar options that highlight his best features.

Namjoon is leaning against a light pole out front of the ristorante, and he’s dressed in a park of dark denim pants with brown boots and a casual beige blazer over a crisp, white shirt. Jimin can’t help biting his lower lip as he takes in the wide width of the man in front of him; the blazer is doing everything in its power to get him on his knees and beg Namjoon for mercy. 

Unfortunately, Jimin’s heel snags a loose stone alerting Namjoon to his admirer’s presence, cutting his ogling session short. 

Namjoon’s face lights up when he sees Jimin. Jimin notices the tall man’s gaze rake over him from head to toe and back again. He can’t suppress the confidence boost blooming within at the involuntary sound of appreciation that echoes from the cavern of Namjoon’s broad chest.

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” Jimin initiates closing the distance between them, leaving only a hair's breadth of separation between their chests.

Namjoon shakes his head emphatically, “Late? You’re not late at all. I was anxiously early.” The pink tinge of his cheeks expands to envelope his neck as he ducks his head.

“Anxious?”

“How could I not be? I’m meeting the man I’ve been secretly admiring for weeks for dinner, and finally, it's without the distraction of other diners.”

Now, it’s Jimin’s turn to duck his head in embarrassment. “I’m not even sure how to real– I don’t know how to respond to that adequately, but just know the feeling is mutual.”

Namjoon’s plump lips spread into an ear-splitting grin, “I’ll take it!” He jerks his head toward the lit entrance, “Want to head inside?”

Jimin bobs his head bashfully and allows himself to be pulled along once Namjoon gathers his smaller digits in his much larger grasp.

With dedicated time to focus on each other, dinner flies by in a flurry of porcelain plates ladened with delicious food and glasses of wine. As the bill is being settled, Jimin suggests a walk through the surrounding area. Namjoon eagerly agrees, scooping Jimin's hand snuggly into his as they head back into the crisp night air.

Settling alongside each other, they enjoy the other's presence and the gentle noise of the evening. Jimin knocks his head against the taller man's shoulder, "Did you know Rome is home to over 2,000 Fountains? "

"Oddly enough, I did," Namjoon answers sheepishly.

Jimin giggles, "Oh yes, how could I forget you're the man with an encyclopedia of useless knowledge for a brain."

Namjoon balks, his cheeks tinging a deep pink. He's quick to regain his wits, though. "Hey, it was this encyclopedic brain that drew you in."

"Touché." Jimin leans into Namjoon, his other hand grabbing the man's thick bicep. "There's an adorable alcove near here with one of my favorite fountains. Want to check it out?"

"Lead the way, my kind sir." Namjoon grins proudly when that earns a peal of giggles from Jimin.

Gripping Namjoon's hand tighter, Jimin guides the pair down a few more winding streets. Moments later, they can hear the tinkling water before the alcove, set aside away from foot traffic, comes into sight. Namjoon is immediately able to understand why this is Jimin's favorite.

The fountain itself is moderate in size and relatively simple in design. The area surrounding the pool of water steals Namjoon's breath. A serene garden is spread out around them, lush greenery and delicate flowers are abundant. The pleasant slice of peace is surrounded by a ring of trees that creates the perfect halo to highlight the bright full moon above.

"Voíla!" Jimin announces. 

"Wow! This is indescribably beautiful, Jimin." Namjoon circles around the fountain and looks closely at some nearby plants. He glances up, and his breath is stolen once again by the gorgeous man before him.

The light of the moon perfectly highlights the graces of Jimin's visage. Namjoon can’t help but be drawn back to the side of the man he’s been adoring for several weeks. Standing this close, Namjoon can only barely hold back a weak moan by biting his lip. He wants every moment of this ingrained into his memory forever.

Namjoon may not have been as silent as he had hoped, as Jimin startles when he finally notices how close the other man has returned to stand beside him. He jerks back in surprise, and Namjoon’s firm grip flashes out to grasp his upper arm and prevents him from stumbling any further,

A breathy, “Thanks,” leaves Jimins lips right before Namjoon’s own plush lips crash against his. They cling to each other as lips parts, tongues tangle, and breaths exchange places. Jimin can feel nothing and everything all at once; he feels ecstatic and floating in the aether while simultaneously feeling the individual grip of every finger as he clutches Namjoon’s broad shoulders. 

Shadow and light intertwine as their own limbs find similar paths to weave them tighter together. Sanity and space fail to intervene as they claw at each other, fingers unfastening pants and tugging turgid cocks free of their confines. 

Desperate pants of air fill the space between them as they cede control to each other in a fraught plea to be closer. Agonized moans are torn from throats as Namjoon’s giant fist encircles both of them, providing them with needed relief.

Jimin tears his lips from the other man’s, his head falling to Namjoon’s shoulder with a sob as short, firm jerks of his cock send him further spiraling into delirium. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” Jimin whimpers with each catch of his glans against that of his lover’s. “More, fuck more!” Jimin begs feverishly.

Namjoon grunts, snapping his hips to increase the friction as his grip tightens around their lengths. His lips mouth Jimin’s ear as his free hand manipulates the diminutive man’s heavy sac, applying just the right amount of pressure. 

Breaths pass before Jimin tosses his head back and cries out into the open air, “Yesssss!” His hips jerk as he comes fast and hard, spilling across Namjoon’s pumping fist.

“That’s it, baby, yes, come for me,” Namjoon encourages, his movements speeding up as he chases his own completion, which comes within moments of Jimin’s and joins the stickiness already coating his hand.

They collapse against each other, panting. Thrills of pleasure randomly spike through them as they come down from their mutual high.

It’s Jimin who finally breaks the quiet with a soft laugh, “Imagine what could have happened if we had gotten out of our own way sooner?”

[doppotranslations]

Monthly △- First issue ~ Special Edition! Haunted House and Rumors of Aliens - Part 2

===============================

Hypmic ARB in-game event story (Gentaro, Doppo, Jyushi)

Recording Link: https://youtu.be/Xxy5ucataVo?si=BXXuVKmkRIrBLvTV (in case you wanna read along with the in-game voice lines and sound effects :D)

Warning: mentions of suicide

===============================

Chapter 1

[At a café]

Gentaro: Let’s go ghost spotting together! Jyushi: Eh… What's that supposed to mean…

Gentaro: Oya, thee knoweth not of the meaning of ghost spotting? The mysteries that science is not able to explain- Jyushi: No no no! It’s not that! I meant why would I have to go ghost spotting?

Gentaro: You’re of the Nagoya division, are you not?

Jyushi: Y-yeah, why…?

Gentaro: Were it for work, were it for play, you came all the way to Shibuya after all.

Jyushi: Huh… well…

Gentaro: You could be my “travel companion”, or so they call it.

Jyushi: Travel companion, no way! Please just go by yourself!

Gentaro: Honestly speaking, I asked thee to come with since going by my lonesome sounds pretty scary, doesn’t it?

Jyushi: I don’t know, man! I’m scared too!

Gentaro: The words of my “travel companion” would suggest he’s fairly compassionate. Would you not show me some of that compassion?

Jyushi: I-I… I’m sorry to say this but I’m not gonna follow anyone I don’t know… *goes to the cashier* Check please!

Store clerk: Yes. … 980 yen please.

Jyushi: Right away… (Umm… my wallet… did I drop it or something… ?????) A-ahaha…

Store clerk: ?

Jyushi: (N-no good… At this rate I’ll get roped into dining and dashing…

Gentaro: Perhaps I shall help this young gentleman pay his bill. Here…

Store clerk: Yes, thank you very much.

Jyushi: U-um… thank you so much…

Gentaro: It just looked like the right thing to do here… You know what they call it, right? Compassion was it?

Jyushi: You’re a nice guy, aren’t you…

Gentaro: So, now that you say that, it’s your turn to return the compassion is it not?

Jyushi: You’re totally not a nice guy, dude…

[At the park, at night]

Doppo: *sighs* (Today’s client was so awful…)

[Flashback]

Business partner: Working in sales is not at all suitable for you. First of all, you know that a salesman is supposed to smile, don’t you? What’s with that dead flounder looking face on you? Are you making fun of me?

[End of Flashback]

Doppo: (...a dead flounder is not that bad… but what the hell did he mean “my breath smells like giant anteater shit”?! Has he been going around sniffing giant anteater shit or what?! That goddamn lying bastard!!) *sighs* … (Well, whatever… For times like this I’ll just have a drink…) *opens beer can and drinks* Ahhh…! It was about time!! This is the best! If it weren’t for having a drink every now and again, I don’t think I could put up with this work… (Wait, living only for canned beer is totally pathetic… Yeah, that’s right, it only feels good because I’m so pathetic, doesn’t it…ahh… I…I…I…) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! Fuck these staaaaaaaaaaaars!! Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, if you’re so great then get me the hell out of hereeeeeeeeee!!!

???: That wish, I heard it.

Doppo: Huh…?

[A UFO shows up and an alien comes down from it]

Doppo: AHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!

Jupiterian Terusepo: I am what you fools would call, a Jupiterian. Individual name is “Terusepo”. I am going to take you to Jupiter for human experimentation.

Doppo: H-HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! *runs away*

Jupiterian Terusepo: You won’t escape me that easily.

Chapter 2

Gentaro: Hmm…Yoyogi Park sure is rather eerie at night…

Jyushi: Uhh… It’s so dark and scary… What kind of spirits come out here…?

Gentaro: …Long ago, a dull salaryman who committed suicide in this park was seen running night after night on this road… Even though he’d taken his own life, to this day his spirit is still running to his office at full speed so as not to be late for work…

Jyushi: S-so creepy…

Gentaro: Well, I was only kidding…

Jyushi: Uhii! I h-heard running…

Gentaro: …

Doppo: *runs to them* AHYAHYAHYAHYA!! YOU OVER THERE HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! Jyushi and Gentaro: AAAGHHHHHHHHH!! UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! *run away*

Doppo: W-why are you running awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!

Jyushi: Don’t come here, sir!! Please just go to heaven!! Gentaro: Namo Amitabha Buddha…

Doppo: W-wait up please!!

Jyushi and Gentaro: !!! Doppo: *pants*

Gentaro: You are Kannonzaka-san…

Jyushi: Eh… for real…!

Gentaro: Why were you in such a hurry?

Doppo: It’s bad! I mean it!! There’s a Jupiterian named Terusepo who wants to experiment on us as if it’s cattle mutilation!!

Jyushi: I don’t get that at all…

???: Found you!!

Gentaro: Eh?

Jyushi: W-what’s that?

Jupiterian Terusepo: Hoo, it seems the number of text subjects has increased. I shall take them all with me then.

Doppo, Jyushi and Gentaro: AHYAHYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! UGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Gentaro: What in the world is that!!??

Doppo: I-I-I-I d-don’t understand it at all myseeeeeeelf!!!

Jyushi: I only came here to eat a parfait, what the hell did I get myself intooooo!!!??? At times like these I gotta call Kuko-san! *calls Kuko*

[At Jakurai’s house]

Rei: Heh, this is quite a nice house isn’t it, just as you’d expect a doc’s place would be.

Kuko: Pardon the intrusion. … ah-, I’m so hungry…

Jakurai: I’ll prepare dinner at once, please make yourselves at home in the meantime.

Rei: Yoo, what was that about your dad?

Kuko: I more or less told him about that house… though I don’t know if he’ll make it in time.

Rei: I guess we shouldn’t take it lightly, huh… That spirit looked pretty strong, didn’t it?

Kuko: …sure did. After all, it was probably one of the strongest vengeful spirits I’ve ever met.

Rei: Even so, it looks like my devices didn’t pass at all, that makes me sad, man…

Kuko: If that kind of toy worked then we wouldn’t have such a hard time with this, would we?

Rei: Hey now, don’t be so hard on me…

[Phone is ringing]

Kuko: Mm…? *answers the phone* What is it, Jyushi? I’m busy now-

Jyushi: I’m in trouble, dude! Like for real!! There’s a Jupiterian named Terusepo who wants to experiment on us as if it’s cattle mutilation!!

Kuko: Aah? I don’t get what you’re saying at all, dude…

Jyushi: Either way it’s really bad! You gotta help us Kuko-san!!

Kuko: Even so, I’m in Shinjuku right now.

Jyushi: Eh!? I’m in Shibuya right now! Help me, dude!

Kuko: I don’t understand it at all, but my help is needed here too you know. For the time being, just come to the address that I give you!

Rei: What is it?

Kuko: Um, looks like something else came up. Another weird thing was encountered over in Shibuya. I called them over here.

Rei: Hehe, weird thing like an alien attack, hm?

Kuko: I don’t get that part, dude.

Chapter 3

[Out in the city, at night]

Doppo: *pants*

Gentaro: *pants*

Jyushi: *gasps* We’re still being chased!!

Jupiterian Terusepo: You can’t escape!

Doppo: Ahyahyahya!! T-this is bad! At this rate I’ll just end up turning into space debris!!!

Gentaro: …! It’s a taxi! Let’s get in to escape!

Jyushi: Y-yeah!

Doppo: H-hey m-mister! Open the door!!!

[Inside the taxi]

Driver: Where to, sir?

Gentaro: *pants* For now just get us out of here, please!

Driver: Eh?

Jyushi: Uwaaaa! It’s getting closer! To Shinjuku! Please take us to Shinjuku, sir!!

Driver: G-got it…!

[Outside the taxi]

Jupiterian Terusepo: A Jupiterian never lets their prey escape. I will absolutely catch them! *teleports*

[Inside the taxi]

Doppo: *sighs* W-we somehow managed to escape…

Gentaro: …what in the world was that monster?

Jyushi: E-earlier you said something about it being Jupiterian…

Doppo: I d-don’t understand it myself… It’s just what the creature said: that it’s a Jupiterian named Terusepo…

Gentaro: Normally I would say you are making fun of me, though if that were true I would not have seen it with my own two eyes…

Jyushi: S-so aliens really exist… that’s scary…

Gentaro: Hmm… Whether aliens are part of the occult or not is surely something that is up for debate, is it not…

Doppo: If it’s an alien we’re talking about, then it will surely use some science fiction device to spot our location…

Jyushi: *gasps* I don’t wanna have to meet a creature that scary a second time…

Gentaro: Now that you put it that way, Aimono-san, why did you want to head to Shinjuku?

Jyushi: Because Kuko-san told me he’s currently in Shinjuku…

Doppo: Kuko…? …oh, Nagoya’s Harai Kuko, right?

Gentaro: The more the merrier. For now it would be best to join forces, yes. [In front of Jakurai’s house]

Doppo: Eh…? This is Sensei’s house… Why are we here…

Jyushi: I don’t really get it… This is where Kuko-san is…

Doppo: I had no idea Sensei was on such good terms with Harai-san that he’d have him over at his house…

Gentaro: …First thing’s first, let’s go inside.

Jyushi: R-right…

[They ring the doorbell]

Jakurai: Yes?

Doppo: Oh, Sensei… Good evening… It’s Kannonzaka…

Jakurai: I’ll hear you out. Come in.

Doppo: Thank you very much.

Chapter 4

Gentaro: Pardon the intrusion…

Jyushi: Pardon… Doppo: Pardon the intrusion… and I’m really sorry to bother you so suddenly… Sensei…

Jakurai: Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind.

Kuko: Hey, Jyushi, what’s got you so freaked out, dude?

Jyushi: W-well… We got attacked by a Jupiterian…

Kuko: Ah? Jupite-what?

Jyushi: I don’t understand it well myself, but that monster is currently chasing us…

Rei: Heh…? What’s with this Jupiterian you’re talking about?

Jyushi: W-well…. you should probably ask Kannonzaka-san…

Jakurai: … Doppo-kun, what’s this about?

Doppo: W-well… I don’t really know myself… it’s just that I was at the park when suddenly a Jupiterian creature came from the sky…

Rei: Ahaha!! I don’t get that at all, it’s way too funny!

Doppo: It’s not funny at all…

Jyushi: H-hey… Kuko-san, how about you? Why are you here?

Kuko: Huh? Oh… that… I got called in to take care of another monster and then it chased us to here…

Jyushi: Another monster…

Gentaro: Oh? Another monster, what in the world could that be about?

Rei: Truth is… well…

[Timeskip, while Rei explains]

Doppo: Huh? A house that no one who enters makes it out alive…?

Jyushi: Uhii…

Gentaro: …normally I would not believe that, however we are in a similar situation, are we not… Is it really true? That Sayako phantom really possessed Jinguji-san over here?

Kuko: Yeah… I was surprised to see it was a vengeful spirit… At this rate, that geezer will surely… be dead soon…

Jakurai: …...

Doppo: T-that… That can’t be true, right?!

Kuko: Naturally, I wish I could do something about it… but right now I am not capable of exorcizing it…

Jyushi: Not even Kuko-san can do it…

[The lights suddenly go out]

Everyone: !!??

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A…

Jyushi and Doppo: UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! UGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Rei: Looks like the lady came back for more.

Gentaro: Unbelievable… This kind of thing can’t be real…

Kuko: Tch!! It’s already here…! Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Jakurai: Ack…!!

Kuko: Begone!!!

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Kuko: UOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Jakurai: Harai-kun!!

Rei: Hehe…! Looks like it’s time for little old me to bring out his best!

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Rei: Uwo!!!!

Jyushi: *gasps* It’s way too strong, man!!

Gentaro: How are we even supposed to face such a foe…

???: Found you…!! *breaks in* … That sure is a large amount of specimens. If I take all of them in then it will surely turn out to be a glorious experiment.

Everyone: !!??

Kuko: What the fuck is that… ?!

Jyushi: *gasps* It’s here! The Jupiterian!!

Doppo: Ahyahya! It’s gonna abduct uuuuuuuuuuuus!!!

Gentaro: It’s a congestion of the occult…

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Jupiterian Terusepo: …There’s so many different life forms here. All of these humans will soon be mine.

Sayako: *walks up to Jakurai*

Jakurai: !?

Jupiterian Terusepo: *teleports between them*

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A?

Jupiterian Terusepo: Don’t get in my way. If you get any closer to my guinea pig I will exterminate you.

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Jupiterian Terusepo: Looks like you want to die. There’s no use talking to you, is it… *fights with the ghost*

Jyushi: Awawawa…

Rei: Hehe… A fight between a ghost and an alien isn’t something you get to see everyday. I’d surely make some good moolah if I could show this to other people…

Gentaro: This kind of paranormal sight sure did arouse my appetite for writing…

Doppo: I-is this real life…?

Kuko: That guy might just be our chance…

Jakurai: Chance… What do you mean by that?

Kuko: Monsters will be monsters after all… Them being enemies is a good outcome for us. Even if one of them survives, it should be weakened by then. If that’s the case then maybe we’ll manage to defeat it somehow.

Jyushi: I wonder if it will end well…

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Jupiterian Terusepo: GUGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! *vanishes*

Rei: The ghost bitch won, huh…

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Kuko: Lady! You’re all weak’n shit so you’re in no position to do that now! BEGONE!!!

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Kuko: !! What the fuck! Are we shit out of luck after all?!

Jakurai: Harai-kun, that’s enough… If you keep pushing yourself you’ll be done for…

Doppo: Sensei, you can’t mean…

Jakurai: It’s fine…

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

Kuko: Tch…!

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!!

???: THAT’S ENOUGH!!

Everyone: !!

Kuko’s Dad: BEGONEEEEEEEEE!!!

Sayako: A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A, A!!! *vanishes*

Rei: No way… Gone in one hit…

Jyushi: Hyeeeh…

Doppo: Amazing…

Jakurai: …

Gentaro: Who in the world is that…?

Kuko’s Dad: Kuko, you still can’t properly carry out an exorcism.

Kuko: Tch…

Jakurai: Thanks for coming in to save us.

Kuko’s Dad: …I’m not too familiar with the situation at hand, but you should do everything in your power to stay away from dangerous places like that one.

Jakurai: I deeply apologize for the inconvenience… From now on I’ll make sure to be more careful…

Kuko’s Dad: Kuko, let’s go home! I’m gonna have to give you an earful, you brat!

Kuko: Tch, as if I’m gonna listen to that crap!

Kuko’s Dad: Language! *hits Kuko* Kuko: Gah!!

Kuko’s Dad: Come on, get moving! *drags him*

Kuko: Let…me…go…!

The other five: …...

Jyushi: B-being a monk sure is tough, man…

[Flash to Kuko sleeping]

Kuko: Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz… *turns over* Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…Zzz…

Kuko’s Dad: That’s bad karma! *hits him*

Kuko: Gueh! The hell are you doin’ you damn old man!!

Kuko’s Dad: How many times do I have to tell you not to sleep in the main hall!? You stupid brat!! *hits him*

Kuko: Gyah!! Guooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!! What the hell is it?!

Kuko’s Dad: You have a visitor.

Kuko: A visitor?

Kuko’s Dad: Hurry up and go meet him.

Kuko: Tch… What a pain, who could it be…

[cliffdivingsblog]

Consume

Chapter 4 • 12k words • Rated E

A Melkor/Varda romance

One thing that has always both fascinated and vexed Varda about Melkor is how unpredictable he is. His moods as tempestous and ever-changing as Ulmo’s seas, his passions ignited as easily as his wrath.

Where his lingering anger at her has been simmering underneath the surface only a moment ago he is all insolent, relaxed amusement now she is the one annoyed at him. Fanning the flames of her ire only higher.

“We should do something about your hair. It is quite scandalously disheveled for the Queen of the Valar, ” he comments with a smirk, when she closes her soft, pale blue cloak around her carefully, making sure no sliver of skin shows as she did not slip on the diamond bodice Nerdanel gifted to her.

As beautiful as the garment looked on her, she cannot say she cared for the lack of comfort the gemstones pressing into her flesh meant.

She could summon up another dress of course. But a wild, reckless part of her is quite content with the exquisite thrill her daring attire provides.

“What admirable sense of decorum you posses, Belekôrôz.” Varda lets her eyes rake over his haphazardly fastened robe and the planes of pale skin it reveals. It seems far more suited for the bedroom than stepping outside. “If only you would apply it to your own behavior one day.”

He laughs, stepping closer to her, one raven eyebrow raising playfully. “But who would even look at me with your radiant beauty at my side? I am but a humble servant to your splendor, my Queen.”

“Flattery?” Varda scoffs rather inelegantly. “You think I am susceptible to that?”

His smile deepens as he reaches for her, pulling her against him. “Come here.”

She does not fight his grip although she knows she should, too preoccupied with the surprisingly tender way his fingers comb through her unruly red locks. “Really, how do you always manage to tangle it so thoroughly?”

“You tangled it.” She retorts a little petulantly, aware that somehow his hair stayed admirably presentable. She suspects he is using some dark magic to achieve that feat, the cunning bastard. Her eyes close in unapologetic bliss as he starts to massage her scalp, his touch sinfully relaxing.

For a while she allows herself to bask in the feeling of it all, their peaceful moment of quiet, his warmth and scent all around her, a tenderness in him she knew is there but did not really expect to ever experience again.

“So who of the two of you thought up your little game of deception?” Melkor’s voice is light, no indication he cares about the answer in his continuously gentle touch.

The illusion wavers only moments later, his hand upon her nape a little too forceful, the faintest hint of claws whispering over the sensitive skin there as he adds. “My brother?”

Of course he is unable to grant her even one single moment of lasting peace.

She sighs, forcing herself to stay relaxed and pliant, even if goosebumps rise on her skin. “It was never as nefarious as you make it out to be. He merely asked me to keep you company in the beginning.”

At the disbelieving scoff above her she adds, more than a little haltingly. “It was only when we… when we got closer to each other he suggested to … to let it continue since it seemed to give you a reason to stay.”

She is floundering, Varda realizes, both because she was never sure about Manwë’s true motivation, has never dared to probe too deeply, and because she knows her own reasons are far from pure.

She wanted it all. Then, and if she is truthful to herself, now.

Keep him. Indulge in this madness between them and quiet every faint whisper of caution that remains.

That is the reason why she agreed without any objection when Manwë suggested this deception. No more so, she did so eagerly.

Because it allowed her the illusion she could touch the darkness without any consequences, without ever having to rebel outright, without having to risk everything.

Perhaps Melkor is right to despise her for that. For always daring too much and yet never enough.

She was tempted. More than once. More often than she likes to admit. Sometimes she thinks she is tempted every moment of every single day.

“Stay and behave, you mean,” the soft whisper is at odds with his actions, his fingers playing with the fastenings of her cloak teasingly.

“That’s debatable,” Varda answers, resolutely rebinding every knot he tugs open to reveal the skin underneath.

“Well, how terribly generous of my brother,” his hands return to her hair, his voice crackling with sudden ice. “And you were completely fine with him whoring you out?”

“That is not what happened…” The cruel accusation sparks her own ire. “I came to your bed quite willingly.”

Varda realizes her mistake the moment his delighted laugh sounds out. “Oh believe me, I know.”

Maker, does he have to sound so insufferable smug about it?

Of course he has to. Sometimes she wonders if the sole thing in his existence he finds joy in is vexing her.

Besides destroying things.

[anxiouslyfred]

Dear Self Esteem

Summary: Roman writes to characters from fiction in an attempt to build his self esteem.

/\/\

Dear Barbie,

Life is difficult and I've no clue how you have excelled in so many areas. You constantly become your best self, or take control over a situation to resolve it and I'm faltering behind everyone.

I've tried so many times to reinvent myself in a way that will get me respect, that I'll be able to look in the mirror and believe I've done something great, but that either leaves me feeling like a fraud, or exhausted from the bouncing between a million different views none of which can I truly agree with.

I know I am a mere male in your wonderland of female empowerment, but even doing things to support my friends and family fail now and I feel simply lost.

For now I'll look to your films and dolls and try to find hope that if I keep creating and dreaming I will manage to find that wonderful tomorrow.

Yours dreaming, Roman

/\/\

Dear Rapunzel,

You are so lucky to live in a land of fairytales and clear villains in your life.

Some days I think half my family are villains, but others I know they are just people trying to do the best they can with the information and views that they have. Even when you're double-crossed you are able to understand and either fight the villain doing wrong, or bring them back to good with a song and kind words.

What do we do when right and wrong, good and bad are not quite as simple as that?

I simply don't know where I should look. There are no lanterns in the sky for me to chase.

Yours despondently, Roman

/\/\

Dear Dreamers

I know you are out there, watching Thomas's videos, sometimes joining in with them. You are what make this career we've formed so special, so wonderful. I know, I remember saying all those years ago that I was on a solo quest to love myself, but loving the people I create for is definitely a step in the right direction.

Thomas see all those wonderful creations you make based off our ideas and those our friends suggest to include in this series and I simply adore it all. You're such a creative company, and I just wish I could feel included among your ranks.

Yours in wonder, Roman.

/\/\

Dear Aurora,

Even the most wonderful dream must be woken up from at some point. I hope that yours was lovely, especially since you don't wake up screaming as people sometimes do from nightmares.

In all honestly, I've been retreating to dreams and trying to sleep more recently. Remy claims it's unhealthy, but life is a horror that I need safety from. Perhaps it's worse to simply be a part of a person, because even the agency I have over myself feels limited. Everything must be for Thomas and the life he deserves to have.

I'm not sure what that life is from all the views different parts of him hold, and as the dreams that are meant to motivate Thomas, that leaves me floundering. I wish I could flee back to a castle barely remembered from childhood. Perhaps I would find the answers or have an unknown curse destroy me there.

Or at the very least I could form one in the imagination, perhaps leave a message for Virgil or someone over what I'm doing. That will calm any worries they have at least.

Yours pondering, Roman

/\/\

Dear Aurora,

I usually don't write to the same character twice, but Virgil came after me.

He was angry at the very existence of this adventure and claimed that I don't get to duck out without saying why at least. He barely even acknowledged that it had to be true loves kiss to wake me up, let alone enough to confirm whether his love is platonic or romantic. I'd built in a knight who would save me after a while but he never got the chance to show.

I guess I can still find dreams in the waking world to bring me hope.

Yours hopefully, Roman.