#meg was there for me when i was single. meg was there for me during lockdown. thats a bond her and i will have forever

[sirpeppersto]

going to try running hades 2 on a surface pro 6 bc it's the only windows device i own

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?" Part 4

Synopsis: You run into Toji at the store, who had plans to buy the exact same gift for Megumi. 

Pairing: single dad! toji x f! reader

Contains: So much fluff, both reader and toji are obviously crushing on each other, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, megumi and tsumiki being absolutely adorable, shiu kong is toji’s friend, everyone is happy bc i said so 

part one, part two, part three 

a/n: and here's part four! barely proofread. sorry for mistakes!

— — — — — 

Every time you see him, your heart flutters stupidly in your chest, and you feel as if you’re glowing from within. Without even knowing, your mouth curves upward until you’re grinning excitedly. Toji Fushiguro is also smiling, his dark eyes as soft as ever. 

“Hi, Toji.”

“Hey, doll.” 

“Helloooooo?!” Shiu practically screams from over the phone, and Toji rolls his eyes as he asks, “did you find the damn toy?!” 

“Even better,” Toji says. “I’ll call you back.” 

Once he hangs up the phone, Toji steps closer to you, pointing towards the toy you’re clutching tightly in your hands. “Were you… Were you planning to buy that for Megs?” 

“Yeah.” You nod, suddenly timid. “Um, was that a problem? I hope I’m not crossing any lines or anything like that. It’s just- he looked so scared for his appointment, and once I saw that this dropped in, I knew it would be—” 

“I’m not upset. No, it’s just…” Toji trails off, and you raise a brow at the shocked expression on his face. “That toy is expensive.” 

“It’s for Gumi,” you say, smiling fondly when you think about the shy, spiky-haired boy in your class who loves dogs, coloring pictures of flowers and telling you stories about his family. “He’s worth it.” 

When Toji smiles again, it’s warm, full of gratitude, and so lovely that you feel your heart stutter in your chest again. “Thank you, that’s so sweet. He’ll love it,” he says, and then places his hand on your shoulder. “However, I can��t let you buy that. It’s too much money.” 

“No, please. Let me. I can cover it.” 

“Let me cover it,” he says. “You can still be the one to gift it to him, but please just let me buy it. I know from Shiu that teachers usually have to buy so much on their own.” 

It was true. Crayons, markers, pencils, class decorations, picture books and anything else to make your students happy usually fell on your shoulders. Then, there was rent, groceries, and other expensive bills that kept you up at night sometimes. However, your stress temporarily fades away when you spend time with the children at the pre-school you work at, especially Megumi Fushiguro. Even better during those afternoons when you talk with Toji. 

“Alright, fine,” you say, and you hold up a single finger. “One condition: You at least let me buy Tsumiki’s doll.” 

He raises a brow. “Which doll?” 

Since you both are in the aisle that stores toys for young girls, you’re able to point to the one you had your eye on. The smiling doll was a soccer player, her dark hair styled in a high ponytail—the same way Tsumiki usually styles her hair. The doll wore a jersey, cleats, and shin guards, and the set also came with a miniature soccer ball, water bottle and sports headband for the doll. “I was going to give this one to her after her soccer match.” 

You look back at Toji to see him staring at you in disbelief, and before you can ask him why, he tells you, “I seriously can’t believe that we both ended up at the same store getting ready to buy the same two toys.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles as he grabs the doll for Tsumiki off of the shelf, then starts walking with you towards the front of the store to check out. “I had it in mind at Megumi’s appointment.” 

“How was that, by the way?” You ask. 

Toji pulls out his phone and scrolls for a few seconds before showing you a picture. Megumi and Tsumiki were standing outside of the doctor’s office with matching stickers on their t-shirts, happily enjoying their candy. “He did great. His sister held his hand to keep him calm throughout the checkout, and it worked. Proud of her for keeping it together, too. She only had to call one person a ‘stupid head’ today because he told him that boys shouldn’t cry.” 

You snicker, “Oh, my gosh, ‘stupid head’?? Cute picture, also. They’re so precious.” 

“Mhm,” He looks down, shaking his head with a bashful smile. “She actually means dumbass.” 

“Oh, does she, now? I assume there’s a story behind that?” 

He hums, taking a few seconds to think before beginning to explain. “Couple years ago. She was five. Megumi was just about to turn two. I was driving them to the store, and this guy cut me off. I shouted, ‘watch where you’re going, dumbass’ and she repeated after me.” When you make eye contact with each other, you both laugh. “Shiu nearly pissed himself,” he says, “I was laughing so hard that I had to pull over. Finally, we explained to her that dumbass is a bad word, and that she had to say something different. So, she settled on ‘stupid head.” It’s so simple, but it nearly kills Shiu and I because we know what she actually wants to say.” 

“That’s incredible,” you say, standing with him in the checkout line. “And I’m happy she called that guy out at the appointment today. She’s so protective of her little brother. I love it.” 

You’re about to put the plushie onto the conveyor belt, but Toji gently grabs it from you, placing both it and the doll on there. You look at him. “Toji, I—” 

“I meant it earlier when I said that I can’t let you buy this because of how pricey it is. Since you got here first and spent so much time looking for the dog plushie, you’re still going to be the one to give both of these to them,” he says softly. “But just knowing that you were willing to spend this much money for Megs and Tsumiki when you one hundred percent didn’t have to mean so damn much to me. Thank you. Not just for being an amazing teacher, but also for being a wonderful human being.” 

Oh, he’s so sweet. 

There’s so much you want to say, but you know that you can’t say too much—at least, not yet. So you go for the first and most important. “You’re an incredible father. They love you so much.” 

He smiles and nods his thanks, then pays for the two items before handing you the bag. As you two leave the store, he offers to walk you to your car, and you accept. “You’re right,” you mutter to him. “Teachers don’t make a lot, but we always make do with what we have. One day, I’ll have the classroom of my dreams.” You declare, suddenly determined. “It’s what the kids deserve. Also, I want you to know that even if I was struggling a little bit after buying those toys, I would’ve never regretted buying them for Megumi and Tsumiki. They’re such good kids.” 

“I know,” Toji says. “Not once did I think that you’d regret it. You’ve only ever been sweet to them.” When he sees that it’s beginning to get dark, he gently taps your car. “You should get home and get some rest. I can tell that you’ve been trying to hunt that dog plushie down for a while. Also,” he stops and exhales, and you wonder what he’s thinking. A light shade of pink dusts his cheeks, and it reminds you of him in Megumi’s drawing. 

“I want to see you more,” he finally tells you. “Outside of work, I mean. I was thinking that maybe we can grab dinner some time?” 

“Yes.” It’s impossible to hide your smile. How could you? “I’d love to.” 

He carefully grasps your hand, then brings it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of it. It’s a sweet gesture, but you feel like you’re about to catch fire and then melt into the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he purrs. “And I’ll text you plans about the date.” 

Date. Date. 

“Okay,” you manage to reply when you find your voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well!” You get into your car, wave him off once more, then drive off, unable to control your excitement. 

— 

As Toji watches your car leave the store’s parking lot, he’s already calling Shiu, a new idea beginning to take shape in his mind. 

“Are you done flirting?” Shiu answers with a huff. “The kids were wondering where you went.” 

“Sorry about that. I’m on my way now. Quick question though: That job that took me less than an hour to complete. What was the payout for that one again?” 

“Eight thousand, why?” 

Perfect. “Put half of it aside.” 

— — — — — 

“What’s this?” Megumi asks when you place the wrapped gift box in front of him, looking up at you and Toji with large, curious eyes. 

The three of you are in your classroom a little earlier than usual, since you wanted to give Megumi his present before the other students arrived. Toji didn’t mind since he also wanted to see his reaction.

“A present that Ms. [Y/L/N] got you,” Toji answers as he pats his head. “Go ahead and open it.” 

Like with everything else, Megumi takes his time opening the gift; delicately undoing the knot in the bow and wrapping the gift paper starting from the edges. When he sees the new plushie, the kid gasps, then screams in joy. 

“No way!” He holds up his usual black dog plushie next to the new white one, tears of happiness rising to his eyes. “Now they’re together!” He gently puts the toy down, then runs into your arms, squeezing you as tight as he can. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” 

“Aw, of course, sweetheart!” You laugh as you hug him in return. “I’m so proud of you for getting through your appointment. You did such a good job.” 

As you praise him, Toji notes that Megumi still hasn’t released you yet. It was the longest he’s ever seen him hug anyone that wasn’t him or Tsumiki. His previous preschool teacher told him in the past that Megumi was too closed off, and that his refusal to talk to anyone would cause so many issues in the future. At first, Toji was worried, but now that he has seen how he is with you, even after such a short amount of time, he just knew that it was because Megumi didn’t trust his other teacher. 

But he really, really trusted you. Loved you, even.

-----------

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[mysnoopyvalentine]

can't help myself

kim doyoung x reader

word count: 12.3k

genre: soulmates!au, fluff, parallel universes, strangers to lovers (ish)

warnings: implied sex, kissing, swearing

playlist: Can’t Help Myself (NCT 127), I’m In Love with You (the 1975), Say Yes (Loco, Punch)

summary: In a skeptical culture where soulmates don’t always live happily ever after, you begin dreaming of your ideal man long past the average age of soulmate visions. You may love Doyoung in every universe, but does that really mean you’re meant to be? Even when the Doyoung of your reality is an idol?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It happens when you least expect it.

You get ready for bed early on New Year’s Eve without the intention of staying up late to ring in the new year.

Your phone vibrates on the nightstand, displaying the contact picture of your best friend Meg.

It would be easier to ignore it and pretend like you’re busy, but you know that Meg is nosy enough to check your location. She’ll see you’re at home in an instant and call you a million times anyway.

“Hey,” you feign ignorance as you pick up. “What’s up?”

“I know that your ass is not at home right now,” she groans. “You should’ve told me! I would’ve taken you out with me and David!”

“Come on, you know I don’t really go out for New Year’s anymore.”

You stopped doing so a couple of years back due to the fact that it just made you feel more hopeless for the upcoming year. You have plenty of luck in your career and general day-to-day life, but the men you encounter in the dating pool are horrendous. New Year’s was just one of those holidays that made you feel lonely even in the midst of a fulfilling life.

“I know you hate third wheeling on New Year’s Eve, but I still feel like it’s a good opportunity to try meeting someone. Come out and meet us downtown!” Meg insists.

You look at the clock. 9:59PM. That’s not nearly enough time to get ready, uber downtown, and desperately try to ensure a New Year’s Kiss. You don’t have the energy to flirt with strangers these days, anyway. “Hell no. I’m good.”

Meg tries to persuade you for the next five minutes, but no amount of free drinks, food, or money can convince you to leave your place. At the end of it all, she finally concedes. “Fine, stay home.”

“That was the plan,” you say coolly. You love her, but her persistence in treating your singleness as a condition to be cured grates on your nerves.

“Want me to manifest a soulmate vision for you tonight instead of a New Year’s kiss?”

You snort. “Now you’re really being delusional. I don’t think my soulmate exists, considering that I’ve never had a single soulmate vision in all these years.”

The concept of your soulmate was the fallback argument of most people as a last-ditch effort to prevent you from giving up on dating. Usually it comes off disingenuous, like they’re just dangling a carrot above your head for romantic motivation. Meg and David, however, are soulmates—meaning they serve as a genuine reminder that soulmates do work out. Sometimes.

Everyone knows the common signs of a soulmate bond. First, the visions: 90% of all soulmate pairs report experiencing a series of visions about a stranger. They don’t appear as a background person either—soulmate visions are vivid experiences characterized by their extreme detail. Most of the time each soulmate experiences the other’s memories. Rarer, some soulmates would even share visions, allowing them to interact before meeting in the real world.

Dreams are the most common manifestation of this phenomenon, but there’s enough people that don’t have theirs linked to sleep to justify the term ‘vision’ instead. Most pairs start seeing their other half during their teenage years; others, like Meg, meet their soulmate so early that they barely experience any visions at all.

For those who do experience them, one fact is absolute across the board: all accounts of soulmate visions end once you see them in person.

The second, less pleasant aspect of having a soulmate is the intense physical reaction towards seeing them physically for the first time. Symptoms appear spontaneously with fainting, vomiting, and migraines being the most common. Around 30% of soulmate encounters end up with at least one party requiring some form of medical attention.

On this night, experiencing dreams of a stranger or feeling violently ill don’t sound like the most appealing things on the planet. You’ll pass.

Meg says your name, snapping you to attention. “…You really don’t have to ice me out for a soulmate joke, I can just stop.”

“No, you’re good. The soulmate thing is funny.” You force out a laugh. “If I happen to have a soulmate vision on New Year’s Eve, maybe that’s a sign that things will actually work out.”

“Oh, shut up, there’s no way for him to resist if you do have one.”

If. The word bounces around in your head. Of all people, even Meg wasn’t sure that you had a karmic link waiting for you.

“Well, you shouldn’t let my singleness ruin your night with David. I’ll talk to you guys later.” You hang up the phone before she can answer.

You see a text notification pop up on your phone, but you place your phone facedown on the nightstand instead. You lean onto your side and turn off your lamp.

The quiet of your apartment has your mind churning. Even if you do have a soulmate, would it even work out?

While a good number of the population encounters their soulmate in real life, the amount of successful relationships resulting from that encounter are surprisingly low. Confidence in soulmate pairings had lowered with the younger generations, especially with researchers studying the science behind soulmate dreams and reactions. Hopeless romantics believed wholeheartedly in soulmate pairs, while more pragmatic people posed the same question—if scientists are able to explain why dreams and physical reactions happen between two people, is there anything truly fated about it?

You’re not certain where you stand on the matter. Scientists aren’t close to discovering anything concrete anyway, so you deal with this big philosophical question in the best way you know: ignoring it.

No use thinking about it anyway, when you’re long past the average age of experiencing initial soulmate dreams.

You let your mind wander elsewhere as you close your eyes and drift slowly to sleep.

That’s when he appears.   

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Flowers surround you in an open field. The sunlight warms your face, and the breeze carries the soft, fresh scents of springtime. You balk as you look down at your hands; you’re holding an artist palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.

An easel right at the edge of your vision catches your eye. You turn towards it in hopes of making sense of the situation—maybe this dream was fulfilling a brief childhood dream of becoming a landscape artist—but you feel your heart drop.

The painting lacks any landscape at all. Instead, it depicts a near-finished portrait of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

His eyes, dark but warm, catch your attention first. Combined with his pouty lips and slender face, he’s the epitome of your type. What’s the most striking to you, however, is the gentle nature captured in his expression. The pose you’ve chosen depicts his shoulders turned away from the viewer, yet his gaze stares at you directly. His lips are curved slightly upwards in a playful smile, as if he’s just teased the viewer. Unequivocally handsome features softened in all the right places.

There’s a quiet sound of shoes shuffling on the grass. A tuft of black hair peeks up from over the canvas.

“Do you need anything else from me?”

After a beat of silence, a full head pokes out from the side of the easel, and everything stops. It’s the man from the painting in front of you—smooth skin, soft smile, and perfect everything in all. He says your name once in the tone of a question, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is everything okay? Are you upset because I moved?”

You open your mouth to speak—to clarify that no, everything is not okay and ask who are you, anyway? —but something else emerges from your lips entirely.

“You can move. I’m almost done. Do you want to see it?”

The words are yours, technically. You feel and hear yourself saying them, but your thoughts and emotions are completely disconnected from your body. The same goes for your movements; this artistic version of you mixes paint absentmindedly.

The man from the painting fully emerges from behind the canvas, revealing his full height. He’s dressed in jeans and a simple white button-up. His face in the spring daylight looks otherworldly; it’s clear why you’d chosen to paint him in this lighting. You’re certain that you’ve never seen him before, in your real life, but something about him feels familiar. Comfortable. He walks up beside you, peering at his likeness from over your shoulder.

You shift your weight from left to right. “Do you like it?”

He hums. “Well…”

You scoff. “You can be honest.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. It’s the kind of good-natured laugh that’s both contagious and friendly.

You’re about to say something else when he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“You know I think you’re a genius,” he says softly in your ear. “That’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead as you feel your dream fade away to consciousness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Light passes through a gap in your curtains and warms your face, waking you up from your springtime dream.

You sit up, blinking out the sleep from your eyes.

Your phone is in your hand and Meg’s number is dialed before you can even think by yourself.

“Happy New Year, bitch!” Meg’s voice chirps over the phone. “What’s up?”

“I think I just had a soulmate dream,” you say, breathless.

Silence. Then, her scream peaks the mic on her phone and nearly makes your ears bleed. You wince and move your phone away from your face to put her on speakerphone instead.

“You’re messing with me!” She shrieks. “There’s no way!”

“That’s the thing.” You rub at your temple, as if that will stop the ringing in your ears. “I’m not completely sure. Most people see their partner’s past memories, right?”

 There’s some clicking on her end. “I wouldn’t really know, but I can look it up for you.”

“Most soulmate visions involve seeing past memories from your soulmate’s perspective,” she reads. “However, at least 20% of soulmate bonds report experiencing a vision of their futures instead. Does this sound like you? Did it seem like you were seeing something from the future?”

“Not unless I suddenly gain enough art skill to become an artist.”

For once, Meg is speechless. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding. I was painting his portrait. A very well done, professional looking portrait.”

“That’s crazy,” she snorts. Like you, she doesn’t even try to entertain the delusion that it could be a future version of yourself. You can barely draw a stick figure. “Well, some people see parallel versions of themselves, apparently?”

“Parallel versions?” You echo.

“Apparently some pairs claim that they see each other, but in other versions of reality,” she reports. “Sounds kind of romantic to me.”

“What’s the percentage of that?”

“No official numbers on it because it’s so rare. Mostly anecdotal stories.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. Sorry to get your hopes up. All that soulmate talk before bed probably just made my brain a little overactive.”

Meg’s line is quiet. “Well, I don’t think we can really rule it out yet.”

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. As many soulmate skeptics as there are, there’s an equal amount of people embellishing stories to try to strongarm others into believing. You’d believe in the idea of parallel universes when there’s something more than an online reddit thread to go off of.

“You can hold out hope. I’m moving on.” You rack your brain for other topics. “I still have that date tomorrow with that guy, if that makes you feel better.”

Meg floods you with questions—What are you wearing? Where did you decide? Can you send me his profile? You would normally regret opening yourself to too much questioning prior to any date, but you’re just relieved to steer her away from the concept of your soulmate.

The rest of your day goes by normally. You’re a little more fatigued than usual, but with the day off from work you’re able to finish all of your errands with extra time to rest.

You’re relaxing in your room as you watch YouTube videos on your TV with a face mask cooling your face. You open your laptop absentmindedly to parse through your emails.

One promotional ad catches your eye – Try a Spring Art Class for Free! You click it; the ad is for a local crafts store that you’d visited for a friend’s birthday gift. The store lists five promotional classes. You hover your cursor over a hyperlink titled Fundamentals of Portrait Drawing.

You nearly slam your laptop closed as you come back to your senses. One beginner class wasn’t going to turn you into an artist. You don’t have time to balance a whole craft with the demands of your full-time job, anyway.

Your phone vibrates. It’s Evan—your second date for tomorrow.

Excited to see you! He texts.

You type back a similarly empty message before turning off your phone. Your first date with him had been fun enough to warrant a second, but you don’t expect much this time around. That was a recurring issue Meg didn’t let you live down—every person you talked to seemed to be lacking in at least one area. Your ideal partner needed to be communicative and emotionally intelligent. They also needed to be ambitious with their own goals and community. All while having romantic chemistry with yourself.

Evan was lacking in the communication department, and you’d felt your interest wane since the first date. You wouldn’t have even considered the second date if it wasn’t for Meg in your ear to nag that your standards were too high. Sometimes, although you’d never admit it out loud, you wondered if you were even capable of a romantic love like that. It seemed too easy for everyone else.

At least your time with Evan would be mindless and relatively expectation-free. With that in mind, you drift off into an easy sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Lips brush against your forehead as light as a feather. “Are you awake?”

You grunt your assent without opening your eyes.

A huff of laughter followed by another peck. “Very convincing.”

You blink your eyes open at that. A pair of dark brown eyes gaze back at you in the dim light. Your heartbeat, already strangely fast for someone asleep, quickens in your chest at the sight.

It’s the man from the painting. He’s propped his head up on one arm as he smiles down at you in open affection. His bangs are pushed away from his forehead, although the black hairs still cling slightly to his skin. His bare chest heaves as he breathes in deeply.

You sigh. “See? I’m awake.”

He laughs louder this time. His eyes crinkle when he laughs and his smile—his real smile—exposes a faint pink line of gums over his teeth. You understand why another version of you would be compelled to capture his likeness through art. You couldn’t explain it to someone if you tried; there’s something about his presence that’s ethereal.

“Why are you smiling?” He asks.

You kind of look like a rabbit, you want to tease, but, again, you’re unable to move your mouth on its own accord.

“Just looking at you,” your voice responds nonchalantly.

His smile softens at that. He reaches his free arm over and caresses the side of your face. His hand follows the length of your neck before travelling further down your back. Your bare back. It dawns on you that, underneath the silk covers, you are completely naked.

Your breath catches as his hand rests on the curve of your hip. His thumb draws small circles around the skin, which makes the nerves underneath electric to his touch.

“Hey now,” you laugh shakily. “What are you trying to do?”

He only raises an eyebrow before pressing light kisses down your neck. “What do you think?”

Your heart flutters. Against your thoughts, your mouth mutters, “I think I’m going to be extra tired taking care of the kids tomorrow morning.”

His kisses drift back up and stop with a final peck behind your ear. “I’ll look after them in the morning. You sleep in.”

“That may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He huffs a laugh but pulls away from you.

You lean forward to re-close the space and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m joking. What’s wrong?”

His expression turns thoughtful. “Do you need me to pick up more things around the house? Leave work earlier? I know having two under the age of five is rough already…”

Your heart warms. You run a hand through his hair, smiling as he leans into your touch. “I love you and our kids more than I’ve ever loved anything else. Our life together is perfect.”

He presses a kiss into your open palm. His eyes turn playful. “You know what could make it more perfect?”

“What?”

He catches your lips in his, kissing you deeply. Your lips move against each other in a way that’s clearly familiar—soft to the touch but intense enough to take your breath away.

“Well...” He murmurs against your lips in between kisses. “What do you say we turn two into three?”

You’re pulled out of the scene before you can hear yourself respond.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You hear the wind rattling against your office windows as you leave for the day. It’s a chore to even get outside in the first place, on account of the wind pushing back on the lobby door.  When you finally manage to exit the building, the wind threatens to blow you over with each gust.

You curse under your breath. It’s just another inconvenience added to today.

You’d shot out of bed with your heart pounding through your chest. Even someone like you couldn’t deny the obvious truth of the situation—you had officially experienced soulmate visions. While it’s unclear why your visions manifest this way, you cannot ignore the magnetic pull and strange familiarity tugging at your core whenever you see him. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

And you hate the idea that people might be right; that someone’s entire universe could halt and re-align at the drop of a hat with no rhyme or reason. Bitterness lines this worldview for you—clearly, you had been able to make a name for yourself without the promise of a fated partner. You love your job, you love your friends, and you’re at peace. All possible because of the time and effort you invested into yourself.

You’ve considered cancelling your date with Evan multiple times to fully sort out your emotions, but you push on. Your date with him feels like something bigger–a loose end that might tie all the chaos in your life together in a cohesive picture.

Evan leans against the brick walls of the restaurant. He straightens his posture as you approach. He’s much taller than you remember; you’d basically been sitting the entire time during your first date, and honestly you’d begun to forget specific features about him.

“Hey!” He grins as he holds the door open for you. “How have you been?”

“Pretty decent, all things considered,” you say as you duck under his arm. “Same old stuff.”

He laughs at that–a little too hard, considering what you said was not meant to be funny at all. “Come on. Nothing exciting on your side of the city?”

Yeah, let me tell you about the sensual yet also incredibly domestic dream I had about another man, you think. He’s probably my soulmate too, by the way.

“That weather is probably the most exciting thing about my week,” you lie with a pinched smile.

Evan lets out a laugh that’s again too loud as he pulls out your chair for you.

Throughout all of the small talk and pleasantries, you can’t really fault Evan for anything specific. He’s polite, relatively cute, and likeable. He actively listens and remembers the small details from your stories while also contributing to the conversation. He also seems really into you; his gaze lingers on your features and hangs on to every word you say.

You try to be an attentive date, but your mind keeps drifting elsewhere. You order another drink, but each sip of alcohol seems to make your mind swirl away even farther.

What do you say we make two into three?

Considering you don’t have a serious partner, you hadn’t thought about the possibility of kids in a long time. The caring tone that he used towards you still makes your heart race when you think about it.

Our life together is perfect.

Your own voice feels like a weapon stabbing at you over and over. It’s one thing to exist in these visions already; experiencing them without free will seems to shove all the possible outcomes down your throat. Is there really someone out there that can make you feel that way?

“Ready to head out?”

You snap back into attention as Evan stands by, waiting to pull your chair out for you. You appreciate his acts of chivalry even when you don’t deserve it.

Partially out of guilt, you let him take your hand as he walks with you through some nearby Christmas lights that the city has failed to take down. The atmosphere is perfect; there’s hardly any other people nearby, the weather has calmed down, and your date is kind and attentive.

Yet everything still feels wrong.

When you draw closer to your initial meeting point, he strokes the top of your hand with his thumb. “May I kiss you?”

Under normal circumstances, you would not kiss him right now. But another part of you urges you to try it. You technically know Evan more than the mystery man from your dreams. The likelihood of you feeling something with him should be just as high.

You nod with a swallow. Evan leans forward and presses his lips to yours. It moves too quickly, at first–he’s so nervous that he nearly misses your mouth, and you’re so on edge that you almost forget to reciprocate.

All to say that your first real kiss in forever is a complete dud. You move your lips mindlessly and calmly against his until you withdraw with a polite smile. Evan, for his part, looks mesmerized.

“Thanks for today,” you say with a smile.

“I…” He runs a hand through his hair. “My offer to drive is still on the table, you know. I could drive you back to your place. Or mine.”

Your stomach drops. “I–”

You must have a look on your face because Evan cuts you off before you can say anything else. “I’m just joking.”

It’s not a joke, clearly, but you accept the out. “I have some errands to run, and I don’t want to make you go all over the place for me.”

“Right,” Evan says after a pause.

The moment lingers another beat too long.

“Today was a lot of fun,” you lie. “I’ll talk to you later!”

You turn on your heel and walk away casually until you turn the corner. Then, you duck into the nearest convenience store and call an Uber.

Later, you hear the disappointment dripping from Meg’s voice.

“No, it was the right call to do what was comfortable for you,” she hums. “But did you really have to be thinking about your soulmate the entire time?”

“It’s hard not to when I just found out that I actually have one!” You frown, as if she can see you. “I tried.”

“I know,” Meg sighs. “Well, let’s hope you see him in your dreams again soon.”

An entire month passes. Specifics about the contours of your soulmate’s face and details of his body start to blur from your memory, but what you remember most is the kindness dancing in his eyes. The care in which he spoke about you and your little family. You fall asleep early each night in anticipation only to be let down in the morning.

Instead, it happens next on an irrelevant day. Your shoes are kicked off after a long day of work, and you’re halfway across your living room when a bright light sears behind your eyelids. You throw yourself onto the couch with what little consciousness you have left before plunging into darkness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Meg brushes a stray hair into place. “There you go.”

The soft tones of a piano drift through the glass doors in front of you. You see the blur of a crowd outside, although it’s hard to discern through the frosted glass panes.

“Does everything look okay?” Your throat feels tight and your voice comes out breathy.

“Beautiful.”

“I’m scared,” you hear yourself whisper. “What if I’m believing in soulmates too blindly?”

Meg snorts. “A little late for that, don’t you think? If anything, you’re giving me the hope that I’ll meet my person. The two of you are absolutely disgusting together; if this doesn’t work out then all the rest of us are fucked.”

You don’t respond.

Meg rolls her eyes, tugging your arm to turn you to the left. A floor length mirror leans against the wall. It contains a lettered seating chart for all your guests with some names familiar and some foreign. You swallow at your reflection through the text.

It's truly an image out of a dream. Fabric drapes and hugs you in the ways you’ve always wanted. Your bouquet is made of elegant white flowers apart from a few blossoms popping out in shades of light pink. You’d so long put romance in the back of your mind that it’s jarring to see yourself like this. You smile at your reflection, embodying the image of elegance.

“It’s time then,” your voice rings, more confident than before.

The doors open in front of you, causing the crowd outside to rise from their seats. The piano transitions into a slow melody. The flower girl, waiting by the entrance with her mother, steps a few paces in front of you to begin dropping pink petals.

You walk down the aisle with your head held high. If you’re still shaken by your cold feet minutes prior, it doesn’t show anymore.

You’re not surprised to see a familiar lean figure at the end of the aisle. You are surprised, however, when he sees you for the first time.

His face lights up in pure elation. His smile broadens so big and wide that his gums peek out a little. There’s a light shine to his eyes that makes your heart clench. It’s as much your reaction as it is for this version of you. It’s almost too much to bear. He already looks ridiculously handsome in his wedding tuxedo, but the open emotion in his face (for you) makes him all the more mesmerizing.

You stop in front of him. This version of you has grown a little shy; your face warms as you raise your eyes up slowly to meet his.

You barely hear the officiant over the sound of your pounding heart. It’s only once the vows start that you catch what’s being said. What he’s saying.

“One thing I want to start off with is saying that we weren’t supposed to meet that day. I was helping my best friend, Taeyong, who was too hungover to pick up his phone that he’d left at a girl’s house…”

There’s a slight pause as a chuckle passes through the crowd. One groomsman—presumably Taeyong—rolls his eyes with a smile. It’s clearly a story that everyone knows well.

“The last thing I ever expected was for the girl’s very cute roommate to open the door. Let alone have the realization that they were the soulmate I’d been seeing in my dreams.” His eyes lift up, sparkling and happy. “Meeting you that day changed the entire course of my life. You are the best thing to happen to me…my best friend, confidant, and greatest love. Your love and endless faith make me a better man. I promise to protect you and be there by your side when things get hard. I promise to show up for you in all of the little moments—not just the big ones. I choose to love you in this lifetime and all the others that may be. I love you.”

You feel your mouth moving, but your mind races from the realization. This lifetime. All the others that may be.

This, like the dream of yourself as an artist, was not your life. Was Meg right? Were these glimpses into other versions of yourself?

You’d been completely different in the first vision. There is no chance of you becoming an advanced artist at this point, that’s for sure. The second dream had no identifying differences, other than the fact that you had two children with this man. This version of you seemed more like yourself, but Meg was the biggest outlier. She clearly hadn’t met David and doesn’t even fully believe in soulmates.  Additionally, you’d been out of college for years—meeting him during school could not be a future possibility. Soulmate visions of other universes seemed so rare and far-fetched that you’d found it easy to dismiss it as a tall tale, but you didn’t know what else could explain this.

“I…” You startle back into this reality as you speak your own name. “…vow to take you, Doyoung, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Doyoung, you think as he slips the ring onto your finger. I finally know his name.

“By the power vested in me by the support of this community and strength of your love, I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”

Doyoung squares his shoulders to yours. He’s a little too stiff in the movement, which makes you giggle. The sound of your laugh relaxes a smile to his face. He tilts your chin up with his hand so that your eyes meet his.

“I love you,” he whispers before pulling you, finally, into a deep kiss.

His lips are velvet soft and fit perfectly to yours. The crowd erupts into whoops and cheers that begin to fade into the background.

Not now, you think, distantly. It would be nice to stay here. For a while.

You’re pulled out against your will. You let yourself be lost in Doyoung’s touch until the end.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You type and erase strings of characters on your phone.

“…I enjoyed our time together, but I think we should see other people,” you read aloud. “Too dramatic?”

Meg waves a hand dismissively. “Who cares? You’re not seeing him again.”

“He’s a nice guy, Meg.”

“He’s boring, and you’re being toonice,” she replies. “Just send it.”

You do a quick onceover of your message before pressing the send button. You immediately turn your phone off and flip it upside down.

“Now that was dramatic.”

You glare at Meg from your position on your couch. She sits on the other side, scrolling through something on her laptop.

“So!” She says with a flourish. “What’s the plan?”

“…The plan?”

 “Do you want to meet Doyoung?”

You’d had a handful more soulmate visions since learning Doyoung’s name. Your lives together spanned endless locations intertwined with different professions—from what you gathered from your visions, other versions of you had met Doyoung through school, work, and even a particularly strange meet-cute of being his regular barista. The peek into these various lifetimes left you curious and a little bit weary; each subsequent vision was harder to leave than before, and you’d experienced so many that slipping in and out of these other realities felt like second nature.

Without fail, however, Doyoung stays the same. Each version contains the same kindhearted nature you’d glimpsed ever since the first. You’ve never seen the same version of Doyoung twice, but you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Yet even so, the idea of hunting down your Doyoung sends a wave of uncertainty through you. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you.

“I…don’t know if I want to meet him,” you admit out loud.

You expect the worst reaction from Meg—a shriek, gasp, or even straight up shouting—but instead, she purses her lips. “Why?”

“I’m not sure he’ll be very impressed with me,” you say. You try to pick up your phone to look busy, but you glimpse Evan’s name on your screen instead.

Thanks for letting me know. I hope you find—

You put your phone back down.

Meg stares at you. “You think he’s going to be unimpressed because you have your shit together?”

“Well—”

“What if he’s a loser?”

“He’s not!” You shriek. In truth, you have no idea what your Doyoung does or where he is.

“Then what do you know about the Doyoung here that’s so larger than life?”

You don’t answer.

Understanding flickers across Meg’s face. She groans. “You didn’t even look him up?!”

You cross your arms. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“You’re so impossible,” she types furiously into her computer. “Do…young…”

You roll your eyes. “Like you’re gonna find him by googling his first name only.”

“It’s unique enough,” she protests, whirling her laptop screen around toward you. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Imagine if a guy this hot appeared in your dreams?”

Everything muscle in your body freezes. A strangled noise rips out of your throat.

Meg’s jaw drops, and she looks between you and the screen with open disbelief. “You’re fucking shitting me right now.”

Doyoung’s picture smiles at you clear as day from Meg’s laptop. Singer and Actor.

Wordlessly, you reach over and click the images tab. Pictures of Doyoung—your Doyoung—flood the entire page. He’s photographed in various styles, even modeling with big brands. You’d known that he was ridiculously good-looking, but you hadn’t expected something like this. You even recognize his friends Taeyong and Johnny that you’d seen in some visions; they’re clearly friends in this universe too, seeing as they’re posing in many group pictures together.

“That’s him…” you whisper.

“Holy shit.” Meg regains her senses and starts clicking through different website links rapidly. “Holy shit, dude! He’s famous!”

“I can see that!” You say as panic rises up your chest. Of all the perfectly normal Doyoungs you’d seen, your Doyoung had to be a celebrity?

“I was going to tell you to find him anyway, but this is insane!” More clicking. Meg shows you a digital tour poster that reads NCT 127 – THE MOMENTUM. “Dude. They’re touring. I’m buying tickets.”

Your head spins. You’d meet him by buying tickets amongst all of his fans. Your soulmate has a fanbase.

“Don’t,” you choke out.

“How else are you going to find him? Stalk him?”

She’s right. Regardless, you feel tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. Your voice comes out so quiet that it’s barely audible. “I’m scared.”

Meg’s expression softens. She sets her laptop aside as she envelops you into a hug. “I know. Let me just buy the tickets for you for now, and then we can think about it more. It’s in two months, so you have some time.”

You nod with a sniffle.

“Besides,” Meg smiles as she pulls back. “All of your visions have pretty much been sickly sweet, right? I doubt anything will change now.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung pulls you out of a restaurant through a gathering crowd. Flashes go off all around you.

Most of the group is made up of women shoving their cameras in your faces while completely hiding their own. There’s a slight murmur amongst them that’s still eerily quiet.

You pull the brim of your hat down lower, the fabric of your mask higher as you try to shield yourself from the attention.

Security opens the door to the black SUV first, ushering Doyoung inside first. It’s a brief pause that’s long enough for a fan to get you within her sights while security is distracted.

“Ugly whore!” She screams as she arches her arm back. You react too late as a plastic cup hits the back of your head. A cold liquid drenches you starting from your face and drips down your entire shirt.

You stand there in shock. Flashes and shutters sound off rapidly around you. The only thing that moves you, finally, is the security staff member physically lifting you into the backseat. The door slams after you, drowning you in silence.

The driver turns to hand you a towel, which you accept with trembling hands.

“Looks like our whereabouts got leaked, again,” you laugh, but the sound falls flat into the silence.

Doyoung’s eyes rake over your appearance. His expression contorts into hurt.

You want to massage the deep frown from his face, but you can already feel the tears threatening to surface. Instead, you dab at your clothing to dry what you can. The fan must have thrown a soft drink of some kind, since the drink leaves behind a sticky residue on your clothing and skin.

Doyoung looks like he’s on the brink of tears himself. “This is my fault,” he says simply.

You expect your voice to come out weepy, but it comes out hard instead. “It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not! This is the work of people who don’t understand boundaries! You should be able to enjoy your free time without being stalked!”

It’s clearly a point of contention that’s been hashed out before. He settles into silence for the entire drive. The car eventually stops in front of a high rise building that the two of you walk into together. It’s clearly your shared apartment, traces of him and you strewn throughout the space.

“You should go shower and clean yourself off,” he says absentmindedly as he types something into his phone. “I’m going to make a quick call.”

You still hear Doyoung’s voice through the door when you emerge from the shower.

“Right. I was just hoping….yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to…No, that won’t be necessary. Thanks.”

 You pull on your clothes and exit your bathroom into your master bedroom in the most nonchalant way you can manage. You falter still when you see Doyoung sitting at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

You join him on the edge of the bed. “Doyoung?”

He looks up at you; his eyes are rimmed with red. “Hey.”

“You talked to your manager? How was it?”  

“As expected,” Doyoung says while avoiding your gaze.

“Is your company going to take any action?”

He frowns, then takes a deep breath. “They said they’ll do what they can.”

“Which means?”

“Just that. They’ll ‘do what they can,’” Doyoung's voice drips with sarcasm, “but it’s unlikely to actually deter anyone. These things might still happen to you as long as you’re with me.”

As long as you’re with me. Alarm bells ring in your head.

“Don’t.” The you of this reality must pick up something more because your concern swiftly rushes into anger. “I know this fuck-ass company is recommending you some fuck-ass solution. I thought we said that we would handle this together. We survived the leaked photos in the media—we can handle this.”

Doyoung doesn’t look at you. “It’s my idea.”

For the first time, the weight of this reality’s emotions flood over your own. You feel her shock down to your core, which is quickly replaced by raw heart ache. Your throat is so tight that you’re barely able to choke out the words. “Okay. Say it, then.”

“I can’t keep watching this happen to you because of who I am. There’s still three years before my contract ends. Who would want to go through any of this for that long?”

“I would,” you say quietly, “I will for you. What we have is too special to throw it all away.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Doyoung’s shaking his head. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Who decides what’s fair to me? Isn’t that my choice?” You snap, your temper flaring up again. “It’s pretty unfair that you’re disregarding my entire opinion in this.”

“We’re soulmates,” he murmurs. “Meaning you felt a biological pull when we met.”

Your heart drops. “What the hell are you saying?”

 “You didn’t have much of a choice but to be drawn to me. Despite my lifestyle.”

“You don’t believe that. You believe in soulmates more than anyone.”

He avoids your eyes by opting to stare at the ceiling instead. “Well, maybe I’m starting to think differently.”

“So this is it, then?" Your voice trembles. “After all it took to just find each other in the first place?”

“I’m leaving tonight." He still doesn't meet your eyes. "This apartment is yours, but I won’t be coming back.”

You’re still absorbing his words when he rises toward the door.

“Doyoung.” Your voice is laced with despair. Still, you force out the words. “Say you don’t want me.”

“What?” His brow furrows.

You stalk after him, only stopping when your noses are nearly touching. “Say you don’t want me. Say that all of this was a mistake, and you don’t need us anymore. If you’re going to end it like this then you need to take ownership of it.”

Doyoung's mouth flattens and his bottom lip quivers. He takes a deep breath before exhaling and meeting your gaze. “We might be soulmates, but I no longer think that we belong together in this life. I wish the best for you, and the best for both of us is separating.”

It’s the worst he could say. Agony swirls in your chest. You collapse to the ground in a mess of sobs before he’s even left, but he continues out the door without looking back.

This version of you haunts the rooms of your house in a broken haze. You take to combing through every drawer, cabinet, and shelf as you search for anything that belongs to Doyoung. Nothing is safe; everything from clothing to picture frames get thrown onto the ground between bouts of hysterical crying.

Internally, panic courses through you. You’ve never felt stuck in a vision like this. Or felt the emotions of a vision so strongly. Everything about this vision is too real; this version of you feels everything so poignantly that you struggle to differentiate between your emotions and the emotions of this reality. You can barely think for yourself. Every sob comes equally from your soul.

Finally, when it’s deep into the night and your eyes can’t swell up any further from crying, you’re released from this nightmare. The you of this reality is left alone in a dreamless sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That’s only the first of a month-long string of visions. You’re thrown into visions at least once every day. They change between elated moments of intimacy to tormenting heartbreak at the flip of a coin. Destined to be together one day, doomed to fail the next. It gives you karmic whiplash.

The hardest part is dealing with the other versions of you. It’s increasingly difficult to separate your thoughts and emotions from whichever reality you’ve entered. Sometimes you stay so long that you think that you’ll be trapped in another body forever. Even when you finally return, all of the emotions follow you out.

After the latest nightmare, you wake up gasping for air. Not real, you remind yourself. You dig a nail into your palm until it bleeds, just to confirm that you’re in control of this body. Not my Doyoung.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, pausing as the back of your hand comes back wet. God, were you crying?

Shaking your head, you get up despite the heavy ache of your muscles. Your neck is so tight that you feel like it could snap off your shoulders.

Your phone lists a barrage of text and missed call notifications from Meg. A series from an hour ago that starts with a brunch request and ends with I’m coming over.

Sure enough, Meg sits at your dining table. There’s some take out containers on the table in front of her along with two cups of coffee.

“Sorry I missed your calls,” you sigh while taking your seat across from her. “Visions.”

Her eyes scan over everything from the deep bags under your eyes to the gaunt lines underneath your cheekbones. You ignore it and bite into a piece of toast.

“I’m worried about you,” Meg says.

You grunt and take a swig of coffee. “Why?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages.”

Your tone comes out too harsh. “Well, no one told me that soulmate visions during nighttime actually take away from any REM sleep. I’ve been having them almost every night for the past, you know, two months, so I don’t think I’ve really slept in a while.”

“I never really had many,” Meg mumbles from her spot. “So I didn’t know.”

“Sorry.” You know that you’re behaving like a colossal asshole, but you can’t help it. You’re haunted by what could come next. Visions of Doyoung plague you night and day. You still have yet to achieve full autonomy within a vision, which means that you’re trapped inside another’s body as you witness interactions that you will never have—different people, different universes, and different outcomes. It’s terrifying.

“There is a way to end it,” Meg starts again. “I have the tickets.”

You tighten your hand on your cup. “No.”

“Why not?”

You slam your hand down on the table. “Because sometimes it doesn’t work out, Meg!”

Her eyes widen.

“I’ve seen so many universes where it does work, but I’ve seen the pain and hurt that’s possible when it doesn’t,” you continue. “I love him in all of them, but better versions of me still fail to make it work. There’s no way that I stand a chance when Doyoung’s literally an idol with a million options at his fingertips.”

“You never know,” she reminds you softly. “He could be seeing you too, for all we know.”

“And with his infinite number of resources, he’s never tried to find me?”

That shuts her up.

“I’m starting to lose it, Meg,” your voice is barely louder than a hush. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not half of the time because of these visions—it’s like my soul is fighting to be outside of this reality. Isn’t that a sign? All these other versions of me have so much more to offer. I’m the worst version of myself, and he’s the best.”

Meg reaches to grab your hand. “You’re not the worst. Not even by a landslide. Your soul is just trying to be helpful by showing your amazing connection.”

“For this life it’s only an amazing outcome for me,” you say, sourness oozing back into your voice. “I can’t do that to him.”

“You can’t do this to yourself, either. Have you considered that you’re already doing something to him?”

This time, she’s lost you. “What do you mean?”

Meg sighs, a sure sign of her patience finally running out with you. “There’s no way in hell that he’s not experiencing some sort of vision himself. Isn’t that worse for him, since he’s touring? You’re probably disturbing his practice and rest time.”                                                         

You’ve been so caught up in living these alternate lives that, admittedly, you hadn’t considered the insane work demands of an idol. For all you know, he could be experiencing all of these visions at the same time. You had no way of knowing if your Doyoung was also witnessing everything without a chance to speak for himself.

 “It’s definitely worse for him,” you mumble.

“Exactly! And what’s the way to relieve you both of this? Meeting! Taking the chance of this concert in our city to let you both free!”

You hang your head in your hands. “Why do I have to ambush him like that? Isn’t that a lot?”

“You…” Meg stabs a finger in your direction. “…are not a celebrity.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Doyoung…” Meg pulls up the promotional images of him to show you on her phone. “…is an idol with crazy fans. He doesn’t know where to find you. I’m more than sure he has fans all up in his DMs claiming to be his soulmate on the daily. This is the only way you won’t get tackled by his security guards.”

You consider it. Even if he was guaranteed to not want you, even if he is universes above your league, you could at least free the both of you from these relentless interruptions.

I’ll miss it, a small part of you thinks. Being able to feel what we could be. What we are, just in different lives.

You push those thoughts to the back of your head. “Fine. Let’s end it.”

“Finally,” Meg exhales.

“You do realize that we’ll have to fight all of these fans to be as close as possible, right?”

“Don’t worry,” your friend says with an evil smile. “I have my ways.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Meg lives up to her word. After a series of begging and bribes to other fans, you’re at barricade on the far right. To your horror, she’s brought a sign with your name on it in bright neon green letters. You’d try to dissuade her, since there’s no guarantee that Doyoung’s even seen you in visions, let alone heard your name, but she refused to back down.

“Maybe it’s so strange that it’ll catch one of their eyes,” she argues.

It’s certainly catching the eyes of other concertgoers, who glare at you.

Past the surrounding people, you find it hard to remove your anxiety from the situation. You’d tried to influence the tone of your visions leading up to the concert by consuming NCT 127 variety content and their overall discography. In reality, it made the visions worse. Watching Doyoung’s public image in action grated at your psyche; instead of heartwarming, it reminded you painfully of the talent disparity between you two. Not only did it make your visions more taxing, but it also made them more likely to occur. With any hope, even if he didn’t see you, you wouldn’t go unconscious into a soulmate vision.  

Your heart hums with anticipation as the lights dim and the low bass reverberates through your body. The monitor displays a brief, pre-recorded video of the members wearing and removing gas masks. The scene switches to the faces of the six members in a row. You lock onto Doyoung’s image on the screen.

The fans around you scream at the top of their lungs. Your ears ring and numb your senses. Amidst all of the energy you suddenly feel a panicked flush of shame.

Had you really paid this much money for this experience based on what could be hallucinations? Wasn’t it a little…egotistical to assume a man at this unattainable level of fame could be your soulmate?

You swallow the lump in your throat as the big screen splits to reveal the members standing in glass boxes. The box closest to you is Jungwoo on the far-right side of the stage. Your eyes scan down the line, skipping over Mark, Yuta, Johnny, then—

Doyoung

Your first kiss, different every time, yet always leaving sweet fulfillment.

Torn apart by circumstances outside your control.

Finding each other despite all odds.

A soft breeze as you say I do.

Kids, seemingly in every timeline—

It’s as if the world stops. You nearly fall over in place as memories flood your head. They’re both yours and not; movies of past lives—together, good and bad—superimpose over the other. It’s much, much more than what you’ve experienced in your visions. No one has properly prepared you for the feeling. Your head spins and throbs as the memories tuck and cram themselves into any available space.

It’s as physical as it is emotional. Your body writhes as your head feels like it will explode at any second. You’re panicked, overrun by the happiness and sorrow and confusion clouding your judgment. You can’t even tell which of these emotions are yours or theirs. The bright, flashing lights make it so much worse. Bile climbs up your throat before you force it back down with a swallow.

“Hey!” Meg pulls at your forearm. “Are you alright?”

“…Yeah,” you stammer, gasping for air.

She pats the top of your hand, which is paling from the intense grip on the barricade metal. You release your hands and rub at your tender palms.

She processes your appearance for a brief moment before her eyes widen. “No way.”

You nod, too exhausted to reply.

“We were right? Holy shit!” She screams, which ignites the searing pain behind your eyes.

You sway a little. “Did he react at all?”

“I couldn’t tell because of the smoke,” she frowned. “It seemed like he came out a little late.”

Doyoung performs on the stage in front of you. He doesn’t seem disoriented in the slightest. You do notice his eyes flit over the crowd occasionally, but it seems in line with what the other members are doing.

She quickly drapes your arm over her shoulders to stabilize you. “So what, now is the time for the sign?”

You don’t answer; regardless, she unfurls the poster. Her attempt to massage out the wrinkles are largely unnecessary—it’s already past the point of no return—but you can appreciate the effort. You’re barely able to stand up without her help.

Nearly half of the concert passes without any progress. Doyoung has stayed mostly away from your side of the stage, and when he is on your side his line of vision seems to skip right over you.

“How does he not fucking see you?” Meg shouts.

You shrug. Strangely enough, this is the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks. It’s as if all of your usual nerves have left straight on vacation.

All the snippets of memories are too much to sort through now, but there’s now two sentiments that are finally crystal clear to you throughout all lifetimes.

First: Doyoung must want you too. Either of you can choose to not pursue this connection.

Second: If it is meant to be, love will find a way.

Clearly, your Doyoung exists in an entirely different plane of existence from you. Sure, you might be soulmates, but that didn’t mean that he would choose you. That was his right, as was yours. At this point, you’re ready to accept any outcome.

Still, when the unit has transitioned to a series of ballads, you feel a flicker of annoyance. While your chances of being with him are slim to none, a small part of you craves that acknowledgement.

Can’t Help Myself, your favorite from the album, starts playing. You’ve thrown all expectation to the wind and start singing to the lyrics, even as Doyoung crosses back to your side of the stage.

Meg, on the other hand, raises the sign even higher while she screams Doyoung’s name in a way that is completely inappropriate to the tone of the song. It’s incredibly embarrassing but also endearing.

You’re half-laughing, half-cringing, until it works. Doyoung’s eyes rake over the sign, squint at Meg, then drift over from her to lock onto you.

Mine, your mind says.

Doyoung collapses onstage.

You’re even less prepared for this than you were before. The memories return and suppress all other thoughts. The terrified cries and shock of the crowd completely overtake your senses. It’s all too much.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your body folds over the barricade and hangs there like a ragdoll.

“HELP!” Meg’s voice screams over all the others. “PLEASE, MY FRIEND NEEDS SOME HELP!”

You feel someone grasp your shoulders and pluck your body out of the crowd. Then, you lose consciousness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung sits on your living room carpet with your daughter in his lap. He flips through the thick pages of a children’s picture book, sounding out words for her and pointing at each picture.

You stare at his side profile. You’re not under any other will; you’re completely you, from the present day, down to the neon green outfit. The same version of you that’s presumably passed out at his concert. Most importantly, visions should stop once you’ve finally seen your soulmate in person. You shouldn’t be here at all.  

“What’s wrong, my love?” Doyoung mumbles.

You startle. Then, you blurt: “Are you real?”

He laughs softly. “Am I real?”

Cautiously, you settle down to sit on the floor next to him. He says nothing, stroking your daughter’s hair as he waits for you to speak first.

The fact that you can speak unsettles you. After months of visions, why is this the vision that lets you have full autonomy? Why in a moment like this, with Doyoung and your daughter relaxing in the living room?

“How did we meet?” You ask suspiciously.

He raises an eyebrow, but answers regardless. “Through work.”

“Which is?”

Thankfully, he’s much more patient. “Well, I was a trainee,” he starts, “and you were about midway through your rookie year.”

Your mind goes completely blank. “Me, an idol?”

Your daughter rests her head in Doyoung’s lap, eyelids fluttering with sleepiness. Doyoung puts a finger up to his lips.

“Am I your soulmate?” you ask in a lower tone, even though you already know the answer.

“Yes.”

“Was it always obvious that we would end up…like this? Together?”

He snorts. “We broke up after I didn’t debut.”

Your heart stops. “You didn’t become an idol?”

“We were broken up for six months before you reached out to me again.” His slightly sour expression softens. “You were going through a lot of things at the time. There’s no resentment there. You asked me for a month to get to know each other again as friends, then the rest is history.”

“Weren’t you mad that I ditched you once I debuted?”

“No.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe at first. We all know that line of work is demanding, and you continued to show up after we worked everything out. You proved to me that you’d choose us over everything, and we haven’t looked back since.”

“Choose this, choose that…” You grumble as irritation pricks at you. Then, you hang your head back and wail like a child. “I’m so confused! I don’t know what all these visions are trying to tell me…”

Doyoung doesn’t respond.

“I’m not sure where I end and their memories and feelings begin,” you confess, as if this Doyoung will know what you’re talking about. “They’re not really mine, but they feel like a part of me. I’m scared that I’m getting swept away by the soulmate bond. How am I supposed to choose? What if the skeptics are right, and this whole thing has been a physiological or psychological reaction that can be explained by science?”

You expect him to be offended; by now, you know that his deep belief in destiny and timing are at the core of his being.

Instead, he says, “What if it is?”

You blink. “I don’t think a soulmate is supposed to say that.”

“Well, when we’ve talked about this before, it always comes down to the same last questions.” He thinks for a moment. “Say we get to the end of our lives and find out that the concept of ‘soulmate’ can just be explained as a physical reaction. Will you feel like you wasted your time? Your life?”

“God.” Your eyes flit to your sleeping daughter. “That’s heavy.”

Doyoung shrugs. “That’s kind of what it boils down to. What do you want to happen, regardless of fate?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be happy.”

“I see,” he says noncommittally. Doyoung’s expression is neutral. Your daughter has other ideas as she whimpers a soft cry in her sleep, which prompts him to pick up your child and cuddle her in his arms. “Do you think I can make you happy?”

The sight makes your heart clench. It triggers an ache for a life that isn’t yours; you feel guilty for intruding on this version of life. This Doyoung doesn’t belong to you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the dream lightens and fades around you. This Doyoung smiles at you one last time before you’re ripped out of this reality.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung’s first soulmate vision occurs on his eighteenth birthday. It’s something that he can’t forget even if he tries. A dream of the two of you, childhood best friends, experiencing the flutter of a first kiss. He remembers the shyness in your face along with the grounded sense of familiarity; even at eighteen, he feels that he’s known you for his entire life.

Doyoung holds your existence close to his chest. He’s already teased enough for being a romantic as it is, and he treasures your connection too much to let others weigh in. It’s only deep into his trainee period that he even divulges anything to Taeyong and Johnny in the late hours of the night.

Visions of you shimmer in and out of his life in ephemeral flashes. Sometimes you’re the only thing holding him together when his throat burns from vocal training and his muscles ache from dancing. He clings to the borrowed memories from these other lives like a promise. There’s no doubt in Doyoung's mind that your life will touch his eventually–it’s not if, it’s when.

Then his visions stop right before the tour. You’ve been such a constant in his life for the past decade that the absence of you leaves a gaping hole behind. He misses you. He’s always tried to find you, but with only your first name to go off it’s nearly impossible. Added onto the fact that, as an idol, maintaining his privacy is of the utmost importance. He doesn’t want to even think about the entities that would exploit the knowledge of Kim Doyoung’s soulmate. 

He retains his professionalism while panicking on the side. What did it mean for his visions to disappear? The disappearance on New Year’s Eve specifically feels like an omen–Doyoung swears to himself that he’ll find you once and for all when the tour ends. All his performances are dedicated in his heart to you and your safety.

So when he registers a poster with only your name on it, he can hardly believe his eyes. The girl attached to the poster is certainly not you, so he keeps looking. 

When Doyoung sees you for the first time–finally, sees you in this life for the first time–all he feels is relief and elation. You found him.

Then a wave of nausea overtakes him, and he collapses on stage. 

After the fact, staff tell him that he laid unconscious for ten minutes. To him, he spends lifetimes. 

He’s inundated with visions of this reality, for once. Doyoung sits through the nightmares with you and sees your health deteriorate with each one. It pains him to see you so overwhelmed. Sure, he had the occasional vision where the two of you didn’t work out, but ten years had given him more than enough time to parse through the philosophical questions of it all. He can’t imagine experiencing this sudden influx so late or needing to decide so quickly. There’s a rush of guilt in knowing that you’ve experienced far more negative visions of him than positive.

It’s his first time seeing you in this universe, too. You’re different from all the other versions, of course, but the core things that make up your identity are as clear to him as ever. Your ambition and drive to make things work despite all odds. Your tenacity. Your deep loyalty and care to your loved ones. 

Doyoung feels at peace. It’s still you.

He wakes up with the wide eyes of the staff all around him. They immediately have someone check him out, and even the medic is perplexed when his only symptom is a mild headache. 

“So strange,” he frowns. “Someone in the front row of the crowd fainted around the same time.”

Doyoung's heart races. “Are they alright?”

“I believe the patient is being held in one of the medical tents.” 

When he’s cleared to perform, Doyoung pops a painkiller, drinks some water, and adjusts his outfit to go out there and finish the show. Before he leaves, however, he pulls his manager aside to whisper some instructions in his ear. He raises an eyebrow but then nods.

Be there soon, Doyoung thinks as he runs to join the others.

Doyoung leaves it all out on the stage. It’s his best, most earnest performance to date.

It’s easier than usual to slip away from the main group, since today’s show had been particularly exhausting. Most of them assumed that Doyoung felt sick and told him to go rest. It’s only Johnny who eyes him sidelong, but he doesn’t say anything in the moment as he heads out to eat.

Doyoung’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he paces in front of your hotel room. He’d met Meg, thanked her for the sign, and questioned her relentlessly on your condition. Meg, from what he could tell, seemed amused as she answered each of his questions. No, you weren’t awake. Yes, the medic said all of your vitals were normal. Yes, it was likely just a fainting spell similar to his own. Yes, you would probably want to see him.

Meg emerges from the hotel room with a nod. Doyoung’s chest tightens as he takes a deep breath to open the door. 

You’re sitting upright in one of the hotel beds while focusing on alarm clock next to your nightstand. 

“Meg, this is much nicer than something you’d usually choose–” You stop mid-sentence as you turn your head to find Doyoung in Meg’s place instead. “Doyoung.” 

Sure, he’s heard you say his name before but hearing it in the flesh makes goosebumps prick up along the surface of his skin. “Hi,” he breathes your name out loud for the first time.

Your expression is wide and dazed in shock as you stare at him. “Is this a vision? Or am I dead?” 

He feels tension between his shoulder blades relax as he laughs. “We’re both very much alive. Together,” he adds at the last minute.

You look down at your hands. “...I see.” 

Your sudden shyness reminds him so much of his first soulmate vision that he wants to gather you into his arms and never let go. Instead, he asks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you pause. “How were you after collapsing?”

“I was only out for a bit, then I woke up pretty much good as new.” He leaves out the part about seeing your entire soulmate realization journey. “Did you see any vision while out?” He sits in the hotel-provided office chair and rolls it forward so he’s hovering next to your side of the bed.

You grow shy again, this time at his proximity. “I did.” 

“Me too,” he admits. “It’s hard to believe that we won’t see any more.” 

You snort. “Not that we saw them for very long to begin with.” 

Doyoung’s breath catches. He knew the differences between your visions but explaining it out loud to you in person feels extremely different. “...I actually saw my first one just over ten years ago.” 

“Ten years ago?” You nearly shout.

“Frequency of them is on and off, but I started getting them when I was eighteen.” 

He watches your face twist in different expressions as you process the information. Shock and confusion appear first before it settles into something resembling guilt. He lets you get lost in thought. To Doyoung this is just a part of his story that he’s long since accepted, but he knows all of this is brand new for you.

When you finally speak, it’s something that he doesn’t expect. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I hope you know that I don’t expect anything from you.” 

He tilts his head in confusion. “Expect anything from me?”

“I would’ve tried to find you even if you weren’t famous,” you’re talking so fast now that your mouth can barely keep up. “I’m not trying to take advantage of your fame.” 

“I didn’t think that.” Doyoung’s taken aback. Did you see him as the kind of person who would assume the worst? “I tried to find you a few times, but the visions weren’t exactly helpful in finding specific details about you. Meg’s sign was the first time I’d seen your full name.”

“Oh.” 

Your nervousness is palpable. He wishes he could transfer all your bad experiences to himself. Anything to take your pain away.

“Would you prefer it if I left?” He asks softly. “I can give you more time to— “ 

“No,” you cut him off firmly. You hesitate, just for a second, before reaching for his hand.

Now you’re both embarrassed, but you force your words out. “I don’t really understand what any of this means, still. I also don’t hold it against you if you’re disappointed. There are probably a million more interesting versions of me.”

If anything, he’s disappointed that you feel the need to self-deprecate. He sorts through his mind for a way to encompass how he’s felt about you for the past ten years, but it all seems too long winded.

Finally, he settles for a simple squeeze of your hand. “I’m happy it’s you.”

You squeeze his hand back. “I’m happy it’s you, too.”

Doyoung feels the blush blooming onto his face. The space between you is warm yet fragile. Through the haze of his giddiness, he tries to reign himself in before he scares you away. “I know this is still a lot for you, so I can meet you wherever you need me to be.”

The edges of your mouth twitch upwards in amusement. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

He blinks. “It is?”

“You’re the one who’s seen soulmate visions for ten years with no closure, but you’re more concerned about me,” you lean forward, eyes sparkling like you’re withholding a secret. “Even though I’m the reason why you collapsed at your own concert.”

“It’s not your fault!” He huffs, but you’re already laughing at his pouting. “It’s not!”

You wipe a tear from your eye. “It just made me feel relieved that it’s really you. I’m happy.” After recovering from your laughing fit, there’s a streak of makeup smudged along your upper cheekbone.

“You said that already.” Without thinking, Doyoung wipes the mark away with the pad of his thumb.

Your breath hitches. Doyoung freezes, which means that his hand effectively freezes on your cheek in turn. Then, finally, you turn your head toward his hand and press your lips on the skin. You smile.

The bashfulness in the air is replaced with something thicker and more intense than before. Doyoung’s eyes drift down to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” The words come out low and raspy. It’s surprising to even him. It’s probably too soon. He should have more self-control, damn it, but he can’t help himself. Every cell in his body craves to be closer, closer, closer.

Instead of a reply, you close the distance between you.

He’s lost track of how many first kisses he’s witnessed through other versions of himself, but this one tastes sweeter than all the rest. It’s more than just a kiss; it’s acceptance. As you lose yourselves in the other’s touch, it feels like a vow.  

“Doyoung,” you mutter between kisses.

“Mhmm?”

“Doyoung!” You pull back briefly, chest heaving for breath. “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

His heart drops. He knows this risk-averse and self-sabotaging behavior of yours. If not addressed, you’ll convince yourself to choose the safest route to protect yourself. It’s now or never.

He clears his throat. “As I said, I will meet you wherever you need me to be. It’s okay if we start off slow or just as friends. Regardless, I would love to finally get to know you. This you.” He clears his throat. “So I hope you’ll consider it.”

“Of course I want to get to know you,”you say without hesitating. You bite your lip. “Without a doubt, I know that I can care for you and fall in love with you. The last few months have convinced me of that, but I’ve also seen that love can only carry us so far. You want to try pursuing something, even knowing that other versions of us have failed?”

“We won’t fail,” he says with a calm confidence.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m choosing you—this reality with you. I will do everything in my power to take care of you.” His voice drops to a low tone. “So please trust me. Choose me too.”

With those words, you’re a goner. Truth be told, you aren’t sure if you stood a chance in the first place. He’s too easy to trust and fall into. Doyoung is everything you’ve dreamt of and more.

“Okay,” you say with a smile. “I’ll choose us too. As long as you’re really sure you want to be stuck with me.”

To know you is to love you. Doyoung’s decision was made from the moment he first saw you in his dreams.

“Of course I want to,” Doyoung says as he pulls you into another kiss. “I’ve loved you in every lifetime.”

[berzahoes]

when you know you know | tom blyth

summary: the idiots finally meet (nepo baby!reader)

an: i can always count on reddit for inspiration bc i rewrote this a bunch of times 😭 also these are just random names for the friends lol @astheni-a

“don’t look now, but the guy behind you is staring.” your friend, meg, whispered to you. you and a couple of your girlfriends were seated in the food court of the mall. after a while, meg noticed that a group of guys sat a few tables away, one of them occasionally glanced at you.

“he’s cute,” your other friend, layne, joined in.

your other friend beside you, louise, smirked at you. “someone’s got a crush. think about it, we can all go on dates together if he asks you out.”

you rolled your eyes. “i don’t even know what he looks like. meg told me not to look.”

“he has brown hair, probably six feet and really pretty eyes. i think that’s all you need to know about your future man.” meg said.

“you just described almost every boy here,” you replied. you looked down at your drink and noticed it was almost empty so you gathered your trash and decided to go throw it away. “i like being single anyways. i have more me time.”

“babe, we know you don’t like it. just talk to lover boy over there and if you don’t like him then that’s that. we won’t push you to talk to any one else ever again.” layne said.

“just this one time.” you sighed. secretly, you did want someone to love. you never had an official boyfriend. during high school, you were talking with a guy from math class, but you quickly found out he just wanted to meet your famous dad. after that, you had difficulty knowing what relationship and friendships were real.

you stood up with your empty drink cup and walked to the nearest trash can. after throwing your trash away, you tried to look over your shoulder to see what boy meg had been taking about, but you couldn’t figure out who it was. brown hair, pretty eyes, tall . . . that could be anyone.

you sighed and decided to just turn around and look instead of looking like a creep, but just as you turned around, a guy had walked right in front of you almost causing his drink to spill.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” you immediately apologize.

“it’s okay, um are you . . . okay?” he asked shyly.

“yeah, I’m good. i’m sorry again. i . . yeah sorry.” you kept repeating as you looked at his eyes. they were a beautiful blue color. you were a sucker for colored eyes. well the british accent was a bonus too.

“i’m tom.” he introduced himself.

“i’m yn. nice to meet you. sorry for almost making you drop your drink. sorry, i apologize too much. it’s a habit.” you chuckled nervously.

get it together, yn

“no, it’s fine, wasn’t really drinking it anyways. so . . are you here alone?” he asked, but regretted it immediately when he noticed it might’ve sounded creepy.

“no, i’m with my friends. i’m sorry, again, i noticed the accent, you’re british. are you visiting good ol’ new york?” you questioned.

“studying here actually. i go to juilliard. what about you?”

“i’m actually from los angeles but i visit here quite often. it’s my second home. but i do travel a lot so i call multiple places my second home. sorry if i ramble, i do that when i start getting comfortable.”

from the table, your friends saw how you talked with a stranger.

“does anyone know how to lip read?”

“shhh! shut up layne!”

“who’s gonna tell her that’s not the guy we were talking about?”

“i don’t want to break her heart. plus he does look exactly like how meg described so a win is a win.”

[revelboo]

I'm soooo obsessed with 'Skin and Bones' it makes me look stupid. I daydream about it at work lmao. Honestly fantastic

For me, it’s as fun to write soft Megatron as it is to write feral TFP Megs. Mass displaced mech 18+ 🌶️

Skin and Bones Pt 9- extended cut

IDW Megatron x Reader

Servos trembling as they curl into fists, he shrugs off Soundwave’s hand on his shoulder. Knows the communications officers is concerned, but the energon splattered on his hands and chassis isn’t his. It rarely ever is.

“Leave me,” he growls, wishing he could gentle his tone. But that fury is a living thing inside his spark. Another failed coup to put down. It’s not like it’s anything new, but he’s just so tired of it and violence is the only way to keep his throne. The only thing his followers respect and he hadn’t been able to temper his blows, because betrayal always brings out the worst in him. Those memories always too close to the surface.

Drags him right back to the gladiator pits, struggling and clawing just to survive, because one wrong move will cost his life. Never being able to relax, not even during recharge. Being the strongest had placed a target on his head. Made him plenty of enemies.

And finally alone, that rage shakes him, sinking into his spark. Because everything he’s done has been for them. Fighting for freedom, to not be leashed by the aristocracy ever again. Dragging his chair away from his desk, he slings it across the room. Wants to tear the walls down around him, but it’s the sharp cry from his berth that freezes him. Chains that fury.

Spark constricting as he realizes he’d forgotten all about you. Head turning, he finds you pressed against the wall on his berth, eyes wide with fear. Seeing the real him for the first time, the angry mech who’d fought so hard just to survive, who’d grown bitter and determined. And you’re terrified.

“Little one,” he growls, voice too rough still as he approaches. The chair didn’t land anywhere near you, but he’s been so careful to not show you the worst of him, because around you he can relax. Remember that there were times before the fights that weren’t easy by any means, but were almost happy. Companionship found with the other miners, a sense of family that had been taken from him. Reaching out a hand, he doesn’t try to touch you as you flinch back, little hands curled against yourself. Afraid if he tries to touch you, it’ll send you running. And he’s afraid of what he’ll do in turn if you reject him. He’s just so tired of it all, but you give him comfort. A little spot of trusting warmth.

Eyes shiny, you look from his outstretched hand to his face. Slowly letting out a breath and coming to him to lay a warm palm on his servo. Still trusting him even if you’re scared.

“Everything okay?” You ask, looking up at him as a single tear slides down your cheek and you reach up to scrub it away. Afraid, but asking him if he’s okay and your concern aches in his spark.

Knows how dangerous it is after the brawl he’d just had. If anyone comes looking for him, if they get past their fear and come at him together? Knows he shouldn’t risk it even as he places his ped on the berth, leaning forward and mass shifting. Closing the distance between you as he shrinks and seeing your eyes widen as he carefully grips your little hand. Even like this, you’re so much smaller than he is, fragile. But as you look up at him, he’s snared by those eyes, the little flecks of color in them he’s never noticed.

“You’re little. Smaller,” you whisper with a soft, awkward laugh, eyes dropping to stare at his hand gripping yours. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

He needs to see those eyes again, his free hand reaching to cup your soft cheek and tip your face up. Feeling when you lay your palm on his hand as he slides a servo along your cheek. Accepting his touch despite the faint tremor he can still feel, those trusting eyes seeing him. The good and the bad, and not running. Venting sharply when his touch leaves a smear of energon on your cheek, marking your skin with his sins.

Because that’s what he’s always done, isn’t it? Every time he reaches out, he just ends up destroying what he’s trying to protect.

He’s frozen, those red optics fixed on his servos against your cheek as you try to calm your racing heart. That had been the other side of the coin, the vicious warlord that the Seekers had whispered about. Feared. Red optics glowing, denta bared as he’d seized his chair in energon wet hands and thrown it. That hatred twisting his face mixed with despair, cutting you so deeply, piercing the fear.

Those wet servos are touching you, dampening your skin. And he’s just staring, venting raggedly like he’s about to lose it all over again. That’s what makes you catch his hand between both of yours when he tries to snatch it away. Eyes dropping as he hesitates and you pull, turning yourself so your back is to him, his arm under yours and pinned to your body. So you can examine that big hand. “I like when you touch my cheek or play with my hair,” you begin, unsure of how to say what you need to, what he needs to hear. Playing with a servo to curl it slightly and amazed that he’s letting you. “These hands don’t scare me, they’re warm against me when I sleep. They’re strong, but they keep me safe.”

“They destroy, too,” he murmurs.

He’s so close he’s almost touching you and you feel the warmth of him when he vents and it stirs your hair. “Mine can, too.”

He huffs out what might be a bitter laugh at that, but he would think you’re too little, too fragile to do any harm. Giving in, you lean back into him. Soaking in his warmth and safety and realizing how attached to him you are. That you like that rumbling voice, like those big, gentle hands. It’s not like you’d ever deluded yourself into thinking he was safe, but he’d made you feel seen and cherished. He’d felt safe even knowing what he was and what he’s capable of.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Tugging his hand up, you press a kiss against the center of his palm. You can’t look at him, can’t risk seeing the surprise or worse, the disgust on his face. Cause to him, you’re a pet. A weird little alien he adopted as his. So you brace yourself when he turns you, those red optics searching your face.

“You should be,” he says, cupping your face in those warm hands. “I terrify myself.” And his head dips, his mouth brushing against yours.

More of a question than a kiss, a warm stroke of his lips against yours and he’s lifting his head. Going up on tiptoes as warmth spreads through you, you catch his helm and drag him back so you can mold your own mouth to his. Wanting this, him even though it’s crazy. You’re two very different species, but being held by him, drowsing to the thrum of his spark under you, it feels like coming home. And you want all of it. Want to hang on with both hands so you’re not left alone again, because after him? You might not survive that loneliness.

His glossa slides against the seam of your lips entering when you part for him. Those big hands sliding over you, dragging you closer as your feet leave the ground. His mouth moves against yours in a hungry demand and one of his arms cages you to him.

Your mouth is all heat and hunger against his, those soft hands clinging to him as if afraid he might stop. Even if he’d wanted to, he’s not sure he could now. Because you’d reached out, taken what you wanted and given him permission to do the same. No, there’s no stopping until he takes everything he can, loses himself in whatever comfort you’ll allow him. Because you? There’s no conniving or plotting in those warm eyes. Pinning you to his frame, he goes down on his knees and lays you down under him, head lifting slightly so he can find those eyes. Reassure himself that he can have this without destroying what little he has.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, face flushed as you reach for him and how can he deny you?

Slowly so he doesn’t scare you, he finds the bottom edge of your shirt and slides it up to reveal soft skin. “I’m here,” he says and you smile faintly, little hands moving to help him strip you. And only then, bare underneath him, do you avoid his optics as he surfs a palm against you, mapping you out with his servos. “Look at me.” It’s a demand and not as gentle as he’d meant, but you hesitantly meet his optics. “We’re very different.”

“I know,” you say, reaching up to skim your fingers over his chassis in barely there touches. As if not sure if you’re allowed.

Catching your wrist, he presses your palm more firmly against him. “I like those differences.” Shifting slightly, he continues his slow exploration. Finding where he can touch you to make you shiver, squirm away, or gasp. Then his servos find you, cup you and stroke that wet heat. Realizing that as different as you are, it feels like you’re made for him as he presses a servo inside you and you arch. Primus, help him as he frees his spike. Needing to be buried deep inside you even as he strokes that servo deep.

“Don’t stop,” you protest when he pulls his hand away and he laughs softly. He can’t even if you asked him to as he shifts to cover you. Little eyes widening as you feel his spike slide against you, then slowly press inside. “Oh.”

You’re so tight and wet wrapped around his spike as he sheaths himself. He can feel you clench on him before you relax and soften as he cups your cheek. Rocks himself against you with a growl, savoring the feel of you. “I love those differences,” he snarls, beginning to move against you. Hips driving urgently against yours, still wound up with that anger from earlier. Taking that frustration out on you, claiming you rougher than he intended. And you hold onto him, murmuring against his neck. Right there, please, his name, falling almost mindlessly from your lips against the mesh of his neck. Accepting him even like this when you deserve gentle and soft.

And when you cry out and tighten on him, he keeps rutting against you. Denta bared as he thrusts and chases you over that edge. Feeling you milk his spike as he buries himself deep and releases. Claiming you as his. Needing you and those soft hands that had reached out, those eyes that had seen him and not turned away. Knows he doesn’t deserve you, but wants to hold onto this as long as you’ll trust yourself to him, because you feel more like home than anywhere he’s ever been.

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[gulliblelemon]

Young Royals Fic Recommendations 4

Find previous lists here: 1, 2, 3.

I also have my own fic list here.

the only way out is through (and other lies) by c_violet @peakotp 13k words. Complete. Rating T. Wilhelm never got out of the car that sunny, terrible June day. His moment of clarity is... delayed. A collection of ficlets, all moments from a single post-finale AU, built around the Wille's Month 2024 prompts.

Follow the Sparks by emerybemery 80k words. Complete. Rating M. Wille agrees to fake date his friend Simon, thinking it will be a simple task, over before it really begins. He could not be more wrong.

and if my heart should somehow stop by @grapehyasynth 2k words. Complete. Rating T. When he told them that he hadn’t seen Wilhelm in three years, they had asked if Simon was available, if he could come down to a morgue in the west of the city, if he could identify a body. (Happy ending!) (Honourable mention to when I'm broken and bent, would you take me on the mend by the same author)

You’re the risk I want to take by @hergrandplan 41k words. Complete. Rating M. When Simon, an editorial assistant at one of Sweden’s most prominent commercial publishing houses, stumbles upon a manuscript sent in by a mysterious W. Viklund, he doesn’t expect it to be any good. He certainly doesn’t expect to fall in love with it.

kindling by intothelight @enjoythesilentworld 4k words. Complete. Rating E. While everything around them burns, Simon and Wille find comfort in each other. (Honourable mention to Tuesdays by the same author).

Foolproof by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 73k words. Complete. Rating E. When Prince Wilhelm and Simon Eriksson run into each other at a party, they are still very much heartbroken and determined to get their partners back. Or at least get thoroughly back at them.  (Honourable mention to The Winner Takes It All by the same author).

be the place you call home by phnelt @phneltwrites 30k words. Complete. Rating E. Post-canon, after winning an award, Simon attends his first royal reception as a guest. They deal with the fallout.

Cause That's What Love Is, Darling by technicallynotafan 4k words. Complete. Rating T. Simon loves being a parent - except on those rare days when he doesn't. A non-instagram-worthy bedtime at the Eriksson household.

Even If It's Just Us by queerfrogprince @thewaterloovases 20k words. WIP. Rating M. When Wilhelm loses his brother and is left alone with his grief, a pre-booked summer trip around Europe, and no one to take in Erik's place, he finds himself inviting Simon, his former high school best friend (and long-time crush).

When I'm in your arms by saynomore @saynomorefic 781 words. Complete. Rating T. Simon reflects on physical touch throughout his relationship.

Gold and Silver by signedmeraki @invisiblewille 6k words. Complete. Rating T. Normally the main fight at the Olympics is to see who gets first. But ever since Simon took the swimming world by a storm during the Rio Olympics in 2016, it's not been a question of who would get first, but who would join the Venezuelan swimmer and his equally accomplished Swedish rival on the podium in third.

Kyss mig meg dina röda läppar by @skibasyndrome 3k words. Complete. Rating T. Wille and Simon are friends sharing cherries at a picnic. (Honourable mention to One, two, three (Not only you and me) by the same author).

my rain soaked body was shaking (do you hate me?) by sundaisyHD @sundelionskyisland 2k words. Complete. Rating T. Simon has a bad night and calls Wille, his ex.

Incognito Mode by @oneofthosebells 78k words. WIP. Rating E. Wilhelm turns to camshows to help take the edge off, and maybe explore some of those repressed feelings a little bit further. It was never meant to lead to an all-consuming obsession, falling in love, and a whole load of shit hitting the fan.

[evidenceof]

and roll credits for webgott valentine's week! long-ish post but i don't think it can be anything but saur...

haguenau is for lovers was me deciding to shoot for the moon after 1) meg wondered out loud about a webgott week (after injecting webgott into my brain), 2) i zoomed in on lieb reading sunday comics, feverishly tore through the stars and stripes archive only to realize that easy was in haguenau during valentine's week 3) caoimhe said, "haguenau is for lovers" and it sticking into my brain permanently.

that is to say, i am so very lucky to be friends with people whose thoughts are so infectious and always brilliant. would like to take this time to thank the people who held my sweaty hand all throughout my first stab at organizing a fan event.

tierney @kbsd my beloved!! thank you for literally putting up with my anxiety through all this and for reading (and proofreading) walls of text on gdocs to make sure i still sounded sane. putting up with wips for queueing and scheduling posts when i'm asleep even if you've had a Long Day of Moving houses. i would literally be in the trenches without you. thank you for never doubting me and for genuinely matching my (control) freak.

meg @ww2yaoi head webgott babe (let's all acknowledge that) for the really kind messages. they helped me more than you'd know!! licherally hilf wouldnt even be alive if i hadn't seen you post theee Webgott Wednesday Locket way back last year, and if you hadn't written lippenstift, down in the valley, no ghost looms (tbh all ur webgott) and made me spiral into this for good.

caoimhe @randlemartin. this'll sound weird but just trust ok. thank you for writing both text posts and fic that compel me to no end. the germ of the idea wouldn't have grown into anything good without it being fattened by your thoughts and words!! haguenau is for lovers <3 ik it isn't webgott, but reading delichon while prepping for this over the holidays kept me going fr.

karina @markedfordead and julia @joe-fuckingtwice-toye. your tags and everything you made throughout the event made me wanna cryyyy. they were all so sweet and genuinely, when i'd be fidgeting over the event day ahead, seeing that you two took the time to make something so lovely nearly every single day literally pacified the gnawing self-doubt hahaha thank you i mean it so much.

to everyone who participated!! wrote fics and drabbles, made web weaves, beautiful art that made me want to chew my screen because of how beautiful they all are, thank you so much!!!!!!! to everyone who rb-ed and liked, made valentines, my heart feels a lot bigger thanks to all of you.

shoutout to my laptop, photoshop, my secondhand wacom tablet that's been roi-ed the fuck out since november, my two hands, and futura condensed (1940s print would be NOTHING without you). thank god none of them decided to give up on me during event prep and proper. (and to my bubs who had to literally listen to me scream and yap about this from beginning to end. you are a saint. idk how i got so lucky to be with someone who supports my being a fujo wife with dead ww2 vets)

really wanted to keep my modding this on the down low, largely cos idk!! i just wanted the focus to be on webgott and the event, but also bc i knew this whole thing couldn't have come together because of a singular person, or even moreso, a singular interpretation of the ship. so i felt the distance was necessary. though i am proud, in a small way (im allowing myself a lil' bit of it), of being able to create a bunch of things for a pair i've fallen in love with, and for a group of people who hold so much affection for them.

all that to say! im glad to have made things with love, and (tw: cheesy as fuck) im only really able to do that bc im surrounded by people who love so beautifully. thank you all from da bottom of mi heart. if u read up until here. thank you for that too. ♡

♡ happy webgott wednesday. haguenau will always be for lovers. ♡

sorry this is literally too many scrolls down lmfao

[another-lost-mc]

I have a question about your OCs…what can turn their rough mode (on a bed) on? 👀

biggest turn-ons

featuring: azra, karasu, zekhan

cw: nsfw / mdni. gn!reader. soft incubus!azra; horny!karasu; feral!zee; demon form sex mentioned (all three); pet names (baby, dear one, darling, bunny, beloved); oral sex (reader and karasu receiving); rough sex; sex in semi-public places (karasu's office and the fall); mentions of sexting (dirty texts and videos or audio); costume play (mc wearing a bunny outfit); teasing; consensual predator/prey kink and fear play (tame and intense scenes); dom/sub undertones; monsterfucking (zee’s demon form specifically).

word count: 6.1k (thank you meg and daisy for supporting me in these dark times)

a/n: some of these ideas are plucked from their nsfw alphabets and expanded on: azra / karasu / zekhan.

AZRA

Azra can easily control when he shifts into his demon form and he wears it often. For ordinary work nights at the club, he prefers his usual suit and coat. As a powerful lust demon, he naturally feeds off the sin radiating off the patrons in the club and he shifts forms naturally when the lustful feelings start to build up inside him. He is usually in his demonic form during casual sexual encounters and reverts back to normal once the afterglow subsides.

He's more conscious about wearing his demon form around you. It's not the most frightening or extraordinary demonic appearance you've seen in the Devildom, but he is still nervous about what you think of him. He doesn't want to scare you.

Azra has a lot of sex but he is starved for genuine affection and love from others. Demons use him for his money or his body, and in the past he did the same.

Taking the time to get to know him and still being able to love him the way he is? Nothing affects him the way you do, a rare vulnerability he allows himself to indulge in because it means he gets to have you. Even the smallest bits of kindness get his heart all twisted up, and he can't resist the urge to return his feelings the best way he knows how.

The first thing you learn about being Azra’s lover is that a single kiss can quickly spiral out of control. The sweet glide of your lips against his leaves him thrumming with desire that darkens his eyes, and his fingers tremble as his hands roam eagerly across your body. His demon form is on display in its naked glory when he starts backing you carefully into his bedroom until you bump into the edge of the bed.

He resists the urge to rip your clothes to pieces and forces himself to take them off slowly, one layer at a time, until they’re scattered carelessly on the floor and your naked body is bare and pinned beneath his. The soft sheets cushion you as he lowers his body gently onto yours and he positions himself between your legs.

He groans into the open-mouthed kisses he smears across your skin while you whimper his name and card your fingers through his unruly curls. He's hard and leaking against the inside of your thighs and his tail twitches in the air behind him.

He slides slowly down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and the faintest marks behind as his mouth slots itself over your arousal and he strokes you eagerly with his talented tongue. He grinds his hips against the mattress to try and relieve the pressure of his throbbing cock, but he doesn’t want to come unless it’s inside you.

Your soul is consumed by fiery lust and it satisfies him in a way no one else’s sin has ever affected him before. He groans your name between soft, sucking kisses and gentle flicks of his tongue against your entrance, and it sends shivers through the rest of your body. His hands hold your shaky thighs steady where they rest on his shoulders, and by the time he drinks down the release you spill across his tongue, you're stretched and ready for him.

You're still reeling from your orgasm when he moves up the bed and positions himself between your legs. He hooks one of your legs against his hips and pushes it up slightly, giving him the perfect angle so he can sheathe himself inside with one smooth stroke.

"I’ll go slow next time, baby, I promise," he murmurs against your lips, lifting his hand to brace himself against the headboard. "But I don’t think I can wait anymore."

He starts fucking you with deep, heavy thrusts, and each one draws a little hiccuped gasp or moan from your lips. He crashes his lips against yours and moans and pants into your mouth. The wooden frame cracks slightly from the pressure of his fingertips and the headboard thumps against the wall, but all you can hear are the strangled groans and curses he muffles into the crook of your neck.

His rhythm picks up speed and his thrusts grow wet and sloppy with his cum when he finally spills inside you with a growl. He tosses his head back and his eyes wince shut from the sensitivity, but he can’t resist the urge to fuck his seed back inside you, not when you writhe helplessly against his sheets and dig your fingers into his back and beg him to keep going.

You’re smothered beneath his body as he stuffs you full with his cum, and his tail coils around the leg wrapped around his waist to hold you in place so he can reach between your bodies and stroke you in time with his desperate thrusts instead.

By the time you come around his cock, you’re both drunk from lust and love and utterly insatiable.

“Don’t stop,” your broken whimpers plead where you press your forehead against his shoulder, and you lave your tongue across his hot, sweaty skin. “Want more of you.”

“I won’t stop, baby,” his raspy voice promises as he rises to his knees and brings your legs up to sit on his shoulders, and he folds you in half so he can fuck you properly. “I can’t.”

KARASU

Karasu uses his wings often, but he rarely shifts into his full demon form. He usually has excellent control over that part of himself, except when he's in bed with you. If things get particularly intense (or if he's in a more dominant/aggressive mood), he might shift to his full form without meaning to. He's so careful with his talons that you might not even realize it at first, unless he clenches the sheets on either side of your head or you catch a glimpse of sharp, black claws before his hand disappears between your legs.

It doesn't take much to get him in the mood. He’s a wonderful contradiction of a demon who accepts your praise or your teasing hints of degradation in equal stride. He’s so easily aroused by the most innocent words or gestures and even the simplest compliments make him feel a little desperate.

Wearing something he bought for you gives him a sudden itch to take it off you again. Wearing something of his means he gets to leave his scent on you in more ways than one by the time he has you on your back or your stomach underneath him.

Sending his D.D.D. dirty messages when he least expects it is almost guaranteed to give him an aching erection no matter where he is or what he’s doing. A flirty text or a suggestive photo that shows him a hint of naked skin is more than enough to leave him panting while his erection stirs to life and presses against the zipper of his pants.

And then there are times when he’s the one trying to entice you to be a little naughty. He sends you filthy texts while you’re at RAD and describes whatever wicked fantasy he dreamt about last night, or he recites in excruciating detail all his dirty thoughts while he fisted his cock that morning.

He calls you and leaves you sweet messages to have a nice day and to think about all the ways he plans on touching you and kissing you and fucking you when he sees you later.

Sometimes you have a bit of free time in your schedule, so perhaps a little visit at his office would do you both some good.

Karasu is so considerate.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. You wake up each morning to a sweet-as-sugar message on your D.D.D., or if you stayed overnight in his nest, he wakes you with a line of sleepy kisses along your shoulder and a soft, "Good morning, dear one," murmured huskily into your ear.

He would argue that caring for you is simple, a natural instinct that stirs inside him to provide for you and make you smile and keep you safe. Your comfort is his utmost priority.

Sometimes that means pushing you away from where you're nuzzling against his aching erection through his suit so he can slide off his jacket. 

"Wait," he asks breathlessly, handing you the bespoke garment that crumples in his twitchy grip like paper. "Sit on this, darling." 

If you're so eager to kneel on his office floor in an eager rush to suck his cock, the least he can do is make sure your knees won't be too sore afterwards.

His stifled whimpers and moans start to fill the office and you've barely touched him; the anticipation of what’s to come is enough to leave him a trembling mess. His fingers clench the armrests of his chair while you flick open his belt and tug down the zipper with a jovial little hum.

The tip of his cock glistens when you tug down his boxer briefs, and he exhales a sharp little whine when you lick at the salty beads oozing slowly from the tip. His chair shakes from the tremor in his thighs, and his hips twitch and jerk restlessly while you lick broad, thick stripes along his shaft before easing him between your lips. He's hot and heavy on your tongue, and you wrap your fingers at his base where his dawny-soft black hair cushions your fist. You pump him slowly, smooth and wet from the spit pooling in your mouth and dripping down his cock, while your head bobs up and down his length in a steady rhythm.

He's so lost in the hot, wet vice of your mouth that he doesn't notice that his glasses slip off the bridge of his nose and clatter or the floor, or that the armrests of his chair are ruined by deep, scraggly lines where his nails scramble to find purchase.

All that matters — all he cares about — is that you don't stop.

"I'm—I'm close," he whines noisily, panting deep in his chest. His back arches away from the chair and he pushes deeper into your mouth, but he stammers out an apology when he realizes what he’s done.

You curl your fingers around the curve of his hip to encourage him to move and to take what he wants from you. He hesitates for a moment, but then a shaky hand rests gently on the crown of your head, not pushing you down but simply holding you there. His fingers twitch helplessly against your scalp as his hips jerk into your mouth and the noises and choked pleas tumbling from his lips grow louder and more desperate.

A loud, monotonous chime from his terminal startles you both, and he whines so pathetically at the interruption. It’s a weekly meeting he forgot about, boring and unnecessary but mandatory, and he nearly curses in frustration.

Voices stream quietly into the room as the program pops up on his monitor. Your shoulders slump slightly with a deflated sigh, but his hand on the back of your head keeps you from moving away. When you shoot him a questioning look, he glances at the screen and back to you again, and he nibbles on his bottom lip while he contemplates his choices.

He should compose himself and bid you farewell until this evening when he's finished work for the day, but that’s easier said than done. You’re still kneeling at his feet, your bright eyes are glassy and wet and dark with desires of your own, and your lips are plump and shiny and so utterly kissable. His abdomen twitches with the disappointment of his interrupted release and he can only imagine how desperate you are, even though you’re hiding your own needs while satisfying his own.

It's not like he ever needs to speak at these meetings anyway, and knowing that, it doesn’t take him long to decide at all.

He confirms his camera is off and he's muted on the call before he pulls gently on the back of your neck and urges your mouth towards his cock again. His spontaneous burst of greedy lust warms the blood in your veins and shoots straight to the spot between your legs. You’re throbbing from your own neglected arousal and it certainly doesn’t help that he lets out the most sinful, desperate moan when you take him back into the wet heat of your mouth.

He cradles the sides of your face gently when you begin moving up and down his cock with renewed vigor. His hips are rocking of their own volition now, shallow and arhythmic but still so needy, and you know he must be close. When you glance up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s utterly entranced by the sight of your fingers pumping his shaft while you suck on the dark, pulsing head of his cock before sliding your lips down his length over and over again.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—!” His high-pitched whine serves as a warning so that you can move your mouth away if you don’t want his seed in your mouth, but your lover is nothing but considerate, and you reward him by taking him deeper than before, teasing your gag reflex and letting him feel you choke on his cock.

He covers his mouth to muffle himself as he spills down your throat with a sharp gasp and a wailing cry, and your lips drag along his cock one more time as you pull back just to hear him whimper from the sensitivity. He watches with a heavy, half-lidded gaze and swallows hard when you wipe a smear of cum from the corner of your mouth and lick it clean.

He goes completely still for a moment, but then his cock twitches with renewed interest and he pulls you off the floor and into his lap. He breathes your name with utter reverence when he slides his hand into your pants and feels how soaked you are between your legs. His fingers stroke you gently and you let him taste himself when you lean forward and kiss him.

You rock your hips and coax his hand closer to where you want it most while your thighs shake on either side of his hips. Warm puffs of air against the soft skin of your neck makes you shudder in his embrace, and he murmurs sweet praise while he fucks you with his greedy fingers (and his tongue after that, and then his cock when he’s hard again and he finally bends you over his desk).

ZEKHAN

Compared to the others, Zekhan has the most control over his demonic form. Even if he accompanies you to a party at the prince's castle, he's one of the few demons in attendance that hides his demonic appearance. It's very rare that he would shift into it by accident, although a wrath-driven rage could trigger that. 

He doesn't want to use his demonic form in bed with you, at least not right away. It will take a long time before he's comfortable letting you see it. The scars on his body are more prominent in that form and he's self-conscious about them. It's also a bit more animalistic than some of the other demons you know, and he's worried about your reaction to his wings and claws and ears.

He will shift into his true form for certain predator/prey-type games you play together, but he's usually obscured by darkness. That gives you the chance to explore him slowly and at his pace while letting him indulge in the rare sensation of your hands or mouth moving across his body. 

A lot of things turn him on, but he's a bit more disciplined about curbing his impulse to act on it right away. He likes to tease you and let the anticipation build. Sending each other dirty texts while he's at work (or while you're at RAD) are a guaranteed way to stir his interest.

Although he tries to be gentle with you, he's the most feral if you tease him with an opportunity to play one of your little games together. He's happy to indulge you with whatever level of excitement (or fear) you're comfortable with; you're his prize at the end either way, and that's enough to satisfy him.

Once you're in a relationship, Zee realizes his biggest mistake is underestimating you. He knows you'll be attending tonight's bunny event at The Fall for the first time since you arrived in the Devildom. What he doesn't expect is for you to walk through the front doors, surrounded by the Avatars of Sin, in a bunny outfit of your very own.

He can only assume that Azra and Asmodeus conspired to keep this secret from him, and what a lovely secret it is. The bunny ears on your head bend slightly at the ends which gives them a floppy appearance. They would look ridiculous on most people, but on you, they’re positively charming. The colourful jewel-toned ears bounce slightly with each step you take, and the colours suit you so beautifully that it confirms for him that this outfit was custom-made for you.

He spots a flash of white when you turn around to speak to someone, and he realizes there's a little tail attached to the back of your suit too.

Fucking hell.

He tilts his head to the side as he drinks in your appearance and considers all the delightfully wicked things he’d like to do to you. It’s calculating, almost predatory how his golden eyes darken as lust pools behind them. Something primal stirs deep in his chest the longer he stares at you. You're the tasty little treat that's stepped into his domain, and he'd love nothing more than to devour you.

As if you can hear his thoughts, you look around until you catch his piercing stare from across the room; even from that far away, the glint in his eyes is positively hungry. You can’t help but stare doe-eyed as he wets his mouth, running his tongue slowly along his bottom lip and teasing you with the tiniest glimpse of his fangs.

His sensitive hearing picks up your sharp intake of breath, and he smirks at the flustered expression on your face before you concede and finally look away.

He carries on with overseeing the final preparations like nothing happened while you walk away with the others and head further into the club. A chilly sensation spreads through him that he can only describe as longing when you finally step out of his view, but he ignores the feeling for now.

Besides, the evening is just getting started.

ZEKHAN: I came to visit you on your break but you're not resting with the others. Where are you hiding, bunny?

YOU: Come find me and you'll see. 🐰

ZEKHAN: A tempting offer.

ZEKHAN: Beloved, I'm asking you sincerely.

ZEKHAN: Do you want to play that game right now?

YOU: Yes I do.

YOU: Please? I know you do too.

ZEKHAN: Such a naughty thing.

ZEKHAN: Very well. Stay where you are, hm? 

YOU: If you don't hurry, I might finish before you get here.

There are several places in the club you can hide from him. He’s shown you most of them himself when he originally gave you a tour when you were a new arrival to the Devildom. Later on, he realized how convenient they were when he was desperate to fuck you somewhere you wouldn’t get caught.

This particular game requires a certain amount of privacy and space. He searches the obvious locations first - the staff break rooms, the mostly-empty offices on the second floor, the cluster of private rooms patrons can rent for the evening - but finds no trace of you or those floppy ears or that cottony-soft tail.

When he finally picks up the faintest whiff of your scent near the door that leads to the basement, he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Of course you’re clever enough to lead him somewhere cool and dark where there’s very little risk of being interrupted.

There's only a sliver of moonlight that shines through one of the tiny windows near the basement ceiling. It only takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, and he groans when he finally spots you leaning against the wall across from him. The buttons of your shirt are undone and he can see the strip of naked skin where it falls open. He notices a moment later that one of your hands is under the waistband of your pants and he can hear and smell the scent of your arousal as you stroke lazily between your legs.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and makes his mouth run dry. Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze at last, and it’s so satisfying to see the desire swirling in your dark eyes is strong enough to match his own.

He crosses the room in an instant and there's a faint gust of air as his wings manifest and open wide with a leathery snap. He maneuvers you quickly as if you weigh nothing and bends you over a rickety old table, yanking your tedious clothes down and out of the way until he can finally touch your bare skin with his clawed fingers.

You stare transfixed at the monstrous shadow on the wall as he stretches you open with his thick fingers first, carefully so he doesn’t scratch you, and then his cock once you’re slippery with his spit and lube. His lips brush against your temple and behind your ear, littering your skin with soft kisses while you adjust to the feeling of him stretching you open. His hips rock in a slow grind until you're ready and then he moves slowly at first, thrusting inside you with slow strokes that slowly gather speed with every desperate, whiny moan that he pulls from your throat.

He makes a questioning sound when you reach over your shoulder and offer him your fingers, still sticky from when you touched yourself earlier, and he sucks them eagerly into his mouth with a growl as he starts fucking you in earnest. Your fingers slip from his mouth once he's licked them clean, and he traps them gently between his teeth before you can pull them away completely.

His pace quickens and his thrusts grow more forceful when you push your hips back and match his rhythm. One of your hands ends up tangled in his hair while your back arches against his chest, and he breathes hot and damp against the back of your neck and grunts in your ear.

You can barely hear the obscene squelch your bodies make as he fucks you senseless, or the creak of the wobbly furniture supporting your combined weight, or the scratching sound of his fingers digging into the wood for leverage.

Your body clenches around him and when he feels his orgasm approaching, he reaches between your legs and strokes you in time with his thrusts; you finally come with a cry, and he follows behind you with a raspy groan of your name. He fucks you through the aftershocks of your pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts and finally stops once you've milked him dry. His body shakes from the overstimulation of fucking his cum back inside you.

By the time your thighs stop trembling and he turns you in his arms, all evidence of his demon form is gone; only the slight pulsing glow of his golden-yellow eyes remains. He kisses you softly with just a hint of tongue and teeth while you both sigh into each others’ mouths.

As always, he came prepared. He reaches into his suit jacket and slips his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose first before he pulls out a small packet of wet wipes. He kisses your thighs and nips playfully at the sensitive skin while he wipes the slick and cum away; he’s satisfied you’ll still smell like him but now you can finish the evening more comfortably.

He straightens your clothes for you and as he buttons up your shirt, he leans forward and kisses the bare skin that slowly disappears from view. One more kiss and a murmured I love you is all you have time for before he leads you back upstairs, and he smirks when you walk away with the slightest hitch in your step.

(You're only a few minutes late returning from your break, but no one bothers to ask where you were - they can already guess.)

A more intense version of this little game involves waiting until the event is over and taking a short drive to the outskirts of the city.

The quiet anticipation in the car is nearly suffocating, and Zee glances at you with a guarded look from the corner of his eye. He drives one-handed and steers the car expertly to your destination while the other rests on your thigh; it feels like a fiery-hot brand through your clothes.

He seems unaffected by the lust radiating off both of you like a fog, but the tips of his fangs peek underneath the hungry curl of his lips. When you glance down at his lap, there’s a growing wet stain where his hard and eager cock strains against his pants.

The location he takes you to is a large patch of forest at the back of Azra's estate. It's far enough away to give you both the privacy you need, but it’s close enough that help is nearby if anything goes wrong. The area is scouted regularly to make sure there are no dangerous creatures lurking inside the woods that might harm you while you’re alone and vulnerable.

Zee drives the car to the end of the dirt road that ends near the tree line. He exhales sharply through his nose and puts his glasses in the glove compartment before getting out of the car and walking around the vehicle to help you out of your seat.

He’s usually sweet and affectionate before these types of games, but tonight he rests his hands on your shoulders to keep you from stepping too close to him.

"I love you." His voice is rough but his eyes burn with the steady glow of his body overcome with sin, and you learned how to read the emotions in his gaze by now: love, desire, hunger.

"I love you too."

His hands slide up your neck and brush the sides of your face. "Colour?" he asks quietly. His thumbs rub soft circles into the dimples of your cheeks when you smile.

"Green."

Something in the air shifts, like cool air roiling over you before a storm, and he circles you slowly - the way a predator would - until he stands at your back. There's a familiar ruffle of fabric and leather behind you, then he smooths his hands gently over your shoulders. A clawed wing curls around the side of your body and strokes your cheek with surprising tenderness.

"Time to run, bunny." Hot breath tickles your ear when he leans forward and kisses the words into your skin. "Don’t stop and don’t look back."

The growl in his voice causes goosebumps to break out across your skin and you freeze. Normally he waits for you to make it to the woods before he changes form but so many things about tonight are different.

What does it say about how much he trusts you that he would do it so soon?

And what does it say about how uncontrollably desperate he is for you?

But you don’t have time to contemplate the answers to either of those questions, not when feet shuffle behind you in restless anticipation. 

You take one hesitant step forward, and then another, until you're running into the dark forest that welcomes you into its maw. The trees looming overhead block most of the moonlight and you slow down while your eyesight adjusts. Your D.D.D. is in your pocket, but illuminating your path with the flashlight would be cheating; it’s also a visual signal to him that you want the game to end, and it’s far too soon for that.

The branches high above your head rustle in the night's cool breeze and ambient noises of the forest echo all around you. You can’t be sure how long it’s been, but it’s curious that you've not seen or heard any sign of him behind you. Sometimes he likes to call out to you teasingly, goading you into some sort of response that will lead him closer to your position. He can be so mischievous and playful when he brings you here, but tonight the tension of his unusual behaviour settles uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach.

You recall how stiff he was earlier, how restless he was like he couldn’t wait to sink his cock or his teeth into you. You remember the rumbling growls in his chest on the drive here, the way his hand shook on your thigh. You realize he’s not patient enough to play a drawn-out game tonight, and the implication is terrifying and arousing in equal measure.

The forest might be safe for you to venture in alone, but there are still other creatures that live here. Small Devildom rodents skitter across the ground and up into the trees. Birds with unfamiliar hoots and caws watch you from above with their strange, unblinking eyes. The occasional snap of a branch or the sudden rustle of leaves startles you like thunder; the sounds carry on the wind and it's impossible to pinpoint where they're coming from.

You shriek more than once when you spin around and look for a pair of golden eyes peering at you from the darkness, but there’s nothing there despite the heavy sensation of a weighted gaze searing into your back the moment you turn around again.

A sudden, startlingly loud crash nearby rips a scream from your throat and your eyes catch movement in your peripheral view. When you squint into the distance, you can see a splintering branch hanging precariously from one of the tall trees before it drops to the ground.

Was the branch already damaged and it finally gave way on its own?

Or was it broken by the weight of something stalking its prey from high above?

You carefully step back away from the tree as if you expect something - or someone - to jump out at you from the undergrowth, but nothing happens.

You stumble into something warm and solid behind you and strong arms wrap around you to keep you from falling, and a hoarse scream dies in your throat when he covers your mouth with his hand.

So this is how the game finally ends.

He utters your name in a raspy whisper close to your ear; his voice sounds as rough as yours does. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes when you sag against him, even though adrenaline and fear slowly fade from your still-trembling body.

"You did so well." His praise soothes your rattled nerves and you lean further back against him. His hand slides away from your mouth until it rests above your hammering heartbeat.

His skin feels feverishly hot against your back and he’s slightly damp with sweat. You’re lost in the cloud of his scent, one that's so perfectly him, something fresh and earthy like wet leaves after a thunderstorm.

"Zee." His name is a broken whimper that falls from your lips. His other hand slides down your front and his fingers tease along your waist before dipping down into your pants. He curses under his breath when he feels the hot, slick proof of your arousal between your legs.

"Colour," he grits out, a strangled plea that betrays the desire coursing through him. 

"G-green, please, green," you answer with a hiccup.

He removes his hand from your pants so he can push you to your hands and knees on the forest floor. He shushes you when you whine at the loss of his fingers and he drapes himself over your back, a move that feels protective as much as it does possessive, and he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep and savours the scent of your sweat and perfume and arousal and fear on his tongue, and his hips jerk and grind his erection against the swell of your ass.

"Want you," you whine pathetically when you wiggle your hips back and encourage him to give you more.

"I'm here.” The tremor in his voice betrays his fraying self-control but his promise sounds sincere. "You have me."

Hot, open-mouthed kisses sear across the back of your neck and along your jaw as he grasps your chin and tilts your face towards his. You can't see him through the watery sheen that pools along your lashes, but you catch a glimpse of his lust-darkened eyes and the bulky shape of his wingspan at his back. When his mouth presses against yours, it's less of a kiss and more of a desperate glide of tongue-against-tongue between deep, shuddering breaths and needy moans.

"You're so perfect," he whispers thickly as he pulls away from your mouth and flicks his tongue against your ear. He braces himself with one clawed hand digging into the earth while the other tears at the front of your shirt. Buttons pop from the seams as the flimsy fabric gives way to his sharp nails and inhuman strength.

He leans back on his knees with a shuddered sigh as he rips the fabric away and exposes your bare back to him. He rubs up and down the grooves of your spine and trails his fingers over the curve of your hips. "You’re so, so lovely like this. Fuck, the things I want to do to you."

You rest your cheek on your arms when he pushes your chest down and encourages your back to curve into a deeper arch. Firm hands grip the sides of your pants next and tear them away next, followed by your flimsy underwear. The cool night air chills your bare skin until he leans over you and warms your body with his own.

You’re utterly trapped beneath him, naked and vulnerable in a way that should fill you with shame or fear, but his words are genuine and his touch is gentle. 

Perhaps this little tease would go on a little longer, but you know he’s already testing the limits of his self-control and you don’t want to wait anymore either.

You’ve wanted this all night, and you need him now, desperately.

“Show me then. I want you to, please.”

You squirm with anticipation when he lets out a rumbling growl close to your ear. Something hot and heavy, slick with a generous layer of lube, moves between your legs and nudges at your entrance with the faintest bit of pressure. The tip of his cock teases you with shallow dips as he stretches you open slowly, each stroke sliding in deeper, inch by agonizing inch. He teases the sensitive spot inside you until he finally buries himself to the hilt with a snarl, and you answer with a startled cry as the pulsing emptiness inside is deliciously filled by him.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises darkly as he starts moving at a brutal pace, and his clawed fingers dig into your hips and pull you down onto his cock to meet each of his deep, perfect thrusts. “Now take it.”

Azra has a vague idea of what happens when Zee takes you to the forest behind his house. He doesn't need or want the details as long as you're both happy and unharmed. However, it takes him far too long to notice that your visits to the woods coincide with certain parties at The Fall, and he's genuinely confused as he looks over preparations for the upcoming bunny event.

"Wait, we had to buy another bunny outfit?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he reads over the invoice in his hands. "What happened to the other one? The last event was only a month ago.” Now that he thinks about it, he vaguely recalls ordering a new uniform for you then, too. "This must be the third one we've replaced by now."

Zee pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a hum. "The fourth, actually. If it helps, I still have the bunny ear headbands." His lips twitch into a remorseful smile, but the gleam in his eyes is far too pleased for his apology to be sincere. "Unfortunately, the rest was...unsalvageable."

return to: oc masterlist | obey me masterlist

[yume-writes]

Hiya! Me Again, Since we're talking about Angst and Trauma for our Characters here. Why not further add past Megop if you don't?

So After Rescuing and healing progresses Blue cop from Megatron's clutches yet fumbles yet again. Months Pass by and Megatron has Gotten low as in DEEP DEEP DEEP By Unicron's Standards that even a slight colour of Blue and Red together will make him insane. But he's not idiotically blindly to get His Paxes Back, see what I mean? He not only wants Blue Cop but also Optimus Aswell back after for the First, Second, and third (being Blue cop) from his clutches. Again...

The Vehicons and Decepticons are not only grown tired to this already, (This ain't the first time he's this fumbled badly) but also worried not for him, but themselves and their safety by his obsession, just wanting this war to be over and done. Starscream begins to rant sarcastically and mocking his actions to taunt him immediately before regretting it. "If you want to get prime and this fragging war over then why don't you planned an Arranged Conjux's like the old days in Cybertron to stop It!" (Star, I love you and your schemes but you're going to regret this...)

Megatron stopped to slowly stare at Starscream with all the other Decepticons following as well, one of the Vehicons praying and Knockout planning his funeral after what Starscream just said, thinking he was dead before Megatron immediately paused and before speaking: "If that's how I'll get MY Orion Back, then so be it... Everyone! Battle your stations, we're going to Plan this Ceremony before meeting with the Autobots. Decepticons, Rise Up!

All Decepticons including Starscream are Immediately shocked by his sudden revelation but immediately followed orders for Megatron while silently in their Mind Blaming Starscream for initiating this situation, If ONLY He kept his Mouth shut then no one would have to plan this Doomed wedding to begin with. THANKS A LOT STARSCREAM!

MCB x TFP crossover

Everyone begins planning Starscream's assassination at that moment

They all honestly thought Megatron couldn't get any worse, they fully honestly thought, and then this happens. They all thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a phase and he would go back to being his normal self. Now the cons have to plan a wedding. Do you know how many weddings there have been since the war started? Not a lot! And definitely not a lot for the cons. Not a single one knows how to plan this wedding

Throughout the Nemesis all the cons are rushing around trying to find out how to do this. The only one with any knowledge is Soundwave, and that's because they've been checking old resources. Soundwave is, frankly, over Megatron's obsession, they had to deal with this the first, second, and third time. When Megs became obsessed with Blue Cop, that was honestly the closest time they came to questioning their loyalty.The poor Vehicons are trying their best, but they get it wrong every time. They even sometimes put up human holiday decorations, no one knows where they got it from

And to make things worse, Megatron is a control freak. Everything about the ceremony has to be run by him, even the smallest most inconsequential things. And the consequences for failing his checks are harsh, by this time Starscream has made himself scarce. Megatron has elected Knockout to make him look good for the ceremony, he obviously does this but if Megatron insults his choices one more time he will quit and join the bots

When they finally finish it, they immediately head out to get Op and Blue Cop. The cons make a plan to get OP and Blue Cop alone, when they finally get both of them they bring them to Megatron. He makes his speech as Blue Cop is freaking out and OP is glaring at him. But the time Megs reveals why they're there, both of them are shocked and confused. And they reject him, of course, but Megs isn't accepting that

He makes them go through the ceremony, with them struggling all the while. During the whole time, Megs is just ranting to himself, it's clear to see how far he's fallen. Op feels pity towards him, Blue Cop is about to jump out the nearest window to get away. By this point in time the bots can get to the Nemesis quickly because of the number of times a cardbot has been held hostage

But the security is much stronger this time around, the bots almost retreat due to it, but they keep going. By the time they get to the ceremony, Megatron has taken both OP and Blue Cop hostage, holding a cannon to them. He is sick of losing them, he's sick of losing them to the bots. Either he gets them or no one will. Thanks to Shadow X, he distracts Megs and the bots get the two back

This time Megatron doesn't scream or yell when they're taken. He just stands there, clenching his fists so tightly you can hear metal creak, he's shaking violently. No one speaks, no one moves, and everyone looks at Starscream to do something. He's the one that started this, he should finish it. Starscream accepts his fate, goes up to Megatron and before he can even finish addressing Megatron, he gets shot at with a cannon

No one speaks as Starscream goes down, they're terrified. Megatron turns around and leaves the area with a look of pure hatred on his face

If the bots are the reason why he can't get what he wants, he just needs to get rid of them

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Desire (part 1)

Player 001 x Reader📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: Takes place during Season 1, you were a finalist along with Sang-Woo. In this, Gi-Hun does not exist (protecting cannon and the time line in my other stories).

Tw: blood, death, a scene where reader is fighting their final competitor.

You stood at the summit of the game, knowing the only thing that stood in front of you was nothing but a man, nothing but an object. You didn’t care that he was breathing, living, existing, you were here to win. You wanted money. It was obvious from the very beginning, it was you or them. Your tux was soaked now, as it began raining. Not hesitating, you pulled the knife from your sock.

“You’re that weak you already pulled the knife?” The other player taunted from the outside.

“No” you laughed. “It’s just, it’s you or me. You see, human life means nothing to me. The only one that matters is mine, yours?” You paused, deciding on what words to say. “You’re just a paperweight, keeping my money down so it doesn’t float away, but when I pick up the paperweight, the money flies away.”

“And you think I’m gonna let you just walk away with that money?” He snarls. In Ho watched from beside the VIPs.

“What is going on down there?” One of them asked.

“What is happening on the play field?” In Ho radioed it in.

“Player 456 is going to kill him. Sir, she called him a paperweight” In Ho held in his laughter. Thats my girl he thought. He couldn’t deny, he’d been rooting for you since he saw you, ecstatic when you made it to the finals. You were absolutely gorgeous. You (h/c) hair, your deathly (e/c). You were a true killer at heart, and he knew it. You’d be great for the games.

“Oh shit, she called him a paperweight” one of the VIPs said, following it with a bunch of ‘Ooo’s’ like they were 10 year old kids at the lunch table in the middle of a ‘Yo mama’ battle.

“tell him to turn on the voice feedback, I wanna hear it all. This is interesting” another VIP said. In Ho radioed it in.

“No, I dont think you’re gonna let me walk off with that money, dumbass.” You rolled your eyes. Though, not visible because you were squinting to keep water from getting in your eyes. “That’s why I’m just going to kill you and take it.”

“That’s not playing fair” he said as he pulled his own knife from his pocket.

“No one said this was a fair mans game, Sang Woo” you declare loudly. “This is a game that only the best of the best can survive. Why do you think I’ve made it so far? Because I’m the best”

“Then what does that make me?” He asked closing in on you. An alarm rang in his head as he realized you didn’t back away. Scaring you wasn’t going to work.

“Collateral” you say, taking a quick few steps and taking a swipe at him. Managing to cut his arm. He missed his one opportunity to hit you as you passed him. You stood far from him. In a single instance, he ran towards you, you began running towards him. His arm cocked back told you what he was going to do before he did it, you quickly dropped and slid on the gravel, slicing his ankle, cutting him deeply. Leaving him on the floor. Blood pooling around his injured foot. It wasn’t until you turned that you saw your blood was dripping down your nose, he got your eye. You struggled to see out of your right eye. You were pissed.

“I’m not collateral if you can’t see, (y/n)” he laughed as he tried to stand. Successfully making it to his feet. You wiped blood off your face, ignoring the pain you felt in it.

“That’s true, but you can barely walk. You see, Sang Woo, I know I called you a paperweight, but, you’re less than that. You are nothing more than an incompetent fool. You’re nothing of value anymore, useless. Paperweights have value and use, you have neither.” You tell him as you approach him, ducking his hands as the swiped around trying to slice you. You jammed your knife into his body, helping him kneel before you. His knife dropping to the floor as he reached to his new wound.

“You’re a monster” he told you. You ripped your knife from him. Pulling it back and wiping it on his shirt.

“No, Sang Woo, I’m better than a monster” you said calmly. “I’m a demon” you said slicing his throat. Watching as he rushed his hands up to his neck together. You kicked in his chest, watching him fall back. You turned towards the window where the VIPs watched. You bowed. In Ho bowed back, not that you could see, but he was signifying his respect for you. You truly were made for the games, engineered by the worst of the worst to be the best. You were made for him. The guards declared you the winner, but you already knew that.

“Holy shit! That was crazy!” A VIP said aloud. “She was heartless”

“No, you saw the way she kicked him back as he was trying to hold his head. That was insane” a third one spoke.

“No it was the calling him collateral” another voiced. In Ho silently left the guests to attend to you.

Being ushered to the doctor to close up that wound on your eye, a square walked in just as you were denying an eye patch.

“The Front Man would like to formally congratulate you. Please follow me and join him for dinner and a meeting.” You hopped off of the table and followed him. Snatching the eye patch before disappearing around the corner. You were led into a big black and gold room. A man in black stood in the center.

“(Y/n), I am The Front Man, the boss of the games” he spoke. “I would like to formally congratulate congratulate you on your victory against Sang Woo” he offered his hand, which you took.

“Thank you, sir” he smelt good, like expensive bourbon and leather. His voice was velvety and thick, satisfying your ears. You couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under those clothes. What did his face look like?

“I’d like to invite you to dinner, as a gesture of my appreciation of you playing the games, and as a token of my being in awe of your performance on the game floor.”

“Will I get clean clothes?” You ask as you remembered yours were still soaked.

“Yes, of course. Black or gold?” he pointed to two long silk dresses that sat on his bed, each accompanied with two different pairs of shoes to wear for each dress.

“What color will you be wearing?” You ask slyly.

“Black.”

“I will wear gold to compliment you as your guest, black heels please” you said.

“Please feel free to use my quarters to get cleaned up. Anything else?”

“Make up”

“Already provided, and everything you may need for your hair.” He said.

Time skip: you stood in front of the mirror, putting on a pair of gold earrings. A gift, rushed onto the island after your victory, along with many things”. He knocked on the door, standing in an all black tux, complete with a gold neck tie.

Tag list

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[theamazingmaddyas]

Look, I love The Sun and The Star as much as the next person; as someone who's written and consumed Solangelo media for years, but also loves comparing fics and headcanons to canon, the fact that I could get confirmation about whether headcanons of mine could possibly line up with the author's was amazing.

That being said, one super minor detail that has irked me since I bought the digital version of The Sword of Hades despite having a physical copy in The Demigod Files just so I could read the preview of the first chapter is what happened to the year rounders from the Hidden Oracle.

While we can't get tons of information on every minor character because the books would be miles long, but every character has their own story, even if we can't see it. Chiron says in TSATS that demigods probably want to see the world, especially after the few years they had, but if they've stayed at camp for a while, do they have a place to go? Do they have somewhere to live outside camp?

With this in thought, and more, I give you; my headcanons for what every single minor demigod at CHB in TOA is doing during the events of TSATS:

Note: I'm skipping Will, Nico, Austin, and Kayla as we know where they are as TSATS states it explicitly.

Billie Ng — Aeithales

Aeithales, for those who aren't great with place names, is the name of Philip McCaffrey's botany research facility that Meg refurbished for herself, the nymphs from the greenhouse, the Meliai, the children from Nero's army, Lu, and Herophile. It doesn't seem completely out there to believe that Meg invited her sibling(s) who don't have mortal families, whether because they're deceased or they don't get along, to live with her. Especially since Meg is working to restore Aeithales to it's former glory.

I hc she's about 14, so she'd probably attend the local high school with the older Nero adoptees.

Miranda Gardiner — College

While Miranda's age is not known, I personally believe she's around the same age as Percy. [I have no sound evidence for this, besides the fact that I believe Katie is the same age as Travis (because Tratie, a staple ship) and Travis attends college a year before Percy (as he is there in THO) and as Miranda is most probably Katie's second in command (because Miranda is said to be counselor in TLH instead of Katie, it can be assumed that Katie is a summer camper and therefore Miranda is in charge when she's not around. Like Malcolm for Annabeth or Sherman for Clarisse) I think she's a little bit younger than her, assuming that they were similar ages when they first attended camp.] which would put Miranda as a freshman in college during TSATS as Percy and Annabeth are freshman.

I personally believe Miranda would attend college, probably majoring in something agricultural or environmental.

Sherman Yang — College

Due to the fact that Sherman and Miranda are dating, I have come to the conclusion that Sherman is a similar age to Miranda. Now, whether he's attending the same school as his girlfriend or not, I'm not sure, but I feel in my bones that Sherman would go to college for kinesiology or exercise science.

Ellis Wakefield — High School in Arizona

Ellis was the hardest for no reason, because I hc he's younger than Sherman by a year or two, meaning he's not at college age yet (I do think he wants to attend college though), but rather a senior in high school, and then I thought, Clarisse would absolutely take in one of her siblings if she realizes that they'd be the only Ares kid at camp.

He lives in a small apartment just off campus of the University of Arizona with Clarisse and Chris, who are starting their sophomore year, and attends a local high school near by.

I have no proof for this, but I feel in my heart that he plays baseball and Clarisse and Chris go to every game, and Clarisse almost gets kicked out multiple times for yelling at the umpire. Also, Sherman comes every so often, and that's when things get really crazy and he and Clarisse do, in fact, get kicked out, leaving a really awkward Chris alone in the stands.

Malcolm Pace — SODNYC

Following in his older sister's footsteps, I hc that Malcolm goes to the School of Design Annabeth attends in COTG and WOTTG for his senior year. I personally hc he's a year younger than Annabeth, which would put him at like 17, so he'd live in the dorms there for a year before moving to a college to study architecture (since battle strategy isn't a major, lol)

Harley — Waystation

I have talked about this quite a bit, both on here and on ao3 through my fics, but Harley's adopted by Jo and Emmie and him and Georgina are best friends.

Honestly, Harley's the main reason I've become obsessed with finding out where every minor character is, because if any demigod deserves a fleshed out backstory, it's Harley.

He's eight in THO. Eight! And he's already been at camp for over a year since he's also in TLH. And because TLH mentions no new Hephaestus campers before Leo have arrived in a hot minute because of the curse, we can infer he's been at camp for at minimum, a year and a half by TOA, which means he arrived at, maximum, seven (or seven and a half if he turns 9 right after Apollo leaves camp). And the first series drills it in our head that Annabeth is an anomaly for coming to camp so young, so Harley, not only being a camper, but a year rounder, probably means he doesn't have a mortal family. (I wrote my own version of Harley's backstory, with this hc on ao3, called Wanting to Feel Safe) so yeah! Also, Harley and Leo are very close (see, the entirty of THO) so when Leo finds a family willing to take him in, his little brother isn't too far behind.

Harley's in third grade, is a math wiz, but struggles with spelling. He's also in the same class as Georgie.

Nyssa Barrara — Waystation

You think Leo's leaving Nyssa behind while taking Harley? Think again. I personally believe Nyssa's probably a year or two younger than Leo, which would put her at around her sophomore or junior year of high school, and she probably attends the same school as Leo and Calypso.

Valentina Diaz — BAG

For those who aren't The Kane Chronicles fans (go read them, they're amazing) Drew and Lacy both make an appearance as they attend Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted with Sadie Kane. I like to think that Val joins her sisters at the school studying fashion history (as she shows an interest in it in CHB Confidentials) (Lacy studies fashion design and Drew theater, source: me) and that she stays with Lacy and her father so she can attend school. She still goes to visit camp during holidays along with Lacy and Drew (as we see them at camp during winter break in TLH).

The reason she's not at BAG in TOA with them is because she found out she was a demigod only right after the war and therefore didn't have time to fill out the application to attend.

Connor Stoll — College

Connor and Travis are reunited in college once more! Yay!

I think Connor's studying linguistics, which Travis is studying business administration (though he's a sophomore already)

Cecil Markowitz — hanging with Lou Ellen Blackstone

Source: I made it myself.

As I hc Cecil being around the same age as Will (who's 15/16), he's not old enough to go away to college, or begin adulting like some of the others, so why not stay with his best friend?

They send Will letters in the mail all the time because Will, Cecil, & Lou friend group supremecy.

I also hc that Cecil is the boy that Hermes mentions from Wisconsin that Hermes has Percy promise to bring to camp, though that doesn't really affect where he's ending up.

Alice Miyazawa — her family

I hc that Alice's relationship with her family is strained because of her being more of a "troubled" kid (I also hc she has kleptomania) so that's why she's at camp year round in THO.

So, I think she's going to try with her family again.

Also, I hc that Alice (and Julia) are the two girls from Los Angelos that Hermes mentions to Percy in TLO so her family's in California.

Julia Feingold — with Alice's family

See previous note about Alice and Julia being the two girls from L.A.

Alice wouldn't try with her family again if Julia wasn't there, because they've been attached at the hip since they met at juvie in L.A. as kids, so Julia goes with her.

Damien White — Working

Chiara is stated to be about 18, and her and Damien are probably in a relationship, so it's not too off base to believe that Damien is probably around 17 or 18.

I don't think Damien decides to go to college (maybe later but I doubt it), so he decides to just go and join the job force as he's legally an adult now. What job? I dunno. He's in a union though, I can feel it in my bones.

Also, a little off topic but Apollo saying he didn't know if he wanted to steal Chiara from Damien or Damien from Chiara lives rent free in my head.

Holly Victor— Boarding School

Holly and Laurel are the only two who Chiron had a hand in them not being year rounders, because they're a lot. He's been training for thousands of years, he needs a break too.

So, I hc that Chiron enrolled them in a boarding school so they could quench that competitive spirit of theirs.

I think they're about 13 or 14, so they're either in eighth grade or a freshman in high school.

Laurel Victor — Boarding School

*see above*

But also, I think Holly and Laurel joined every single sports team they could do, and Nike showed up to watch one of their games and got thrown out for trying to fight the ref on a bad call.

Paolo Montes — College in Brazil

While Rick hasn't confirmed this, I am quite positive that Paolo was on summer break when THO takes place, and that's why he's not mentioned in TON and TSATS, because he's back in Brazil.

I hc him around 18, so he's probably in his first year of college.

Chiara Benvenuti — College

Chiara's the only one we get an exact age for—around 18—so it makes sense for her to have left camp.

I think she's studying something to do with Lit, though whether English or Italian, I'm not sure. It's just a gut feeling. And is she somewhere near Damien? Well that's also up in the air.

So, that's everyone at camp in THO and what I think they're doing. I would love it if Rick Riordan confirmed or denied these in TSATS sequel, but I have the habit of convincing myself something is so obvious and will be mentioned in the book, and then it never is, so I'm not hopeful for my own sanity.

[dark-dragon-8]

Me writing a fic planner for my Supernatural fic series/AU and it slowly turning into a "try and keep as many of the characters you like and/or need for the plot to get where you want it to without it being too OOC and/or nonsensical all while still keeping your current ongoing plot relevant and have it make sense" challenge

Because ISTG people are dying 𝘸𝘢𝘺 too often in this show. I had to get creative with Sam's reactions and power limitations just to keep Crowley alive during that one scene Dean tried to kill him when they both first met him.

I had to give Sam a fucking aftershock from Dick Roman exploding so that he won't kill Crowley right then and there.

I know I'll need to find a way to keep Rowena and Charlie alive at some point in the future because they'll be killed off later on in the show and I can't have that.

I'll have to somehow keep Death alive (haha) too because I love him too much to let him go.

The only characters I plan on keeping dead so far are Bobby, Meg, John and everyone else who died in earlier seasons (besides maybe Jessica, but that's just because she's not as close to Sam in this AU)

Ellen and Jo will still be alive, though, since I'm not leaving the boys without a support system. Downside is that the two of them will be experiencing the death of their husband/father (respectively) all over again.

I'm keeping Balthazar alive too because I 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 Castiel to still have some sort of loyal subordinate/connection to Heaven.

At least Dean doesn't kill anyone (important), not yet at least (I just finished season 7) hopefully it stays that way because that man is pretty much the only one I don't have to keep on monitoring 24/7. He's honestly the most chill person in my fic when it comes to killing off plot devices, which is hilarious because I plan on making him a sadistic half demon that's kind of like the Antichrist once he gets the Mark of Cain (which was surprisingly the easiest plot twist I had to write, thanks to how I saw his demon self has been written, I swear he's the only one not killing everyone else around him just because).

I'm currently holding on by a thread of "Sam believing he's impure and therefore doesn't use his powers often" logic while also applying a good amount of "Sam uses his power in every single scenario in which he thinks Dean might be in danger" logic. It's a very stressful road and I swear to Chuck, if I didn't have an ending in mind, everyone would've been dead except for the (good) humans, and Sam would have been the culprit, maybe Castiel too, and Dean would've been surprisingly innocent (I know, it baffles me too).

I just realized, as I was writing this that maybe I just need Crowley to chill, but I can't write that because that would be character assassination of the highest degree (Crowley is a sassy drama queen and I'd rather die than take that away from him)

[spnbangbang]

Natural Born Sinner

Author: GhoulsnHalos

Artist: sidewinder

Primary Ship: Cas/Meg

Other Ships: One-sided Destiel implied

Length: 15,500

Warnings: None

Tags: Canon Divergent; Episode 08:13 Goodbye Stranger; Castiel is in love with Dean & Meg; Hurt/Comfort; Meg lives

Posting Date: November 5, 2024

Summary The Angel Tablet is calling Castiel, asking him to keep it safe. Naomi believes it belongs in Heaven. Crowley wants to get his hands on it. The Winchesters tell him it will be safest with them. What is Castiel to do?

Things get more complicated when Castiel, Dean, and Sam discover which one of Lucifer's old supporters Crowley has kept captive and been torturing—it’s Meg.

As tensions rise and Castiel has to navigate his way through this dilemma, he comes to a startling realization. One that only magnifies his problem by a considerable amount. It's not news to him that he is hopelessly in love with the unavailable Dean Winchester. He's known that almost since the moment he raised the Righteous Man from Hell. No, what strikes Castiel now is that he is in love with someone else, too, and that might have something to do with the Pizza Man.

A fix-it of Episode 08:13 Goodbye Stranger. Or what might have happened had Castiel rescued Meg when he ran off with the Angel Tablet. Excerpt “Be here with me right now in this room, Meg. Don’t hide from me.” Castiel brushes a strand of blonde hair back off Meg’s face.

She doesn’t raise her eyes, so Castiel hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face up.

“There you are.”

The discomfort is evident on Meg’s face, not physical pain. That must still be there because Castiel won’t heal Meg’s human form without her permission, and they’ve not discussed that yet. In fact, they’ve barely said a word to each other since Castiel flew them away from the crypt. What’s causing Meg distress is embarrassment in her demonic form. “I didn’t need a hero.”

“I’m not one. But you didn’t deserve to die—not at Crowley’s hands.”

Meg shifts back on the bed until she’s out of easy reach. “I’m gonna ask again, Clarence. Why are you so sweet on me? The truth. What do you see in a snarky, twisted, creature from the pits, a devotee of the first of the fallen that you left Dean-o, the Righteous Man, in that crypt and took me with you and that thing?”

And there it is. The opening Castiel both wants and dreads. As many others have asked over eons: what is truth? Castiel no longer believes there is one truth. Perhaps he never did and that’s why he’s undergone factory reset after factory reset by Heaven because he’s followed what not the single truth his superior angels told him about it always being God’s will that he do what they commanded but sought what he thought was the truth in a situation and acted in a way that would bring about the best result. Sure, he’s got it wrong several times but at least he tried, or that’s what he keeps telling himself. See that’s why he’s here with Meg not with the Winchesters. He’s doing what he believes is the right thing.

“We aren’t so dissimilar. You said so yourself, you do some good even as a demon and although people seem to think angels are on eth side of good and light, well not only have my brothers and sisters screwed the pooch many times—I’m not a great example. Maybe I have more similarities with Lucifer than I have ever cared to see.”

Meg considers this for a minute, mouth pursed and fingers drumming on the comforter. The she gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I see your point. But you still ducked my question. Come on, tell me.”

There’s a pause during which Castiel wrestles with whether he can tell her of the spark of beauty he sees at the centre of her being.

[multifandomgoofygoober]

Satoru Gojo with a lesbian best friend

Hey there! This is my first ever posted piece of writing and I’m starting off with a random thought that has been in my brain for 3 DAYS-

anyway, call me AGG or AGGIE if you want so.. enjoy :D

warnings: minor hidden inventory arc spoilers, pedophile joke, tiny bit of cursing

TEEN GOJO: •Ok so, Gojo as your best friend.. AND BEING LESBIAN is a total feat-

•You 2 would probably meet by him hitting on you and you’re just over here like; 🧍‍♀️

•Once the fact that you like girls click to his mind, he’ll want to become friends with you cuz teen Gojo was just a lil’ silly guy, yk? :D

•All of his fangirls would most likely get the wrong idea and think you’re his girlfriend or something

•You know that one scene where Gojo changed his lock screen to Inoue Waka?

•Yup. The moment Gojo said “Isn’t she hot?” I BET YOU LOOKED OVER TO SEE WHO IT WAS yes, I watched dub.

•He would most likely tease you with Geto when your crush walked by.

•Gojo would probably ask you for girl advice and you would ask him back.

•Now you guys are going through a chalkboard all about girls and crushes to see all the possible outcomes of asking them out.

•He would probably sit with you in silence but try to lighten the mood by saying “Found any new girls yet?”

•Gojo is definitely going to make several jokes about you liking Shoko, Mei mei, and even Utahime-

•Whenever you talk to a girl you like, he would most likely start playing some romantic music to embarrass you

•The thing he would stoop down low to is while meeting Riko, he would say “Woah there Y/n! We can’t have a pedophile near the kid!”

•*Cue Geto scolding Gojo for saying that IN FRONT of Riko*

ADULT GOJO:

•He would definitely still pull the pedophile joke in front of his students

•Yuji and Nobara FLIP when they find out you liked girls

•ofc Megs knew cuz Gojo begged you to help out with Megumi and Tsumiki years ago

•Once you find out about the Jogo and Gojo fight, you immediately have the urge to ask him “So.. you’re gay now?”

•He’d probably answer with “So.. you’re still single?” or “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

•But let’s say you actually a girlfriend..

•HE IS SPILLING TEA WITH THE 1 YEARS AND THE 2ND YEARS ASAP😭

•Now, you have teenagers begging to meet your girlfriend.

•If you ever break up with her, then expect Gojo to either barge into your house with a TON sweets

•”sigh.. I always knew you were gonna stay single!”

•During the reunion with Geto and shit, he would just drop the bomb on you and say “You still single? Seems like girls just aren’t into you.” JUST TO PISS YOU OFF AND EXPOSE YOU IN FRONT OF THE 2ND YEARS😨 cuz he’s just that kind of bitch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Wow, that was kinda short but it was all I could think of! Hope you enjoyed! My requests are always open! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[cozzzynook]

Hi!! Love all your asks and writing it’s so good and hit all the amazing headcannons I love

May I request something for Megatron finding a long lost adult son, who shares Megatron’s interests, but behaviour wise is a lot more like Rodimus?

Thank you!

Thank you so much 😭

-

Megatron finding a long lost adult son that looks exactly like him in every single way but frame color would shock the pits out of him.

The large mech is literally his size and frame type which isn’t often as one would think.

The mech doesn’t act a thing like him either.

Acts completely like Rodimus and sounds like a mix between the two down to the low and high frequency of his vocals. Not to mention his extraverted personality as he charms a crowd with ease without being an aft in the process.

The mech left him speechless as he followed him quietly for an entire day just seeing how the mech lives and what he does for a living.

The mech is a medic of all things. Something he wanted to be before the war broke out when he was still a miner. The mech acted kind just as Rodimus did but he didn’t have Rodimus smile. No. Rodimus smile was bright and opened ones spark to the sun. This smile was, different, familiar. It was like looking in a mirror.

The mech had a smile like his own.

It was enough to make him have to sit down in his hiding place as he watched on completely speechless with an open intake.

The mechs name was Megorune (meh-goh-rune) a fitting name even if it felt a bit odd. He did a quick search of what the name meant and found it was an old name hidden in the culture files. It was a name mixed of Kaon and Nyon origins.

The shock he felt at seeing the old inscriptions of his home and the home of Rodimus, he just knew.

Looking at the mech was proof enough but seeing the designation inscription and the meaning behind it.

He just knew.

To rise from the mountains pain.

An old story he once told the mech formally named Hot rod who became Rodimus.

His Rodimus.

He’d gotten sparked during the war and left to have their sparkling who stood before him searching the archives still for an old book that he once enjoyed reading as a young spark.

This mech before him, the mech who held all the books and poetry he once read so many many years ago, with the same eager light in his optics that he once held, was his son.

A son Rodimus had and raised alone during the war.

A son he endangered because of his need for power and fall to madness.

A son Rodimus did well raising and did right keeping him far from him.

This was his son.

His boy who shared the cna of himself and the mech his spark could not do without.

He had a son.

He was standing right in front of him looking concerned because a stranger who looked just like him was standing in shock staring at him.

“Megorune? Megorune did you find the book you wanted?”

That voice…

“Megorune?”

Rodimus cane from around a corner, optics focused solely on their son with concern until he followed his gaze and dropped a book at the sight of him.

Megorune looked at his carrier confused and concerned before looking back to Megatron with a dawning realization until he too was shocked enough to drop his many books.

“Is..is this my sire, carrier?”

“Yes,” Rodimus hesitated before admitting. His optics were blinking a lot, something he did when he didn’t want to cry. “Megorune..this is your sire, Megatron.”

Rodimus held a shaky servo out towards Megatron who instinctively came to hold it. He’d missed this, missed him for so long.

“Megs..this is Megorune..your son.”

Megatron held onto Rodimus servo to keep himself grounded and his bitty flexed his servos the exact same way Rodimus would when he was shocked or on edge.

“You could’ve let him have some of my personality traits ya know,” Megatron tried to joke as a tear strayed from his optic, “didn’t have to solely rely on him looking just like me.”

The two of them laughed at the exact same time but his sons laugh sounded all of his sires.

It made Megatron smile.

“I’m…words cannot express how happy I am to meet you…your carrier..did more than I could ever hope to describe in raising you…you look…I am not worthy to be your sire but my spark cannot contain itself with how much joy just seeing you brings me.”

He did the one thing he was known not to.

He let his em field shroud the two and only the two.

They needed to know how he felt in this moment and they needed to know he would do whatever necessary to make sure he was able to stay in their lives.

[untilnextchapter]

Monthly Fanfictions Recommandation: September'23

Here are my best discoveries from the last weeks

🍬 The Authors

@kquil : a gentle author, writing about the Marauders, her writing will bring you peace and the writings are so soft. I love seeing her theme on my computer and seeing her icon on my dash is always a sign that I will read something good.

@luveline : you don't know if you want to read an Aaron Hotchner story or a good Marauder one? You don't need to change to another page, here is the wonderful Jade. She's so talented and you won't be disappointed if you want to check her work.

@thatfanficstuff : when I discovered this blog, I didn't know where I should go first. So many fandoms I love, so many characters, so many stories... So many comfort shows and so, comforting times after work. And sometimes, it's all I need. A gentle person writing some sweet stories.

@luci-in-trenchcoats : I read a few stories a few months ago but, I recently re-discovered this amazing author. With her works, I was back into Supernatural. So many hours spent at reading about our favourite hunters, so many series. And the best of the best: the writing skills are so great and it's so easy to read... Waow, just waow.

@imagineteamfreewill : Fluffy Supernatural fics and a lot of good AUs, all I need after a hard day at work. Meg is an excellent writer and you will spend a good time, I promise. I haven't read everything yet but, I know I have a few a good escapes in perspective. Don't hesitate , you will enjoy your time reading, I hope as much as I'm doing.

@anika-ann : I'm in my Marvel phase, I'm weak, I know. And, I think I found someone that could quench my thirst with so many good stories and good writing skills. I could spend hours reading about Steve Rogers. And I know I've found an unique writer because I loved a crossover story. I usually hate that. But here I am, reading a Criminal Minds / Avengers story and loving it. Thank you for that.

@crazyunsexycool : Another "Val", it can only be someone nice, right? But really, a sweetheart, someone with so much imagination, and a way to write about children... And I know what I'm talking about, I'm working in a nursery. It's so great to read something accurate when it's a subject you know. And except for the children, she's always here to answer your questions, being nice and taking time for her followers. I hadn't asked to be add into a taglist for a story for a long time. You won't be disappointed if you want to make a stop here.

🍭 The Stories

* = Smut (Minors DNI) || 🦋 = Series || Beware of the TW please

Not so secret admirer || @kquil (Remus Lupin x Reader, you can't hide your adoration for remus lupin and often end up staring at him, good thing he thinks you're really cute)

A star between hands 🦋 || @luveline (James Potter x Reader, finding out you’re princess isn’t half as intimidating as your new bodyguard, James. mutual pining, fluff)

if things go bad || @/luveline (Aaron Hotchner x Reader, Hotch rushes to get to you when you call him during a home invasion. angst, hurt/comfort)

True Mate 🦋 || @thatfanficstuff (Peter Hale x Reader)

Remember me || @/thatfanficstuff (Thranduil x Reader)

I Know Your Brother || @luci-in-trenchcoats (Sam Winchester x Reader, The reader is pulled out of Hell accidentally by Sam Winchester who’s wondering where his brother is…)

A Safe Mistake 🦋 || @/luci-in-trenchcoats (Nanny!Dean x Single Parent!reader, Dean’s in need of some extra cash to help Sam pay for his tuition and gets a job working as a nanny for the reader’s young son. As Dean becomes ingrained in the reader’s life though, he soon becomes more than just the nanny to them both…)

Beauty and the Beast 🦋 || @imagineteamfreewill (Dean Winchester x Reader AU, Living in a village is nice, and even though you’d always longed for adventure, you weren’t expecting to go on an adventure of your own anytime soon. But as soon as you take your father’s place as the prisoner of a Beast who lives in an enchanted castle, you’re surprised that adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—and neither are monsters)

Daisy || @/imagineteamfreewill (Sam Winchester x Deaf!Daughter!Reader, Sam breaks some bad news to his daughter, who’s deaf, and watches her start to grow up without her mother)

Love on the Brain 🦋 || @anika-ann (Steve Rogers x Reader / Crossover MCU-Criminal Minds, You found menacing pictures of you friend, colleague and neighbour Steve in your mailbox.   Someone might play it off as a bad joke, but you were an agent for the Avengers Initiative and a former FBI agent. You’ve seen cases like this and you were taking no chances. Not with Steve of all people. But you were going to need help; enter the BAU)

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold 🦋 || @/anika-ann (Steve Rogers x Reader, Matt Murdock x Reader, You officially joined the Avengers only two months ago and you’re about to take off to yet another mission. Cap would like to have some extra help on this one – but the Avengers have approached the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen before and he made it pretty clear how he felt about it. Of course, this time it’s you who got stuck with trying to convince him once again. “I still don’t understand why it’s not you coming, oh Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” “I do have a plan. I have you.”)

Heart’s Munition 🦋 || @crazyunsexycool (Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!Reader. I can't copy and paste all the resume but I swear, you'll love it. A bit of surprise but it's worth the world)

My little love * 🦋 || @/crazyunsexycool (Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader. Really long resume but in short, Bucky, Reader, children, Papa and Mama bears, great scenario, you'll love it I promise!)

That's all, for now.

Don't hesitate to share the stories you liked and tell the writers you enjoy their works, it always means a lot to them ❤️

Have a good reading,

Val 🌸