#THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS INDULGING ME WITH THESE SILLY LITTLE DREAMS IT MEANS A LOT A LOT TO MEEEEEEEEEE

[teddybeartoji]

RUBS MY LITTLE HANDS TOGETHER ….. you are never safe from me >:3333

☕️ with misu !!!! ☀️ with ming !!!!!! 🌤️ with mirin !!!!!!! 🧇 with michuu !!!!!! aaaaand 📖 with miji …. :3c pretty please. (i put much thought into all of these btw) (also v v v optional but. if you have any thoughts about you and … a certain softie redhead . pyro user. 👁️👁️ i would love to hear ….. maybe 📖 ???)(ONLY IF U WANT TO THOUGH …..) (i love you. in my mindpalace i am serving you breakfast in bed and the sun is shining through the blinds and i am content to simply watch you from the doorway)

ARIARIARIARIARIARARIARIARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

☕️: do y’all make coffee or tea? what do they put in their coffee/tea?

OKOK SO TECHNICALLY WE DID ALREADY TALK ABT THIS BUT BUT BUT he gets either a cup of black coffee or earl gray aaand i have a cappuccino of some kind:333333333 and i say 'some kind' because now that i think about it.... currently i have this machine that takes those coffee pods right? but he wouldn't.. really like that now would he.................... so we probably have some kind of a fancy machine that he's very proud of lmao

i'm not very picky about my coffees or my teas but since he IS very serious about them i let him pamper me with whatever he thinks is best for me (he knows . what's best for me) and most of the time he's the one making the drinks anyway you know how he is in the kitchen............................

he definitely uses way less sugar than i do and he does find me trying to test his drinks every once in a while very amusing . i don't know why i keep doing it when i already know i won't like it....................... i never said i was smart alright............................ it is sickening how he knows exactly how much sugar/honey i want though bc sometimes even i myself don't know and i put too much or too little.....................

☀️: if they wake you up, how do they do it? with a kiss? or pushing you off the bed?

MY SLEEPY CAT HUSBANDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!! oh he's definitely just straight up staring at me while i sleep huh... well GAZING at me very fondly is a better way to put it i think. laughs to himself when i scrunch my nose in my sleep when he ghosts his fingers over the apples of my cheeks and then swoons a little when i try to curl further into him mmmmmmmmmm

when it's finally time to wake me up he goes in for the head kiss while whispering in his raspy raspy voice (as if this won't make me want to sleep even more?????????) i am quite hard to wake up though,, like i will stay half-asleep for at least another thirty minutes i can't just WAKE UP and start doing things and unfortunately for me he finds this very cute too hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh he'll tease me about being a sleepyhead while making absolutely zero effort to get me out of the bed lmao

🌤: are either of you morning people? if not, what’s your pick me up?

I THINK WE'RE BOTH MORNING PEOPLE . ok i am some fake half assed morning person i think.... ANYWAY he definitely always wakes up first bc he wants to go on a run and do his stretches this is what he's used to but he does spend a good few minutes just O . O staring at me before getting out lmao most likely he'll come and try to coax me out of bed when he's finally done with his excercises and his shower and it's a very sweet thing bc he doesn't know how to do itashgdghsaghdgahsh i make him work for it a bit and that's my pick me up:333333333

and by that yes i mean that i will pretend to be asleep so he'll have to try different ways, he'll just whisper at first but then after some time he decides to go for the sleeping beauty kiss and it's soooashgdhgsadghashg do his ears go red every single time? yes. does he continue to do it even though by now he knows i'm messing with him? yes. #true love

🧇: do they cook breakfast? or do you? what breakfast?

ARI CHUU IS SO GRUMPY IN THE MORNINGS IT'S SO FUCKING CUTEEEEE😭😭😭😭😭 he's literally just glued to my back and i think this is like the only . selfship where i'm the one cooking the breakfasthgsadhgsadghghsa I LOVE IT THOUGH DON'T GET ME WRONG it's very endearing to see him like this i love feeding him toast over the shoulder hehehehee

OH AND the breakfast varies a lot sometimes it's smth like french toast sometimes it's an omlette i try to think abt our schedules before making anything so i can be sure that he won't get hungry when he's running errands or anything yk?

📖: do you have a routine? what is it?

WITH TOJI . WE DO EVERYTHING TOGETHER IN THE MORNINGS. we just kind of developed this routine without ever putting any thought into it but we usually get up at the same time, then we go to the bathroom at the same time, we brush our teeth, he takes a shower while i give shrimpy his morning pets and pats aaand then we're off to the kitchen. we're kind of stuck together in the morning part of the day i really don't know how it happened but i do really love it!!!!!!!!!!!!

he will make the food while i make us both coffee and then i usually either sit on the windowsill or behind him at the table aaand then we eat together!!!!!!!!!!!! it's very very sweet and we try to take the mornings as slow as possible this is how we like it:333333333

NOWWWWWWWWWWWW with mr diluc.. hgsadhsagdhsagdas okok so you know that this is still very very new and i was just thinking abt how i need to come to you bc you know him a bit better than i do so you can help me figure US out buuuuuuuuuuut i do think we'd have a bit of a routine going on...... not quite like with toji though bc i feel like diluc would start his day a bit earlier and he'd rather take a shower and then . come and wake me up and theen he'd go to the kitchen to make us something already hmmmmm i feel like he would try to let me sleep in more.......... which is fine I GUESSS bc then i get to do that good old back hug thing while he's cooking:33333333 i will be nuzzling into his back i might even crawl under his shirt nyehehhee

morning selfship asks<3333333

[acacia-may]

Hi Acacia! 💕

Could I have 1, 15 and 24 for your ask game?

Hi Lola! I'm always so excited to hear from you. Thank you so much for the ask and for playing this writing excerpt game! 🥰 I chose exclusively from my BC library for you and hope you’ll enjoy these 💕

1 An excerpt of my writing that makes me smile

If you'll indulge me, I think I'll pick two! ^^ Since I just reread this and have really been thinking about Lorelei a lot recently, here is a snippet from "Lucky" which tells the backstory of how Henry and Lorelei first met when they were children (he's 10 years old and she is 9 here). It was fun writing about a little bitty Henry and giving him a friend since he's so lonely. Just one of those wholesome stories that gave me a lot of warm & fuzzies to write! 💕

Henry’s cheeks turned a bit rose when he realized what he had said, but Lorelei just laughed. “So you’re a mind reader? Can you tell me how I’m feeling right now?” Henry pursed his lips together. It usually didn’t work the way Lorelei thought. He mainly picked up on subtle differences and changes in mana signatures. What she was asking him to do know would essentially be reading her mind, but… “I can try.” Closing his eyes, Henry took a deep breath and searched for Lorelei’s mana. Once again he was struck by how warm it was in the softest, most gentle way. He could almost think of what it reminded him of, but he still couldn’t put a word to it. And he certainly couldn’t figure out her emotion from it. “I don’t know…” he admitted at last with a defeated sigh. He decided to make an educated guess. “Disappointed?” He would have been disappointed if he was her given the circumstances and the fact she would be stuck with him in this dreary old house when they grew up. “No,” she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m happy.” “Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. “Because you’re Henry Legolant, and you’re nice. I guess I really am lucky.” Henry’s face flushed a deep red, and he stumbled over his words until he eventually managed to choke out, “Lucky?” “Mhmm…like my magic. It’s lucky magic, and even if it’s weak, it still makes good things happen for me. Like when I almost fell down the stairs, but you saved me. And my parents picking out a stranger for me to marry when I get older, but he’s actually really nice and my friend.” “Friend?” Henry repeated the word incredulously. He shook his head in disbelief. Had she really said they were…? Could they really be friends? “Of course we’re friends, silly,” Lorelei chuckled, and Henry blushed red as he wondered if it was, in fact, Lorelei who could read minds. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks as a warmth began to spread through his chest; however, he stared down at his twisting hands and bit his lip. “I’ve…I’ve never had a friend before...” Lorelei hummed. “Well…you’ve got one now,” she replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Henry could feel her sincerity in the flickers of her kind, comforting mana. As it swirled around him almost like a warm blanket, a smile tugged at his mouth, and he realized what it was her mana reminded him of. It felt like a home—the kind that he had only read about. Somewhere warm, cozy, and safe filled with family and friends who cared for each other. It was only a distant dream for Henry, but…now he had a friend so, perhaps, he could have a home someday too.

I also wanted to include an excerpt from "First Christmas" which is a fluffy little story about all the future Black Bulls celebrating together and trying to make the holiday truly special for Yami and Charlotte's son (since it's his very first one!). This snippet has some YamiChar and Rillmy, so it especially makes me smile! ^^

“Hey!” protested Finral. “You guys are so mean to me. You’re both married and no one ever gives you a hard time about it.”  “That’s because Rill is wonderful”—Charmy beamed at him—“there’s nothing to give me a hard time about, and we were all waited for years for the Captain and Charlotte to get together. When they finally did, we were just so relieved that they had stopped being so dense.” “Charmy, Rill didn’t even know who you were for how long…” bantered Vanessa. “We actually told him that you were his ‘food goddess,’ and he still didn’t get it. I don’t think you get to tease anyone for being dense.”  “That was a mistake,” said Rill apologetically. “But I know who she is now, and we’re very happy!” Finral patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. These things happen.” “He’s still not as dense as Captain Yami,” said Zora dryly. “Listen, I got married before any of you morons so I don’t think I’m the dense one here.” The room grew suddenly quiet as the entire squad just blinked at him. Yami frowned, as Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. She had learned pretty quickly that the Black Bulls had been waiting for her and Yami to get together for almost as long as she had, but she was still getting used to getting teased about it. “She was sending me a lot of mixed signals, okay? I was just trying to be respectful.” Vanessa snorted a laugh before she rolled her eyes. “They weren’t mixed signals. She was totally into you—even Magna noticed.” “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I notice things!” “We were honestly starting to get worried it was never going to happen,” teased Vanessa with a wink, completely ignoring Magna’s protests. “But you figured it out, and now you have this little one.” She turned to Charlotte with a smile, and as ran her hand across Katsu’s back, he turned to look at her with wide blue eyes that looked far older than his years. “And he’s such a cutie! Do you think he’s ready to be held again?” Charlotte nodded as she held Katsu out to her and said, “Sure. Go ahead” to the wide-spread protestations of the rest of the squad who were promptly told to wait their turns. Smiling brightly, Vanessa took the baby and began walking around with him to show off the decorations. “Hi Katsu. Aren’t you just the cutest little man? You look just like your dad���especially with all this messy dark hair. If only we could get him in a Christmas sweater like this.”  Yami frowned. “Don’t even think about it.” 

15. An excerpt of my writing from an old piece that I like

I've decided to choose an excerpt from the first Black Clover fanfiction I ever wrote, Yellow Flowers, (I think only the first chapter is posted to Tumblr, but all 3 chapters are on AO3 and my old FFN account). This fic is my take on the backstory of how Vanessa and Finral became friends shortly after Vanessa joined the Black Bulls, and I'm still really proud of it, even though I think I have a much better grasp on the characters now. This whole scene in final chapter is probably my favorite in the piece, but here's just a snippet of it:

Inhaling sharply, Finral's voice hitched. He turned his entire body away from her, but Vanessa watched as his shoulders began to shake. He sniffled and wiped his hand across his face, and she wondered if he was crying. She stared at him, frozen, her breath getting caught in her lungs and her insides twisting—a pang in her chest. She had felt this once before. Once, when she was in the market with Gordon, she had seen a lost child sobbing and wailing for his mother. She had tried to will her legs to move—to go over and comfort him—but she had frozen, just like this. By the time, she had managed to take a step forward, the boy’s mother had come running towards him and took him into her arms, crying herself. Vanessa had been so relieved, but it had struck a nerve in her and she couldn’t help but think of all the children who didn’t have a family to love them—whose cries went unheard and who were all alone—children like her…like Finral. When she looked at him now, all she could see was a lost, crying child, beaten down so many times with those words: useless, worthless, coward—until he believed them. Her arms seemed to move on their own as she wrapped them around Finral—holding him tightly. “Va…Vanessa,” he half-gasped, half-choked, and Vanessa pulled back slightly. She had never hugged anyone before and worried it had made him uncomfortable. She was beginning to wonder if she should have asked him first, when his stiff shoulders softened and he wrapped his arms around her. Her eyes widened. She had never been hugged either. Since they were around the same height, she pressed her chin to his shoulder and pulled him close. She could feel him shaking—hear his shallow breathing, and she knew he was crying. Something prickled behind her eyes. She didn’t know what to say. She felt…helpless. “I’m so sorry” was all she could manage.   Eventually, he broke away from her wiping his eyes with a breathy, self-deprecating chuckle, “You must think I’m pretty pathetic...” “No,” answered Vanessa shaking her head. “You’re not pathetic at all. Your family is wrong about you. You aren’t useless. Your magic is defensive because you don’t want to hurt anyone—because you’re kind—and it’s incredible. I spent most of my life wishing for magic that could take me anywhere. If I had a power like that…” Vanessa’s voice trailed as she smiled bitter-sweetly off at the horizon. Her voice wavering, she let out a shaky sigh before she continued, “And running away—leaving your House—doesn’t mean you’re weak. Just think about it, you just decided to pack up your things and leave that awful place. You didn’t even have to be rescued…” She paused as her hands trembled, and the words got stuck in the back of her throat. “There are…a lot of people who aren’t strong enough to do that, and the fact that you did…that doesn’t mean that you’re a coward”—her voice hitched—“It means that you’re brave.” His watery eyes widening in shock, Finral’s jaw fell slightly slack. “Brave?” he whispered almost as if he didn’t believe it, and Vanessa nodded. Finral’s face was already red from crying, but she could tell a blush had filled his cheeks as a small smile formed in the corners of his mouth. “I’ve…never been called that before...” He chuckled lightly as his voice trailed. “Thank you, Vanessa.” Vanessa shrugged, but her face flushed. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

24. An excerpt of my writing that makes me go "huh...i wrote that?!"

I don't think I've ever mentioned this on Tumblr before, but I have a very cheeky Black Clover "Choose Your Own Adventure" story called "Surviving The House Vaude Soap Opera." (It was never posted to Tumblr so this is an AO3 link). You are Finral, and it's very silly, purposefully melodramatic, and tongue-in-cheek--definitely not supposed to be taken seriously at all. It started out as an actual game I created with my sister so it's designed to be read with a dice for really randomizing things, but you can also just pick the numbers you want 😅 Obviously it doesn't include every possibility but there are several endings and several possible pairings in there. It's fun but far and away the most wild thing I've ever written for Black Clover and I still can't believe I wrote it.

Here are some excerpts because I amuse myself...(each indented segment is a totally separate thing)

You realize the love of your friends is the only love you will ever need, and you live a long, happy, and unmarried life as uncle to all of the Black Bulls’ children. The… Who are we kidding here?! Roll the Dice.

You are too scared to express your feelings, so you run off to the Forest of Poisonous Beasts to hide out until Mereoleona Vermillion (who has money riding on this relationship) drags you out of there by force and makes you confess. To your shock, Vanessa reciprocates your affections and soon accepts your proposal. You marry. Mereoleona gets her money, and you’re so indebted to her that you name your daughter after her. The End.

Langris suddenly appears and goes off on you for always trying to steal girls from him—why can’t you just find some of your own? he argues failing to recognize that Vanessa was your friend first. It’s like some parallel universe when Langris insists that this time you just have a duel to determine who gets to marry her instead of drawing the whole thing out. He beats you easily and, then, marries Vanessa. To this day you can’t figure out his motives, but you like to think they’re happy and didn’t just marry out of spite or something. You settle down at House Vaude with Lady Finesse and live a quiet, happy life together believing that all’s well that ends well, right? The End.

Your brother Langris in a shocking display of kindness realizes you and Lady Finesse are deeply in love and out of the goodness of his heart—which you always believed he had (despite evidence to the contrary)—decides to step aside so the two of you can marry. 

Langris snaps at you that it’s none of your business and deflects the question before admitting that he can’t be with the woman he loves anyway so it doesn’t matter. Langris is capable of love? You’re so shocked and confused but desperately want to know the identity of this mystery woman. You push Langris for answers, but he refuses to tell you. 

You think some “liquid courage” may help you express your feelings to Vanessa and ask her to have a drink with you. After way more than just “a drink,” you end up kind of yelling “I love you!” at her in a drunken stupor and asking her to marry you to which she points out that the two of you are already married. 

In this category of "Huh? I wrote that?" there's also the entirety of Spite (but let's not talk about that...)

[darkestspring]

Hi, hello, thank you for sticking with this blog for so long and indulging my silly little clown boy ramblings!!! It's an honor to have you all here! as per suggestions. i went with seven deadly sins theme for this followers event. this even will be running until the 7th of august! how this event will work is under the banners for the seven sins will be a series of numbered dialogue prompts you can send in for me to write! (for example; "can i get greed number 12 with aegon?") just as a reminder, i'm only writing for hotd characters (and a few select, such as baelon the brave, aegon the conquerer and his wife) i will only be writing for criston cole in a platonic sense. I will also not be writing for daeron due not knowing how to write for him. I am allowing people to request prompts for my ocs (see my naviagtion for clarifications. if you've stuck around long enough, you'll probably know who they are.) (also i will not be doing lust prompts with daemon! for personal reasons!)

so let's get into it! thank you again for supporting me!

Greed | yandere prompts

You carved out my heart.

2. They tried to take you away from me! I had to do something!

3. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be.

4. You think I'm a monster? You're the one that made me like this!

5. Darling, why are you crying? I took care of the problem.

6. Only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours.

7. I'm all you have left now.

8. Did you really think you could escape?

9. Did they bother you again? Just let me deal with them!

10. I did it out of love!

11. This world doesn't deserve someone as lovely as you.

12. You agreed to be mine, so you must feel the same!

13. At least pretend to love me!

14. You don't have to pretend to love that fool anymore! I got rid of them for you!

15. Can't you see that we're meant to be together!

Envy | obsessive prompts

What's so special about them?

What do they have that I don't?

Give me permission to love you, as if it's the only think you can say.

I know absolutely everything about you.

No matter where you go, I'll find you eventually.

No one else compares to you.

You're ignoring me. Why? Don't you love me?

You haven't even seen the worst I can do.

One day you'll realize you love me just as much as I love you!

I just want you to love me!

I'm in such pain every second we're apart.

After I'm done with you, your thoughts will be plagued by me.

I've completely devoted myself to you, why can't you do the same?

I don't want to hurt you, honey.

I am jealous. I'm so horribly jealous.

Wrath | Angry/angst prompts

I don't love you anymore.

I wish I'd never met you.

Since when did you ever care about me?!

I'm not the one here who's heartless.

You do not deserve my forgiveness.

It's not like you ever understood me anyways.

I wish I loved you less.

That's the problem, you don't care at all.

We're done here.

How could you think that this wouldn't hurt me?

You never loved me, did you?

You made me miserable.

I hope you got what you wanted.

Please don't look at me with such hatred.

Just get out. I- I don't want you here, just leave

Gluttony | yearning/pining prompts

I can't stop thinking about you, even when I try.

I wish I had the courage to tell you how I feel.

If only you knew how much you truly mean to me.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever think about me the way I think about you.

Somehow, you're always on my mind.

You deserve better than what I am right now, but I'm going to keep trying to become someone you deserve.

Do you think I'll ever be worthy of your love?

I'm still in love with you.... and I honestly never stopped.

There's so much I wish I was able to tell you.

If only you knew how I feel about you.

My heart belongs to you, always and forever.

My first instinct is to protect you, no matter the cost.

I'm yearning to hold your hand in mine.

Tell me that you still love me like you used to.

You're the reason I keep holding on.

Sloth | sleepy prompts

I had a lot of dreams about you recently.

Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up.

Can't sleep?

How long has it been since you slept?

The bed is cold without you.

Leave me alone.

Stop moving, I'm trying to sleep.

No, don't get up.

Will you dream of me?

Come on, let's go to bed.

You need rest.

Yeah yeah, I'll sleep in a bit.

Was that a yawn?

Your lap is a comfortable pillow.

I'm too tired to care.

Pride | assorted prompts

I could keep you safe, they're all afraid of me.

You're not as bad as everyone says you are.

I thought you'd like some company.

You look like you've got something to say.

I don't think I've ever seen you smile.

I've never cared for anyone the way I care about you.

I'm not wearing any underwear. Thought you'd like to knoe.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous.

Kiss me again.

I'm not drunk enough for this.

I'm not sick! I'm fine!

My darling, you will never be unloved by me.

Maybe you should tell me what's bothering you.

You had me worried.

I knew you'd be here.

Lust | smut prompts

Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't punish you.

We're really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?

Open your mouth for me, baby.

Is it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?

You can take it, you've done it before.

Just a little more.

Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.

Kiss me properly.

Show me how much you missed me.

Oh, baby, you're drooling everywhere.

Where did this attitude come from?

You like it that much, hm?

Don't tease me.

You know I'm holding back from fucking you over this table, don't push your luck.

Does it make you nervous when I stare?

[softpine]

thank you guys for indulging me, you literally changed my whole mood 💖

@morrigan-sims mac absolutely counts :P i forget how long it's been since you guys have seen him, because he's always running around in the background being a nuisance while i'm trying to set up scenes fjskjds but anyway, thank you sooo much for sharing!! the supernatural elements are definitely my favorite too, i try to keep them balanced because i know they're not for everyone, but i find them so interesting to explore.

steviiiie my girl stevie. i don't pick favorites but she does have a special place in my heart (unfortunately for her, that means i pass a lot of my own issues onto her lmao but what else is writing for?) to answer your question: the dream she had as a kid was just a regular "wishful thinking" type dream, nothing prophetic! but if stevie got the chance, she absolutely would go comfort her younger self. she needed the hug :(

ahh i remember that anon about coco, that's so cool that you guessed that!!

thank you so much for this message, for always giving the best feedback, for being soooo awesome, all that great stuff :') 💖💗

@titoro woahhh i know exactly what post you're talking about and that's so long ago, thank you for being here 🥺💖💖💖 i'm so thankful that you would go out of your way to keep reading, and i hope YOU know how appreciated you are 💗

omg same, i have to rein myself in otherwise i would give you 293293029 alternate universe finns 😭 and that's awesome, my favorite thing is giving characters enough depth where you can be angry at them and also understand them and wish things were different! thank you so much for reading 💖💖

@rebouks WHAT i had no idea you read frozen pines before you joined, that's so cool 🥺 you inspire me constantly so you have no idea how much it means that i inspired you a little bit too. and i'm so happy that's the message you took away; i used to get embarrassed over how much i cared about my silly little NOT LITTLE sim story, but there's no reason for anyone to be embarrassed over anything they care about and have put so much love into creating. i have a lot of pride in what i've created and i hope you do too 💖 thank you so much for sharing, this made me so happy to hear 💗

godddd this is so sweet, thank you so so much for taking the time to share this with me (it's not too much, it's juuust right haha) 💖 these are some of my favorite scenes i've ever worked on, so i'm really glad you like them!! it's rare that i ever look at one of my own posts and wouldn't change anything, but that's how i feel about jada & alisa's confrontation, like it literally jumped out of my brain and onto the screen exactly how i pictured it. it makes me crazyyy 🥴 i just recently re-read the stevie + truck driver story and the funny thing is, i have no memory of whatever "daddy issues tiktok trend" i was angry about, but i'm glad i wrote it. you're not alone in it being a little too relatable lol. NYC griffin!!! i miss him :( he was probably the happiest version of finn we've seen yet. at the very least, he was the version with the most freedom. "i will love you in every life" literallyyy 😭 and he WAS the catalyst for asa and finn's real kiss omg. asa would've taken way longer to confess his feelings were it not for NYC griffin. pour one out for him!! sjksjd thank you soooo much for this lovely message 💖💖

ahhh that's a huge compliment, thank you 🥺💖

@bitchyybabyy400 omg if i was an outsider and casper/talon's kiss was the first thing i saw, i'd back out soooo fast (i'm really sensitive to second-hand embarrassment fjksjds) so i applaud you for sticking around :') and an IDEA BOOK that's so cool !!!! i'm legit honored, thank you so so much 💗💗 huge congrats on testing out of that class!!

@moonfromearth ooh this is super interesting, i'm always curious to know which posts "hooked" new readers!! it's amazing to hear that each characters' personality comes through even though you don't know who they are. and you even read the short story!! that's so cool, thank you!! 💖

awww yes selvadorada!! i need to speed things up so we can get back there faster lmao. this is so sweet, thank you 💗

@kanakomimura ohh man yeah, the labor scene made me emotional too ;-; and of course the breakup scene, i'm still pleased i was able to shock people with something we all knew was coming. thank you so much for sharing, this means a lot 💖

I MISS HIM SO MUCHHH. soon.....

@hedgehogs-and-songbirds thank you!! i ended up building a compost bin which took me all afternoon, but was pretty fun sjfksjd and i miss that era sooo much, it's why i'm always doing flashbacks and remaking their teen sims because i miss them 🥺 but it's been fun to try new things too! i'm so happy you're still around 💖💖

[buckets-and-trees]

Molly! I'm so relieved that you loved it! I know maybe it's so silly, but since I was writing it for your challenge and decided to lean into the slasher film in kind of an unconventional/meta way, I was nervous and just really wanted it to work. We know I'm not a horror/slasher girlie, but I know how you love them!

My original idea was only for it to be slasher Saturday nights at the drive in, but as I got into writing it, I knew I wanted them to get smutty, but I felt like if it's their first date, even if they have had some frequent-ish interactions from time to time as neighbors, partway into just one movie is not going to be enough familiarity for her to be that comfortable cozying up to Bucky even just for protection from the movie. BUT a lot of drive-ins that I've been to were double features, and that much cuddling into a second movie? That could be believable. And pairing with a rom-com? One, I genuinely think that would be a totally wonderful and niche kind of fun summer thing for a drive in theater to promote and get a lot of people to get excited about it. And TWO, of course as you pointed out, it just facilitates the natural flow and progression.

And the "stupid hot"? Bahahaha! BUT JUST LOOK AT HIM!

Confession: initially I just was like UGH, I NEED TO DESCRIBE HOW ATTRACTIVE HE IS, BUT I'M NOT IN THE MOOD! And then my brain was like.... if this was real, and James Bucky Barnes was L I T E R A L L Y your neighbor and had the audacity to look like that, you'd eventually fall into categorizing him as stupid hot because it's NOT FAIR and TOTALLY UNREAL and yet THERE HE IS HAVING THE AUDACITY TO LOOK LIKE THAT and it's just so stupid that he has to be your neighbor and so you will NEVER get over having a stupid and embarrassing crush on him that will certainly come nothing!

so

that pretty much settled it and became so much fun to play with. I felt like it breathed a lot more of the modern AU element into it for me, too - as did the banter in general! I think MCU canon Bucky has his sarcasm and his clever quips, and especially in fanfic we have the ability to allow him to embrace more and more of those moments of his true self as he sheds more of the burdens and trauma and acclimatizes to his new phases of life/circumstances. But a modern Bucky who never had to go to war or be Hydra's brainwashed assassin? 🥹 You know better than anyone (because you showcase him so well in so many of your works) that he can just be so fun, smooth, charming, sarcastic, corny - whatever! He lets his unburdened personality play out.

And Bucky. Just. We get to be loved by him and have him fulfill all the rom-com hopes and dreams we would ever want, so indulging in having him be so attuned to the reader? Natural. No question. (But also why he was an incredible assassin - he knew how to read and then target his marks, right? You know I love translating canon details into whatever AU they're being applied to.)

THANK YOU FOR HOSTING THE CHALLENGE! You provided such a smorgasbord of options, and it was fun to rifle through and push myself to try something a little bit outside of what I would have considered without these elements to play with. And thank you for saying all the lovely lovely lovely things you did! Writer to writer it's like... I mean, you just get writing, and so you nerding out over my stuff always feels like I won a gold medal and I want to hang it on the wall and look at it every day. 🥹

I just adore you - I hope you truly know that!

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.6k Summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Content Warnings: modern AU, smut, vaginal fingering, hand job, vaginal penetration, sex in a semi-public place

Logistical Notes: Another entry for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge (drive in setting, dialogue prompt in bold/italics), a verrrrrry late entry for @bigtreefest Essie's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration (public sex/trying not to get caught) (and shhh, Essie said I could be as late as December, but this is just/only Labor Day Weekend), and week 13 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer (free week).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You didn’t want to watch this scary movie. Scary movies were not your thing.

But you didn’t know that the local drive-in movie place was doing Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays - a double feature night with a different rom-com and slasher fic every week when you said yes to your stupid hot neighbor Bucky Barnes. He’d asked if you liked drive in movies and if you’d go with him, and you hadn’t thought even a second before accepting.

Bumping into him throughout the building since you’d moved in last spring, sure, it was problematic to have a crush on a neighbor, but he was stupid hot.

Which made you do stupid things - like accept a date with him.

You canceled plans that you’d already had in favor of this date.

Typically you weren’t a fan of movies as a first date, but since it was a drive in, not a theater, you’d have your own space and not bother anyone if you actually wanted to talk - but if for some reason stupid hot Bucky Barnes turned out to be a dud, you would also be able to tune into the movie without seeming totally rude.

Privacy? Yes. Good.

A little bit of talking? Also yes.

He’d picked you up in his big pick up truck, which meant at the drive in, he’d backed into the spot, and now you were in the bed of the truck on a camp mattress and blankets.

Things had been lovely for the first flick - which turned out to be one of your favorites. The two of you had chatted sporadically but easily throughout. There’d been a short intermission where the two of you took a walk, stretched your legs, and gotten some ice cream from the concession stand.

All of that had been lovely. Easy time with him.

It had allowed you to trick yourself into the false confidence that you could handle the other half of the double feature.

But the slasher fic had you jumpy, scooting closer and closer into Bucky’s chest, until now you had your face permanently half hidden against his chest.

Bucky chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you chirped. 

“Are you sure? We can leave, I really don’t mind, I’ve see this at least twenty times.”

“No, I’m - I’m fine,” you said quietly. 

He murmured your name against the crown of your head, planting a kiss there. “We don’t have to stay.”

But that little kiss? Being tucked cozily against him? Your whole body was humming with butterflies and warmth despite the cool evening summer breeze flitting over your skin.

“I’m safe here,” you hummed. 

Bucky ticked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up to look him in the face, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You sure about that?”

You giggled - genuinely but with a surge of nerves. “You’ll protect me.”

He smirked. “Only from everyone else.”

“Is that a threat?” You arched a brow and smirked. 

“It’s a promise,” he replied, lowering his voice, ducking closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. 

You shivered, and he chuckled and pulled you closer. You laughed into his chest, resting your hand lightly on his sternum. “Honestly, if you ever become an actor, don't ever do a slasher flick.”

He scoffed. “What? Why’s that? I’m not such a terrible actor!”

You looked back up at him and shook your head. “I’m not convinced. But also, I’d have to go see it, and clearly I wouldn’t be able to handle that experience.”

“Fine, I promise, I’ll tell the non-existent agent for the acting career I’m never pursuing that slashers are off the table.”

“Good.”

Bucky shifted to make both of you more comfortable. As he shifted, his strong arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer against his broad chest. You felt the warmth of his body enveloping you, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His fingers began to trace lazy patterns on your shoulder, sending tingles down your spine.

"You know," Bucky murmured, his lips brushing your ear, "I'm really glad you came out with me tonight."

You tilted your head to look up at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and those piercing blue eyes. "Me too," you whispered.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time - just spend time with you. But now you’re driving me crazy, and I can’t keep my hands off you."

Your breath hitched as his hand slowly slid down your arm, savoring every curve and dip. “Then don’t,” you responded. You slipped your leg up over his thigh, tangling your limbs together.

His touch was gentle yet purposeful, exploring the softness of your skin. You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers ghosted over the swell of your hip, squeezing lightly.

"I love how you feel," he whispered, his voice husky. "So soft, so perfect."

His hand continued its journey, caressing the generous curve of your waist. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, craving more. Bucky's fingers splayed across your stomach, appreciating the plush roundness there.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

Bucky's fingers danced up your arm, caressing the soft skin. He traced the curve of your shoulder, then along your collarbone. His touch was feather-light but left a trail of heat in its wake.

You tilted your head back to look at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and intense blue eyes. Bucky's gaze roamed over your face, lingering on your full lips before meeting your eyes again. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your flushed skin.

"You're so beautiful," Bucky reiterated, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. Time seemed to slow as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed yours softly at first, tentative and questioning. You responded eagerly, pressing closer and parting your lips slightly.

Bucky took that as invitation to deepen the kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you flush against him. You melted into his embrace, savoring the feel of his firm body against yours.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues exploring as passion built between you. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and muscular back, marveling at the strength you felt there. Bucky's own hands weren't idle, caressing your curves with reverence.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Bucky rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"Wow," you whispered.

He chuckled softly. "Wow is right."

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. You jumped, startled by the sound from the movie. Bucky chuckled against your lips, breaking the kiss.

"Sorry," you mumbled, feeling a heat creep up your neck.

"Don't be sorry," Bucky murmured, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I think it's cute how jumpy you are."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Glad my terror is entertaining for you."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, I do enjoy being your protector."

Another scream rang out from the movie, making you flinch. Bucky's arms tightened around you instinctively. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his warm, masculine scent. "I'm usually not this much of a scaredy-cat, I swear."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "Sure, sure. I believe you." His tone was teasing, but his arms stayed tight around you.

The score for the movie swelled and pursued a chilling tenor, making you tense. Bucky's hand came up to cup the back of your head, gently pressing your ear to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat drowned out the sounds of the film.

"Better?" he murmured.

You nodded against him, feeling safer wrapped in his strong arms. "Much better."

His fingers combed through your hair soothingly. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment if the movie's too scary."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, eyebrow raised. "Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Bucky's eyes darkened as they roamed over your face. "I can think of a few ways to distract you from the movie."

His hand slid down your back, coming to rest on your hip. He gave a gentle squeeze, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt the hard planes of his body pressed against your softer curves.

"Oh?" you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like what?"

Instead of answering, Bucky dipped his head and captured your lips in a searing kiss. This wasn't like the earlier kiss - soft and exploratory. This was heat and passion and barely restrained desire. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting and teasing. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Bucky's hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your lower back. You arched into him, craving more of his touch. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down your neck.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he murmured against your skin.

You tilted your head, giving him a quizzical look. This man you had categorized as stupid hot because he was so handsome it couldn’t be real seemed to be as gone for you as you were for him.

"I'm driving you crazy?" you asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You're the one who's been making me lose my mind for months now."

Bucky pulled back slightly, his blue eyes searching your face. "Really?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

You nodded, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Really. I've had a crush on you since the day I moved in. Why do you think I always seemed to be doing laundry at the same time as you?"

A slow grin spread across Bucky's face. "And here I thought I was the one making excuses to run into you."

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Looks like we've both been idiots."

"Well," Bucky murmured, leaning in close again, "then we should make up for lost time, don't you think?"

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, hot and demanding. You melted into the kiss, savoring the feel of his strong body against yours. His hands roamed your curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You moaned softly into the kiss, your body arching against Bucky's. His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, sending a jolt of desire through you.

"Bucky," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "We're in public."

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Don't worry. No one can see us back here."

To prove his point, he rolled you both so you were lying on your back, his body hovering over yours. The truck's high sides and the darkness of the drive-in lot provided a surprising amount of privacy.

Bucky's lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, giving him better access as your hands slid under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his abs.

"God, you feel amazing," you breathed.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped under your shirt, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You arched into his touch, craving more.

Bucky's large hand cupped your breast, kneading gently through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped at the sensation, your body heating up despite the cool night air.

Suddenly, a loud crash from the movie made you jump. Bucky chuckled softly, pulling back to look at you.

"Still scared?" he teased, his thumb brushing over your nipple through your bra.

You shivered, both from his touch and the reminder of where you were. "Maybe a little," you admitted.

Bucky's eyes softened as he gazed down at you. "We can stop if you want," he murmured, his hand stilling on your breast.

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I don't want to stop. I just... I've never done anything like this before. In public, I mean."

He smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. We can just cuddle and watch the rest of the movie if you want."

You bit your lip, considering. The fear of getting caught was thrilling, but also nerve-wracking. But the way Bucky was looking at you, his blue eyes dark with desire, made you want to throw caution to the wind.

"I want you," you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, his hand resuming its gentle kneading of your breast. You arched into his touch, your body humming with need. His other hand slid down your side, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your lips.

“Mmhmm, please touch me, Bucky,” you pleaded, craving more.

Bucky's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. His hand slipped inside, cupping you through your underwear. You gasped at the contact, hips bucking up into his touch.

"So responsive," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "I love it."

His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clothed center, building the tension coiling in your belly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed.

Bucky's lips trailed down your neck as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. You inhaled sharply as he made contact with your bare flesh, stroking through your folds.

"God, you're so wet already," he groaned against your collarbone.

You whimpered as he teased your entrance, gathering your arousal before circling your clit. Your hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was building.

"Bucky, please," you breathed, not even sure what you were begging for.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as he slid his fingers through your slick folds. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he slowly pushed one finger inside you.

"Shh," he murmured, kissing you softly. "Gotta be quiet, remember?"

You nodded, your breath coming in short pants as he began to move his finger in and out. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing small circles that had you seeing stars.

Your hands gripped Bucky's broad shoulders as he worked you closer to the edge. The pleasure was building rapidly, your hips rocking against his skilled fingers. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your whimpers and gasps against his skin.

"That's it, sweetheart," Bucky murmured encouragingly. "Let go for me. I've got you."

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. Combined with the steady pressure on your clit, it was quickly becoming too much.

"Bucky," you gasped, your body tensing. "I'm -"

"Come for me," he growled softly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

The coil of tension in your belly snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as your orgasm hit. Bucky captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as you shuddered against him.

As you came down from your high, Bucky slowly withdrew his hand. You whimpered at the loss, feeling oversensitive and boneless. He pressed soft kisses to your face as you caught your breath.

Then he licked your slickness off his fingers, and your breath hitched as he groaned at the taste of you. Your hand trailed down his chest, palming the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What about you?" you asked.

Bucky groaned softly, hips bucking into your touch. "You don't have to-"

You cut him off with a kiss, your hand continuing to rub him through his jeans. "I want to," you murmured against his lips. "Please, let me make you feel good too."

Bucky groaned, his hips rocking into your touch. "God, yes," he breathed.

Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, suddenly feeling clumsy with anticipation. Bucky chuckled softly, reaching down to help you. Together, you managed to unfasten his jeans and push them down his hips.

You slipped your hand into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. Bucky hissed in pleasure, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how hot and thick he felt in your hand.

"Fuck," Bucky groaned softly. "Your hand feels so good."

Emboldened by his reaction, you increased your pace, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Bucky's breathing grew ragged, his hips thrusting into your grip. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, growing even harder if that was possible.

"Wait," Bucky gasped, gently grasping your wrist. "Not like this. I want to be inside you."

Your breath caught at his words, desire pooling low in your belly. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, Bucky."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as his hands worked to push your jeans down your hips. You lifted your hips to help, shimmying out of the tight denim. Bucky's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs as well.

The cool night air hit your heated skin, making you shiver. Bucky's warm hands ran up your thighs, parting them gently. He settled between your legs, his hard length pressing against your core.

Bucky reached for his wallet. You raised an eyebrow as he retrieved a condom.

"Presumptuous, weren't we?" you teased.

He chuckled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he tore it open. "More like hopeful. You sure about this?" he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, reaching for the condom and wrapping your legs around his waist. "I'm sure. I want you, Bucky." You took his stiff cock in your hands and rolled the condom down slowly over his length.

Then you laid back, and he guided his tip to your entrance. He groaned softly, capturing your lips in another kiss as he slowly pushed into you. You gasped at the stretch, your body accommodating his impressive size.

Bucky stilled once he was fully seated inside you, giving you time to adjust. You both moaned softly at the sensation of being so intimately connected. He peppered kisses along your jaw and neck as you breathed through the initial stretch.

"You okay?" he murmured against your skin.

You nodded, running your hands down his muscular back. "Yeah, you can move."

Bucky started with slow, shallow thrusts, gradually building up speed and depth. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed. The movie's soundtrack provided some cover, but you still tried to keep quiet.

"God, you feel amazing," Bucky groaned softly, his hips snapping against yours.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle slightly. The new position had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure built rapidly.

"Bucky," you whined.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers tracing a path down your stomach until they settled on your sensitive clit. The gentle pressure of his thumb against you sent sparks of pleasure through your body. "Come for me," he whispered in your ear, urging you on as he continued to stroke and tease your sex. You couldn't resist the sensations, and soon you were gasping and moaning in ecstasy, and he swallowed up as much of your sounds as he could with another kiss.

Bucky's movements became more erratic as he chased his own release. You clenched around him, still riding the waves of your orgasm. The added pressure pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as you both caught your breath. The sounds of the movie filtered back into your awareness - screams and dramatic music that seemed absurdly out of place now.

Bucky lifted his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. "That was..."

"Amazing," you finished for him, grinning.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, suddenly feeling very exposed. Bucky noticed your discomfort and quickly helped you redress, then took care of himself.

Once you were both decent again, he pulled you back into his arms. You snuggled against his chest, feeling sated and content.

"So," Bucky murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, "I think it's safe to say this was a successful first date?"

You grinned and looked up at him. "I'd say so. Though I'm not sure how we're going to top this for date number two."

Bucky chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something. I've got plenty of ideas."

"Is that so?" you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. "Care to share?"

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "How about I show you instead? Say, next Saturday?"

Your heart fluttered at the promise in his eyes. “Just no more slashers, deal?”

“Deal,” he chuckled, then sealed it the best way, tipping your chin up and capturing your lips in a kiss.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

[books-and-catears]

Awww sure! I wasn't planning to but I'll make one for you guys 🥰 @lucigirl-katie @unagi-is-not-eel A little epilogue for this cause why not?!

For those without context:

<- Part 1

<- Part 2

<- Part 3

The Morning After

Lucifer wakes up as early as he can and rushes to your room immediately. He didn't even bother to change out of his night clothes - that's how desperate he is.

Of course, he facepalms as soon as he gets there. The rest of them are already up and bumbling about, outside your room.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are all of you crowding around here?"

All of them in their pajamas turn to look at him, judging silently. He was here too, just like the rest of them after all.

"You weren't the only person in MC's dream last night, Lucifer." Satan scoffed and pressed his ear to your door.

"I think I hear something. Footsteps! MC's awake!" Levi said excitedly.

"Oi MC! You awake?! Can we come in?" Mammon knocked on the door rapidly.

The door swung open and you appeared. Fresh out of bed, hair and clothes dishevelled with an expression of annoyance.

"I've been up since 6 thanks to your never ending bickering. I thought I'd sleep through it but nope." You yawned and tousled your own hair.

"Sorry MC, we just- we had to come see you!" Asmo piped in, before pulling you into a hug.

"Aww Asmo, you left your beauty sleep early just to come and see me? You guys know I literally live here with you- oof! Levi?!" You exclaimed as Levi hugged you from behind.

"Hey! Move aside, I'm MC's first, why are y'all holding them before me?!" Mammon complained.

"Again Mammon, noone else cares about that except you." Satan said, piling on the hug pile from the side. "Good morning, MC. Indulge our misbehavior just this once, okay?"

"Don't be silly, MC's always constantly indulging us." Belphie smiled holding you from the other side.

"Thank you, MC." Beel piled on right behind Belphie while Mammon growled and tried to take Asmo's place.

Lucifer just stood there, veins popping from his forehead, his arms crossed in front of him.

"I see we're doing group hugs this morning." You laughed. It was overwhelming yet it felt good to see everyone getting along even for a little while.

"Idiots. The whole lot of them." Lucifer muttered, trying to pull some of them off. "Let go of MC, all of you are suffocating them in there."

"Actually, you can join in Lucifer. It isn't so bad." You said with a cheery smile. His furrowed brows smoothened out and he quietly joined in.

It was your turn to cook breakfast today, and yet all of them were in the kitchen with you. Surprisingly they were getting along way better than usual.

"Guys, this is...isn't this too much food for breakfast? I doubt even Beel wants to eat this much just for one meal?" You noticed how much they cooked up.

"Didn't Lucifer tell ya? We're going on a picnic today." Mammon said, carrying a basket of drinks and cups. "Now grab that bag over there and let's go."

The journey was shorter than expected and the place was...wait what?!

You stared ahead at the green plains, with white flowers and wild grass scattered around in patches. A gentle river flowed by the side. Only sunshine was replaced by gleaming moonlight. The place from your dreams.

"This was Lilith's favorite place in the Celestial realm. Diavolo recreated it for Lucifer's sake." Beel said, taking the bag you were carrying. "You've been here before, right?"

You looked at him suprised. But he only gave you a knowing smile and walked ahead to where they were putting down a sheet on the grass. The exact place where you and Lilith sat.

Did he...did they all know?

"Yes. We know, MC. We were there last night." Satan appeared next to you. "And we are grateful."

You looked ahead again to see them all calling for you. You took Satan's outstretched hand and walked towards them. It was the happiest they'd ever looked.

And you just knew Lilith was there, dancing around in joy too.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

[starglitterz]

happy new year !

( this post is a little late, but it doesn't change the fact that i mean everything here HAHA <3 )

HI EVERYONE !! so, 2022 has just started, and i wanted to start off my year by thanking everyone on this account who made my 2021 amazing, and how i hope you will all stay with me throughout this year as well :>

so, 2021 was wild, to say the least. it's kinda surreal that i started this blog way back in april, and i never expected it to ever get this much attention. i'm so glad that my works make you guys happy, or that you enjoy them, or that you even feel the tiniest bit better after reading them. back when i first started, i never even dreamed that people would like my writing this much, to the point where i have over two thousand followers. i'm lucky to have so much support from all of you, and i want to say thank you for making my 2021 better :)

—

( individual letters will be on @quillwithlove ! )

to my mutuals ; i may not interact w all of you as much as i'd like to, but rest assured that i'll do my best to remedy that in 2022! all our conversations leave me smiling, and i swear all of you are so talented it's almost magic ?! i love talking to you all, you never fail to cheer me up :D let's talk more this year !

to my anons ; thank u all so much for having so much patience with me LOL! i love u guys, it makes me so !(&%(×*% /pos to think that you actually like talking to me enough to write such fun and cute asks in my inbox frequently even though i take like a million years to reply 😭 (looking at u especially 🌊 / 🍁 / meteor nonnies, ily guys MWAH) ill try to reply quicker this year too !!

to my followers ; i've said this before but i'll say it again! i am so endlessly grateful for all of you :] from when i wake up to see someone's left a message in my askbox, or spam-liked my fics, or reblogged with their thoughts on it – it makes me so, so happy. i'm so glad you guys enjoy my silly little writings that i post on the internet, and i hope you will continue to enjoy my work in 2022 :]

to everyone who read/reads cynosure ; i love this series w my whole heart, and the positive reception it receives literally makes me so glad i was brave enough to post it. thank you so much for all your adorable and hilarious comments/reblogs, they always make my day. i really hope you all continue reading it until i post the finale this year! :D

—

as for where this blog will be going in 2022, i plan to make it a lot more self-indulgent. recently i've been feeling quite pressured to post fics, and i feel quite guilty when i don't manage to write as often as other writing blogs i follow (no hate at all!! i think u guys are super cool hehe). i don't want to start associating this negative feeling w writing, especially since it's supposed to be something that i enjoy doing, and hence this year i'll be writing more of what i want, rather than what i think everyone will enjoy :) /nm

also, 2022 is going to be a big year for me; i've got my finals throughout may & june, then graduation, and another big event related to a traditional dance style i do towards the end of the year. i might not be able to post fics as often, so i'll try to focus a lot more on my series this year! i might also be publishing sugar baby a lot earlier than expected bc i have a lot of inspo for it LOL. as well as that, i'm going to try and be more active on my multifandom blog @icystqr as well :) so yeah, lots of plans for 2022 hehe >:D

it's going to be an exciting year for sure, so let's all take care and have an awesome time! ily guys so much, thank you for everything, and i hope you have a wonderful year ahead :) <3

♡, quill !

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #84

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

June Dolloway (The Back-Up Plan) 

Sometimes these dinners are such overkill, June Dolloway thinks as she settles in at the table. Too much pomp and not enough substance. June doesn’t mind a bit of pageantry and performance - keeps one on your toes, but the mindless self-congratulating nature of these things grows old. Which is why she’s glad Blaine is joining her. Someone new and fresh. Someone who is energized by the life she lives - not jaded or bored by it. It’s refreshing really.

“This is all so magical,” Blaine says. He’s got a charmed look on his face. Probably thinks this is what being in a movie is like. Movies are hollow mirrors, though. Real life is always more spectacular in June’s opinion. “I’m just in awe of it -- of you.” He’s speechless as he looks around the dining hall. Which is how she prefers her proteges.

“It’s all about hard work, Blaine - but not being a slave to it,” she says. “Self-indulgence isn't the worst thing. Especially when you can afford it.” She lets out a little laugh as she takes a sip of her wine.

“I can’t wait to bring Kurt into this world,” Blaine continues. “It doesn’t feel right without him here.”

June lets out a huff. “Why do you continue to waste so much energy on someone else, Blaine?”

Blaine’s face hardens as he tries to control his emotions as he speaks. “I love Kurt. And I’m sorry, but you can’t undo my heart.”

“Oh, god, this again,” she groans. She takes another sip of wine before she loses her temper. “Love is fleeting, love is fickle. Love will chew you up and spit you out again. You tell me you adore the way I make the world revolve around me. How do you expect to accomplish the same thing when you make the world revolve around someone else?”

His eyes grow wide with determination. “But that’s what love is. If you can’t return what people give you then that’s just selfishness.”

She holds up a warning finger. “Blaine - you are young and you are soft. People will see it as a weakness. Your Achilles Heel is your bleeding heart, which will undoubtedly get trampled on. Maybe it’ll teach you something if it does. But it’s inevitable that’ll happen. The point is that you’re nothing if you can’t manage to stand on your own two feet.”

“I can stand on my own just fine, thank you,” his voice is sharp and indignant. Good to see some fire in him. “And Kurt and I will be fine. We made a promise to each other.”

“A promise? What are you twelve-year-old girls?” June rolls her eyes at such silliness. “If you're talking about the promise of marriage, then you don’t know what you’re talking about. Marriage is nothing but a legal contract that can be voided at any time - which is better than the resentment that can grow under the weight of an unbroken promise.”

“You’re being undeniably cynical.”

She waves him off. “And you’re wrapped up in a naively idyllic sense of romanticism.” She doesn’t fully believe that. Most of her proteges are easy to mold because they don’t have many brain cells to rub together. But Blaine is different. There is a lot of untapped depth underneath his shiny veneer. She just wants something to pull it out of him, because right now, it’s remained locked deep within. “Look, I don’t mean to be so harsh. I just want you to reach your full potential. And you can’t do that when you’re always placing yourself second.”

Blaine looks as he has a retort on his tongue, but her words seem to settle in. He sits back and thinks. She grins into her glass of wine - perhaps she has finally made a breakthrough.

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[the-tiniest-one]

Late Night Office Visit: Confessions of the Copy Ninja

Kakashi X Reader

This is my first post so go easy on me. Its just a little fluffy/smut I wrote while thinking about it. Tell me what you think and thank you so much for reading!

***

Your office is tinted in soft warm light from the small lamp by your desk. A candle burning near your desk is scented for the fall season, October is here in the village and it’s starting to get chilly. You had dressed comfortably for work, an over-sized lavender hoody and long black leggings that covered your socked feet with knitted dark grey boots. Your (h/l,h/c) in a messy bun.

It’s no secret that Kakashi is a man of routine.

 His routine had recently begun to include trips to your office. Usually to tease you. You being a night owl, around 1am like clockwork when he was home from missions, he will indulge in a “random and unplanned”, unannounced visit, usually involving some kind of failed attempt at sneaking in and trying his best at scaring you. You expect his shit by now though. 

During his visit both you and he compete to best the other in a battle of “who can make the other blush” during the private office conversations.

“So why are you always working so late” kakashi asked, wandering around the office, picking up a book from the shelf and thumbing it lazily. “Dont you have a boyfriend to go home to?”

The question was bold.

“No”. A short yet devilishly innocent sounding reply from you, while looking at your mound of papers littering your desk, followed by deafening silence.

“What a shame” Kakashi says almost no variation in tone.

The tension is strangling you. 

Feeling a little bit bold as well, you decide to lay the innocent act on as thick as possible 

“I guess it is a shame. It gets so lonely in my little apartment...If only I had someone to come home to... It’s too bad. I bet you probably have lots of company waiting for you to get home and keep them warm.” you reply with a grin.  

Standing and walking over to the large window Kakashi came into the office through, leaning forward to close it, the cool October air giving you a chill.

Turning around, almost in an instant, Kakashi was behind you. Wrapping both hands in your hair with breath taking tenderness. His lips pressing against yours….expressing desperation and need. You had been dreaming of this moment for months, your tongue pushing through his lips first. Both of you searching for security in each others kiss. 

When he pulled back to look at you, you kept your eyes closed for a moment. savoring the first time. 

The first time that you knew, as silly as it sounded....As much as you hated the idea that you could be so deeply invested before his lips ever touched yours....the first time that the man you could feel in your blood was your perfect match...Your soulmate kissed your lips.

When you did finally open your eyes, the worried look carved across his perfect masked features was too clear. “Was that okay?” he asked, clearly worried to hear the answer.

Without verbally responding, you crashed into his lips again. This time wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing your hands through his unruly hair.

Within seconds your back hit the desk gently, his hands wandering under your hoody. His calloused thumbs running over your nipples, causing you to moan quietly into his open mouth.

His lips left yours quickly finding your jawline, just behind your ear, “I have wanted to kiss you from the instant that I first saw you”. he whispered.

You blushed... “six months does feel like a long time” you respond quietly.

He stops kissing for a moment to look at you inquisitively, (your tits still fully engulfed in his large hands). “6 months?” he asks confused.

“Yeah, when we first met?” You reply slightly embarrassed by his exasperated expression. 

He looks at you with even more embarrassment and his soul bared just under the surface of his clear pretty eyes,

 “Oh, well uh...you see, I was talking about the very first time that I first saw you...like ever ...back at the Academy.” Said Kakashi

“What” you said, thinking back....Kakashi, and the other mutual friends you two shared from his graduating class like Guy and Asuma.... were two years above you. You cant remember ever having seen him at the Academy or even when you and your team had grown and gone on countless missions together. You would remember him, you know it. It wasn't as though he wasn't around...He was just such a private guy (and you were a private girl), and he had spent so many years in the special ANBU division or...away from other people in general. 

Even though you’d never met in person until about 6 months ago, you’d heard of the famous copy ninja almost your whole life. His sinister reputation was known throughout the hidden nations.

“How long?” you ask breathless...nervous to hear the answer.

“Hmmm lets see...I guess it would be the day you graduated from the Academy... I was passing by, headed to turn in a mission report when they posted the list.” he replied in a more confident tone.

“I watched you never stop to check it. You already knew you made it. Everyone else clamoring for a look at the list, and I heard you tell another student...”Im going to become a chunin, then a jonin, then Hokage. To protect the person I love someday”. 

Your stomach did somersaults. You remembered the moment he was quoting..... but as hard as you tried to place him, he wasn’t there in your memory of that day.

 Head spinning... you were an early academy graduate, 8 years old when you made genin. You were 27 now….That means Kakashi Hatake has loved you almost your entire life...without you ever having met you. 

You forced him back down onto your lips while simultaneously unzipping his flack jacket. Then pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his perfect torso.

He undressed you however, much more slow and methodically, only a bra under your hoody, quickly unclasping it and throwing it to the side. Then your leggings, finally while kissing down your neck to your breasts, he pulled your panties off and put them in his pocket.

His mouth making slow circles around your nipples. You noticed how wet you were when his right hand slid from your tits to your hip, then to your slit...he giggled as he quickly fingered and teased the outside of your soaked pussy.

“Please kashi” you gasped, maybe louder than you wanted for the office building you were currently being ravaged in.

His slow kisses moved down to your panty line. Lips dancing along your skin in perfect rhythm with his hands teasing you. 

“Please what?” he asked with an almost stern inflection

At first you didnt reply, only writhing under him.

But the shock of a slap on your inner thigh made you almost scream with desire.

“Please what” he asked again while resuming the kisses to your belly.

Please let me cum you said, almost at a whisper.

Just like that his mouth was on you. Licking your clit at first, an eternity of teasing you nearly to tears. Then he started sucking you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.

You were a mess. You couldn’t even begin to form coherent thoughts when you felt his tip graze your pussy lips.

“You looked into his eyes, and he waited for confirmation.”

The second you nodded he began. Slowly dipping in and out, first the tip, then slowly incorporating more of himself. Making sure you were comfortably adjusted before adding another half inch or so. The care in which he conducted himself was nothing short of impressive...however it was driving you insane. You needed to be fucked. You wrapped your legs around him, forcing him as deep as he would go, catching him off guard...if only due to his extreme focus on your perfect pussy.

He gasped at the sudden tight warmth around his cock, looking up at you as you rocked your hips to help him along.

It didnt take more than a minute at most before you laced your hand into his…

“Im so close, kashi...can I please cum?”

Surprised and fully turned on by the request, his thumb hit your clit, fast circles helping you along.

“Cum on my cock (y/n). I want your pretty pussy to cum for me”

And like that you snapped, quivering and writhing on your desk while he followed almost immediately, soaking your insides with his hot seed.

You laid motionless, gasping for air and seeing stars….

He kissed your nipples again, still inside you,  making you jump from the overstimulation.

Finally resting on your chest while your hands wandered through his hair.

“I wanted to do that for an eternity” he said still catching his breath.

“Well I let me grant that wish” you say with a giggle. “An eternity it is”.

[authenticcadence18]

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” Ch. 11

AO3

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

…

HIIIII HELLO EVERYONE!!!!!!! It’s been. Quite some time. 😅 If you’re still here THANK YOU!!!!!! It is greatly appreciated!!! I hope this chapter was worth the wait, lol!!

I posted the first chapter of this fic one year ago yesterday! Consider this chapter a celebration of that 😊. The past year has been…wild, to say the least, but writing this fic and getting to share it with you guys has been one of the biggest highlights of it!!!😁💕

Thanks as always to my lovely beta and friend @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal, and thank YOU so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!!!

...

“Wait a minute!!!”

Phineas froze in place (which was ironic, considering his realization struck in the middle of removing the crumb cake from a very hot oven).

“You called me your little crumbcake in your letter! And we just made a crumb cake! That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

“It was 100% not a coincidence!” Isabella called over her shoulder as she rummaged through a cabinet across the kitchen. “I wanted to make a crumb cake with my little crumbcake!”

A handful of silent seconds passed. And then she shuddered, a frothing wave of decade-old secondhand embarrassment cascading violently over her shoulders.

“Okay, I’m never calling you that again,” she announced dryly (since said frothing wave of secondhand embarrassment was purely metaphorical). “It’s way too weird.”

“What?? No!!” Phineas gently set the crumb cake on the counter, taking care to make sure it wasn’t going to fall, before turning to face her. “Isabella, it’s not weird at all!! I think it’s cute.”

“You only think it’s cute because you like me so much,” Isabella replied with a grin. “Trust me, there’s PLENTY of better pet names out there. I’ll think of some new ones for you.”

She crossed to his side of the kitchen and set the plate she’d retrieved on the counter. “Alright, all we need to do now is add powdered sugar. Do you have a sifter?”

“I sure do!”

Phineas retrieved said sifter from a drawer and turned it over in his hands a few times.

“….I’m actually an expert powdered sugar sifter, you know….” he whispered conspiratorially.

“Oh, really?” Isabella replied amusedly.

“Yeah! A few years ago, my mom put me on beignet duty for the Mardi Gras block party,” he explained. “I built a machine to actually COOK the beignets but figured out pretty quickly I’d have to powder them by hand to avoid making a huge mess…it took FOREVER. Aaand I still ended up making a mess. But now I’m an expert!!”

“Those beignets DID taste really good,” Isabella mused. “I remember thinking the powdered sugar to dough ratio was perfect!”

(She wasn’t just saying that for Phineas’s benefit, though she knew he would appreciate the compliment. As a former-Fireside Girl and baked goods’ extraordinaire, identifying quality desserts was practically in her blood!)

“Thanks!!!” Phineas replied. “I’m surprised you remember that!”

“Well, YOU made them. Everything you make is extraordinary. Of course I remember,” Isabella replied with a soft grin.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d say they were EXTRAORDINARY…” Phineas chuckled sheepishly. “…but thank you.”

“They WERE extraordinary,” Isabella insisted. “And you’re welcome!”

“It actually took awhile to get the ratio right, I’m flattered you noticed!” Phineas replied. “I did a bunch of calculations to figure it out…”

Isabella just listened with a smile as Phineas rambled on about the intricacies of beignet preparation and set to sifting sugar over the crumb cake.

And if his focus faltered a little when she hugged his middle from behind and nestled her head on his shoulder to get a better view, he didn’t show it.

….perhaps getting a better view wasn’t Isabella’s primary motivator in this situation. But she’d been waiting over a decade to indulge in coupley activities with Phineas as an actual couple: she wasn’t going to let this opportunity to do so pass her by!

She was so enamored with his closeness and the gentle lull of his explanations, so caught up in the sweet domesticity of the moment, it took her a few minutes to realize…it had been a few minutes.

Was Phineas taking his time with this (relatively simple) task on purpose?

“…hey, how long does it take an expert powdered sugar sifter to sift sugar over a crumb cake?” she murmured into his ear.

“Normally? I assume it would take about half a minute,” Phineas replied matter-of-factly. “ …but . If said expert powdered sugar sifter is being hugged by the love of their life, it usually takes longer. Could take minutes. Hours, even.”

Isabella giggled (and bit her tongue to keep from squealing at being referred to as the love of Phineas’s life because aAAAAAH!!!!) and brushed a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back and standing at his side. “As much as I’d love to hug you for hours, we don’t want the crumb cake to get cold.”

“Eh, I’d take a hug from you over warm crumb cake any day. But you do make a good point.”

Phineas gave Isabella a smile before pouring the excess sugar into a bag and setting the sifter down. Then, his eyebrows shot up, seemingly in realization.

“Hey....what if I started calling you ‘my little crumbcake’?” he asked. “Or just ‘crumbcake’? I don’t mind if you don’t want to call me that, but would be a shame to let such a cute nickname go to waste.”

Isabella hit him with a playful glare. “If you do that, you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of an ominous patch-related threat. Just because you’re my boyfriend now doesn’t mean you’re exempt from them.”

“Boyfriend, huh?”  Phineas grinned, not deterred in the slightest by Isabella’s ominous patch related threat-threat. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that!”

“Well, we’ve known our feelings are mutual for...what, over half an hour now?” Isabella shrugged. “And we’ve already talked about being in a relationship, so I figured you being my boyfriend was implied.”

(She definitely hadn’t been trying to figure out how to casually call Phineas her boyfriend without outright asking him if he WAS officially her boyfriend. And she certainly wasn’t very relieved that he’d taken being referred to as such well. No way.)

“Soooo…” Phineas slid his hand across the counter until it found Isabella’s. “…if you’re officially referring to me as your boyfriend….does that mean I get to officially refer to you as my girlfriend?”

He’d WANTED to be the picture of suaveness in this moment, to state the obvious as succinctly and matter-of-factly as possible.

…..but the quiver of excitement in his voice had likely ruined any chances of that.

Isabella beamed down at their entwined fingers and then back up at him.

“…yes. Yes it does.”

For a handful of seconds, they just gazed at one another fondly, hands still together, neither trying to conceal how happy they were.

Maybe titles like “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” were arbitrary, especially for two lifelong best friends who were already well aware of how much they meant to one another (both in a platonic and romantic sense).

But….it still felt incredibly special to finally get to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Partners. Together. Officially.

Isabella eventually broke the awe of the moment with a wry smirk and a joke.

“I like ‘girlfriend’ a lot better than ‘crumbcake,’ that’s for sure!”

Phineas’s eyes lit up at the latter nickname, and Isabella groaned as she realized what she’d done.

“....why did I say that...” she grumbled. “We’d moved past the crumbcake thing, why did I say that???”

“I think it’s because you secretly like that nickname and wanted to remind me of it...crumbcake,” Phineas replied with a playful nudge to her side.

“WELL….maybe you’re not completely wrong there…” Isabella admitted, resting her head on his shoulder with an over-dramatic sigh. “I guess it’s kinda cute.”

(She had to admit it was sweet that Phineas was fond of a silly nickname she’d come up with so many years ago. Perhaps it was a little embarrassing, but in a nostalgic, sweet way. And she knew Phineas wasn’t teasing her maliciously...it was all in good fun. And he genuinely thought her childhood antics were endearing!)

“I knew it!” Phineas exclaimed. “You like when I call you ‘crumbcake’!!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” Isabella replied, leaning back and reaching up to ruffle his bright red hair with a chuckle.

“Too late, it’s already up there!” Phineas gestured to his head matter of factly.

“Well! I guess I’ll just have to stand here until your brain short circuits and it leaves your head, then! Because, in your own words, your brain short circuits if you look at me for too long because I’m just soooooo beautiful.”

“True as that may be, if you really want to short circuit my brain, I think a kiss or two from you would do the trick faster.”

Phineas said this without thinking about it.

And subsequently flushed beet red once his brain caught up to his tongue.

…perhaps his lack of a filter would be enough to short circuit his brain.

Isabella, fortunately, didn’t seem phased at all by his suggestion. “Hmmm….” she murmured, tapping her chin thoughtfully and scooting closer to him. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to kiss you. It’s the only logical conclusion.”

“Uhhh…yup! It’s only logical!” Phineas agreed, trying his best to play nonchalant as Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a knowing smile (and failing pretty miserably at nonchalance because HE STILL COULDN’T BELIEVE SHE WANTED TO KISS HIM, HOW COULD HE PRETEND TO BE PLAYFULLY NONCHALANT WHEN ALL OF THIS WAS SO MONUMENTAL???).

Isabella burst into laughter at his thinly veiled enthusiasm.

Because this moment—this entire evening—was full of moments she’d always dreamed of but that had seemed like just that: dreams!

PHINEAS FLYNN was asking her for kisses, and he was smiling at her as if sharing a brief romantic moment together in the middle of his kitchen was as exciting and enticing an idea as, say, building a super-computer in his backyard.

It was so incomprehensible, so utterly opposite from the oblivious-to-a-fault Phineas she’d grown up with, that she couldn’t HELP but laugh.

Phineas laughed with her, though he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

(Her joy and close proximity were more than enough to give him butterflies, though, so he didn’t mind.)

“Sorry, sorry!!” Isabella managed to breathe between giggles. “It’s just!!! If I could tell my younger self that you’d actually be asking me to kiss you someday, I think her head would explode.”

“I get that!!” Phineas replied. “If I could go back in time to last night and tell my slightly-younger self that I’d be asking you to kiss me this time tomorrow, I think his head would explode.”

He chuckled before getting a far off look in his eyes.

“Huh....I COULD do that…” he mused thoughtfully. “Go back in time. Talk to my past self about all this. It would certainly alleviate a lot of the anxiety I experienced before I confessed to you.”

“But you shouldn’t do that,” Isabella replied quickly. “Because it could change this timeline or zap us out of existence. I’d rather not be zapped out of existence. Especially not right now. And, besides...getting to confess to one another was worth all it took to get there, right?”

“You’re right…getting to learn about your feelings from YOU was the best!” Phineas assured her.

(This was one of the reasons he needed Isabella, to keep some of his more extreme ideas in check.)

“And I’d hate to zap out of existence. But….”

He blushed a little, suddenly feeling a bit bashful as he recalled why Isabella’d begun laughing in the first place.

“…..I’d still like a kiss from you, if that’s alright.”

“Just one?” Isabella teased.

(She hadn’t forgotten why she’d begun laughing in the first place either.)

Phineas blushed more than a little.

How could Isabella be so coy and collected about all this??

(And why was he even so flustered right now? They’d kissed a handful of times at this point, so there was no legitimate reason to get flustered….but Phineas was flustered anyway. Maybe because he’d never outright asked Isabella for a kiss before? And the mere fact that he could do that at all was a tad overwhelming?? And every few minutes he had to keep reminding himself that all this was really happening because he was still getting the hang of this whole relationship thing and despite everything it still felt too good to be true??? …who knew.)

“Well, more than one would be just fine! But—but at least one!! If that’s okay.”

VERY smooth, Romeo. Fantastic job. A+ flirting technique.

“It’s definitely okay,” Isabella whispered with a smile, tenderly cupping his face in her hands and drawing him close. “Though I appreciate you asking.”

Not much took Phineas’s breath away. He’d spent his life making the impossible possible, after all!

…but Isabella’s kisses did the trick.

And they weren’t just kisses, anyhow. They were promises, assurances, declarations of love he could feel, warm grins and soft caresses and genuine affection courtesy of his best friend (and girlfriend, now).

….frankly, he noted as said-girlfriend gingerly pulled away and coaxed his eyes open with a lilting giggle, it was a miracle he still remembered how to breathe at all.

She was smiling at him, the same smile he’d felt nestled against his and heard in her bubbles of laughter only moments ago.

He’d never realized how versatile smiles could be before today.

“Hey…guess who has hearts in their eyes now?” Isabella crooned, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Phineas blinked, taking a bit longer than normal to come up with a suitable answer.

(He wasn’t used to thinking on his feet in situations like this. He wasn’t used to situations like this at all.)

Isabella’s pupils appeared to be heart-free. So she must have been referring to….

“….me?”

“Yup!” Isabella grinned and gave his nose a playful “boop!” “It’s like they always say: couples who break the laws of physics together stick together.”

She brushed a final kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away from him entirely and turning towards the counter.

Phineas trailed behind her as she cut a slice of crumb cake (presumably for the two of them to share, as it was quite large) and slid it onto a plate, still a little dazed.

He was also interested in discovering a scientific explanation for the heart-eyes phenomenon he and Isabella had both experienced in the past half-hour…but he’d save solving that mystery for another day.

“…..how are you so good at this?” he managed to ask.

“At what? Cutting crumb cake?”

“No, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. “…the flirting, the banter, basic relationship stuff.”

(Because Isabella WAS good at basic relationship stuff. All of it was seemingly effortless for her, especially considering she’d never even been in a relationship. Phineas supposed he himself wasn’t COMPLETELY hopeless when it came to flirting—his comment about Isabella’s kisses earlier was proof of that—but he’d done that without thinking.)

“I’ve just had more practice!” Isabella replied cheerfully. “Waaaaaay more practice. I flirted with you a LOT when we were kids, you just never noticed.”

(That was probably good, all things considered. Isabella’s attempts at flirting when they were kids had left her with quite a bit of retrospective embarrassment.)

Phineas winced at the reminder of all he’d missed out on, on all the pinpricks of affection that he hadn’t caught and had instead flown far over his head.

“….sorry about that….” he mumbled.

“Hey, wait a minute. We’ve already been over this!” Isabella said sternly.

(She’d just been trying to offer him a logical answer to his question, not make him feel guilty.)

“There’s absolutely no reason to be sorry, romantic feelings are never an obligation. And besides!!”

She took a step closer to him…then another step…then another…until she was near enough to turn Phineas’s stomach to Doonkelberry jelly because was she planning on kissing him again???

But she didn’t kiss him again, instead just smirking and whispering, “…you’re very cute when you’re flustered…” before leaning back with a bright laugh.

For a few moments, Phineas was struck with the desperate need to HIDE and ESCAPE before Isabella noticed how red his face was.

…but then he remembered that she was, in fact, his girlfriend (a minute ago they’d been smooching, after all) and that his undying love for her wasn’t a secret anymore.

And, since he apparently looked cute when he was flustered, she was likely enjoying this immensely.

Whew.

“Well, I mean, you’re ALWAYS cute, don’t get me wrong,” Isabella continued. She grabbed the crumb cake-laden plate and two forks. “But when you’re flustered you’re ESPECIALLY cute.”

“Oh yeah?” Phineas countered. “Well…uh….you’re always especially cute!!! So there!!”

Isabella slowed to a halt and tilted her head at him with a chuckle. “Wait….are you trying to one-up my flirting? Or…are you trying to fluster me?”

“…..mmmaybe?” Phineas replied hesitantly. “…why, is it working???”

Isabella considered his question, taking note of the cheerful warmth spinning in her chest (and likely reddening her face a bit).

“…maybe just a little.”

Phineas didn’t attempt to hide his excitement this time, pumping his fist in the air with a whispered, “YES!!!!”

He quickly regained his composure, though.

“Well it’s GOOD that it’s working, because if it wasn’t working, I’d have to remind you that your cuteness is a scientific fact.”

“BELIEVE me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget about that,” Isabella replied with a snicker. “That was the closest you ever got to calling me cute when we were kids.”

“Hey! The mere fact that I acknowledged your cuteness at all when we were kids is a testament to just how cute you are,” Phineas stated matter-of-factly. “Because, well…you might not have noticed this, but I was just a tad oblivious to romance when we were that age.”

Isabella feigned a gasp. “WHAT???? No way, I had no idea.”

“It’s true!!!!” Phineas insisted. “….just like your cuteness being a scientific fact is true.”

The two of them burst into giggles at that.

“You know…” Isabella pointed out with a wry smile, “…for someone who claims to be bad at flirting, that was some pretty good flirting.”

(She was quite impressed, actually!)

“Well, I’ve got someone incredibly special to flirt with,” Phineas replied cheekily. “I couldn’t have done it without her.”

Isabella’s eyes widened at that, cheeks flushing bright red (because PHINEAS WAS TALKING ABOUT HER!!!!! HE THOUGHT SHE WAS INCREDIBLY SPECIAL!!!!!), and Phineas grinned eagerly before placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning in to kiss her.

That seemed like the right course of action here, to follow up a jovial round of flirting with a kiss.

(And it was the right course of action, judging from the way Isabella smiled and kissed him back.)

Perhaps he was getting the hang of this whole relationship thing after all.

…

Isabella took a moment to catch her breath as Phineas gently pulled away from her and gave her the world’s most adorable smile (and to overcome the temptation to just forget about the crumb cake and indulge in more kisses instead).

“…alright,” she exhaled. “…as lovely and sweet as all this flirting has been, are you ready to go outside?”

“Oh, definitely!!!!” Phineas replied, taking a step back. “I mean, it feels like it’s been ages since we made this crumb cake, it’s about time we actually eat it. You go on outside, I’ll clean up a bit! Just in case Ferb and my parents get back while we’re out there.”

“Sounds good!!”

Phineas made his way to the living room a few minutes later….only to find Isabella standing in front of the screen door, a blank expression on her face.

“Hey, everything okay?” he asked as he walked over to her. “I thought you were going to go outside.”

“Well…I was,” Isabella articulated slowly. “But….”

Her voice trailed off, and Phineas followed her gaze into the backyard as he finally came to a stop at her side.

“…..oh.”

The backyard was empty.

No stars.

No lanterns.

No light.

Even the picnic basket was gone.

All that remained was their blanket, still laid out beneath the tree, the only remnant of the last hour.

“Well.” Isabella cleared her throat. “I suppose we should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

Phineas didn’t respond, instead sliding the screen door open and stepping past Isabella and into the yard.

He just focused on walking, step by step by step. It was easy to keep his mind occupied with the mechanics of movement...that is, until he knelt beside the tree to collect the blanket.

Because tonight he’d had a second chance at a longer picnic with Isabella, which he’d initially chosen not to pursue when they were kids due to worries he hadn’t been able to explain back then...but the universe had taken that second chance away.

And now he had nothing tangible to express his affections to Isabella with. No inventions, no cozy sanctuaries for the two of them to snuggle up in, no physical manifestations of how much he loved her.

All he had was a blanket. Which hadn’t been enough to prolong their picnic when they were kids. And it hadn’t been enough now.

Their first moments as a couple were gone forever. He couldn’t get them back.

And this wasn’t the first time he’d built something for Isabella, only for it to disappear.

...why did it hurt even more now?

Was this going to be a normal occurrence for them? Phineas creating things, only for the world to irreverently take them away with no explanation as to why?

Because it was one thing to muse that kisses were as meaningful as big ideas while sharing a kiss with Isabella amidst one of said big ideas.

It was quite another to face Isabella without a big idea to prove the authenticity of his feelings.

And perhaps he could build something else right now, but….what would be the point?

A few tears stung at his eyes, throat burning and chest tight.

How could he build a relationship with Isabella if the world was just going to tear down his attempts to show her how much he cared?

“Gosh…it kinda feels like we’re kids again, huh?”

Phineas flinched as Isabella’s voice drew closer. He hugged the blanket to his chest as he stood, willing himself to not cry because he couldn’t cry, it would be silly to cry, all these thoughts of his were illogical. Isabella didn’t sound upset, and she hadn’t been upset when her birthday party disappeared all those years ago, she was fine, and this WAS a pretty regular occurrence for them in the grand scheme of things, so he needed to be okay. Plus, he KNEW she knew how much he loved her, he didn’t need inventions to tell her that but…..a part of him still hurt just the same.

“I mean, it genuinely takes me back! I feel like your mom’s about to offer us pie. And…..”

Isabella’s voice trailed off as she reached his side.

“Phineas?”

Phineas shut his eyes, but he could hear the rustle of grass as Isabella moved to stand in front of him.

“...Phineas, what’s wrong?”

Now her hands were on his shoulders.

He could’ve tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, to smile and laugh it off.

But...Isabella would probably see right through that.

And he was tired of keeping secrets from her, anyway.

“It’s just…..”

His lip quivered, and he sniffled before finally opening his eyes.

“....it’s gone. I planned everything and set up the picnic for you, so you’d know how much I care about you….but it’s gone…..and I wanted to keep spending time with you out here, at our picnic, because the last time we had a picnic it ended too soon and….I thought this time would be different, that we’d be able to end it on OUR terms and not because of it getting dark or anything. But it’s not. It’s like last time, and all the other times inventions disappeared before we were done with them and, I JUST!!!! I just….I’m sorry, Isabella….. I’m so sorry…..”

“Phineas Flynn. Look at me.”

Isabella took his face in her hands and gazed at him intently.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s okay! These things happen! And we still have the memory of our picnic, right? Didn’t you say that memories are your favorite things we made when we were kids?”

Phineas pondered that for a moment.

“.…yes…” he finally whispered.

“This is the same,” Isabella insisted. “We’re building memories! The inventions may come and go, but the memories will stay. And I will stay. Believe me, if disappearing inventions bothered me, I wouldn’t be your best friend.”

She smirked a bit and added, “And I wouldn’t be your girlfriend now, obviously.”

“I know, and you’re right!” Phineas replied quickly. “….but…..I just…..I wanted to show you how much I love you, Isabella. That’s what the picnic was for, really. I mean, I know I TOLD you how much I love you too, but for me, it’s always been easier to say that kind of thing when I’ve got an invention to back my words up….I guess, it’s a little scary to say those things when it’s just me. You’re braver than me in that regard.”

“You HAVE shown me how much you love me, Phineas…” Isabella whispered, caressing his cheek with a gentle grin. “You’ve been showing me since we were kids. And, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t love you because of your inventions and big ideas. I love you because you’re YOU. You’re Phineas Flynn! The kindest, most creative, most caring person I’ve ever met!! Everything that makes you you shines through in all your inventions, they’re an extension of who you are; but they aren’t you, you know? If I had to choose between spending a day using one of your most amazing inventions alone OR spending an invention-free day with you doing something super boring, say, watching paint dry, I’d choose the invention free day every time. I just love spending time with you….”

She trailed one of her hands down his arm till it found one of his, twining their fingers together with a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry our picnic disappeared, though. It was important to us, and it’s okay to be sad about it. ...do you want to set up another one? I can make paper lanterns, and I’ve got to have a picnic basket at my house. And there’s plenty of stars in the sky if you don’t have any more to spare.”

Her offer lingered in the air for a handful of seconds, and she herself seemed posed on the tips of her toes, waiting for Phineas’s answer.

“….no…” Phineas finally whispered. “….it’s okay. I know we have homework to do, building another picnic would take too much time. ….and you’re right. Spending time together….that’s what really matters. And you being willing to rebuild our picnic means a lot to me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Isabella replied with a gentle smile. “And we can just sit at the table, it’ll be like…an elevated picnic! With homework! So…an elevated study date picnic!”

She patted his cheek before withdrawing her hand from his face and turning towards the door.

But Phineas wasn’t ready to go inside just yet, wasn’t ready to put aside all the emotions tumbling around inside of him.

“Wait!”

Isabella whirled back around, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Yes, Phineas?”

Phineas took a deep breath.

How could he even express how he was feeling? How could he express his gratitude towards Isabella, express how loved and cherished she made him feel, express just how much her willingness to recreate their picnic meant to him?

“I…I just…...thank you, Isabella. So much.”

To punctuate his gratitude, he lifted the hand he held and pressed a tender kiss to Isabella’s knuckle.

“I’m really, just, so lucky. Lucky to be your friend, lucky to be your boyfriend…you know that, right?”

Butterflies whirled in Isabella’s stomach, stirred by the sincerity in Phineas’s voice and the warmth of his lips still lingering on her hand and the way he was looking at her.

She eased in closer, close enough to lay a reassuring hand on Phineas’s shoulder.

“…..we’re both lucky. Incredibly lucky.”

Phineas and Isabella weren’t sure who kissed who first. Perhaps neither of them kissed first, perhaps it was simultaneous, both of them knowing instinctively what the other wanted.

This kiss was different from their first, which had been a rush of new, giddy emotions, a celebration of their reciprocated feelings, the resolution to a lifetime (or, more specifically, nine chapters) of longing.

And it was different from the playful, giggly kisses they’d given one another inside.

It was slow, purposeful, intentional. A way to say thank you, for Phineas to convey to Isabella just how much he cherished her, and for Isabella to do the same for Phineas.

It wasn’t a happy kiss, necessarily. But it wasn’t sad either. They stood nestled within the complicated space between those emotions, mourning the loss of their picnic and summers gone by even as they celebrated them.

And though the ache in Phineas’s chest didn’t disappear completely, even after Isabella murmured a reassuring, “I love you...” against his mouth as she kissed him, it faded a little with every instant he spent close to her, memorizing the way her words felt and made him feel.

“I love you too.”

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

Ardently, incredibly, deeply so.

Perhaps someday, he’d find a way to express that love flawlessly, with an invention or words so breathtaking and perfect, he’d eliminate the ache, the feeling of misunderstanding, the disconnect between his affection and his ability to convey it, forever.

But for now. Beneath the stars…in this quiet, plain, utterly ordinary backyard…..Isabella seemed to understand well enough.

For now, just Phineas was enough for her.

And, though he hadn’t grasped it just yet (and perhaps wouldn’t fully grasp it for quite some time), just Phineas would always be enough for her.

…

Ferb spent the ride home from regionally-renowned restaurant The Boiling Pot trying not to laugh as his parents discussed how the complimentary breadsticks had tasted good but not great and how it sure was a shame that Phineas and Isabella hadn’t tagged along with them because they would’ve loved the fireworks! And where had those fireworks even come from, anyway? What did “Gitchee Gitchee Goo” mean?

Ferb, of course, knew Isabella and Phineas were likely getting along just fine on their own.

He also knew precisely where the fireworks had come from. And what they meant. (He was a founding member of Phineas and the Ferbtones, after all.)

But he wasn’t about to spill the beans to his parents: Isabella and Phineas would have that honor.

“Have you heard from Phineas at all?” Linda asked.

Ferb glanced down at his phone and cracked a smile while scrolling through the messages he’d sent to Phineas over the past hour.

Phineas hadn’t responded to any of them, which wouldn’t have been a surprise even if Ferb hadn’t known he was spending time with Isabella. His brother wasn’t the greatest at replying to messages that didn’t need replies, especially when he was attending to other matters.

“I have not. I’m sure he’s fine, though.”

Ferb had done his best to stall at the restaurant, to be quite indecisive about his order and insist on buying dessert and give Phineas and Isabella as much time alone together as possible to figure out their feelings (because it was Phineas and Isabella: they needed all the time they could get), but one could only prolong the inevitable for so long.

Thankfully, the inevitable was about to happen.

(Well. Technically the inevitable had likely already happened, considering the fireworks. But Ferb couldn’t be absolutely sure until he got home because, again: it was Phineas and Isabella.)

“I wonder what Phineas and Isabella have been up to…” Laurence mused as he pulled in the driveway.

Ferb stifled a snicker in his elbow.

“Probably smooching,” he thought. “Or having heartfelt conversations about their feelings. Or just being sappy and sweet. Actually, it’s likely a combination of the three.”

He sent a quick text reading, “We’re home!” to Phineas before climbing out the car and heading for the door.

(Just in case they were partaking in the first of his proposed activities.)

Fortunately, Phineas and Isabella were not, in fact, partaking in the first of his proposed activities.

…but Ferb was more than a little perplexed by what they were up to instead.

He found Isabella and Phineas huddled over a textbook, graph paper, and calculators at the kitchen table, with an empty plate and two forks strewn off to the side.

Ferb’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight, confusion and apprehension prickling at his gut….because all of this seemed suspiciously platonic.

Sure, his brother and neighbor were seated QUITE close to one another. And the single plate and two forks seemed to indicate they’d shared food.

Both of those activities could be interpreted as romantic.

But they could also be interpreted as totally platonic (or, well, “totally platonic” in Phineas and Isabella’s case).

And Ferb also couldn’t be sure Isabella had seen the fireworks. Maybe they’d gone off too soon. Or too late. Maybe she’d been inside while they went off. Or asleep. Anything was possible in Danville.

Thus, Ferb couldn’t be absolutely, assuredly sure Phineas and Isabella were officially together until they told him. Or he asked them.

But he knew he shouldn’t just ask them, because if they hadn’t figured things out yet, asking them would just ruin the surprise and the four years he’d spent in silence about their mutual feelings would be for naught and HE WAS INCREDIBLY TIRED OF ALL THESE SECRETS—

“Woah! Hey, Ferb!!! I didn’t even hear you walk in the door!! How was the restaurant? .…and….how long have you been standing there?”

Phineas’s words rang hollow in Ferb’s head. He only barely comprehended his brother’s final sentence.

“….long enough to wonder whether you two have finally figured things out….” he muttered.

“OH! We sure did!!!” Phineas replied eagerly.

He gestured to a particularly complex-looking equation and continued, “This problem right here stumped us for awhile, but Isabella finally figured out we have to use the general Leibniz rule to solve it!!!! Honestly I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner, though I guess my brain has been a little preoccupied tonight…”

Ferb was going to fall over. He was going to fall over and then stand back up and grab a pillow and wack Phineas over the head with it because HE’D HAD AN ENTIRE ROMANTIC PICNIC AND FIREWORKS AND CONFESSION PLAN AT HIS DISPOSAL, HOW COULD HE BE TALKING ABOUT CALCULUS RIGHT NOW???? HOW HAD HE AND ISABELLA NOT FIGURED THINGS OUT YET??????

Isabella, meanwhile, glanced between Ferb (who looked about ready to snap something in half) and Phineas (who seemed blissfully unaware of that) before giggling. She placed a hand on Phineas’s shoulder and patted it gently, prompting him to look back at her.

“Phineas, sweetheart,” she voiced matter-of-factly, “I think Ferb is trying to ask if we started dating.”

She turned to Ferb and brightly added, “We DID start dating, by the way!!!!”

“Oh!!! Right!!”

(Phineas felt a little silly for not grasping that on his own, but it was alright.)

“Yeah, we started dating!!! Surprise!!”

And just like that. Relief. A mountain’s worth of pressure, over a DECADE’S worth of pressure, lifted from Ferb’s shoulders.

He sank into a chair opposite the happy couple and exhaled.

“….oh thank the stars.”

…

At last….Ferb can rest 😌.

ALSO MASSIVE SHOUT OUT TO MY BETA FOR COMING UP WITH “THE BOILING POT”!!!! I wanted to make a pun based off “The Boiling Isles” for the restaurant name (any Owl House fans here? 👀), and she came up with that and a couple other options and I LOVE HER THANK YOU FRIEND.

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! (And I sincerely hope the next update doesn’t take so long😅. But no promises, lol!) The end of the story is in sight…might take a couple more chapters to get there, but WE WILL GET THERE👏

As always, comments/reblogs/tags/likes are very much appreciated 😊💕

EDIT: OH ALSO!!!!! I owe a massive shout-out to @palizinhas. They write FANTASTIC Phinbella fic, and their story “Another Plan” inspired me to add the hurt/comfort scene into this chapter (I’d previously written it and decided to cut it).

[neonponders]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight 

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

[bubbashawn]

Vanity Fair

author: I couldn’t help myself. If that video didn’t mess with your head, I’m not sure what will. Plus I wanted to give y’all the fluffiest fic so here’s this cutie. Hope you like it.

synopsis: Shawn meets the girl of his dreams and can’t keep his eyes off of you and the fans have it all on video

warnings: it’s just 2.6k of pure fluff. No fights and there might be one or two baby swears here and there. There’s mentions of anxiety and y/n is famous. Enjoy <3

Shawn shouldn’t be staring at you.

Andrew would be on his back later for not taking advantage of the carpet. Smile at the paps and share a laugh with a couple of interviewers. There was nothing to it. But he couldn’t stop staring.

He knew who you were, hell he had stalked your Instagram on more than one occasion. He knew you’d be here too. You’d taken Hollywood by surprise popping up out of nowhere. So, of course you were at the Vanity Fair Oscar party. Everyone was.

He wished his stylist, Tiffany, had taken a risk that evening when choosing his suit so he could walk up to your dazzling form and look good standing near you.

He stayed where he was and just glanced back at you, that was good enough.

You were a nervous wreck but you hid it well. Here you were with names you grew up with when not even 6 months ago you were at your dorm room watching them on your tv. Now a college dropout and walking on the red carpet for an Oscar party, everything felt surreal.

You looked the part in your champagne colored silk dress. Your skin was airbrushed hiding every imperfection except that aggravating mole below the arch of your right eyebrow. You looked perfect but that didn’t mean you felt it. Your nerves had been pushed to the max and you had lashed out more than you’d ever like to admit. You weren’t ready for this lifestyle, you hadn’t grown up with eyes on you, you weren’t even popular in High School.

Everything had been a blur since you stepped out of your car, the flashes and yelling made you wince already feeling a headache. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how to handle any of this.

You were paying so close attention to your heel-clad feet you didn’t notice the tall singer watching you several feet ahead. And though you didn’t, the fans did. Shawn suspected to see about 10 different videos of his head turning back to glance at your figure again and again surface by morning.

One interviewer, a woman from ENews asking about his love life, had to nudge him so he’d answer her question. He didn’t know the answer.

“So,” the interviewer interrupted his thoughts, “you’ve been spotted around Toronto recently with a girl on your arm. Want to tell us about that?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hailey Baldwin and you, any comments?”

“We’re going to attend the Met Gala together in May, so just building up our friendship.”

“And that’s all it is?” The interviewer was smiling and speaking with a coy tone, “just a friendship?”

“Yes,” he hated this topic, “thank you.”

He walked away before the lady could open her mouth. He was being rude but Shawn didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk to anyone except maybe you. That wouldn’t happen, he was sure, but that’s all he wanted.

You swore to yourself as you lightly stumbled away from your own first interview and tried to quickly yet confidently escape into the party. Barely lasting 2 minutes in the eyes of the public before your breath was trembling like your rapid heartbeat. You couldn’t handle even sending a half-ass smile to one photographer. You wanted to go home and curl into your couch with popcorn and caramel dip. You wanted to leave. You saw your manager waving you along towards a lady with a microphone and you were out of luck. You couldn’t walk away, you just had to get through this interview and then you could be done.

That’s what you told yourself.

Shawn was glad to be watching you closely in that moment. He saw the terror grace your soft features as the ENews lady beckoned her along, dying for a word in with the rising star. He knew he’d make a fool of himself but he was fine with that, as long as you were happy to escape with him.

He pushed towards you. His hand lightly brushing your wrist to pull your eyes to his for the first time that night. Shawn couldn’t help the smile that pressed into his cheeks.

“Hey,” you stood shell shocked, “I’m Shawn.”

His voice came out choked and he cursed himself. Finally having your attention and he couldn’t even speak properly.

Shawn’s voice came out like honey and you melted under his hazel eyes. He was by far the most handsome man to ever grace your life with his presence. Zooming in on your phone screen hadn’t given his dimple and cheek scar the justice it deserved. He was stunning.

“H-hi, um I’m-”

“Y/N. I know.”

Shawn cringed at the way he cut you off and basically expressed his obsession right to your face. He was so stupid for thinking he could ever carry a conversation with you.

You gasped so loud it was almost embarrassing but it didn’t matter because he knew you. Shawn Mendes knew you. You could feel your heart pound and blood pulsing through your neck straight to your burning cheeks. You were sure your cheeks were bright red and you dropped your head to hide them.

He watched the tendrils of hair cover your flushed cheeks. He had made you blush and his grin widened with pride. Maybe this wasn’t going so bad.

“I saw you being dragged towards your next interview and had to cut in.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, trust me you don’t want to go to that interview.”

“Can’t get much worse…”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, um,” you were crumbling into yourself. Of course you were silly enough to let it slip to the Shawn Mendes that you were a mess. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself, “it’s nothing.”

You were shying away from him and he wasn’t sure how to pull you back into reality with him. He didn’t know when he messed up but he wanted you to tell him everything.

“Wait,” his hand was hovering over your waist, letting you choose whether or not to indulge his impending question, “tell me what’s going on, eh?”

You cursed his Canadian ways. Shawn was so polite and wanted you to rely on him. You wanted to too, so bad especially with the way he kept his eyes on you.

“I’m not good at this, I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s all just overwhelming. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. God, sorry you have to deal with this.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiled when your hand began to fidget with the lapel of his jacket, “I’m glad I’m here. With you.”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand had finally rested on your exposed waist once your hands took purchase against his chest. You had the most genuine smile adorning your face, probably the happiest one he’d seen since you arrived minutes ago. He leaned down closer cupping your cheek in his palm keeping your eyes away from the intruding cameras.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” He smiled softly, “nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll stick by your side as long as you need me, eh?”

You wanted him by your side forever.

He wanted to be by your side for as long as you’d let him be.

“Alright Y/N, your move.”

His eyes were beckoning you into his warm embrace so you did just that. Hands curling around the small of his back. Shawn quickly latched his own around your shoulders, his bicep blocking your face from view like his hand once did.

“Please just stay with me for the rest of the night?”

You were shy in contrast to your bold move of embracing him. He didn’t seem to mind the change in your demeanor.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” he tensed regretting his pet name, he started pulling away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said th-”

You just hung to him tighter your anxiety setting in as he tried to separate his warm body from your shaking one.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Shawn was broken away from his dazed state when his manager, Andrew, tapped his shoulder.

“Hey man, let's get you two inside, yeah?”

Andrew didn’t ask questions and Shawn had never been more thankful for the older man. His head dropped from above yours so his lips could graze your cartilage piercing.

“Baby, I’m gonna bring you inside, okay?” He didn’t dare move from your grasp until your head nodded against his clavicle, “alright, honey I’m right here.”

Shawn and you stopped to pose together and ignored the shouts of rumors about your relationship with the man beside you. You continued the steady crawl along the carpet until Shawn was opening the door for you and finally getting you out of the spotlight.

He didn’t think twice before latching onto your frame.

“Honey, you did so well.”

“I could not have done that without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you either way.”

Shawn had stuck to his word not once leaving your side throughout the entire party. He took you with him to grab a drink and held your back tightly to his chest as he conversed with all the A-listers. All eyes were on the two of you and you didn’t mind for once.

“Baby, you alright?” He had leaned down and whispered at some point amidst the chatter.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay. Just a little longer, yeah?”

He was right. Not even an hour later Shawn was quickly pulling you out of the party and towards the line of cars. Paps had you surrounded but your head just stayed pressed between his shoulder blades until he was slipping into the car after you.

“Hey, you okay?” He had asked that a lot throughout the night, “honey?”

You were basically half asleep on his shoulders and it wasn’t surprising. Your anxiety had always made you sleepy and Shawn’s welcoming scent didn’t hurt. You just wanted to cuddle into his chest. His arms would wrap around you and you would feel safe just like he had made you feel on the carpet.

“Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?” He didn’t want to.

“Can I stay with you?”

His heart fucking leaped out of his chest and a bright smile bloomed on his lips. He was so happy. It wasn’t that you just needed someone. Maybe you needed him.

“Yeah,” he glanced up towards Jake, his security guard, “can you get us back to the hotel?”

“For sure and I’ll be sure to take it slow, don’t want to startle her.”

“Thanks, man.”

Jake was true to his word, not letting the car hit any bumps that might jostle your position in Shawn’s arms. The normally 3 minute drive from the Wallis Annenberg Center to the hotel took 5, but Shawn didn’t mind. Soon enough the car slowed to a stop and he had to begrudgingly move you out of his arms to stand up in the parking garage.

“Baby,” you groaned as the bright lights washed over the car, “I know, I know. C’mon you can curl up once we’re upstairs, yeah?”

Shawn guided you along and ignored the looks as he pressed the up button by the elevator. You two were a sight to see. Your formal wear sticking out like a sore thumb among the city's tourists.

He hurried you into the mirror-walled elevator and held you to his chest as the contraption travelled up all 12 stories of the Waldorf Astoria: Beverly Hills hotel. He whispered sweet nothings that left you giggling as you went to his front door. Shawn swiped his keycard before letting you into the suite.

“Y/N? Honey? Can I get you anything? Water or maybe some tea?” You just shook your head, too absorbed in the stunning view of Los Angeles.

Shawn couldn’t believe he had only met you hours earlier seeing that he was completely wrapped around your dainty finger. He just admired you from a distance. Taking in the bareback silk dress that had caught his eye the moment your heel touched the ground at that party. He pushed himself off the wall he had leaned against before shuffling his shoeless feet towards you. His hands found your waist and you were pressed to his chest again. His nose dipped into your hair and lips kissed behind your ear next to your cartilage piercing, something you figured he liked based on the attention it received throughout the evening.

“Are you still tired?” He knew you were but wanted to let you have control to ease your anxiety all the more.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then, let’s get some sleep.”

Shawn guided you down the hall and through the bedroom heading toward the ajar door to the bathroom suite. You were confused and let out a squeal as he lifted you but let him place you gently on the counter. He shuffled through his ziploc bag with toiletries until he pulled out a face wash with a proud smile. Shawn pumped the cleanser onto his hands before lightly scrubbing the products from your face. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied every piece of dirt was wiped from your face as he used a wet washcloth.

You looked so pretty like this.

He held your face in his hands and lightly kissed that stupid mole below your brow. He just held you to his lips until his hands took purchase in your hair. Shawn watched the elegant hairstyle be pulled apart as he removed each bobby-pin.

You looked gorgeous like this.

He lifted you again until your feet were on the tile between his own. He guided you to sit on the bed murmuring something about staying awake a little longer but you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were practically glazed over with happiness. The way Shawn took care of you was unlike anything else.

He quickly rifled through his suitcase cursing his messy tendencies until he came across a worn thrifted Queen shirt. He looked back to see you staring at him with a look of pure adoration and he wondered how your eyes would shift if they held love instead. Shawn broke his line of thought and placed the shirt in your hand.

“Honey, I’m going to change in the bathroom while you change here, alright?”

You nodded through your yawn.

The boy returned to the bedroom, not before knocking to check you were clothed, and stepped up to the bed. He laid out on the comforter before making grabby hands at your figure staring down at him.

“C’mere baby,” he folded you into his arms, “is this okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you, um do you need anything else?”

Your head shook against his chest and you moved closer letting your nose and lips brush his neck.

“You’ll tell me if you need something, yeah?” He barely whispered against your skin.

“Bubba, everything is perfect.”

He smiled at the pet name and squeezed your hip. Happiness was basically emitting in waves from his body.

“There is one thing…”

He almost missed the mumble against his neck.

“Baby?”

“Wake up with me?”

“Hey,” Shawn kissed your temple, “I’d love nothing more.”

Your face shifted and he nearly whimpered when your lips pulled away from his neck, missing your warmth. He watched you quietly, waiting patiently.

His lips were softer against your own than you had expected. Shawn had his lips everywhere all night but nothing prepared you for the feeling of yourself pressed to him. He was shocked and almost let you pull away before crashing his lips to yours in a blistering kiss. Your eyes locked with his until he pulled you back into his neck.

“Bubba?”

“Mmm.” He hummed with closed eyes and a bright smile.

“Your move.”

permanent tag list: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[obaby-me]

Late Night Comforts

Hugs can solve most problems. And even when they can’t, they’re always a good place to start.

Author’s Note: Raffle prize for @rikersone! Per your request, one late night comfort cuddle with Beelzebub!

It’s that time of the night. Even when he eats as hefty a meal to feed three of his brothers just before bed, he still wakes up at the sounds of his own stomach growling threateningly at him, and the pains of the unreasonable hunger. Groggy, he sits up from his bed, looking on in envy at his twin who sleeps a full night without any disturbances.

With a small sigh he begins his walk through the halls, trying to keep his steps light but quick, so as not to awaken any of his other brothers who don’t happen to sleep as deep as the Avatar of Sloth. Or worse, you. His stomach could sound quite beastly and in the large echoing halls during the dead of night, he’s sure it would startle if not downright frighten you.

The thought of you scared of him hurt his heart. He still regrets that his first impression to you was his implying that he would eat you sooner than protect you.

The light is on in the kitchen, which he finds unusual. He was the last to leave and he was sure he turned the light off. He remembers he had to wipe ketchup off the switch he accidentally left when flicking it off.

Given the time of night, if he had to take a guess, it was Mammon. He was always up at ridiculous hours of the night. Where Beel was predictable in his evening adventures, Mammon was not. The second-born could be up to any number of things—including taking Beel’s meals.

Cautiously he enters the rooms, eyes narrowed and looking for his sneaky elder brother. Instead he finds you, with snacks strewn across the counter as you nibble away at a cookie, perusing your D.D.D. You look exhausted, miserable, really. Dark circles, and thick curls every which way as if you had been rolling about in your bed tell him sleep has not been restful for you.

“You hungry too?” He asks as he enters and begins to pull out an array of his own snacks to munch on.

“Something like that,” you mutter, putting your phone down to give him a tired smile.

Looking at you curiously, he sits down across from you, a jar of cookies stuffed full now in his arms for him to eat through. “You aren’t hungry?”

“Only a little.” You tell him with an embarrassed chuckle as you try to pick up wrappers and pile them away.

“Did you wake up because you were hungry?” He asks curiously, popping two cookies into his mouth with ease. “I do that all the time.”

“Not really,” you say into a mug of what he can smell is hot chocolate. “I never fell asleep.”

“Are you cold?” He gives a nod to your choice of drink.

“Huh?”

“The hot chocolate. If you’re cold—"

“Oh, no! That’s not it,” you laugh. “It’s just my comfort food.”

“Comfort food? Is something wrong?” He asks, pausing in his devouring of the cookie jar.

“No. Not really.” You murmur. Beel can see the obvious deflection, so he waits, staring intently, and you fidget in place until you give in.

“It’s not like one thing that’s bothering me,” you admit, “it’s a lot of things. But like little things. Little things that just happened to pile up. And when I get stressed or overwhelmed, I—well, I like to, uhm, eat.”

His brows furrow with concern. “What little things?”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it,” you whisper quietly. “Not right now anyway. Actually, I want to not even think about it. I’d rather just do a little stress eating.”

The way you shuffle your arms right against your body, your hands gripping your mug tight, paints a lonely picture.

Suddenly the hunger to devour the second half of the cookie jar takes a backseat to the new urge to hold you. He stands from his seat and walks around to your side to slip his arms around your small form. He has to bend a little to do so, and so he rests his head gently on your head, your curls feeling like the loveliest pillow.

“B-Beel?” You’re flustering in his hold, and he can see the red that paints the tip of your ears. It’s cute.

“You looked alone,” is really the only way he knew how to describe it. It seems to at least have been a satisfactory answer given that you leaned back into him, and let out a content sigh.

He holds you for a while, as long as you’ll let him, until you yawn move gently against his hold. “I think I might be able to fall asleep now. Thank you, Beel.”

He doesn’t want to let go, he realizes, and unconsciously his grip tightens.

“Beel?”

Embarrassingly, he’s not sure how to explain himself. “Sorry,” is all he can mutter as he lets go of you guiltily.

“Actually, would you like to—” You swallow nervously, pausing as if debating your next words very carefully, “stay in my room?”

It’s not like the two of you haven’t shared a room before. Or even slept in the same bed before. Holding hands, no less. Yet his heart beat quickens and he feels a little light. Airy, like he’s dreaming.

You tense in his hands momentarily given his silence. “Uhm, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You attempt to backtrack.

“I want to.” Really, really want to. “I’ll go get some blankets and a pillow—” he offers, as he pulls away.

“I’d rather that you stay in the bed,” you squeak abruptly.

“It’s your room. I won’t let you take the floor,” Beel states firmly. Lucifer raises a gentleman.

“No, I mean, with me. In the bed. Together.” Your eyes can no longer meet his, a tint of red painting your cheeks.

“O-oh,” Beel breathes, catching on. “Yes, okay.” Leading you back to your room, when he feels the back of your hand tap against his and your fingers reach. Eagerly he slips his fingers in with yours and flashes you a blushing grin. Your smile in return is adorably flush as well.

As quietly as he can, he points out where to step so the floorboards don’t creak beneath your feet, as to not wake the eldest brother. The man had a sense of hearing for anything remotely inappropriate—especially when it came to you.

Your shoulders are shaking, holding in giggles as you play this game of essentially lava with him to his bed, where he crawls in slowly and lifts the covers to invite you in. You lay down beside him and much to his surprise, you cuddle right up against him, draping and arm around his waist. This is more intimate than he thought you had in mind, but he’s delighted. There was only one minor drawback.

Can you hear his heart thudding in his chest?

Gently he lays his own arm around you, and hold you to him. You fit perfectly against him, he thinks to himself. Like you were meant to be here.

He waits until you’re breathing deeply, when he decides to indulge just a little. Gently he leans down just enough to give you a small kiss just in your hair, a confession without words that you’d never hear.

Suddenly you shifted, and Beel went rigid. Were you awake? He was sure you’d been sleeping!

“Beel?”  You whisper up at him.

“Yeah?”  He’s holding his breath.

You don’t seem to have words to say as you stare up at him.  It’s dark but he can feel the heat radiating off you.  Or that could just be his own heat that’s heating you up in return.  He feels like he’s sweating bullets.  Please don’t start sweating, Beel, he begs of his body.  Don’t get wet and gross while you’re holding on to her.

But his nerves feel like fire as the silence magnifies his embarrassment.

“Sorry.”  He mutters at the same time as you do, a muffled request into his chest.

“W-what?”  He asks.

“N-nevermind then,” you say a little louder, hands gently pushing away.  You were as flustered as he was by the sound of it—that’s a good sign at least.

His arms unclasp just slightly to give you the leeway you ask for.  “I didn’t hear you.”  He admits, wanting you to repeat, a little hope that he’s not misreading your shy voice and nervous squirming.

“Will you do it again?”  You whisper, tilting your head up to him.

A smile spreads across his face—he’s more than happy to oblige.  Due to the way your head is angle, he no longer kisses the top of your head, but instead the soft skin of your forehead, where beneath his lips he feels the furrowed tension.  You’d been pouting, and he can’t help but chuckle, pleased in so many ways right now.

You lean back into his arms, and he tightens his grip just slightly to keep you against him, as he presses another kiss into your forehead, happy to find that you had relaxed.

“Thank you, Beel,” you sigh happily against him.

He hums as he gives you another kiss to the forehead.  “Any time.”  And he means it.  If you would call on him for a hug, a kiss, to hold your hand—he’d jump, sprint, fly at the opportunity to.

He feels your lips press into his shoulder, and he jolts, adjusting to peer down at you. His heart is surely leaping from his chest. You’re staring up at him, waiting for his reaction, but when he gives none, you give him another kiss, and nudge your head upwards just a little towards his chin.

“Wil you do it again?”

You want him to give you another kiss in return, he realizes.  He needs a minute to have his spirit return to his body.  You nudge him again, looking a little forlorn. You’re too cute.

Grinning, he places his lips once again on your forehead, and you kiss his shoulder once again. Just a gentle peck, sweet and sleepy as you lay against his chest. For every kiss he gives, you give a kiss back.  The placement of your kisses is just lazy placement on your part.  It’s just the closest bit of him for you to kiss without much movement as you comfortably drift to sleep, just as your forehead is for him. His heart rate comes down from orbit, the more kisses he receives, growing comfortable with the soft affection.

Between yawns and giggles in the silly rhythm of peppering each other, one after the other, like a little game.  Slowly exhaustion overtakes you and drifts you off to sea of sleep, leaving Beel with his thoughts, as he listens to you sleep.

It’s perfect here in your bed, surrounded in the scent of you, with you wrapped around him. He’s more at ease than he has been in long time.

He’s not hungry, he realizes suddenly. He ate half a jar which nowhere near enough to satisfy him generally, but his stomach hasn’t growled or aches even once since. He might just get a full night’s rest for once—instead of waking up every few hours to snack.

He hopes you’ll invite him again soon.

[soft-glitch]

Through Thick And Thin

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Type: hurt/comfort, platonic fluff

Word count: about 2700 words

Author’s notes: this year was a mess. But I’m grateful for a few things that happened to me in 2020. One of these things is getting into the Sonic fandom, which helped me find joy in being creative again. Another is a budding friendship with someone really cool, that I can only hope will last for a long time.

This fic is kind of a gift to that person for New Year’s Day. To everyone, but especially to you O, I wish a happy new year and many good things to come.

- - - - -

It was not an easy morning.

Shadow had always been an early bird. He never needed much sleep compared to other mobians, thanks to his bio-engineered origins. This was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the days.

Being able to stay up most of the night during missions proved useful more than once. On the other hand, when ugly thoughts would assail him and sleeping them away was not an option, well… It was suddenly much less interesting.

On this last day of December, the hedgehog could not shake uneasy feelings. Between Eggman’s plotting and his own personal issues Shadow always had rough times, but this year had been… a lot.

Walking silently in the empty corridor, careful not to wake up anyone in the household, the dark mobian reached the kitchen and started preparing hot chocolate. Since most of his friends knew about his sweet tooth he didn’t bother hiding it anymore, and Rouge always made sure they were stocked up on cocoa.

While waiting for the milk to warm, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The eerie calm of early hours often made Shadow slightly uncomfortable. Despite his introvert side enjoying the peaceful solitude, it was also a moment where his thoughts would simmer in his mind, either awoken by confuse dreams or simply emerging as the day started. He would often put some music or read a book to avoid thinking too hard about it.

Didn’t always work, though.

Taking a deep breath the hedgehog felt some relief at the sweet scent of chocolate. He took a small sip before moving to roll himself in blankets on the large couch. With a long and noisy yawn he reached for the remote and pointed it at the large TV screen in front of him. Maybe there was something nice to watch while waiting for his roommates to get up.

- - - - -

When Shadow opened his eyes again, sunlight was gently glowing through the translucent curtains of the living room. Which meant it was probably kind of late already. It seemed he fell back asleep at some point.

With a frown, he rubbed his dishevelled quills and took a look at his phone. Almost 11am, and no sign of Rouge or Omega... This was odd, especially since they planned on spending the New Year’s Eve together.

That’s when he noticed an envelope lying on the small coffee table, next to his now empty mug. It was plain kraft, with a small card inside that only offered an address and the words “At noon, don’t be late hun”.

Obviously from Rouge. She loved putting mystery and drama in everything she did. Shadow huffed and shook his head.

Irredeemable.

Did that mean his friends got up without waking him and prepared some kind of surprise? However silly it was, this simple envelope brought some warmth to the hedgehog’s heart. He got up to take a quick shower and prepare for the day, a small smile peeking at the corner of his lips.

- - - - -

The location was one Shadow didn’t particularly recognise, a small intersection in a popular part of the town. Since Team Dark lived in a suburban area and their job at G.U.N was usually all over the world, his knowledge of the city was lacklustre. Right as his phone displayed 12pm a text popped up on the screen.

Rouge Right behind the shoes store, a cafe.

The striped mobian rolled his eyes with a hint of amusement. Even for something as simple as a New Year between friends, the bat couldn’t help making some kind of fun game to play. Shadow would gladly proclaim it futile and childish, but he actually enjoyed these quirky adventures his best friend always peppered in his life.

What he saw next filled him with pure joy. Of course Rouge wouldn’t choose a random cafe to meet. She had to make it extra one way or another, and she just knew how to please him.

The Gentle Garden Chao Café & Flower Shop

Almost giddy at the idea of having some sweets surrounded by chao, the ultimate lifeform stepped into the small establishment. A quick glance around made him happy beyond words: soft muted lights and warm colours complemented vintage furniture, large potted plants adorned all sides of the place, and —most importantly— chao of every kind were all over the place, either walking, being cuddled by clients or sleeping on small pillows.

In the back of the room was a large counter, behind which a massive chalkboard displayed both the cafe menu and prices of various flower arrangements.

Before Shadow could go and talk to the barista, a familiar face caught his attention. Rouge was there, sitting nonchalantly and sipping some drink in the most ostentatious way possible.

The hedgehog smirked and sat in front of her.

“So...?” he started with a raised brow. “So what? Did you think I’d let you stay home for this special day?” Rouge huffed between two exaggerated sips. “It’s just New Year’s Eve, not an anniversary or something...” Shadow said, glancing at the table.

He realised an order of white chocolate cappuccino —his very favourite drink— and forêt noire —one of his favourite sweets— were set in front of him. For a second he felt something rise in his chest. A mix of gratitude and that odd yet pleasing vulnerability he could only feel with his closest friends.

“I know it’s just the new year.” the bat leaned on the table, her eyes both tender and serious. “I also know you haven’t been doing great lately. It’s been a difficult time, and of course it won’t magically be over as midnight comes, but...”

She looked in the distance, her eyes piercing through the windows and their cold winter lighting. Shadow could very clearly feel the bittersweet essence of her expression. This year had also been hard on her.

“We’re in this together, y’know.” she resumed, turning a gentle smile towards him. “And while I can’t resolve every problem we have, I can at least invite my emo bestie to enjoy some chao and indulge in sugary treats!”

The hedgehog chuckled at this, then raised his cappuccino mug. “Let’s have a good time, then. To us bitches.” he said with a knowing grin. “To us bitches!” she exclaimed happily. ”Now drink that ‘ccino, we have chao to cuddle.”

Some laughs and friendly banter later, two chao had found their way on Shadow. One was sleepily nested on his legs while the other was playing on his head, brushing his quills curiously.

“You really have your way with them, just like Omega...” Rouge remarked. She loved the little creatures very much, but she never seemed to attract them as easily as her two partners. No one really knew why and she honestly didn’t mind. It was fun enough to observe them from a distance: no risks of ruined haircut or having one mess with her wings.

“This is the best.” the hedgehog whispered, his voice full of emotion. His friend chuckled. Shadow was endearing in many ways, but his love for plants and creatures was unparalleled in an extremely wholesome way.

“Did you ever consider adopting one?” she asked before biting into her remaining pastry. Shadow’s expression became slightly somber as he looked at her. “I…” he sighed and scratched the sleeping one’s head. “I always wanted to, I guess. Even on the Ark, once we learned about them with Maria, we used to pretend having one. There was a plush, I don’t remember its name. We would play parents, bring it along for walks across the Ark, this kind of things.”

Rouge nodded sympathetically. Maria was less and less a sensitive subject as years went by, but Shadow was still defensive about these memories. Sharing them was one of the most intimate things he would do, and she felt honoured every time it happened.

“Maybe one day.” the hedgehog shrugged with a tired smile. ”Right now our lives are too dangerous. I can’t raise one properly as long as we keep fighting and going on missions Chaos knows where. – Let’s hope we get Eggman and his clique once and for all, then!” Rouge said with a grin. “Can’t wait to have you pester us with photos of your ugly little baby.”

The genuine laugh that followed made the bat beam with happiness.

- - - - -

The very specific atmosphere of New Year’s Eve was not lost to the two mobians as they strolled in the city. Streets were bustling with activity, but in a way that felt distinct from other winter holidays. The ambient anticipation was less frantic, almost… solemn. Instead of rushing for gifts and food, people seemed determined to enjoy the final hours of this year.

Shadow found it interesting, not without its charm. He was more used to strolls in mountains, lonely forests and small paths undulating through fields. The buzzing activity of the city was something else —very nice, though. Plus Rouge knew every neighbourhood surprisingly well, and offered him little fun facts and stories about all sorts of buildings and places.

“It’s a real shame we don’t get more free time between G.U.N and Eggman.” the bat lamented. “There are so many nice spots I’d love to visit with Omega and you. – We do have vacations once in a while.” Shadow replied. “Yeah, but they’re either ruined by some apocalyptic event or by an intense need for rest.” she sighed. “We can’t enjoy the Museum of Arts if we’re falling asleep every two paintings.”

The dark mobian nodded. Technically Omega and him didn’t need a lot of sleep, but being world-saving heroes brought its own kind of mental fatigue. Moments of calm and respite were too few and far between.

“Well. Next time we have some days off we’ll organise a Team Dark afternoon.” Shadow offered. “An exhibit or two, some games at the arcade. Maybe a small concert at a cafe. – Oh my. Hun, I’m impressed to see you take this kind of initiatives.” the bat replied.

The hedgehog gave her a friendly nudge. “Shut up, can’t let you make all the decisions. – I don’t see why not.” Rouge shrugged with a knowing smile.

They suddenly stopped. Without really realising it, the duo had reached the large avenue leading back to their house. As they exchanged a glance, Rouge winked. “Omega must be waiting for us. Let’s move!” she said cheerfully.

- - - - -

An immediate wave of relief filled Shadow as soon as they passed the front door. “Finally some warmth.” he sighed, removing his large coat and thick scarf. “I was expecting your lowered body temperatures.” Omega’s robotic voice answered from the kitchen. “Hot tea and biscuits are ready for immediate consumption. Made with love.”

Rouge snickered and Shadow repressed a chuckle.  Both knew Omega was absolutely unable to cook anything without setting fire to it, so the biscuits were probably store-bought. They still appreciated the gesture greatly.

Everyone gathered around the table, remembering stories about the now-ending year and its numerous developments. Adrenaline-filled fights, obscure investigations and exhausting assignments went alongside hilarious mistakes, glorious teamwork… and even celebratory moments with all the other heroes of Mobius.

“Okay, but the award for the best party of the year still goes to Knuckles’ surprise birthday.” Rouge said confidently while helping Omega put on a colourful crochet beanie. “Ughh please. Let’s not talk about it.” Shadow groaned, knowing exactly where this was going. “It was extremely fun. The fireworks accident made it over 200% better than any other celebration.” the robot insisted. “Oh right, I almost forgot about that!” the bat laughed. “Poor Knuckie, having to deal with a fire hazard on his cherished island…”

Memories of the furious echidna shouting frantically brought a grin to Shadow’s face. “But!” Rouge added, ”I mostly remember someone having a few drinks too much and— – NOPE!” the hedgehog exclaimed as he brandished his hands. “No talk of this specific event shall happen in this house. Ever.”

Omega tapped his fingers on the table as he eyed his smaller friend. “It is a shame I did not record it for ulterior viewing.” Shadow’s glare was so intense the former badnik recoiled slightly.

“Oh well, it’s all in the past now.” Rouge mused teasingly. ”Good times, good times...”

- - - - -

The closet was absurdly full of useless trinkets and Shadow was very, very close to “fix” it with a Chaos blast.

Of course he wouldn’t, knowing how preciously Rouge kept all those odd items from her past. Jewels, foreign souvenirs, postcards, old plushies, photographs… All her memorabilia was kept there, in a mismatched mess mixed up with cleaning supplies, spare beddings and various tools.

“They should be somewhere near the bottom!” the bat shouted from across the flat. The hedgehog growled, his eyes desperately scanning the clutter in front of him. Finally he found what he came for.

Fairy lights. The essential accessory to any LRCS —Living Room Camping Session.

Shadow walked back to the main room, where a drying rack and several chairs formed a structure covered by sheets and blankets. Omega was evaluating whether the improvised tent was big enough for him. “It is perfect, Rouge. We will be able to fit within the designated comfy area.” he said before crawling underneath the colourful construction.

The hedgehog carefully hung the string of lights around and inside the tent before plugging it. Rouge grabbed some snacks and scuttled against the large robot, who fiddled with the remote until a title screen showed on the TV.

“Are we really watching this?” Shadow asked hesitantly. “Shadow. We all know your inclination for romance between organic beings. Please come cuddle so we can start the movie.” Omega said. “Don’t tell me you suddenly decided to hate cheesy fiction, sweetie.” Rouge added. “I would rather perish than lose your snarky remarks and teary-eyed spee— – Alright, I get it, I’m coming.” the hedgehog replied with a frown. “This better be good, though.”

It was everything but good. Outbursts of laughter and incredulous stares followed one another as the movie —a romantic parody of the famous blockbuster Attack On Mobius— kept getting more and more absurd. Omega threatened to turn himself off as he struggled to find any reasoning behind what was happening, and Rouge almost choked on her pop-corn near the end of the second part.

When the credits started rolling, the three buddies snuggled together. The winter night cold was no match for a group hug and thick quilts. Shadow eyed his phone and hummed.

“It’s almost midnight. – Does that mean we have to prepare a wish?” Rouge asked in a sleepy voice. “We don’t have to.” the hedgehog replied, glancing at his two friends.

Has to be an odd sight, he thought. A haphazard team with so many differences, united by pure luck in a challenging world. Chilling together in a makeshift tent in the middle of a flat like nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the warm feelings. Being surrounded by such amazing souls for whom he really mattered. Knowing all the affection and dedication hidden behind that seemingly cold name, “Team Dark”.

“I wished for a pony.” Both Omega and Shadow looked at their bat friend with tilted heads. “What? They’re cute, I dunno.” she shrugged with a shit-eating grin. “What would you guys wish for? – Dual plasma swords.” the robot replied. “Maybe I should ask Miles when we cross paths again.”

Rouge rolled her eyes, then shouted curse words as she realised midnight was mere seconds away. Omega startled, making the whole tent fall on the team. The striped hedgehog quickly covered his muzzle with his hands, trying to suppress an irresistible laugh. No matter how hard life was, no matter the obstacles in his way, one thing was certain as the year came to an end.

Friendship was all he could wish for.