#you would have to be kind of strong for that I think

[chaes-tea]

── // living the nightmare .

// kpop demon hunters fic. // jinu x reader. // a/n: i looped the ost an unhealthy amount of times. i also haven't written anything in a few years LOL. so things might make little sense. or not make sense at all. enjoy! (pls don't flame me too hard i had a vision idk if it visioned) ⚠️!! WARNING: kpop demon hunters spoilers !! + angst

"Jinu!"

He clutches his head and winces, the familiar voice never leaving his head.

The memories– these damn memories that haunt him every second that passes, every step he takes, every breath he breathes. He painfully recalls his sister's sobs, along with his mother's trembling voice as she attempted to comfort her. But he remembers your cries the most.

You. The love of his life. His heart's desire. His soulmate.

He looks at the glowing patterns on his hands. He did it not just for his mother and sister, but for his future, for you. He wanted to give you the world, even if it ended up sounding like a sappy rags to riches story. You deserved so much more than what he could offer.

When he heard Gwi-Ma's voice in his head that day, he thought that this was his chance. A chance for his family to finally be relieved of suffering. The four of you would enter the palace and spend the rest of your lives there. But things took a turn when only he was allowed entry into the palace. He remembers the pain he felt in his heart when the palace doors shut behind him. Even so, he still pressed forward. He would do well in his time in the palace, make money, and send it home.

But Gwi-Ma kept him from doing so. His voice spat excuses after excuses that made him make selfish decisions. Decisions that prevented him from supporting his family. Decisions that kept a sturdy roof over his head, gave him delicious meals every day, and silk sheets every night, all while his family struggled in poverty. The thought of that ate away at him during his time in the palace. The patterns on his skin slowly grew like vines, until it consumed him whole, completely turning him into a demon under the demon king's rule.

The voice in his mind, and the patterns on his body, were constant reminders of his regret, shame, and guilt. They were evidence of his selfish choices– choices that led him to lose his family. This fact has never left him for the past 400 years.

Every few decades, when he would wander the streets of the human realm in search of souls, he would stumble upon a familiar face. The face reminded him of when he first walked through the palace gates alone. He solemnly smiles to himself each time as he observes you. It was nice to see that your iterations always held your kind smile and strong personality, no matter the era or hardships.

He wonders if fate would have allowed him to meet you in every reincarnation, had he stayed human.

He hates how he always thinks about that. He hates his memories of his time as a human, how they always remind him of his betrayal to his loved ones. If hate could defeat Gwi-Ma, the demon king would have been gone long ago.

Now, he sees his service to him as a means to an end. He would get in his good graces, and in exchange for his great deeds to him, he would request for the memories of his past to be erased. A request that would end this 400-year-long nightmare for good.

The Honmoon will be complete soon. Surely, his plan to destroy it will work. That's all Gwi-Ma wants, after all.

He and the other Saja Boys assume human forms and head through the alleyways to the stage they will be performing on. He aimlessly follows the four, rerunning the plan in his head before the performance. A familiar voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"What's exactly is in this 'voice juice' anyways?"

He looks up and sees four people: the first in a black baseball cap, a shorter one with a yellow bucket hat, one holding a box, and–

Oh.

It's you again.

What a cruel thing fate is.

[coolwyous]

┈─★ #1 𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ megan skiendiel loves three things in this world: her amazing brilliant wife, her incredible adorable kids, and the beautiful sport that is ice hockey.

   ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey daddy!megan skiendiel x f!reader

   ➴ genre + wc: 3.3k, domestic parenting au, all fluff no pain baby!

┈─★ a/n: wrote this in 2 hrs bc i missed our big puppy hockey!megan so bad and this put such a cute fucking vision in my head. can def be read as a standalone but if you're new here, i highly encourage reading the college hockey!au verse this is based in! <3

“babe! baby! jesus christ babe, get in here!”

your mind goes to the worst possible places. your son could be choking, he could be having an allergic reaction, he could be stuck in between a piece of furniture, and your perfect angel of a wife could be having a crisis as she tries to figure out what exactly to do in an emergency.

marriage with megan has been an absolute dream, and you always knew she’d make an incredible parent. protective, calm, kind— basics, sure, but megan does them so easily, you never questioned that a family together would be an absolute dream. however, megan is still megan, and you love her for each part of her, including the parts that panic when things do not go according to plan. that’s where you balance each other out: you keep megan in line when she starts to spiral, and she reminds you of the beauty in the day to day.

in this scenario, you’re in panic-mode, racing into the living room expecting the worst.

you let out a gasp to find not only is there no crisis, no furniture on fire, no natural disaster sweeping up your son and wife, but quite the opposite.

megan is reaching her arms out, crouched down, and your infant son is taking his first steps towards her, his chubby face squished up in the cutest smile you could have ever imagined.

“look at this guy! so sturdy,” megan beams, reaching out ready to catch him should he start to wobble.

you laugh and take a mental picture of the moment. you see a mischievous glint to megan’s eyes as she watches his wobbly little body take another step forward.

“megan, i swear if you even think about—”

“i wasn’t gonna say it!” she throws her hands up innocently.

“he just took his first steps,” you chastise her, knowing her well enough after all your years together. “don’t do this. i didn’t start rambling about universities or classic literature when he first said mama.”

“fine,” megan shakes her head in defeat, focusing back on waving to your son to get him to take a few more steps forward. “fine.”

you smile and turn to go hunt down your phone to document the moment. before you’re fully out of the room, you hear a quiet voice whispering to the baby.

“you’re a tank, dude. you’re gonna make a killer defender. get that core strong and we’ll be on the ice in no time.”

“megan skiendiel,” you warn firmly.

“shit. mommy heard us talking about the no-no word.” megan swoops up your son and uses him like a human shield, knowing you can’t stay mad at your two favorite people in the whole world. “okay, okay. i can wait. i get it.”

“i just want one milestone where you’re not trying to prep him for the nhl, i’m begging,” you laugh, reaching out to kiss her. she grins and kisses you back, scooping up your son to hold him between you two.

you can’t even pretend to be mad. you have the most perfect family in the world, what more could someone want?

-

“push left, then push right.”

megan makes skating look so easy, impossibly easy as she always has. when the first snowflake of the season fell, you already knew to get the kids’ winter coats ready, knowing megan would force you all into the car and haul you all to the lake ASAP.

“this is hard,” maxie breathes, his lower lip jutting out in frustration. 

“guess what?” megan tells him, her voice softening as she realizes the emotions taking over your toddler. “it may be hard, but you can do hard things. and you’ll have me holding your hand all the way through.”

your daughter starts to squirm out of your grasp and eagerly reaches for her other mom. you press a kiss into the beautiful baby’s head and hold onto her, knowing your wife needs all her focus in one place right now.

“push left, push right. don’t be afraid to fall,” she nods confidently as you watch from the snow. “you’ve got this, dude. if i didn’t think you could do it, i wouldn’t be pushing you.”

your heart swells as you see your son’s eyes burn with determination at megan’s encouragement. max does exactly that, and he’s shaky, but making slow paces forward. 

megan skates over to you, giving your son some space to figure it out without her over his shoulder. you grin and reach out to kiss her reddened nose, cold to the touch from the chilly falltime air.

“forgot how good of a captain you were,” you compliment, your chest warm and fuzzy seeing how gently but firmly megan builds your son’s confidence. “might want another one just to keep seeing you be that good.”

“another team for me to captain?” megan grins.

you laugh. “no— another kid, loser.”

“oh.” her eyes widen, but that stupid dopey grin only multiplies on her face. “right right right.”

your daughter wiggles once more in your grip and reaches out again. you smile, handing her to megan, who nestles her onto her hip while skating backwards to keep her eyes fixed on your son. 

“look, look!” max calls out loudly, beaming with his precious toothless grin as he glides slowly along the ice.

you look up, ready to cheer him on, but your wife has already got you beat, her face lighting up instantly in pure, sincere, beaming pride.

“that’s my boy! that’s my boy!” she cheers.

megan throws your daughter up into the air and swings her legs around her neck to have the toddler sitting on her shoulders, causing the girl to giggle uncontrollably. max, still wobbly, manages to skid along the ice, his confidence increasing with each pace forward he makes without tipping. you smile at your little family. 

-

“baby,” you call out, peeking at the three on the ice from over the pages of your book. “your daughter is about to do a backflip off of the snowbank.”

“josie, sweetie, sit down please,” megan calls out to her, standing with max as the two practice passing a puck back and forth.

“no thank you,” the girl responds simply.

“okay, no, wait,” megan pauses, wrinkling her nose. “no, princess, it doesn’t work like that. daddy’s words are not an option.”

max pauses, watching the whole thing unfold in front of him. he shrugs and drops his stick, putting his hands on his hips as he innocently observes his sister. “auntie dani says sometimes you just gotta send it.”

“okay, no more time at auntie dani’s,” megan grits. you burst out laughing. 

“i told you she’d be a terrible influence.”

“i didn’t think she’d try to influence a five year old,” megan groans, grabbing josie to snatch her off the snowbank. the girl pouts and wiggles out of your wife’s grip, taking easily to the ice in her skates.

“babe, you know how daniela is,” you laugh. “you’re the only one to blame if you trusted her to be a good influence. i told you lara is more than happy to watch them.”

“lara has enough on her hands with the twins,” megan shakes her head, giving max a push to help him slide across the ice, sending the boy screaming laughing. “josie is a tornado.”

“so you stick her with the most insane person you know and expect it to go well?” you laugh.

“okay, okay, this is not bag on daddy time,” megan scrunches her nose at you, grabbing josie by her hood as the rambunctious child tries once more to climb the snow and jump. “i thought maybe dani could help me understand how to lay the law down more. you never have any problems with them.”

“the kids listen to me ‘cause i mean what i say,” you laugh, watching as megan increasingly fails to wrangle the two children as they go in opposite directions. “unfortunately, big bad strong hockey daddy folds every time your five-year-old gives you the puppy eyes.”

josie’s little voice cuts in, somehow at the top of the snowbank.

again.

“can you send a picture of me up here to auntie dani? i want her to see me send it!”

megan’s eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight.

“my perfect sweet wife, will you grab your daughter, please?” she pleads, nervously holding her arms out in case the girl is too quick and jumps anyways.

you shake your head, pointing behind her as max is aimlessly hitting pucks off in random directions on the ice, pucks you know will never be found again.

“actually, my perfect sweet wife who doesn’t listen or learn, i wanted to do a library date. you’re the one who insisted on taking them to the lake. when you know i still can’t skate,” you remind her.

“oh my god,” megan groans, reaching up to snatch josie by the ankle, causing the little girl to giggle uncontrollably as she gets swung through the air and placed gently back down onto the ice. megan picks up her stick and quickly blocks max from hitting his last few pucks, instead redirecting them all easily back into the small bucket they came in. you watch, impressed. megan has been retired for a year now, shortly after josie turned 4, but she’s still good as ever.

“my thoughts exactly,” you laugh.

“remind me of this exact moment next time i suggest doing this again,” megan blinks.

“babe, this happens every time.” you remind her, flipping through another page in your book. “literally every weekend.”

megan, still impossibly strong, grabs both your kids by the back of their jackets, flipping them both around to face the same direction on the ice. the sound of their rumbling giggles makes your heart flip.

“laps, both of you.” she demands, her voice stern (or about as stern as your goofy, ridiculous megan can get.) “now, minions.”

“no,” josie pushes back challengingly. 

“oh yeah?” megan bends down, pointing a finger menacingly at your daughter. “why? scared you’ll get left in my dust?”

you laugh, watching as your wife takes off on the ice, your two bumbling children skating along after her in an attempt to catch her. your heart melts at the sight. 

-

even at lara and dani’s encouragement, megan had never seen herself as exactly coaching material. several colleges had tried soliciting her to coach for them after her time in the wnhl, and she had turned down each of them in favor of staying home with the kids while you continued to work. you didn’t mind— between what she had made playing professionally, your current job, and the current time she can dedicate to her family now that she’s done traveling, the trade off is well worth it.

but the perfect way to fill her time was coaching your son’s 7 & under junior hockey league. 

“way to take that shot, champ!” your wife cheers as max misses yet another practice shot. “love the confidence, buddy!”

you laugh and hand her the coffee you just picked up for her in the lobby. “you’re being surprisingly patient.”

“no, he’s honestly so, so bad at this, poor guy,” megan lets out a quiet breath, and the both of you laugh. one of the assistant coaches takes over the drills as you two watch the kids from the side. “he’s trying like hell, though.”

“alright, relax coach,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully. 

you both hear a thud against the plexiglass and realize josie, who is supposed to be taking figure skating lessons on the other side of the rink while max’s team practices, is shoulder checking her poor coach into the wall again, much to the woman’s displeasure. you give her a sharp look to cut it out and she instantly straightens up, nodding at you in understanding.

megan gives you a quick look before bursting out into laughter. you know your daughter’s menace-like behavior is nothing to laugh at, but it’s such a sharp contrast to gentle and compliant max, you’re grateful to have such characters for children that keep you and megan on your toes.

“josie’s sick of figure skating, meg” you tell your wife gently, knowing you’re approaching a sensitive topic for her. “she’s been stealing his sticks and messing with his goal in the backyard. i know you’ve seen her.”

megan lets out a nervous sigh. “i was afraid that’d happen.”

when max happened, you saw it be so easy for megan, like being a boy dad was the most thing in the world. she had all the answers, no fears, no concerns. but as much as she loves both your children equally, you know for a fact that josie was different. megan was so, so much more nervous with raising a girl, and while you didn’t feel the same pressure, you knew it kept megan up at night wanting to make sure she did everything just right for your guys’ little princess.

“she wants to be just like you, meg,” you tell her gently as you both watch the girl roll her eyes at the coach and do another twirl. “she pays attention, talks about your teams, wants to watch your old games. she’s so eager to be part of that world, and you keep brushing her off.”

megan shakes her head, clearly wanting to pivot away from the topic. “mrs. baker called again today. she’s worried about her reading.”

you sigh. mrs. baker, josie’s kindergarten teacher. 

“i remember how the first meeting went, megan. i was there, remember?” you laugh, rubbing her arm soothingly. “josie’s still got time to figure it out before they go on diagnosing anything. she’s barely 5. give her time. you sound more worried than her teacher did.”

megan’s knits her brows, avoiding your gaze as she watches both kids on the ice. 

“i don’t want her to distract herself with hockey if she’s already at risk of falling behind in school.”

“meg,” you soften your voice, leaning you weight against hers. “it’ll be okay. let her try, we can support her. she won’t fall behind.”

“i don’t want her to beat herself up.” her voice drops into a rasp as you see her swallow down nervously. “i don’t want her to feel stupid.”

your heart aches thinking about baby megan, all those years beating herself up over struggles that were never her fault. you see how anxiously she projects forward, wanting so desperately to spare your guys’ daughter from the same fate, the same self-consciousness, the same lack of confidence.

“she won’t. give her a chance. she might thrive,” you reassure her. “having something she’s that passionate about might make her motivated to work harder.”

megan nods, pressing a kiss into your head. you feel her body relax against yours as you two lean together, watching the practices go on. “you’re right. i’m overthinking it.”

“she might be the next you,” you smile.

before you can say anything else, megan is motioning for the figure skating coach to pause, waving for your daughter to come over to where you guys are standing. 

“max, come here,” she calls out, leaning down on the wall to be eye-to-eye with your kids as they both skate over, their eyes wide in confusion. “josie, go borrow your brother’s gear.”

“are you benching me?” maxie asks anxiously. 

“would you rather go get a new book and hot cocoa with your mom?” megan asks, her voice soft, her eyes scanning over your son’s face as she chooses her words carefully. “would you rather not come back to practice?”

“i like hockey,” max says quickly, almost too quickly. your heart aches. you see megan in him too— nervous, kind-hearted, eager to be good, not wanting to hurt anyone.

“but do you love it?” megan pries gently, taking one of his hands in hers to comfort him.

“i would rather be reading, yeah,” max admits, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

megan is quick to take his chin gently in her fingers and lift his gaze back up to hers. “hey, hey, that’s okay. were you afraid to hurt my feelings by telling me that?”

“yes,” he admits sheepishly. 

“thank you for being kind, but thank you even more for being brave and telling me the truth,” she pulls his helmet off of his head and presses a kiss into the top of his sweaty hair. “go with your mom. i love you so, so much. you’re the coolest kid.”

the boy complies, coming off the ice and taking off his gear, handing each piece to his younger sister. “i was scared you’d be mad at me.”

you see megan’s face wrinkle in concern. she shakes her head, reaching down to give the little boy a tight, comforting hug.

“never ever. i love you with my whole heart. i can’t wait to buy you all the books in the world, dude,” she reassures him, nodding. “go give your sister your gear. your mom is waiting.”

you smile and reach out to your son, handing him his hoodie. he swipes it up eagerly and takes your hand, beaming excitedly.

“i heard you’ve been practicing on your own,” megan says as she kneels down, focusing now on helping josie put on all the gear. it’s a size too big, but it’ll do. “you ready to show me what you can do?”

“really?” josie’s eyes light up.

“these boys are bigger than you are,” megan warns, but she doesn’t sound worried. she sounds eager, proud. “think you can keep up?”

“yes,” the girl nods eagerly. 

“go show off,” she encourages, giving josie a push on the ice to send her towards the practice. “but no backflips! you’ll give me a heart attack.”

“boring,” she gripes, skating off. 

you can’t help but laugh. 

“she’s going to kill me,” megan groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

you poke her in the cheek, letting max rest on the bench for a moment. 

“she’s karma for every single time you lashed out at one of your teammates. remember senior year?”

“yeah. alright, alright,” megan waves you off, rolling her eyes, but she pulls you in to give you a quick peck. you both watch as she boldly joins the drill as if she’s been doing it for years, quickly handling the stick and the puck with a confidence unmatched by most of the boys on the team.

“she’s a natural,” you beam proudly.

megan lets out a low whistle. “better than i was my first time on the ice.”

“i’ve always said she’s just a less anxious version of you,” you smile. “right down to the puppy dog eyes.”

megan grins back, wrapping an arm around your waist. “you love these puppy dog eyes.”

you look into those puppy dog eyes, the things that drew you in when you first met her, and the things you’re pretty sure were the first part of megan that you fell in love with, before the rest of her fell right into place inside your heart.

“being just like you won’t be the worst thing in the world, meg,” you tell her gently, you both watching as josie blasts past the other boys on the ice, handling the puck with unimaginable expertise. 

“at least college is paid for,” megan wrinkles her nose, letting out a sigh. “who knows. maybe some sucker will get roped into giving her their english class notes.”

“and then they fall in love with each other and become college sweethearts. and survive long distance, and get married. and have a super cute family with two kids and a crusty white dog,” you add on, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her into a hug. 

“i got super lucky,” megan breathes, finally turning to look down at you.

“yes you did,” you grin back up at her. 

“i love you,” she tells you, kissing your forehead tenderly.

you admire her perfect face, looking back at your perfect daughter and your perfect son. your perfect little family, something you could have never pictured when you first met megan in your british literature class all those years ago.

you smile, reaching up for one more kiss.

“ditto.”

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

A Double Negative

Snotlout Jorgenson X Reader

Summary- Engaged to Snotlout, you're fed up with his flirting. You decide to get back at him with his own medicine.

Warnings- Sweet ending, axe swinging lol, fluff, minor angst

A/N- Well this is so awkward... I have like zero excuses. I just saw the HTTYD Live action and I knew I had to lock in. I present to ya'll my first fic in like 6 months....... :D

Word Count- 1,777

"I'm going to kill him." You say, roughly yanking an axe off of a nearby stand. If you weren't so angry, it might have made you lose balance by the sheer size. Your inexperience with weapons made you less intimidating, but every man on Berk knew not to mess with an enraged woman.

Adrenaline drove you.

Astrid followed you close, trying to calm you down from your previous conversation.

"I just don't get it, he always says that I am the only one for him. That he loves me. But there he is, running his mouth with some other girl. I don't think he realizes that no other girl would put up with his crap." Just venting to Astrid made your blood boil.

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?" She reasoned, knowing that deep down you did love him, and wanted peace.

"Why should I! Isn't it obvious that you shouldn't flirt with other girls while you're engaged!" You were increasingly frustrated, popping your knuckles to ease some kind of tension.

She sighed and threw herself back onto her bed. Neither of you planned that your sleepover would turn into a therapy sesh. "Men are stupid. We even have to tell them when they are being stupid. That's how stupid they are."

You contemplated her words, "And if Hiccup was flirting with another girl?" You queried.

"I'd gouge his eyes out so he couldn't even look at another." She said, calm as ever. Though, it was true that Hiccup would rather die than make Astrid feel that way.

Defeated, you puffed out a frustrated gust of air. "Maybe I should just talk to him..." Astrid laughed at the contrast. Your emotions ran wild, regretfully doubting him. You beat yourself up on the fact you thought him disloyal.

"I think that's a great idea." She said, getting comfortable in her pillow, hoping the conversation would end. That way the two of you could do something more fun or relaxing.

As much as you wanted to move on, your gaze didn't leave the ground. Astrid shot you an understanding look. "You can go now..." You looked up.

"Astrid we've been planning this night for weeks! I'm not going to leave you over some petty feelings." Astrid would love to argue how your feelings were valid, and not petty. But she was too busy ushering you out the door.

"Look, after- you can come right back over. We will have more fun when your conscience is clean." She desperately wanted this to be over with, for her best friend to be at ease.

You knew she was right. Still, she made her way with you to the mead hall, where most of the men were bound to be eating.

Just as you walked in, you located Snotlout. With a freshly dropped face and cold eyes, you watched him. He was sat next to a girl you'd seen around. She was the complete opposite of you. She was visibly strong, taller than Snotlout, and loud.

He had his head thrown back in laughter, the very laugh you loved to hear. The laugh that was only reserved for you. His real laugh that only came out when talking about your future, dragon riding, or joking about Hiccup's leg.

That laugh was for you. No one else. Definitely not this random girl.

"I'm going to kill him."

The next thing you know, you are running across the hall to him. Axe raised above your head. You weren't aware if you were screaming or not, but the looks people gave you implied you were.

"SNOTLOUT!" The girl quickly jumped out of the way, but Snotlout was caught off guard by your voice.

He let out a yelp, quickly throwing himself to the ground. "ARE YOU CRAZY?" He screams back at you.

"Only because you've made me so!" You swing again, narrowly missing his ear. A shred of his hair was caught in the crossfire.

His voice raised a few octaves at your shrew rage. "What is your problem!" He was too worried about you to care about his voice cracking.

"YOU are my problem!" Onlookers knew better than to interfere with your relationship.

"Woah, woah, what did I do?" He tried to grab the axe from you, but risked losing a finger.

You thought about not responding, but stopped swinging to catch your breath. "What haven't you done? Or better yet, WHO haven't you done?"

His demeanor changed immediately, swiftly wrestling the axe from your grasp. "We need to take this outside."

You glanced back at Astrid, who held an all-too-proud look. She nodded with crossed arms.

"Gladly." He went to put his hand on your back, like he typically would when guiding you somewhere. You stopped him, slapping his hand away before walking ahead of him.

As the two of you briskly walked out, you pulled off your engagement ring. "Does this mean nothing to you?" You whisper-yelled at him, shoving the item you held dear, in his face.

He grabbed onto your hand that held out the ring. “What’s gotten into you! If it meant nothing I wouldn't have given it to you.”

You were no longer concerned with where you were going, focusing on your reasoning. “If you’d prefer to stay ‘available’, then you should call off the wedding. It would save me the heartbreak.”

“You are so dramatic!” He threw his hands up, frustrated. “Its just being nice! They mean nothing to me!”

Stopping in your tracks you slowly turn to look at him. "I see how it is." You fake a smile, an idea striking you. His face grows regretful and disturbed.

"Have a great night Snotlout." You leave him confused and alone in the darkness.

The next morning Snotlout was praying that you would have slept off whatever was making you cranky. He had no idea what he was going to walk into...

He, like every morning, confidently strutted into the mead hall. Though, what stopped him straight in his tracks was you.

Typically, you'd wait for him. Always taking your seat by his side, everyone knew of the engagement. Everyone knew for you acted and proclaimed it out proudly. Though, today was different.

You laughed at someone. No, with someone. Now, that usually wouldn't be a problem. But you weren't just laughing.

You were sat next to some dragon trainee. Snotlout had seen him around the training grounds, he had helped care for the dragons while their riders were gone.

The man played no real physical threat to Snotlout. He knew that, but seeing you gently rest your hand on his shoulder. One hand covering your growing laughter. Leaning over him when reaching for the pitcher of water. It was all too much.

Sure, he was smaller than Snotlout. Weaker. Naive. Inexperienced...... More handsome? Funnier? Smarter?

He stormed over, slamming his fist down onto the table. The small man jumped at the sound, intimidated. But you paid no mind.

"Good morning Snotlout, when did you get here?" You mindlessly fiddled with your engagement ring. His eyes were locked on it.

"Not important. We need to talk." His tone suggested he was not asking.

You smiled at him, "Can you give me a moment, it would be rude to leave my friend so quick." Truthfully, the conversation was dull, he was nothing like your beloved fiancé. You were just desperate to prove your point.

"Now." He said, fist hitting the table once more. The poor dragon aid was paralyzed with fear.

Your head snapped in his direction, eyes piercing. "Excuse me?"

He stared back for a moment, but then backed down with a sigh. "Please?"

You smirked at that. "Of course."

He doesn't try to guide you with his hand this time, it saddened you more then you thought it would.

With a newfound cocky attitude, you ask "So, where are you taking us?"

"Just stop, okay." He halts on the pathway.

"I've no clue what you're talking about." You reply.

He steps forward, gently grabbing your hands in his. He looks you in the eyes, his filled with sorrow. "You've proved your point. You can quit the act, okay?" His tone is pleading.

You nod, his plea touching your heart faster than it should have. "...Can we take a walk to the shore?"

"Anything you want." He was dead serious, he might have given anything up- just to have the normal you.

The walk was silent, shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing. It was nervous, like a first date.

Once you reached the water, you sat down onto the sand. Fidgeting with it at your side. Snotlout joined you.

"It didn't take long..." You started light heartedly.

"Is that how you feel?" His gaze looked out onto the water.

"Hm?"

"When I saw you with him... I mean, I know you'd never betray me like that but I..." He licked his lips. "It feels awful." His face scrunched up, a hand hitting his chest.

You took a deep inhale of courage. "Every time... Every time I see you even look at another woman, my heart jumps. I- Snotlout, I don't think you'd actually... Y'know... but it still hurts." You shifted, turning to look at him.

"I just don't understand, why you would need to flirt. I mean, am I not enough?" You were finally able to breathe out your deepest fear.

Snotlout lowered his head into his hands, disappointed and upset. But not at you, never at you.

"I'm so sorry. This is my fault, I've been so amazingly stupid." You let out a chuckle at his words, remembering what Astrid had said.

"I swear it, I swear I won't even talk to another woman if it's your will." He pulled you closer to him, conveying how serious he was.

"Snotlout-"

"No, please just listen." He lifts up your right hand, pressing your palms together. "I should have never let you feel a shred of doubt for my love. I know I am the last person to deserve you, and if it will truly make you happier- I would break the engagement off. But there is no part of me that doesn't want to marry you, and have you for the rest of my life. Just as you already have me."

"Are you done?" You lightly laughed out. His eyes looked glossy, a slow nod erupting.

You said nothing, just pressing forward to feel his lips on yours. It was a familiar action, but just as intimate as the first time they touched.

"You're so stubborn."

"Says the woman who ran at me with an axe.

"That was well deserved."

"Yeah... it was wasn't it?"

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | extra ☆

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rafe has a solo session in his room thinking of you 18+ // mdni

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 2 0 | C H . 2 1 ->

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ EXPLICIT content (18+ MDNI), smut, strong language, male masturbation, needy!rafe, slight possessiveness, imagined scenarios [oral & handjob (m receiving), inexperienced / kinda soft dom reader], hints at praise kink & sub!rafe, reader implied but not present, viewing her from slightly sexualized to pure yearning, post nut clarity hitting this boy hard (me too after writing this lmfao)

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.3k

✿ A / N ✿ kinda wanted to drop this without saying anything bc EMBARRASSING but yeah. that's like my 3rd smut fic in my whole life so hahahhaha and i only proofread like twice so maybe this is complete nonsense and i feel fucking weird for making my smut fics so long and detailed help. ok. haha. enjoy. feel like i ruined kms!rafe with this BUT WELP, too late now. if you feel comfortable, lmk what you think (comment or ask idc) <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

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As soon as the front door of Tannyhill shut behind him, Rafe went straight upstairs. The faint sound of some awful drama series coming from the living room—probably Rose staying up late, sipping on her third glass of wine (sure, yeah, of course, what fucking else was his dad’s wine cellar for if not that).

Whatever.

He didn’t care about saying hi to that bitch. As long as Rafe could avoid her, he would.

Completely wrecked from this crazy-ass day, he let the door to his room fall shut behind him, letting out a heavy exhale. Keys, phone, and wallet landed on his nightstand with a dull thud, the silence in his room almost immediately suffocating him without any kind of background noise around.

No annoying people arguing about annoying shit. No shitty movie blasting in the background. No soft giggles or amused scoffs, no teasing chuckles or dumbass jokes. No laughter. No soft jingle of a bracelet.

No one here to fill this gut-wrenching silence that felt like a deep low after a coke-induced high.

Fuck.

He’d said goodbye to you what, ten, maybe twenty minutes before ordering a shitty Uber to get home (the same old lady driving as earlier), and he already wished your presence back.

You’d offered to drive him home but he’d seen the sleepiness in your pretty half-lidded eyes. Shit, Rafe was dead tired himself, and still, he could’ve spent the whole damn night with you awake, driving around, letting you babble about shit that excited you, and just enjoy you being there with him.

He’d even joked about you coming home with him to continue your bonding session over here (no sketchy intentions, alright), but you’d just laughed in that sweet way of yours and rolled your eyes, hugging him goodbye, not realizing that—yeah—Rafe had meant it.

Whatever he’d felt with you on that shitty lounge bed tonight... he didn’t even have the words. It had felt like the best parts of weed and coke combined—deep relaxation, and yet, such a rush of euphoria and energy.

Your warm body pressed against his, your sweet scent lingering between you, the way your hand had rested on his stomach, your head on his chest. The way you’d kept glancing up at him with that cheeky smile of yours while rambling about something.

The fact you’d chosen to stay with him. Twice.

Twice, you’d made the decision to stay, and twice, Rafe had felt like he’d won the damn jackpot. And then, a third time, you’d picked him out of everyone else to spend the rest of the night with.

And now that warmth of your body was gone, your perfume left behind at your place, your head now resting on a pillow instead of his chest.

Shit. Rafe wanted you back.

He didn’t even fight the feeling, that pull. Why the fuck should he? He liked you. Being around you felt good. Feeling you close felt good.

Shit, it felt right.

And now he wished he hadn’t turned his desire for you to stay over into a joke but instead voiced it like an actual invitation.

Fuck. But that would’ve been so fucking pathetic and embarrassing, and you’d probably think he just wanted to hook up with you, or worse, that he was some kind of loser who couldn't be alone. Especially after he’d begged you not to leave him during that argument in the parking lot.

Thing was, he didn’t even need you curled up against him. Just... just be there. Lying next to him. Hearing the sound of your breathing as you slept a few inches away, feeling how the blanket rose and fell with every inhale.

Just feel your presence. Knowing you were there. Maybe, one more time, hearing you say that you’d work things out with him. That you’d figure shit out together.

That you wouldn't leave.

Shit, seriously, though, what the fuck was up with him that he was so needy all of a sudden?

Ugh, he was too tired to even question it.

Rafe let out a heavy breath, ran a hand through his hair, and undressed. Polo and shorts tossed onto the desk chair, socks on the floor. Too tired to even brush his teeth or wash his face, let alone take a shower. He'd do that shit tomorrow morning.

So, he just slipped under the blanket big enough for two, and leaned back against the bed, resting his head against the frame.

This fucking day had drained everything out of him.

Nah, psycho bitch Ruthie had.

Shit. Eugh. Fuck, no. He didn’t want to waste a single more thought on this crazy bitch.

So, maybe he could... nah, that was crazy.

But the sudden urge to call you hit him hard. Just hear your voice, your giggle, maybe even see your pretty face and smile on FaceTime one last time before falling asleep, and--Fuck.

The thought of you picking up, lying in bed in some cute little pajamas, braless underneath... shit, maybe you even slept naked—who the fuck knew—didn’t even matter.

Because, now that the image was in his mind, right now, he didn’t just want to hear or see you.

He needed to feel you.

Your body against his, clinging to him like earlier, spending him warmth and comfort as you were pressed against him in whatever clothes you'd decided to sleep in.

Or not sleep in.

Fucking shit. Rafe could already feel his blood rushing downward again.

And then, the image of your dress riding up your thighs earlier popped up in his head. The way it had revealed that soft skin underneath, the way your knee had found his when you were pressed close, and by God—your tits.

The way they’d pressed against the side of his chest while you were babbling about something he couldn’t even remember anymore, some shit about how to handle the Ruthie situation or whatever, and—

Too late.

His cock had already finished the thought, now pressing tightly against his boxers.

Fuck.

You'd made him hard again. For the second fucking time tonight.

But before he could second-guess or talk himself down from this sudden wave of need, he shifted downward into a more comfortable position, buried his head in the upper half of his pillow, and pushed his boxers down past his ankles.

Shit, what, he didn’t even need the lube in his nightstand—precum already gathered at the tip of his hardened length, the tension of today catching up to him. The need right there.

The moonlight cast soft shadows over his abs through the large windows behind him as Rafe spread his legs slightly, shifting them upward a little while he threw off that fuckass annoying blanket in frustration. One hand came to rest on his bare thigh, while the other wrapped around his already throbbing member.

Okay, fuck it.

As he closed his eyes, he let his head fall back against the pillow, letting out a deep tensed breath, and began moving his hand—slowly, instinctively—stroking up and down, spreading the already collected fluid over his tip and along his length for better glide.

His mind jumped from one image to the next, trying to find some kind of girl he could think of, some hot chick he'd already had beneath him, or hell, shit, maybe even fucking Megan Fox in that Transformers movie.

Yeah. Yeah, why not. The way she'd looked in that way too tight jeans shorts, bending over one car, and--

Shit.

You.

Without warning, his entire mind flooded with images of you, washing away every image or hint of any other girl. Instead, a kaleidoscope with snippets of you flashed in his head.

Your pretty face, those beautiful eyes, your addictive smile, and god—those lips he’d stared at way too often today.

Shit.

He could only wonder how those same lips might feel wrapped around his length. Warm and wet, those pretty eyes looking up at him, shy and embarrassed, probably wondering if you were doing a good job, eyes widening a little as you slowly took all of him in.

Fuck.

Rafe had to bite down on his lip to stifle a groan, his breathing now shallow, movements more deliberate.

Shit, just the thought of you trying to get him off, sitting all awkward in front of him, unsure of what to do, how to even place your hand. And how sheepishly you’d chuckle, face flushed, eyes wide and uncertain as your fingers hesitantly wrapped around his hardened length, softly stroking up and down, nervously asking things like, “Am I doing it right?” or “Like this?” and fuuck, yeah—Yeah! Exactly like that.

This time, Rafe couldn’t hold back the quiet groan that escaped his lips as he kept moving his hand, hips twitching upward for a second, his rhythm now quicker.

Fuck, honestly? Just the idea of you touching him in any way made his heart race like crazy. Not just sexually, shit no, it felt like, with you, Rafe craved a deeper kind of touch.

And tonight—you clinging to him like that on the lounge bed, all cozied up to him—that had awakened this crazy kind of longing. This insanely deep feeling in his chest Rafe didn't even know existed.

Shit, he didn’t even know, he just—

He just wanted to sink into you. Bury his face in your neck and forget everything else. Wanted you to hold him like that forever. Stroke his hair. Tell him he didn’t have to be anything but this.

So, a different kind of scene appeared in his head.

Your hands on his biceps as you sat on his lap (clothed or not, he couldn’t care less), legs resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers traced over his collarbone, drifting down his chest and abs, brushing gently over his skin as a warm laugh slipped from your lips. Your breath ghosting across the skin of his shoulder as Rafe pulled you closer by the waist, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, breathing in that goddamn addicting scent of yours, head buried in the crook of your neck while your arms slung over his shoulders.

A quiet whimper left Rafe's lips at the thought of you hugging him close like that, soft fingers brushing over the bruise on his cheek, carefully and gently, and how you'd kiss the very same spot afterward, once, twice, twenty times, whispering that everything was okay.

Sliding your fingers through his hair as you told him once more that everything was fine, that you were there for him, that he wasn't alone in this new fucked up situation. That you were staying no matter what, no matter how much he'd fuck up.

That he was good despite how many things seemed to be wrong with him.

Shit.

Another low groan slipped out, Rafe's hand now desperate and more deliberate, slowly massaging the tip of his cock as his breathing came in shallow gasps, his mind hazy as the slick sound of his movements faded into the background.

“Shiit.”

He was so fucking close.

And then. His mind went back to the image of your hand around his length. You sitting between his legs on this bed, warm hand slowly working him, loving and gentle, your pretty eyes watching him watch you, lips swollen from how hard you’d been biting them out of nervousness and awkwardness, letting out soft, embarrassed giggles as he begged you to keep going.

And all the while your hand kept moving—up and down, sweet and gentle—that little bracelet around your wrist would jingle, those tiny metallic charms clinking together softly. A quiet reminder to anyone that you were Rafe’s girl--!

Friend.

That he was the one who'd given you that bracelet. That he was the one you'd chosen to lay with tonight, cozy up to, and press your body against.

Him.

Rafe.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. And then another quiet groan left his lips as he thought about every time you’d said his name tonight in that sweet voice of yours. And each time, he'd felt his heart skip a beat when those four letters had left your mouth as if his name purely existed to be called by you.

Shiiit.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle a moan, legs tensing while the build-up threatened to tear him apart. But somehow he couldn’t push himself over the edge.

Why the fuck was he holding back? Why the fuck couldn’t he just— Why did he feel so fucking ashamed of getting off, no, shit—finishing to the image of you?

Fuck.

God, this felt so wrong. So horribly wrong and twisted. And yet—fuck, his head was filled with you and your stupidly pretty face, that sweet smile and teasing glimmer in your eyes, and Rafe couldn’t stop. He ached for this.

For your body, your face, eyes, smile, laugh.

You.

His toes curled as he pushed his head back deep into the pillow with a quiet whimper, breathing so uneven, fingers slick, just trying to relieve this pressure that you had caused.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as low and quiet as he was capable of, trying hard not to make a sound that might carry through the walls, his other hand digging harshly into his thigh.

And then his mind went back to earlier.

Your upper body—your boobs—pressed up against his side as you looked at him, all sheepish and smiley. Face so close. Lips right there.

He could’ve just leaned in—just a little—or, fuck it, let his hand slip to your neck, thumb grazing your jaw as he pulled you toward him, giving in to the need to feel you close. Lips barely brushing yours, aching for the shape of your mouth, your taste.

Another whimper slipped past him as he thought of the surprised giggle you'd make when your chest pressed flush against his while he pulled you closer at the waist.

God, and the way your hands would clutch to his polo, a sweet and shy chuckle spilling into the kiss while his hands would find your butt to heave you onto him, your his bracelet jingling around your wrist in that movement.

And now, you fully seated on his lap, butt pressed on his crotch while you leaned forward, soft hands finding his cheeks as you pressed gentle kisses on his jaw, cheek, lips, and—

His hips jerked, legs tensing as a low, groaning “Fuuck” escaped his mouth, face twisted with release as it rushed right through him.

Warm seed spilled onto his lower stomach while his hand worked out every last bit of this insane climax. His cock twitched as his thigh muscles clenched, deliberately trying to massage the last bit of release out of him.

Finally, Rafe let out a heavy exhale, his clean hand going through his sweaty hair, the other slipping from his length and falling to the mattress as his length slowly softened against his stomach, twitching one last time.

Shit. He hadn’t even lasted five minutes.

And then, it hit him.

Almost instantly, shame and guilt crashed over him like a dark, heavy suffocating wave. As fast as the high had come, it had also faded just as quickly, replaced by a sick twisting feeling in his gut. Now all he felt was hollow. Gross. Like he’d crossed some invisible line.

Rafe just lay there, chest rising and falling, one hand sticky, his heart pounding like crazy—but for all the wrong reasons now.

The fact that he’d actually used you to get off—his new friend—to relieve this awful pressure.

Fuck.

Those images while being around you were already overwhelming, but doing this to those thoughts?

It just felt wrong. Shit, no, fucked up.

Yeah. Fucking great. Post-nut clarity hit him like a fucking truck.

And the worst part?

That pressure Rafe had believed to be just sexual tension—just pent-up frustration from not hooking up with some chick in a while—it hadn’t lifted at all.

Yeah, sure, great, the physical tension might’ve been gone for a little while now. But everything else?

That pull toward you. That need to be close to you. That aching desire to have you back against his body, hugging him close like there was no one else you'd rather be with than him.

Still very much fucking there.

And truth be told, even worse than before.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 2 0 | C H . 2 1 ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[simplyhansel]

So I just finished my second watch of k-pop demon hunters

And I have a theory. I saw someone point out that the Saja Boys names are based on who they are: Abs is muscular, Mystery is mysterious, Baby is youthful, Romance is a chick magnet, and Jinu's name means "true"

But I don't think their names JUST represent what they are. I think it represents what turned them into a demon in the first place. As Jinu puts it, their shame. First things first: I think there are two types of demons. Demons born in the demon world, and demons that used to be humans.

Outside of the Saja boys, we can see a few other demons in the background who have very similar outfits, most notably the hats. These are the demons that were once human, turned into demons by Gwi-Ma. The other demons with more exaggerated features were born in the demon world.

Starting with Abs. Strength, muscles, looking manly; that's his schtick. There are a few ways he can go. 1) it's possible that he wanted to be stronger to protect someone he loved, but I don't think that is the case. 2) Abby was weak and being weak made his life worse "you are weak, no one will ever respect you. but I can make you strong." this, or some variation of it, is the one I think is most likely. 3) Abs was born appearing very fem (transgender or genetics, take your pick) and Gwi-Ma made him manly and muscular.

up next, we have Mystery. He kind of stumped me at first (which is honestly kind of fitting tbh) but then I rewatched the scene where Jinu pitched the band to Gwi-Ma. during the small transition scene, we see slight shifts in Romance, Mystery, and Baby. Of all the boys though, Mystery's is the most interesting.

Mystery is the only one of them to have exaggerated demonic features, specifically his teeth. I believe that Mystery is half human, half demon, just like Rumi. "but Han!" I hear you say, "Jinu was surprised that a human had demon blood!" but to that I say; no he wasn't. He was surprised that a HUNTER had demon blood. he says specifically "A hunter who is part demon?" This implies, however loosely, that half demon/half human hybrids aren't unheard of. Mystery was ashamed of his heritage, wanted to hide it, be free from the scrutiny. I also think this can be supported by the way he acts during the joint signing. He quite literally barks and growls at the fans at one point lmao. Even if he isn't actually half demon, I think it would still be safe to assume he was born with some sort of physical defect or oddity, more than likely something that affects his eyes.

I feel like Baby is pretty self explanatory. He was made eternally youthful, to the point that he basically looks like a 5 year old. My guess is that he looked older than he was, and he was self conscious, or mocked, or something to that effect. Maybe his wife left him cause he was old looking? idk. In any case, this is what makes the most sense to me.

Romance is somewhat self explanatory, but there are still a few ways it could have gone. 1) He wanted to be able to have anyone he wanted, so Gwi-Ma granted him the ability to charm any and everyone. 2) He had an unrequited love. Gwi-Ma made his love fall for him, but it ended terribly in some way, shape or form. I can honestly see either, as both are fairly self-serving.

Last but not least, Jinu. He is the only member with a normal sounding name, but that doesn't mean we cant infer anything from it. Jinu in Korean means "genuine" or "true" and I think in this case, it symbolizes that he was the only one in the group that had good intentions with his actions. He did legitimately want to help his family, and I believe Gwi-Ma prevented him from doing so. Even if his family wasn't allowed into the palace or wherever, I think he had full intentions to send his mother the money he made. He was never able to, though; Gwi-Ma sent excuses and opportunities to squander away his money, then kept whispering in his ear that he was abandoning them. Don't get me wrong, he did abandon them. But I also understand that when the voice of doubt has you in a strong grip, it's well and truly paralyzing. Gwi-Ma accuses Jinu of being self-serving, but he is arguably the only one in the group who was trying to do the correct thing for the people he cared about the most.

Anyway I really fucking loved this movie: the visuals were stunning, the symbolism was spot on, and that soundtrack was KILLER! If anyone has other ideas or theories Id love to hear them! Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[freesoul-07-blog]

Pick a Pac: Tarot 💗

Hi lovelies! This was originally suppose to be a four pile reading. However, the cards I got for the final pile lowkey gave vibe of 2nd pile of the last pac I did.

And honestly, I didn't feel like interpreting the cards again. Maybe the the collective needs to hear new messages for a change? 🙆‍♀️ If not, your crush just want us to leave them alone lol. And I respect that.

Your crush's current feelings for you 👀💥💦

How do you choose your pile? Take a deep breathe and meditate on these images. And whichever picture draws your attention the most is your pile. Tho feel free to pick more than one pile, it may have additional messages.

Pile One

Hi everyone, so right now I feel your person is working hard. They are likely focused on making money, learning new skills, & pretty much anything that would help them grow and succeed. Page generally represent new energy / early stages ... so i won't be surprise if they recently started working. Or planning on building a business. Or even trying to ground themself in reality. However, I'm also seeing a little backward energy with image of the card, as in, they are moving ahead, but not completely over the past. So that was the second card i had pulled out, but it gives off very present energy to me forcing me to interpret it first. Now, looking at the first card, I'm definitely sensing some kind of missed opportunity that this person is thinking about. Maybe they were a little heartbroken with the bloodstains. I can see there are three cups that fell and there is a lot of blood spilling. It also gives me a little three of cups energy. Okay, so I'm getting a message here that your crush and you likely did not have a concrete connection. Maybe the feelings were not even expressed here? Whatever your situation is, this person is feeling the loss of this connection. A opportunity that never truly lifted off the ground.

As I said, they're working on something, building a career maybe, but something happened recently that tug a reunion string in their heart. Maybe they ran into you accidentally? Maybe you texted? Maybe someone mentioned you? Either way, that caught them thinking about the missed opportunity. Thinking about what was years back, or months back, or weeks back, take how it resonates. I'm also seeing that with the blood spilling out of the three of cups, I'm seeing it's just fresh, somewhere they did not expect for them to still feel this way. Whatever the feelings are, I guess it resurfaced, and then they realized that, okay, maybe I still feel something, yeah, again, it also giving like a grass is greener on the other side energy, to an extent. What I'm feeling is, they are so caught up in this five of cups, three of cups energy, they're not seeing the two of cups behind them, like they think missed opportunity, they're thinking about their own resurfacing feelings and maybe like crushing on you again, that they're not noticing that maybe this connection is mutual, maybe you also feel this way, maybe you are also experiencing the same emotions.

I think this pile is mine, because tell me why am I channeling the messages that is resonating so much, okay. With the presence of three of swords here, I'm seeing this situation was likely painful for them at first. Maybe when they first liked you, when they first had feelings for you, before this reunion, it was strong & intense. I feel they were really hurt by something.

Maybe they had communicated about it for some of you.

I'm getting right now they are in a place that they are probably thinking about the pain as well, what they had experienced. They are in their mind thinking about how the situation could also go wrong, you know, like if they were to take a step towards you, if they want to, if they are considering that, then it might turn into something really heartbroken for them. And there is potential of despair for them. Regardless, with the communication energy here, they might be thinking about approaching you. There is a lot of thinking here. They're considering their emotions, they're considering their pain, they're considering the potential pain that possibly come if they try to rekindle something or if they try to initiate something. That's what I'm getting.

Another scenario I am getting is maybe they are in a relationship or situation that is no longer serving them. Maybe an ex, maybe a complicated relationship, family, anything that they are struggling with. Maybe they are in a process of letting go. Trying to heal and self reflect. It could be related to you, but it could be related to something else as well. I was going to stop the reading here, but I ended up pulling few more cards to understand what is going on. And those cards did not want to come out, so I feel like they are in a very guarded energy. So let's see what is trying to come now.I am getting that they are thinking about some kind of new beginning with you. They are feeling it, that they are feeling some kind of spark when it comes to you.

And I always associate this card with Universe giving you an opportunity, a new beginning. So I feel that this is fated to an extent for some of you. I feel Universe has some play in it, you know. Season is changing. And I feel this specific connection is probably there for both of you to step up into your better self.

I am getting that maybe some of you are not paying attention to yourself and rotting in bed and just neglecting yourself or your health or general aspects of life. And maybe this connection, oh wait, I'm probably channeling this person's energy as well. So take it however it resonates. For some of you, your crush is likely not doing well. Not paying too much attention to them. Having a bit of a glow down. And maybe this is Universe's way of, you know, pushing them to have their game up, to pay attention to themselves, trying to impress you so that, you know, this connection grows into something more. That's what I'm getting. This is definitely some kind of divine intervention. And the reason I feel this way again is because even I was feeling this way. I'm like, I was very much in my single era, not caring, you know it's been so many months since I last went on a date or had feelings for someone. So I was such in a chill space and suddenly I ran into this person and we had a little K-drama moment and I'm just like, bro, I'm not even feeling my best right now. And suddenly I feel like that Demi Lovato song: But you ... make me wanna act like a girl. Paint my nails and wear high heels. I don't remember, I think Heart Attack is the song's name, so it might be relevant to some of you.

But I feel right now is a moment that it's kind of a shift in your crush's personality, maybe for you as well, where both of you are urged to take care of yourself and be best. And yeah, be attractive, bro, you're attractive. Step into that energy. I'm also getting that one or both of you are not in a place to be in a relationship or start any kind of situation. I saw a meme early in the morning that when I'm enjoying my single era and suddenly I start liking someone. Bro, what the fuck? I don't want to like you. Something like that. And I feel maybe it's one of those energies. One or both of you are feeling that it's a very unrequited situation. That person may think that you don't like them. They also look at your situation with a very watery energy. Maybe they are a water sign, pisces specifically. I feel it's very pure, but at the same time kind of unrealistic. You guys might be similar, you know.

For some of you, you both might have similar traits, similar feelings I'm getting, because this person kind of looks at you in a way that, also maybe you're like smaller than this person and they like that thing about you. I'm seeing this person with a soft smile looking at you and they feel like you are this one true love. But one true love is like a very intense emotion, right? And since this card was in a reverse, I feel they do have this one true love feelings for you but keep it hidden. I also feel for some of you, this is a very back and forth energy, may have been happening for years on end, maybe 10 years, maybe 5 years, take how it resonates, but I feel after all this time, this person looks at you in a very like a soft way. And, matter fact, the Ed Sheeran is also coming through. Like, we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. Like, maybe this person likes you, or liked you, without knowing why. You know, it's just like how magnets are? They are just drawn towards each other. And I'm not getting opposite energy, I'm getting very similar vibes from both of you. You guys are likely similar to each other, but the way they look at you is very original, you know?

For example, you know how Ariana Grande has so many clones? So, I feel like they look at you as this OG thing, and kind of morphing into you. Like, there is similarity between you both, but at the same time, they are kind of taking on your traits without realising or deliberately for some of you. #1 fan award goes to 🫠🫶

However, irrespective of these feelings, it's very internal.

They're not doing anything about it. They want to. I can feel it. But at the same time, they're not able to understand why they are so drawn to you.I'm also feeling that they might not be in a best emotional state. They might have mood swings. Yeah, a little emotional regulation is out of place here. I also feel like they look at you in a very high light, bro. Like you are this star person (as I mentioned already) and when it comes to you their emotions just runs high and they can't stop thinking. Like they just feel a lot when it comes to you. You quite literally are a celebrity in their eyes maybe. Yeah, and I feel there is some kind of past connection or some kind of forbiddenness to you. Like there is just yearning and yearning and yearning but nothing keeps happening. Nothing happens here.

I'm also sensing they see hope with you oh my god another song is coming through i don't know if you guys know clinton kane but there is a song called i think I'm in love and this specific line i heard "but with you i see hope again" ... i feel they feel that about you oh my gosh this is such a beautiful energy i'm dying. I'm also sensing that they are probably in a healing phase right now. They are experiencing a sense of composure, calmness. Maybe with the Fool card in reverse earlier, I feel they are coming out of it. They're recognizing their traits that are not really serving them. Again, there was some other card that spoke about the same thing. They're realizing the things that cause them pain, things about the relationship that is not good for them. And they're coming like, wow, maybe this is my wish fulfillment.

Maybe this is the reward for all the work I have done so far.They have this internal knowing about you. You know, they just feel drawn to you and they just feel this kind of connection, spiritual even, with you. Deep down they just feel very hopeful with you. And they feel like maybe there is a chance this time. "And darling, this is more than anything I've felt before you're everything." You should listen to that Clinton Kane's song, it's very beautiful. It kind of ties to Perfect by Ed Sheeran also. Similar message I'm getting actually.Yeah, I also feel that they feels nervous around you, but kind of playing it cool at the same time.Your crush likely feels that you're very mysterious. They look at you as their other half. You know, they just feel like you guys fit. They just feel like you guys are... kind of meant to be. In some way or another. They just have this deep feeling about it. Even if it does not work... or it's not working out... or it did not work out. I'm seeing this fruit, pomegranate. I don't know what it means. But I guess it means sweet. It means very... Fruity.

I'm not getting sexual vibes necessarily. But it might resonate with some of you so feel free to take it. They also intuitively feel that there is more you than what's visible. They definitely see you as very spiritual. Very wise. Very intellectual. So at this moment, they are just like waiting and trying to figure out what to do about this situation. They might make subtle moves without making it too obvious. They might create opportunities for you two to run into each other. I feel like there would be subtle moves from this person. Maybe they would message you. Or maybe they would say something on their Instagram, if you guys are connected on social media. There would be some kind of subtle way of showing their feelings.

With this moon energy, they also think that you're very secretive, like they don't understand what you feel, what you think. However, when it comes to intuition, they most certainly pick up some cues about you. I don't know, Vernon from 17 pop up into my mind, so maybe your person's personality is like him. They could be very logical, very practical, I know Vernon is T, so maybe your, crush has very logical, practical side to them. Now, I'm also seeing that this person thinks that you have been through some things. They can look at you somewhere they feel like you have experienced things that have really blindsided you, that really cut you in pieces that you don't talk about, that have had you distancing yourself from people, possibly not taking care of yourself.

Maybe they feel that you are trapped in some way. If that does not resonate, then I feel it's just, there is some kind of trapped, unsure, uncertain energy here that this person feels. Maybe they are going through something in their life that makes them feel this way, but since we are doing a reading in context to how they feel about you, I feel maybe they look at you in this way, to an extent. In respect of these feelings, I feel they crave some kind of security in relationship. So, if you guys want to come together, they might experience some possessiveness, a sense of wanting control over what you are doing, what you are feeling. So, there is a warning here. Another thing I am getting is, I have heard this thing also. You should not date people who has a history of liking you.

For example, if someone has liked you for a while, when you start dating them, they are actually dating you with this image of you in their mind that they like. So, when you don't play the part as how they have imagined you, they might not like it. They might not know how to deal with it. I don't know if this makes sense, but I do feel it's important to date people who like you for who you are and not what they think you are. I feel right now their foundation of how they perceive you is very... past Sense. It keeps giving very this thing did not work out way, lost opportunity, reluctance to getting into something, not mutual, etc. You know it's very one-sided energy and that makes them try to control the narrative in a way. If this is not about control then maybe they think that you're focused on your work, your materialism, your structure. However that resonates with you.

So that's it for your pile. I hope you liked it. Comment down below if it resonated. Your comments really help.

Pile Two

Your crush sees you as someone with a tough exterior. I know the man is holding a globe but it looked like a coconut to me. Maybe at one point you were his whole world too and now you're just ... you. Someone they used to know. Someone they still still hold a space for deep inside them. I also thought of "you used to have a face like a magazine, now you look like anyone" ~ change of heart by 1975

There’s something about you that feels heavy. Maybe you’ve been through a lot? Maybe they know parts of your past, or maybe it’s just the vibe you carry... but regardless, it makes them stop and think if they’re even ready to walk this path with you. (As I am channeling this message I keep thing about my ex love. The person I was hopelessly in love with & experienced immense pain with. So I do feel, this could be twin flame connection too)

For some, you both could’ve had an ending already & currently not on speaking terms. However, even if it wasn’t something between you two directly, there’s this “dark night of the soul” kind of energy hanging in the air. And if I am being honest, they don’t feel super elated when it comes to you. And it’s not because you aren’t special, it’s just... heavy. They might look at you as someone who struggles with self-worth. Like you’ve been feeling lost lately, unsure what direction to go in. And maybe, in that haze, you did something impulsive and that’s part of why things are the way they are now. If not you, then them. They might be in that confused space themselves. Not knowing how to come forward. Not knowing if they even can.

Before I even pulled the cards, I felt freaky energy around this pile. So for some of you, this was a physical thing. A very hot, very strong attraction that fizzled or never fully bloomed. Could be karmic. Could be one of those soulmates who come in just to mess everything up so you learn how to choose yourself. And the crazy part? They might feel that way too. Like you’re here to trigger something in them. That’s why this connection feels so mirrored.

Right now, from where their feelings are for you, everything’s stagnant. And they kind of want to keep it that way. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re not ready to open up emotionally. They do look at you as someone who challenges the norm. Maybe you did something that shocked them. Maybe you stood up for something. Maybe you’re queer. Maybe you live in a way that’s loud and honest and unapologetic. Whatever it is, it made them stop and look. Lowkey, they’re impressed.

Even if they act like they’re not.

You’ve got that “I do what I want, my life my rules, you only live once” kind of vibe and it fascinate(d) them. You might’ve even torn their mask off, seen parts of them that no one else gets to see. I don’t think they were ready for that. Also, since the start of this pile, there’s been this hip-thrusting melody stuck in my head. And I’ve been trying so hard to remember the lyrics but all I see is blurry dance moves with guy. So I feel like... this was very sexual for them. Especially in the beginning. And they’ve tried to suppress it. Maybe it was an entanglement, a one-time thing. But it wasn’t forgettable. It meant something. Even if they pretended it didn’t.

For some of you, this person might’ve been a player. But you? You didn’t feel like just another body. You cracked them open. You shook something loose. You made them rethink things. Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift could be relevant here. Pile 2... I don’t know. The energy in this reading felt short. Rushed. Like your person didn’t want to sit in these emotions. Like they wanted to get it over with.

So, I'll end your reading now. Let me know in the comments if it resonated. See you in the next one.

Edit: Okay, so I had completed your reading this evening but woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt of panic. I saw someone. & immediately I started thinking about your pile throughout the time I was half awake. I feel your person is still haunted by your memory. In the waking life, they got nothing much to say but subconsciously they are kinda scared of you & possibly what they feel for you. I can hear hanbin's verse from into the i-land. Another song that's coming through is parents by yungblud. This genuinely giving LGBT connection for some of you. When I turned on my phone to channel this message, I had to put my device on dnd cause they were too many messages. So I do feel they don't like facing the downloads that they get about you. I won't be surprise if you even appear in their dreams cause I was dreaming when I woke up. I don't remember anything about it tho. This is actually a theme of your reading... not remembering shit. Whatever went down between you two, your crush really got you buried deeper in their subconscious & hate reminiscing about you in physical world.

Edit 2: Okay. I finally found the forgotten song. The line that has been stuck in my mind was "pool full of liquor & you're dive in it" ... & as I had got the energy from this reading, this song is about get drunk , smashing, and if I'm being honest I thought of peak Justin Bieber. Whoever your crush is, on surface they are living their life, hitting clubs, meeting important people, smashing it... but lowkey I'm getting a violating energy. Maybe to an extent it's happening consensually & in fun way but there is a dark twist to it as well. Maybe they are spiraling and indulging into anything and everything that would keep them floating on surface. It could be your energy as well, so please take how it resonates. (Song: po up drank Lloyd)

You may resonate with the original track as well:

I double checked into the i-land and the verse I heard was "chingu ya nanun da" & turns out Hanbin's line was actually "you're another me, I'm another you" & that really confirms the mirroring energy of this reading so far. There's also repeating message of "let's run for our life" & honestly, I am genuinely concerned about you my pile two.

Idk if it's relevant to you but when I went back to sleep again, I woke up with a dream again.

Me and this specific person were at a closed room gathering where the organisers were sharing some knowledge, felt like they were teaching some practice. The person I was familiar with had some injury and had to walk with those support sticks. Now, long story short, the organisers that beating the people there ... me, this person & few more were not touched cause we didn't disobey them, but remaining folks got beaten to a point, one of them peed their pants and almost fainted. They asked us to leave, so I left thinking this person would follow me. I forgot about his injury and waited downstairs. After 5-7 mins I went back up to check why he is not coming and then I properly saw he is not able to walk, his leg is injured. Now, the bad guy came out of nowhere and asked us, why are you still here so started making excuses but something shifts as he starts behaving creepy with me. Now, suddenly I have no memory of the injured guy. All I thought in this moment, we have to escape, but he cannot run, but again, the guy is not really near me. Escaping felt next to impossible because the area is their and we can get found in snap of the fingers. So, I was just thinking of the plan. Again blur after that, and suddenly I am on road, with creepy people in car where I thought I'll get help. I passed it and sought help somewhere.

End of the dream.

I am getting very sticky, very dark energy from this pile. I tried to provide as much information I could. Maybe the dream will resonate with some of you. Please take care 🤍 Let me know, if it resonated. I'll possibly to another reading for your specific pile to gain more information if you want.

Pile Three

Right of the bat, I feel your person admires your strength. Do you have anger issues by any chance??? Maybe your crush has been this soft/ nurturing presence in your life who has seen you crashing. Lashing out. And gently hold you through the episode. You have very fiery energy to you (could be a leo) & your person is either a water sign or taurus/ libra placements. Very gentle & intuitive energy I am getting from your person. They do have mother like feelings for you. Naturally protective. They may have witness you having some kinda transformation & maybe you're in a process of breaking some cycle. Maybe a loop that you cannot / couldn't seem to get out of. They look at you with someone who has too much going on. Too many people tugging at your energy. Maybe you're fighting with multiple people all at once. You could be in a bad unfulfilling situation that this person is able to see.

The energy I am getting is "Fighting in only your army. Frontlines, don't you ignore me. I'm the best thing at this part. (You're losin' me by Taylor)" ...I really feel you're experiencing a fall put of a relationship. Could be platonic, could be career wise. Something that got you crumbling and this person has very outsider energy as they are witnessing it. It also giving "And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides" ~ long story short Taylor Swift

& strangely enough the line before this was "Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep" & it's 2.45 am as I doing this reading. I had woken up scared. So maybe for some of you, pile two would resonate with as well. They also see you as someone who super grounded & stable as far as your finances are concerned. But somehow the image on the card is giving lonely energy. So, I don't think they can see through how despite the composure, despite someone who comes across with immense self trust, rooted in practicality & knows how make / sustain abundance ... you are deep down defeated. Like you literally won a battle but at what cost??? It's reminding me of that Taylor's speech where she won too many awards during 1989 era yet at the end of the day she had no one to share that happiness with. On paper you have everything, but you still feel hollow. You are likely burned out too.

Your person can see you as someone who is facing challenges but refusing to learn from the past patterns. You're too stubborn right now. Maybe what you have experienced has made you skeptical of things and you no longer want to rely on anyone. Maybe you lost people, maybe someone closer to you unalive themself too. I see that you have this alternate scenario in your mind where you often think about this person where there is no pain. No pushbacks. Just laughter. Maybe you have experienced people who would enter and leave your life as they please and it got your heart blocked. You no longer want to love anyone. It's giving eight by iu ft suga. Your person wants you to come out of that energy and focus on what's still here. Maybe them? They want you to assess the way you're living life. You seek help (cause they want to help you). They want you to celebrate small moments of victories. And push through the challenges. You're one survivor pile 3. I am so proud of you. Your person can definitely see that your burden by your past that you're letting go of the toxic mindset.

For some of you, you could be traveling to take a break as well. You may have a lot on your mind, & this person wants nothing more than to unload your burden. They want to tend to your injured adult self and pamper your inner child. They want to take you away from all this pain, just like the man on the boat taking the woman & child away. Maybe it's a long journey. But your person wants you to drop the sword now. They want you to stop fighting all alone on battlefield. They are here now. Let them take care of things. They are manifesting a new beginning with you. They want you to stop hesitating & embrace what you have right now. Live in the moment with them, will you? Angel baby is significant here as well ... except you're Troye Siwan.

Having said that, they are acknowledging that you're not in the best emotional situation right now. Your inner world is a mess and you're liking crashing big time, no wonder we started the pile with the same energy. They really want you to work on your emotional regulation. How can they help you if you don't wanna help yourself? So please step up into your authenticity & approach your situation with discernment. If you've been jumping to conclusions without any facts, then please change that. So that's it for your reading my pile three. If this pac resonated with you, please let me know in the comments below.

I am sending you so much love 💞💫 See you.

[nofilterwaterfilter]

also on the voice thing, we all know kris is one of the most autism coded characters to ever exist, but i really do love everything that both routes of chapter four when taken in conjunction told us about kris, being nonverbal, and how that's not painted as a bad thing?

it's pretty common i've seen for silent protagonists to be headcanoned as nonverbal autistic, but i think this is the first time i've seen it be explicitly canon, and also have it be pretty intrinsic to the narrative?

and like no, kris isn't entirely nonverbal, they do speak occasionally. but deltarune in general, and particularly ch4, paints a very strong picture of someone who (at least when they have control over their own voice) does not use words as their primary method of communication

like you can start with quiet people piss me off, or the fact that music is such an important avenue of self expression for them (made all the worse when they're not in control). noelle in ch1 asks if kris is okay when the player asks her the same background/lore questions we can ask everyone, because kris talking this much pings immediately as wrong to her. then there's everything we know about kris as a kid, and how yeah they had a bit of a mean sense of humor, but also pranks and fucking with people was a very good way for them to get attention without having to talk at all

noelle's story of the ferris wheel if you listen to all her and susie's dialogue in dess' room sticks out to me for this, and i really do love that anecdote. noelle mentions she and kris were pushed into riding the ferris wheel together as kids, she didn't really want to be there. and kris didn't say anything the whole time, for the first half they were just looking out the window. but then they decided to jump up and down and shake the entire capsule, and that's when they turned to noelle and smiled. susie goes "is that good or bad?" in response to that story and noelle says she doesn't know, but it's one of the things that gets kris' attention! and whether you believe that they were doing it to freak noelle out or because they also thought this was dumb and wanted to make it more fun for both of them (noelle isn't sure which it was either), that is how they communicate!

and when they do use words. this is the bit that makes me most emotional - noelle in weird route describes kris' voice as deadpan and mumbly. they don't like being loud, they don't talk very often, and they really struggle with inflection. all things that are normally criticisms when directed at autistic people, they're stuff autism moms use to justify their "i know my real child is in there somewhere" bullshit. but when noelle hears it again from soulless kris for the first time since the soul stuff started, she starts crying over how much she's missed hearing them talk. the soul (as we know from a variety of susie and noelle conversations) is louder, more charismatic, more confident and articulate, and it's not kris. so all those traits that are normally things autistic people get told to be more, are explicitly condemned by the narrative

and that's what makes kris being largely nonverbal such an excellent additional dimension to their story. because everything the soul does, at least in the normal routes, pretty much aligns with how people are expected to behave? kris under our control has a great social life, has friends, is likeable, isn't weird and hard to understand. and a crueler person, the kind autistic people have to deal with far too often, would say "well it's good we gave them a voice, they're not using theirs anyway"

but that's what makes it evil! it doesn't matter if kris is the kind of autistic that everyone hates, if there are things about them that don't fit in with society but that they either can't or don't want to change. their life and their voice, as infrequently heard as it is, is still theirs. and they deserve the freedom to use it however they want to

[insomniac-dot-ink]

A month later, an advert appears in the paper. You wouldn’t normally answer, the odds of getting caught would go up every time you do stupid shit, but your bike spoke broke. DoorDash had been suiting you just fine–you really could bike forever. But the spoke on your bike split like someone snapping their fingers and your heart sank. You used to love biking.

Plus, the advert felt targeted. Near the back of the paper, you’d been checking them every day now, and it was barely a paragraph. WANTED: Spirit or Ghoul with high endurance. Strong preference for ghoul. Flexible hours and attire. Temporary position, paid upfront. Meet at crossroads at twilight.

It was dated for that day. How presumptuous, you think, and you fold the newspaper in half and then in half again like you’re storing good wedding linen.

“I’m going out, grandma!” you call toward the drawing room.

Your grandma mutters to herself, she was a muttery person, before yelling back: “bah! No need to always tell me, you’re an adult, kitty Kate.” The statement was a little at odds with your childhood nickname, but grandma was always insisting you fly to Paris on your own or adopt a hellhound or buy a house. Well, you’d like those things too.

You're out the door in late afternoon. No heels this time, and your pantsuit had gotten a small grass stain last time so leave that too. You walk because of the bike situation, and you walk even more quickly when you’re out of your neighborhood. There were several devil’s crossroads throughout the city, most were tourist traps, but everyone agreed Old Town really did host an intersection of the otherworld. It was also a tourist trap, naturally.

You leave the sidewalk and walk up and then down several stone streets that become stonier with every block. Old Town is lousy with crowds and you suddenly wish you’d worn your pantsuit and heels. A ghoul that looks like she has a business degree might turn out better in their photos, you think.

Head down, eyes on your feet, you almost run headlong into her. She has a the same crooked smile that matches her crooked nose.

“You made it.” Stephanie is wearing a studied leather belt and a pair of black skinny jeans. You pang with jealousy–it must be easy for her to throw on pants or a long skirt and blend right in. “You’re early.”

You muster a smile and check the skyline. “Too early?”

She shrugs. “Depends on if you want the job. Come on, this way.”

Glancing around, you slide a face mask on. No way are you going to be identifiable near Stephanie and her gigs. You walk in step toward the back alleys, thick with shadows and crisscrossing side streets.

“I like the new hair,” Stephanie says as you walk.

You touch the ends of your shortened hairdo. “Thanks.” You muster a better smile. “I was going for morning weather lady.”

“Want to be on the news?” She snorts, and you don’t mention you interviewed at a local radio station. You didn’t make it to the second round. Stephanie points at her own head. “I was mainly talking about the color.”

You feel a blush creep down your neck, and you’re even more glad you put on the face mask on. Had you meant to bleach your hair the same white as hers? God, you’re embarrassing.

“It’ll fade soon.” You sigh, tosling your Weather Lady locks.

“Green?”

“How did you know?” you say dryly. “I used to tell the kids in class that it was part of a curse on my bloodline. Haunted by the ghost of grass or limes, I suppose.”

“I take it spirits aren't the source?” You kind of like that you have her attention, this stranger out of time.

“Nah.” You smile behind your mask and lower your voice, “my family’s favorite symbiote. Can’t get enough of us.” You refrain from saying the word “fungus” since no one wants to hear their companion has a mossy covering from her hair to her teeth. You’d tried dying your hair a hundred different colors as a teen and the fungus always repopulated from the scalp outward.

She laughs, dusty and a little grating. “Is that the difference between a ghoul and a spirit, then? One has phantom green and the other makes their own.”

“Something like that . . .” You are distracted by the empty street ahead. Old Town takes a drastic turn into a residential district, pock-marked by dank puddles and frayed laundry lines. The doors are firmly shut on either side of you, and Stephanie leads around the corner to a layer of bright yellow tape.

“Here we are.” She grins at the crime scene tape.

You set your jaw. “Paid upfront.”

—------------------ The alleyway has a neglected feel, straddling the line between the tourist district and the one for everyone else. An ATM sits at the corner, a soda machine, another machine just for bottled waters, and a third one, near the back, surrounded by a web of police tape.

Stephanie has you hang back until the sun splinters across the horizon and turns the sky a quilted purple. She nods, pulled her hood up, and has you duck your heads under the tape.

You follow as low to the ground as you can, eyeing the mouth of the alleyway. “Where are the cops again?”

“Getting special forces.” Stephanie rolls her eyes. “A priest. Come on.”

Crossing the yellow tape in a few bobbing steps, you see why they’re getting a priest. The vending machine is gently glowing. You cup your eyes, and press your face to the glass, glancing between the licorice packs and rolls of powdered donuts. “Jesus Christ,” you say when you see it, which is appropriate.

A fingerbone slots at the very front of the candy bar wrung, caught in the spring like a gruesome snack. The bone is sun-dipped yellow and cracking in places. You jerk back when you blink and the fingerbone reappears among the cracker packets a second later. You feel slightly ill.

Stephanie clicks her tongue. “Saints’ bone.”

“What is it doing in there?” you ask without taking your eyes off it.

Stephanie gets to her knees in a creaky, pained movement. “Some kids used it to pay.” Your mouth falls open and Stephanie cuts in, “Saints bones can be used to pay for anything.”

“Yeah--and for miracles,” you say pointedly. Like the miracle of getting stuck in a vending machine, you guess.

“Kids.” Stephanie says and makes a ‘what can ya do’ gesture. She adds more quietly, “hungry ones. And when the cops go looking for them maybe there is nothing in the machine after all. Maybe their eyes were no good and there is no illegal owning of bones or holy objects used as currency.”

You suck on your bottom lip and follow Stephanie down to your knees, hoping the kids at least got one of every kind. “Why can’t it get out?” You never see the finger move, but every time you blinked, it changed positions.

Stephanie propped open the mouth of the vending machine, wrapping her knuckles against the glass with her other hand. “Bit like a casket . . . Bones don’t leave the casket.”

You groan and peer through the vending machine slot, flexing your right hand and eyeing the finger bone. “Two hundred,” you grunt, “now.”

You get $250 for your troubles, inflation and all that. You jam your entire arm in and reach. Your eyes burn from holding them open, locking the bone in place with your gaze, and shoving half your shoulder into new, fascinating positions. The pad of your finger grazes the bottom of the bone.

“Ow!” You realize why no one else has yanked it out yet. “It bit me.” Jerking your hand back, pinpricks of sluggish black blood dribble out of the tip of your finger. Technically, the bone didn’t really bite, but it had become sharp enough to cut.

Stephanie let out a long breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t register you . . .”

You growl, “ghouls aren’t undead-undead. It wouldn’t recognize me as one of its own.” Stephanie rubs the back of her neck and you let out another groan. “Whatever. Stand back. Give me some room.”

You blink several times until the bone reappears close to the bottom of the case and you jam your whole arm in all at once. You growl, knowing what to expect now. You tell your body to forget your hand. When you yank the damn thing out, black blood sluggishly weeps down your wrist.

“Fuck you too.” You throw the bone to the ground and shake your hand out.

“Hey! Careful.” Stephanie dives on the finger bone, slamming what looked like a shoebox down on it. The lid seals and begins glowing faintly. Stephanie glances up from the ground. “You okay?”

You cover your hand with a handkerchief before she can see. “I will be.” One of your fingers may have been dangling off but your grandma had remedies for that. The moss was useful for more things than just dye.

Stephanie frowns in a way that suggests birthday party cancelations or a rash you can’t reach. She slides you another fifty. “Hazard pay.”

You plan to stay and clean up any trace of blood or fingerprints, but Stephanie grips the box in both hands and turns. “Come on. The witch said we only had until the sun sets.”

“But . . .” You look between the back of Stephanie and the machine.

She waves a hand in the air. “We’re professionals!”

Who is “we”? you wonder. But the less you know probably the better. You check that the gore is contained to her hand all the same and run after her a second later. “Are,” you swallow, panting and looking at the shoebox. “Keeping that?”

“The kid swiped it from the family’s heirlooms, I suppose.”

You grip your pulsing right hand and lower your voice further, “should they be getting it back?”

Saints’ Bones were almost always stolen, claimed by raiding soldiers generations ago or crooked thieves, and kept apart from their holy bodies. Stephanie looks both ways before crossing the street, and then turns on you. “Should, should, should. Shouldn’t you be in the military? Ghouls get paid like CEOs there.”

You study your feet, sun disappearing behind you and leaving you both in the dark. Stephanie steps in close and hands you a brick-like cellphone. “Well, if you’re interested in more gigs in the future. . . I won’t have to pay any more newspaper fees.”

A part of you considers smashing the phone to the ground, but you take it in your good hand.

“So I can mangled again?” you say this to your shoes, still gripping the phone.

She waves, weakly, and presents a meager smile when you look up. “Well, I mean, you’re good at it.”

You snort and turn away, trying to hide the sudden warmth in your chest and temptation to buy a leather belt. She doesn’t let you watch her leave and you decide to bus home for once.

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

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into series if people are interested!

WANTED

You find the advert face down on the table. You’re picking up after your grandma. She insists her mind is sharp as a tack but her empty tea cups and loose handkerchiefs and day-old newspapers litter every surface. You scan the paper, and a part of you is sure there aren’t any more jobs like this.

The paper is yesterday’s paper and the various jobs match LinkedIn: nannying and dog walker and kitchen staff. The advert, the one, is stark against the others. You read the tiny printed words over and over, always getting stuck on the word WANTED.

Your friends told you not to go: what kind of job asks you to meet in the middle of the woods? What kind of jobs has no website or contact info? What kind of jobs were advertised in the goddamn paper? You friends wouldn’t get it.

Anastasia, your best friend since third class, tells you to keep your “Find My Phone” on and call when you get there. She really wouldn’t get it. Your grandma tells you that this is the world, the other version of it, and you are her granddaughter. So go.

You walk the three and a half miles in high heels. This job probably wouldn’t even expect high heels, but old habits die hard. You were once convinced in college your girlfriend cast a curse on you, the sleepless nights and a relentless rash proved it. Now that you’re an adult, an adult-adult, you don't think so anymore. If anything was a witch’s spell, it was LinkedIn. Hours and hours of youth wasted on the same go-around.

5 years of experience and 3 different references and no street parking but the bus is only a block away. You can walk, right? Unpaid overtime and shaving your legs to go sit for an hour in an uncomfortable plastic chair. That’s an unusual last name, is it a family one? Ah. I see.

You can walk for a long while. Your heels slup, slup, slup in the soupy ground and it takes you longer than you’d like to look around. The street lights dwindle. The trees gather. The path disappears. The woods are thick and unfamiliar and an iron fence rises in the distance. Despite the late summer heat, the air smells of frost. Maybe Anastasia was right–whether you are your grandmother’s descendent or not.

She comes out of the woods on rail-thin chicken legs. Her skirt is short, cut at a horizontal angle, and she looks like where the punk scene from the 80s went to die. She has a studded leather jacket and bleach-blonde asymmetrical hair. You shove your hands in your stupid suit jacket and check the skies. Half-moon, just risen, you’re right on time.

“You here for the advert?”

“It’s half-moon, isn’t it?” you say back and flash her a tight smile. You had had a sudden sinking feeling about her ability to write you a paycheck. 

She looks you up and down. “Spirit?”

“Ghoul.” You shrug. “Yaga?” She sticks out one of her stalky chicken legs. “Servant of one. Two gens back. On my father’s side.” Your strained smile gentles. “I’m Katie.” Her smile sharpens in response. “Stephanie. Come on, let’s take a walk.” “Was that a real advert, Stephanie?” You saddle up beside her despite yourself. “Cause if you’re just here to pull my leg, know that I'm pretty hard to put down.” She lets out a harsh laugh that sounds like it hurts. “I’m counting on it.” She winks. “Now, not sure I know your line so well, what’s the difference between a ghoul and a spirit?” What is a spirit or ghoul? What was a gig worker or a salaried one? Perhaps a whole length away. Stephanie pushes a bush aside to reveal a hole in the iron fence and leads you through. The grass turns from wild heather to manicured green and you emerge into a field of rolling hills. Your skin prickles. You might be hard to kill, but not to capture. You stay low to the ground.

“Can I be paid upfront?” Her breath smells of winter frost and fresh-turned soil. “You down that bad?”

You survey the trimmed grasses and gentle slopes, the unnatural prickle spreads through your skin to your bone. A house rises in the far-distance, and you swallow thickly. “Is this some Scooby Doo shit?”

“Come on.” She pushes your shoulder. “I’ll pay upfront. The only real question is if you’ve got a pair of lungs on you.” You toss your ponytail back. “For as long as you like. But, I gotta ask, are there really not any free banshees right now?” Stephanie’s smile falters for the first time. “Old world is dying,” she snorts. “Or just buried deep enough to feel that way.” “We’re still here.” “Still here.” She slips you two hundred and takes you to the side of a small lake. The water is murky and the edges form an unnatural drop. She hands you a lightweight dress, gauzy and impossibly white, and you wrinkle your nose. You looked back and forth between the far-distant house and the lake.

It took you the whole walk to place the gate and the house and the land: The Turnpikes. Built almost seven generations back and larger than ever. You couldn’t imagine. The old world was dying, but you supposed it was also just right there. You put the dress on and kick your heels off. Gathering your stuff, Stephanie gives you a big thumbs up and backs away. You take a deep breath, you don't need many, but you had a feeling it would count.

A light in the far-distant window turns on. You see your grandma in your mind’s eye, her tangled green hair and wicked little smiles. All this for two hundred? But a ghoul isn't a banshee. You jump in feet first.

The wet and the cold and the dank water with no memory swallows you. You submerge in the tiny manmade lake, and when you come out, you come out screaming.

The fear of ghouls is an ancient one–something hard to kill. That can walk forever, fight forever, go Without forever. And you think, as you toss your head back, drip water, and let your lungs rattle in your chest, that you might scream forever too.

For two hundred bucks, a ghoul can be a banshee and a world can be made old and new and when you scream, you can scream until you’re made real again.

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

Newsletter 🧡 Pre-order my new book!

[elodieunderglass]

🌈 killie, and NOT just his work colours that's cheating killie we know that you must own other clothes

He does! He's surprisingly fond of purple, dark green, and a weird cool mauve-y colour.

Admittedly, outside of work clothes and a branded fleece or two, he has his tailor sort that stuff out. I imagine the long-suffering tailor produced the colour palette above, whereupon Killie never had to think of colours again in his life.

Which is good, because with his colouring, the consequences of getting it wrong are awful. He looks nice in green, but in Killie's case, green+ginger+short+Irish is close to committing a specific kind of dehumanising microaggression against oneself, so it has to be very dark desaturated green. Any warm colour, or conversely anything with too much blue, has people wondering if he's escaped from a pediatric cancer ward.

He normally doesn't have to make many decisions around his clothes. It's work clothes (racing) work clothes (work riding) work clothes (exercise) and work clothes (five-piece hand-tailored formalwear). And he does have secret fun with the cheeky patterned waistcoat and floral lining. But that's all clothes that fall firmly within The Rules. Two or three hundred years ago, some strong-minded equestrians decreed that horsey people would wear breeches and boots and high-necked tops, and that the uniform for certain activities (hunting, A Day At the Races) would remain utterly unchanged, and so Killie's been able to tie a cravat since he was 13.

He only really falls apart when someone tries to take him to "the pub" or some other "fun" "activity" and he has to wear a "normal outfit" like "other" "people" "wear." Leaving aside the fact that men's wear is a cultural mess, "normal" clothing shops aren't expecting the custom of a masc long-legged big-shouldered athlete under five feet tall. And "normal men" seem to just be doing the square root of fuckall, and always look faintly rubbish. And yet men are so quick to get mad about it, and apparently they all feel like it can be done wrong, and judge you! So if you look closely at his "normal" outfit, Killie is drawing colours and ideas from the things he knows.

[apple-salad]

Not Rose Basket: An Approx. 5 Year Old Remake Project

In which I attempt to make a Rose Basket JSK.

Read below the cut for my process and crafting notes.

Did you know that all Mary Magdalene "prints" use commercial fabric excepting Perfume Bottle (their first and only original print)? What this potentially means is that scraps of fabric featuring familiar MM motifs sometimes can be found floating around. It seems like at some point, someone found the original Rose Basket fabric and had it made into a JSK (likely by the handmade Taobao store that is known for making MM replications if the buyer provides fabric) in Mary Magdalene likeness.

The resulting item was a good attempt, especially given that the maker only had tiny stock photos to work out the general shape and print placement, but definitely there was something to be desired...

When I saw this JSK for sale, I felt that I had a decent remake project on my hands. I had already been looking for MM (or MM-like) materials for a while, so I figured I had the capability to bring up the piece to its full potential. I don't usually take on larger/i.e. actual garment projects, but this piece was a very strong case for giving it a try.

However, such projects are not without their pains, aren't they? Even with some semblance of a garment existing in the form of this dress, one may as well have been starting from scratch.

Unfortunately I didn't take many photos of the "before" dress so the pictures I do have don't really give it a fighting chance (it's so wrinkly and overexposed), but the shape was pretty much all wrong. However, it had good bones due to good fabric being used, and I knew I could make it better.

Laid flat and from afar, the JSK actually looks okay but there are numerous areas where it falls short. I'll talk about them shortly.

I was initially pretty excited to work on this project, so I pretty much seam ripped it apart right away after receiving it. Little did I know it would sit in parts in a bag for years...

Part 1: Trying to remember what I was doing 5 years ago

In terms of materials, I searched within Japan/Japanese sources using Mary Magdalene's original material terminology as reference. Unfortunately it had seemed that the original "shirurido" lining material had been discontinued, but it had a successor material that was almost identical when I bought a small amount, so that ended up not being a worry. The original lining is a little bit offwhite/ivory, so I purchased white lining and tea-dyed it. This colour will likely lighten as I wash it.

Many think that this light lining material that MM often uses ("for spring and summer" garments) is cotton, but it is actually 100% polyester! However, it does have a great hand feel and seems to have wicking properties as well, so there's no reason to discredit this poly.

Oddly, the wine rose basket specifically uses this kind of more chunky/slightly less structured braid. The other 3 colorways use a firmer type with the same wavy style. I managed to find a shop that carried both types and just bought as much as I felt was appropriate.

I was actually told that the firmer braid had been discontinued (which maybe explained why MM chose a different one for wine--there wasn't any stock of the other braid in red?) at the time (this was ~2017), but currently as far as I know the loose braid has actually been completely discontinued now and another company has picked up selling the firmer braid (maybe the machine that makes it was purchased by another company).

Dot tulle was thankfully not difficult to find. The colour matches perfectly, so I knew I had the right one 🙂

Now, let's break down the original dress.

Note that I did have the original Rose Basket (in a different colour) to use as a reference, which helped immensely.

The silhouette is obviously not quite right, although attempts were made to match seams similar to the original. The measurements are also different (likely made to match the buyer's requested dimensions) with the bodice being a little bigger. The skirt is also shorter, but I think that is just a mistake of the original seamstress.

The tulle is not very nice/cheap looking and the lace is also totally wrong. Those definitely had to go, so ripping off the lace and taking off the lining was first priority.

The lining material was a light cotton. It was okay, but cotton lining doesn't have the slipperiness of the original lining fabric so I preferred replacing it.

The lining and skirt lining would be completely remade from scratch, but obviously since I only had a dress' amount of original rose basket fabric, I would have to use what I had.

I initially focused on the skirt because it was the easiest portion to tackle as a pleated rectangle.

The original dress had the tulle sewn/serged onto the main fabric. This is...you could say, "incorrect", and changes the way the tulle sticks out of the skirt (as you can see in the comparison pictures), so I opted to just cut it off as closely to the serged edge as possible. It seemed sensible to leave the edge alone (rather than rip out the serging) since at the time I didn't have a serger of my own and the edge being already hemmed is convenient.

The original dress uses some kind of serged edge+blind hem stitch, while the replica more lazily folded over the bottom edge and used a line of stitching to secure both the braid/lace and the hem.

When comparing the length of the skirt to the original rose basket, the replica actually has more fabric folded into the seam due to the method used. Thankfully, the length of fabric used for the skirt was actually pretty much perfect when using the old hem fold and I guess the shorter appearance may have been due to other factors (cut of the bodice and length of tulle lace used maybe?).

Because it was easy to leave things as-is, I used this same hem fold and sewed the new braid onto the hem with two lines of regular straight stitch for security (two lines of stitching are consistently used on MM garments to secure braid or lace, although some older items may only have one line).

(I actually made a mistake here which I'll get back to later)

I attempt to use a method similar to MM to create the skirt lining layer. Dot tulle is cut into strips, gathered carefully (I don't have a ruffle foot so I used 2 lines of straight stitch+gather by hand since it tends to gather more evenly and look nicer than using only one, and I wanted to use some care here) and then attached to the skirt lining.

Without a serger, I used my machine's hemming stitch (it's a bit ugly, but it worked okay) and then topstitched the ruffle flat.

I also tried to take advantage of the lining selvedges so I wouldn't have to hem. Any extra fabric with raw edges I had to sew on to match the hem circumference of the original lining also was roughly machine hemmed.

The dot tulle doesn't need to be hemmed, but MM has neatly clipped the bottom edges of any tulle seams so the seam looks cleaner, therefore I did the same. (Sorry the picture seems to have turned out a bit blurry)

I can't really remember well, but I think it was at this point that I initially thought my job was done until I realized that the replica dress' pleats did not line up properly with the original. The widths were all wrong, possibly because the original seamstress had to make some modifications to the skirt pleat proportions to match the adjusted bodice measurements?

The skirt circumference and the way the fabric is cut for the skirt is somewhat different from the original dress, so I had to do some careful adjusting to get the pleats to have the same width and overall appearance as the original dress. I think some of the pleats are not as deep as they should be but you can't really tell with the final result. Such is the trouble when you have to work with what you have and there is no extra fabric available!

It was at this point that I took a break from the project because the bodice was next and that was, of course, a very daunting task. I think I had marked out some seam lines for adjustment on the front piece, and I had also decided that the back piece could remain sewn to the side back portions since they weren't too far off from the original appearance (the original back panel is actually only one piece of fabric with darts--the seamstress of the replica had used 3 separate panels for the back instead, so there are inevitable differences).

I also spent some time making new bows for the rose basket as I was not satisfied with the ones included with the dress. I don't have any pictures, but I dyed cotton sateen dark wine and that was a huge pain since red is a very tough colour to dye. I also made some mistakes with my bow making method (they were initially interfaced and used too much fabric in the middle which made them look too thick), so they were also left as unfinished pieces for a while.

Anyway, many years pass...

Part 2: The revisit

I would like to think I am maybe older and wiser 5 years on, with a more sewing expertise, but I'm not really convinced about that. Anyway, maybe I was better equipped for trying to adapt the bodice because I have a mannequin now.

I had previously had a bit of trouble fussing with the curves of the bodice flat with my fabric pieces, so I threw my mint rose basket on the mannequin and tried to match the seams carefully. Although...this mannequin might have been a tiny bit busty for rose basket and deformed the shape a bit.

Apologies for the cutout PNGs from here on out, the background was way too chaotic for me to let you see it.

It is at this point that I am wanting to put the project down again and really not enjoying working on this because trying to gain a rough pattern, and carefully match seams is not very fun and rather exhausting, requiring a lot of back and forth checking things and making sure I don't mess anything up.

After marking seams and having some confidence in the shape, I sew the front back to the sides again.

Thankfully, it seems like the pieces have enough fabric to create an original-looking bodice, but I suppose that was my expectation given that the original bodice measurements were a little larger than the actual MM dress. It's interesting to see where the original pattern cuts differ compared to how they should look and be sewn.

My first attempt at sewing the front together had a little too much of the print stripes showing at the sides, so I brought them in a little and tried again. When scrutinizing where the print is placed relative to the seams of the original JSK it once again becomes clear where the pattern cuts were a little off in the replica, but it isn't too bad and I think this result is almost indistinguishable.

There is a decent few centimetres of excess fabric at the sides (which was completely expected as the extra bodice room of the inital dress had to go somewhere), but I avoided cutting it down because it's precious extra fabric...

The only real modification the back needed was some small adjustment of the corset loops. I think I had also previously increased the seam at the very bottom of the back side panels because the original dress has this kind of "widening" (circled parts) that gives it a slight dropped waist.

I check both front and back portions, and when I am satisfied with the result I sew one of the side seams together.

Pretty much a completed bodice, the other side seam is left alone for now since zipper insertion will come last.

I can sew on the braid now. It is at this point while I am looking at the braid and realizing that is has a "right side" that I seem to have sewn the braid onto the skirt wrong (those many years ago...)

A 50% chance of getting it right and it was wrong!

While I'm sure a regular person would not care, I felt that it was worth repairing the mistake so the dress could be as close to the original as possible.

Fixed trim on the right.

I spent a few grueling hours ripping out the braid and reattaching it in the same method as before.

Braid also attached to the bodice.

I am wishing I had a complete dress by now, but unfortunately not...getting the bodice lining sorted is next...

MM's Rose Basket has a facing using printed fabric, however since I have no extra fabric to use for it and the dress I was working with didn't bother with adding that kind of detail (the original lining was just plain cotton with no facing panels at all) I decided to use this untextured rose basket fabric.

I originally considered just using the same lining fabric for the facing panel but seeing the dress laid flat with a matching printed facing is a detail that somehow enhances my enjoyment of looking at it a lot.

This fabric is from a reprint of the rose basket fabric from a couple years ago. It is also discontinued now but is very lackluster compared to the older fabric in my opinion. It is a rather thin quilting cotton and doesn't seem as vibrant as the original fabric, and has slightly different contrast colours. While you could still make a garment with it, I feel like it doesn't match up to the fabric used on the old rose basket because of the new fabric's sheerness.

However, given fabric supply limitations (i.e. I don't have anything) I think it's a decent nod to maintaining having self-fabric for the facing and will not be seen when worn.

Lining pieces are similar to the bodice pieces I traced out earlier so I used them as a reference and checked the shape with the lining panels on the original dress (on my mannequin).

The back lining seems to have a centre back seam as opposed to the outer fabric layer that had no seam/darts, and is made from 4 panels total.

Lining complete.

Next I attach the bodice lining to the main bodice piece, along with the straps. I mark where the straps should go based on my reference rose basket, sandwich them between the bodice pieces, pin and sew.

I left the straps as-is from the original replica dress. These are made from two strips of fabric sewn on each side, vs MM having used one strip and folding it in half. Just a different way of achieving the same thing, I guess. Of course I would have preferred the method to be "same as the original" but once again, no extra fabric... (I think I may have asked my SS to ask the seller if they had any extra and to include it if so, and the seller said they didn't have any...)

I also sew an elastic channel (sort of like topstitching) all the way along the top of the bodice about 1cm wide for later.

At this point I think that I seem to have pleated my skirt lining wrong. however, I may have just misinterpreted the other side of the lining pleats as the side that was "wrong", so I ended up having to repleat multiple times in my own confusion.

[it hurt itself in its confusion!]

Anyways, after that fiasco I baste the pleats down and attach the skirt lining to the bodice lining so I can check the length.

It's coming together!

I sew the outer skirt to the outer bodice fabric next, a step that makes me very nervous because if the seam shaping is wrong I feel that it could mess up the silhouette of the dress quite severely. To try to diminish this, I baste the bodice in sections to the skirt by hand, frequently checking beside the original dress.

I ended ripping out my basted skirt pleats and re-pleating the entire back because I didn't feel like the pleats were aligning well.

After sewing the outer skirt to the bodice, I once again check that the lining length is okay (it was a bit too long at the back), finish inner seams etc.

I added the elastic to the channel I added earlier now. Unfortunately I think I should have encased the elastic while stitching in the channel because it was a huge pain to get distributed properly and I had to unpick some sections to get the elastic to spread out and then carefully try to invisibly re-stitch. The elastic is gathered more around the armpits/sides than the front and back.

Last task is attaching the zipper. The dress has a completely encased invisible zipper with no zipper tape edge showing from the inside. It seemed like the lining was sewn on separately after the main fabric was sewn to the zipper, but I ended up folding over and seaming the inside by hand because it seemed too complicated for me to sew the lining to the zipper cleanly with my machine at my current ability level.

Zipper attached, definitely a lackluster job... I don't have a proper zipper foot and the cheap plastic invisible zipper foot I have is definitely not helping with keeping the zipper allowance even. I hope to fix the skirt seam alignment issue here and sew the zipper seam (especially near the top) closer to the fabric, but I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever be motivated to do that since the dress is now "wearable".

I actually also carelessly clipped the excess zipper tape at the top thinking that was what I should be doing even though it seems like MM has cleanly folded it in on the original dress 😢 (can't attach a photo as I'm pushing the post image limit as it is)

Since it was kind of getting down to the wire to the day I wanted to wear this dress, that was when I roughly finished/handsewed the lining to the zipper tape on the inside so the dress can be worn without any terrible consequences. What I should do next is fold in all the upper seams nicely, actually machine sew the lining to the zipper tape so the seam is clean, sew in a hook and eye to the top of the zipper, and add threads to secure the lining to the inside of the skirt + loops for the ribbon belt, but as of now that has not been done.

Dress finished (?) (how does it look beside the real rose basket now...?)

Unfortunately, I feel like I'm not entirely satisfied with how this turned out because although I had tried hard (especially at the beginning) to have clean work, as the project went along I think a lot of places ended up sloppy (like stitching lines on the inside), and the final piece still didn't end up exactly like the original (the bodice seems to be a little shorter somehow but I had no extra fabric especially along the side panels to make it longer, so I think it's a point that I can eventually accept).

Anyway...to finish off I finally add the lacing ribbons and prepare the detachable ribbons.

For the bows + ribbon belt, I have a length of cotton satin ribbon and finished off the bow brooches I started previously. For whatever reason, mint rose basket has burberry material bows, but I believe all the other colourways use sateen bows so I used cotton sateen for these. The original wine dress did come with a long, wide poly satin ribbon and two detachable small ribbons, but I have no idea where I put those relative to the dress and I didn't really like the way they looked anyway.

I took my old handmade bows apart to fix their dimensions (they were slightly too long) and also fixed how the middle fabric was folded, and then sewed them to some nice sharp brooch backs.

While ironing, I noticed that apparently I didn't rinse the fabric well after dying and adding water made the bows bleed. Not great. (I later soaked them in dye fixative and the bleeding issue seems to be better now)

These pictures use the bows from my Valeria JSK (which seem to be approximately the same wine tone), but it's always nice to have a separate set for each dress. I may remake yet another set of bows with a different cotton satin (slightly thinner, not self-dyed) eventually.

Finished, or at least as finished as things are going to get for now.

As I will be wearing this JSK in future outfits, I'm a bit torn as to how I will tag and label it in posts. The design for sure is Mary Magdalene's, and this dress is a big tribute to it, but it's also definitely handmade and not legitimate MM. I'm actually not even confident about labeling it handmade by myself because I didn't technically hand make all 100% of it (at this point, only the initial cutting out of pieces was not my own, but somehow this lack of initial patterning and cutting step bothers me and makes me feel like I didn't put in all the work a handmade piece usually would be). I will probably have a hard time not adding some additional comments each time it comes to adding a label to it in future photos.

Anyways, now I have Rose Basket at home.

Thank you if you read all the way to the end like this!

[fanged-fanfics]

Can I request headcannons for transformers x gn human reader who said they could hold their whole world in their hands then gently cupping their face?

☆ The World In Your Palm — Transformers x GN Human Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Features Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Starscream, Soundwave, and Megatron

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Optimus

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Can you now? That's quite the goal"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He thinks it's another cute little human idea initially. A bit of a naive one maybe, but most earth ideas for "shooting for the stars" always confused him a bit. He also sort of sums it up to a hyperbole and doesn't ask much more about it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Until you offer to show him. That gets his attention. Humans are capable of incredible feats, yes, but how were you planning to prove such a thing? Much more visibly confused, he leans down like you ask him to

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As soon as your palms cup his cheekplates, he's even more bewildered. After thinking about it for a second, he chuckles, leaning into your touch as he uses a large hand to pull you a little closer. "That's very clever" he says with a smile "looks like I can hold the world in my hand too"

Ratchet

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Uh..huh. Good luck with that"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Completely doesn't understand the setup. The whole world?? This one? The giant ball in space holding billions of people? What's that supposed to mean? He assumes you're trying to bait him into a joke or something

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Then you ask him to lean down, and he's even more lost. If this is some sort of practical joke you'd learned from others, he wasn't excited for the outcome. But because it's you, he trusts it, bringing his face close enough for you to reach

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands cup his face, he's even more lost. He runs the situation over again in his heads a few times before it actually lands. He acts exasperated to cover up how flustered he is, lightly patting your head. "You humans, I swear... cute trick, kid"

Bumblebee

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh yeah? Go ahead, try, I wanna see it"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's amused at the idea. He knows you're likely not being literal, but he wants to see where it goes. He's had a lot of fun learning human jokes so far, what's one more to the list?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down as soon as you asked, excited to see the expected punchline. He can't exactly see where it's going yet, but knowing you he hopes for the best and waits expectantly

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands land on his face, he has to take a second to get it. There's a bit of a 'is that... it?' moment where he's still waiting for the joke. Then it clicks all at once, and he gains a very obvious blush on his face. He cups his hands around your head, grinning widely "Well I can hold my whole world in just one hand! Beat that"

Starscream

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ha! That bold, are you? Is there no end to your feeble little plans?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He sounds a little mean about it, but it's just his usual teasing. Sort of in a 'that's nice honey' kind of way. He of course argues that if anyone is fit to carry the world, it would be him, obviously

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It takes some convincing to get him to kneel down. He pretends like he's oh so busy and has so many important things to do, but inevitably gives in and indulges your whims

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The second your hands reach his face, he gets it immediately. He stammered a bit, chuckling as he tried to brush it off. He didn't want it to be so obvious that something so small could fluster him, but he couldn't help it around you. "Ahem- well- you're very brave for being so forward! But I suppose I can allow you to hold on for a moment longer"

Soundwave

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Improbable. The world is too big for human hands"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Takes your words at direct face value. He's trying to be honest and let you down easy. He's got no idea how you somehow convinced yourself you were strong enough to pull that off, but he feels like he has to bring you back to reality

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's only confused when you ask him to come closer. What does this have to do with your claim? He leans down of course, but he doesn't understand what's happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands hold his face, he just pauses. He's about to correct you, but before the words can fully leave his mouth, he realizes what you're trying to say. He sighs from his vents as he holds onto your wrists. "I see. I.. can hold the world in mine, too"

Megatron

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Aiming big, aren't we? Your time will come"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He indulges your comment. He's promised you the world, everything his servos can carry. Of course it'll all be yours someday, he'll make sure of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down at your request, though he of course asks what you're planning. He can tell by your little grin whenever you've got something brewing in your head, but he allows it for the sake of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He catches on the second you hold his face, and he chuckles in amusement. "Ah, that's what you meant" he said, leaning into the embrace "clever... for a human" he teases lightly

[utilitycaster]

Mighty Nein: specifically avoided enlistment or aid to the Dwendalian Empire during the early days of the War of Ash and Light. Beau and Caleb, despite growing up within the Empire and despite Caleb's earlier indoctrination in his youth both took a skeptical view towards its policies. Despite extensive propaganda towards the Kryn Dynasty, the party let a drow go early on and later traveled into the Dynasty and frankly did so with even less regard to caution than was legitimately warranted. They not only returned the stolen beacon that was part of the inciting incident; they spent their time in Rosohna engaging in good faith with the culture, and pretty soon developed a team goal to end the war and bring peace between the Empire and dynasty. The party also, in addition to having a strong and consistent theme of forgiving themselves (notably, Yasha, Caleb, and Veth) forgave a number of others or gave them a second chance. This is most prominent with Essek, but notably, they made a good faith effort to find Molly within Lucien and only began outright hostility when he threatened to leave one of them behind and took advantage of their hospitality and stole their shit, and even then they spent the entire last fight trying to reach him even when it was clear he was gone. They tried to resurrect Molly once Lucien was killed, and gave life to someone new in the process. They also left Trent alive not just out of mercy for him but because holding a trial would ensure the dissolution of the volstrucker program. Significant NPCs such as Astrid, the Gentleman, and Marion, as well as PCs like Calianna explore this sentiment of the potential for change and growth; Reani serves to illustrate the benefit of developing a more nuanced and generous viewpoint.

Now, this was obviously a shitpost as neoconservative is a highly specific ideology, and my post was heavily influenced by this remark of Empire propaganda being reflective of both the current US attacks on Iran and that in turn being in many ways inextricably linked from the neoconservative, imperialist and interventionist foreign policy of the GWB administration. I think that to be fair, Ludinus is the neoconservative, and Bells Hells are much more "median American voters in 2004", falling for the following arguments:

A genuinely tragic event and world-changing event with major loss of life is treated as justification to depose and kill the powers that supported this action, with little regard to extensive collateral damage (obviously, Ludinus is pretend and his war crimes in-game are also pretend, however, this is a useful reading)

Said efforts are in many ways the heir to earlier action against said powers (the 2003 Gulf War being in many ways people wanting another go at the region following the 1992 Gulf War; Ludinus's idolizing of Age of Arcanum ambitions towards killing the gods)

Generally, an interventionalist attitude propagandized as "liberators" without actually spending time interacting with people on the ground (see: the only civilians vaguely in support of this are in Hearthdell, and even they lost more lives to leyline fuckery than they did to the priests of Pelor until they attacked said priests; Bells Hells talked to very few people in Kreviris). can you say Operation Exandrian Freedom.

Bush-era neoconservativism, when you strip out the Earth-specific items (US unilateralism, emphasis on action in Western Asia) was defined as binary good/evil worldview, low tolerance for diplomacy, readiness to use military force, and disdain for multilateral organizations; a better way to engage with the geopolitical attitude when dealing with a fantasy world is an Us vs. Them mentality. Bells Hells kind of abandoned their multilateral allies in a big way for a very US-feeling absolute individualism above-all which is not unique to conservativism, hence their (demotion? promotion) to just "2004 median voter". They also did kind of make a quagmire, and did sort of do a Mission Accomplished while leaving the region (ie, planet and moon) mostly a mess because they had no real plan going in, did not know what anything would do and didn't really consider implications and got mad at the people who brought them up.

The rehabilitative, pro-cultural exchange anti-war Mighty Nein vs the neoconservative Bells Hells

[penn-dragon]

Hey Penn I wanted to ask you some questions about Zosan:

1: Who feel In love First?

2: Why did Zoro or Sanji feel in love with the other?

I also wanted to say that I Love your artstyle its unique and beautyful. Hope your doing well and keep on the great Work!!

Hell yeah I’ll talk about zosan, also thank you so much!!

1. Zoro definitely fell in love first, or at the very least he acknowledges that he’s in love first. Zoro’s very straightforward and doesn’t question himself the way Sanji does so once he realizes what he’s feeling he’s just kind of like “I guess this is what we’re doing now.” It’s his first time falling in love so there’s a lot of complex emotions that come with that, but he’s not going to waste time lying to himself about it.

Sanji on the other hand is the runner track star of “can’t catch me, gay thoughts!!” He’s spent a long time suppressing the parts of himself he thinks are wrong so he doesn’t even notice it at first. Falling in love with Zoro really sneaks up on him. Sanji is very used to love burning hot and fast. He was unprepared to comprehend what it feels like when love creeps up on you and you suddenly find yourself looking at someone you’ve known for a while and where you think you should find annoyance all you feel is fondness. That TERRIFIES HIM. And he runs from that feeling for a good while before he finally accepts it.

2. Zoro LOVES having someone that pushes him to be better. There’s a reason his most significant relationship before the Straw Hats was the girl he desperately wanted to surpass. Zoro’s at his best when he has someone who challenges him every day. Sanji keeps him on his toes and their fights and their rivalry encourage him to always be better than he was yesterday. He loves that they fight, he loves that he has to go all out. The only other person who matches his strength is Luffy, but Luffy likes to roughhouse more than he likes to spar, it doesn’t have the same intensity. He loves that sometimes he kicks Sanji’s ass, sometimes he gets his ass kicked, and sometimes they’re deadlocked until they’re both sprawled out bruised and exhausted on the deck. He wants to fight with Sanji for the rest of their damn lives.

He also loves how kind Sanji is. Zoro himself isn’t unkind, but he’s not overly interested in going out of his way to help someone if it conflicts with his own self interest. But Sanji would give a stranger the shirt off his back and the food out of his mouth without being asked, and while Zoro doesn’t really understand it he recognizes it as a fundamental part of what makes Sanji Sanji.

Sanji loves how Zoro seems so stoic and hard on the outside but he’s really such a big teddy bear once you take the time to get to know him. Sanji’s known too many powerful men who leveraged that power to oppress the people around them, but Zoro isn’t like that. He’s strong enough to take down insanely powerful enemies but he lets his crew mates pick on him with only half-hearted threats everyone knows he wouldn’t follow through on. Zoro relishes a good fight, but he’s not needlessly cruel. He’s not the kind of man who would pick on those weaker than him to make himself feel strong.

He also loves how direct Zoro is. Sanji has a tendency to overthink and run himself in circles and oftentimes Zoro will interrupt his spiraling by saying something blunt and honest that Sanji wasn’t expecting because he just… hasn’t known a lot of people like that. He appreciates that (once they sort all their shit out) he doesn’t have to guess if Zoro is being straightforward with him. Zoro doesn’t say one thing when he means another, he doesn’t see the point in dancing around things, and that directness is something Sanji values. Zoro is solid, he’s an anchor for the entire crew. Sanji is the sky Zoro admires and Zoro is the earth that keeps Sanji grounded. (And Luffy is the sun that gives them both light and life.)

He also thinks Zoro is hot.. like really really hot. Stupidly hot it’s actually unfair how hot he is. He’s always allowed himself to admit that Zoro is objectively a good looking man, but once he admits he has feelings for him it’s like the floodgates open and he has to squint when he looks at him or he’ll get mad about how hot he is and then make it Zoro’s problem lmao

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain

↳ chapter 7

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: vomit, violence, mean words are said to our omega in this chapter(not by the pack), a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: remember my ask box is always open for questions about this story and as always, please enjoy this chapter :)

One of the harder parts of staying with the pack was times like this, during the day when members are out at work or living life. Of course, you were never alone, the omegas don’t have jobs though they do go out as they please, and the rest of the pack has purposely arranged their schedules so that at least one pack member above an omega is home with you guys at any given time. It’s a nice setup, you'll admit, but you feel useless. To be fair you never went out much when you lived with your old alpha but you were always cooking and cleaning to please him, you were never not busy. So that’s how you got here. Trying so hard to be useful you decided to clean up a bit instead you just made a bigger mess. You were moving on from putting the dishes in the dishwasher to cleaning the countertops when you got a whiff of the cleaning solution smell and immediately you felt the familiar sickness feeling, If you were a cartoon character you would physically be green right now. Now that you’re out of the first trimester the morning sickness should have subsided, and to be fair it wasn’t as bad as it was in the beginning but it was definitely still making itself comfortable in your life. At your last appointment, you asked the doctor about it and she said this was probably something to do with your already above-average sense of smell for an omega. At the same time, you could still get sick randomly due to your changing body, and smells would be your biggest enemy. But it was normal and that’s all that mattered to you anyway, though right now you kind of wish it wasn’t. The strong smell of vinegar and lemon is the perfect combination to kick your sickness into overdrive. Before you could even gag or process the situation you’d already thrown up all over yourself. With closed eyes you could feel your body begin to tremble, a familiar vibrating feeling that could only be accompanied by a panic attack. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sob, too afraid to make yourself any more noticeable, your body lets out soft whimpers from your quivering lip instead. Before you can even think of how to make your escape to the bathroom to clean yourself up you have to clean up the mess you made on the floor first. It's not a lot but it would be easier to clean up if the cleaning solution wasn’t making you gag even more. You don’t hear Changbin come down the stairs and enter the kitchen through the ringing in your ears.

“Y/N? I heard your whimpering and ran down here. What happ-“ Changbin cuts himself off at the sight of you all on the floor covered in your own vomit.

“It’s fine! I’m almost done cleaning it up, don't worry, I’m sorry I was just trying to help. fuck! Why can’t I help?” Your rambling is halted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay bunny. Just breathe.” As you look into his eyes you feel a sense of peace, like a gentle reminder that yes you can breathe, it’s okay.

“Good, now let me.” With one fell swoop, he picks you up bridal style and begins to walk away from the kitchen.

“Changbin, what the hell are you doing? I said I could handle it.”

“I know you could, but as your alpha, I can’t let you. Like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, let’s get you cleaned up!”

Changbin carries you all the way to the upstairs bathroom and places you down on the toilet seat and turns around to head out of the bathroom.

“I’ll get you some clothes and then you can shower!” Changbin leaves but not before giving you one of his signature cutesy smiles that almost makes you sick from how sweet it is. The alphas here confused you, hell the whole pack confused you, but Changbin especially makes your head spin. His personality was very cute and sweet which is an insane juxtaposition to his buff frame. He easily has the biggest muscles you’d ever seen, it was kind of comforting when it wasn’t scary. Changbin returns and places the clothes on the counter.

“I grabbed you some comfy warmer clothes, thought maybe it’d help soothe you.” Changbin seems unsure, you’d think this was his first time caring for an omega.

“Thank you.” and with a nod the alpha leaves you to take your shower. The water feels like it does more than just wash away your sickness but it feels like your emotions are physically leaking from your body. You watch the water run down your small bump, placing a gentle hand there as unease settles deep in your bones. If you can’t do something as simple as clean up what’s the point? How can you take care of a whole life?

You step out of the shower with a shiver, trying to get dried off and dressed as quickly as possible. As you put on the clothes Changbin picked out for you, the last item stops you in your tracks. A hoodie, but not just any hoodie, it’s his. The smell of firewood penetrates your nose and your pupils dilate. Without a word, you put on his hoodie to allow the smell to engulf you, just like it’s supposed to. Leaving the bathroom you’re greeted by the muscular alpha who now has a shocked expression. He waited for you. And god is he glad he did. The sight of you in his hoodie, covered in his scent makes him dizzy. So he waits no time to pull you back into the bathroom with him, standing behind you as you both stand in front of the mirror. Wordlessly he picks up the hairbrush and begins brushing your hair, It feels domestic, but you don’t run.

“This is your hoodie.” You speak, not really knowing if it’s a question or a statement.

“Felix told us about how alpha scents really help with your nausea, you didn’t have to wear it, I just wanted to help.” He smiles almost as softly as he brushes through your hair. You don’t miss how he brushes his nose across the top of your head, taking in your milky cherry scent.

Changbin’s heart swells with pride as his alpha howls in his head at the display in front of him. A pupped omega wearing his scented hoodie allowing him to groom you, His pupped omega, he internally corrects himself. He leads you down to the living room and he stops you from going into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I got it all cleaned up. Let’s relax now.” The alpha takes your hand leading you to the large couch letting you pick your spot before he sits next to you.

“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong, why you were cleaning up even though it was making you sick?” Your eyebrows furrow, and embarrassment floods your body once again.

“I feel useless and lazy. I don’t do anything, I don’t clean, I don’t cook, I don’t work, even though these are all things I can do with no issue. I don’t even go outside now, I’m becoming a slob.” Changbin’s heart breaks at your words, but understanding you just want some independence, some of your normal back.

“We can go out today. Could be like a more casual courting date or not, whatever you’d like.”

“I appreciate your offer but I don’t need your pity.” The alpha scoffs and your assumption of him.

“I don’t pity you, I care about you. And I want to hang out with you. Hyunjin can stay here with Han and Felix while we go out, it’ll be fun. No pressure.” Changbin gives you a hopeful smile, if he looks closely he feels like he can see a small crack forming in your wall.

“Okay, where would we go?” You don’t look at the alpha, afraid maybe he’d change his mind.

“We can go do some grocery shopping, you can help me!” Changbin emphasized the word help, as to soothe your worries.

“Really? I could help you pick out food for the pack?” You look up at Changbin with wide hopeful eyes, and his heart almost explodes.

“Yeah, we can go right now! Get your shoes on and I’ll go let the guys know we’re leaving.” He smiles before he retreats to the pack den where the pack members reside. You sit with your thoughts for a moment before releasing a contented sigh. Maybe things were looking up.

At the grocery store, Changbin pushed the cart with one hand and had the pack’s grocery list pulled up on his phone in the other. The list was split into sections, one for each pack member’s personal requests and a section for stuff for the whole house. You had a nice rhythm going on, where he guides you both through the store and tells you what to put in the cart. Though he can’t help but notice you don’t seem to be interested in grabbing anything for yourself, and they haven’t had a chance to add a you section to the grocery list quite yet. As you two made your way down a snack aisle he took notice of how you stopped in front of the milk drinks.

“I think I saw something about some sort of juice on Han’s list. What was it?” In all honesty, you don’t remember if anyone mentioned juice, you can’t think at all your mouth is watering at the sight of the banana milk. You recently started developing cravings, which weren’t weird, yet. Your mind was so used to not wanting things, you didn’t find yourself craving anything until you saw it. Sort of like love at first sight but with various cookies, rice cakes… and banana milk, as your brain had so kindly decided now. This wasn’t odd for you, you’d always liked banana milk but this was different. You didn’t want it, you needed it. This grocery trip was for them, you wouldn’t dare make this about yourself. And that’s where a gentle alpha’s encouragement comes in.

“Oh I love banana milk, should we get some?” You both share a knowing glance, though Changbin’s has an encouraging undertone.

“Maybe, maybe two packs would be good. Since there are so many of us.” The alpha is satisfied with your response, nodding at you to throw two packs into the car. Though Changbin wouldn’t dare let the pack take your cravings from you, he’d be sure to let them know not to touch them later.

“Is there anything else the puppy wants?” Changbin takes your peaceful sigh as an invitation to be just a little more direct, trying to get you comfortable with his care.

“Seaweed chips sound really yummy… and those matcha cookies Hyunjin likes.” You blush, not used to giving in to your own desires. Changbin doesn’t care though, he wastes no time finding the snacks you want. As you continue your shopping trip the alpha does a lot more of that, encouraging you to get stuff for yourself too, showing you that you deserve treats just like the pack does if not more since you’re carrying a pup as well.

The walk to the car feels bright, and internally you acknowledge the progress you made in the store, it feels nice. Changbin insists he be the one to load the bags in the car but you don’t get in the car, you wait patiently in case he changes his mind.

The smell hits you first, like a bullet train traveling faster than sound itself. You grab onto Changbin’s arm, your scent is rancid like spoiled milk, full of panic.

“What’s wrong?” Now Changbin’s scent is burnt, afraid that somehow you got hurt on his watch. Before you can tell Changbin how urgently you need to leave the voice hits your ears and you’re shocked you don’t pass out in pure fear, you remain frozen, which somehow feels worse.

“Would you look at this, surprised I found you slut?” The slurred voice from the alpha a mere five feet away from him and his babies causes Changbin to let out a growl.

“Who the hell are you?” You want to scream at Changbin to not say anything to just get you both in the car and run but you can’t, you scream but nothing comes out. Once again trapped in your own mind prison.

“I should be asking you the same, you’re playing around with my sloppy seconds.” It clicks immediately for Changbin, this is the man who hurt you, who kicked you out on the streets pregnant and alone. The next growl he lets out is nastier, more venomous.

“Come on Y/N, you think you can run away and wear another’s alpha’s clothes and expect me not to find you? You’re carrying my seed, not his. I always knew you were a whore, but you were my whore.” If your blood wasn’t cold before, it definitely was now. Everything in you screamed to run but you remained still. Your mind feels like a slurry of nasty thoughts, like you were right back in his grip, like you’d never be safe from him.

“I suggest you leave before I rip your throat out with my teeth.” Changbin keeps one arm behind him, within each of you, keeping you both safe from this monster. The way his hand is inches away from your stomach makes you hyper aware of the pup growing inside it.

Alphas hurt pups. Our pup is in danger. Do something.

Your omega screams in your head but you don’t move, useless as always.

“Pfft her hole’s not even that good. She’s used goods pal.” The arrogant alpha slurs and it lights a fire within Changbin, nobody speaks about the people he loves like that. He lunges at the alpha determined to make those words his last, he punches him so hard that you can hear a loud crack. The alpha falls to the ground, unconscious. Changbin immediately ushers you into the car and drives away from the scene. You don’t speak, you don’t cry, you’ve completely disassociated. Staring in front of you out the windshield you think about how you got here. A lot of your first week with this pack was spent scared he would find you, but things were getting better, you had almost forgotten this was even possible. Changbin tries to comfort you the entire ride home but it’s like you’ve left your own body. His alpha cries for him to do something, to help his omega but nothing works.

When he pulls into the garage at home you immediately bolt out of the car and head straight to your room. At the sound of the door slamming and locking, everyone knew this was going to be a hurdle. But they were all willing to fight for you… literally in some cases.

[princessbumbles-blog]

ꪮꪊ᥅ ᦓꪻꪖ᥅ᦓ

ᴡʟғ!Aʙʙʏ × ʙᴇsᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content: fluff; Friends that like each other but are too dumb; Abby and more Abby

June, 2039

Pt. 3 - Afections

You were sitting on your rooms floor, Your back against your unmade bed, feeling your hands shake slightly against your will, when the door opened and closed.

"Dumbass" Abby's voice reaches you, together with her strong footsteps.

She went down those couple of stairs to your side of the room and stopped, staring at you.

"Did you really need to hide in here?"

She is joking, using that usual voice tone for moments when she is unsure about what to do.

"What happened?"

You really didn't want to speak, not because you were mad but because it felt like torture to make a sound. Any vibration seemed to make your anxiety worse.

"The usual" you manage to say.

"Which one"

"Don’t make me talk, Abby" you ask and the silence lingers.

You focus your eye's attention on the animals down there through the window in front of you. You loved them, the cows and the shep, they were so simple yet sometimes difficult to deal with, but it was the kind of trouble you feel grateful for having.

If nature is your biggest problem then your life is good.

"Nick told me you were out there and..."

"Maybe I should change positions" You interrupt her "And work on the farms"

Abby frowns. "You would hate cleaning their shit," she smiles, trying to strike one in you.

But It doesn't work.

"Better then having to kill a fucking kid" you say, in a monotonous voice tone.

You feel Abby's eyes on you, waiting for more explanation, but you can't, so you just bite the inside of your cheek.

"So, Nick said you encountered Scars and it all went to shit" Abby says "What happened?"

"Nothing"

"Why don’t you talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to!" You raise your voice. "I dont want to remember what happened"

Abby notices your shaking hands and looks again into your eyes. Glossy. You want to cry, but, like usual, you are trying too hard to block it.

She crosses her arms in front of your chest. "Get up"

You roll your eyes.

"Get up" She insists "You know what's going to happen if you don't"

You sigh, annoyed, blurting a "for fuck's sake" before aggressively getting up from the floor.

"Here, happy?"

"{Your Name}...." She calls your name softly.

Your eyes avoid hers, looking everywhere. Your hands find your arms whose skin is picked by your nails, a sign that you are either nervous or anxious, maybe both. Abby keeps her eyes on you, knowing it will eventually break you.

It took a while to figure out how to make you open up to her, after a lot of insults from you. Abby hates it in some part, because she always cries like a baby in front of you, melting instantly, but you are built like a rock.

She wants to make you melt too, so she repeats your name, gently, again and again before she starts to see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You can tell me. You know that. I'm here" she says.

A knot forms in your throat. "I...hm...I...the kid tried to....you know" a tear falls "he tried to ....so I ...shot him. On the head"

More tears fall and you hug yourself, still avoiding your friend's eyes.

"Then my hands started to shake and I.....I lost it."

"You had a panick attack?"

You nood, fast, trying to controll the huge wave of tears that were threatening your voice.

"I killed a kid, Abby I...a fucking kid for fucks sake. I killed a boy" you start to rumble, scratching your arms like your skin was bothering you.

Abby's hands flew to your wrists "Hey, hey...I know, I know" and she squeezed them, pulling them off your arms. "I'm sorry that happened. It's alright, you didn’t mean it. Unfortunately, it is the most common thing around here."

"It shouldn't be"

"Yhea, but....think that maybe you did a favour to that kid. He is at peace now, and not hiding away with hammers and wars"

You swallow, anxiously trying to find some relief on Abby's words, but the sensations on your body where corrupting your thoughts, disseminating panic everywhere.

"I feel sick" you cry out.

"It is just the anxiety" Abby says, but she knows dam well your fear of vomit is something irrational and extremely overwhelming.

"I feel so sick, Abby ...I'm scared." Your hands began to shake again under Abby's grip. "I'm so scared....Abby....Abby.."

"Shhh, I know. Breath in and out, it is not real"

Your lower lip trembles. Fuck, it is so rare to see you like this, Abby's chest tightened.

"Abby..." your voice breaks "What if I..."

"Nothing is going to happen" She says, with a determined tone "Come here"

As you feel your friends arms around you, you let yourself cry out the panic. Abby smeels the same, pine, so familiar.

"Everything's fine, nothing is going to happen" She repeats like a mantra, just like her father used to say. Like she wished someone had done that to her after his death.

But now, she had someone she wanted to protect, and it gave her a sense of comfort.

The next day, Abby was at Isaac's office, frustrated.

"She is too good. We need strong soldiers out there, strong, " Isaac repeats himself.

"Fuck that" Abby says "She did enough. You have a lot of strong soliders. Put her on the farms, she will be useful"

For some reason, Abby couldn't bear the thought of you out there again, dealing with shit that had nothing to do with you and ending up like last night.

"She will remain on ground coverage, end of story"

"I can take her shifts!" The girl exclaims

But Isaac just sighs.

"Is this friendship going to bring me trouble?" He raises his voice "There’s already you and Owen. Now, this?"

Silence.

"You better focus on your responsibilities, Abby, or do I have to intervene? I need loyal soldiers, not brats. Are we clear?"

Abigail stares at him, feeling the anger rise up and down her chest.

"Yes, Sir"

She had no other option.

"Good."

It was unfair. So unfair. Abby walked down the hallway with strong steps, frowning so deeply that people moved out of her away faster than usual.

She never cared for the injustices of the system Isaac had put up, but she was alone before and her goal occupied all the space in her mind.

But now, you existed. Your friendship started as something casual but it developed to something stronger, even tho Abby didn’t like to admit it.

You became an essential part of her life, like you have always been there in the first place.

"Hey Abs," Owen's voice makes Abby stop on her tracks.

There is only two people on that place that call her by the nickname her father used with her: You and Owen.

Him because he always did, and you because you started using it naturally, with such care and happiness that it actually gave Abby some sense of familiarity she hadn't felt in years.

"Hey" Abby says, turning around.

He stared at her in silence for a couple of seconds. "Bad day?"

Abby sighs, nodding with her head. "Isaac's being a dick"

Owen scoffs. They walk together with their shoulders bumping on each other. Too close to Abby’s liking, but she can't resist.

"It really sucks," Owen says after hearing what happened to you.

"Yhea, I'm really scared for her"

"She's a big girl. I'm sure she will be able to handle herself"

"She will, but...He could give her a break. I don't understand why he refuses"

"I mean, no one should receive special treatment"

Abby looks at Owen with a frown. His words were too direct and too brutal.

"Why are you being so mean?" She asks, automatically stepping away from him.

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just understand that if Isaac starts making favours like these to everyone, people would take advantage of that. He needs to give everyone the same treatment and opportunities, and that's on us to manage it"

Abby keeps staring at him, up and down, judging his words, trying to understand if he was being serious.

"Gosh, don't look at me so suprised!" He complains, with a smile.

"For someone so liberal and unhappy with your life, you sounded like a true loyal fucking soldier" The big girl crosses her arms in front of her chest, making Owen roll his eyes.

"C'mon Abs, I may be unhappy, but that doesn’t mean that I don't understand what Isaac needs to do to maintain a place like this functioning"

"So it is okay to ignore his soldiers' struggles?"

"No, but keeping this perception in mind helps me to not freak out. Like, I'm the only one who can make my life easier. " He opens his arms a little, like it is the quote of the year,"Maybe it can help {your name} too"

The girl remains in silence, digesting it, while he observes her. It's been a while since they had spent proper time together.

"You two are inseparable now" He comments "Is she that good of a friend?"

"What type of a question is that?" Abby laughs.

"Is she better than me?" He teases, bumping his elbow on hers.

"You are such an idiot" Abby says, just a tease she always does to him...like old times.

"Alright, but answer me. Do I have competition?"

"Holy shit Owen " She takes some steps foward, challenging "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs. "Please. I know nobody is better then me"

"Careful, your girlfriend may interpret this wrong"

"Always using the girlfriend card, uh?"

Both let out some laughs, like old friends catching up. But it wasn’t like that.

Owen was feeling weird, he hated it, how jealous he actually was because before you, he was the only one deeply close to Abby, but suddenly you appeared out of nowhere.

He had a girlfriend. He liked her. He and Abby were past now, it didn't work. But he hated the feeling of losing Abby. He hated that maybe you making her feel the way he used to make her feel.

However, he doesn't really hate you. He actually respects you, for being able to crack Abby open.

"She's weird, in a good away" Abby says, quietly "she makes me feel less alien, and she is also cool to be around"

It was a very short version of what Abby could actually say, but she didn't feel comfortable telling Owen about it.

"Good. That's good, Abs"

Later, after work, Abby entered the cafeteria that was buzzing with voices and laughs. She approached the usual table with some food, sitting by your side.

"That's why there's no really true Americans" Manny was saying, with his mouth full of food.

"Of course. We all are a mix of communities ...or nationalities, if you want to call it like that." You speak, giving Abby a quick smile.

"But if you were born in America then you are American" Nick says, sitting by Manny's side.

Abby nooded to some people passing by. That place was full, a little unsual, but maybe it was summer lightning up people's modds.

"Yes, but we sre discussing the blood argument. Like, what the fuck does being a pure American mean? Being white and dumb? We are a mix of people from everywhere. Oh, we are descendents from...shut up. Even cow's shit goes on the equation" You argue, angrily shoving some rice into your mounth.

Abby arches her eyebrown. "What hell are you three talking about?"

"Your girl here is throwing her intellectual knowledge at us," Nick mocks you, throwing a bit of rice at your arm.

"I'm just communicating the facts," you defend yourself. "You know, some of us actually read books, not just patrol schedules. STOP THROWING THE RICE AT ME GOD DAMMIT!!"

Manny and Abby laugh. "We heard Robert say some problematic shit earlier," Manny says. "She is calling him a fascist," he points at you.

"And isn't he? Oh wait, Nick, do you know what a facist is?"

"You are so fucking funny, aren't you?"

Abby's gaze stays on you, admiring the smile adorning your face as you tease Nick. It was so good to see you alive again. Your version from last night had nothing to do with this fierce and stubborn girl. Your eyes were shinning.

When she turns her head back to her plate, she notices Manny staring with a grin.

"What?"

"Nothing"

After eating, Abby slapped your arm slightly, signaling for you to get up and get out of there.

"Are you sleeping on her room again?" Manny asks, making her look between him and Nick awkwardly.

"Yhea?"

"Just checking. If I'm lucky I will be able to bring that nurse with me tonight" He blinks at Nick who laughs proudly at his friend.

In your room, your roomate, Max, was already sleeping, so you and Abby layed down on your bed, reading your books in silence by the lamp's light on the bedside tables.

After half an hour, you two put away your books and turn the lights off, staying in the silence of the dark, laying on your sides, staring at each other.

"How was your day?" Abby whispers.

"Good, I guess. Maybe just normal. And yours?"

"Normal as well"

You lift your hand, tracing the sides of Abby’s arm, like you do so many times.

"Can I braid your hair tomorrow?" You ask

"Sure"

Your fingers dance on her skin, building that nice sense of comfort in Abby's chest. She closes her eyes for some seconds, enjoying the feeling.

You drag your hands up her face, tracing the lines of it with your fingertips, slowly, feeling every inch, every curve of her nose, every bit of texture. Then, you slip one finger over her lips and she is quick to bite you.

You laugh, covering your mouth with your other hand to muffle the sound.

"Idiot" you whispered, and the only thing in response was Abby's muffled laugh.

Suddenly Abby's fingers are on your face, doing the same thing. It was not the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. You two didn't know why you were doing it, it just felt too good to stop.

You closed your eyes as well, like if you focused enough, Abby could feel all the love you felt for her with her touch.

When her fingers reached your lips, Abigail was expecting some revengeful bite, instead, you kiss them, gently and lightly. She doesn't react, just stays there with her hand, and you kiss the knots on her fingers again, and again.

It was during nights like these, in the dark of your room, when the two of you would perform acts of affection, like it was natural. The limits of friendship didn't seem to exist, or maybe you two just didn't need it. Deep down, you wanted to share this kind of intimacy, and doing it with each other seemed...right? None of you judge the other, and together, you slowly explore, crossing the line step by step, without saying a word about it.

However, It was so confusing to you. On one hand, it happened too naturally and it felt too good to need to name it, but on the other hand, questions would rise.

Was this wrong?

Suddenly, you join your toungue, licking her fingers and making Abby pull them away. You muffled another laugh as Abby makes indignation sounds.

"Ew!!" She laughs "you are so dead"

You feel her hands grabbing you and her body coming closer so you scream silently, fighting Abby away but failing miserably, receiving her toungue licking your cheek in a pretty nasty way.

"Abigaillll!!!" You complain, using the sheets to clean your skin.

"Someone got what she deserved" she mocked you.

Abigail loved these nights, where she felt so free and careless. Without any pressure, any responsibilities or drama. It was just the two of you, laughing around, feeling good.

She never really questioned these acts of affection. At least not yet.

The two of you drifted into sleep, still tangled in the warmth that lingered after your playful clash.

In the morning, you woke up naturally, with your eyes opening slowly as though stirred by a breeze.

It was rare, but this morning, your body felt truly rested. Abby was still sleeping beside you, unmoved by the world, so you stayed still, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing.

Her hand, as always, had found its way towards you in slumber, reaching, half-curled, almost touching. Did she know her hand sought you, even in her sleep.

So, you took it quietly, weaving your fingers with hers, tenderly, careful not to wake her. Her hand was so broad, calloused by the weight of life’s demands, but still pale and oddly delicate in your grasp. You thought, for a heartbeat, about kissing her knuckles again, but the thought drew too much of the world back in, and so you stayed still.

Everything, in that moment, was perfect. Despite all the violence you had to face every day, Abigail somehow made it all feel distant.

You smirked quietly to yourself. Manny truly did deserve a life changing head in for bringing her into your orbit.

With a sigh, you nestled just a little closer, forehead resting against her shoulder and her hand still curled in yours, now resting gently against your chest.

It felt so good.

Suddenly, Abby’s body shifted in her sleep, rolling towards you, and in one smooth, unthinking motion, she wrapped herself around you, pulling you tight like a child clutching a stuffed toy.

You froze.

Never had the two of you slept like this before. It was… intimate in a way you hadn’t dared imagine.

But Abby didn’t stir beyond that so it must’ve been an accident. Of course it was.

You tried to shift but Abby weighed like a fallen tree so you surrendered with a sigh, already spiraling through the thoughts of how impossibly awkward this would be when she woke up. Yet the heat of her body was an inviting weight. Your eyes began to flutter closed not out of sleep, but surrender, and gently nestled your face against the curve of her neck.

God. She smelled so good. Like something sweet and quiet.

Like the smell of a newborn soft and innocent and warm. You knew that scent. You’d once held a baby in the maternity wing of the base. But Abby also smelled like sunlight.

You’d only seen the sea once, on a rare warm morning where the waves met a meadow strewn with tiny white flowers the kind used in chamomile tea, you’d later learned.

She was that exact memory: brightness and breeze. And here you were, face buried against her skin, drowning in the scent of home.

Minutes passed like mist. Then, slowly, Abby stirred.

Still heavy with sleep, she shifted. Her brow furrowed faintly when she realized her arms were around something. She looked down and found you tucked there, but she didn’t jolt or pull away. She just yawned, adjusted her limbs, and let her eyes fall closed again.

How could this not mean something to her?

“Good morning,” she mumbled, voice cracked with sleep.

“Good morning,” you whispered into her neck.

“Sorry. Rolled right over you.”

“It’s fine.”

She shifted again, the weight of her arm draping back over you. “You’re so warm,” she said not annoyed, “I should get up, but you’re making it really hard.”

You laughed, though something cold unspooled in your belly. “You’re the one who tried to smother me in your sleep.”

At that, Abby deliberately collapsed her full weight on top of you just long enough to make your heart spike in panic. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she rolled away and sat up, leaving you alone under the sheets.

She stretched, her long, sun-worn hair cascading down her back.

“Have you been having any nightmares?” you asked.

“Nope,” she replied casually, already rummaging for her usual pants.

“So I’m officially anti-nightmare,” you teased, making Abby turn to shoot you a playful grimace.

Once dressed, she ran her fingers through her hair in a quick sweep. “Weren’t you supposed to braid this?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Come here.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, and you moved behind her, kneeling, your fingers already parting strands with practiced care. You started the tight, perfectly symmetrical braid she wore every day, and if done wrong, could break the day before it even began.

You day unrolled separately. Isaac wanted to catch up with you, witch made Abby nervous, while she was sent to the medical wing to help to carry boxes of new found stuff.

It was boring, but definitely better then going outside. She was not in a mood for that.

"So, how's the married life been?" Max, your roomate, asked.

Max was a very versatile girl. She could be doing anything. Teaching children how to read, fixing the jeeps or helping with an amputation. Somehow, she had multiple jobs, and today she was giving a hand together with Abigail.

"What?"

"I'm just kidding," She smiles. "I just noticed you have been sleeping a lot in our room"

Abby puts down a box with a loud bang. "Yhea, I mean, It is better then sleeping in the same space as Manny"

Manny was always the best excuse.

"Mhm, I see. If I had a very close friend I would probably have sleepovers every night as well. I guess I understand"

Abby noods, hoping it to be the end of the conversation. Oh, but she does't know Max.

"Actually" She goes again, opening a box and taking a bag of something Abby doesn't pay attention to "I can't spend that much time with my friends, I always need some alone time to recharge, ya know? However....I don't mind being with my booboo everyday"

"Your what??" Abby blinks, confused.

Max laughs. "Your face is so funny. Booboo is what I call my....crushes? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Romantic interests? My special person? You know, that one person we can't get enough of"

The way Max is smiling, like she knows something or is accusing Abby of something she can't quite grasp.

"Right...yhea...I guess" Abby says, not sure what to say or even think.

"Don’t you get tired of {your name}?"

"Hum...No?"

After putting down one more box, Abby realizes Max's smile is even bigger.

"You are acting crazy, dude" Abby notes, looking her up and down. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Do you know {your name} likes girls?"

"What the...yes, I do, Max"

"Hmh. I'm just checking. I have had some friends like that too, you know, close friends. But we always ended up making out"

And with that piece of information, she grabs some medical stuff and turns around, happily disappearing through a door.

Abby stayed behind, frozen in place, realizing just now what Max was trying to imply.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

Note: It's been hard to express my ideas into English. Sorry if some parts are more developed than others. And sorry for the mistakes.

@lia-winther

[applepiiex]

your fics are amazing, I’m happy to have found a fluffy m!reader writer.

I am requesting some sort of fluffy fic with toji fushiguro! Something with college student reader, and older bf toji and baby megumi. Like. Im js thinking of toji pulling up to reader’s campus with megumi in his arms and nobody would suspect that reader is dating the big strong dilf waiting at the front gates ><

🐯anon<3

CAMPUS CRUSH ! ! !

Toji Fushiguro x Male!Reader

College is hard enough without your terrifyingly hot secret boyfriend showing up on campus with a baby strapped to his chest like the world's scariest diaper ad. Especially when that boyfriend is Toji Fushiguro, ex-hitman vibes, muscle daddy body, and a very clear “do not approach” aura. You’re trying to stay under the radar. He’s walking around in broad daylight like a walking scandal. And now half your bio lab thinks he’s your brother. You're never going to live this down.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. But you still nearly drop your iced coffee when you spot him standing like a brick wall among the flow of students trickling through the university gates.

Toji Fushiguro is impossible to miss. He’s taller than half your professors, broader than any linebacker on the school team, and meaner-looking than the security guards who stalk the parking lots at night. There’s something about him that says don’t even try me — the scar over his lip, maybe, or the way he’s never quite relaxed unless he’s got you underneath him or Megumi snoring against his chest.

You don’t mean to stare, but how could you not? He’s a force of nature against a backdrop of backpacks and chatter. Some students glance up, startled, most keep walking, but you hear it in their whispers.

“Is he a cop?” “No way. Look at his arms. He’s gotta be like, ex-military or something.” “Wait, is that a baby?”

It’s kind of hilarious. Toji’s eyes flick around lazily, ignoring the double-takes. He looks more like a bodyguard than someone’s dad — except for the tiny boy curled against his chest, socked feet peeking out from the sling Toji grudgingly lets you use when you scold him for carrying Megumi like a grocery bag.

You spot the security guard hovering by the front desk inside the gatehouse, half-hiding behind the glass door and pretending not to stare. He must be wondering if he needs to call campus police.

You pause at the top of the steps leading down to the main quad, blinking at the sight of your big, terrifying boyfriend standing under the shade of an old oak, cradling his tiny son like the world’s softest threat. Megumi is knocked out cold, cheeks pink, a small hand bunched in the front of Toji’s black tee.

A girl next to you sighs dreamily. “Oh my god, he’s so hot. Is that his baby? That’s so cute…”

You bite back a laugh and press your straw to your lips to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks. Yeah. He is hot. And that is his baby. And, god help you, that big man is yours, too. The same one who kisses you stupid in your shoebox apartment, who sometimes stays awake just to watch you study until 2AM, who tries and fails to keep Megumi’s sticky fingers out of your notebooks.

He catches you staring before you can school your face. His eyes flick up, sharp at first, then softening so fast it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You hurry down the steps, ignoring the way a few heads turn. It’s broad daylight and you’re not supposed to do this here, but he’s here, and you haven’t seen him since you left his bed this morning, late for class.

“Toji,” you hiss, but it comes out embarrassingly happy. He raises an eyebrow, smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

You almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

When you reach him, Toji clocks your flushed cheeks immediately. “What’s with the face? You sick or somethin’?”

You jab him in the ribs carefully, so you don’t jostle Megumi. “People are staring, Toji. You couldn’t text me first?”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I texted. You didn’t answer.”

“Because I was in class—!”

You cut off when a pair of girls you recognize from your bio lab walk past. They both slow down, eyes widening as they take in the entire picture: you, college boy in a hoodie with your backpack half-zipped; Toji, six foot something and built like a nightmare; and the small lump of a baby snoozing obliviously in a carrier against all that muscle.

One of the girls nudges the other. “Hey, Y/N! Who’s this?”

You clear your throat. “Uh, this is...um…”

Before you can finish, Toji’s mouth twitches into a grin that never means anything good. “Older brother,” he drawls, leaning closer to you on purpose. His breath ghosts your ear: Play along.

“Oh! Wow, I didn’t know you had family visiting!” The second girl giggles, covering her mouth. “Your nephew is so cute!” Toji’s eyes glitter with mischief. He bounces Megumi slightly, just to make him sigh in his sleep, and the girls all but melt on the spot.

“Cute, huh?” Toji murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “You think I’m cute too, sweetheart?”

Your ears burn so bad you’re certain they’re red. “Haha, okay, we’re gonna go! Bye!” you say, grabbing Toji’s arm and dragging him toward the parking lot.

The girls giggle behind you, whispering too loud for comfort, “He’s so hot, oh my god, your friend’s brother is so hot—”

When you round the corner away from sight, you shove his arm, careful not to wake Megumi. “Brother? Seriously?”

Toji’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. He dips his head so his forehead bumps yours for just a second. “Shoulda said daddy, huh?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, horrified, and hiss, “We are on campus.”

He grins behind your palm, all teeth and that same dangerous warmth you love too much. He lets you cover his mouth until your hand slides away, then catches your fingers and kisses your knuckles instead. Rough lips, gentle promise. “You gonna say hi to your favorite boy, or just stand there droolin’ over me?”

You don’t bother answering. You slip close, brushing your hand over Megumi’s soft hair first, he makes a sleepy noise but doesn’t wake, and then you let your knuckles linger on Toji’s forearm. He feels warm under your fingers, solid and real and safe in a way you wish you could wear openly.

“He wouldn’t nap at home,” Toji says, pretending he’s annoyed, but the way his arm shifts so Megumi’s head stays tucked under his chin betrays him. “Thought you’d do the trick.”

“Oh, I see how it is. I’m the emergency pacifier.” “You said it, not me.”

You flick his side lightly, but he catches your wrist before you can retreat. He holds it for a second longer than he should, just enough to feel your pulse flutter. Then he lets go with a grunt, as if you’re the one making this harder than it has to be.

You can feel eyes on you, a couple students are definitely whispering. No one here knows. You like it that way. Better for your grades, better for his peace of mind, better for Megumi’s future. But there’s a small, traitorous part of you that aches to drop your bag, press your mouth to Toji’s throat, and say yes, he’s mine. He tilts his head at the parking lot. “C’mon. He’ll wake up if you keep standin’ around lookin’ pretty and getting attention.“

Your heart does a flip at pretty especially in that rough voice, but you roll your eyes and let him steer you toward his battered old car.

In the car, Megumi stays asleep through the soft click of his car seat straps. Toji watches you adjust the buckles, pretending he doesn’t melt a little every time you brush the kid’s hair out of his eyes.

You settle into the passenger seat, backpack stuffed between your knees. The cab smells like him: faint cologne, clean sweat, the lingering scent of the gas station coffee he lives on. He leans over to tug your seatbelt across your chest, an excuse, really, to bury his nose in your neck for half a second.

“Toji—” “Shut up. Missed you.”

It’s so quiet, so casual, and yet it punches you right in the ribs. He pulls back before you can respond, palm sliding up your throat just once before he grips the wheel instead.

He drives with one hand, other arm resting out the open window. You watch him more than the passing traffic. You’re pretty sure he knows.

“You gonna tell me why you really came?” you ask when he pulls into a quieter street, lined with trees and old houses.

Toji snorts. “Kid wouldn’t sleep. And I figured you’d be hungry by now.”

You groan, you are hungry. He always knows.

“Could’ve just called.” “Yeah. But then I wouldn’t get to see that dumb look on your face when you see me, huh?”

You glare, but he’s right. He’s always right. You swallow the warmth blooming in your chest and reach over the console to squeeze his thigh in retaliation.

“Jerk,” you mumble. “Mmhm. Yours though, ain’t I?”

He parks outside your tiny apartment. You juggle your bag and Toji’s huge palm resting on the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs like he’s done a hundred times.

Inside, he kicks the door shut with his boot and sighs when you pull him down for a kiss. Megumi snuffling softly between you both, oblivious. Your textbooks are scattered across the couch, but Toji ignores them. He sinks into your cushions with Megumi nestled in his lap, eyes drifting shut the moment he feels your fingers comb through his hair.

“Nap with us,” he murmurs against your palm.

You do. Books forgotten, coffee gone watery on the table. There’s only warm skin, the soft baby breaths of Megumi curled against his father’s chest, and Toji’s big hand curved possessively around the back of your neck like he’s daring the world to take this away.

No one would ever guess. But you know. And you’re never giving it up.

By the time you reach the parking lot, you swear every student who saw is going to spend the next week trying to guess exactly who the scary hot guy with the baby is. You kinda like that no one will ever guess the truth. That later tonight, you’ll be asleep on that same big chest, baby Megumi snoring softly at your side, exactly where you belong.