#meg fills a prompt for once

[yandere--stuck]

Okay I know this kind of AU is super common for video game characters, but you're the only person I know who produces that Good Kush content for Yandere!Zagreus: falling in love with the player.

A Zagreus who becomes self-aware as to his role as a protagonist and can feel your decisions being the shadow over his own. Instead of feeling frustrated or existential, he's filled with an overflowing amount of joy. You care! You're trying so hard to help him fulfill his goal! Every time you pick the game back up he becomes more and more infatuated, trying to figure out more about you from the way you play. You've been picking the bow a lot lately and using Eurydice's keepsake, which means you're trying to avoid damage, which means you don't want to see him hurt! You've been taking boons from Aphrodite, surely that must be you trying to signal your blooming interest? And when you spend hours bingeing the game it HAS to mean he's more important to you than whatever it is your world holds.

Once you've fully beaten the game is where he starts to get desperate. There's still a side quest or two, but he needs you to know he "returns your affection" before you put down the game indefinitely. So he starts to manipulate his code in little ways. Prompts to gift nectar disappear, except weirdly enough next to Zagreus' bed? When you press the prompt out of curiosity, he's elated. He can't invent script, but he cobbles together words out of his bank of voiced lines. Words of thanks, words of praise. Words that are meant to go to Meg and Thanatos are mixed together to say you're dear to him, that he'll wait for you as long as it takes.

The next time you reach the surface, you lose control of his character model completely. He starts running around the edges of the screen, trying to smash the scenery. You can't hear what he's saying, he's too lost in his desperation to try and sew together the words he's looking for. Surely if he can get beyond this screen, you'll be on the other side? If he can just push a little farther, if he can just use a little more of the beautiful strength you've cultivated just for him, you two can finally be together, right? It HAS to work. He HAS to be able to meet you properly. His SOULMATE wouldn't exist unless there was a happily ever after!

...and if he can't get out, well, perhaps there's a way to bring you in?

(Oh geez this is way longer than I meant it to be, sorry. I'm a big fan of your writing! Keep up the good work!)

I feel so bad for never getting the motivation to write smth for this idea - it's so good and I love self aware aus! But this is written so marvelously, I didn't want to just delete it, so I hope that's okay!

Once again, sorry this is late, but I really appreciate you sending it in and your kind words! You're a very talented writer yourself considering what you posted here! ^^ 💚

[melancholic-hues]

you slip through the cracks / in my sight as i cover / my eyes, i am blind

posted on AO3

toapril 2024: prompt - missed target

fandom - trials of apollo

rating - general audiences

warning - no warnings apply

category - gen

pairings - past apollo/commodus

tags - toapril 2024 ; toapril; commodus is a girlfailure ; i don’t even know what that means ; i just know

word count - 578 words

-

Commodus will capture that brat.

He seethes in his spot, parts of his expensive clothing torn, surrounded by the aftermath of the damned Hunters of Artemis’ little show. The wind blows through his ruined stadium, sending piles of rock and metal above crashing into the ground. Dust is heavy in the air, acting as an annoying thin veil.

Scraps of his torn racing suit peel off, revealing his divine skin, scraped and cut. How dare they? How dare Apollo and, whatshername, Meg?, ruin his beautiful suit and injure him? Do they know who he is?

He pulls his right hand, his fingers tightly gripping his throat almost to the point of pain, away to see bright crimson on his palm. He suppressed a shiver; not at the blood (maybe a bit because, again, how dare they hurt him?!), but at the sensation of hands curling around his throat, harshly shoving him further into the tub as he breathed water into his —

Commodus slams his sword into the Germani who braved standing guard at his side. The Germani, with a groan, crumples onto the ground and turns into dust. It’s no one important anyway. Another one of those useless henchmen who can do absolutely nothing.

“Get me a healer,” he roars to the rest of the Germani, glaring at anyone else who dared to step within six feet of him. All around him is the sound of rushed shuffling and stomping of feet as the stadium cleared out in minutes. Brats. He’ll just kill them all later.

They’d returned to the stadium immediately after Apollo and his little group of circus monkeys left the vicinity of the place to assess the damage. All of his hard work put into rebranding the stadium, gone.

All of his hard work into capturing the peach spirit and luring Apollo and the Nero’s brat here, gone. Gone within seconds.

Apollo. Elusive as always.

He’d waited millennia for the perfect opportunity to capture the man who’d killed him, only for Apollo to exit his life within hours. If someone has commitment issues, it’s definitely the god of the sun. Oh, sorry, the former god of the sun. There is a reason why Apollo’s most well known love stories end in tragedies, his lovers all dead at his hands.

Including him.

Once he finds that accursed Waystation, he is going to blow it to bits and slowly gut all of the inhabitants in front of Apollo. He will revel in the horror and despair that will be evident in Apollo’s eyes, then, because he has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Well, he’s going to regret that when Commodus cuts it out and crushes it. Literally and figuratively.

He laughs, hand curling around the hilt of his sword. He imagines driving the blade into Apollo’s mortal flesh, laughing as the other thrashed under him again. In the end, Apollo will always be underneath him. Again, literally and figuratively.

His laughing turns into crazed, heavy breathing. Dust enters his lungs, and he coughs.

Red hot anger fills him.

He snarls, and, with a shout, drives the blade of his sword into the ground of the stadium. “APOLLO,” he shouts into nothingness, knowing the other will not hear his words, “I WILL FIND YOU, THEN I WILL KILL YOU. MARK. MY. WORDS.”

His voice echoes around whatever remains of the stadium with the confidence and surety of a god; yet, Commodus does not fully believe himself.

[plumblossom37]

ToApril 2023!

heya everyone, April is once again looming over us, and so I'm announcing the return of toapril in 2023! whoop whoop :D

bet you didn't expect me to be the host. me neither, man. as the host, though, I do want to outline the rules of toapril:

please keep it toa-related! you can use characters from other series or even one of your own, but the prompts (see below) were made with apollo and/or meg in mind. I don't limit you to just them, though, and you can create with other toa characters, too.

no nsfw, please. mature topics can be referenced, but any graphic content is not allowed.

note: ships aren't the main focus of toapril, but you can definitely make ship content!

(no I didn't just copy and paraphrase the post from last year about toapril wdym this is a totally original post ahahahahaha..,,,)

if you're writing a fanfic on ao3, please put it in the toapril 2023 collection. if you're not sure how to do that, I'll give you some instructions:

step 1: there's a button on the top right saying "post to collection".

the rest is just as usual, just fill in everything as you would usually.

alternatively, make a new work as usual, but in this section, add it to a collection:

and please put it into toapril 2023 lol. toapril 2022 is closed I believe, but toapril 2023'll be open for more than just for April if you didn't get to finish something during April :>

btw if you wanna post content onto Tumblr, please tag it with #toapril ; additionally, please tag it with #toapril 2023 for an easier search between the 2 different toaprils lol

as well, you can tag this blog (plumblossom37). I'll try to look at all the cool works in toapril 2023!

have fun creating, everyone :D

[griseldabanks]

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Requested by meg is me from the Fig Tree Discord server

Fandom: Lord of the Rings Characters: Frodo and Sam Prompt: "Why are you helping me?"

Sam couldn't stop shivering. Even with his cozy old dressing gown cinched tight and his toes almost in the embers of the kitchen hearth, he felt the cold down to his bones. Strange. He'd just been thinking the nights were finally beginning to warm up, now they were well into March....

His hands were shaking so badly he had to grip the poker with both fists as he struggled to stoke the fire and get a good blaze going. But he managed it eventually, and bustled around briskly to fill the kettle and get some tea started. Chamomile. Good for easing the nerves, and it would bring warmth back to his cold fingertips. “Wouldn't say no to some of that miruvor right about now,” he muttered to himself.

But that only brought to mind stumbling through the snow up on Caradhras. The bitter wind freezing him right through his thick cloak. Mr. Frodo huddling next to him, going dangerously still as if freezing to the spot. Which put him in mind of his dream....

A huge shudder rushed through him, and the tin of tea fell from his hands with a clatter, scattering dried flowers and leaves all over the floor. “Clumsy oaf,” he muttered to himself, clasping his shaking hands together and staring at the mess he'd made.

Maybe food was what he needed. Something to fill his belly while he waited for the water to boil. Rosie had come by the day before, bringing a basket of sticky rolls filled with honey. There should still be a few left in the bread box. Yes...all he needed to do was get something to eat and sit by the fire and think of Rosie and her beautiful smile....

He opened the bread box. Out of the darkness, something crawled towards him. A small, black something with too many legs.

With a yelp, Sam grabbed a frying pan from the hook over his head and smashed it down on the unsuspecting spider. When he raised the pan again, the spider skittered away, having dodged the blow. Sam dived after it again, knocking a jar of marmalade onto the floor with a crash. But this time, Sam lifted the pan and saw to his satisfaction that the spider was nothing but a squashed mess of twitching legs on the counter.

“Sam?”

The frying pan fell from his fingers as Sam spun around, finding Frodo watching him with a concerned expression from the doorway. He held his quilt around his shoulders like a cloak, and his tousled hair and lack of a dressing gown suggested he'd just tumbled out of bed.

Cocking his head curiously, Frodo glanced around the room, taking in the scattered chamomile tea, the spilled marmalade, the frying pan lying at Sam's feet. “What are you doing?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to wake you,” Sam said, looking sheepishly down at his feet and clasping his hands together in an attempt to stop their trembling. “I was just...trying to....” He wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden his eyes filled with tears. His chest felt tight, like when Gollum....

No, no, not him, don't think about him, don't think about her....

The next thing he knew, Sam found himself being pushed gently into a chair pulled right up next to the kitchen fire. “Easy, Sam, it'll be all right. Can you eat? Just sit there, and I'll get your tea.”

Sam tried to push away the plate Frodo was trying to give him, upon which sat a thick slice of bread slathered with clotted cream. “N-No, you don't...have to...I can....” Another huge shudder ran through his whole body when he tried to stand, and Frodo pushed him firmly back down.

“Eat,” he repeated, with a stern glint in his eye.

Sam reluctantly accepted the plate and broke off a corner to nibble on. Once he got started, he found that the midnight snack did make him feel a little better after all. Tears still rolled down his cheeks, but the shivers died down a little, now that he sat within the cone of warmth in front of the fire.

Sniffling miserably, Sam watched as Frodo salvaged what he could of the spilled tea and steeped a cup of it, setting it on the table at Sam's elbow. While Sam clutched the teacup in both hands and sipped at it, Frodo quietly cleaned up the rest of the tea and the marmalade, and wiped off the frying pan and hung it back on its hook. Sam peered into the dregs of his tea so he wouldn't have to see Frodo washing away the remains of the spider.

“Why are you helping me?” he mumbled, setting his teacup down again. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

Adjusting the quilt around his shoulders, Frodo turned to look at him. Maybe it was just the firelight casting deep shadows on his face, but in that moment, Frodo looked gaunt and weary. Almost like he had right at the end...lying on a broken mountainside, cheeks hollow, firelight turning his pale face crimson....

But when Frodo smiled, it was his old smile. Not the strained near-grimace Sam had seen far too often on their journey. A real smile, full of nothing but fondness. “Sam. My dear, dear Sam. You have taken care of me. And now it's my turn.”

Sam impatiently scrubbed his sleeve across his face. “But...after everything....”

“Yes.” Frodo crossed over to him and gently placed his hand on Sam's cheek. “After everything.”

Sam put his hand over Frodo's. One finger was missing, but his palm was warm against Sam's skin.

[allthefakepeople]

11 and/or 12 (actually all of the above, but I’m not gonna make you do that bestie lmao) for Wilmon

hi hi meg bestie

i'm sorry this took a little longer to get to you than i originally thought however it is still over 1K.

and just for you i combined both prompts into one post

also i saw THIS post and @daylightsimon tag and those helped to inspire the final scene.

without further ado, i hope you like it

-miels 💜✨

Kissing Prompts (pls send me more)

Prompt(s):

11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss

After the insanity that was the month following Wilhelm’s coming out, Wille and Simon had made an unspoken promise to never take the simple moments for granted again. This included spending afternoons by the lake together, taking in the scene as much as they take in each other, having dinners with Linda (the tension between Simon and Sara was still too fraught and neither could bear explaining the situation to Linda yet) followed by reacquainting Wille with Simon’s room, and exchanging casual “i love yous” that still managed to leave both of them breathless. Every moment they spent together just solidified what they already knew, that this was it. That if they could have this for the rest of their lives, they would be happy. 

Of course there were still moments sprinkled throughout their paradise where reality would settle in. Where they would snap at each other or where they realized that the other needed something that they just couldn’t provide at that moment. Wille was still working on understanding what the entire winter and semester had been like for Simon, while also learning how to be there for Simon. Wille had never felt more lucky than, ironically, when Simon had a breakdown in his arms. Simon had run into Micke at the store; it had sent him into a spiral that led to finally opening up to Wille about Simon’s relationship with his father. All Wille could think about while Simon cried softly in his arms was how lucky he was that Simon trusted him again, trusted him at all actually. On the other hand, Simon had started to understand the pressure Wille was under and realized how little Wille had been allowed to mourn the death of Erik. Simon also finally witnessed what it was like when Wille had a panic attack. Not everything was perfect.

But despite the harder times, Wille and Simon always came out of it stronger and, most importantly, together. Simon had never felt happier and Wille, never more at peace. The smiles came freely and the laughter was endless. The past few months were washed away with every light-hearted giggle that passed between them. 

Another thing they would never take for granted again was waking up next to each other. 

Wille could feel his body coming back into consciousness. The early morning sounds of Hillerska filled his ears. He could feel a warm body pressed up against him and felt his mouth spread into a smile at the feeling. Sometimes he felt tears prick his eyes at the filling of Simon being in his arms again. But today he just felt content. At peace. His eyes slowly opened and he turned his head to gaze at where Simon rested against him. Wille’s eyes tracked Simon from the top of his head all the way down to where Simon’s torso disappeared beneath the covers. He felt a warm glow rush through him, filling him up and rushing out of him again. His hand that had been wrapped around Simon’s waist started to lightly stroke along Simon’s side, encouraging him to wake up. 

Once the light didn’t work, Wille leaned forward and started leaving light kisses along Simon’s neck. This seemed to do the trick because Wille felt Simon let out a sigh, the most pure sigh he had ever heard, before he shifted onto his back. Simon’s eyes were still closed but Wille knew he was waking up. Wille watched, charmed, as Simon’s head turned towards him and his lips pursed as if asking for a kiss. Wille would never deny Simon but he also enjoyed teasing his boyfriend just a little too much. 

Instead of immediately pressing his lips to Simon’s, as what his boyfriend was requesting, Wille lightly pressed his lips to Simon’s cheek instead. He felt the subtle way Simon’s mouth twitched upward before it settled back into a pout. 

“Wille.” Wille felt a slight shiver flow through him hearing his name fall from Simon’s lips in his morning voice. However he wasn’t about to give in just yet. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Simon’s other cheek instead, feeling the way Simon had started to tense up. A sure sign he was about to laugh. Wille settled completely over Simon and felt a hint of something possessive flow through him over how perfectly he fit between Simon’s legs. Wille then brought his lips up to Simon’s forehead and pressed his lips gentle to the smooth skin there. Simon still refused to open his gorgeous, dark eyes so Wille moved down to his nose. He then moved to the corner of Simon’s mouth. 

Wille knew what was coming next. Simon quickly turned his head so that their mouths would connect. Wille smiled against Simon’s mouth over being able to predict his moves so accurately. Their lips moved slowly but softly together. Neither moving to deepen it quite yet. Wille felt Simon’s hands trail up and into his hair, as they usually do, and he melted completely into Simon. Wille pulled away briefly, smirking lightly over Simon’s mouth following his. 

“What happened to complaining over my disgusting morning breath?” Wille jokes, their lips brushing together. He feels Simon’s mouth spread into a smile at this.

“It’s still disgusting…” Simon reconnects their lips quickly before continuing. “but I don’t really care.” This time it’s Wille’s turn for his mouth to spread into a smile. Finally he pulls his mouth away and opens his eyes, wanting to feel the weight of Simon’s love on him. As his own eyes open, they connect to Simon’s and he feels a rightness settle inside him over finally having Simon’s eyes on him this morning. 

“Good morning.” Wille greets, watching as affection fills Simon’s expression.

“Morning.” Simon brings his hand up to brush Wille’s hair out of his eyes, it’s continued to grow longer in the past two months and he hasn’t cut it yet, and settles his hand on the back of Wille’s neck. Wille brings his own hand up to Simon’s jaw and lightly strokes the edge, preening internally over the way Simon pushes into his touch. 

“We should probably start getting ready for today.” Wille admits, though he really doesn’t want to leave this moment yet. Simon clearly agrees because he whines lightly.

“Not yet. Please, a few more minutes.” And who is Wille to argue? He brings his lips back down to Simon’s and settles back into his arms. 

* * *

Later that day, after a long day, Wille and Simon are cuddled together at the back of the main room at Manor House. The usual film night in full swing. It felt so nice to be able to be wrapped up in each other and have no one bat an eye. Wille had his arm wrapped around Simon’s shoulder while Simon’s head rested on Wille’s shoulder. They had a blanket across their lap and their hands were intertwined underneath, Wille’s thumb stroking along Simon’s. They had taken a little bit to feel comfortable showing this much affection in front of the Hillerska students after everything that had happened, but eventually they realized that they didn’t want to waste even more time not in each other’s arms after everything. 

Simon’s eyes were on the projector screen, attention completely captured by whatever film was being shown, however Wille had never been good at tearing his eyes away from Simon. Anytime they watched something together Wille always preferred taking in Simon’s expressions rather than whatever was on the screen. He knew that Simon could tell that Wille was staring at him, but Simon never gave any indication that he cared, other than to tease him of course. 

Eventually, having felt Wille’s eyes on him for long enough, Simon turned and caught Wille’s gaze. Delight filled Simon over Wille’s cheeks clearly darkening, even after all this time still getting flustered. Despite being caught, however, Wille didn’t tear his eyes away from Simon. Instead Wille leaned over and whispered in Simon’s ear.

“I love you, Simon.” Wille then pulled back and Simon felt flutters in his chest over those four words. Their eyes connected and tension slowly built between them. As much as they got used to holding hands and cuddling in front of people, they still refrained from anything other than simple pecks on the lips when around other people. This meant, more often than not, they usually snuck away to be alone. They knew people were definitely aware of what was going on when they left together but, for the most part, people were respectful of their boundaries and only those they trusted, life Felice or Maddie, joked with them about it.

Wille gestured his head towards the door and Simon nodded in response to the unspoken question. They quietly unraveled from each other and snuck out the door closest to them, one of the benefits of getting a seat near the back. Once they were in  the hall they both sped up knowing exactly where they were headed. They reached the window seat from their first kiss and immediately turned towards each other, giggling at the obvious anticipation between them. Wille sat down on the seat and opened his legs for Simon to slide between, Simon’s arms crossing behind Willes head while Wille’s hands snuck around Simon’s waist, pulling him in. 

“I love you, too. I realize I didn’t say it back there.” Wille’s expression at these words leaves Simon breathless. Their lips come together naturally, softly at first but quickly deepening. Simon’s hands move from behind Wille’s neck into his hair and Wille’s hands travel under Simon’s shirt to rest directly on the skin above his waistband. Simon inhales at feeling Wille’s hands directly on his skin, sparks still filling him at Wille’s touch. At the sound of Simon’s gasp, Wille quickly stands from the window seat and slides his hands down Simon’s legs before picking him up, Simon’s legs instinctively wrapping around Wille. 

“God, it’s still so hot that you can do that so easily.” Simon’s voice is filled with desire and Wille feels it throughout his whole body.

“Well you’re just hot in general.” Wille retorts, slowly walking them back until Simon’s back is pressed against the wall next to the doorway.

“God, you’re so cheesy.” Simon teases, although Wille can tell he’s pleased by the compliment anyways.

“Maybe you should shut me up then.” Simon’s eyes turn even darker somehow at Wille’s words and any other thought that either of them has is quickly lost to the night as their lips connect again.

[thebeckster]

for the drabble game— 26;6 with Frey!! Not that we have any evidence of fairs existing in-universe. But if they DID that would be fun.

Thank you for the prompt! I had so much with this one! I probably gave the fair a more american-based carnival sense than anything else, but gosh working on this really made me crave some funnel cakes and kettle corn! Thankfully it's almost fair season!

Enjoy!

💜💜💜💜

Selphia had been abuzz for days. A fair had come to town!

Days had been spent building the anticipation as fences came up, hiding the booths and tents just outside of town. The only things that could not be hidden were the towering mechanical rides and, given the way they were bedecked in colorful lights, people suspected they were meant to be seen. Bright and musical lures to help build the excitement.

And finally it was opening night.

Frey had never been to a fair before, not that she could remember. Most people in town hadn’t either, they weren’t common in this region of the kingdom, and the last time a fair had come to Selphia most of the people her age had been small children.

Naturally, Frey was not the only person looking forward to the carnival with a growing feeling of childish excitement. Responsibilities and jobs and other concerns were set aside as soon as the sun began to sink towards the horizon, and tantalizing smells wafted over from the fairgrounds.

The fair would be there for a few days, but nobody was going to miss opening night.

The warm summer air was thick with humidity and anticipation as the masses milled outside the gates. Excited chatter roared dully.

Frey clung to Margaret’s arm as she stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to get a peek beyond the fence. “What are you most excited for, Meg?”

“Hmm… the games I think! Or maybe the food, it smells so good already.”

“I want to ride everything! Especially that!” Frey pointed to the centerpiece of the fairgrounds. Easily the largest thing there, it was a great big wheel that spun slowly, and there were little benches all around it that were clearly meant to hold riders. “Bet you could see the whole grounds from the top.”

Margaret shivered. “You won’t get me on that thing. No ma’am!”

Frey grinned and bumped her shoulder against her friend’s. “We’ll see about that. I bet I can wear you down.”

“I won’t be caught dead on that thing,” she retorted with a giggle.

A band played a fanfare, and a jolly man dressed in a riot of colors climbed up to a small stage. He said a few words of welcome and then declared the fair open. The gates swung wide, the crowd surged forward with a cheer, and Selphia enjoyed their first fair in decades.

Frey’s first stop was the ferris wheel. Meg stayed on the ground and bought them some lemonade while she waited. The view was incredible, and Frey knew she had to get Meg up there at least once. That view would be worth facing her fear of heights.

Frey couldn’t remember having this much fun, ever. There was so much to do at the fair, and she knew even if she came back every day and did everything twice, she still would not grow bored. The games were fun, and there was so much food, she knew she’d have to make at least one more visit if she wanted to sample everything, and near the center of the fairgrounds was a large stage where posters promised a lineup of special guests and performances over the next couple days.

There were booths showing off interesting creations, and selling novelties and toys, and there was even a dark tent filled with all sorts of oddities and unnaturalities, like a two-headed buffamoo and the mummy of a fairy-palm cat hybrid. Frey rode every ride twice, riding with Meg when the elf agreed to go on one, or pairing off with another friend when Meg needed a break. She and Doug nearly spun themselves sick on a ride modeled after Pomme Pommes when they discovered they could spin themselves around incredibly quickly.

After a night of fun and food and friends, things were winding down. People were heading home to bed, to dream of technicolored lights and fairground music. The humidity had risen and older folks were quick to claim their joints were warning them of overnight rain. There was just enough time for one more ride.

Frey saved all her best cajoling and puppy-dog eyes to the last to give Margaret the push she needed to get on that ferris wheel. “You have to try it at least once. And now that it’s dark it won’t feel so high up. But you have to see the view of everything from up there. I bet all of the lights are just gorgeous.”

And her wheedling paid off. Meg plucked up her courage and agreed to go. “But just this once!” she insisted as they joined the line.

They sat on their bench and Meg fussed about the safety bar not being secure at all. And Frey promised to hold her hand while they were up there, and she pinky promised to not rock the bench back and forth. And when all the carriages were loaded up, they began to go around and around in a slow rotation.

Meg did okay around ground level, but for the first couple revolutions she resolutely shut her eyes and squeezed Frey’s hand until they were heading back down again. They were at the very peak of the wheel, and Frey was trying to get Meg to open her eyes just a little bit to see all the lights and Selphia all aglow – it was a view of their home they’d never get otherwise – when the wheel came to a sudden, juddering halt.

Their bench rocked for a moment, and Meg gave up all her courage and with a fearful squeak buried her head in Frey’s shoulder. “Why have we stopped?”

“I don’t know, this didn’t happen last time.” Frey craned her neck over the side and looked down, she could see workers moving around but she couldn’t tell what they were doing.

After a minute or so, one of the workers called up, “Sorry folks, looks like we’re having some mechanical problems. Just sit tight and we’ll get you down in a jiffy.”

“Ooooh, why couldn’t this have happened when we were close to the ground?” Margaret moaned.

“Hey,” Frey offered cheerfully, “things could be worse, right? It’s could be—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Meg’s eyes flew open in alarm, looking at Frey with the utmost betrayal.

Frey grinned wickedly. “It could be raining.”

Meg squeaked and flinched fearfully, as if Frey’s words had the power to open the heavens and call forth the rain.

When they remained dry, and Frey’s temptation of fate had gone unanswered, she cracked an eye open, looked skyward just to be certain, and then socked Frey in the arm.

“You should know better than to say something like that! Being stuck up here in the rain would be miserable.”

Frey laughed. “It was worth it just to see the look on your face. I don’t think I have the power to control the weather, but if you want to cool off, there’s always Water Laser.” She threw out her hand, mining the spell casting.

Laughing now too, Meg pushed away Frey’s arm. “You wouldn’t dare. They wouldn’t let you back into the fair.”

“Hmm… true. Now before, we start moving again, I just want you to take one quick look around. You’ve got to see what these lights look like from up here. One good look, and I promise I won’t ask you to come on this anymore.”

Margaret froze, her smile sliding slowly off her lips. She met Frey’s eyes and held her gaze for a long, long moment. Frey could see her fighting her fears, and when she didn’t squeeze her eyes shut once more, she knew her friend had won.

“Hold my hand?” Meg asked quietly, holding out a slightly trembling hand.

“Of course.” Frey took it, steadying Meg as she braced herself.

Slowly, she tore her eyes away from Frey’s and looked out into the darkness – solid and starless due to the overhead clouds – and then she looked down where the multicolored lights of the fair spread out all around them. Like a bejeweled spiderweb catching the sunlight. The fair at night had been pretty from the ground, but a view from above transformed it completely. And then there was Selphia, muted compared to the rainbow fair below them, but glowing warmly in the summer night from streetlamps and windows.

“I can see my house from here,” Margaret realized with a soft, surprised giggle.

“Told you the view was worth it.” Frey said, giving Meg’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

The ferris wheel jerked slightly, as the workers got things moving again, slowly they began to move the carriages around and let the stranded passengers off.

Meg sat back in her seat, still holding onto Frey tightly, but this time she didn’t close her eyes. The view was worth memorizing.

“You were right,” she admitted, “Thank you. But I’m never getting back on this death trap again.”

Frey grinned and leaned up against Meg. “I promise I’ll never ask again.”

[feyofmay]

Hello!! I absolutely love your writing and was so excited to see your requests are open!! 💛 I was wondering if i could request a platonic amy march x reader (gn or fem is absolutely fine) with the prompt "i missed you so much". i was imagine maybe reader had been travelling for a while or just hadn't been spending much time with amy recently, and they both miss eachother alot and just have a fluffy reunion! though of course feel free to go whichever direction inspiration takes you!!!! (i also don't mind whether its just best friends or reader and amy are siblings, though i am very biased to the latter)

Even if you don't end up writing this, thank you so much for the things you have written because I'm absolutely in love with them!!!! and of course an extra big thank you if you do write this!!!!

— aubrey!! (@yokolesbianism/aubeystawby) 💛💛

AWWW tysm!! Literally you’re the sweetest & it warms my tiny little heart!! Of course I will write your little request, but I made it a little different. (for flavor ;0)

Word Count: ~800

(not edited, so there’s some grammatical errors. sorry not sorry)

The ache of the youth spent in the twisting thorns of blackberries & dashing madly down dusty paths like deer fleeing from the maw of a greater beast is not felt until, when waking up one morning, her bones are stiff & wooden. As if, if she were to bend her elbow, she could hear a creaking sound from the rusty nail between her two joints. Ever since Amy had left for France to pursue her dream of becoming a great artist,- one who, in her triumphant cries, “would rival Renoir and Boticelli and Thomas Lawrence!”- y/n, the youngest March, has awoken to the splintering ache of an accosted youth.

To say she misses her sisters is an understatement to the highest degree. Everything is far too quiet without the constant chirping of her sisters, a never ending symphony of adolescent conundrums & complaints. Once an eternal twilight, with her sisters playing the role of singing cicadas, the morning had risen with their departure from the best. Several things, which she previously thought were silent, have now shed their fear, & the appliances remind her of her creaking bones with their squeals & whines. The only thing that ever eased her mind was Beth’s piano, a reminder that, although her sisters have grown, she still remains young & a girl.

However, one early morning, the noise of chittering like field mice in a barn snuck in from underneath her door. Like a puppet, her wooden bones acted in the same order that they always have. Planting her feet on the ground, she threw her- well, it was first Marmee’s, then Meg’s, and then Jo found it far too “girlish”, so it was lastly Amy’s- shawl, a soft blue & green woolen piece, to keep herself from freezing in the morning sun.

“Marmee! What’s with all the clamor?” Y/N shouts out as she rubs the last grains of dreams quickly forgotten, a gift from Sandman in the night. Their voice is scratchy like an itchy wool scary as they waddle toward their door. Before Marmee can even consider replying, a shrill squeal fills the house.

“Sister! How I’ve missed you!” the shriek makes the wallpaper curl into itself, & the pounding noise of, what can only be assumed to be, heavy iron weights plummeting onto their creaking wooden stairs grows closer & closer to the half-awake Y/N. Immediately recognizing that voice before she can even register the smell of fresh air streaming in from her open window or the sticky feeling of morning dew on her face, Y/N snatches the door knob & swings it open wildly with reckless abandon.

There, standing before her, in a voluminous, almost cartoonishly large crinoline skirt with tiers upon tiers of ruffles & lace-trimming in differing shades of porcelain blue & silver, her sister & part of her soul, Amy, stands before her like a statue carved from marble & opal. With a toothy grin that reminds Y/N of all the long summer days spent rolling around in the vibrant green grass by the meadow, Any doesn’t waste a second as she barrels towards Y/N & catapults her arms around her little sister, who is unsure if she’s simply still dreaming or actually awake.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you! I’ve missed you so so dearly! All I could think of was how I wished you were beside me. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you! ” Amy rambles on as she digs her face into the nest of locks that rests upon her sister’s head like a rabbit burying into fresh earthen dirt. Curling her fingers around the poofy & seemingly floating sleeves that hug Amy’s sleeves in ways Y/N didn’t know was even possible, the cool touch of the soft, buttery linen kisses her fingers like a distant memory of childhood that’s been lost to the breeze. The fabric leaves a tingling sensation that reminds her of the bells that decorate the Church during Christmas time.

As the folds of linen ripple between her fingers, it’s then she finally feels her mind recenter. The colors around her bloom like the first day of spring, & everything falls into focus. Amy is back. She is real & home & here, in her arms. Slowly, Y/N tepidly wraps her arms around her sister & presses her face into the fabric of her dress. Something hot dribbles down her cheeks, & her silent tears collapse into Amy’s dress. The rust melts off of her joints as she feels her youth soak back into her bones. Her sister, her person, is home.

“I missed you, as well, sister.”

[hopeamarsu]

Hi M! Congrats on the milestone! 🥳 Could I request the following for either Kylo or Clyde?

“Stay away from me?”

and/or

“I trusted you!” / “You were a fool to trust someone like me.”

Maybe some angst or whump? Feel free to use whatever inspires you! 💕

Hi Meg! 💕

Thank you so much!

So... I began thinking which one I wanted to write for and which prompt to use when a devil on my shoulder asked me a simple question. Why not both of them? Why not all of it? So that's what I did.

This is either going to work or fail specularly. Let's see how it goes.

My eternal thank you to Thia, @clydesducktape who really helped me with this, being my sounding board and the bestest beta reader. Thank you 💕

Seeing double

Kylo Ren x reader, Clyde Logan x reader

Rating Mature

Word count 1,9k

Warnings: Angst, whump, attempted murder, implied manslaughter, kidnapping, blood, wounds, time travel (or is it?), hurt/comfort, alternate universes

Summary: Kylo Ren has been betrayed. Clyde Logan finds someone who is hurt.

Your mouth tasted like ash. Ash and desperation.

Gone was the sweet aftertaste of the kiss Kylo had given you when he left your quarters early in the morning. Gone was the tasty bitterness of the kaf you had sipped on your way to your workstation. Gone was the stale air that had been sucked out of your lungs when the stormtroopers barged into your station and hauled you away. 

They’d taken you so efficiently, mostly because you had been so shocked over their audacity. But once your flight or fight -instinct had kicked in, you hadn’t gone down easy. Kicking, screaming, punching, grabbing one blaster out of one of the troopers, you met them head-on. 

Now many of your captors lay strewn across the floor as you panted, the crimson liquid dripping down your curled fingers. Your knees wobbled and you knew it was only a matter of minutes until you’d collapse. Something made your neck prickle, almost like a premonition, and with the strength you didn’t know you had, you turned on your heels to face the door that whooshed open. 

In stepped a creature made of the horrors that only lived deep inside the world of nightmares and trials of fire licked your skin. He was dressed head to toe in black, not an inch of that creamy, pale skin you loved to trace with your fingers visible. His helmet gleamed in the iridescent light and he surveyed the scene in front of him. It was yet another moment that made you hate that helmet with burning passion since it hid Kylo’s eyes from you. 

What was going through his mind when he witnessed the carnage you’d created? Did he have the answers you were desperately trying to find from your own mind as to why this happened? 

You knew he kept it on for a reason since those eyes could never lie to you. Now more than ever though you wished to see them, wished to gaze into their burning darkness and see that your lover, your man was still there and not replaced by this nightmare of a puppet Snoke commanded. But even without the full knowledge, you knew that hope was futile. Because as much as Kylo might be yours temporarily, he was Snoke’s first. 

There was a sick mix of prideful and condescending tone in his modulated voice when he finally filled the silence in the air between you. “I see our training paid off. But I am afraid I did not train you to defeat my soldiers. If I recall correctly, you were once my most prized soldier and I trained you to fight for me, not against me. But I guess it was a ruse from the start, now was it?”

Drip, drip, drip went the crimson line as you folded your free hand to a fist. You would not attack first and he knew it. The unsteady lightsaber held in his seemingly loose hand made sure of that. It wasn’t on yet, no red crackles bursting out of it, nor the steady whir that accompanied them bounced in the air. No, it was eerily quiet and you eyed it with trepidation.

“What do you want Kylo?” 

“I want to know the truth.”

“What truth? I’ve always been truthful to you! I trusted you, so I had no reason to lie about anything!” You cried out quickly, almost able to hide the wince of pain that moving your bruised ribs gave you. 

You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing you were in emotional pain. You knew he could see the physical aftermath even if your dark uniform hid most of it, but the way your heart beat against your chest in agony, screaming against the shards pushing through, that he wouldn’t get to see.

He would not get to hear you say that you loved him, that you adored him, and that you never doubted him. Not even when Kylo doubted himself the most. No, you would not give him that. Not after he’d ordered the attack on you. Because it was clear now that he had ordered this bloody mess. 

To hear he believed you had lied to him cut you so deep you were certain the blood on the metaphorical ground would fill oceans. It didn’t though, because while your heart bled and wept, you didn’t let it show. Your hand, the one not bleeding, still held on to the blaster you’d stolen. It did not shake, it did not tremble. Your chin lifted defiantly, but he beat you to it, speaking again. 

“You were a fool to trust someone like me wouldn’t see it. Fool to think you could outsmart me and I wouldn’t find out.” Your brows knitted together, pulling on the forming bruise on your temple. Kylo wasn’t finished yet though, his large boots clanking on the metal ground when he moved near. Acid pooled in your belly, a nervous sweat beading in the hairline. He scoffed. 

“The only reason why I’m giving you the courtesy of this moment is because of my previous respect for your character. I am giving you this moment to tell me why you did it, why you fed information to the Resistance and if I am satisfied with your answer, you will face a quick death. It will not be painless, but it will be quick.”

The Resistance? He thought you were with the Resistance? Your shock must’ve been evident in your face because the cold laughter boomed from his modulator.

“Don’t hide it. I know. Now, TELL ME!” The metallic floor was illuminated with red. Kylo had activated his lightsaber, the crossguard shape crackling violently. He took his stance, legs wide and saber outstretched and you knew that inside his helmet, his onyx eyes blazed with fury. 

“I am NOT…” it was all you managed to voice out when he attacked, charging at you with speed you’d only witnessed in the battlefield. You braced yourself to defend, hand pulling up the blaster but suddenly it wasn’t red that covered your entire vision, but blinding white that struck like hyperspeed. You found yourself spinning wildly, your ribs protesting loudly and a voiceless scream ripped out of your throat.  

Then everything went black.

Once you came to, it was to the sight of wooden panels from all angles. Something soft was under your back and… was your hand and arm bandaged? As quickly as you could, you sat up, fighting dizziness and nausea the entire time. When your eyes and brain settled, you took stock of what place this was.

It looked like an office, but nothing like the First Order offices you’d grown accustomed to. No, this was warm. It was the only way to describe it. Warm wood panels, warm tones in the upholstery and a large desk that dominated the space. On the desk looked to be an older model mainframe unit. It was in working condition, but definitely not belonging to a high ranking officer since the unit was old and you couldn’t spot a holopad anywhere. 

Did Resistance find you and bring you to their hideout? But you were First Order, why hadn’t they just killed you? Your mind whirring with questions, you began to push yourself to stand. You’d nearly managed it, wobbly knees and aching ribs included, when a door to the office opened and a large man stepped inside. 

He turned to look at you, a neutral expression on his face, but you felt like a thousand pinpricks had entered your body. You swayed on your feet, gasping for air. 

It was the same dark mane, the one you loved to care your fingers through. It were the same lips that you loved to kiss, the same regal nose that used to brush against yours and even the same freckles - a constellation you knew by heart - mocked you on his face. 

The more you looked at him, the more unsettling the image painted in front of you was. It was the same trim waistline, same long legs encased in weird fabric, the same large shoulders, the same everything.   

This was the man you thought had loved you back, the man that attacked you and tried to kill you. The only difference to before was the naked emotion in his eyes. You had never seen Kylo look at you with compassion.

“Ky-Kylo?” You whispered, your throat suddenly parched. Where was his uniform, his weapon? What was this, a cruel trick to placate you until he cut you down? What was going on?

“Terribly sorry, darlin’, but I don’t understand ya. Wha’ is a Kylo?” 

His words were calm and collected. He spoke basic but the accent was unlike you had ever heard in all your travels to distant planets. And his voice was too soft to belong to the man half the galaxy feared. It was the right sound but also so wrong, because he sounded… honest. Kind. Good. 

You were disoriented and it felt unsettling. There were too many questions, too many variables here. Was he saying he wasn’t Kylo Ren? Had the Resistance figured out how to clone people outside of the Kamino facilities? Clearing your throat, you croaked out the next words. “Kylo Ren. Jedikiller.” 

Your lover. 

“Never heard of ‘im. But if he did tha’ ta ya, I’d say ‘e better stay away from Ducktape.” 

Seeing your head cock to the side with confusion for his words, the man stepped forward, nodding towards your injuries. You flinched back, still uncertain if this was a ruse or not. His brown amber eyes - a shade lighter than Kylo’s, you noted - seemed saddened by your actions. 

“Just wan’ ta take a look at the bandage. Ah mean no harm, promise.” 

“St-stay away from me?” Your whispered protest came out weak and more a question than a statement. The man sagged a little, shoulders tight and he nodded. He held out his hands in a placating manner and your eyes honed on the artificial one now on full display. 

Not even caring that it had escaped you when he first entered, you took stock but dismissed it quickly since it didn’t seem that complicated of a hand. It was most likely not one to be used as a weapon, more as an aid. “Who, who are you? Where am I?

“Ma name is Clyde Logan. You are at mah bar, the Ducktape.” 

“No. What planet am I on now?” 

“Planet, darlin’?”

“Yes. What. Planet. Is. This.” You could feel anger shifting in your veins at his hedging. Your arm throbbed and ribs ached but you needed to know it now so you could figure out the next move. Figure out how much time you had before they came looking. Before the First Order came to finish the job they’d started. 

“Earth.” Clyde looked at you quizzically, not seeming to understand the importance of this. 

Earth? Where was that? You blanched, not having heard of a planet named that. You shifted through your mind, panic growing and swirling like a sandstorm on Tatooine desert. 

Where in the Force were you?

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list any time!)

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[toasecretsanta]

A gift for @txny-dragon written and drawn by @plumblossom37​ based on the prompt “Meg meets death (or Death)”

The first time she met death, she was with Nero.

The bright yellow tape surrounded the area where her real father lay with huge slash marks across his gut. They were a deep red colour, matching with the rose that her mother gave to them.

She looked at the body full of horror, disbelief, and guilt. She turned away and sobbed into the purple suit of her father’s murderer; its toxic scent filled her nose. A dark feather flickered in and out of sight on the steps of the New York Public Library.

A change of the light, and it was gone. Swift like the wind.

The second time she met death, she didn’t remember it.

Nero’s imperial household was a palace of toxic. They were forced to train, to kill anyone and anything that their stepfather wanted them to.

It was inevitable.

The third time she met death, it was at the hands of Nero's colleague – Caligula. Only a while before were they all sitting together, eating fish tacos, chilling out on the Santa Barbara shore.

Jason Grace was stabbed twice in the back. She’ll kill him, she’ll kill him-

And her dummy former god nearly faced death, too, because he had the stupid idea of his to stab himself with the talking tree arrow. And all she could do in that cyclone of wind was watch in horror and disbelief.

She faced death countless times in Camp Jupiter. That stinking dead-but-not-really purple skeleton king. Everyone who died in the battle.

And almost that dummy big brother-of-hers-but-not-really, again.

She faced death a lot in those six months. For a daughter of Demeter, who was the goddess of growing plants and stuff, she sure did face a lot of death instead.

Then, she was free.

Nero could cause no more harm. And Apollo rid the world of that big snake, again. So suddenly, she was in charge of her step siblings, and she was back in Aeithales. And Lester was, too. He came by quite often, even when he was all goddy again. She had a feeling that he didn’t really like it up there.

-

The first time she met Death, it was only an accident. Deciding to leave Aeithales for a small while to get away from her step siblings and cool down was a mistake, apparently.

Skipping all the details, she was now faced with this emo-looking guy with large, black, feathery wings. And a tablet. In the middle of Actual Nowhere.

“McCaffrey?” Mr. Emo Bird Guy asked. Warily, she nodded once.

“Hmm.” he tapped some things on that tablet. “Well-”

“Meg!” She heard Apollo's faint voice in the far distance of… nothing.

All of a sudden, she felt her body mending back together, shifting back into place, and then the nothing was replaced with something. She suddenly felt the dry ground underneath her, and squinted open her eyes to see Apollo, with his extremely goddy getup. Ah. That's where the light was coming from.

She lifted her hand to shield her eyes.

“Ugh. too bright.” Meg heard some apologies, then the light faded away. She opened her eyes again, and Lester was there looming over her like a tree in the forest.

“As I was saying,” continued Mr. Emo Bird Guy from the other side, simultaneously giving her whiplash, “it appears that you aren’t on the list.” He looked at Lester. “She’ll be fine this time.”

Lester thanked Mr. Emo Bird Guy, who nodded in response and then disappeared as Lester turned his head back to face her, fussing over her and giving her ambrosia and stuff. Typical dummy Lester.

The second time she met Death, Lester brought him over for both his friends to meet under better, lighter circumstances, or something.

“So!” Lester said. “Thanatos, Meg McCaffrey.” He gestured to Meg. “Meg, Thanatos.” He gestured to Mr. Emo Bird Guy, whose name was apparently Thanatos. They stared at each other for a few moments.

“You’re that Emo Bird Guy from last time?” she asked, crossing her arms. Lester wheezed at the comment (“Emo Bird Guy– Meg, no–”) as Thanatos blinked.

“I… suppose I am,” he said, as Lester laughed even harder in the background. If he continued doubling over any further, she figured he would turn into those koru plants.

“Are you this dummy’s friend?” She jerked a thumb at Lester, who was still busy trying to quell his laughter. (“Give me a second–”)

“Of sorts, yes. We tolerate each other. That idiot stressed the Hades out of me on his trials, however. If I wasn't immortal, he would have taken off a third of my lifespan,” he muttered with exasperation (but Meg could hear fondness in there, too.) She snickered in response.

Oh yeah, she thinks this’ll work out.

[whatiwouldnotgivethots]

megstine prompt from my lovely friend lee who wanted dressing room pussy eating and well,,,,,, their wish is my command.

--

"Christine, your hands are cold."

Meg's voice is soft and trembling as she takes Christine's hands in her own. Holds them against her heart where Christine imagines she can feel the brag of her heart against the skin. It's steadying. There are moments, recently, where Christine wonders if she's going mad. If this is the doom of all women--to be condemned to living life on a knife's edge, perched between brilliance and shunted off to Bedlam. When she's on stage, Christine is flying; when she sings in the sewers to a voice in the darkness, she cannot tell the difference between living and dying.

Dear Meg, Christine thinks, dear Meg with the sweet smile and warm voice. Meg, who Christine could watch dance for hours and never once find fault in the turn out of her knee or droop of an elbow.

Taking her by the elbow, Meg guides Christine into her vanity seat. The vanity itself is laden with tinctures and bobbles--rouges for the lips and cheeks, castor oil for her eyelids; pins and combs for her hair. After Meg unlaces her pointe shoes and sets them aside, she kneels before Christine and removes her shoes. Gentle, guiding hands slipping under her dress and rolling down her stockings one by one. So tender an act done by one so cherished, Christine cannot help but cast her gaze away. Silence fills the space between them like the the gentle waves of a bay, save only for the metronomic ticking of the clock that once was Christine's father's.

"Fair Christine," Meg murmurs, tucking a curl behind her ear. Christine's eyes flutter shut. Her hands itch to reach out and hold the dip of waist beneath Meg's bodice, to press her mouth to Meg's collarbone. It's a longing Christine is familiar with, perhaps since the day she first met Meg and watched her pirouette in stunned admiration. "Won't you help me out of my dress?"

After she nods, Meg smiles once more and turns, moving her pile of curls over her shoulder. Christine unlaces her bodice with ease, knowing its pathway like her own palm. The dress drops to the floor in a puddle of flounce and gossamer fabric, and before Christine can think, Meg is undoing her combinations and taking her stockings down with them. It reveals miles of warm skin, dotted here and there with a mole or two. A shiver races down Christine's spine, pools low in her belly. A kindling flame that smolders before catching.

When Meg faces her again, all greater speech dies in her throat. For there is nothing more beautiful in all of Paris--nay, all of France--more beautiful than the slope of her breasts and the roundness of her belly and the corded muscle of her legs. She feels heat gather in her cheeks, twin to the pink staining Meg's own face if Christine's warm, brown skin was pale like Meg. Cream of the crop, Meg is, Christine thinks. She wants to drink her down at once.

Feeling distinctly overdressed, Christine takes hold of Meg's hips and pulls her close. Places her mouth to her breastbone and traces a soft line up and down her side. Closes her eyes, so all she has to do is focus on Meg rather than herself.

"Won't your mother be in need of you? Practice isn't over for another hour yet," Christine says against her body.

Meg hums, reaching behind to lock the door. "I begged ill to her, but she has a nose like a bloodhound for falsehoods. We ought to make this quick, no matter how I'd like to take my time with you," Meg says, a squirm to her hips when Christine's mouth moves to her breast, kissing it and licking her nipple.

Meg urges her back, and Christine looks at her dazedly. With a smirk, Meg hikes up Christine's costume and straddles her bare leg.

"No drawers, Christine?" she teases, and God, her cunt is already so wet where it presses against her. "Were you expecting me?"

Meg begins grinding against her in hitching little circles, her clit catching on Christine's hipbone. Christine catches her hips and guides her. "If you can still speak, dear one, than we ought to move things along," Christine says. Meg always makes her feel braver than she is. Brave enough to voice any desire she'd been told all girlhood that she was wrong to feel, that should be locked away and kept hidden.

Christine presses her face into the crook of Meg's neck, inhaling deeply the sweetness of her perfume, the heady musk of dried down sweat. Meg wraps her arms around Christine's neck, giving her access to the downy hair of her underarms where the scent is so much stronger. Christine pulls her close, places a hand on the small of Meg's back, and murmurs soft encouragement in her ear as Meg lets out quick, high whimpers.

"Take your pleasure, love," she says, "I'll always give you what you need. Always, dear Meg." The slick on her leg shines in the gaslight of the dressing room, and Meg pants open-mouthed into her throat. While they're both careful to never leave visible marks, it does not make their passion any less all-consuming. There is fire simmering beneath Christine's skin, like she's pushing out of limbs.

Whenever Meg comes, it is earthshaking. She is Galatea come to life: her face gown slack with pleasure, all thought gone from her mind, hair in disarray, and red-flushed down to her navel. Christine can feel the rhythmic clutch of her cunt--the flex, flex, flex of it as she comes and spills over Christine's leg, nails digging into the wings of Christine's shoulders.

As Meg comes down, Christine strokes the long line of her spine, while Meg pants into her shoulder, holding her close. Meg kisses the hinge of her jaw, trails her nose down her jawline, captures Christine in something less of a kiss and entirely untamed and soul-rending. After a while, Christine feels her own body respond to Meg, feels the seat of her dress damp, and spares a fretting thought about whether it'll be visible or not.

Before she can say anything, though, Meg slides to the floor, spreads Christine's legs apart, and insinuates herself there as if she belongs there. And in a way, perhaps she does. With a wicked smirk, Meg yanks Christine forward until she is perched on the edge of the chair, her cunt bared to Meg.

Meg begins with feathersoft kisses to Christine's sensitive inner thighs, delaying the inevitable. Bites tiny, purpling marks and licks them soothingly in apology. Cruelly delighting in Christine's torment. One of Meg's thumbs pets through the pile of curls at the apex of Christine's thighs, slips down to her clit and rubs it in gentle, up and down strokes. Slips it around the edges of her cunt before returning to its home. The first time Meg did so, Christine had nearly sobbed, and she does so again now, covering her mouth to muffle her whimpers. Then, then, Meg puts her clever mouth to Christine's cunt and licks a long stripe up her cunt, circles around her thumb, and dives back down to her hole.

Christine's so wet, she's dripping, smearing across Meg's face and down her chin. Her body jerks up into each swipe of Meg's tongue, completely involuntary, and she trembles with effort to keep upright. With a flourishing swirl around her clit, Meg laps inside her, flickering the tip of her tongue over and over where Christine is aching. Where Meg grasps at her to hold her still, Christine's muscles spill over, and distantly, she wishes Meg would leave her marked with her fingerprints in five equal bruises.

"Meg--" Christine moans, "I can't-- oh--"

Meg looks up at her through heavy-lids, dark-eyed and devouring. She wraps her pretty lips around Christine's clit and sucks, and Christine is gone. She spills with a gush of liquid that makes her glad Meg rid herself of all useless things like clothes. She comes and it quakes up her leaving her head muzzy and pleasantly hazy.

Meg wipes her mouth like a man at a feast, looking altogether too pleased with herself. Unbecoming of a lady but everything Christine craves from her. It is a side of Meg that she lets no one else but Christine see when they lay together like this.

"My hands certainly aren't cold any longer," Christine croaks. Meg dissolves into giggles, and Christine follows, hoping that perhaps the lightness of Meg's laughter will keep the darkness away for a little while longer.

[igarbagecannoteven]

Hey megs! For the 555 prompts: takeover. Mwah have the best day <3

hiya team! i hope you are having a wonderful day <3 you probably don’t remember sending this prompt but here it is! i strayed a bit from the theme but hopefully you will forgive me :))

read it on ao3 or below the cut!

The Spank have the SOS Unpredictable completely surrounded, their various artillery aimed directly at the spaceship’s hull. The Unpredictable’s weapons are all severely damaged from recent battles and with the added fact that they’re running low on fuel, they’ve got a one-in-a-million chance at making it out alive. If they die, the last hope of the Smotherland will die with them and the Sombrero Galaxy will be at the Spank’s mercy. The four-man crew of the SOS Unpredictable gather in the cockpit to talk strategy, but instead they stare out the window at the looming ships that dwarf their beloved spacecraft, a gloom settling over them.

Finally, Calum the co-pilot speaks. “There is always Option H.G.”

Captain Irwin immediately starts shaking his head. “Absolutely not. It’s too risky, and it might not even work.”

“What other option do we have?” their mechanic, Michael, asks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to die yet. Any chance is a good chance right now.”

Ashton frowns. “I’ll only allow it if everyone else is on board with it.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at Luke. He opens his mouth to respond, but at that moment the radio crackles to life. 

“This is a message to the SOS Unpredictable.” The stereotypically nasal voice of an angry Spinky fills the cockpit. “If you do not surrender and submit yourself to the power of the Spank, we will blow you and your ship to smithereens. You have three minutes before we set our blasters to pew. Over and out.”

There’s a hiss of static before the radio cuts off. Luke sets his jaw, his expression a mix of fear and determination. “I vote we commence Operation Heartbreak Girl.”

Ashton’s face is grim. “Then we’d better get to work.”

                    ******************************************************

It takes them nearly two and a half minutes to get everything into position. Ashton takes his position at the helm of the ship and turns on his walkie talkie.

“Alright, everyone in position?”

“Aye aye, captain,” Michael says. 

Calum’s voice is quick to follow. “Ready and waiting.”

“In position, captain,” Luke says.

“On the count of three then.” Ashton’s hands hover over the controls. “In three… two… one…”

It feels as though the whole spaceship is holding its breath.

“GO!”

Down in the belly of the ship, Calum pulls down hard on multiple levers at once. Panels all along the sides of the SOS Unpredictable slide open, revealing giant speakers. Luke pushes a large cassette tape into the ship’s computer system and presses play just as Michael connects a tank of sleeping gas to the ship’s A.C. system. As the beginning chords start to play several decibels louder than is recommended, Ashton punches in a destination and activates autopilot. 

The song starts in earnest, and the wall of sound hits the Spank spaceships like an armored tank. It shatters their weapons and wreaks havoc on their navigational instruments. The volume levels increase until it’s so strong the ships are blasted away from the Unpredictable. 

The crew of the SOS Unpredictable are soundly asleep to protect their brains from being damaged, but the same cannot be said of the Spank. They howl as the Unpredictable shoots through the widening gap between two Spank starships and launches into hyper-speed. Hope for the Smotherland is alive and well.

[arctosv]

Hauntober Prompt 17: Lantern

Light of the Night

The sky slowly changes hues of oranges as the sun sets over the horizon. The passage of time brings on the darkness as a backyard loses its light. Lights flip on outside, illuminating a patio filled with various plants, not cold enough just yet to bring them inside. A door slides open as two figures step out onto the patio, heading over to a table as they drop off various supplies.

“Gav, if you’re cold you need to put on a jacket, you’re not bringing out a blanket just to drag it across the ground and get it all dirty.” Meg explained to him, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

“But that’s what the washer is for, you put the dirty things in and they get all cleaned up. Plus it’s my blanket, not like one of the nice ones.” Gavin insisted as he turned to head back inside and grab his blanket, already having made up his mind.

“Alright yeah, just put it directly in the washer afterwards and don’t drag it around the house.” Meg said aloud, unheard by her companion. Reaching into her bag she pulled out several pieces of paper, some white and translucent while others were black and non see through. She took a sip of her warm orange spiced tea and relaxed as she waited.

Her peace was short lived, being interrupted as Gavin rushed back outside, this time with a blue plaid blanket wrapped around his upper body, Pulling out his chair he plopped down next to Meg. “So, what are we doing again?” He asked with a grin.

"You’d forget where you were born if I didn’t remind you.” Meg joked as she placed some supplies in front of him. “We’re making shadow lanterns, remember? You cut out a shape and place it on this translucent paper, then you connect the four walls together and place a candle in the center. The light will project out shapes like shadow puppets. We’re each doing two walls, that way we’ll have a finished product together.” She explained, making sure he was paying attention so as to not have to explain herself again later on.

“Oh yeah, pretty neat stuff. Just don’t copy my designs and we’ll be good.” Gavin teased as he started working on his cutouts for the lantern. “Mine are going to be scary, cause it’s Halloween and all.”

Meg just rolled her eyes in response, “don’t worry about me copying you, I already had an idea in mind.”

The two worked on their projects, joking and talking as their evening continued on. The once warm tea now cold as they each finished up their cutouts. Putting together the walls of the shadow lantern, Gavin placed a tea light inside, illuminating the outer walls and projecting their designs onto the space around them. One side was filled with stars and a crescent moon, the second side had the silhouette of four cats, the third side was the face of a carved pumpkin, and the fourth side was a spider web.

“Not half bad, don't you think?” Gavin asked as he looked over at Meg with a grin.

AO3 Link

[finishinglinepress]

s

TO ORDER GO TO: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/likeness-by-katrina-roberts/

Katrina Roberts is the author of Underdog; Friendly Fire; The Quick; How Late Desire Looks, and Lace. She edited the anthology Because You Asked: A Book of Answers on the Art & Craft of the Writing Life. Her poems have been included in The Pushcart Prize Anthology, Best American Poetry, The Bread Loaf Anthology of New American Poets, and elsewhere. Her visual erasures and reviews, poetry comics, and graphic pieces appear widely in journals such as BOMB, Brink, Interim, The Ilanot Review, Thrush, American Journal of Poetry, Root & Star, Poetry Northwest, Permafrost, The Journal, and in anthologies including Evergreen: Fairy Tales, Essays, and Fables from the Dark Northwest. She writes and draws in Walla Walla, Washington, where she tends to vines and animals; teaches, and curates the Visiting Writers Reading Series at Whitman College; and co-runs Tytonidae Cellars & the Walla Walla Distilling Company. (Please find more here: www.katrinaroberts.net)

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR LIKENESS by Katrina Roberts

We live in a complicated world—Katrina Roberts, in LIKENESS, knows this, too, and reflects it in the structures she fashions on the page. […] This work will lead you to ask: Will the mirrors remain intact? And if broken, what, then, will be reflected? And isn’t our own house also made of words? And images? Our lives? What does this say about our vulnerability? Is this what makes us all alike?

–Octavio Quintanilla

What curious wilderness might come from allowing the visual to occupy more fully the space of text—lest we’ve forgotten, too, that text is visual? In LIKENESS, Roberts is both auger & answer. At once a prophecy of potential for the flexibility of language & fresh confirmation of the fact of our own imaginations, these poems are unconfined & still razor-sharp in their generosity. I have waited for a collection like this. LIKENESS is a thrilling & necessary addition to our understanding of multiplicity & its joy.

–Meg Day

Oh, all the ways, unseen and unknown, we hold ourselves, project our desires, protect our interiors – captured in the pages of this glorious and magical collection. Hieroglyphic (but entirely legible), alchemical (but in no way esoteric) the drawing/word conversations in LIKENESS are made of the stuff of anyone’s day: here is a hammer, a rabbit, a birdcage…and here we all are, bodied in grief, in yearning, in joy, our dreams bearing forth older, deeper forms of knowing.

–Lia Purpura

I want to use these wonderful meta-fables and homemade fairy tales as poetry prompts. My poem after Katrina Roberts’ [you claim never to have peered into a mirror to see a cannibal?], for example, might involve a soup can or mention the pen & ink quirks of Andy Warhol. LIKENESS is a veritable inspiration engine. Even the table of contents reads like a brilliant cento of poetry. In fact, I doubt Roberts distinguishes writing and drawing: every sumptuous line is a poem.

–Terrance Hayes

If, as Max Ernst said, the art of collage creates “a spark of poetry,” Katrina Roberts’s LIKENESS is an utter explosion of poetry. In these pages, Roberts urgently attempts to solve the mystery of the mortal body through immortal bodies: sketches of sculptures, drawings of paintings, and speech bubbles filled with signs, signifiers, and scribbles. The imagery calls to mind the haunted energy of Bianca Stone or Louise Bourgeois, but the singular vision is all Roberts.

–Kelcey Parker Ervick

What I love best about these delightful creatures is that they show us the humor and tragedy of our own heads: songs of the psyche, in bright and colorful poised solace, carrying and embracing one another. This is a gorgeous and enchanting book.

–Bianca Stone

In LIKENESS, Katrina Roberts’s perceptive eye teaches us image by image, poem by poem, how disparate fragments can be drawn together into a wonderfully strange and beautifully perceptive whole. These poetry comics reinvent the lyric mood and reveal the transformative power of imagery and metaphor. LIKENESS is a pleasure to behold that teaches you, with each passing page, how to see the world with fresh wondering eyes.

–Kathryn Nuernberger

Katrina Roberts‘ LIKENESS is unlike any book or cloud or sorrow or sanctuary or house or stone or garment or forest or revelry or snowstorm or body or star or needle or lullaby I have ever been inside. It is far more beautiful. And far more real.

–Sabrina Orah Mark

Please share/please repost [PROMO]#flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #read #poetrybook #poems

[swhurtcomfort]

Can you do a fic where Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan get stuck overnight on an ice planet and the cold really bothers Anakin, so Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have to take care of him and keep him warm enough so he doesn’t end up with hypothermia.

Obi-Wan coughs. He is lying on his back, unsure of where he is.

His arms and feet and face are tingling, too warm and too cold at the same time.

“Anakin!” he bites out through uncooperative lips. He tries to sit up. Anakin is in trouble, he was supposed to stay awake, and—

“Stay down, General.” Hands pin him to the medical cot.

Stay awake, stay awake.

He doesn’t remember why, but he knows that is important. “Is Anakin…?”

“Skywalker and Tano are right here. They’ll be alright soon, and so will you, sir.” Obi-Wan feels a sharp prick in his arm.

“You’re not Helix,” Obi-Wan mumbles to the medic. Stay awake, damn it, stay…

…

“No, no—shavit!” Anakin growls as the speeder dies and sinks down into the snow below them with a crunch.

Obi-Wan doesn’t reprimand him for such language in front of his padawan. Ahsoka doesn’t even giggle.

Anakin wraps a scarf over his mouth and nose before climbing out and throwing up the speeder’s hood. The fabric of his cloak whips around him like billowing silk, buffeted by the cruel wind driving pellets of snow and ice into his face.

“This is why I wanted the FR model,” Anakin grumbles to himself as he starts pulling wires up from the tangle of hardware. “But oh no, that sleemo just had to rent me this garbage.”

“Yeah, bad news, Master,” Anakin says as he sits back down in the driver’s seat. “We’ve burned right through the main repulsor. These pieces of druk weren’t meant to fly in this kind of weather.”

“I’m afraid comms are offline too,” says Obi-Wan, holding out his dead commlink.

There’s a long, painful silence in which each of them are weighing the various odds. They’re a few hundred miles out from the city, so the dignitaries they are meant to be meeting won’t even notice their lateness for at least a few hours.

And they have no way of calling for help, and practically no visibility in the onslaught of snow. Ahsoka frowns at her master and grandmaster in turn.

“Can you run the heat without the repulsor, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks, imposing an air of calm on the conversation.

Anakin slams the hood down and climbs back into the covered speeder.

He turns the ignition, and the heater whirrs to life.

Ahsoka sees Obi-Wan’s shoulders visibly sink with relief.

“Then we can wait out the storm,” he reasons. “When the snow lets up, we should be able to comm for help.”

…

“Anakin, let’s turn it off for a bit.”

“It’s like Ilum in here,” Anakin whines.

“You said that once on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan scoffs. He turns and leans his head against the leather seat. The first several hours hadn’t been unpleasant, if a bit cramped. The speeder didn’t allow them much space to get away from each other.

The storm rages on outside. The little speeder engine is doing its best, but the heater’s highest setting is only raising the air temperature to bearable at best.

“I did not,” Anakin snaps, rising to the bait. “Geonosis was appropriately temperate.”

“You have a very different definition of temperate from the rest of the universe,” Obi-Wan reminds him.

Anakin shivers, as if to make his point. “I’d rather be there than here.”

“Please, if we don’t ration the battery, it’ll die and the exhaust pipe is going to freeze and suffocate us. Is that what you want?”

Anakin groans.

Ahsoka shifts nervously. Usually their banter is in good fun, but both masters seem like the close quarters and frustration are wearing on their nerves.

“Turn off the heat, Anakin.”

“Five more minutes.”

…

Annoyance turns into fear like a stone dropping into deep water. The whirring of the engine petered to a halt. The speeder’s battery is dead.

Anakin’s eyes go wide. He moves to throw open the door, but Obi-Wan grabs his wrist.

“Anakin,” he says in warning. “You’ll let out the last of the warm air.”

“No,” Anakin whispers. They watch Anakin’s face as he thinks it over. There’s nothing left to run power to the heater. There’s nothing to be done.

“No,” he says again, more softly.

“They’ve got to be looking for us, right Master?” Ahsoka asked Obi-Wan. “We should have shown up hours ago. The Admiral had our itinerary. They’ll find us.”

“No, no, no,” Anakin was repeating to himself. Obi-Wan rubbed his shoulder.

“Ahsoka’s right,” Obi-Wan advised. “We will just have to sit tight. They will find us.”

Anakin clenches his fists on the steering wheel. Anakin knows how to separate the mind from physical discomforts. He can deal with a tremendous amount of pain, hunger thirst, but the cold is something that Anakin simply can’t tolerate. He never has, Jedi training be damned.

The comms are still down, and the bitter onslaught of snow and hail shows no signs of letting up.

There’s a first aid kit under the seat with a fire-resistant blanket. At Obi-Wan’s suggestion, Anakin climbs over the console into the backseat to share it with Ahsoka. The duraplast windows are already starting to fog up. Obi-Wan shoves his hands into his sleeves.

…

“Ughhhhhhh,”

The whiny sound that escapes from Anakin looks like smoke in the frozen air. Ahsoka sighs, and sees her own breath.

Obi-Wan has joined them in the back seat now, sandwiching Anakin between himself and Ahsoka. Being the paler of the two humans, he already has splotches on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. His knuckles are turning red, but he keeps rubbing Anakin’s shoulder. All three of them are pressed up close, sharing body heat. Anakin grumbles some more.

“We’re all cold, Skyguy,” Ahsoka allows the sharp remark to escape her, because she’s achy with the cold and Anakin’s complaining is constant. All three of them are shivering involuntarily.

“It probably won’t be much longer,” said Obi-Wan, placating.

He clenches his teeth to stop them from chattering and continues comforting Anakin, movements slow and steady. Ahsoka has no idea how he’s remained so patient with both of them.

Twilight haze was darkening the hills around them.

…

Night comes, and the heavy clouds block out the moonlight.

Or maybe it’s the layer of snow which has accumulated over the speeder. On some level, Obi-Wan worries that it’s going to bury them alive, but his head’s a little too fuzzy to assess the risk of that happening right now.

Anakin is the first one to stop shivering. His face has turned from bright red to pale and grey. He complains less, but somehow Obi-Wan and Ahsoka wish for the whining back.

Ahsoka’s fingertips are so frozen that it hurts to bend them.

“Gotta be,” Obi-Wan slurs. Ahsoka can’t tell if it’s because his lips are numb, or if he’s getting confused. “Soon, they gotta come soon.”

Ahsoka nods. Obi-Wan suddenly grabs her shoulder and shakes it. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. Everything feels slow, heavy. Sleep sounds warm and inviting.

“Anakin?”

Anakin offers no reply.

“Hey Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbles. “Hey,”

Ahsoka snuggles tighter against Anakin’s body under the blanket. What little warmth they have left is precious.

Anakin finally groans in response to Obi-Wan’s rousing. His breathing is more labored than it should be.

“Stay ‘wake,” Obi-Wan insists. He gives up his corner of the blanket, tucking it around Anakin, who doesn’t seem to notice.

“You stay awake too,” Ahsoka whispers hoarsely.

“I’m worried ‘bout him.”

“Me too,” Ahsoka mumbles through a yawn.

They cannot succumb, they are afraid that help will not come and they might not wake up. They need to keep each other alert. They cannot sleep, no matter the temptation.

The only one who isn’t on board with this plan seems to be Anakin. He has stopped trying to keep his eyes open.

“Stay awake,” Ahsoka and Obi-Wan mumble to each other until the words start to lose their meaning.

“Stay awake.”

They cannot.

…

“You’re not Helix,” she hears Obi-Wan’s voice slurring.

“No, sir,” says the medic, barely pausing his work. Ahsoka’s memories of the medevac ride start to come back to her. She is covered in electric blankets on a medical cot, and the fluids running into her arm through the IV line feel warm.

She manages to lean up on her elbows, and sees her master and grandmaster both passed out on adjacent cots.

“You stay down too, Commander,” the medic tells her. “You’re in luck, you haven’t got any frostbite.”

Stay awake. She remembers that much.

She rolls over to get a better view of Anakin’s cot. Some of the waxy paleness has left his face. But he’s unconscious, which is bad news. They have to stay awake.

“Skyguy? Master Anakin?”

“Let him rest, Commander,” the medic orders. “He seems to have gotten the worst of it. His temperature still hasn’t stabilized, but it’s alright, we’re keeping an eye on him.”

The medic pulls the blankets back up over her shoulder, and it’s weird to feel like she’s being tucked in like a youngling.

“Kenobi is recovering well too. I promise. Go back to sleep.”

Ahsoka doesn’t want to, but her heavy eyelids leave her no choice.

[kentosovertime]

prompt: jjk christmas headcanons + smutty drabble

wc: 2k words

characters: fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, gojo satoru, and nanami kento

cw: explicit and suggestive content, slight angst, fluff, characters are aged up, canon divergent, nothing is sad and no one dies

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays <3 i am back from hiatus! please enjoy some smutty christmas hcs/drabbles (never done this format before, let me know if you like it!) while i get back into writing my normal dark/questionable content

✨Masterlist | Tag List ✨

☆𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕘𝕦𝕞𝕚☆

Megumi didn’t grow up celebrating Christmas as a kid. Between his mother passing, his father abandoning them, and his love/hate relationship with his step-sister when they were younger, he never really saw the point.

Being Gojo’s adoptive son after his father's death definitely didn’t help, the blatant materialism always annoyed the hell out of him, especially when people lumped his birthday in with the holiday due to its proximity

That slowly changed during his time enrolled at jujutsu tech, between yuji obsession with the holiday and nobara’s spending habits he had the holiday practically forced upon him every December

But for the first time he was celebrating it for all the right reasons

And when he met you in college, when he fell in love with you and eventually married you, he finally felt like this time of year had a true purpose…

After all of these years by his side, you were still amused by the pained look on his face as he looked at the sheer size of the crowd. You knew that he only came to the Christmas light show with you because you had been talking about it for weeks.

He takes one look at you and grumbles. “God there are too many people…” Which has you grinning to yourself... you know him too well.

You’re not without your pity though, you pull him to the side to wait for a break in the crowd you could slip into so you could walk through the light show with more personal space. You were mesmerized by the lights, watching intently as they were programmed to sync up with the Christmas tunes that were playing over the speakers.

It takes a few songs, but you notice a break in the crowd passing through, mostly filled with small children with their moms and dads taking their time to stroll through the show. You grab onto his sleeve and start to make your way back to enjoy what you came here to see.

When he doesn’t respond to your tugging towards the opening, you look up at him, noticing his eyes gleaming as his gaze is focused on the families instead of the lights around you.

He must have zoned out. At least that’s what you tell yourself until you get back to the parked car when he proves otherwise.

Once you open the back seat to throw your purse in, you are suddenly herded onto the cold leather of the back seat.

“Megs? What has g-gotten into you?” He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and biting down lightly onto the sweet spot just beneath your ear, before pulling down your pants just enough to get access to your sweet center when he pushes your legs into a press.

“I think it's about time we have a little Fushiguro running around for Christmas next year…” He doesn’t give you a moment to think about his words before he shoving into you, fucking you raw to make his wishes come true. “Can you do that for me, wife?”

☆𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕚 𝕪𝕦𝕛𝕚☆

Like Megumi, Yuji didn’t have a lot of opportunities to celebrate Christmas. Gramps wasn’t exactly a bundle of holiday cheer.

Unlike Megumi, Yuji is obsessed with Christmas and he makes sure everyone is perfectly aware of how far this obsession goes.

He loves making sure everyone special in his life gets the perfect gift, especially you, the light and love of his life.

You always loved the gifts he gave you, but that never really got rid of the pressure of getting you just the right thing

He was thinking about how much you mean to him and how much thought he wanted to show he put into your gift when he came up with the perfect idea...

He feels his cheeks warm at your uncontrolled giggling as you unwrapped yet another box within a box.

“Yujiiii!” You whined kind heartedly, secretly loving the slight prank he had pulled on you. You were on the fifth box within a box before you finally thought you felt something more dense sliding around in the box you had just unwrapped. “Is this the last one?”

He grins, quickly kissing your forehead, leaning over from where he sat next to you on the floor in front of the tree, before hitting you with, “I don’t know… looks like you’ll have to unwrap it to find out.”

You thank whatever god is out there that it was; you were too excited to see what he got you. Last year, he had printed out and made a collage of your couple photos to decorate your new apartment together, the year before that he made you a jar full of 365 reasons he loves and cherishes you, one to open every day for a year. You still had them all, keeping them in the same jar they were gifted to you in.

The homemade collection of paper you pull out has you furrowing your brow as you try to figure out what it is, it looks like a book of some sort.

“Open it up, babe.” He prompts you, his thumb rubs on your brow lightly, getting rid of the crease of confusion as you flip open the first page.

One free thirty minute back massage.

I have to tell you five things I appreciate you for.

Five consecutive orgasms.

All of these were beautifully scrawled in his handwriting, colored and themed to the Christmas season. They were redeemable relationship coupons to give to him at any time for a reward. Your heart warms as you flip through hundreds of handmade coupons, your eye catching one in particular.

You quickly rip it out before he can see which one, straddling his lap and pushing him back onto the floor so you can look down at his shocked face. You take a minute to savor the feeling of his toned body beneath yours, trailing a finger slowly down his chest.

“This one first.” You grin, holding the slip in front of his face to read. “Merry Christmas to me, baby!”

Sit on my face until you squirt.

Yuji groans beneath you, instantly throbbing in his pants. You smell like sugar cookies... he bets you taste like them too.

☆𝕘𝕠𝕛𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦☆

You had spent the entire work holiday party avoiding him, letting out sighs of relief when you managed to avoid his gaze or when he was stopped before he could finish approaching you, something clutched in his large hands you loved so dearly

You didn’t want to stick around long enough to figure it out what it was, you can see the gears turning behind his eyes, a chaotic gleam shining from his gaze

Its not that you weren’t enjoying the recent increase in your time together, but you didn’t want to deal with childish behavior tonight, especially not in front of the higher ups of the jujutsu world

By the end of the night, you had thought you had skated by and were in the clear…

You let out a yelp of surprise when a hand closes around your wrist hauling you into the bathroom, slamming the door closed as your back hits the surface behind you. You feel instinct kick in as you try to free yourself from the grip.

“Baby…” You hear Gojo whine, his pout evident before your gaze even has the opportunity to meet his face. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not…” You’re too distracted by the breath leaving your lungs at the sight of his dazzling smile when the fake pout slips from his features and the feeling of his hips pressed against yours to notice what he’s holding above your head.

“Do you hate me now?”The insistent shaking above you drags your stare to the bundle of mistletoe clasped between the pads of his fingers. “Jus’ wanna let everyone know you’re mine, Y/N…"

“You didn’t hate me when I was balls deep in you this morning…” He coos, satisfied with the small whimpers starting to fall from your soft lips as his hand slips under the waistband of your pants, pushing his fingers past your underwear to sink into you without preamble.

“Maybe this shit doesn’t work…” You watch through half lidded eyes as he tosses the plant behind him, discarding it on the floor as it was no longer useful.

He leans in, pressing his full body against you, caging you fully between him and the door while he continues to lazily thrust his digits into your soaked heat, never quite giving you what you want. “Or maybe a different pair of lips need a kiss.”

☆𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕚 𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕠☆

Ken has always valued his time away from work with you during the holidays, especially with how little he gets to see you the rest of the year between your differing schedules.

He hadn’t failed to notice the way your face fell at the mention of him not coming home another night until well after you’d be asleep.

But you were endlessly patient with him, knowing he was working hard so the two of you could have a good life together.

He would make sure you have a couple weeks off to celebrate your favorite holiday together, going as far as arranging the time off with your boss so he can treat you to a surprise

You’re wrong if you think you’d be relaxing around the apartment for the new year when he has the funds and the time to take you somewhere the two of you can’t be interrupted…

“Take off the blindfold, love.” Kento whispers soothingly in your ear. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold he’d dragged you through before walking you into a toasty room. You hear the door close behind you then feel his diligent hands wipe the snow that had accumulated on your outfit from you.

The fabric of the blindfold’s knot falls away from your grasp as you open your eyes, letting them adjust the the cozy lighting of the room around you. Your eyes immediately fall upon the stone fireplace that was already roaring with a fire, then travel to the walls, seeing that they’re constructed with large wooden logs.

But what takes your breath away is the view outside the picturesque window as night descends upon the snowy mountain Nanami had brought you to. You’re only able to look back at him after the tears start falling from your eyes, your heart heavy with love and gratitude.

“Ken. I- I love it.” You continue to sob lightly, overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness in the plans he laid out. He knows his absence has been difficult for you to deal with. You feel his large hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing lightly along your tear stained cheeks in an attempt to ground you as you continue to babble out your appreciation.

He pulls your face in for a deep kiss you can’t help but moan into. You should feel embarrassed with how needy he made you after one kiss, but you can’t care as you finally get to feel him against you for the first time in weeks.

And you have him to yourself for fourteen whole days.

The promise of all the positions you wanted him to fold you into has you clawing his jacket from his shoulders and ripping his button-down open in one harsh pull. You feel your center clench at the thought of him flipping you around and relentlessly fucking you into the arm of the large leather couch, supporting your body as you collapse in a mind shattering orgasm, coming pretty and dumb for him, just how you know he likes you.

The two of you had plenty of time to go slow later. You need him now and he’s much too happy to oblige with your demands. He’d find exactly the right time to take out the box you had conveniently missed in his jacket pocket that would tie the two of you together forever.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210 @rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @meromelo @firdaoz @saoney [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”