#sweet-star-storybook

[rinnstars]

third’s times the charm!

in which you try to confess three times before rin finally understands your feelings

itoshi rin x reader : mainly just fluff, a bit of angst of readers part, no proofreading + likes n reblogs r rlly appreciate ily <3

rin has always been an enigma, as if hes from another world - an alien like figure on your life yet a constant, like an orbit from another galaxy orbiting around you. slowly, youve grown fond of him and suddenly, its no longer just a friendahip - your heart is pumping weirdly, your palms are sweaty, your throat goes dry the second youre beside him (which is most of the time but hey!) maybe its part of growing up, you tell yourself, but deep down this is the “love” you’ve seen in storybooks, manga, movies. denial is always the first thing, avoiding rin during break times, opting to go with your other class friends. eventually, you fall back to the same routine, beside him for lunch in class, stealing the candies he brought (specially for you, he wants to confess but he doesnt.) and of course with love, the next step should be confession as all fourteen year olds rationalise, and thus began your attempt at rizzing confessing to itoshi rin who has become your star.

#1 —VALENTINE CHOCOLATE?!

as all mangas and love story dictates: a gift during valentine practically screams a love confession, if not already hinted by the hearts clumsily pasted onto the heart-shaped box containing your own hand-made chocolates. of course, it comes with a sort of insecurity - what if he doesnt like it? what if he doesnt see me that way? what if our friendship forever changes? what ifs? yet, you held on tightly to the chocolate, walking into class to rin. until you see your own desk beside his flooded with valentine chocolates addressed to rin himself where all of the sudden, you wished to run away far away, you wished to live just in solitude by the ocean, you wish to pretend to be sick and go back home and cry again and again. its stupid, you think, youre just another person in love, youre nothing special. yet, when rin looks at you with sparkling eyes at your chocolates unlike anyone else, you feel as though youre at the top of the war, youre like diamond amongst the rest, that maybe rin sees you differently.

“is that for me?” if he didnt looked so expectant, so hopeful, you might have just not given it to him, simply from the pile of chocolates (that you hope hell pass to you after valentines, and he does.) on the desks. you nodded, passing it to him with a awkward smile. he doesnt get the hint you think, as he opens it without hesitation to eat one - his usual grimace that melted into a small smile changed into a grin, chewing happily onto the overly sweet chocolate you made. you want to be mad, that youll always be in competition with everyone, but when he smiles like that, youve got no choice but to look at him like hes built the very world for you, like hes your star in the dark, like hes your own galaxy.

its now or never. whats the worst that can happen? - that your friendship is forever broken, that your heart is shattered by his own hands, that youll never ever see him the same way again And he’ll never see you again?! “i.. i like you..!” courage, right, thats what those mangas would call it, but deep down it was just an impulse, as if you were born to say it to him, born to love him, like you were soulmates. he doesnt even blink, replying back with about the worst thing someone can hear when they confess : “i hope so? we’re friends.” with the most deadpan voice that had you question everything. nothing like this happens in those romance mangas - he should have either said yes or no! not an in-between?! this doesnt match up to any calculations, not by your friends, not by romance mangas, not by any youtube videos could have prepared you for that response.

nonetheless, you went home with a plastic bag with all of itoshi’s confession chocolates. thats a win? sort of. but its clear that you need a more straightforward approach to get your romantic intention, NOT platonic intention across.

#2 — CONGRATULATIONAL FLOWERS?!

after long months of cringing at the first failure attempt at confessing, and long days of rereading cheesy love mangas to gather ideas, it was finally time for round 2. this time not because of simply encouragement, but from the bursting butterflies in your heart. ever since that, your lovesickness have only gotten worst - if hanahaki was real, no doubt flowers would be pouring out of your lungs from the amount of love that has grown roots into your heart. every moment felt like straight from a k-drama through rose tinted lenses, every action of his felt like a confession, every second with him felt like heaven. and enough was this barrier called embarrassment, fear, cowardice to stop you from pursuing. another year had passed and now each second is like diamond - counting down every second to when lunch starts, to a free period, to after school, to after club - anytime where you can maybe, just maybe spot rin even if he ocassionally runs off for football training that had only lasted longer until the sun sets after the argument with his brother.

deep down, even though youve never met sae, you wished you did just to punch him - for now rin has only grown more distant, whilst your feelings had grown more deeper. like oil and water, you no longer merge together as one, and perhaps this is the last chance to confess before he eventually disappears. growing up is hard, but maybe losing him would be the scariest and hardest part. yet, here you are, still attending all his football matches, waiting for him in the air-conditioned library until the clock ticks to when the school gates closes to find him, waiting for him to come back to you.

flowers. longing and yearning - cameilia and carnation replied back all those cliche love mangas. and so, you saved up for weeks just to buy an overly expensive bouquet - one that seemed out of place with your bags or rin’s everexpanding confession gifts. would it be a rejection, a success? a repeat of the previous year, another retry of last year’s failed confession, just that this time he might just get the idea? hiding the flowers in a separate bag, because certainly this could count as romantic, and youd rather do away with gossips or talks. yet of course, fate strikes again.

“thanks..? its alright to not get gifts for my football matches win though, its nothing major anyways.” and suddenly you take it back. you rather he just thanked you for it platonically. in what world do friends get romantic flowers with ribbons and all sort of decorations for a simple congratulations for a no-name match?! perhaps you two were never meant to be, and this had to be a sign from the gods or something, you concluded. you blinked and laughed it off, your mind spinning with all sort of thoughts - was this his way of rejecting you?! was he truly this clueless or is he trying to let me down?! suddenly all the fantasies and daydreams had fallen flat - this is real life. there is no true school romance, that rhese are feelings left better unsaid as your parents and adults in your life say. teenage love never last, they say - but in this case, they dont work, or at least for you. maybe, your teenage life would be the same mundane, boring ones - filled with just waiting for rin, doing homework, talking with friends, one that is filled with love and normalacy but never the exciting and romantic films you see on tv.

and maybe, just maybe, youve given up on pursuing itoshi rin romantically for the time being. but thats alright, as long as you were friends, youd stay together forever right?

#3 — CONFESSION FOR YOU UNSAID?!

youve lived the rest of your mundane life, completing routines after routines as if its a time loop. maybe, that failure had affected you, brushing off datdreams quickly. growing up meant to be logical, to not blush like a teenage kid, to not linger on hopeless love and dreams - you tell yourself. and rin is still here, like the sun to the earth, always orbiting around you. as long as the world continues to hold you two together as though connected by red strings, itd be alright.

yet, it stings when he tells you about blue lock. its evil, its bitter, its jealousy, its anger that pumps through your very veins. just as rin and you were falling back to back then, where you guys were connected by the hips, to when you had first been enchanted by his star-like eyes. you want to blame the world, the universe for being so cruel. you want to lock yourself, trap yourself in your room, throwing away the key. yet, theres only limited days with itoshi rin, and youd rather die than not be with him until the very end. even if its to the end of your friendship, your dream, your life with you and him together. whether that is to bring him to old arcades where tou two once played, bring him to the old now run-down convenience store where you and him went after school to get lunch, bring him to the mall to take your final photos and lucky charms with him. each moment now even more precipus than previous ones - and suddenly you understand the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. its love. you know its love, you knew since you were 14 when you gave him the chocolates, you knew since you were 15 when yoi presented him a bouquet, and you know now that youre 16 about to send him off to another world you can never reach.

its selfish when you blurt it out as he was half-way out of your door after your last sleepover. its out of desperation, out of feelings youve kept hidden in an bottle that is now exploding. its impulsive, its unconscious - the way youve just confessed to him that you loved him. “i love you” theres no way to misinterpret that. maybe he’ll tell you theres bo need to be sentimental, that hell be back (you were convinced he wouldnt.), that its cringe. yet, its silence that fills the room and all you wished to do was to run back to your room, to cry into the pillows, to read all those hopeful love mangas.

“.. i hope you meant it.. i love you too.” its anticlimatic, theres no dramatic scene of profession of love the way mangas portray it, yet you think that theres nothing more than you need. its the most itoshi rin (though youve never thought hed ever say love in a context outside of horror movies and games) and yet, its the words that you longed and yearned for for years by now, its the dream youve been daydreaming in class and in bed, its the life yoive envisioned as you look at him from the stands. and perhaps the world has finally answered your prayers, your musings, your complaints.

third’s the charm they say - and you for once agree with those stupid sayings because on your third attempt of confession did you finally get to be with itoshi rin.

[musamora]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

TAGLIST: @little-miss-chaoss

© MUSAMORA 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[ennaku-sirri-da]

THE HIGH PRIESTESS Upright:

Intuitive insight and wisdom

Secrets, mystery

Trust yourself and your instincts

THE HIGH PRIESTESS Reversed:

Blocked sight/insight/intuition

You’ve lost touch with yourself

Keep your secrets – don’t share quite yet

[Image Description: A coloured pencil drawing of Tiff Webber from Smile For Me sitting on a stool and holding a stand microphone to her chest and her record contract in her lap. She’s smiling, and there are silver moon and star decals in her hair. She’s in the Lounge, and behind her are the edges of posters and the record player. End ID.]

Here’s my piece for the 1 Free 4Tune Zine! @echobsilly and @kiwicartwheels organised this anniversary zine, and I’m delighted to have been a part of it. It turned out so well! Absolutely check out the amazing website at sfmzine.neocities.org, made by @fridgefeet!

[hynzsn]

★ CHAPTER ONE: BERRY BEST BEGINNING ★

chapter one of ₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕STRAWBERRY KISSES ꒱ ˚₊

☆ choi soobin x male reader

-> sunshine baker!soobin x grumpy (secretly soft) farmer!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff

contents: loosely inspired by strawberry shortcake (tv show), opposites attract, m/m, strawberries, romance, slice of life, slight enemies to lovers (at least grumpy x sunshine potential), humor, bakery, farm, forced proximity, small town setting, mutual pining (brewing already!), summer, summer vibes, lighthearted & sweet, slow burn, feel good, height difference, summer berry festival, awkward encounters, did someone say strawberries?

wc: 2.3k

summary: meet soobin, the sunshine baker known for his award-winning pastries and infectious laugh. his bakery, "crumbs & co.," is the heart of shortcake springs, especially during the annual summer berry festival. but disaster strikes – he's out of strawberries, his star ingredient! enter you, the gruff but handsome owner of "sun-kissed berries," known for your organic, mouthwatering produce. soobin, desperate and flustered, begs you for help. you, initially hesitant due to the last-minute request and your own demanding schedule, is charmed by soobin’s passion and agrees to help, setting the stage for a week of unexpected collaboration.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

welcome to shortcake springs, a place where life was as sweet and satisfying as a perfectly crafted strawberry shortcake. nestled amidst rolling hills and fields bursting with color, the town was a patchwork of charm and rustic elegance. the air, always tinted with the sweetness of ripening berries, carried the laughter of children playing in the town square, a space as inviting and comforting as a fluffy biscuit base. quaint brick buildings, their faces adorned with overflowing flower boxes, lined main street, each shop a treasure trove of local delights, much like the hidden pockets of juicy strawberries within a well-made shortcake.

and just like the crowning dollop of whipped cream, the annual summer berry festival was the pinnacle of the town's year, a celebration of all things fruity and joyful. it was a time for neighbors to come together, for traditions to be shared, and for the air to be filled with the irresistible aroma of freshly baked dreams.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the aroma of baking bread and simmering fruit usually heralded the dawn in this quaint corner of the world. but today, a different kind of energy crackled through the air - a blend of rising panic and the sweet, sharp scent of desperation. it clung to choi soobin like a fine dusting of flour as he frantically rummaged through his walk-in refrigerator.

"no, no, no!" the word escaped him, a low groan that echoed off the stainless steel shelves, starkly contrasting with his usually disposition. his bakery, "crumbs & co," was a symphony of warmth and light, the kind of place where worries melted away with the first bite of a blueberry muffin. but right now, the only thing melting was soobin's composure.

he was out of strawberries. completely, utterly, devastatingly out. and not just any strawberries - these were the plump, ruby-red jewels destined for his legendary strawberry shortcake, the crown jewel of the annual summer berry festival, just a week away.

"okay, soobin, think," he muttered, pushing a hand through his already-tousled hair. he looked like a classic storybook baker, flour-dusted apron slightly askew, a smudge of strawberry jam on his cheek, and eyes wide with a mixture of distress and determination. "who has the best damn strawberries within a fifty-mile radius?"

the answer, as clear and bright as the summer sky outside, slammed into him like a runaway pie cart. it was a name whispered with reverence by townsfolk and pastry enthusiasts alike: y/n, the enigmatic owner of "sun-kissed berries."

y/n. even your name sounded like something out of a folk song, rough around the edges yet undeniably alluring. soobin had only caught glimpses of you at the local farmer's market, and there was always one thing that stood out to him the most - your eyes. your eyes which could probably melt glaciers with a single glance. you had a reputation for being a bit gruff, a man of few words and even fewer smiles. but damn, could you grow some strawberries.

soobin glanced at the calendar on the wall, each day marked with a reminder of the rapidly approaching festival. it was a long shot, a desperate plea. but desperation, as they say, was the mother of all questionable life choices. and right now, soobin was ready to adopt that questionable life choice and call it his own.

"alright y/n," soobin muttered, grabbing his keys and mentally preparing himself for potential rejection. "time to see if those rumours about your heart being as soft as your strawberries are actually true."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the drive to "sun-kissed berries," was a blur of verdant fields and soobin's increasingly frantic internal monologue. he'd rehearsed his plea at least a dozen times, each iteration more desperate than the last. he just had to convince you to part with your precious strawberries. his reputation, his sanity, and possibly the entire happiness index of the town depended on it.

he pulled up to the farm, a charmingly rustic spread with a weathered wooden sign that read "sun-kissed berries - taste the difference." soobin's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that rivaled the beat of a hummingbird's wings. he took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of freshly turned earth, and, yes, the unmistakable sweetness of ripe strawberries. it was like walking into a goddamn fruit-themed fairytale.

he spotted you immediately. you were bent over a row of strawberry plants, a straw hat shading your eyes as you inspected the fruit with a focus that bordered on reverence. even from a distance, soobin could see the way the sun glinted off your hair, the way your shoulders moved with an easy strength that made his stomach do a weird little flip.

"okay, soobin," he whispered to himself, "play it cool. be charming. channel your inner pastry god."

he strode towards you, each step a symphony of squeaking sneakers and mounting anxiety. as he got closer, he could hear you humming a low tune, a melody as warm and comforting as a summer breeze. you still hadn't noticed him, too engrossed in the world of your berries.

"um, hello?" soobin called out, his voice a little higher-pitched than intended.

you straightened up, turning to face him with a slow deliberateness that sent a shiver down soobin's spine. your eyes, sharp and startingly intense, met his, and for a moment, soobin forgot how to breathe.

"can i help you?" you asked, your voice a low rumble that resonated deep within soobin's chest. it was the kind of voice that could narrate audiobooks and make grocery lists sound like poetry.

"i, uh..." soobin stammered, his carefully rehearsed speech dissolving like sugar in rainwater. he felt like an idiot, standing there with his mouth flapping like a landed fish.

you raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. "cat got your tongue?"

"more like strawberry stole my vocabulary," soobin blurted out, mentally kicking himself for the lame joke.

to his surprise, a low chuckle rumbled from your chest. "that's a new one." you leaned back against a weathered fence post, crossing your arms over your chest. "so, what brings the town baker to my humble berry patch?"

soobin took a deep breath, willing his heart rate to slow down to something resembling a normal rhythm. "right, well, you see, y/n," he began, trying to inject his voice with a confidence he definitely didn't feel, "i'm in a bit of a predicament."

"predicament?" you echoed, tilting your head slightly. the sunlight caught the side of your face, highlighting the sharp line of your jaw and the faintest hint of stubble. soobin briefly wandered what it would be like to trace those lines with his fingertips, then mentally scolded himself for having inappropriate thoughts about a guy who could probably bench-press a tractor.

"yes, a predicament of epic, pastry-related proportions," soobin said, wincing internally at his own rambling. "you see, the summer berry festival is in a week..."

"i'm aware," you interrupted, a hint of amusement in your voice. "it's kind of hard to miss all the posters plastered around town with that giant strawberry mascot on them."

soobin blushed, realizing he was stating the obvious. "right, of course," he mumbled. "well, the thing is, my strawberry shortcakes are, like, a huge thing at the festival. people line up for hours. there are even rumours of a black market for the last few boxes."

you chuckled, a deep throaty sound that sent a pleasant shiver down soobin's spine. "sounds serious."

"it is!" soobin exclaimed, his desperation finally breaking through. "and the thing is, i, uh, i may have...miscalculated...the amount of strawberries i needed."

"miscalculated?' you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

soobin cringed. "okay, fine, i completely forgot to order more and now i'm completely out and the festival is in a week and..." he trailed off, realizing that he was starting to hyperventilate.

you studied him for a moment, your gaze intense and unnervingly perceptive. soobin felt like you could see right through his flour-dusted apron, into the depths of his slightly panicked soul.

"so," you said slowly, "you're asking me..."

"for your strawberries?" soobin blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. "please. y/n, you're my only hope! your strawberries are legendary! they're like little drops of sunshine kissed by angels!"

okay maybe he went a tad overboard with the description, but he was desperate!

you didn't reply right away. you just stood there, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on your face as you surveyed soobin with those intense eyes. soobin resisted the urge to fidget, reminding himself that he was a pastry god, a master of dough and sugar, and he could handle a little bit of awkward silence.

"you know," you finally said, your voice deceptively casual, "most people place orders in advance."

soobin winced. "yes, i’m aware of how business transactions usually work," he said, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "but this is... a unique situation. a perfect storm of baking enthusiasm and forgetfulness."

you let out a low chuckle, the sound unexpectedly pleasant. "let me guess, you were up all night perfecting a new glaze, lost track of time, and by the time you remembered the strawberries, it was too late?"

soobin stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. "how...how did you know that?"

you shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "lucky guess. plus, you've got a bit of flour in your hair."

soobin's hand flew to his head, self-consciously brushing away the stray but of baking evidence. he was mortified. he prided himself on his usually impeccable appearance, but clearly, his strawberry-induced meltdown had taken it's toll.

"look," you said, your voice softening slightly, "i appreciate the...enthusiasm. and your shortcakes do sound legendary."

"they are!" soobin interjected. clutching at the compliment like a lifeline.

you held up a hand, silencing him. "but," you continued, "my strawberries are spoken for. i've got contracts with half the restaurants in town, not to mention the farmer's market this weekend."

soobin's heart plummeted. he knew it was a long shot, but hearing you confirm it felt like a punch to the gut. his festival dreams, his reputation, his very existence as a baker flashed before his eyes.

"but..." you added, and soobin dared to hope again.

you pushed away from the fence post, tilting your head back slightly to meet soobin's eyes. even with the height difference, your gaze held steady, those same intense eyes studying him with an unnerving perceptiveness. soobin was really fighting the urge to fidget under your scrutiny, but he also couldn't help but feel a little thrill at the way you had to look up at him.

"i might," you said slowly, your voice low and a touch of conspiratorial, "have a small surplus."

soobin's head tilted in response, hope surging through him like a shot of espresso. "you do?"

"maybe," you said, a playful glint in your eyes, "but it'll cost you."

soobin would have empties his bakery fund, his savings account, and possibly sold his prized collection of vintage rolling pins at that moment. "anything," he blurted out. "name your price."

you let out a deep an rich chuckle, taking a step closer, closing the distance between you. "relax, baker boy. i'm not going to bankrupt you. at least, not today." you paused, tapping a finger against your chin thoughtfully. "tell you what. you help me around the farm this week, leading up to the festival - i’m harvesting the last of the season's - and those surplus berries are all yours."

soobin blinked, momentarily distracted by how close you were now. he could practically smell the fresh earth and sunshine clinging to your clothes. "help you...on the farm?"he echoed, trying to focus on the conversation ad not the way your presence seemed to fill his senses. he couldn't help but picture himself, covered in dirt and probably a few insects, fumbling his way through a field of strawberries. it wasn't exactly the image he usually projected.

you seemed to find his hesitation amusing. "don't worry, i won't put you to work on any heavy machinery," you said, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "unless you're secretly a tractor enthusiast in disguise."

soobin laughed, a wave of relief washing over him. "i think i'll stick to my ovens for now," he said. "but a deal's a deal. you've got yourself a farmhand, y/n."

you extended your hand, your grip firm and surprisingly warm against soobin's. "welcome aboard, soobin," you said, a genuine smile finally spreading across your face. it transformed younfrom gruff owner to someone....well, someone soobin could definitely see himself spending a lot lf time with, both in the strawberry fields and maybe, just maybe, somewhere a little more...private. he quickly shoved that thought aside. focus, soobin. strawberries. festival. right.

"so," you continued, your voice snapping soobin out of his daydreams, "be here bright and early tomorrow, and wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty. and soobin?"

"yeah?"

"leave the fancy pastries at home. we'll have our work cut out for us, and i prefer my sugar rush in the form of freshly picked strawberries."

soobin grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. "deal." he gave you a little wave, unable to contain his happy energy. "i should probably let you get back to it. i’ll be here bright and early tomorrow, ready to work...and maybe sample a few strawberries." he added the last part with a playful wink, earning himself another chuckle from you.

turning to leave, soobin felt a lightness in his step that hadn't bee there before. as he walked back to his vespa, the setting sun casting long shadows across the farm, he couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected turn of events might just be the sweetest thing. he'd stumbled upon all year.

he slid onto his vespa, the scent of strawberries clinging to his clothes, his apron, and pulled away from "sun-kissed berries," his heart full of anticipation for the week ahead. he had a feeling that it was going to be a berry good one.

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TIME (2)

- you’re smacked in the face with a hint of the past and a group of aviators that can’t seem to leave you alone. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 2,002

a/n - i’m on my phoenix wlw bullshit btw, i love her sm 🫶 enjoy this slightly longer chapter, and heed my warnings: something big is coming soon

When they step through the doorway of the quaint cafe, the entire dagger squad sighs. The smell of coffee and baked goods is almost sweet enough to touch, with slightly floral notes from the abundance of small plants and tabletop flowers. The floor beneath them is wood-paneled, with green accents hidden throughout the building. In Rooster’s opinion, it’s straight out of a storybook. And, evidently, so are you.

He would be lying if he said you weren’t anything short of completely gorgeous. The sunlight from your many windows filters over your face and through the gaps between your fingers, casting you in a golden San Diego glow. Your smile reaches your eyes and, though he would love to see you in any outfit, the apron is really working for you. You seem nice— and man, do the daggers really take advantage of “nice”. 

Hangman, from behind him, whispers, “Holy shit.”

You’re standing behind the cash register, thumbing through a decoration catalog when the rowdy group appears in front of you. You direct your warm smile to the daggers as you put the catalog down, and suddenly, Rooster vaguely recognizes you.

Bradley wracks his brain, trying desperately to remember who you are.

You don’t seem like anyone he met at college or recently, and definitely not on base, so you must’ve been from his childhood. The girl who slapped him during his senior year? No, you couldn’t be her. The girl who worked at the corner shop by his house, the girl he made out with in his mom’s car, the girl who found out she was a lesbian after dating him, none of them looked like you. But god, do you look good.

Then it hits him. You. The girl who bought his mom flowers. Who baked him cookies. Who tearfully admitted that you didn’t think he liked you as much as he liked himself, and who he agreed with. You’re here, and he sorely regrets breaking your heart twenty years ago. The worst (or perhaps best) part is that you don’t even seem to recognize him. He’s a little afraid of what would happen if you did.

“Welcome in!” You call, and he can see his friends swooning. He himself feels a little weak in the knees. 

Hangman, ever the flirt, takes his opportunity. “Hey, darlin’. I’m Jake. Come here often?”

Rooster can feel his eyes rolling themselves. It’s like he’s been conditioned to groan at Hangman’s attempts. They’re never good, if he’s being honest. “Gorgeous” this and “darlin’” that. Despite his reservations, though, it usually works. That or his sharp jawline, toned abs, and movie star scruff.

“If you mean here, as in where I work, then yes.” You quip. Jake reaches to shake your hand, and you comply, looking at him like a motorist looks at a poor piece of roadkill; just a little pitying. Rooster has never been more impressed by a woman before.

“Fanboy here has been raving about your croissants, gorgeous.” There it is. Rooster knows Jake’s lines like the back of his hand. “I bet you make the best ones in the city. I wouldn’t mind getting a sample myself.” He drawls. He pulls out his wallet like it’s on fire and quickly drops some cash in your tip jar before offering the rest directly to you.

You hand him a wrapped croissant before gesturing to Fanboy. “Fanboy? Is that a call sign?”

He takes a step forward, a sparkle in his eye. “Yes ma’am.” His cheeks are dusted with a light red, and not even the soft lighting of the cafe can hide it.

Phoenix is standing near the back with Bob, arms crossed, taking in the scene in front of her. Rooster moves to join her as Fanboy takes pride in letting you know everyone’s call sign. “Not joining in on the action?” Rooster says, nudging her with his elbow.

Phoenix shrugs. “She’s a looker for sure, but all I can see is that photo of her and her boyfriend on the wall behind her. I’ll quit while I’m ahead.” She grins. Rooster laughs, and for a split second, your eyes shift to him. They widen a bit, then before he can even process it, you’re helping Payback pick out a cupcake. Damn, your eyes are beautiful.

When he and Phoenix eventually peel the others off of your cafe’s very nice wooden floors, Bradley can’t stop the flutter in his chest.

Bradley comes back the next day. He just can’t help himself. The night of the initial visit, he tossed and turned in his bed, desperately trying not to think of you and how he royally fucked up. He needs closure. He needs to stand in front of you, face-to-face, and confess that he regrets ever hurting you. He knows he’s out of time, and he’s been out of time for years, but he feels that if he can’t speak to you, he might explode. That is, if you even remember who he is.

That’s why he finds himself staring at your pastry shelf as you list off your favorites. “…sometimes the cherry tarts are good, but I mostly like the raspberry scones. They’re way too underrated.” You hover above the glass display, pointing to each one.

“Then I’ll have one raspberry scone, please.” He smiles. As you wrap his choice for him, he hesitates. “Do… do you remember me?”

“From yesterday? I find your group a bit hard to forget, Rooster.” You say. You’re purposely avoiding his question, something that you yourself can see very clearly. You hope it isn’t obvious to him.

Of course you remember him. You remember the smell clinging to his jacket and his stupidly loud boombox. You also remember his gangly limbs and prominent awkwardness. And, as much as you try to forget, you remember how in love you were.

Whenever you saw him, your heart would swell. He was just so good. Everything about him just seemed like a teenage dream.

His hair was scruffy, like he hadn’t learned to take care of it yet. He was tall still, as he always had been. And he was kind.

He offered to walk you to school every morning after your mom told his mom that the dog two houses down from yours would chase you, and you were head over heels. Every word he spoke seemed to draw you closer. During those walks, the world itself seemed to rest in your open palms.

“Hey, wait- don’t go too far, I can’t see you!”

“You’re real smart, did you know that? You’re not like a lot of the other girls.”

“That’s so cool. You should come over and show me sometime.”

You had gotten so caught up in him that you completely forgot he wasn’t the type to settle down, even in high school.

“I just don’t know.” He said, on your second-to-last date. “I like that you’re into me, but I’m young, y’know? I mean, we’re not even legal adults yet. I don’t want to tie myself down too soon. It’s not you, it’s me.” 

You nodded along, but your heart was breaking with every word that came out of his mouth. You wanted him so badly it made your throat ache. You had written poems about this guy, and he was feeding you cliche break up lines to get away from you. “I get it.” You murmured. You did, in some sense. High school relationships aren’t built to last. At the time, you wished they were. “You just want ‘casual’. And I know I’m not casual.”

This conversation kicked you right in the insecurities. For a long, long time, you believed you weren’t loveable because of it. You were too much, loved too much, gave too much. You felt too much. You scared everyone away with your tears and worries, latching on so tightly anyone in your grip felt like they were suffocating. It closed you off for a good, long while. In truth, Derick was the only reason you ever came out of that self-loathing way of thinking.

Bradley smiled like he didn’t just kick you in the feelings. “Right. Thanks for understanding,” and he spoke your name without a hint of longing. “You’ll find a nice guy someday. I just don’t think it’ll ever be me.”

Then, things exploded when you caught him flirting with Rebecca right before your last date, and you never looked back.

You hand him the scone with a tight smile. 

“No,” he says, “do you remember me from high school? Bradley Bradshaw, at your service.” 

You pause, as if you’re just taking him in for the first time. He supposes that he does look really different, with the mustache and hair and filled-out body. He wouldn’t blame you if you just didn’t want to recognize him, though.

“Oh.” Is all you say. An awkward pause fills the air, stifling the rest of the words in your throat. If you’re being honest, you would’ve rather he just stayed away instead of infiltrating one of the places you feel safest. You suppose you can’t actually be that mad at him, though, considering it’s been two decades since he hurt you. Bradley quickly fills the silence.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was a dick back then. I regret it deeply, if that’s any consolation.” 

You hand him his scone. “You were a dick. But I lived.” Your tone still has a touch of humor. Bradley can feel his heart doing loop-de-loops. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not now, not when you have a boyfriend and have so clearly moved on from him, but the feelings that drew him to you in the first place are sprinting back at full force.

He did like you. He liked your jokes, how you always put your full effort in, and your kindness, even when he didn’t deserve it. He just wasn’t ready for anything so undoubtedly good at the time. He needed to get smacked in the face with the lessons that life taught him. If he hadn’t gotten those lessons, if he had taken your hand and your offer of a real relationship, he would be happier. But you wouldn’t be. That’s what he had learned after all these years, and now, he’s desperate to prove that life changed him. You were never too much for him, he just wasn’t enough for you.

“Yeah, clearly. I’m happy you’re doing well now.” He gestures to the scone as a show of proof, quirking his eyebrow. You smile.

“I’m happy you seem to be doing well too. Come back anytime, Bradley.”

Seeing him still hurts. You don’t have the right to be sad, you think, but finding out that you moved miles and miles away just to end up in front of him makes you feel like your life has been one big unhappy circle. Despite everything, you’re glad he’s made a life for himself. He definitely seems more mature now, which the San Diego ladies must love.

He pays you, then slides a twenty and a piece of paper in your tip jar with sparkling eyes. He licks his lips quickly, like his mouth has suddenly gone dry. His stance is just a little less confident than it was a few seconds ago. “I put my number in there. Call me if you need a friend, yeah? No funny business, but it’s tough being in a new place, so I’ll be here if you feel up for it.”

Looking around at your sparsely furnished and no-employee cafe, you don’t wonder how he knew you just moved here. You just thank him with a tight smile and pretend not to notice how nice he looks from the back.

You unfold the piece of paper, fully intending to throw it away, before sighing and tucking it into your apron pocket. You doubt you’ll ever need a friend in Bradley Bradshaw, but things tend to change in the blink of an eye.

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Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes @shanimallina87 @sadgirlgiselle

[jymwahuwu]

Imagine reader's child with yan!tighnari turning out like their dad

Like imagine reader hinting to their children that they weren't happy with the marriage by telling stories but their children snitched on them and told yan!tighnari Abt it bc they saw it as their mother trying to leave them

IT WOULD BE SO FUN TO SEE DJJEJS

tw: yandere, non-con, implied kidnapping, spanking, orgasm control, breeding, knotting

yandere Tighnari breeding reader that rejects them part 1

part 2

this is amazing... who doesn't like being punished by Tighnari - with the fox babies it's much harder for you to leave🤭💕

With Tighnari and the fox cubs, life in the forest is peaceful. Fox cubs love to snuggle up to you, mutter "mama" in soft voices, bury their heads in your arms, and the fur on their ears always tickles your chest - and your heart too. You brush and clean the tails of the Tighnari and the babies and apply plant-based waterproofing oil. You like to pet their tails and ears. Every time you do this, the fox cubs involuntarily purr but then deny this.

Tighnari has produced some learning materials for children and you are responsible for teaching them to read, one of the ways is to tell bedtime stories.

"What did you dream about last night?"

"In the past, people in this country could not dream, but now when the God of Wisdom enters the dream, all of us weave dreams…"

One of the cubs said they dreamed of inexhaustible padisarah pudding on the table, you smile. Unfortunately, you find out that all the storybooks have been read. They have inherited the wisdom of their father - they never forget a story they have heard once. You must have new stories to lull them to sleep…

You have an idea, speaking with metaphor.

"In the kingdom of forests and deserts, there lived a bird.

They have wonderful singing voices, and their goal is to become the lead singer among the thousands of birds, offering songs to the sky and stars. However, this is too difficult. They lived with songs, and in the woods there were larks, nightingales, canaries… some of them were mean, but some were kind, and their songs were said to be the best.

They thought they were one of them.

But one day, they found out that they were just ordinary finch, bouncing around the ground, sharing food, singing with other companions - that's their usual life.

They still don't give up, dreaming that they too can achieve their goals.

At this time a fox told them: Do you want to live with me? The life of a bird is too ordinary. Life is more than singing.

They refused.

What they don't know is that the fox has a big cage ready for them. At night, the fox sneaked into the forest quietly. He found them resting on the tree, and the cage covered their bodies. Their singing has since disappeared into the woods.

Living in a fox cabin, they don't need to compete with other birds, there is enough food, gifts and beds, but they kind of miss the sky and the smell of rain. That's what they lost.

One day, they escaped from the fox's house and took to the sky while the fox was not looking. They flapped their wings and sang in the sky, attracting the attention of other birds - they were surprised to find that one of them had such a melodious song.

However, they no longer care about other people's evaluation - they left the forest where they lived, flew over towns, mountains, and fields, leaving sweet songs everywhere for everyone. "

After hearing this story, the fox cubs pouted, a little sullen. "mama, why is the fox in this story a bad guy?"

"That's just a coincidence. The little lion was the villain last time." You smiled and kissed their little foreheads. "Good night, my babies."

The next day, Tighnari returned to the forest from the seminar, and the fox cubs jumped into his arms, yelling "papa!". He hugged them and gave them presents - some new toys. Under study, they are already smarter than many children of the same age at this time.

"Papa, are foxes bad?? Does mama want to leave us?" one of the cubs asked. The cubs recount last night's story to Tighnari - though they don't quite understand parts of the story, they have a vague sense that you want to leave the forest.

"Oh, there's such a thing." Tighnari raised his eyebrows, and there was unknowingly meanness in his tone, but then disappeared, comforting the babies gently. "It's okay, mama is just telling you stories, and won't leave us."

For you it's another attitude - he's away for two days and you're signaling to the kids that you want to leave? Does this mean you already have a plan? unacceptable. Entering the house, Tighnari greets you and casually asks what story you told the babies last night. He notices you avoiding his gaze - "You really don't have anything to confess to me?"

"Wait, my- my story doesn't mean that!" You panicked in denial.

Tighnari does not accept excuses of any kind - punishment is a necessary part of your education since you are so stubborn, chasing your unrealistic dreams.

He orders you to bend over, slips a vibrator into your wet inner wall, and rubs his thumb along the edge of your glistening flesh. The little machinery buzzes and vibrates deep within you. You whimper and beg him to stop. "Please- please- Tighnari I'm sorry- I won't do this again…" You try to keep your balance in the shock, but the ruler appears and smacks your ass hard. The slapping lands on both of your ass cheeks, and it's never in the same rhythm - when you think your left ass is about to get spanked, Tighnari smacks three times on your right.

Tighnari rubs between your legs after a round until orgasm is imminent, then starts a new round, leaving you in deep despair. You can't remember exactly how many times you took it, basically a mess of tears, legs shaking and a stooped posture. "I- I'm so sorry…!!" he asks you in a mean, veiled, sinister voice. "Do you still want to leave? Is there anything more comfortable than getting my cock? Hmm?"

"No- no! I just need you - Tighnari-" you gasp, unable to choose your words. You just desperately want to be released, to be filled.

"Okay," he muttered, sinking his already swollen long cock deep inside you, pounding you hard, rubbing his fingers on your clit. You scream, tears and juice splattering the table, pleasure flowing through your body, your walls contracting.

"Maybe I should give you some other babies." Tighnari announced as knotted inside you. "You won't have time to leave."

[nostalgiafactor08]

okay so i made a pinterest and seeing all the sonic headcanons is making me want to make my own so… SONIC HEADCANONS ‼️

Sonic is very forgetful and as such Tails puts sticky notes around their house reminding him of any errands he needs to run or things he has to do

Sonic loves to boast about Tails’ accomplishments. Sonic has the biggest ego but he’s also so proud of Tails that he will, much to Tails’ embarrassment, loudly proclaim how cool his inventions are

Amy loves going over to visit Cream and Vanilla to help out, and she loves baking with them

I don’t see people talking about Vanilla nearly enough, but i think everyone who knows her adores her and likes to help her out - she is a single mum, after all. Sonic will run errands for her, Amy will babysit Cream, Knuckles will carry her grocery bags for her, Tails will make her little gadgets and trinkets with Cream, etc. It’s all very sweet

Sonic takes a lot of naps. It doesn’t matter when or where he just plonks himself down and he’s out

Amy carries a polaroid camera around with her to take photos with her friends and then pin them to a cork board

I’ve seen this said before, but Silver is a history nerd

He’s also a giant trivia fan. He’s the kind of person that’ll memorise the dates that his favourite movies came out and then pull that fact from nowhere and his friends are all really confused as to why he knows that off the top of his head (No i’m not projecting. Shh.)

I also strongly believe Tails knows how to sew and has a sewing machine

Blaze, Shadow and Espio probably have a book club. Sometimes Tails and Silver will join them on their sessions.

Knuckles taught Amy some hand-to-hand combat. Boxing stuff, yaknow?

Blaze’s gloves are a lot tougher and more abrasive to withstand her fireballs

Sonic is a big fan of older things believe it or not. From classic fairytales and stories (thinking back to the storybook games), to retro music and 80s movies

^Side note, he also loves Michael Jackson’s music and i think he’d love Back To The Future

I also think that Silver likes Star Wars

Silver has a sweet tooth, but Blaze has a more savoury taste. Blaze’s tolerance for spicy foods is also much higher than Silv’s

Espio and Blaze are also big on candles, i think

Because Silver grew up in the literal apocalypse, i think he’s very adaptable. he’ll manage with what he’s got, and he’s very resilient

Tails prefers 2D animation to 3D. Charmy prefers 3D animation. Cream chooses to not get involved in the matter

Vector was in a band in his youth, just like he is now with Espio and Charmy. He wasn’t any better back then, but he also wears hearing aides now because he busted his hearing with his music too loud. He still hasn’t learnt his lesson from that.

Just shooting off a few for you! When my mental headspace gets worse Sonic is always my comfort fandom, so here i am, and i hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would like more or if you had any ideas, i’m especially trying to think of some for Mighty and Ray, because they’re my special little guys goddammit.

Remember: stay way past cool!

[passionpeachy]

Hi hi hello! I've been following you for quite some time, but I am rather nervous, so I thought I would hop on anon for this!

Genuinely, you're so beautiful that whatever being or protectors that exist up there would be envious of you. The stars are an integral part of you and yet you shine far brighter than any star could dare to. Your stardust has come from the most beautiful places in all the edges of the universe, and contributed little parts of their existence— their atoms, energy, and stories— within you.

Your life is a storybook, and you are the poetry I would read to soothe my loved one to sleep.

(I mean all of this platonically, as I'm already taken, but I very much wanted to compliment you— you are such a sweet, funny and kind individual! You deserve the same kindness and joy that you give to everyone else. <3)

PLEASE THAT'S SO SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL 🤍🤍🤍 I get so giddy when I get such poetic compliments like these in my inbox

(Also don't worry, I'm taken too so I'm assuming you're all being platonic <3)

[signed-sapphire]

Okayyyy rewatched Wish

Here are my notes

Valentino wasn’t as annoying as people say. Sure, he did nothing for the plot and could’ve been removed entirely, but he didn’t make near as many butt jokes as people say he did

The lead-ins for all the songs were great. Certain media (Hazbin, for example) just jump into the songs

Magnifico??? Didn’t touch the pages??? So why would he be corrupted? Why does Amaya know of obsidian oil? Don’t you just skim the pages to release the evil?

Dahlia was amazing

“At the very least break the hold it has on him” Amaya? Didn’t you found this kingdom with thin? Wouldn’t you know?

Also Amaya was very sidelined. Where’s her backstory?

Asha’s magic wand mishaps were… corny at best

Why did they make Dario high all the time? He’s not stupid. I feel like they made him try to be like Fred from Big Hero 6 but failed

“Nine zillyboo, twenty alphabet!” Val, buddy. No.

DAHLIA. MATE. TRUE LOVE’S KISS CAN BRUNG HIM BACK I swear, it feels like the directors were switched

The spider-carriage thing. I feel like that could’ve been a Disney reference instead

Gabo was still my favorite out of the teens. Bazeema was sweet too

Also. Halzeema moments were actually in canon.

Sabino did not act 100 at all.

Crushing wishes did nothing to people except make them sad for .2 seconds

Asha’s drawing, her magic wand, none of that was important to the actual plot

I feel like the horses could’ve been Disney references too

Why did the roof open? That was never explained

Mag’s hair needed to be messier. Evil Magnifico? Crazy hair

How did he hear them from all the way down there

Mag’s really out there beating up a minor

The curse rope green things were not scary at all

Was Simon just in the forest the entire time?

The Magnifico getting sucked inside his staff… I feel that could’ve been a play to Dr. Facilier somehow

The stars raining down were beautiful

Was Star’s nose tap a reference to something?

The people’s talking… idk how I felt about that

WE 👏 SHOULD’VE 👏 SEEN 👏 SAKINA’S 👏 WISH

Another half-assed apology. First Namaari, now you. At least Simon’s was an actual apology. Wait. More of it goes on.

Ok his apology isn’t too bad

How did the staff get all the way down there?

Changed my opinion, Amaya deserved to tell Mag off

Did Mag’s curse break once he was in the mirror? Why did he act sad all of a sudden?

I’ve heard Asha’s movements weren’t finalized until later, but her movements seem pretty fluent

Clumsy and energetic, sure, but besides from the mouth drooping part, she wasn’t that quirky

Which. Could be a bad thing. She didn’t really have much of a personality

I like the Peter Pan building a flying machine idea

Zootopia ref

DARIO. SHUT UP

Why does everyone suddenly understand Star

But off-topic they were so cute

“It” I guess

Why refer to Star as an it

“They” was too woke for the Disney execs? Why, you had a one-second offhand comment about a water cousin who’s nonbinary!

That Cinderella-reference thing… wasn’t slow enough to be a dress transformation. So I’m fine with her not having a different dress. I mean obviously I would’ve loved it but idk

SHOW DON’T TELL, DISNEY

STOP TELLING

“I understand you well enough” I DON’T! HOW ARE THEY TELLING YOU

Some of Valentino’s jokes were funny. Sue me

I liked the Tinkerbell and Mikey Mouse reference at the end

The storybook was a nice callback

The credits should’ve been moving. Also CHOOSE BAYMAX TO REPRESENT BIG HERO 6. WHY HAVE VILLAINS LIKE MALEFICENT THERE

Overall. Not as bad as people are making it out to be. But definitely not worthy to be Disney’s 100

I’d say… 7/10. The backgrounds did look watercolor, but the shading seemed off in places. Especially Sakina. There was major improvement to be done, but with the hell the execs were giving (and the proven creativity of the concept art) I feel this movie is getting too much hate. Critiques and criticism are fine. But don’t blame the writers for getting rid of Starboy. Yes, it could’ve been better. But it’s Disney. And the creators tried their best to pour their love into a movie that they didn’t have a full say in.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎHoneymoon꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst (as always) pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy slips in and out of your life like the tide author’s note: heyy, I feel like I apologize for upcoming emotions every time I publish but it's for good reason (I'm sorry) Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

He was more shadow than man.

Solid though he was, Billy only occupied the space of you in darkness, under any guise. It was only beneath your fingers that he was willed into existence.

"Are you real?" you murmured one night, skin-to-skin with him, the dancing candlelight causing clouds of darkness to flicker across his skin. He lifted his head to look at you with sleepy eyes, hair messy from your previous repeated motions through it.

"'Course I am, baby," he whispered, voice low as the valley. His hand was on the side of your face, caressing you there. "'m real 's could be."

"I'm never sure." You leaned into his hand. "Sometimes I think I've made you up."

Billy's eyes were soft, his touch gentle. You could see the melancholy overtake him as it often did at some point during your meetings. When the rush of seeing each other wore off and reality set in, dread overtook you, and you began to miss each other before either of you were gone.

It hadn't always been like this.

Once, it had been bliss, and you both, lovers which the bands of nothing could break. Your passion was unbridled, your souls intertwined. Never had two people experienced such feeling, you were convinced. No, you and Billy were written in the stars, destined for each other in ways the storybooks couldn't dream of.

Little had you known that 'written in the stars' was a broad term that could be narrowed down to 'star crossed'.

The consequences of his life had caught up to him. He became a man in hiding, one who couldn't stay solitary for fear of the law catching up to him. Billy rode against the wind, running from a fate that breathed down his neck. Spending nights in abandoned bases or flat under the darkened sky, he was alone, but safe.

Which left his sweetheart in twin condition.

His presence haunted your little home like a living ghost, just slightly out of reach. It was an ache that couldn't be soothed- to know your lover walked the earth without you. Your paths were no longer intertwined, but rather parallel; beside each other but never crossing.

He came to you when the coast was clear and the law was unwary, slinking into your bed and wrapping you in his arms, filling the chasm he always left in his absence.

Tossing his hat on your dresser, Billy fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, acknowledging you with a soft smile as he tossed the garment away and came to join you in your bed. You awaited him with sleepy eyes and eager hands, clutching at him the second you were able. He nuzzled your cheek. "Hey, sweet girl."

You immediately burrowed yourself into his body as was your habit, breathing in his scent, long and deep. It endeared you more that even though his means were considerably limited, it was clear he'd cleaned up to see you. The scent of campfire wasn't as strong, but the natural musk of him filled your senses like a delightful aphrodisiac.

Billy began his ritual, planting gentle, loving kisses to every corner and crook of you. He murmured assurances of his love in between each one, his words muffled by your skin. "'m baby...missed you so bad...couldn't take another night withoutcha...oh my love..."

He kissed you like you were a treasure, held you as if you were ethereal. Shifting so you were perched atop his hips, Billy took in the sight of you, eyes shining in the dark. His lips parted as he seemed to absorb the picture of your being.

You'd had enough of looking, and dove down to kiss him, lips moving against his slowly. He chuckled lightly into your mouth. "Impatient..."

"I missed you," you murmured, pulling back slightly. He had stars in his eyes as he gazed up at you. "I...I need you."

A bittersweet smile overtook him, and Billy took your face in his hands, gently touching his lips to your forehead. He rolled you over carefully and settled himself on top, your knees slightly bent and cradling his hips.

Moving down slightly on his elbows, Billy nudged his nose against yours, eyes roving down your body. He breathed, "Lemme take care 'f ya."

A thousand touches. Countless kisses. Dozens of sweet words and more to come still. You laid beneath him embodied in the aftermath of a frenzy of passion. His head rested on your chest, and your hand absentmindedly caressed his hair.

An abyss of emotions found you and settled in the space where Billy lay. Your lower lip wobbled as dawn approached, that awful impending event finding your residence and breaking the windows.

"I can't do this without you," you breathed, clinging to him as if you could stop what was predestined.

Billy lifted his head, eyes somber. "Oh, honey..."

"I need you..." you sniffled, tears stinging your eyes. "It's too much, being forced to live this way."

He turned on his side immediately, bringing you to rest in his arms, your face pressed to his chest. Rubbing your back and kissing your temple, he muttered, "'m sorry...y'know it has to be this way my love...y'know I'd never leave ya if it wasn't to keep you safe..."

"Let me come with you." Your words were pleading, and you looked up at him, hoping he would melt for your words and doe eyes like he was wont to do. Indeed, you could see his face allay, and hope pierced your heart.

But his words were disheartening. "Sweetheart...'m not puttin' you at risk like that."

"Please," you begged, tears dripping onto his chest. "I'm only surviving without you. It's been months since we were alive."

"Baby," Billy whispered. "I need you safe. That is my only priority. 'n you're not safe when you're with me." He kissed your lips gently. "I've gotta keep ya breathin'...I couldn't live with myself if my girl got hurt or worse cause I was careless."

Body shaking, you dissolved into tears, cursing the unfairness of the situation. You needed him like air, like water. Your soul was beginning to shrivel up and cave in on itself in the absence of its mate.

Billy rested his chin on your head, kissing your hair and stroking your arm. "'m sorry baby, 'm sorry."

You remained glued to that spot in his arms for the rest of the night, holding him tight, wishing your touch had the ability to ground him. Billy was the sun and moon, he was your purpose as far as you were concerned. You wished for relief, for some loophole that would allow you to do what you wanted.

But once the sun stretched its rosy fingers over the horizon, you had to let go.

It was a grueling process as always, and you could see the heartbreak in his eyes as he detangled himself from you. "Sweetie...angel...I've gotta go."

"You weren't even here a full day this time," you sniffled, trying to hang on.

"I know, oh I know, sweet girl, 'm so sorry," he gently pulled your hands away from his body, reaching for his shirt on the floor. "'ve gotta go."

"Don't, please stay," you whimpered, reaching out for him as he buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his trousers. Looking at you, his face fell, and he gave in, framing your face with his hands and kissing your forehead once, the scratch of his stubble brushing your smooth skin.

"Keep an eye on the horizon," he whispered, raining gentle kisses on your cheeks. "I'll be back 's soon as I can."

And so you let go. Just like you did every time.

Being with him was like sailing against the current. You fought for him every time, but it never seemed to stick. Fate's ocean steered you back in the direction it wanted you to go.

"You should just leave me," you murmured one night, sitting beside him on the mattress. The air was quiet, the tension palpable. It became more evident every time he came.

Billy turned his head fully to look at you. "I ain't doin' that."

"You're putting yourself in danger," you breathed, trying not to let the tears in your eyes show. "If you weren't chained to me, you could run far away from here, to where it's safe. You'd be free."

"Freedom ain't worth a damn if it means I can't hold you," he shook his head, turning and cupping your face in his hands. "We ain't chained. This is love. It binds us together."

"I can't stand the thought of you getting killed because you were coming home," you whispered, pulling away and standing up. "Don't come back after this."

"Baby-" Billy stood, trying to reach for you, but you wouldn't let him. "Don't say things like that. I need ya, don't ya see?" Finally, he caught hold of one of your hands, squeezing it. "Angel, you're my north star. I need you."

"What you need is to stay alive," you shook your head, pulling back. "Having me won't do you any good when there's a gun to your head." The words were biting but they had to be said.

"Why're ya pushin' me to leave?" he asked in disbelief, hands falling at his sides. Billy ran a frustrated hand through his hair, shaking his head once. "I'm ridin' days 'n my girl's the only thing that keeps me goin'-"

"It hurts!" you burst out, turning to face him. "You leaving and coming back all the time and expecting me to wait around for you. You think you're keeping me safe but it's not fair!"

"'nd what d'ya expect me to do, huh?" he snapped, the strain wearing his normally patient demeanor down. Inhaling once, his tone firm but softened slightly, he said, "'m sorry. 'm sorry I leave, 'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be. But this is what we've got."

Biting the side of your cheek, you turned away. Folding your arms around yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut as the gravity of what you'd said hit you. He worked and rode to be with you as often as he could, and here you were complaining about it. The guilt overwhelmed you. He'd never used a tone with you before, and it struck your core like a spear.

After a beat of silence, he seemed to realize what he'd done, and you felt two hands on your shoulders. "Sweet'eart...angel baby, 'm sorry. I shouldn'ta said it like that."

You were silent, eyes closed, head bowed.

There was a sigh behind you, and Billy rubbed your shoulders, nose dropping to your hair. He held it there for a moment. "Say somethin', baby, please."

When you stayed quiet, he pleaded, "Yell at me, cuss me out, hit me. Would you please just say somethin'? Anything?"

You turned after a moment, and when he saw your teary eyes, he pulled you close, rocking your body back and forth. Billy didn't say anything else- he didn't have to. He guided you to sit on the bed, holding you tightly in his arms and laying gentle kisses to your head, trying desperately to soothe you.

After forever of silence, Billy pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, laying down on the bed with you and holding your tired body tight to his chest. He murmured promises into your hair that you weren't sure were possible to keep, even though it was clear he desperately wanted to.

That was the crux of your relationship. Wanting. Wanting with no fruition. You'd been plunged into icy water, the reality of your future weighing down on your mind. Even as he held you, you felt him slipping away.

When you awoke the next morning, he was gone again.

[youraveragetorturedpoet]

Taylor Swift Albums As: Aesthetics/Random Things

DEBUT: green meadows, wildflowers, sundresses with boots, car radios, back country roads, laughing so hard you cry, pickup trucks, butterflies, innocence, freckles, having all the time in the world, fireflies, moonlit lakes, old blue jeans, front porches, sweet tea, hot lazy summer days

FEARLESS: gold sparkles, rainfall/storms, high school years, fairy tales, schoolyards, princesses and princes, old books of ancient tales, waiting, clocks, knights in armor, prom, phone calls, broken promises, smiles, fighting for a cause, mutual pining, school gyms, band practice

SPEAK NOW: any and all shades of purple, trepidation in love, storybooks, fancy ballgowns, big cities, liars, awkward meetings, sparklers, crowded rooms, flames to embers, poetic endings, fighting dragons, castles, old antiques, summertime, fireworks, roses, using your voice, farewell to childhood

RED: classic red lipstick, foggy mornings, notes on pictures, trains, planes, autumn, things changing in the blink of an eye, lockets, distance, mosaics, busy streets, vintage, weeping alone, yearning, longing, the cost of fame, scarves, lattes, sleek hair, echoes, starlight, cafes, hoping against hope

1989: retro, blinding lights, vanilla ice cream, seagulls, daisies, carefree days, the beach/the ocean, tabloids, paper planes, rumors, sky blue, car rides at twilight, waves/water, wild parties, sequins, marquees, running, finding yourself, reinvention, recklessness, prime of life

REP: haunted by living ghosts, sexy, buried alive, black & crimson & white, illusions, hard liquor, snakes, "burn the witch", the perfect crime, revenge, trickery, love is a drug, cautiously optimistic, the girl you knew is dead, sleeping a lot, burning bridges, darkest nights with a starry sky

LOVER: pastels, summer nights, dirty jokes, star signs, cozy home, American classic, cheers, full moons, sunsets, rooftops, drunk in a car, new chapters, religious themes, pleading, any and all shades of pink, playing games, accepting someone fully, denial, kitchens, memories, apologies, bars, sunsets

FOLKLORE: grays & muted blacks, beginnings, spring, summer, stars, bleeding from old wounds, trains, a midnight sea, bus stops, old film reels, funeral for old self, braids, lies, pretending, rumors, waiting by the phone, malls, wishes, drowning, jewels, old tales of those who came before, August and July

EVERMORE: bronze & shades of brown, snow, endings, reunions, fall and winter, moving on, old friends, a weekend tryst, true crime podcasts, healing from deep wounds, ivy and greenery, stuck on repeat, crescent moons, November and December, willow trees, bubbling champagne, following dreams, watching from the sidelines

MIDNIGHTS: sultry, dark wine, hurt but not dead, friendship bracelets, navy blue and mustard yellow, moonstones, honey, cats, vulnerability, auroras, impossible things, growing up, rain and snow, time portals, politics, meteors, shimmering, recognizing your worth, simplicity, chess, emotional infidelity, glitches

TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT: quill pens, white, the scent of old books, denial & anger & bargaining & grief & acceptance, typewriters, exhaustion, profound sadness, mental institutions, the price of fame, refiners fire, childhood stories, nostalgia, ancient prophecies, hotel rooms, dolls, mental health issues, reading Aristotle just because, going in kicking and screaming but coming out alive

[sweetracha]

First Sleep Over with Stray Kids

Goodnight Moon: Lee Know

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (Smut), Sugary Sweet (Fluff), Sour Sweet (Mild Angst)

Allery Warning: Idol Member, Secret Relationship, Lowkey Unhealthy Relationship, Possessive Minho, Dom Minho, Nicknames (Kitten, Princess, Master, Sir), 'Public' Intercourse

The Sweetest Treats: @cr4ziee0szn

Confectioner's Note: This is my first time actually writing smut. While I read it, it was definitely different to write it. Hope you all enjoy!

Amber glows through the cracks of the log as embers burn out into a dark night sky becoming the stars. The moon chandeliers above as the subtle fog surrounds the venue. The world became the stage for lovers, dancing as if a part of nature itself.

Minho held you close. His hold was gentle as if he'd shatter you but secure as not to let the soft breeze take you from him. Nothing will take you from him again. 

All Min knew was flashing lights, tabloids, gossip, packed stadiums, little sleep, and dancing. That was his safety in this all. When he danced he was able to block out the whole world around him. It didn’t matter if he was one of the biggest idols or an absolute nobody, dancing was his lifeline. Then he met you. 

You were working at a small cafe located in the heart of Seoul. Patrons easily missed the quiet escape amongst the hustle and bustle of the city. Music played over the speakers in a low hum. Almost unconsciously you swayed along. Slowly you began to lose your mind to the calm melodic tunes. DING! You snapped to attention as the little sliver bell rang, alerting you of a customer. There you were met with a different Lee Know than the world knew. No longer was he the confident, cocky, stone-cold idol. Instead, he was a shy captivated boy who now knew what his childhood storybooks meant by love at first sight. Sweet as the sugar you baked with, you greeted him. 

The next year went by like a flash. Two comebacks, a world tour, hosting, and everything else that took him away from you. As an idol, he was not allowed to date, especially a nobody like you. He hated how the company described you that way after finding out. JYP himself organized a meeting to discuss "outside influences" affecting the team. Minho's blood boiled when he saw those words. The boys loved you! Chan saw you as a gift to them. The maknaes came to you for comfort most days. Even Changbin admitted on more than one occasion that he would protect you from any threat. To imply you were hurting the team made Minho want to quit altogether.  But he knew that wouldn't be what you wanted. You told him one night after a tearful confession that he was not allowed to pick you over his career, you made him swear by it. 

So without much of a choice, he had to break your heart. He showed up at your apartment and delivered the bad news then left. The staff made him delete all your information and scrub any trace of his once beloved sweetheart from his life. 

Or at least that's what the company believed.  After the meeting concluded Chan pulled Min swiftly into a supply closet, sporting looks of confusion from other idols. Christopher laid out the plan in full. Lee Know was to remain single and tell the public the reason why he frequented the bake shop was upon staff's request. However, Lee Minho would be fully committed to his blushing love as long as he kept it hidden. That meant no photos, no open lines of communication, and no more visiting his favorite Cafe. Everything began to weigh on you two until a little chicken came up with an idea.

"Why don't you two go camping?" Felix stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We can't 'just go camping' Felix, it's not that easy" Minho snapped back, he hated talking about you in this way. "Why? Chan only stated that you two can't be in public or visit each other's places…the woods are pretty private if you ask me" Lixie said with a hint of suggestion and a wink in his eye. He was right though, camping had been another escape for Minho before his life became crazed. Maybe it could be an escape now for the two of you? A place where he can have you all to himself, where no one can get in the way.

“I need you” he stated bluntly. His sudden words shook you out of your trance. With a giggle you responded “But you have me”

Long slender fingers tilted your chin upwards, making you stare into Minho’s now possessive eyes. “Kitten I need to show the world you are mine. I need every single living thing to know only I can have my kitten.” You nodded and he approved of your now redding complexion. 

Minho laid you down on the previously discarded blanket you two used for dinner. Soft fabric barely protected you from the rough ground but you didn’t care, not with how Min is feeling you up. He groped and grabbed as if he needed to know this wasn’t a dream. The now naked beauty in front of him was too good to be true.

“Minho touch me, please” You pleaded as he took his sweet time savoring your skin under his lips. You tasted as if you were created in that little cafe he loved so much. “Please sir” your weak little voice lit a fire in him.

“Look at you begging for me darling. Your sweet little moans are so tempting kitten. We are alone you know? Finally alone…and I am going to give you so many reasons to scream” His eyes went dark.

Minho lowered himself down your body as he slowly spread your legs. His grip was enough to tell you not to move them. While you both knew you were more than capable of being a brat, the way he was acting tonight told you that you better behave. A gentle test lick was given to your clit not long after a confident stripe followed. 

“You taste fucking delicious kitten, and you sound even better” he continued with his actions upon hearing your cries of pleasure. Once he felt you were wet enough, Minho easily slipped in two fingers. “I haven’t had time to fuck you properly baby, You've gotten so tight on me again. I need to prep you isn’t that right pretty girl?” His words were sweet but laced with a mocking tone. You were drunk on him. All you could do was cry out incoherent statements as Minho felt you clench around his digits. “Come on baby, you know what to do. Show the stars just how good I can make you feel.” With one final thrust, he felt you convulse through your orgasm. Min helped you down from your high but in your foggy state, you didn’t notice him pull his cock free from his sweats. It wasn’t until you felt the tip pushing through your entrance did you realize.

“I can’t it's too much” Your oversensitive mind took over. “You can princess, you are going to lay there like a good obedient kitten and take what I give you. Got it?” “too big” “I said ‘Got it’” Minho emphasized with a hand to your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you whined out in satisfaction. 

He wanted to start slow, he really did. But with the way you were looking at him, glossy-eyed and innocent as you babbled away he had to ram into you. Quickly he sent a hard and steady pace that made you scream out. It was when you went completely silent, face contorting in pure ecstasy that he knew he found it. “Does that feel good kitten, did your master find your sweet spot?” he asked rhetorically as he slammed into that spot over and over again. With the way you were clenching around him, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He doubled his efforts if that was even possible.

“PLEASE” is all you could get out before you constricted again. “Cum for me pretty kitty, fucking cum” and with that you did. Shortly after Minho followed with a rumbling growl of your name. He fell next to you on the blanket, heart beating rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. A warm soft feeling came over him. Looking down he found a sleepy kitten curled into his chest. He knew he needed to clean you up and take you into the tent…but that can wait for a few moments. Right now he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to spend time with his true escape. 

Sleep Over Series Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N

[miguelswifey04]

Miguel with reader that loves to garden and almost everyday when Miguel comes home he sees her weeding or planting and she always gives him plants for his office so it looks more homey and one night you invite some of the spider people to dinner and there like “wow” and talking out how it looks like something out of a story book and you all eat outside for dinner and sometimes Miguel and reader play music and dance together

miguel o’hara x gardener! f reader

you and miguel are two peas in a pod, and your love for gardening and plants is a literal and metaphorical expression of your love with miguel.

miguel, coming home after a long day of work, would often find you in the garden, your hands covered in soil as you lovingly tended to your plants. the vibrant colors and sweet scents enveloped the air, creating a serene oasis that melted away the stresses of the day. with each passing day, your garden grew into a paradise, blooming with an array of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. it became your sanctuary, a place where you poured your love and care, and miguel couldn't help but be captivated by your passion and dedication.

as miguel entered his office, he would always find a new plant lovingly placed on his desk, a gift from you. the plants brought life and a touch of home to his otherwise sterile workspace, creating a cozy and comforting atmosphere. one evening, you decided to extend your nurturing spirit beyond your private haven. you invited the spidey squad, along with miguel’s colleagues, for a dinner gathering in your backyard. the garden was blooming in full splendor, a picturesque scene straight out of a storybook.

the spider squad marveled at the beauty and tranquility of the garden, their eyes twinkling with wonder. they admired the vibrant flowers, the carefully arranged herbs, and the lush greenery that enveloped the space. it felt like stepping into a fairy tale, a slice of paradise hidden within the bustling city. as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the garden, the group gathered around a long table adorned with fresh flowers and flickering candlelight. the aroma of delectable dishes filled the air, carefully prepared by you, whose love for gardening extended to your culinary skills.

under the starry sky, laughter and stories filled the air as you all savored the delicious meal. miguel and you took turns entertaining your guests, sharing tales, and eliciting smiles and hearty laughter. the tranquil setting was amplified by the playful melodies of music dancing on the gentle breeze.

miguel and you, your hearts entwined, took to the makeshift dance floor. with each step, your souls connected, and every spin and dip spoke volumes of your love and joy. it was a moment frozen in time, surrounded by friends and nature's embrace. as the night wound down, the Spider Squad bid farewell, their hearts filled with gratitude for the enchanting evening they had experienced. they couldn't help but express their amazement at the beauty of the garden, a testament to your tender care and love.

for miguel and you, the night was a testament to the power of love, nature, and the simple pleasures of life. your garden, once a personal haven, had become a space where friendships blossomed, laughter filled the air, and moments were etched into memory. and so, as the stars twinkled overhead and the scent of blooming flowers lingered, miguel and you found solace in knowing that your garden would forever hold the echoes of your love and the cherished memories you had created. in that peaceful haven, you danced, your hearts and souls intertwining, forever rooted in the beauty of your shared journey.

tags 🏷️!! @astro1bloom @kairiscorner @meeom @sabcandoit @obi-mom-kenobi @emiemiemiii

[moldygreenblue]

my speculative fanfic of how sally encountered 'it' that she talks about in the happy haunting to boo and yours storybook record + how sally deals with 'it' (because you can't tell me that sally only had one encounter with 'it'):

it had started like like every day before today. it should had ended like every day after. it should have been another end of a beautiful day in home.

sally keeps quiet as she looks out her window. sally just came back to her house, after walking julie home. julie insisted she's fine by herself, but sally persisted. sally doesn't regret it, but sally knows that it knows. and it no doubt is angry. as she looks down from her window, sally sees the nearby bushes rustling. that rustling is not from wind, for sally didn't felt a cool breeze blowing when walking back to her house earlier from julie's. before it was completely dark.

it began at dusk, when the last shred of light from the star that sally can daresay almost rivals her own dazzling light was gone. sally was leaving dear sweet poppy's home late due to a conversation after a wonderful dinner that went longer than planned. when sally left, the leaves of the trees of the forest rustled, the flowers are standing and perky, and crickets chirped.

sally pulls away from the window and closes it. she now has her back against the wall. a part of her hopes that tonight, everything will be different. that tonight will be like all other nights in home like before. sally tells herself this over and over again as she hugs herself tightly, with the ever-growing heavy thuds of it approaching her house.

it only occurred to sally when she was only halfway to her home that she wasn't feeling the cool breeze flowing pass her face, the flowers were wilting -almost dead given their darken colors- and that the cricket chirps all stopped unexpectedly. crickets while quiet in the winter, should be playing their song in the summer.

as the heavy thuds from outside came closer to her house. sally can faintly smell the decay from her close window; the odor is foul and strong to where it can penetrate through solid walls from afar.

it had sally pausing in her steps. the rustling of the leaves in the trees stopped in sync with her. sally hesitatingly took a few steps back before stopping. the rustling began as she walked, and ended as she stopped. sally took one step forward, and heard a snapping noise. sally felt a jolt run up her body, but told herself she stepped on a twig. when she looked down, sally saw she stepped on nothing.

sally soon hears the heavy thuds outside her house. she can now fully smell the putrid odor.

it took sally only a mere second to break out into a sprint.

sally swallows the lump in her throat as the heavy thuds comes to abrupt stop, and the odor quickly vanishes as if it never existed. sally waits for it to make its next move. sally wonders if it will keep lurking outside her house like many other nights, or if it trying to wait for the right moment to climb up her house to her window and break the rules just to get her for taking away its next meal.

it follow, because of course it follows. sally heard the fast-pace thuds following her and the unnatural rustling of the leaves. sally could faintly smell something rotten reaching her nose. sally sprints as fast as her legs can until reaching her house, when an idea struck.

sally drops her hands and closes her eyes. she takes a deep breathe in and out. if it's going to be the latter, sally has to be prepare. if it's the former...well, it has to remember who its dealing with! sally is going to give a reminder to it what she is. who she is still.

'scra-scra-scra.' 'scra-scra-scra.'

sally exhales one more time as it climbs up her house.

"gruc. gruc. gruc."

it was ages ago when sally broke through the atmosphere to the planet she made her current home at. but sally remembered her plan. she planned for everyone to see how bright she shines, in the figurative sense. as one playwright wrote, all the world's a stage, and sally wants the audience to see her brilliance. tonight, sally decided to show her current audience how bright she shines in the literal sense.

sally stood up and opens her eyes. she can soon feel the warmth of her body taking on a physical manifestation of light. sally stands with her arms out open, and she can hear the loud hissing of it, and the heavy thuds of it falling and running back to wherever it came from.

it when expose to light, sally learned, shriveled. the form it took when weaken, from what sally could see from her dazzling brilliance, frightens her. it is a form she wasn't expecting for something otherworldly. it had sally scare and questioning everything she thought she knew of her current home.

sally stays in her position until her legs tremble, and she collapses onto her knees. sally stares down at the floor, and feels her warmth growing colder, and sees her strong light becoming a soft glow. sally stares at her close window.

it was the start of the many nights in home that sally grew to endure and adapt to. in this small, charming little town, there was something lurking among home, no one knowing of it until now.

sally thinks how it's just another end to a beautiful day at home.

[justalittletomato]

of stews and regrets ( Dad! Maul and co)

you know how long its been since I did a fic? A long time! So happy to get something out! Have some angst as a treat!

@eyecandyeoz @patchiefrog @apocalypticwafflekitten @storm89 @pixiestookourstardust @hannagoldworthy @gran-maul-seizure @mando-cyare

The insistent beep of the steamer went off, the familiar aroma of seasoned meat and vegetables wafted throughout the small ship. It was the very last the prepared food his Star had packed for him. After this it was ration bars. 

He scoffs, once he had no trouble scarfing those bars when it was required for him to eat. Food was a necessity.  Now his stomach protested at the thought of those dry and tasteless things. 

His Starlight had spoiled him, cooking mouthwatering foods and sharing meals in close quarters. Tender meats and stews that were full of spices and burnt his tongue.  A pocket potato bundled into his pack filled with cheeses and bit of bacon. He has cured the meat himself and had it smoking, he had taking a liking to preparing meats and meals alongside his Star. 

A final plate of bantha steak and grilled vegetables…packed up neatly and with care. The terrors as he and the others had dubbed them aided with preparing this trove of food. The littest Danica, with her toothy grin, was pleased with herself as she had aided with the meat this time. The zabrak licked her lips after sampling a piece, declaring the meat , “ a masterpiece” 

“There will be plenty more when you come back!” she declared, he gave her a smile while his Starlight would not look at him. He was leaving again. 

Maul was too hasty too starved, before he registered it the plate was empty. “A clean plate!” the terrors would glady cheer. Yes a clean plate, for once he did not celebrate it. 

—

“Maybe we should make…” Little Danica declared to her buir as they walked the passages of the Fortress. Aria Baras tried her best to smile and follow with Danica’s happy plans for what to prepare for when Maul returned, whenever that may be. 

“Maybe some Bantha too! Ba’vodu Savage said it was nice and ready for us to cook up!” Aria was thankful for Savage, Maul’s brother was trying his all to step in as father to the youngest. Though Danica would firmly keep her storybooks tucked under her pillow, only Maul was allowed to read her to sleep, “We will lose our place, ba’vodu,” she explained, “and you don’t do the voices as well as my buir”  

How long would Danica wait so hopeful that Maul would return?  Aria’s eyes wandered to the closed doors of the hanger, how long would she stay and wait? 

—-

Elsewhere in the galaxy Cress Oppress cursed under his breath and set back the sweet potato he has grabbed. It was only him and Leta, no need for more. At the Fortress with the terrors  there was always room for more, “Extra is always best” his beloved buir would say tossing in another cut up sweet potato into the pot.  

His buir always ensured there was extra food, growing up Cress was always the one who asked for seconds and maybe even thirds if possible. His ba’vodu Savage had joked that Cress had inherited double the appetite. His buir, Maul had sported a fond smile at the joke. 

He didn't feel so hungry now, and put the potato away. 

You aren't him. You aren't going to turn into him. 

As if trying to cover the mirrors in the ship weren't always a step too far.  The meat sizzled in the pan, he and his sweetheart were able to take down some game on their mission and Cress wanted to ensure she ate well.  He preferred to think he was more like his buir, Starlight.  Always taking care of others and making sure their tummies were full. 

The mix of spices were just like hers, but it never tasted the same to him. He missed her terribly. He missed her humming away as she worked and stirred the pot, he had been at her side helping as far as he could remember. Always rewarded with the first sampling of the food. He and his twin Aster would at times battle for the first plate. She often won with a sizable bite to his hand or shoulder.  His buir would scold her for the biting and send her to the table second. Cress nursing his bandaged hand. His buir always took care of him. 

The pan sizzled at the drops of water splashing on the surface. He missed his buir. He missed home. 

—- 

Maul gagged at the chalky taste of the ration bar. Forcing another bite of it down his throat despite the protests of his stomach. He had to eat. 

Finally finished he tossed the wrapper to the far side of the ship. He glanced at the meager pile of supplies.  A potato a carrot… even some packed ham….he could cook up something. He knew how. He could. 

Yet he remained sitting at the helm, leaving the supplies to sit there until he tossed them at the next station in exchange for more ration bars. 

He deserved this. He left. He deserved this.

[thatssomuchlove]

Fic-O-Ween Day 10

Characters by the lovely @lumosinlove and fest organized by @noots-fic-fests!!

Prologue for a Stardust AU (a sort of hodge-podge of book and movie) featuring the one and only Ramsey O'Hara:

Ramsey’s scrap of sanity was getting pretty threadbare. He loved his son dearly; he loved his wailing and crying son so dearly, but he was going crazy. He knew that losing his wife in childbirth was just as tough on his baby as it was on him (he hadn’t loved her like the storybooks say, but it was a practical match and they really were very good friends), but god he just hadn’t had a break in over a year. That’s why Ramsey had written to his sister to come stay with him for a little bit. He needed the company, he needed the help, and he desperately needed the pot of tea she was making for them in the kitchen. Alex had quieted down by the time Shannon brought their teacups to the sitting room where Ramsey was bouncing him in his arms. He breathed a quiet word of thanks to his sister before sitting down in his armchair with one arm around Alex where the baby was now sleeping on his chest and the other raising the tea to his lips.

“Ramsey, darling, you look exhausted,” Shannon started.

“Ah, well I can’t imagine why,” Ramsey responded before taking a sip from his teacup. She just gave him a look over the rim of hers.

“How about I take him for a bit? You need some fresh air,” his sister suggested.

Ramsey clutched Alexander a little tighter. The boy may wear him out, but he needed Alex as much as Alex needed him, if not more. His child was the last piece of his wife that he had left, and sometimes letting him go felt impossible.

“I am perfectly capable of putting him down,” Shannon added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all right.” But Ramsey was slow to get up and hand Alex over. He really was such a sweet baby. Those huge brown eyes framed by dark red lashes could bend Ramsey’s will on anything, and he felt their pull even while they were closed peacefully. He grabbed his coat then bid them goodbye with a kiss to his sister’s cheek and his baby’s soft, sweet-smelling head. Right before he was out the door, he turned back to the people that mattered most in his life. “Thank you, Shannon.”

She just smiled and waved him off, and Ramsey stepped out into the cool autumn night air and shut the door softly behind him. He looked up at the stars, fainter in the glow of his porch lamps, and chose a direction. After passing the last house on the lane, he almost stopped dead in his tracks when he felt an urge—the first in a long time—to whistle a tune. Ramsey also felt himself being inexplicably drawn to the wall that inspired the name of his town. It was one of the rare Market Days at the beginning of November. He had rented out one of the rooms in his house to a curious man in a black silk top hat because the inn always filled up very fast, and it was considered rude if the townsfolk did not offer up their homes to the visitors—for acceptable payment of course (though what was considered acceptable varied greatly with this strange lot; Ramsey was currently being paid both in coin and the promise of his and his progenies’ Heart’s Desire). He was only comfortable leaving Shannon alone in the house because he knew that his mysterious tenant always stayed out in the Faerie Market all night. Ramsey had never been to the Market, as he had moved from Ireland less than three years ago. Escaping the growing food scarcity, he started working for sheep farmers in Wall to send money back to his family. He became good friends with the farmer’s eldest daughter; and very quickly, he and Daisy were expected to marry, so they did. They had Alex a year into their marriage, and just like that, she was gone. His in-laws generally took care of Alex while he was working, but he still hadn’t expected to have the time nor the energy to see the Market. However, something about this opportunity that would end tonight and not come again for nine years was suddenly irresistible.

When Ramsey emerged from the tree line to see the wall guarded by none other than Mad-Eye Moody himself, he was surprised to find no one passing through either way. Still, he nodded to Moody and attempted to go through the crumbling gap in the wall before his chest bumped into the cane that Moody had thrust out in front of him.

“You can’t pass through the wall, O’Hara,” Moody said in his rough, gravelly voice.

“Why but it is a Market Day,” Ramsey responded with his eyebrows pinched together.

Moody stared at him hard, “yes, but I only let people through midday to dusk. It is not safe over there after nightfall.”

“Oh,” Ramsey knew that Moody was not someone who could be bargained with. “Well… that sounds rather final. Better just go home then, I suppose.” Ramsey turned around to make it appear that he was heeding Moody’s warning, but that last strand of sanity had finally snapped.

“Good,” Moody started walking back to his seat off to the side of the gap. He wasn’t fast enough to stop Ramsey when the young man suddenly turned back around and sprinted towards the wall, leaping through the gap and not stopping to the shouts of “wait!” and “O’HARA!” that followed him into the forest on the other side of the wall. Ramsey knew that Moody would not leave his post, but he didn’t stop running to catch his breath until he was well into the trees.

The Faerie Market lay outside the town that served as a magical counterpart to Wall. He could hear the hawking of wares and music from instruments he could not identify as he moved closer to the orange glow filtering through the forest. Ramsey did not want to look like a tourist, but he felt like his eyes held the same naïve wonderment as his son’s when he finally entered the Market. Some of the stalls were already closed up as it was past normal hours, but there were still plenty of people selling wild things like parts from animals he had never heard of and bottles of swirling clouds and sweet-smelling food (that he knew very well not to take thanks to his Maimeó). He felt almost in a trance as he wandered the winding rows of stalls until sharp awareness flooded back as he beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen standing behind a table of small glass flowers that chimed delicately. She had long curly auburn hair hanging loose over bare shoulders and past the neckline of her blue dress with ruffled skirts. Her violet eyes and pointed ears alerted his brain that she could be dangerous, but his heart told him that it didn’t matter.

She caught him staring, “See anything you like?”

It was then that the man with the black silk top hat passed by, though Ramsey did not notice his presence or whisper of a debt being paid in full.

“Definitely,” Ramsey breathed. He could not stop looking at the woman, and when she smiled in response, he lost all higher brain function. He averted his eyes to the flowers and stammered, “they- they are very lovely,” and he picked up a violet that seemed to sing as he held it, “how much?”

“We don’t take money at this stall.”

Ramsey cocked his head, “what do you take?”

“I could take the pattern of freckles on your cheeks… or your memories of the rain. I could even take your ability to smell fresh baked bread or the spice of autumnal air.”

Ramsey put down the flower, feeling a little out of his depth, but he would give up quite a bit just to keep talking to her.

“What is your name?”

She smiled sadly, “I no longer have a name,” and she held up her skirts just enough to show a silver chain tied around her ankle, “I am a slave, and the name I had was taken from me by the witch-woman who owns this stall.”

Ramsey tried not to let too much of his horror show on his face, “And you are her slave forever?”

“No, not forever. But the conditions in which I gain my freedom are not so easily met. My mistress lured me out of my father’s lands and caught me many years ago. I dream of the day that I can return to them as a free woman.” The young woman, who had been looking out unseeing into the middle distance, returned her gaze to Ramsey, “Will you buy a flower from me, young master?”

“My name is Ramsey,” he told her, having been enraptured by her sad tale and forgetting that one must be careful with names in the land of Faerie. He gave the table another look and picked up a white snowdrop that he knew Alex would like. “And what would this cost me?”

“That one would cost a kiss, just here on my cheek,” and she tapped it coyly.

Ramsey grinned at her, “oh that I will pay gladly,” and he kissed the soft skin of her cheek. He felt the overwhelming desire to linger and continue breathing in the inviting, magical scent of the woman, but he pulled away and searched her unusual violet eyes.

“Will you stay awhile? My mistress will not be back for some time,” she asked.

The quickness with which Ramsey started nodding made him pause, “I feel as if I am under some sort of spell.”

Her laugh was even more wondrous than her smile. “You are under no spell, pretty boy,” and she led him to sit in the grass between the painted caravan and her table of wares.

They both looked up at the stars in the clearing between the trees, and Ramsey could not help but remark on the unidentifiable difference to the ones he saw mere hours ago on his side of the wall, “these stars, they seem like… more.”

The woman beside him (she was so close, but he could feel the inches between them so distinctly) hummed melodically and asked, “What are your stars like?”

She looked at him as he struggled to name the difference, “They are beautiful.” He met her gaze and his breath caught, “But everything feels so much more alive here.”

“What about you? Do you feel more alive?”

He didn’t tell her about the challenges he was facing back home—grief, loneliness, homesickness—but he had a feeling she knew anyway. “I think I do,” he whispered and brought a hand to the cheek that he had kissed. He leaned in, and she brought her mouth to his. The desire that Ramsey had felt from that first kiss on her cheek multiplied tenfold, and it felt only natural when she led him through the small door of the yellow caravan.

~

When Shannon scolded him and told him she was this close to forming a search party at the late hour that he finally returned to his home, Ramsey made up some story to placate her and quickly fell into bed (but not before placing the snowdrop carefully on his bedside table), utterly exhausted and strangely content.

~

Nine months later, Ramsey received a surprise in a basket delivered by Moody to his doorstep after hearing a knock at dinner time. The surprise had a little bit of fuzzy red hair and startlingly familiar chocolate brown eyes when he opened them to peer up at Ramsey curiously.

Moody stated gruffly, “This was left at the wall for you. It says his name is Finn.”

All Ramsey could do was stare at the man, and then at the baby.

“Dada! More, peas,” Ramsey heard from where Alex was seated in his highchair at the dinner table.

“One second, a leanbh,” Ramsey called back to Alex before taking the basket from Moody. He told the man thank you and received a grunt in response before closing the door and heading back into the dining room. He set the baby and basket onto the table and picked up the piece of paper that had “Finn Callahan O’Hara” written in looping cursive. There was also a letter and a small package addressed to Finn tucked into the side of the basket that he did not touch.

“What dat?” Alex asked, trying to peer over the edge of the basket, and while there was no written confirmation, Ramsey knew. He knew that he was going to do this again. But he didn’t feel as alone this time. He had Alex, he had his sister, and he had the people in his community, like Iva and Marius, who were always willing to help.

Ramsey gently lifted Finn into his arms and held him so that Alex could get a good look. “This is your little brother Finn,” Ramsey said to Alex and watched his eyes go wide. He then turned to the baby, who had reached out his hand at the sight of the toddler. “Finn, this is your big brother Alexander.”

At least it was going to be easier to get Alex to believe the stork story now.