#what would be the breaking point for Meg to leave

[gigglemugger]

All of these are notes about Meg's character to see if I can make the thing.

[berryblosom]

ATTENTION * ˚ ✦ Reader x jealous!Satoru

Summary: Megumi is coming down with a cold and Satoru hates the attention you’re giving him.

A-note: I’m in such a slump lately, so here’s one of the many in my drafts :(

“Here sweet pea, take this and drink it all.” You carefully hand Megumi the cup of tea you brewed up for him. The poor thing came down with a nasty cold and can barely keep his eyes open, so you’re doing everything you can to make him feel better. Some would think of this as a loving gesture and would give praise but for your boyfriend it’s the last thing he would do.

You’ve noticed ever since Megumi came back from school with a cough that Satoru has been giving the two of you the stink eye, he lurks behind doors and stands in corners of the room scowling at Megumi. Every where you turn he’s there giving you strange looks and then walking away without a word when you catch him. You knew he was werid when you first met him but maybe he’s finally loosing his mind.

“Satoru would you stop that.” You knew he was behind you so you didn’t bother turning around but you could basically feel the daggers he was shooting into your back.

“I’m not doing anything- I mean I’m not talking to you.” He grumbles with his arms crossed.

“Oh no, whos going to talk my ear off now?” You dramatically turned and feigned an distraught look. Megumi giggles from the couch which earns him a glare from your boyfriend.

“This is bullying you know!” With one last angry look at the two of you Satoru storms off to your room. Megumi breaks out in a fit of laughter but you smile knowing that a laugh from you would just set Satoru off even more.

“I’ll go check on him.” You leave the kitchen and follow Satoru into your bedroom. You found him faced down on the bed, his face buried in his pillow.

climbing onto the bed you lay down next to him. “Do you wanna tell me what that was?” He turns his head slightly so you could see his blue eyes but he said nothing.

“You know if I didn’t know better I’d say your jealous of little Megs out there.” You raise your eyebrows in question, you knew you were right but wanted Satoru to admit it himself.

“I’m not jealous of that shrimp.” He mumbles and you stifle a laugh.

“Satoru look at me please.” It takes him a couple seconds but he finally turns his head to look at you fully. His infamous “Im mad at you” pout was as clear as day on his lip but you just found it adorable.

“I am not jealous, he’s a little shit that need to give me back my girl.” You laugh and Satoru perks up at this, if there’s anything that could make him feel better is knowing he made you laugh.

“He’s sick Toru and he’s seven. He needs someone to take care of him.” Satoru sits up and pulls you up with him.

“I’m sick too (a lie) but you haven’t even given me so much as a kiss for five whole days.” He waved his slender hand in you face, as if that made is point more believable.

Megumi has only been sick for one day but your boyfriend had a flare for the dramatic. Satoru clearly wasn’t going to let this go until you did something about so without warning you climb into his lap and wrap you arms around him.

“My poor baby, what can I do to make you feel better hmm?” Satoru reacts to your touch instantly, his eyes follow your every word and it was vey clear what he wanted.

You cup his face and lean slightly forward, your lips linger infront of his teasing him slightly until you hear a quiet whine escape him.

You kiss him softly with your fingertips running through his hair but Satoru needed more. He grabs your legs wrapping them around his torso, you were much closer now and he could kiss how he wanted to.

“Mhm Megumi is in the living room, slow down.” Satoru doesn’t listen, continuing to caress your skin and press sloppy kisses on your neck. He captures your lips again this time managing to push his tongue past your mouth. Satoru has always been a good kisser especially when he hasn’t kissed you for a long time. He finally lets you go to catch your breath. You watch him rest his head on your chest and nuzzles into you.

“I’m your one and only right.” Blue eyes gaze up at you with hope swimming in them. You loved Satoru more than anything and found it amusing he thought your love for him was being threatened by a sickly seven year old. But to ease his mind you’d tell him over and over if you have to.

“You’re my one and only, my sweet baby that I love very much.” His signature giddy smile returns to his face so you thought this was the best time to check up on Megumi.

Satoru notices your attempt to leave and locks you with his arms. “Where are you going?”

“To give Megs his soup, there’s still a sick child in the house remember.” He looks hesitant to let you go but knew he really had no choice.

“You’ll come back to me right?” You smile and peck his forehead

“Of course.”

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[wellhalesbells]

Currently convincing my bestie to watch this with me again tonight (now that I can enjoy it more since I don't have to worry about Jiuming's death) and going to let her either talk me into or out of writing fanfic of them. (I keep waffling and she is my real fandom brain anyway, lol.)

Okay while I have absolutely no desire to write Jiuming/Jonas fanfic from Meg 2, I do want to read roughly 80- 100 fanfics about them and AO3 is somehow hitting me with a very disappointing 0.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Hi can I get a birthday cake with strawberries and chocolate chips with Toji please

Sundae Tropes: Remember Me

A/N: Fic 3 of this event! I haven't really written for Toji so I hope this doesn't sound out of character. ANGST. As usual, MDNI.

Raven, thank you for your patience as I wrote this.

Sundae: Birthday Cake With Strawberries And Chocolate Chips With Toji = Amnesia/Mistaken Identity + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Lotus Position

Follow along using #sundaetropes, #300followersevent and #vee writes.

Event masterlist | Vee's Masterlists

Sunlight filters through the small apartment as you quickly prepare breakfast in the small, cramped kitchen. Megumi swings his legs as he sits on the countertop, his large eyes watching your movements as you bustle about getting breakfast ready. He’s already in his little school uniform, looking so contained and serious that you sometimes wonder how he was only 8 years old. Megumi accepts a bowl of oatmeal from you but you can see his expression is worried.

“What’re you thinking about Megs?” 

“Why do you do it?” he asks quietly.

Your smile falters at the question but you pretend to be nonchalant. You knew exactly what he was asking about. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep taking care of him?” You gently cup Megumi’s cheek reassuringly. 

“Because that’s what love is Megs.”

Those keen dark eyes fixate on you and you feel like you’re looking into the depths of his young soul. You try to lighten the mood. “Ah look at me saying such romantic things! You’ll understand someday. But you can’t be late for school so eat your breakfast now!”

Thankfully Megumi doesn’t ask any more questions and finishes his oatmeal before thanking you and heading off for school. Once he’s out of the house, you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Temporarily of course, but the relief was welcomed. Footsteps come from down the hall and you swallow. Was today going to be the day…? Strong arms wrap around your waist and your heart swells in his presence. He was here, he was alive-

“Mamaguro. Why didn’t you wake me up? I wanted to send Megumi off to school.” The warmth in your heart was replaced with dread. But you arrange your features into a smile and turn in his arms. “You slept pretty late last night. I figured you could use the rest.”

“Hmm.” Toji grunts and then looks around the kitchen. “You’ve been busy. Making breakfast for me.”

“For everyone. Megumi needs to eat too.”

“You’re such a good mother.” You feel your throat tightening and suddenly his embrace feels like a noose. You wriggle free, to Toji’s dismay. 

“Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom.” You lie swiftly and without wasting a second run and lock the door. In the quiet, you let your tears run free. It was the cruelest of circumstances. You knew deep down none of it was Toji’s fault but there was so much resentment in you for the man you love. It wasn’t his fault that he had accepted that job so many months ago. It wasn’t his fault that the target he was pursuing was a bigger challenge than anything he had ever seen. Money had always been tight in the household and for him, this was a way to make ends meet. For him to feel like a provider.

Who could have predicted that he had bitten off more than he could chew? That the target he had been pursuing would overpower him, break his body like a rag doll, and leave him with what the doctors had called a “chronic, traumatic, brain injury”? The first immediate concern was that he would never walk again. But thankfully that hadn’t been the case. Toji could walk, talk, feed himself, and was generally self-sufficient. Now if only his memory would come back the same way!

You try to pull yourself together, reminding yourself that Toji needs you now more than ever, and so does Megumi. Amnesia was the enemy here, not your boyfriend. But it killed you inside each time he called you by Megumi’s mother’s name. It had been months since you had heard your name fall from his lips to the point where you were starting to feel like a ghost. You weren’t Megumi’s mother but you had been the one raising him. He was as good as your son. But to be called by a dead woman’s name, a woman you had never met, had taken a toll on your being.

The first time it happened, Megumi had blinked in confusion. “Papa, that’s not Mama,” the little boy had tried to correct him. But Toji had shook his head.

“Of course it is! Look! Don’t you recognize Mama when you see her?” Megumi had stared in confusion, and you had soothed him, telling him it was temporary, that once his dad rested some more he’d remember. It had only worsened. Megumi could see the hurt in your eyes and he didn’t bother correcting his father anymore. It seemed pointless, and only seemed to disorient Toji even more, sometimes taking his frustration out on Megumi, asking him why he was saying you weren’t his mother.

Megumi was your constant companion now. He clung to you when he came back from school, and truth be told, you needed him too. The only person who remembered you now was him. His mama, yet not his mama, who had become the only constant thing in his now upended life. Megumi called you often by your name as though he worried you would disappear from his life if he didn’t. Like using your name was his way of reassuring you that you weren’t forgotten, that he would always remember you no matter what.

You cover your face with your eyes, wondering how things had gotten this way. Because in the end, it didn’t matter that money was short or that Toji couldn’t hold down a steady job. All that mattered now was that you couldn’t leave, and you were faced with the harsh reality that Toji’s memory may never fully come back. Wiping your eyes, you steel your features into a mask of composed calm and walk back into the living room. 

Toji was appreciatively eating the plate of breakfast you had made for him. As you approach he pats the space next to him on the couch beckoning you to sit. You oblige, and as soon as you do, Toji pulls you against him. To him, he’s in his own world, a world where his wife wasn’t dead, and Megumi had his mother, the perfect unit of familial bliss. “I love you, you know?” Toji murmurs against your hair and you swallow, feeling a painful lump form in your chest. 

“I love you too.” What else could you say? Because you do. You love him so much that you had willingly stayed, even as he called you by another woman’s name. You stayed because you hoped someday he would remember you again.

Exhaustion overcomes you, and you fall asleep on his shoulder, feeling his broad hand stroke your hair, listening to his heartbeat pound in his chest. He was alive after everything, and maybe that was the true miracle here; that he hadn’t died.

You don’t know how long you were asleep, but you wake up groggily to the sound of your own name being called. Was Megumi already home? That gruff voice certainly didn’t sound like him. As realization fills your being, you’re jolted awake, and you follow the voice. 

It couldn't be Toji? It can't be. It didn't feel real. Perhaps it was a dream, where Toji’s deep voice was resounding in some chamber of your brain. You get to the bathroom and hear it again, unmistakably, your name, in Toji’s voice. You crack the door open. 

There he stood, tall, proud, muscled, and scarred, his hair dripping, water droplets covering his body. And completely naked. Your eyes widened. Beyond helping care for Toji during the initial recovery you hadn't seen him bared in front of you frequently. Sexual intimacy was out of the question because you didn't think you could bear it if he moaned his late wife's name in your ear. 

“Y/n didn't you hear me?” Toji asks, not stepping out of the shower. You blink. Resisting the urge to pinch yourself, you shake your head, looking at your boyfriend in wonder. 

“What did you call me?” You look at him with wide eyes, feeling the warning signs of tears pricking the backs of your eyes. 

“Y/n?” Toji looks miffed as he glances at you. “That's your name right?”

Time seems to freeze and you nod. Swallowing the lump in your throat you ask, “Why did you call me?”

“I forgot to bring a towel. Get one for me will ya?” You hasten to bring the towel, watching him dry off his skin, your mind buzzing with questions. Toji’s behavior seemed to suggest he didn’t recall that earlier he was calling you Mamaguro. He wraps the towel around his waist, then looks at you appraisingly.

What’re you getting all teary for?” You sniff and shake your head, a watery smile blooming onto your face. 

“Nothing. Just, glad you’re back.”

“Back? I was here all this time wasn’t I?”

You laugh for the first time in months. The relief of it spreads through your chest, filling your extremities with warmth. “Yes, you were. I meant when you went to shower.”

“You’re a weird woman.” Toji steps out of the shower to brush away a tear. “But that’s ok. I love you anyway.”

You catch a whiff of the clean scent of soap and lean back to look at him. He cocks his head. “You keep looking at me like I’ll disappear.”

Your lips move, but no sound comes out. You find yourself gazing into his eyes, seeing the recognition in their depths, the tenderness that he’d held for you. Your body reacts on its own accord and you tiptoe to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Toji is caught off guard by this but a rumble echoes through his chest as his corded arms come around you, pulling you tightly against him. You savor the taste of him, his tongue, his lips. You hadn’t been this close to him for what felt like forever. His breath quickens and his fingers tighten around you, digging into your soft skin. 

“Someone seems a little needy for my attention today,” Toji murmurs against your mouth before his tongue delves into its depths. You feel yourself being scooped up into his arms and a giddy rush shoots down your spine. Your legs automatically wrap around him, enjoying the feeling of his chest pressed against yours.

Toji lays you down softly on the bed, a large hand creeping up under your T-shirt to squeeze your breast, his mouth possessively covering yours. Your feet slip under the edges of his towel, flirting with the skin just under the swell of his ass. As he starts pulling off your clothes, you feel flushed, a heady skitter of heat and tingles running under your skin. He feasts on your creamy skin, his eyes hazing over as he brings a hardened nipple into his mouth. The small sucks feel like shooting stars under your skin, bringing heat and energy with them as they fly. Your nails scratch down his back and a moan escapes your lips, eyes closing in ecstasy as you arch your back to push your crotch against the bulge hiding behind his thin towel. Toji growls, nipping your bud, then laving his tongue over it to cool the sting.

Your hands grow bold and you reach down to undo the knot of the towel, letting it fall away and grasp his engorged cock in your hand, stroking the heated velvet and sighing your pleasure as he kisses his way down your body, licking the underside of your breasts, the tip of his tongue flirting with the dip of your navel. “You taste delicious baby,” he murmurs, pressing kisses on your belly. Your hand continues to pump his length and Toji halts, eyes squeezing shut as you run your thumb over his sensitive tip, gathering the milky drops and using them to slicken his hard length. Toji pants, each swipe of your closed palm bringing forth ripples of desire through his body, and with a huge effort, puts his hand over yours, stilling your movement.

Looking at his expression questioningly, you release him, then let out a giggle of surprise as Toji pulls you on his lap, holding your body tenderly against his as his thumb gathers moisture from your fluttering core and swipes it upward onto your swollen clit. A needy moan escapes your throat and your fingers anchor into his shoulders, hips rocking with his movements to get more delicious friction. You feel alive, the blood running through your veins singing. You had never thought this was something you would experience again, yet here he was, whispering your name along with reassurances as he teased the little button that was driving you to the brink. 

“Let go for me, baby. I have you. You’re mine. Go ahead…” His movements remain consistent but quicken and you choke out a broken cry as your body explodes with orgasmic delight, your core and clit fluttering in tandem from the sensations. “That’s my girl. My sweet girl…”

Toji holds your hips and helps you align your dripping pussy over his cock, then slowly, you sink down, facing him, impaled on his lap as your feet curl up behind him. The position didn’t allow for any kind of fast movement, and the both of you gently grind against each other. The romance of the moment was palpable, your breath mingling together, Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unmistakably aware of who he was with. He groans your name several times as you ride, his hands bruisingly holding onto you as he places wet kisses on your neck, capturing your lips as the tender motions steadily push him towards a promising climax. 

You adjust your body slightly, feeling his cushiony tip brush against your cervix, hitting your gspot on its way back down. After everything…this was right. This is how it should be. “Toji…I love you,” you whisper to him and the words are met with an enchanted smile. 

“I love you too y/n…” He manages to say before his body pushes to an edge. You feel the contractions of his length inside you and continue to move your hips and bring him to a satisfying climax. His breath tears from his throat and he moans in your ear as he empties himself into you, thick ropes of seed painting your walls white. 

When you awake a few hours later, you realize Megumi will be home soon. You quickly tidy up, putting on fresh clothes. The doorbell rings and Toji stirs, blinking groggily against the light. “Quick, put your clothes on.” You toss him his pants and T-shirt, then close the door on your way. Your smile is radiant as you greet Megumi, pulling him inside and hugging him tightly.

“You’re crushing me,” Megumi gasps and you hastily let go. Megumi immediately spots the difference in your demeanor.

“You’re happy.”

“I am. Oh Megumi you have no idea.” You close the door and Toji makes an entrance, his smile gentle as he pats his son on the head. 

“Megumi…go change and let’s finish your homework. Mamaguro needs to prepare dinner.”

You’re thankful Megumi is already walking away to his room because you felt all the air in your lungs vanish, your heart splintering into two all over again. As the tears begin to well in your eyes, Toji walks over to you in concern.

“Are you sure you’re ok Mamaguro? You’ve been teary all day.”

You nod your head, choking back your sobs as you quickly rush to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner. 

dividers by @/ cafekitsune

@that-goth-bisexual @buttercupbitches @jadedjane @hunnie-lily

@soft--cherry @estarlias

@daswanj @connorsui @kentosgirlie @dreaming-about-seireitei @byul9158 @whatshernameis @galatict3a

@mangiswig @bleachbrainrotbro @illusionaryennui @harlekin6

@pernesophe @26xidk @an-ever-angry-bi @connorsui @muzansfangs

[irisintheafterglow]

hiii Iris! as the biggest fan of ur rockstar!Gojo drabbles....... is there any room for a humble request between Gojo and reader attending an event where he gets recognized with an award and he thanks her in his speech? something along those lines but ultimately whatever u want... i just want ALL THE TEETH ROTTING FLUFF AND A FLUSTERED READER THANK U <3

OOOOOHHHH this is GOOOOODD (thank you anon for your request and sorry it took so long to get to lol hope you like it <3)

green light.

the cameras were on him again for what felt like the twentieth time. you bump your shoulder against him before he can do it to you and he clicks his tongue, defeated again.

"this isn't fair," he whispers into your ear. "i think you have a better angle than me." you bite your tongue to stifle a laugh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

"or, you just aren't fast enough," you tease and he rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers into yours and resting it on his thigh. "i like this little game of punch-buggy."

"be grateful it's just us two today. i've almost been kicked out when it's me, shoko, and suguru." another green light, another shoulder bump. he meets you halfway, though, and you find yourself pushing against him as he insists on winning. he pushes you back, eventually, but drapes an arm around the back of your chair to keep you from going too far. "i cannot wait to leave," he murmurs.

"you're getting an award tonight, satoru," you point out and he shrugs a lean shoulder. "they'd be idiots not to give it to you." he's still not convinced, boredom apparent on his features. "'breakout star of the year?' who else would it go to?"

"megs and yuuji have been doing pretty well for themselves," satoru recalls and you have to agree, but you both know no one in the world comes close to your boyfriend's level of fame. green light, right before a commercial break. he's faster than you this time; but, instead of bumping you, he presses his lips to the side of your head, leaving you warm from the sudden show of affection. "god, you're so fucking pretty. i'm still wondering how i got you to come to this with me."

"i figured we've been to the boardwalk and the beachwood enough that it's about time i show up with you at an awards show." the cameras were a shock the first few times he'd taken you out to lunch, but now you'd become so acclimated to their presence that you could catch when the green light blinked on.

"still, you're not too overwhelmed by everything? we can still disappear after the ceremony ends and ditch the afterparty," he reminds you and you brush your thumb over the skin of his cheek. he was yours, body and soul. "i'm only ever looking at you and following your cue."

"it's up to whatever you wanna do, satoru. i'm with you wherever you go."

"you're too good to me."

"yeah, and you're stuck with me, so get used to it," you smirk and he chuckles. a few green lights linger at tables near you, but for now, it's just you two. the band plays the ceremony fanfare and various artists return to their seats, anxious to know if their predictions of who wins the most sought-after award of the night are correct.

tonight, we recognize an artist whose exponential growth and unique artistry have captivated the world. his singles, "hollow purple," "limitless," and "six eyes," have remained in the billboard top ten for a whopping 18 weeks. give it up for 'breakout star of the year' gojo satoru!

you watch dozens of green lights flicker to life across the room, all pointed at you and satoru. his face breaks into his signature dazzling smile as you both stand, embracing for only a moment. "just like we practiced," he murmurs. "don't be scared if they stay on you for the entire time." before you can respond, he disappears into the crowd of standing admirers, shaking hands and expressing his sincerest gratitude.

just like you'd practiced.

the green lights surrounding you are blinding. green, green, green, green, green. everywhere.

and yet, satoru's voice cuts through the cacophony.

"wow, i-uh, i don't really know what to say." it's exactly what he means to say. "i'm honored to receive this and i wanna thank all the people who voted to give this to me." he hated most of the board that voted for him, always trying to make him into their puppet. they wouldn't have even given him the award if the public weren't absolutely obsessed with him; somehow, that made the victory a little sweeter. "i wanna thank my team, my managers, and my best friends, shoko and suguru. i hope you guys aren't getting too wasted right now," he laughs and the crowd mirrors him, following his lead like moths to a flame. he glances down at the award in his hand again, thinking, and then finds your eyes from across the ballroom. "and lastly, i wanna thank the one i love more than any award or honor. you are what i do this for, and i am yours until the end of everything. thank you."

green lights catch your stunned expression as satoru gives a final bow and exits the stage, returning to your side in record time. your hands are shaking when he takes them in his; your face is burning when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"i'm gonna marry you," he whispers so that only you can hear it. no thoughts run through your mind, just satoru, satoru, satoru, satoru.

and the green lights become dimmer.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride! Can you write more of that god!Zagreus fic?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Thanatos guides Megara to the place known as the Prince’s Court, stepping into the throne room to see his dark head and fiery laurels bent over a long table. Clustered around him are those whom he used to rest amongst battling his way through the underworld – not just Sisyphus, but the nymph Eurydice and the warrior Patroclus.

Barely more than acquaintances, really, and yet Zagreus has folded them into his confidence, a confidence extended neither to him nor Megara. Again.

He does not tell them when he intends to escape the underworld nor does he tell them when he cracks it open and burrows into a place of his own making. What did those three do that he hadn’t?

Zagreus looks over, smiles, then sees Meg and frowns. Instead of addressing her, he turns to Patroclus and says, “We might as well just tell Achilles outright at this point. If we’re not quick about it he’ll find out from someone else, which is probably best to be avoided.”

“I think it would serve him right, actually,” Patroclus answers, a small smile curling around the edges of his mouth.

Megara lets out a shriek, angry enough to earn her status as a Fury on that alone, and launches herself at Zagreus whips first.

Everyone else scatters, even Patroclus backing up with his hands raised even though he’s a good enough warrior to at least slow Megara down. Thanatos thinks uncharitable thoughts about loyalty to their god and king even though the truth of it is that they’re smart enough to keep from being dragged into the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

Zagreus lets the whips hit him and yet for once he does not bleed.

No rich mortal blood falls from his skin, instead the whips slamming into him and then sliding off.

“Meg, don’t be mad,” he says soothingly. “I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position-”

“You’re not bleeding,” she says blankly, her rage banked by confusion.

He glances down on his arms. “Oh, oops. Do you want me to? I can, but also we could talk this out.”

“Or move the battle to somewhere that won’t harm my architecture,” Sisyphus pipes up. Eurydice elbows him, looking horrified, while Patroclus just remains amused.

Zagreus inclines his head in their direction. “Or that.”

“Don’t give me a reason to start with you,” Megara hisses at Sisyphus. “Zagreus, what the fuck is happening? What’s with you?” She storms forward to grab his arm, yanking it around, searching his skin for some break. “You’ve always bled. Even when we were children.”

He softens, offering his wrist to her mouth and her very sharp teeth.

Megara grips it, dragging it forward and biting into him as if he’s the first bite of a feast and she’s starving.

Zagreus winces, but leaves his wrist in her mouth. Thanatos feels warm and uncomfortable all over, something intimate there that he always avoids seeing between them. She releases him and her teeth are red with his blood and blood falls down his arm in rivulets. “I’m still me. I still bleed. I just have a little bit more control over it these days. I’m the god of blood. I’m made to bleed.”

[nothingenoughao3]

Why Herbert West Was Never Hypnotized (short answer: he's a lying manipulative little shit who lies)

Since @green-stuff correctly asked why nobody talks about the crying scene from the Integral Cut. A version of the scene can be found here on YouTube:

It's me, I'm no one and I will talk about this forever. (See here where I went on a rant about hypnotism and The Human Will in Re-Animator.)

The popular interpretation I've seen is that Herbert is, indeed, hypnotized. He cries because Hill mentioned his dead mentor and he's vulnerable due to his hypnotic state. Then he shakes off the hypnotism because Hill talks about making Cain "disappear", and that's something Herbert would never do. Which, cool and good and shippable, I'm fine with that.

But like for real tho let's break this down a little more.

Earlier in the Integral Cut, Hill mesmerizes Dean Halsey. Other than the reanimates, this is the only successful hypnotism Hill pulls off in the entire story. Briefly, let's contrast this with the above scene.

Halsey's drinking and just had a full meal. The lighting has to be just right. He's relaxed and he trusts Hill.

Despite this, Halsey has to be slowly, carefully talked into accepting Hill's suggestions: they don't work at first! Hill tries going after Dan first, and when Halsey rejects the idea that Dan's dangerous, Hill links Dan with Herbert... and that works.

Hill plants a few trigger words/phrases, all of which Dan detonates by accident when he tries to talk to Halsey later. Mentioning West in that scene brings back "And Cain is with [West] all the time", and thereby, "Cain is dangerous". Mentioning Meg brings back Hill's implanted suggestion that Dan's involving Meg with dangerous activities. Halsey repeats certain phrases/words Hill planted, but presents them as though he's just thought of them--not as though he's deliberately remembering them.

Everything Carl plants must comply with Halsey's normal judgments and personality--his protectiveness over his daughter is baseline, so it matters more than anything else.

And let us consider the above scene's beats with a similar bullet-point list.

Herbert is tired and angry at the interruption. It's been a long time since he got a shot of reagent. He's filling in time while waiting for Dan, and he's almost certainly anxious. And, also, most relevant, he does not trust Carl Hill.

Herbert appears to give in immediately, with all of Hill's suggestions working instantaneously. No lulling, no manipulation. Huh. Weird.

Hill tries to plant trigger words/phrases, but they don't work. Herbert obviously does not think of himself as Hill's assistant after this. He also recalls Hill saying that Dan must disappear--but as a memory, not as something he just thought of out of nowhere.

Everything Hill tries to plant in Herbert is contrary to literally everything we know about West. Herbert doesn't care about being famous; that's bait he gave Dan to lure him in as an assistant, and note he said "You'll be famous", not "We'll be famous". Killing Dan, obviously, would be contrary to Herbert's baseline personality, and so would handing over his discovery with no opposition, and so would being Carl Hill's assistant, and...

In fact, Herbert's scene here has stronger corollaries with Meg's multiple scenes where Hill tries to mesmerize her.

She's often tired, distracted, or desperate to leave. The setting is never 'right' and Carl can't seem to set the mood correctly. Even before she knows what a creep Hill is, part of her does not trust him--and she seems to trust him less the more he attempts to control/dominate/hypnotize her.

Meg reacts to his hypnotic attempts by appearing as dazed and confused as her father, at first... only to (sometimes visibly) shake it off and react strongly against whatever he was talking about. The one time Hill gets Meg to do what he wants and authorize the lobotomy, he just... convinced her it was the right choice! When he tried to use his Will on her to plant suggestions, he fucked it all up.

None of the attempted trigger words/phrases take. Meg never says "Dr. Hill is someone I can trust", or any of the other crap he tries to feed her.

And in part, it's because he's trying to override her personality by telling her to say/do/believe things she doesn't/isn't.

If we can agree that Meg is not successfully hypnotized by Hill in the film, and that her father is, then there's only one conclusion:

Herbert is not hypnotized when he's crying.

Then what the hell is Herbert doing?

There are certain stereotypical outward "symptoms" that people who are in hypnotic trances present with. Hill does not appear to have a mystical ability to detect if anybody's been properly hypnotized by him. (Because, as I argued before, The Human Will is not necessarily a mystical force in this universe, but a known physiological phenomenon which can be quantified, like any other biological byproduct.) He'd have to use the same kinds of indicators as any other hypnotist to determine his success.

The most obvious signs of successful hypnosis are glazed eyes/a dazed expression, a slowness of speech, and delayed responsiveness to stimuli. This makes sense, given what we saw with both Halseys.

Slightly less known as a sign is lacrimation, or the abnormal production of tears. Abnormal, in this case, because there is no physical or emotional cause for crying. Herbert shedding some fake tears would absolutely convince Hill that his hypnosis had worked, along with Hill's vain belief that he had more willpower than Herbert Goddamned West.

"But Nothing!" I hear you cry, "you don't have any proof that he's pretending to cry! There'd be no way to verify that!"

Ah, but there is. If you want to fake cry, and you don't want to draw on your emotions, the best way to do that is to not blink. Your eyes will begin to water as a protective measure.

If you watch the scene carefully, you'll note that Herbert doesn't blink when the camera's focused on him. The moment after he gives Hill his notes, you can see that he's actively trying not to blink and allowing the tears to continue to build up, before they finally, conveniently spill just as Hill compliments his work and mentions Gruber.

The question then becomes why Herbert would bullshit such a thing. But I think that's the easiest thing to argue of all.

He knew he couldn't win a fair fight with Hill. He also couldn't escape him without leaving his lab, notes and reagent behind for Hill to ransack. He read about hypnotism--that's certainly something that would have been taught to med students, if only as part of relatively-recent medical history--and he could have picked up on the signs of mesmerism from there. Herbert might suspect that Hill did this to Halsey earlier in the film, as when he said that "Hill has gotten to him".

When told "You will do what I tell you to do", West picks up that Carl's trying to mesmerize him... so he goes along with it. And he gives such a masterful performance that Hill is convinced to turn his back on Herbert, and remain distracted for a fatal thirty seconds.

Again, I grant that the popular interpretation of this scene is popular for a reason... but I'm more inclined to think we're seeing Herbert being a lying little shit. And I love that for him.

[daddy-deathslinger]

Hey, I'm a big sucker for DBD imagines and posts and you're one of the top three I like.

Is it ok if I can have some imagines of Caleb, Kazan, and Trickster reacting to an s/o who LOUDLY curses in their native tongue (Like Caleb = Irish S/O, Kazan = Japenese S/O) and they let it out during a trial with them, shocking even the crows.

I rage around failing gens and evading, and I always cause a scene when I do 😅. You don't have to find any accurate swear words or curses, I like to see the build up to their reactions for it XD!

Hi there! I hope ya like what I came up with, I wanted to try and google some swears in these languages so if something's incorrect, blame google! xD

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn reacting to his S/O cursing in Irish:

It’s a trial like any other for you. Repair generators, flee from the killer, yadda yadda.

The killer in this trial is Caleb, so you know he’s gonna go a bit easier on you, which is good because you feel distracted this trial.

It might be the map, you hate the creepy school of Silent Hill. Nothing ever seems to go right when you’re sent to this map.

To prove your point, you suddenly get very startled while sneaking up to a generator.

BANG! It’s a corpse, it just falls right out of a locker! Right in front of you, as you’re sneaking by!

You can’t help it, the words just come out.

“Nách mór an diabhal thú! Fucking manky piece of-”

“Y/N?”

The next second, you’re startled again, this time by none other than Caleb, sneaking up behind you.

“Caleb! What in the goddamn-”

Your curses are cut short when you see the confused look on Caleb’s face. 

He just stares at you, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s alright.

Then, he suddenly burst out into laughter.

He laughs and laughs, folding himself double where he stands, tears forming in his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. This thing scared me, alright?” you hiss, but Caleb only continues laughing as he leaves the room.

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka reacting to his S/O cursing in Japanese:

You and Meg find each other in a trial. You decide to sneak up to a generator together, since you make a notoriously good engineer team.

The wet bamboo rustles beside you as you sit down at your silent generator, and as Meg keeps watch at first, you start working the cables.

This is easy. You know your way around generators, you’ve repaired hundreds of them by now.

Even though Kazan is the killer in this trial, you’re not nervous. He goes easy on you, and you’re not worried about Meg and her speedy legs.

Meg is still keeping watch just in case Kazan shows up, and you’re almost halfway on the generator. This is too easy, why-

BOOM!

A part of the generator explodes right in your face, and the next second all hell breaks loose.

“Kuso kurae! Motherfucker! This stupid piece of shit generator!”

You go on and on about where the generator can get lost and you don’t even notice Meg staring at you like she could kill you.

You do notice the heavy footsteps approaching, however. You go silent, just now noticing the echo from your angered voice.

Kazan looks at you, just staring from behind his mask.

Then, he grabs his sword and slowly saunters along, as if nothing had happened. You hear him mutter something to himself, then he’s gone.

The Trickster/Ji-Woon Hak reacting to his S/O cursing in Korean:

It’s just one of those days. Nothing goes right, and every possible thing fucks up.

You’re so tired of this trial, even if your Ji-Woon is the killer.

You wish this would just end already. You break every part in the generators, you can’t sneak or hide for shit apparently and on top of everything Quentin is just aimlessly staring at the wall whenever you come across him in the trial. He must be falling asleep again, stupid guy.

The cup finally spills over for you, when Ji-Woon finds you and decides to taunt you a bit.

He brandishes his knives, singing about how easy you are to catch and how useless your teammates are in this trial. It’s like a whole performance.

You sigh in anger and suddenly you shout: “Gae-sae-kki! Shut up, you idiot!”

Ji-Woon quiets down and stops in the middle of a tap dance, staring at you.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I love you”, you say. “Just, shut up! And you look stupid, dancing like that!”

A moment of silence, then Ji-Woon grins at you.

To your surprise, he leans over and kisses your cheek, then he giggles and starts walking towards Quentin, who’s now clearly asleep.

[forever-and-whats-left]

I saw someone make a headcannon post, so why not?

Erik:

• he knows pressure points, human weaknesses, etc. basically my excuse to say Erik would know how to disarm Meg in LND because what was that.

• good at everything to an infuriating level. (Everything psychological not so much)

• has an arsenal of dad jokes he uses in increasingly insensitive ways.

• has some weird thing about size. Type of guy to call you “small” as a flirtatious move…

• easily hurt, both physically and emotionally, but refuses to take a break or admit it. Unless Christine is concerned, then he’ll do nothing but wail about it for attention.

• his hands are both cold and smelly, take that translation truthers!

• if he were an ordinary man, he’d still be a complete snob.

• when he’s going crazy he vents his emotions out on a Carlotta-esque toad puppet. There is a tiny wooden stick he beats it with.

Christine:

• would love Fiona Apple.

• her love language is tolerating you.

• people call her “nice” because they rarely speak to her at all. Not that she isn’t, but I’ve always thought she was a bit asocial.

• extremely empathetic to animals. She can’t even kill a spider. (Ahem)

• dislikes being touched.

• moved around with her father a lot, so she has some pretty severe attachment issues. She had good reasons to leave Erik, but Raoul(while he can be a jerk) takes the brunt of her poor coping mechanisms.

• In another life, had Erik not been so pushy and murder-y, they would’ve been very very close.

• Asexual. Yeah. Take that.

• Or she at least would dislike the very potent closeness and intimacy the devils tango brings. In other words sex repulsed.

• After the book, I imagine she took a small break from opera. She'd spent so much of her life doing things for others, and now it was time to do something for herself. Maybe she started singing what she wanted to sing, or maybe she pursued something entirely different. My idea: she began writing stories. After all, her connection to them had always been strong.

• a private woman, thus why she didn’t speak with leroux.

Raoul:

• can be an asshole, but more willing to admit it that others. I choose to interpret the fact that he so readily admitted how cruel he was(to a man who would publish this no less!) as an admission of guilt.

• would never take away music from her.

• a bit pudgy, but has some real muscle beneath it. He can’t be a twink doing sailor work I don’t think. (That rhymed!)

• hates Erik for taking his brother from him. He has a hard time watching Christine mourn Erik because of it.

Daroga:

• becomes Christine’s friend after the plot of the book. How, you ask? Beats me.

• I don’t have many headcannons about him I’m so sorry. Please, pitch your own id love to see em! He’s such an interesting character I feel so bad!

[in1-nutshell]

Hello again! another tfa Elita One's twin sister w/ Sg Blackarachnia with a slice of life?

Maybe where Elita One's twin took a day off, like having peaceful time away from work or war related, whether shes's alone or shes accompanied by someone or group (maybe with sari, Megatron, or others)

Add idea:

She's been followed by cons/bots (probably Meg and/or Op/Elita/Sentinel), Elita One's twin Didn't know about it

Buddy really does need a break from all of this.

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's twin sister and Optimus Prime: slice of life

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Cybertronain (techno organic)reader

TFA

It had been an extremely stressful week for both sides.

Optimus had been called over and over by his team, the city, and the Decepticons skirmishes.

The Prime was running on fumes and knew it was only a matter of time before he would collapse. He did try and get his team to lay off a bit, but he knew in the end he would have to take care of it as leader.

Buddy was starting to get frustrated and impatient with how this week had been turning out.

The number of repairs, renovations, and overall, back up was testing her.

Not even Megatron’s sweet words did anything for her.

Then one evening she did snap.

She was so done with everything.

She even threw her screwdriver through the wall nearly impaling Blitzwings wing to the wall. Marching straight into the main room and yelled catching everyone’s attention.

Buddy venting heavy looking at everyone in the optic.

“Now that I have your attention. I will be taking all tomorrow for myself. There will be no medic available until tomorrow is done. If you have an injury, there are other mechs around with medical experience. Unless you are currently offlining, You. Will. Not. Disturb. Me.”--Buddy

Megatron steps to her side.

“Are you sure that is wise—”--Megatron

Buddy turning her helm sharply to her significant other borderline glaring at him.

As if daring him to say the wrong words.

Megatron felt a bit uneasy as he chose his words.

“I mean that the last time you went out, you had been captured. I do not think I need to remind you of that.”--Megatron

There are some murmurs of agreement around.

Buddy gives him a pointed glare before morphing into a sickening sweet face.

“You are right Megatron. Maybe I should take someone with me.”--Buddy

Megatron nods in agreement.

“I wonder if Optimus is available?”—Buddy

All the Decepticon’s look at her in disbelief.

“…what?”--Megatron

“You can’t be serious?”--Starscream

“Why take the puny Prime when you have Lord Megatron right here!?”--Lugnut

“Because Lugnut! Everyone here has recently taken their mandatory breaks, which need I remind you I recommended you take. If this week has been tough on me, I can’t imagine how Prime must be and he is just as stubborn as I am when it comes to breaks. Anyways, I want to spend some time with him. It’s been a while since I’ve had a moment to chat with him.”--Buddy

Buddy looks at Megatron with puppy dog optics.

“You wouldn’t want me all sad knowing that my friend is suffering and me stuck here read to snap?”--Buddy

Megatron’s optics widen a bit.

But the leader is unwilling to give in screwing his optics shut.

Buddy smirks a bit and gently pries his servos open carefully playing with his digits.

“Megatron?”--Buddy

“Yes…?”--Megatron

Buddy suddenly thrusts her servos to his chassis bringing him down to her level.

Her optics looking at him dead serious.

“If I don’t get this break with my friend… I. will. Snap. You see that screwdriver on the wall. That’s going to be IN someone if I don’t get out.”--Buddy

Megatron gulps a bit before absent mindedly nodding.

Buddy’s face falls into extreme tiredness and hugs him before turning to everyone else like she didn’t just put fear into their leader a couple seconds ago.

“Thank you all for understanding. See you all tomorrow!”--Buddy

Buddy leaves the room ready to com in Optimus.

Megatron stands back up straightening his back, optics lingering on Buddy’s retreating form.

“Yeesh! Remind me never get on… whatever side that was…”--Blitzwing

Starscream looking at Megatron.

“Are you really going to let her go? Just like that?”--Starscream

“Of course not. We are going to watch over her.”--Megatron

Lugnut raises his servo.

“Yes Lugnut?”--Megatron

“…Is it wise to do that Lord Megatron? You could be betraying Buddy’s trust in the process. Yes, things have happened in the past with Buddy, but must we stoop so low as to spy on her as if she were an untrustworthy traitor? She is your partner after all…”--Lugnut

All the Cons look at Lugnut as if he grew a second helm.

“That was… insightful of you Lugnut.”--Blitzwing

“I am the only one here with a loving Conjunx.”--Lugnut

“… This is an order to watch over Buddy.”--Megatron

“As you command Lord Megatron!”--Lugnut

Meanwhile Prime just got off the com with Buddy.

Buddy was letting him know that she was going to pick him up so they could have a day for themselves.

He tried to tell her no, but Buddy casually mentioned what she did in the main room.

Now Optimus knew this was serious and changed his answer.

He could practically see Buddy tired smile as she thanked him and hung up.

“Attention everyone. I won’t be available for the rest of the day tomorrow. I’ve got plans with Buddy—”--Optimus

“So, we can join you.”--Sari

“She wants it to just be the two of us. A ‘friend day’ as she put it.”--Optimus

“And what about the Decepticon’s? what if they attack?”--Prowl

“I don’t think they are going to attack while Buddy is out.”--Optimus

“And how can you be so sure?”--Prowl

“Buddy can get very creative if she doesn’t get the mandatory break, even more when it gets disturbed.”—Optimus

He shivers a bit thinking about the last time that happened.

“What is she going to do? Put us in a web?”--Bumblebee

“The last mech who disturbed her peace ended up in the Academy’s med bay.”—Optimus

Silence…

“Say what now?”--Bumblebee

“Oh I know this story.”--Ratchet

“You do?”--Bulkhead

“She was one of my pupils, of course I know. She grabbed a couple rounds of sedative rounds and shot the mech in between the joint wirings. He didn’t come out of it for days.”—Ratchet

Most of the team has wide optics hearing this.

“How didn’t she get in trouble?!”--Bulkhead

“She knows how to hide the evidence. And if I know my student, she probably put the fear of Primus in Megatron if this day gets ruined.”--Ratchet

“And that’s why I’m going. Anyways it’s been a while since we’ve just had a day to ourselves. I expect there will be no interruptions unless there is an absolute emergency. And no, the controller running out of batteries is not an emergency. Good night.”--Optimus

Optimus made his way to his room as his team began to hatch a way to follow him and Buddy on their day off.

It was just a precaution; they weren’t going to let their day get ruined by the Cons.

The next day came in.

Buddy woke up earlier than usual excited for the day and ran to the exit, swinging to the city.

Around the same time Optimus started leaving the Plant.

Both teams were ready to start spying.

Buddy met Optimus in the park.

The two hugged and immediately started chatting away.

Imagine the surprise when both teams found each other spying on their teammates having the free day.

There was a small moment where they were going to fight but it was shushed by Ratchet.

He scolded them, warning that if they got caught not only would they be betraying the trust of the pair but the fact both needed this time.

“And we don’t want to end up like the mech in the medbay.”--Bulkhead

“What mech in the med bay?”--Lugnut

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She put a mech in the med bay for disrupting her day off.”--Ratchet

“Yeah! She shot him with so many tranquilizers that he woke up days later!”--Sari

The Cons looked at each other with a sudden cold shiver running down their back.

Ratchet smirks a bit.

“By the Allspark she did put the fear of—”--Ratchet

“Shush! They’re going to hear us!”--Starscream

“Then truce. Nothing ruins their day. They both need this.”--Prowl

Reluctantly the Cons call a truce for the sake of their teammates.

They both ended up working to make sure Buddy’s and Optimus’s day was perfect.

From swatting incoming balls, shooing birds, even taking hits from a rough paint bot.

Buddy and Optimus were not oblivious to the fact both of their teams were following them.

But they thought it would be fun to play along.

Just to mess with them.

Eventually the day came to an end.

Buddy hugged her friend dearly and they both went to their homes.

Both teams raced to their individual bases and tried to act as if they didn’t do anything.

Optimus entered the plant to find most of his team scattered around the room.

They looked tired yet tried to act as if it was nothing.

“I take it you all had quite a day?”--Optimus

“Oh…ummm… Yeah! Bulkhead wanted to try a new painting style and it took all day!”--Bumblebee

Optimus gives them a look and walks to this room before stopping.

“We’re going to need to practice on your stealth Bumblebee. You can’t hide behind a hot dog cart and expect it to cover all of you.”—Optimus

Bumblebee stares at him with his jaw wide open.

Optimus smiled mischievously and went to his room.

He heard multiple groans and a sound that sounded like someone flicking someone on the helm.

Meanwhile with the Decepticons…

Buddy walked in acting a bit surprised seeing her team a little bit worn out and slightly dented.

“You guys had quite a day I’m guessing.”--Buddy

There are some groans here and there.

Buddy giggled a bit as she turns to hug each member of her team before giving an extra-long one to Megatron.

“I’ll fix all these in the morning, I think that sleeping off the day will do your frames good. Especially after getting pelted with pain guns.”--Buddy

As Buddy made her way back to her room she smiled a bit hearing the groans and something that sounded like a helm hitting the wall.

[pumpkinbxtch]

MY LAST REQUEST 😭 I feel so bad requesting right away AGAIN but I loved your response so much I want more. I CRAVE more of it PRETTY PLEASE WITH A CHERRY ON TOP MAKE A PT2 DO ANYTHING WITH THE PART 2 SLIGHTLY ANGSTY AND FLUFFY PLSPLS 😭🙏🙏❤️❤️❤️ TYSM AGAIN LIKE YOURE LITERALLY THE BEST ur single handily fueling my obsession rn this will be my last one for a while TRUST unless you say otherwise, I don’t wanna overwhelm you ❤️💔

• ° . ☆ “Free coupons, take one and cry all afternoon ” II

— apollo x mortal!reader

part i

summary: part ii, you need to read it, the link is above. run, go warnings: none a/n: really forgive me, haha. I wanted to do something very nice but, well, you'll read what I did. I don't know, forgive me 😔 I couldn't control myself HAHA Still I hope you enjoy it.

Lester was about to throw up the burger, or well, the two bites he had taken. No misunderstanding, it was good.

But you continued to check that they were well taken care of; Giving him pretty smiles and walking near him with that lavender smell of yours. Shit, he wanted to be close to you.

They were too many of you, so they had to join several tables and, among the place that was about to explode, they stood out.

A very lively table, Apollo assumed.

Percy played with his soda making swirls telepathically, Leo put his hand in and undid it, it was funny until the son of Poseidon realized that the drink was disgustingly tampered with. He didn't take a sip again. The other boys laughed.

The girls were talking and laughing and pushing each other, including Meg.

Nico picked at Percy's fries and sipped on Will's soda. Living his best life, Apollo thought.

He liked the idea of being with them and being able to take care of them (even though they beat them to the times they had saved his ass) he could now return the favor.

Oh, if only you could see it. You would be happy. You told him in almost all your lives that he was guilty of being self-centered.

Apollo found himself struggling with the thoughts of him, you weren't dead. You were in front of him.

You passed the door to the counter, holding a tray in each hand. That image flashed in his mind, transporting him back to when you used to walk around with two vases on your shoulders, dancing among the people. Some chains hanging from your neck and the jewelry clashed. You have always been beautiful. Whatever way you came back to him; Boy, girl, you were always beautiful.

— LESTER! —He jumped out of the seat and collided with Jason's shoulder.

— All good?

No, he wanted to be with you.

— The girl over there is talking to you, — Will said with a worried look for his father.

He looked up and spotted you behind the cash register. He made his way towards you without hesitation.

—Mr. Lester, I see that you didn't wait two seconds to use those coupons.— You said with a smile on your lips. Some strands of hair were sticking out from under the cap you were wearing.

—We were hungry.

Idiot, couldn't he think of a better line?

You let out a laugh, and he leaned slightly on the bar, his stomach wouldn't leave him alone.

You leaned over the bar, closing the distance between you. The boy smelled like sunshine and some kind of sweet scent, totally pleasing to your sense of smell. Strangely, you wanted to be even closer to him, like a little impulse to be with him alone, to hug him. Were you attracted to him? But it seemed like a joke, they had only met by chance. You cleared your throat.

— Everything's alright there? — You pointed with your eyes to the table where the rest of his friends and sister were. Although this one had nothing in common with him.

You looked at him. The blonde curls mixed with the black ones making a particular blend, you wondered if it was something genetic and his blue eyes, you had seen them. You were sure.

He touched your shoulder excessively softly, as if he was afraid of breaking you.

— Excuse me?

You let out a laugh and straightened up. Again he was a little further away and you didn't like the feeling.

—I didn't hear you, sorry. Did you say?

Lester smiled.

— It's all good. If we make too much noise, we can leave.

You denied without thinking, almost as an act of desperation. You and he chatted a little more, and you told him to sit down so he could finish his meal.

Walked into the kitchen and cursed under your breath. It was inevitable, he would have to leave at some point. What if you asked for his number? The thought made you bite your lip, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt stupid. Would you look like that in front of him?

You gave him the coupons you had collected to go out with your friends for half a month, just for the sake of it? You never talked to strangers on the street, but Lester didn't seem like a stranger to you.

Apollo returned to the table and ate a chip without much enthusiasm.

Rachel glanced at Piper.

— Any problem? — Frank said drinking soda from the straw.

The god shook his head and sighed. He felt useless, helpless because he wanted to be with you, but he couldn't find a way. Maybe he could ask you for your number. Yeah! Or not?

— I think it's better that you eat. —Rachel said. As if she could guess his thoughts. Or maybe yes? He looked up and took the burger in her hands, after examining it, he handed it to the son of Hades. Nico ate it almost in an instant. And he got up again to go with you.

— Excuse me!

— Tell me — A waiter served him. Apollo felt stupid, so he ended up ordering ice cream.

He returned with the cone in his hand and a pout on his mouth.

Piper hid her giggle behind the paper menu.

The thoughts of asking for his number also didn't leave you alone, but every time you tried to approach him, something simply interrupted you.

You quickened your pace towards him. You cursed the fact that Lester's back was turned, and an arm stopped your path.

— Miss…

Again. You ended up in the kitchen, mumbling and grimacing.

Apollo also couldn't find you at any time that you could speak. He slammed his hand on the table and bumped his forehead against the plastic surface. It seemed like a joke!

Rachel shook her head slightly and stroked her head.

—Hey, Apollo.

He denied rubbing his face on the table.

Everyone wanted to ask, but the redhead put a finger on her lips.

— Apollo

— It's not Apollo, it's Lester

She understood, things weren't going well, but it was inevitable. Rachel got down to Apollo's level.

— Try it one more time, if you hate this, try it as many times as necessary. But know that you tried everything.

The god's blue eyes peered through his hair, and stood up with a sigh.

Everyone at the table pretended not to have heard, they played dumb talking about the weather.

And he tried again.

and he failed again.

You didn't feel any different, you felt like everything had been so easy until you got it into your head that you needed to be with him. You looked through the delivery window and noticed that his table was almost empty, you had worked in food chains for so long to know that they were about to leave the place. Your soul felt a despair that at the same time seemed meaningless to you.

You looked for a pen and paper, a sheet they use for receipt notes.

You wrote your number and a note: call me!, and you doodled a heart. Inexplicably, you also drew a sun. If you couldn't get close, someone else could.

—Brenda!

Your coworker stopped her pace and raised her chin. She just had a tray in her hand, perfect. You walked over to her quickly.

— Deliver this to table seven.

She nodded.

Apollo was already feeling hopeless, he drank Piper's drink and talked to her friends. During the conversation, your coworker handed the note on a small tray. Rachel looked at the paper and waited for Apollo to take it.

He did, and while he was laughing about something Frank had told him, he crumpled it up and threw the ball of paper into the metal trash can.

The redhead didn't say anything, she knew what was happening. She knew that even if she went to the boat and gave the paper to her friend, it would be something else.

The food was finished, and the rest had been pleasant.

Then everyone rose from their chairs.

Apollo looked again at the same window through which you had been spying on him, until at that same moment it was your turn to throw out the trash.

And that's how things ended.

Apollo walked away from the place, and you didn't see him leave. Both felt their spirits on the ground, their stomachs full of anxiety. It was strange, it was fleeting. But when things didn't have to happen, it was that simple. They just wouldn't happen.

At least, not in this life of yours.

Every chance with Apollo would wither, corrode, perish. It didn't matter how much they tried or struggled.

It was not going to work. At that moment, you were destined to meet but not to stay together, not even for a full day.

And how cruel because there was so much he wanted to show you.

But not now, but until 100 years later.

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Ashlynn's writing!

Socials: @oneofthewednesdays (Tumblr) | oneofthewednesdays (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: What’s something you haven’t written yet, but want to write in the future?

A:  So, one of my favorite series when I was in high school was The Mediator series by Meg Cabot. I was absolutely obsessed with the budding romance between Jesse and Suze. In fact, I used to write for the fandom back in my fanfiction.net days. Those early fics have been purged from the Internet as far as I can tell. Anyway, I want to write a Mediator AU for the Six of Crows fandom. Instead of zowa powers, Jesper can see dead people. These dead people may or may not include the ghost of his mother. In his first year at university, he ends up moving into a room in a building that used to be an inn back in the 1800s. Wylan is haunting his bedroom. (He was murdered en route to a music conservatory back in the day). Jesper decides to solve the mystery of Wylan’s murder, at first because he is annoyed by his ghostly roommate. He wants to force Wylan to move on so he can have his room to himself. But later Jesper begins to care about Wylan, even falling in love with him. If you have read The Mediator series, you already know how it is going to end…. Also, Paul Slater will be played by Kuwei Yul-Bo. If you know, you know.

Q: If you could travel anywhere in the Grishaverse, where would you go?

A: I would travel to Ketterdam to study at the university. I absolutely fell in love with the description in the book, with its crooked little alleyways filled with bookbinders and apothecaries. It reminds me so much of Oxford University in real life. I had the opportunity to conduct archival research at Oxford as a visiting scholar when I was in graduate school. During my two summers in England, I spent hours nestled in the Bodleian Library, surrounded by stacks of books. The design of the Boeksplein is basically the same, but with more interesting gargoyles. I am also about to begin my career as a university professor, so the University of Ketterdam just seems like a good fit… as long as gunfights don’t break out in the reading room.

Q: Apart from sight, what is your favourite of the senses to describe when writing?

A: I absolutely love writing with sound, especially words with subtle onomatopoeia. I love the rustle of leaves on a crisp autumn morning, and the murmur of the wind through the branches of a willow tree. I draw quite a bit of inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe here. When I was young, I fell in love with his description of a heartbeat in “The Tell-Tale Heart.” His poem “The Bells” is absolutely mesmerizing to me, and I borrow sounds from it all the time. Indeed, Poe talks quite a bit about the importance of sound in creating mood in one of his essays—“The Philosophy of Composition”—and it is something I think about quite a bit when I write. I love to use the ticking of clocks and the dripping of water to stretch silences. Finally, I absolutely love movies like the Quiet Place franchise because they are a study in soundscapes. In another life, I think it would have been really cool to become a foley artist in the film industry.

❀

Part Two: Selected Works

Sleep No More

Teen | 51.1K | Wesper Modern AU, NYC, Homelessness, Angst with a Happy Ending

Sleep No More is my love letter to New York City. In the opening scene, Wylan wakes up on the 7-train as it leaves the tunnel at Hunters Point Avenue. The glare flickers beneath his eyelids, making it impossible to sleep.  I took the same commute on the 7-train for several years when I was working out at a school in Queens. I would spend over an hour on the train, listening to Crooked Kingdom and other audiobooks on my commute. On one of those commutes, I started to consider the challenges Wylan would face as an unhoused teenager in the city. The story evolved from there to include alternating point-of-view chapters between Wylan and Jesper, and of course, some guest appearances from other crows, as they work together to outwit Jan Van Eck.

Musée des Beaux Arts

Teen | 24.6K | Gen with background Wesper, Kanej Friendship, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Ableism, Happy Ending

I wrote Musée des Beaux Arts during the Six of Crows Big Bang event back in 2022. I wanted to explore how Wylan and Kaz complement each other as character foils throughout the series. Therefore, the story includes alternating point-of-view chapters, starting with the Queen’s Lady Plague. The title comes from a poem of the same name by W.H. Auden, and I tried to incorporate themes from that poem throughout the story. The poem, in particular, discusses a Pieter Bruegel painting called Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. Therefore, artwork plays a central role throughout the narrative. Each chapter shares a title with a famous painting from the Dutch Golden Age. My favorite chapter is probably the third because I had so much fun writing Jesper. 

Sankta Margaretha and Other Tales Of Sorrow

Teen | 18.4K | Kanej  Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst, Implied/Referenced Non-con

This was the first story that I ever wrote for the Six of Crows fandom, and it is easily my most popular fic. It follows Mama and Papa Ghafa on their journey to Ketterdam to reunite with their daughter. I had so much fun developing the unique narrative voices for both Mama Ghafa and Papa Ghafa. The Lives of the Saints features heavily in this fic as well. I fell in love with the story of Sankta Margaretha when I first read it, and I wanted to infuse as much of that mythos into the story as possible. It is, at its core, a story about faith and forgiveness. Plus, I got to write one of my favorite interactions between Papa Ghafa and Kaz Brekker. 

Escapology

Teen | 2.2K | Gen  Modern AU, Escape Rooms, Friendship, Humor

Escapology is such a self-indulgent little fic. I am an escape room enthusiast in real life. I have traveled to multiple cities with my friends to complete escape rooms. We have, to date, done thirty-nine rooms together as a team. I wanted to explore the chaotic energy of a Modern AU where the Crows work together to escape an Ice Court-themed escape room. Kuwei is their poor, exhausted gamemaster.  If we ever get our Six of Crows spin-off, I need Netflix to create an exclusive Ice Court escape room in real life. Can you imagine how fun it would be? 

Pas De Deaux 

Teen | 9.7K | Wesper Holidays, Healing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Post-Canon

I am so fond of this little fic, and not very many people have read it compared to some of the others, but I am not surprised because it was a winter fic that was published well after the winter holidays. It is heavily inspired by the Soldier Prince story in The Language of Thorns, which was in turn heavily inspired by The Nutcracker Suite. Wylan is struggling with less-than-happy memories during Nachtspel, and Jesper helps him make new memories. I started this story writing the kiss at the end, and then had to write nine thousand words to actually get to the kiss.

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Part Three: Author's Recs

Bright Morning Stars by endoftheworld 

Mature | 163.5K | Wesper Hunger Games Crossover, Canon Typical Violence, Rebellion

This is the second story in Now We Are All Chosen Ones. While I would encourage you to read the opening story in the series first, it can absolutely stand on its own as a self-contained story. Jesper has always known that he would be reaped for the Hunger Games. It was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, Wylan is the son of the president, and he begins to realize that he is being watched. Bright Morning Stars keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish, and I absolutely love how the author wove together Six of Crows and the Hunger Games. 

hybrid signal by pyrrhlc

Mature | 110K | Kanej with background Wesper, Helnik  Fairy Tale Curses, Haunted House, Monster Kaz, Hurt/Comfort

Written through the lens of a Beauty and the Beast AU, this is an absolutely gorgeous exploration of not only the love between Kaz and Inej, but also the meaning of forgiveness in all its forms. The worldbuilding is stunning, and I loved how the enchantment transformed each of the crows. There are tragic notes to it, of course, there is an eventual happy ending. 

crystal cut by twosoulsinonehome

Mature | 107K | Wesper Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Figure Skating, Hurt/Comfort

I have reread this fic at least three times since the final chapter was posted in February. It is a figure skating AU. I know nothing about figure skating. However, I was absolutely entranced by the annoyances-to-lovers dynamic throughout the fic. Wylan is a figure skater. Jesper is his coach. Will they kill each other before the end of the season? Or will they kiss each other senseless instead? (Who am I kidding? You already know the answer to that question.)

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

[roublardise]

Lost & Found - a demon!Bela study (ft. Meg)

for @sapphicnaturalrights - day 3 - Came back wrong -> on ao3 - 1.2k

Bela flicks her eyes.

The wrong shade of green stares at her through the grime of the mirror. She tries to squint, hopes the blur would make it look closer to the truth.. Instead her face frowns and loses the few pieces of herself she could have found. There's just the aghast gaze of some lost girl. Maybe that's all she is.

.

Meg is the one who came to her, down the pit. Bela had just been making deals for a few months, and already the other demon was all over her. Among her blabbering about deep desires and what made us human, Meg pushed and pushed as if to break Bela's defences in a whole new game of torture – over with snipping her skin! now Hell was stripping her soul!

And Meg saw through.

"It's unusual," she simply said.

"What?"

"Your vessels."

Bela froze. She wasn't doing anything wrong, she was certain Lilith couldn't care less what vessels she took to each crossroad. But she had gathered, before Meg even pointed it out so obviously, that the way she was going about it was... unusual.

What Hell does first is ruin your body. People – soon-to-be demons – deal with it in different ways.

She's heard the stories about Crowley: how he's picked one vessel, all these years ago, and never changed. Any hurt to his body is hurt to himself – he made it completely his, even before the soul inside died in turn.

She knows some merely have a vague preference and pick whoever's around, or make a guess of their client's own type.

She came to understand that Meg relishes in the possibilities she never got alive, free of medical charges. She had a few different vessels, some for longer than others, before she settled on dark hair and round cheeks.

Still, many leaves their body behind and through Hell comes the opportunity of change.

Bela doesn't work like that.

-> read the rest on ao3 <-

[emotionalmotionsicknessxx]

Belated Valentine's Day Drabble

Erik/Christine, Meg POV, Fluffy as I get

"What a tragedy this is."

Meg crossed her arms as she considered the scene. Erik stood, sleeves rolled to the elbows, in the kitchen of his modest apartment. There was a considerable amount of flour in the mixing bowl in front of him. There was considerably more on his face and shirt.

“Don’t.” He said, lips pressed together in a thin line below his mask.

“I wasn’t going to,” She said, stifling the laugh and swallowing it. “This looks very...good.”

“Meg Giry, you are a terrible liar.”

“But a wonderful friend,” she piped in, traversing the tile floor in an attempt to see what, exactly, had gone wrong in the kitchen. “So I assume the soufflé was a bust?”

“They can be very touchy, yes,” he said, trying to dust the worst of the flour from his once-black shirt. “The humidity isn’t helping.”

“Erik, it’s February,” Meg reminded him. “And...” She pointed to the oven clock. “Your date will be here in an hour.”

It had been several years since her mother had called her asking for a favor; that her friend’s son needed a place to stay when he was in the city. She had said no, obviously - she wasn’t some pervert who was about to let some random man traipse around in her determinedly feminine space and get beard hair in the sink and God-knew what else. But then Erik had arrived three days later with the proof that her mother had ignored her wishes, and he was soaked through from the rain like some horrifying, sopping wet cat, and she could not leave him out there and the rest was history.

It was not a roommate situation that was without flaws; he was a composer, among many things, and this meant listening to the same three notes be plunked out in varying tempos until she thought her ears would bleed; he did leave the seat up, to her chagrin; and he was horrifyingly, constantly, simply always:

There.

She woke up, he was there, making coffee and beginning the same insipid melody. She got home from work, he was still there, several half-drunk beverages on the coffee table. She fell asleep to the sound of his tinkering at the keys, or typing away on his disturbingly out of date white MacBook, which seemed to have been modified to recreate the sounds of typewriter keys.

It was a day, not unlike this one, where she came home from a particularly challenging day of navigating the donors of the city opera AND her increasingly boundary-less boss, that she came home, soaked in a sheen of sweat from the packed train and bus, to find her kitchen upended, and Erik crouched in an unnatural way in front of her tiny oven. She had opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand.

“Silence,” he said. “We need silence.”

She nodded, not bothering to ask why, or for how long, or for what reason. She tiptoed around the counter, only to find her socks soaked through in the dribs and drabs of thick batter, cold and squishing between her toes. She nearly gagged, but did not break her silence until she saw, with horror, every single plate, cup, and kitchen tool in the sink. On top of the soapy water poked out her KitchenAid, the bowl still attached to the mixer now sodden and submerged, the wire cheerfully greeting her from the suds.

“ERIK!”

The soufflé deflated that day, and the KitchenAid got thrown out, and Meg was determined to get Erik a Date™.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she reminded him as the two cake pans were removed from the oven. “She’s very kind, and I don’t know if they even are sweets people.”

“Who?”

“Christine. Erik, focus,” Meg held back the impulse to snap her fingers. “Do you even know if she likes chocolate?”

It seemed he did not consider this. “Who doesn’t like chocolate?”

“I don’t know, Swedish people?” Meg exclaimed. “Look, all I know is she is very sweet, and works in the costume department of the opera, and no one thinks ill of her, which at the opera is a miracle.”

She did not include that most people called Christine Daae, “odd,” or “always with her head in the clouds” or even “strange.” Erik was using a multitool to ice the cake. He could handle a little strange, especially for a girl who said yes to a first date on Valentine’s Day.

She set about straightening the living room, Erik’s compositions into neater piles. “Remember, don’t dominate the conversation.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Erik...” Meg warned. “No composing diatribe. No mansplaining.”

“I don’t mansplain.”

“You are a man, and you ‘plain,” she retorted. “And she works at the opera. She doesn’t need to hear you explain Puccini, she knows things.”

She stood, the living room straightened, the candles less...scattered, to see Erik, covered in flour and now icing, standing in the decimated kitchen. She sighed.

A shower, a brisk cleaning of a kitchen that would not hold up to her mother’s scrutiny, and one intercom buzz later, Meg was smuggling her take-out to her room with a blown kiss to a very startled, very rigid Erik. Every candle and then some illuminated the area around the piano, and Meg prayed to any God that would listen that he wouldn’t come on too strong. She crossed her fingers for good measure, and retreated.

That night, the tinkling of piano keys woke her to the most beautiful music. She fell back asleep to it, her dreams colored by the placid joy of the new composition.

She found him alone in the kitchen, standing over the espresso machine.

“So...it went well?” She asked, wriggling her shoulders.

Erik looked up at her, as though startled out of a reverie. “Yes, very well, in fact. We are getting married!”

Meg blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

[queermania]

For me it's that Dean blames Castiel for what happened with Belphegor because Castiel did the right thing but Dean is angry at him anyways and it's not fair

i mean, i fully agree that dean blaming cas for what happened with belphegor is not fair but i also think it's pretty obvious that that's not what their fight and subsequent breakup is actually about. the belphegor plan going wrong and resulting in rowena's death is just the straw that breaks the camel's back.

to me, their fight reads as dean being at his wits' end with everything that's happening and he's lashing out and he's taking it out on cas, which isn't fair, but at the same time he has every right to be mad at cas for other things. cas' fatal flaw is thinking he has to handle every single problem on his own, despite that never working out for him, and he literally never learns from it, and this time it resulted in mary's death. mary's death isn't his fault, of course, but what was going on with jack is just another thing that cas kept from dean. they've been stuck in a cycle of miscommunication for years.

dean 'please don't leave me' winchester wants cas to come to him with problems so that they can deal with them together and cas 'please ask me to stay' tiel wants to prove he's useful by fixing problems on his own so dean doesn't have to deal with them.

unfortunately for cas, his track record of actually fixing problems isn't great so to dean it just looks like cas is causing even bigger problems because...? he doesn't trust dean? he doesn't want to work with dean? hubris? whatever it is, they've been doing it for a decade. fandom likes to boil it down to dean being upset that cas didn't tell him about the snake but that's so reductive it's infuriating. dean's upset because cas was so concerned about what was going on with jack that he's immediately worried when he hears that mary's been alone with jack, to the point that he thinks jack's done something bad, and that instead of relaying these concerns to anybody else, he fucked off to try and fix it on his own and now it's too late.

mary's dead. jack's dead. chuck has been manipulating them their whole lives. was any of it real. rowena's dead. does any of it even matter. the only thing that feels real is the anger. they saved the world but at what cost. mary's dead. jack's dead. chuck has been manipulating them their whole lives. was any of it real. rowena's dead. ketch. kevin. charlie. bobby. crowley. adam. jo. ellen. ash. pamela. missouri. benny. meg. does any of it even matter.

the only thing that feels real is the anger.

my point is that the way dean is acting towards cas is unfair (and unproductive and unhealthy) but the anger he feels isn't unearned. and the show literally never solves this issue between them. dean apologizes for lashing out at cas but if cas hadn't sacrificed himself in 15x18, they would 100% have had this problem again at some point because they still haven't figured out how to communicate what it is they actually want.