#beans has a circle there too

[wolfies-toys]

I've been sitting on this pattern and tutorial for a while now! so time to finally share it with you! I was lamenting that the jellycat pip and sugar mice were long retired and difficult to get your hands on unless you are willing to pay much more than they retailed for each mouse, so i decided to try and eyeball a pattern and make some myself! they're not exact as i only used constructed visual references but they're close! please note that this pattern set is intended for personal use only. Rough tutorial under the cut!

This pattern is for printing onto A4 but you can check your scale with the measurements I've provided or just play around with how big or small you want to try and make them! i didn't really get any wip photos of pip mouse but it's method is largely the same with the nose being the major change, which i will detail in text in the instructions below.

for sugar mouse i would recommend using polar fleece as it will act the right way for the ears to do their squishy marshmallow looking thing. but minky should also work or other similar fabrics! for pip mouse if you can find a similar curly looking fabric with a thin backing that'll be ideal but fleece will also work well, you just wont get the furry texture, you want a fabric with a little bit of stretch to it. i however would not recommend fabrics like felt or non stretch cotton for these guys as it's likely to not take shape the same as there's no give to the fabric.

once you have printed out the pattern and cut the pieces in your fabric, you'll want to sew the ears up and turn them inside out, then put them aside for later. just leave them as is for now but here you can see i was playing around with pinching the turned through ear into shape.

Then moving on, sew the back pieces together along the spine and front of face. you then want pull the bottom open ends apart gently and place the open sides flat up against the base piece so that they're aligned, it can be good to pin this in place so it doesn't shift.

then, get your tail rope, and tie a knot at either end, placing the base of it inbetween the seam at the butt so that it'll sit in the right place, then sew the seam up directly with the tail in place, make sure you sew through the rope to secure it and make sure it doesnt shift. Sew around the bases seam leaving a hole in one side so that you can then turn your mouse through.

once turned through you will want to stuff your mouse with polyfill quite a bit so it takes shape! i like to put weighted beans in mine for extra effect, you can use dried rice or wheat too, just sew a little circle pouch a bit smaller that the mouses base with scrap fabric and fill and seal! then insert into the turning hole while you stuff. once stuffing is done you can sew the hole up with a ladder stitch. the weight from the beads will allow your mouse to sit up quite well.

next you will want to get those ears you put aside, take each corner and bring the ends together in the middle. then sew them gently together at the ends with one or two stitches in about the same spot. you want them to look 3d so dont sew the ends to the back of the ear, just end to end so they meet in the center.

Then pin the ears in place on the head

then you need to ladder stitch the ears in place while they're pinned so they dont shift around, go all the way around the outside edge of each.

now you're almost done! next they just need a face! sugar mouse only needs embroidery by way of a french knot for both the eyes and nose (you can find good video tutorials on how to sew a french knot online), pip mouse will also need a french knot for the eyes but has a separate process for it's nose. (for the pip mouses nose you will need to leave the marked nose hole open and then stitch the nose fabric to the square nose backing in line with the dotted direction on the pattern, (it should look kind of baggy when it's unstuffed) sew it up completley with no hole, then cut a tiny slit in the backing and add polyfill there before closing with a basic stitch, then you ladder stitch the nose directly to the marked nose hole)

in order to hide the embroidery anchor knots i find the best way is to start by going down through the middle of the ears and then coming back up where you want the eye to be, and then going back down and up through the ear for the finishing knot, as it creates a very easy cover for them and looks nice and clean!

then you have yourself a little buddy!

haha they're great to squish! if you use this pattern i'd love to see your results!

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

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[luveline]

Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙

thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k

“Can you take my socks off for me?”  

Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice. 

“Not gonna last long tonight?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin. 

He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed. 

“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down. 

He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner. 

Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks. 

You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.

“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.” 

He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.” 

“No… miss you too much…” 

“I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Don’t promise if you can’t.” 

He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you more.” 

You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting. 

He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth. 

“Are you happy?” 

“Never so much in my life.” 

“You love me?” 

He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.” 

“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?” 

“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.” 

You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip. 

He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.

You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

Stirring, you mumble nothing. 

He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.” 

“Aaron?” 

You turn his name into a shapeless doting. 

“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sleeping.” 

“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”

Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…” 

He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.” 

“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...” 

He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like. 

Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.

Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow. 

“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point. 

“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.” 

—

In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.

“Aaron…?” you ask. 

“What, honey?” he asked. 

“I… did I…” 

He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again. 

He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.” 

It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?” 

“You might’ve mentioned it.” 

“And you’re… okay with it?” 

He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses. 

That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask. 

He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Im an ace simp unashamedly and i need to share this little detail of heartslabyul's birthday boy card that someone probably mentioned alr somewhere. In all the boys' groovy illustrations theres always someone else with them. Riddle has cater and trey, Trey has cater. Cater has ace and Deuce has someone in the corner (i cant tell who)

EXCEPT ACE???? BRO'S JUST STARING INTO THE CAMERA WITH THAT SILLY LITTLE BLUSH LIKE BRO YOU LOOKING AT ME???? WHAT ARE YOU TRYNNA TELL ME TWST????

cbjsvsjsjcks Where did all the Ace simps suddenly spawn from… I feel like I’ve been meeting a lot of them lately (not necessarily through this blog, but also in other discussion circles) 😂

Yes, the Birthday Boy series tends to generally showcase at least one other character in the Groovies. For Heartslabyul: Cater and Trey appear in Riddle’s, Trey appears in Cater’s, and I believe it’s Ace in Deuce’s.

That isn’t Trey because Trey wears gloves in his dorm uniform, and nor can it be Riddle because his dorm uniform looks entirely different than the standard one. That leaves us with Cater and Ace. By process of elimination and using context clues, it’s most likely Ace. Cater already appeared in two other Birthday Boy Groovies. Additionally, Deuce has a voice line where he says Ace gifted him a jack-in-the-box—and while the Groovy doesn’t depict that item, Deuce is reacting similarly shocked upon opening it. Ace has also explained (I think in a Halloween event or vignette??) that it is possible to pull off a simple trick of flashing lights and sounds using magic. He tends to use his skills for childish things like little pranks and sleights, and has the personality to be inclined towards those things too. All the circumstantial evidence points to Ace.

Anyway, I feel like Ace is one of those characters you commonly see getting shipped with Yuu because of how he is presented in official content (and especially the main story). Him and Malleus seem to be the Big Two on that regard. That’s what my observation has always been, at least.

It’s rare that TWST will put out these “looking directly at you” illustrations, and even when they do, it’s not always aimed at Yuu if you look at the context the vignettes provide. For example, the Jade Outdoor Wear Groovy has him looking back and offering a hand… but it’s not for Yuu, it’s for Cater; Floyd’s Beans Camo Groovy had him looking soft and cute… and that gaze is aimed at Epel while Floyd talks about how he wants to take on strong opponents. Ace’s Birthday Boy Groovy exists in defiance of that pattern!

I think it’s funny that his dynamic with Yuu can so easily feed into that trope of the BFF that’s crushing hard but is too afraid to fully commit, so he always frames advances/flirting/playful teasing as “just jokes” to test the waters. It almost feels like Ace was tailor-made for this 😂 It sets up a lot the potential for something as simple as a look seeming longing. I can definitely understand how someone might see that Groovy and think it’s romantic. I don’t think most people make that kind of expression while using the thumb to brush away crumbs and staring into the camera 💀 Bro would 100% catch you and then go, “I know, I know, I look so cool that you just can’t get enough of me. Well, today’s my special day so I’m feeling extra nice. Feel free to stare at me aaaaaall you like, Prefect.” And then maybe joke that you could have him all to yourself if you asked—

You Ace yumes out there must be thankful for this food www

[charliemwrites]

Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Meet the Alabama woman who is turning her farm into an indigenous food forest

Danny McArthur, Gulf States Newsroom

Angie Comeaux walks around her farm in Florala, Alabama. She calls it Hvrvnrvcukwv Ueki-honecv, or Hummingbird Springs, Farm. 

It has its own water sources – like a spring that’s not too far from her house. She and a group of volunteers planted 2,000 trees that are all native species, as well as hundreds of plant species. It’s January, so at first glance, it just looks like overgrown grass and bushes. 

“A lot of folks might come out here and they’ll look around and be like 2,000 trees where? But it’s because it’s winter time and they’re still small,” Comeaux said.

What’s actually there is the early stages of an indigenous food forest. To understand what that is, think about corn, beans, and squash. They’re known in some circles as the Three Sisters because they grow together, like family. 

“So the corn is tall, and it gives a trellis for the beans to climb up. But the beans will put nitrogen into the soil and that will help both the corn and squash grow,” Comeaux said. 

The story of the Three Sisters is a smaller version of what happens in a food forest. The plants here grow stronger, together. 

“The squash leaves are very prickly and they’re big and cover a lot of the ground, so it’s giving moisture control to the soil,” Comeaux said. “It also gives pest control because bugs don’t like to walk on prickly little leaves.” 

From extreme heat, to periods of drought, climate change is impacting farmers in the South. In response some farmers, like Comeaux, are leaning on regenerative practices. For her, that means returning to indigenous practices that focus on preserving the land for future generations – rather than depleting it now. 

Comeaux’s journey to launching Hummingbird Springs Farm started in early 2020. She was originally born in New Orleans and raised in southeast Louisiana but she always had a goal of getting land and living off it once her children were out of the house. Then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, her son had to finish school online and she saw her chance to get started. 

Comeaux, who said she’s Mvskoke, Cherokee and Chahta, came to Alabama to farm her ancestral lands. She found land from a family of multi-generational farmers looking to sell. But, when she first arrived, it was completely clear cut and hadn’t been farmed in seven years. For nearly a century before that, it had been a peanut farm. Comeaux said that kind of monoculture farming tends to leave the soil depleted. 

“We definitely saw that as an opportunity to reclaim and reestablish a healthy ecosystem,” Comeaux said. 

To do that, she’s using traditional ecological knowledge, or knowledge that has been passed down by generations of indigenous people based on their direct experience with the environment.

More at the link

[lightningstar1389]

Do you have any tip of drawing Sonic characters body?

They're very bean-shaped, so that's now I usually divide them lol

That bean shape can usually be broken down into a top and bottom half, or loose circles (torso and waist). Usually it's a sorta tear drop shape that flows into their legs, like with Sonic/Shadow/Knuckles, etc. Tails has the opposite, and has a little more weight to his body, almost like a malleable bean bag. Characters like Vector are sorta the outlier, because their spine flows straight into the back of their head. Once you get that S curve down though, he's not too difficult.

Not sure how much this helps, but just a little breakdown that I personally use

[vanteguccir]

IMAGINE CHRIS AS A DAD!!!!

He gives of the kind of dad that can’t keep his hands of his wife for 5 minutes

FUCK YES!!! but Chris would be absolutely obsessed with your pregnant figure, I just know he wouldn't be able to keep his hands away from your belly, chest, ass and everywhere else, and don't even let me get start on how he goes hard SO EASILY 😫😫

- here's a little blurb with obsessed soon to be dad!chris -

Y/N stood in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge in search of something to satisfy her late-night cravings. She was so focused on her task that she didn't hear Chris approach until his hands were on her hips, pulling her back against his chest.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He said, his voice low and husky. His hands moved to her belly, rubbing slow, sensual circles over her skin. "What are you looking for?"

"Just something to eat." She replied, leaning into his touch.

"Um, I can cook you something if you want?" Chris proposed, laying his head on Y/N's shoulder and burying his nose into her neck, breathing out the natural scent of her skin like an addicted man.

"No need, my love. I want something quick." She murmured, continuing to move the food on the cold shelves, searching for the one thing their bean wanted.

Chris hummed, his hands palming her 6-month-old belly, the fingers of his right hand roaming the covered skin while his left hand went down lightly, resting on her hip, squeezing the soft skin there.

"Need' to get you pregnant more times." The man whispered some seconds afted, roaming his touch as if he couldn't never get enough. His voice was husky against her ear. "M' obsessed with you like this, you know that?"

Y/N smiled at his comment, rolling her eyes amusedly. From the day she found out she was pregnant, Chris couldn't keep his hands off her, showing a new level of love and PDA. His brothers couldn't bear to see the youngest triplet running his hands over Y/N's body randomly throughout the days, as a mad man.

"I think this little bean has to be born first, Chrissy." Y/N murmured to her husband, giving up looking for the food her body was asking for, closing the refrigerator doors.

She moved into Chris's arms, turning around and facing him. As she adjusted herself so that her belly didn't leave them too far apart, her thigh brushed against something hard that she knew very well.

"Babe, are you hard right now?"

"Angel, you don't get it. I'm back to being a teenage boy after seeing you carrying our kid." Chris' eyes widened, emphasizing the fact that every time he even thought about his wife, his cock became hard rock within seconds.

"You are crazy." Y/N shook her head, letting out a laugh, but without disguising how the power she had over him, pregnant or not, made her just as turned on.

"For you? Always. Now, what do'y think about I satisfy that craving of yours?" He suggested, his hands roaming downwards to cup her ass. "You're so gorgeous, Y/N. I can't get enough of you."

[kcthelazyartist]

Fiddauthor may be canon, let’s discuss

At first glance this relationship appears to be completely fanon, but when you dig into it there's actually a lot more to Stanford and Fiddleford’s relationship than meets the eye.

This is a compilation of evidence [And slight analysis] so if I have missed anything or if anything is wrong, please let me know.

Warning: Long post ahead

Setting

-As @ratsbanes mentions during Stanford and Fiddleford’s college years the aids crisis was going on, during this time there was a lot of misinformation and fear mongering as it was falsely thought that only queer men could be affected. This event is very significant in queer history and needs to be considered when looking at their relationship.

-Fiddleford came from a hog farm in Tennessee, a deeply religious state, and as he is told to be superstitious, crossing himself when walking over graves, it can be assumed he too is religious

Religions in the same circle as Christianity tend to hold homophobic views as was common during this time

This creates religious guilt for queer people

-Queer politics were becoming a hot topic and most of society was homophobic during this period, there is a chance it was still illegal to be queer whilst they were in college, depending on where they were

This led to a lot of violence against queer people and a very real fear of being outed as it could have dire consequences

There was even programs in the military dedicated to having ‘gay spies’ to act queer and attract gay men in the military so they could be punished or discharged

There was also the Vietnam war going on, causing political unrest and many protests, america being very unstable during this period

-Lavender marriages [Marriages between heterosexuals and homosexuals, often to conceal the latters sexuality] were still common

-Putting this altogether into Fiddleford’s character it could create a very real feeling of religious guilt and fear of being outed that could of led to him entering a lavender marriage instead of staying with Stanford. Fiddleford would have had to worry about violence against himself and his family’s view of him, which he would likely worry about as he has shown signs of anxiety [But this may just be because of trauma]

It appears Fiddleford and his wife got married quickly when he left college which makes it all the more suspicious, whilst it could be they were high school sweethearts or an out of wedlock situation, it is more likely it's his fear of being outed that led to such a quick decision. [I will talk for about him and Emma-May later]

-Stanford was also in a position not to pursue anything as it can be assumed Filbrick was not the best father due to him throwing a 17-year old Stanley onto the street with almost nothing, leaving him to the wolves after refusing to hear his side of the story, and not coming to Stanley’s funeral. Filbrick instead views Stanford as something to make him money with his talents which is why he's so angry at Stanley for ruining their chances.

This would put stress on Stanford as to not disappoint his father and be the perfect child and it can be assumed that Flibrick was homophobic as many were back then.

Deep bond

-They are close enough Stanford has a measuring system for Fiddleford’s restless legs, knee bounce per second, AKA KBPS

-Stanford knows Fiddleford’s favourite can of beans, and stocks them in the bunker

-Stanford calls Fiddleford his ‘friend’, ‘assistant’, ‘partner’, and ‘buddy’, putting him on the same level as himself, not putting him down until Bill manipulates him.

-Fiddleford could tell that something was wrong with Stanford, even the slightest movement when meditating clued him in as shown in one of the flashbacks.

This itself is further evidence of their bond as Stanford trusts him enough to let him into the worship room and meditates around him, which leaves Ford vulnerable to attacks

Even parallel Fiddleford knows this isn't his own, though that can be explained through an age difference.

-Fiddleford loves his banjos, having multiple collections of them such as the one in the Gideon Bot blueprint, but he uses them as a weapon to protect others, willing to break his most prized possession to help others. He does this twice for Stanford, once during Weirdmageddon and another time to save him directly from Krampus.

During this Krampus attack Fidds had just gotten back when he saved Stanford who was about to basically be murdered, all whilst Bill was nowhere to be found

-Fiddleford only really violates Stanford’s boundaries and trust after the memory gun and neglect of his mental health have come into the picture, he does this when he steals the book to create a thesis to try and help Ford, and when he used the memory gun on him [More on this later]

-Alex Hirsch refers to them as the kind of friends with the same kind of interests and humour

-After 30 years away there is a thought shown on the mind reading machine that just says ‘I’m sorry Fiddleford’, completely unprompted

-The ‘Sorry’ photo in general

-When they first met Ford saved Fiddleford from dropping out due to embarrassment

He stayed up 9 hours with a stranger to help him prove a theory

-Ford takes notice of Fiddleford’s reaction to the cubics cube and takes joy in messing with him, knowing he wont get angry at him

-Both recognize each other at weirdmageddon despite how long they have spent apart [Ford may have seen him in Dipper’s part of the journal, but Fidds, with brain damage, had no reason to recognize him]

-Despite disliking Fiddleford’s tobacco chewing habit Ford allows him to continue with it

-Fiddleford can read Stanley, who has similar mannerisms to Ford, like a book

This is after he has lost his memories, such as when he calls out Stan’s suspicious laughter

-When Fiddleford first arrives at Fords house he mentions being ‘overcome with emotion’ and is overjoyed to see him, going out of his way to buy him banjo strings and microchips

Despite having Bill he is very lonely and is very happy to see Fiddleford again, saying ‘the past few days have been the most energising I’ve had since I first came to this town!’

-Ford originally doesn't tell Fiddleford of Bill because he doesn't want Fiddleford to think he's insane or badly of him, as he knows his friend is superstitious

-Ford teaches Fiddleford to meditate to help with his anxiety

-Fiddleford chastises Ford for staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, to which Stanford is comfortable enough with him to make a retort

-Ford appears to look for Fiddleford after coming to his senses and is immediately remorseful

-Ford keeps comparing parallel Fiddleford to his own, showing how much he misses him

Obsessions

-Ford has an obsession with Bill and Work, worshipping both like gods

Despite this he takes time from work or Bill to spend with Fiddleford instead;

After the gremloblin incident Ford takes Fiddleford to a fair, he throws a christmas party for Fiddleford and when the shapeshifter attacks and ties up Fiddleford he immediately shuts all work he was doing with the shapeshifter down despite his obsession of learning about creatures [This could be because he nearly got his hands on the journals but he appears to have tried to get them before and this event was the catalyst]

-Fiddleford appears to be obsessed with Stanford and later the memory gun due to it

Fiddleford leaves his family very quickly to join someone he hasn't seen in over 6 years, which is the first sign, then he stays after being traumatised and put in near death situations.

This devotion is made obvious when he stays to help with the portal even after his thesis and ideas have been blown off and his safety ignored, only leaving after seeing the horrors beyond the portal. This leads into the memory gun.

Fiddleford creates this as a way to cope and be able to stay alongside Stanford and help him, because he starts using the memory gun instead of leaving this toxic situation after seeing the gremloblin he becomes addicted

The memory gun is symbolism for addiction and self-harm when it comes to Fiddleford, he is aware it might be doing damage later on but he cant stop using it, its implied he even used it after noticing he wasn't wearing a piece of clothing right, which may have been a side effect of the memory gun.

Unlike Stanford Fiddleford does not have anyone to help him realise how obsessed he is or stop him, so he only continues to spiral, making his anxiety and self-harm worse [His hair pulling is also self-harm, though less obvious]

His obsession with Stanford is what led to this sadly.

His obsessions lead to him stealing the book to create a thesis to try and help Ford, and using the memory gun on Stanford [He uses it on him for both unknown reasons and to stop him from remembering construction workers, as well as maybe witnessing him in the red cape using the gun on himself or others. Even then you have to remember Fiddleford had been using it on himself and was not in the right state of mind due to Ford’s neglect, as Fiddleford was repeatedly shown to be kind and have a big heart but as his mental state declined so did his morals] This is sad as it shows that Fiddleford knows its bad but is already showing signs of addiction when he first makes it.

This ultimately ends up with him breaking his own mind to a point where it scares and hurts BILL CIPHER, hurts him in a way he doesnt think is hilarious

Bill Cipher

-Both Bill and Fiddleford are obsessed with Stanford, though they go about it differently

Bill’s obsession destroys Stanford, Stanford’s obsession destroys Fiddleford and Fiddleford’s obsession destroys himself

Bill manipulates and guilt trips Ford into getting what he wants, often using flattery or a twisted form of it, feeding into Fords insecurities

Meanwhile at first Fiddleford is just doing whatever he can to help Stanford, only hurting him after the gremloblin incident that destroys his psyche

-Before Bill came along Ford admired Fiddleford for his ‘brilliant mind’, heart and trustworthiness, but Bill manipulated him into thinking lesser of those qualities of his, even then during the portal incident he calls Fiddleford ‘buddy’.

-Bill repeatedly tries to get rid of anything Fiddleford gets Ford

-Bill and Fiddleford have some similarities

For Stanford’s birthday Bill possessed a bunch of rats and used them to spell out his name [This is interesting due to both Ford and Bill having a tendency to mix up both love and fear, Ford not reacting properly to monsters when he should fear them but instead being fascinated], he then insists on taking Ford out for a drink, when Ford was not the most willing to [Contrasting to him willingly and even suggesting getting drunk with Fiddleford on Christmas after he saved him, drinking eggnog, despite not celebrating Christmas]

Meanwhile Fiddleford handmakes two gifts for Christmas for Ford, despite knowing Ford doesn't celebrate, which makes Ford very happy and makes him want to spend time with Fiddleford [Did Bill have this gift giving tradition beforehand or did he see a memory or dream of Fiddleford’s gift giving tendencies and copy it like he did with Ford’s love language of experiences? Or are they just that similar?]

Both are obsessed with Stanford; Bill using manipulation, flattery and guilt tripping to get what he wants from him, feeding into Ford’s insecurities and ego. Meanwhile Fiddleford is devoted to helping Stanford achieve his goals instead of his own like Bill is. Even when he uses the memory gun it's to help Stanford so he can continue working and so the construction workers can help the portal be built quicker.

Emma-May

-Emma-May and Fiddleford’s relationship appears to already be rocky when Ford calls him

Fiddleford is seen working out of the cluttered garage, instead of a building, this might show he isn't making much money which could cause strain as she would need to work more to help provide for her son

He is isolated from her in the garage and is seen playing his banjo in the garage instead of with his family around, he also appears to have made himself at home in the garage instead of inside his house

This could be seen as a mancave, which was often used by men who didn't love their wives and ‘needed time away from them’, this could be explained through Fiddleford just being neurodivergent though as he shows signs of being on the spectrum- and not every man with a mancave dislikes their wives

She was also rather quick to get divorced for the time when her husband is away getting money for them.

-There is also signs he might not have any romantic interest in Emma-May or women in general, and if he does it is far less than the feelings he has towards Stanford

He rather quickly leaves his wife to go after Stanford

He makes Stanford TWO Christmas gifts [One of which required 5 prototypes], but forgot to even buy her one [This could be because of the memory gun but as its not mentioned that he forgot to get his son anything it can be assumed he remembered his- and we know he loves Tate]

He makes a continued effort to get his son [and somewhat Stanford] back, the gobblewonker is implied to not be the only way he has tried to get Tate back as Tate seems very done with him, and Stanford and him reconnect as he easily forgives him despite everything. Yet he only seems to have tried to get his wife back once with the pterodactyl, the same amount of effort he gave his friend when he didn't come to his retirement party. In the end he isn't even shown trying to reconnect with her even in a friend or co-parent way after he’s regained his sanity.

The robot and raccoon wife can be explained through the same reason; Heteronormativity. In this context it could be seen as Fiddleford wanting to have a nuclear family and be ‘normal’ [AKA, not queer] or feeling pressured to, which might be why he married and had a child so young, seemingly right out of college. Raccoon wife and the robot could be seen as him trying to be ‘normal’ and disliking that its been taken from him, trying to get some semblance of his old life back.

Love language

-Someone on tumblr pointed out both Ford and Fiddleford’s love languages [I cannot find their post…]

-Ford’s love language is experiences

He invited Fiddleford to help him with portal in the first place

After the gremloblin incident Ford takes Fiddleford to a fair

The duo go hiking together to the spaceship

And the biggest one is the Christmas incident, he wants to spend time with Fiddleford after he gave him gifts but is unable to at the time and Bill tries to cheer him up with another experience… Only for Ford to be attacked by Krampus and saved by Fiddleford, he then decorates the portal room for a holiday he doesn't even celebrate and builds snowmen that resemble each other with him.

-Fiddleford’s love language is gift giving

He gives him a homemade snow globe [Which Ford accidentally breaks thanks to Bill]

He handmakes six-fingered gloves that required 5 prototypes [They later give Ford comfort]

He buys him a squash that looks like a face because it reminds him of Ford [Of which Ford wrote an entire page about before throwing out]

He gifts him an axolotl because it reminded him of his sideburns [Bill later manipulates him into getting rid of it after a lot of struggle from Ford]

Downright Suspicious

-When Fiddleford is called by Stanford he very quickly leaves his wife and son behind to travel to Gravity Falls and live alone with him in the woods without anyone living nearby for miles, somewhere nobody can see them work… Or interact

-Fiddleford designed the bunker with only one bed, one small bed for him and Ford to share

Several people have mentioned that they would have to be practically on top of eachother to fit on said bed

Fiddleford would not be aware that Stanford doesn't sleep, meaning they were planning on sleeping in the same bed together. This is furthered by the supplies for years into the future and having both of their belongings littered throughout the space, such as the shmez dispenser.

Stanford in the journal mentions losing Fiddleford’s shmez dispenser, this implies either he was moving stuff around or they were sharing it. And Fiddleford does not like people messing with his stuff, as shown with the cubics cube.

-In journal 3 at the end when Ford goes to see Fiddleford they sit by a furnace and Fiddleford plays on his banjo, Ford says he can practically see ‘the age lift off his face’.

A common thing in romance stories is thinking back on when the duo was younger together, this mimics that plot device.

-Ford draws Fiddleford more than once in journal 3

He usually only draws people once in the journal, but Fiddleford and his family get drawn more than once. This may mean he considers him as close as family

He also draws him from behind, obscuring his face as if Fiddleford doesnt know he is drawing him or if he feels guilty about doing so [Another common romance plot; drawing your crush without them knowing]

-Ford says Fiddleford has one of the biggest hearts he's ever seen, and says he used to hold him so dear

-Bill hates polyamory and calls Fiddleford a ‘third wheel’

Despite the Ford’s knowing each other longer

-Ford lets Fiddleford hug him during weirdmageddon and reciprocates despite disliking touch and only really being shown giving side hugs

Whether this is because he isnt used to Fiddleford full on hugging him or wasn't expecting to be forgiven and trusted so easily is up to debate, as the position leaves the back vulnerable to attack, showing how much Fiddleford trusts him.

They also shown in the ‘sorry’ photo in a side hug, hanging onto each other

-When Fiddleford brings up marriage Ford immediately shifts to him being thankful that Fiddleford is helping him.

-They stargazed together, one again a common romantic plot point

-In journal three there is a quote from when talking about the bunker's security system, ‘Sometimes I think how fortunate I am to be friends with F… because if this room is any indication, it would be terrifying to be his enemy’. This format is suspicious as the wording can make it seem joking, or make it seem like he is making an excuse for thinking this- and why would he feel weird for thinking this if there wasn't some sort of romantic undertones between them.

-In a livestream [‘Alex & Dana Charity Draw-A-Thon’ on TheMysteryofGF on youtube, at 45:48] When asked whether McGucket loves Ford, Alex says yes before expanding on that and calling them friends

At first I thought this was a way to get around Disney’s censors but later he confirms the deputy’s relationship

Story Importance

-Fiddleford is the only reason why Bill was able to be defeated

It took Ford around 30 years to build something able to destroy Bill, and it was a parallel Fiddleford that got him the final component to finish it, just looking at the weapon and knowing what it needed. Then the weapon that actually killed him was the memory gun, something that took Fiddleford under a year to create. [Maybe even in a couple of days whilst he wasn't in his right mind due to the gremloblin]

This combined with him and Ford's bond means Fiddleford is a real threat to Bill, as he keeps Ford grounded in reality and is smart enough to know something is wrong about what they are doing with the portal before anything happens, he even warns Ford, which makes him even more of a threat.

Bill attempts to manipulate Ford into distancing himself and thinking lowly of Fiddleford, and it works, for a period of time. It really shows how strong their bond is because while he is angry at Fiddleford leaving the event planted the seeds of doubt in his brain. Instead of continuing to trust Bill when he starts hearing things after years of being manipulated [Bill would even injure him! And Ford did not react like a person not being abused typically would in that situation], he realises Fiddleford was right and confronts Bill who likely realised that he could no longer manipulate him, as if he thought he could continue he would have, it would have been easier to reach his goal that way.

Fiddleford leaving is what caused Stanford to unravel as Fiddleford was the only one grounding him.

Stanford brushing off Fiddleford’s thesis and fears was the turning point as the ring the witch gave him turned black after this altercation

-Stanford has presumably been carrying the guilt of how he treated fiddleford for 30 years, this likely contributed to Stanford pushing others away and acting how he did towards his brother and family after leaving the portal, as he didn't have that someone that helped him trust others anymore, he's been alone for 30 years.

-Fiddleford was Ford’s first ever real friend outside his family

When he met Fiddleford he helped prove his theory and they finished it together and put both their names on it, this is important to the story as the reason Ford doesn't accept his thesis is because he is paranoid of somebody else stealing his theory. [Parallel Fiddleford and Ford even share a company together]

Furthering the previous point Ford was considering telling Fiddleford of his muse before finding out Fiddleford had created a thesis for him, a thesis where Fiddleford only credited Ford and based it off his work. Ford instead of taking this as Fiddleford wanting to help instead took it the wrong way due to his paranoia

Fiddleford didn't even notice Ford’s polydactyl when they first met and seems completely unbothered by it, basically brushing over it. Bill on the other hand makes a big deal of it, basically saying its why he can become one of Bill’s ‘freaks’, something he was called as a child.

Bill acts as if he is the only one to understand Ford and as if he is Ford’s first and only friend to manipulate him, despite Fiddleford understanding him so well he can tell something is wrong from the smallest movement when Mabel couldn't tell something was wrong with Dipper. 

It takes Bill a long time to drive the duo apart and change Ford’s views of Fiddleford into ‘he wouldnt understand’ as he knows Fiddleford could ruin his plans [Bill had been with Ford since the 2nd journal and had time to manipulate him before Fiddleford arrived, even with this considered his view of his friend is still positive once he sees him again. He may say he has no choice but to ask for help before seeing Fiddleford, yet he is very very happy upon Fiddleford arriving- this hints that Bill has already started manipulating his views]

Ford wants to be famous and Bill feeds into his ego on this, knowing Ford wants to prove himself. Fiddleford can't seem to understand this as he already sees Ford as normal, but he wants him to be happy, which is why he helps because if money makes him happy so be it. Fiddleford does not question it and reserves judgement.

-Thank you to @jellied-beans in the comments for pointing out something I missed! That being without Fiddleford they would not have been able to get in and rescue Ford and all the other civilians.

Jellied-beans points out that Stan did not want to go through with the plan to rescue Ford, but it was Fiddleford who took the lead despite only recently regaining and reliving the trauma Ford had put him through, and even after he and Ford's last interaction was cruel.

Fiddleford is also the only reason the Shack-A-Tron became a thing, as it was his engineering and planning that saw it become a reality. Without him it would have taken much longer to rescue Ford and everyone else

This situation also goes to prove Fiddleford does in fact have a big heart and is empathetic as he not only rescues the man whos hurt him and easily forgives him, but Stan mentions that he led a bunch refugees to the shack with him.

End note; I attempted to keep in any points I have found and tried not to leave any information out, as well as leaving in anything nuanced [Such as the Christmas gift situation maybe being caused by the memory gun]. I find this important as I’ve seen people arguing against the ship and calling it generally toxic, whilst leaving out crucial details such as Bill's manipulation, as well as people calling Fiddleford a bad person due to the whole memory gun thing and completely ignoring why he did it.

[As a side note Fiddauthor definitely toxic during the Bill era, but overall it's not, and unlike Billford they are able to mend their relationship as its built on understanding and genuine feelings, as shown by the parallel world where they were able to trust each other and repair their relationship]

I have not read the Book of Bill yet so this might be updated later, any BoB content on this is just what I have seen circulating around.

[revelboo]

I smile like a madman everytime I see you post. Your writing is phenomenal and tysm for feeding starscream enthusiasts with a full course meal

Thank you for the kind words!

Everything is Alright Pt 29

Starscream x Reader-weird human things

• Throughout the day, he replays that sleepy little mumble over and over, obsessing over that tired whine of protest at being separated from him. That unsettled feeling in his spark is growing, that consuming need to have you with him. To be able to touch you and reassure himself you’re there. And maybe you feel that way, too. Why else had you sounded like that? It’s not only your voice that lingers, he keeps thinking of how soft you’d been against him when he’d been mass displaced. How you’d fit against him, that rogue thought circling again and again. Taboo and dangerous.

• Your excitement somewhat falters as you finally look up from your treasure. “You guys destroyed a Bath and Body Works, didn’t you?” You ask, popping the top on one to smell it and wondering if you should at least feel guilty about being so happy for the soap if there’s a building on fire in town. Possibly mass casualties.

• “We destroyed a truck delivering Bath and Body Works,” Rumble says with a shrug. “Those trucks burn really good,” Frenzy pipes up, grinning like a little psycho as your face pales and you make a mental note to keep anything flammable away from him. “The driver escaped into the woods after soiling himself,” Ravage adds, rolling onto his back to stretch his paws over his head and you inhale. Because the Cybertronian, death cat has little toe beans on the pads of his metal paws. You have to bite into the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something, because it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. And you’re sure it’d just make Ravage furious if you start baby talking him like you would a kitten, but toe beans.

• It doesn’t take much to convince them to escort you to the wash racks or for them to agree to stand guard at the door so you’re not discovered. Frenzy all too happily pointing out just how bad you stink as if you’re not very aware of it. Your annoyance falls away when you realize that tucked in a corner is a cassette sized space that you can reach the controls for by standing up on tiptoe. You use almost an entire bottle of soap scrubbing your skin and hair clean and just enjoying the heat of the water. It’s only the sound of Rumble banging a fist on the door that makes you reluctantly leave that warmth. Only to realize you didn’t think about a way to dry off after, you’d been too excited to be clean. Groaning, you pull on your ugly, floral dress, hating the way it clings to your wet skin.

• Rumble makes a sound remarkably like a snort when he sees you. Muttering to Frenzy that wet humans just look sad. And you probably do look like a drowned rat, so you can’t even muster the energy to be offended. Exhaling, you wrap your arms around yourself and follow them back to Starscream’s quarters. Freezing and dripping the whole way. The cassettes don’t linger, as soon as you’re back inside, they’re gone and you’re oddly disappointed at being left alone on the floor.

• Wings sagging tiredly, Starscream lets himself into his quarters and his optics slide to where the human should be. And isn’t. Soundwave again? Anger and fear beginning to thrum through him, the sound of your voice calling out to him gives him pause. There you are. “Why are you down there?” He growls, bending to curl his servos around you and shifting you to cradle in his palm. “You’re wet.” He touches a servo to your damp hair, venting as you shiver. Wet and cold, and annoyance lifts his wings. “For Primus’s sake.”

• Swallowing, you stare at your hands in your lap as you sit in his hand, because you can’t look at him. Your mind keeps circling back to that dream and wondering about alien anatomy. Surely he doesn’t have those parts. Why would he? But then why does he have what he calls a glossa, a tongue, that’s currently sliding over his denta to linger on the sharp points where his canines would be if he’d been human as he frowns down at you? And that too human face of his is all sharp, strong lines. Your own face heats as you drop your stare to his canopy since that’s safer than gawking at him. Rumbling softly, he uses the tip of a servo to force your chin up to meet his optics. Oh, you’re definitely in trouble. Your stupid, treacherous brain pointing out that, alien or not, he’s handsome. “I got soap,” you manage weakly, because you have to say something.

• “I see that,” he grumbles, keeping your chin up with that servo. Why won’t you look him in the optics? He runs a second servo over your cheek, watching you become even more flustered at the touch. Another weird human thing? Giving up for the time being, he carries you to the berth and reclines, gently depositing you on his chassis since he knows you like to soak in his heat. When he slides a servo down your spine, you just press your face against him with a frustrated noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan. Definitely a weird human thing, he vents softly.

Previous Next

[luveline]

hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask. 

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.” 

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.  

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.” 

“Really?” 

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops. 

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.” 

“Can I speak to her?” 

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Lay back,” he says. 

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?” 

You laugh. He peeks up at you. 

“Sorry, it’s just funny.” 

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.” 

“I won’t laugh again, promise.” 

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.” 

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again. 

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says. 

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?” 

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to your sister.” 

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?” 

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?” 

“Can I?” 

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.” 

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle. 

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump. 

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.” 

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.” 

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks. 

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.” 

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?” 

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says. 

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side. 

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says. 

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?” 

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh. 

[sorcerous-caress]

Taking you as their fake date to an event

[Fluff, suggustive, romance, humour, fake dating, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, Rolan]

Wyll

In the aftermath of clearing the misunderstanding with his father, Wyll found himself back at the centre of attention in Baldur's Gate's circle of nobles. Everyone wanted to meet the famed blade of frontiers, for the last time they saw him was years ago before he fully matured into the man he is today.

Letter after letter were delivered to your camp. Carrier pigeons barely escaped Tara's claws as they dropped the mail on Wyll's tent and left with most of their feathers intact.

Being the son of the grand duke of Baldur's Gate turned all the heads of any sane noble with a marriage allegeable offspring. Invitation for tea parties, hunting competitions, and even balls for the sole purpose of meeting other people. Wyll's hand was slowly going numb from having to write back formal polite declining letters.

If only there was a way to stop them from the source. He'd sigh and vent to his closest of companions. But Karlach wasn't available at the moment, so he had to make do with the vampire.

"Why not just tell them you've already tied the knot with someone or whatever you humans call it?"

For once, Wyll actually considered listening to the fanged devil on his shoulder.

He approached that topic as delicately as he could when it came to convincing you, inviting you to dinner at a restaurant, waiting until after you're both filled and the lighthearted conversation slowed to bring it up.

"My friend, if I may, there is something I could use a helping hand with."

To his relief, you don't seem uncomfortable to his proposal. If anything, you nonchalantly agreed to be his fake date to the upcoming celebration.

He thanks you with a polite smile, yet for some, his heart beat faster when he pictures you holding onto his arm amongst the crowd. Your formal attire matching his suit. The fact he'd get to call you his fiancé for an evening sends an unexpected heat up to his face.

.

Gale

Tara wakes him up with delight in her eyes one morning, her sing song tone of his last name is more chipper than usual.

"Mr.Dekarios, yoohoo~" she licks his face to get his sleepy eyes to focus on her, "Ms.Dekarios sends her regards, along with a mandatory summon invitation for you this weekend." Tara brings her paw up to her face, cleaning the fur and making herself even more presentable.

Before Gale gets a word in, he is interrupted by a paw smacking against his lips.

"Now now, you wouldn't break the heart of your poor old mother by rejecting her invitation when you haven't seen her in years, would you?" The soft beans against Gale's mouth hold the threat of sharp claws underneath.

Defeated and outsmarted first thing in the morning, the wizard reluctantly nods with a sight.

Deep down, he know this day would eventually come. He couldn't hide the orb and the looming threat over his life from his own mother forever, no matter how he naively hoped to find a cure before having to face her. Coming back to announce you've foolishly consumed untamed magic of chaos isn't the most popular mother's day gift.

But maybe, just maybe he doesn't have to let her know yet. If he could find a distraction.

And lucky for him, the perfect distraction was currently standing outside his open tent, rubbing Tara's belly as she purrs and leans into their arms more.

He devised a plan, a great list of excuses and reasons to sell you the idea of why you should go along with his plan of deception, even prepared a bribe if push came to shove.

Well, two bribes, actually. The first one was the massive breakfast prepared and catered specifically for your taste.

Scurrying to sit in the chair next to you before Halsin could, Gale ignored the cofused look the druid gave him before sitting down at another chair.

Either he was too easy to read, or you've picked up on his pattern of gifts and act of service whenever he has a request. Because he only had to hint at the upcoming home visit before you Blatantly stated that you're willing to go as his date.

"Well...this was certainly much easier than I expected. In fact I've deviced a much more elaborate argument and explanation for when you'd initially refuse."

"Why would I ever refuse Gale?"

You gently caressed the side of his face, wiping a small crumb of bread away from his lips before taking your hand back.

"I...well, uhm. You." With a flustered look, Gale wasn't sure how to respond. Did he remember to comb his morning hair? Oh god, wait, is he still in his pyjamas? Does he even look half presentable right now?

.

Shadowheart

A Selunite introduction party, as her parents explained. She never had the afterparty of her ceremony after the woods passage trial, and her mother really wanted her to see her adorned in the moon maiden silvery dress and white flowers.

How could she say no? Shadowheart only wished for both of their happiness, to make up for lost time as much as she could.

While her father never pressured her, knowing he still has plenty of time with her, her mother wasn't offered the same courtsy by life. So he encouraged Shadowheart to bring someone dear to her maybe, just to reassure her mother that she has a loved one, you know how humans tend to get about finding your soulmate and all of that.

But she felt lost. Was there really someone she could call a soulmate?

Your words echo in her mind, how you gently persuaded her into lowering her weapon. The night orchid you've given her is still kept safely in her journal, tucked away between the soft pages to preserve the petals forever.

What if you don't share her feelings? What if she is just another lost soul that has grown attached to you after you saved them. Afterall, you did end up risking blowing your cover when saving that drow women at moonrise tower.

Minthara's respect for you was nothing to scoff at. What's a cleric's faith when compared to a paladin's devotion?

Yet she still took a chance, a leap of faith for you.

One night before the two of you retreated to your own beds, she stopped you for a short conversation. Reluctance in her voice as she lowered her face and looked up at you, eyes glistening under the moonlight.

She explained her situation, her party for her coming of age ceremony that was long postponed, how she wished for you to accompany her as her date.

"Please, indulge me this once. And we can pretend it never happened afterwards...if that's what you wish." The words pained her to say, but the relief that followed at your acceptance made all the pain worth it.

She isn't sure where your heart lays, but for a day, it will be hers. Her faith will guide her, the faith that maybe one day, you too will return her feelings.

.

Karlach

She was nervously walking back and forth outside your tent just after dinner, unsure of how to approach you or even mention the topic.

Her tail aggiated and is switching between curling around her leg and lashing at the ground below. Karlach didn't bury her emotions as the engine in her chest glowed more and more, matching the redness of the sunset in the horizon.

Really, what was she thinking? Agreeing to the double date her friends offered her. She was too excited at having finally met more people from her past, ones that didn't stab her in the back, and one thing led to another.

It's not that she ment to lie to her friends...it was just hard to tell them that even after all these years, she still doesn't have someone to call her own. It felt embarrassing to admit how alone she was, how touch starved and repressed she felt.

Not to mention how every single one of her friends had already found someone. Most of them were married and the other half on their way to get married.

She didn't think they'd make a big deal out of it when she off-handedly mentioned that she was seeing someone, a simple white lie with no harm done. She thought they'd just be happy for her and move on.

But no, instead, it was as if she grew a second head right then and there. Everyone was so excited to meet her so-called partner.

And so she found herself like this, strolling around your tent like a loser, attempting to muster up the dignity to ask you to pretend to be her partner for tomorrow.

Only when bumped into something and lost her balance did she realise who stood in front of her.

Karlach's body pinned you to the ground with ease, even unintentionally her muscles could easily cage you on. Her skin hot against yours, she lifted her head and your faces were mere inches apart.

You didn't miss the way her eyes glances at your lips, the way her cheeks darkned when you licked them. The heacy of swallow afterwards before her lips twitched into a polite smile.

With a quick apology, she helped you up.

"Say soldier, have you ever played pretend before? You know that game that kids play." Very smooth Karlach, she thought to herself. "Uh...do you think the two of us can maybe play it tomorrow? Haha...ha."

You asked what she meant.

"I kinda of...well, I told my friends that I was already seeing someone so. Could you be that person? I'll pay you back tenfolds, I promise."

"Of course Karlach, anything you want." Accepting the awkward fistbump she offered you, in return you gave her a hug that lingered for more time than it should.

"Cool cool, great. I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Her tail was swishing excitedly behind her, a confident smile on her face as bright as the sun.

.

Rolan

He will show them, he thought, he will show his spoiled bratty siblings that he isn't as uptight and "scares away all suitors" as they claimed!

I mean, have you seen him? He is a very talented and capable wizard, how is it his fault that other people are far too dim and slow to realise how much of a catch he is, how his talent more than makes up for his sometimes bitter personality.

Lia was bragging again about the cute bard she managed to ask out, her third date this week. Rolan swears she is mentioning within earshot if him intentionally, hell even Cal gets the occasional longing stares at any tavren they go to.

Rolan isn't less than them and he will prove it. He just well...hasn't put himself out there yet, so what if he has zero experience with dating and romance? He is a fast learner, he is very confident in his ability to become an excellent lover in to time.

A day goes by, then two and three. Suddenly it's been a full week and he haven't had a speck of luck when it came to romancing someone. It's almost as if any person he approaches immediately loses interest the second he opens his mouth.

He is getting desperate, he can't let Lia know about this. She will never ever let him live it down.

So when you find him in the elfsong tavren, sitting alone on a table nursing on his drink with his tail curled around his leg. You stare at him long enough to catch his interest.

He recognises you immediately, you could see the cogs turning in his alcohol clouded mind.

"You, come here." He yells the order across the tavren, catching himself afterwards and clearing his thraot to lessen the embarrassment of the situation. Still his eyes begged you to approch him.

And you did, walking to his table and sitting down. After all your companions were still sleeping upstairs so what's the harm in indulging one drunk grumpy tiefling when you were supposed to be on a supply run.

Rolan orders you a drink too, his treats, he says without meeting your eyes.

And just as you take a sip, he lays it on you bluntly.

"From now on, I'm your boyfriend."

You choke on your drink, it takes him a moment to register the way he phrased his question.

Clearing his throat again, he refuses to meet your eyes as a blush colours his cheek. "No not like this, don't get the wrong idea."

Now you're sitting there, confused as the waiter brings you a towel to wipe down the drink you spilled on yourself. You thank them and take it, giving Rolan enough time to attempt to compose himself.

"I know i haven't made the best of impressions on you." He finally speaks up, "but I need you." His voice is more honest, a hint of vulnerability, "your help I mean. Lia and Cal, I want to prove them wrong."

His glossy eyes meet yours, the alcohol loosened his tongue.

"I'm not unlovable." He whipsers, "I'm not going to beg for a chance, I just need your cooperation for a day or two, just to shut them up."

Your hand goes above the table, wrapping around his own fist softly. "I understand, it's okay." You give it a light squeeze, "you don't have to explain yourself."

Somehow, your few words helped relieve his heart from its burden more than this whole night of drinking ever could.

[isak-dot-gov]

Empty promises

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Word count: 1764

My masterlist :)

................................................

Reader’s POV:

“Paige what are you actually trying to say right now?” I asked in shock and slight annoyance.

“I just think we should be taking time apart, is all.” she sighs before continuing, “The season’s about to start up and the team really needs me, you know that. I can't afford to have any distractions.”

I feel my eyes sting as she continues to talk. Paige and I have been having this conversation for hours now, talking in circles and never getting to a solid resolve. Something in me was telling me there was much more to this than her current focus on her basketball career, her body language gave it away so easily, it always did. With Paige always being willing to drop any and everything for her basketball career, I had a feeling a day like this would come. I just thought it would've happened a lot later than now.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to drop me like the last five months meant nothing?” I asked, evidently getting frustrated with her inability to directly tell me what she needed.

She avoided my gaze as she said, “I’m not dropping you. I promise I'm not. We just need to take a break so I can focus on basketball. We can still be friends and stuff.”

Still be friends? Seriously? She and I start taking each other more seriously for five months and she decides on a random Tuesday that “we can still be friends and stuff”? She has to be joking. I feel my blood boil at this. She doesn’t get the right to use me like that then make me go back to being her friend “friend”.

“Paige I’m going to be quite frank with you. Your promises mean absolutely nothing to me right now. You’ve promised me multiple times that whatever this was, meant something to you. You’ve promised me you would tell the rest of your team about us so we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. You’ve promised me so much and what you’ve just said diminishes all of that,” I take a deep breath as I scratch at the skin on my thumbs, “I’m so tired of this, P. You say so much, yet everything you say has no substance. You’re right though. You should focus on your basketball and I deserve much more than what you're willing to offer me right now.”

I got up from the purple bean bag in the corner of her room, my view level elevating from her bed she sat on. At this she finally gained the courage to look at me, panic being the main emotion on her face. It was obvious that my words affected her, and for once in the past five months, I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. She deserved to hear that, in the same way I deserved to say it.

“I’m heading out, hope you get whatever you tried to achieve with all of this. Stay safe, Paige.”

I walk away before she gets the chance to respond, feeling too angry at such an abrupt ending to look back at her.

—------------------------

Paige’s POV:

“I’m not gonna lie, you fucked up big time, P,” KK said while eating a packet of trüfrü as soon as I finished speaking. This earned her a smack over the head from Nika as the rest of the team processed what I’ve just told them. The last two months had been insane to say the least. With starting off the season, playing back to back games and having early morning practices almost every day the one person I wanted to be around was Y/N. I couldn’t believe I messed up with her that much. That day and everything she said to me still runs through my mind.

“You’ve promised me multiple times that whatever this was, meant something to you. You’ve promised me you would tell the rest of your team about us so we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. You’ve promised me so much and what you’ve just said diminishes all of that… You say so much, yet everything you say has no substance. You’re right though. You should focus on your basketball and I deserve much more than what you're willing to offer me right now.”

She was right, she always was. It sucks that it took me so long to see it. After I realised just how much I missed her and how unfair I’ve been, I decided to start trying to make it right, I just didn’t know how. So I decided to start with the obvious, telling the team about her. I called them all to my room and immediately started telling them about the past seven months.

“Fuck, I know, KK. I just really wish I could fix this,” I say and rub my hand against my temple as a lame attempt at alleviating the stress in my mind. 

Azzi looked at me compassionately and said, “I think you should talk to her. I know it seems really bad right now, but that closure would be healthy for both of you.”

Aubrey nodded and added, “She’s right, P. Let’s be honest, you’ve been a complete wreck on the court for a while now. Talking to her might fix that.”

The rest of the court chimed in with ideas for ways for me to fix what I’ve caused. Finally, after many questionable ideas, Inȇs spoke up, “I think you should just show up to her house and say you’re sorry then tell her how you’re willing to change. There’s nothing you can really do other than that, Paige. Everything you’re telling us about what she said shows that. She needs your honesty, not huge signs of love.”

The rest of the team looked at her slightly shocked as she continued laying on the couch and finishing an assignment as if she had not just schooled us intellectually. With a new found sense of comfort from her words, I stood upright from the kitchen counter I was leaning on and went to grab my keys. As I unlocked the door I said, “You’re right, Neshy. Thanks guys.”

“Girl boo, are you insane. It’s almost 12AM,” KK said. I ignored her as I continued out of the shared dorm and made my way to my car.

—-----------

Reader’s POV:

A loud knock could be heard from my apartment door as I sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through my phone. It was late—much later than I usually had visitors. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered who could be at my door at this hour.

Reluctantly, I got up and made my way to the door, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in my chest. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and after the exhausting day I’d had, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for surprises.

As I opened the door, I was met with the sight of Paige standing there, looking slightly disheveled and anxious. Her hair was a mess, like she’d been running her hands through it repeatedly, and her eyes were filled with a mixture of desperation and regret.

“Paige?” I said, my voice tinged with surprise and a bit of annoyance. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

She looked down at her feet for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts, before finally meeting my gaze. “I know it’s late, and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you. I needed to apologise.”

I crossed my arms, unsure of where this was going but not ready to let my guard down just yet. “You’ve already said what you needed to say, Paige. I’m not sure what else there is to talk about.”

She took a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I messed up, Y/N. I know I hurt you, and I’ve been kicking myself every day since you walked out that door. You were right—I made promises I didn’t keep, and I took you for granted. I let basketball become more important than us, and that was a mistake.”

Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, “But I miss you. God, I miss you so much, and I’ve realised that nothing—no game, no career—matters if I don’t have you in my life. I told the team about us. I wanted you to know that I’m serious this time. I want to make things right.”

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to her. Part of me wanted to believe her, to take her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay. But the hurt she’d caused was still fresh, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let her back in so easily.

“Paige, I…” I started, struggling to find the right words. “I appreciate you coming here and saying all this, but I don’t know if things can just go back to the way they were. You really hurt me, and I need time to figure out if I can trust you again.”

She nodded, her expression full of understanding and regret. “I get that, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just needed you to know that I’m sorry and that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. If that means giving you space, I’ll do it. If it means proving myself to you every day, I’ll do that too.”

I looked at her, searching her eyes for any hint of insincerity, but all I saw was raw honesty. It was clear that she meant every word she said, and as much as I wanted to stay mad at her, a part of me couldn’t help but soften.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice softer now. “I need time, Paige. But I won’t close the door on us just yet.”

A small, relieved smile crossed her face as she nodded. “Thank you. I’ll give you all the time you need.”

We stood there for a moment, the tension between us slowly easing, replaced by a tentative hope. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start.

“Goodnight, Paige,” I said, taking a step back into my apartment.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

As I closed the door, I leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. Things were still uncertain, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

..............................................

Isak speaks: I'm on a fucking roll today guys :]. I'm also considering writting for KK and Inȇs becuase they are highly underated on tumblr tbh

[charliemwrites]

it is my borfday. I am now 20 whole years. So I ask: 1fur1 reaction to readers borfday? I have 1fur1 thoughts but they aren't ready yet... They're still cooking

Happy Borfday!!!!! Two decades 🎉🎉

Okay just for you, bean - I’ll make it a full part too, even. This is very fluffy up until the end when it gets just a hint of spice.

(No human boys in this one, sorry!)

You haven’t said a word about it all week - and why would you? You live alone with three dogs. It’s not like they care that it’s your birthday; or even understand what time is, really. (Except for dinner time of course.)

But the day of your birthday dawns, a little rainy. You let yourself sleep in a bit, mumbling five more minutes three times in a row when Ghost nudges impatiently at your cheek.

Eventually you do get up though, giving each of your boys a crooning “good morning” and laying kisses on their precious heads. You stumble to the kitchen to start your coffee, even pull out the fancy beans you reserve for special occasions. While it’s brewing, you start gearing up the boys for their morning potty. The precipitation is mostly mist right now, but you’d rather them not smell like wet dog.

You’re trying to belt a wiggly, impatient Johnny in when your phone rings. Huffing, you tap at the speaker icon and try to wrestle the stupid hood over his big-ass ears.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” your mom trills through the phone.

At the noise, Johnny thankfully goes still. You finish securing his raincoat and turn to Konig. Thankfully, he’s much more cooperative about getting dressed - even if he takes every opportunity to lick your face.

“Uh, thanks,” you answer. Honestly, you were hoping she’d forget.

“What are you doing today to celebrate? Going out with friends? Maybe a date…?”

You roll your eyes as you finish adjusting Konig’s (custom) raincoat.

“Definitely not. I was just gonna stay in, order some food, drink some wine…”

You haven’t even finished before your mother is protesting.

“No, no, no, you need to do something special! Not every day is your birthday.”

And thank fuck for that, you think, shaking your head.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you insist. The boys crowd as you lead the way to the back door and prop it open. They seem oddly reluctant to leave your side. You assume it’s the rain and shoo them off, your mother still on speaker.

“Well if you won’t do anything, I will.”

“Ma, you really don’t need to—“

“Dinner will be at 6:30. Don’t be late!”

And she hangs up. You groan, run a hand down your face. Well. At least it’s only dinner. You can still do the rest of your plans.

“Boys!” you call, noting that they’re mostly just congregating at the edge of the yard. They instantly return to your side, even Johnny - who has a tendency to make you chase him in the rain.

They each file inside, sit and behave while you remove their raincoats and hang them to dry. As usual, they follow and crowd while you make up your coffee. Add a bit of whiskey just for fun; you won’t need to drive for a while.

The boys climb onto the couch with you, happily arranging themselves in a warm circle. Konig at your back like a living pillow. Johnny on your right, head in your lap. Ghost just in front, pressed against your shins and warming your feet.

You settle in with a contented sigh and sip your coffee. Even put on a show you’ve been meaning to get to.

Midway through the episode, Ghost slips off the couch and slinks off. You notice in the back of your mind, but he tends to be the moodiest of your boys and figure he just wants some alone time.

When he comes back, you hum at him, kissing his muzzle as he takes your other side. As the next episode is loading, Johnny hops down.

“Biiiiig stretch,” you coo, grinning as his back legs extend. He wags, licks your hand in parting, and trots off. You hear the doggy door clatter, figure he didn’t do all his business after all.

About an hour later, the doorbell chimes. You jump, but… the boys are oddly quiet. Usually they’d be rioting that someone dares come to the door. This time, though alert, not so much as a growl.

Put off, you pad to the door and check the peephole. Just a delivery man with a… frankly monstrous bouquet.

You open the door, prepared to tell him that he’s made a mistake. But he says your name and address and tells you happy birthday, gently handing it over.

You blink as he saunters back to the truck, almost don’t notice Ghost standing sentinel right beside you.

“Huh,” you muse, finding him watching you. “Who d’you think ordered me flowers?”

He makes a little “ruff” noise. You snort and close the door. It’s a beautiful arrangement, you must admit. All your favorites. It even came in a vase!

You inhale the sweet scent and sigh, unable to keep from smiling. Usually you think flower arrangements are a bit silly, so expensive for something that will last so little time. But it’s been ages since you last got one and someone clearly put thought into it.

You offer each of the pups a sniff, laughing when Konig sneezes a bit. You set the vase on the kitchen counter where it won’t become a casualty of any enthusiastic tails and you’ll get to look at it regularly. Try to look for a card but there isn’t one.

Hopefully, whoever sent it will reveal themselves by asking if you like it.

You settle on the couch again with a lingering smile, scratching at Ghost’s ears when he presses his face against your shoulder.

Another hour passes in peace when there’s another knock at the door. Again, the dogs stay eerily quiet. This time, you’re greeted with a huge bag of items.

You unpack it on the couch, Johnny sitting by your knee. A new plush blanket, a pretty mug, a video game you’ve heard good things about, the next book on your reading list, your favorite candies, and even an expensive new pair of headphones (since Johnny ruined your last ones).

You let him sniff curiously at each item, amused by his involvement in your gift unwrapping.

“Wow,” you breathe, staring at your pile of gifts. “This is more than I’ve gotten in years. I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

You start by eating some of the candies. Johnny’s tail wags furiously the entire time, even when you remind him that candy is Not For Him.

At some point in all the craziness, Konig’s scurried off somewhere. Not surprising, you figure. All the guests must have made him shy. He’s not a fan of really anyone but you.

Eventually he returns, though, and you’re sure to welcome him back with praises and kisses before he climbs into his spot. You happily return to your show, scratching absently at your snuggly pack.

Just around noon, there’s one last knock at the door. Your favorite takeout place, including a box of the really good German pastries that you never let yourself get more than once every other week. Fresh baked too!

You hum happily as you eat, wishing you knew who to thank for it.

“I feel utterly spoiled,” you laugh as you save the rest of the pastries for later. “I definitely don’t deserve all this.”

A deep bark nearly startles you. Konig. He hardly ever makes a peep!

“Listen to you, baby!” you coo, wiggling your fingers to entice him closer. He comes to your side instantly, chin on your stomach, staring up at you with big mismatched eyes. “Such a lovely voice. Ich liebe dich, Herr Konig.”

He wags happily at you, a big, silly canine grin on his face. When you duck down to hug him, he leaves kisses all over your face and neck.

By evening, you’re in a good enough mood that you’re not completely dreading the visit to your parents’ house. You get dressed, kiss each of your boys goodbye, and leave.

It’s not… bad per se. Sure, your mom makes your sister’s favorite meal, and your dad doesn’t even realize why you’re there at first. Your sister’s husband also keeps making weird comments about you being single and your biological “clock” but—

Well, you’re just there for dinner. At least your mom made homemade cookies; a classic you’ve always enjoyed. But not even that is enough to make you stay longer than absolutely necessary, making your excuses that Konig still gets separation anxiety.

The drive home is long and you feel exhausted from putting on the “grateful daughter” song and dance. When you pull up to the house, though, you perk up when you see another package.

It’s a… basket? You carry it inside, too dark to see what it is on the porch. Immediately greeted by the boys, you don’t get a chance to look at it at first. But once you do…

It’s a self care basket, you think. A ridiculously nice bottle of wine, a bath bomb, body cream, sugar scrub… a bottle of the lube you always use. New lingerie. A toy. Not just any toy either. One you’ve been putting off buying because it’s close to a hundred pounds and you’ve got three big boys to feed.

At first you think it’s your ex but…. No. No, everything in this basket is things you’d pick for yourself. Things he never knew you well enough to buy. And he’s too cheap besides - and too much of a stuck up dick to ever dream of patronizing adult toys.

You hesitate over it. But….. well, you’ve already brought it inside. Doesn’t matter if you use any of it or not; and it’s stupid to let it go to waste.

So you feed the dogs and wander to your room.

And it. Is. Decadent.

You linger in the bathtub for way too long, giggling at the sparkles in the water, sipping wine and nibbling on German pastries. Even sacrificed one of the roses from the bouquet to let the petals float in the water. Start the first couple chapters of your birthday book, sigh and talk nonsense to your boys, all of them lingering in the doorway but behaving.

And when you finally get to bed, you run the battery out achieving your “birthday orgasms”. (Remain shockingly uninterrupted by any of the boys.)

Sometime before midnight your dream of gentle hands cleaning you up, pressing kisses everywhere. Voices whispering “love you” and “happy birthday”.

It’s the best one to date.

(Again, happy borfday!! I love you and I hope this was a good gift 💕)

Main Story | Konig pt.2 | Price pt.1

Masterlist

[alwaysmicado]

keep you warm

1.3k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always. A/N: This fic is a bit different from the things I've posted so far and it was so much fun to write. I put my heart (and tears) in it and I hope it will bring you as much comfort as it did me. 🤍 series masterlist

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. - Bram Stoker, Dracula

The car engine growls softly as it cruises down the winding road, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of autumnal hues.

Joel has his hands placed firmly on the wheel as he glances over at your sleeping form, your silhouette painted in the warm glow of the sunset. The air inside the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of your continued journey hanging in the atmosphere.

As you navigate through the autumn landscape, daylight begins to fade, casting long shadows that sway with the curves of the road. Joel steals a glance in the rearview mirror, squinting against the diminishing light. The forest on either side of the road stands like a wall of rust and amber, a silent observer to your passage.

You stir in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. Joel reaches, caressing your cheek gently, tracing a promise with tenderness he thought long gone. 

Until he met you.

A few miles ahead, Joel spots a fitting spot by the edge of the forest. He eases the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hums into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the fading whispers of the day.

“We’re here, darlin’.” 

Your eyes flutter open to Joel’s soft touch, his hand brushing away the remnants of sleep. You both step out, the cool evening air enveloping you like a gentle embrace.

Setting up camp unfolds as a familiar routine. Joel sparks a small fire, the flames dancing in the encroaching darkness. The scent of burning wood mixes with the crisp fall air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and hauntingly beautiful. You arrange your sleeping bags near the fire, a makeshift sanctuary in the wilderness.

As you sit by the fire, the warmth casting a soft glow on your faces, Joel pulls out two cans of beans and some beef sticks. You eat in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire punctuating the stillness.

Yet, Joel can’t help but notice the subtle changes in you—grimaces and absent-minded belly rubs.

He sets his half-eaten bowl down, a subtle tension settling into the contours of his expression as he watches you closely. “You ain’t lookin’ too good, honey,” he notes, his voice laced with concern, slicing through the ambient crackling that reverberates in the air. “Somethin’ not sittin’ right?”

Gazing at Joel across the fire-lit expanse, his weathered face bathed in the flickering glow of the dancing flames, your heart swells with love—and dread.

You clutch your belly as you double over, a sudden, strong wave of nausea overcoming you. Startled, Joel’s eyes widen, but he reacts instinctively, abandoning all else to rush to your side.

With a tender urgency, he crouches beside you as you vomit, his hands moving intuitively to cradle your back. His voice, usually rugged and steady, softens into a soothing cadence. “Easy now, darlin’,” he murmurs, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m right here.”

Your body tenses with each convulsion, tears mingling with the involuntary heaves, but Joel’s steady hands and reassuring words calm you.

As the waves of nausea subside, he eases you back, offering a makeshift cloth to wipe your mouth. His gaze holds a blend of worry and tenderness, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips. “We look out for each other, remember?”

Nestling closer to the warmth of the fire, Joel wraps a comforting arm around you. The quiet forest listens, an unspoken witness to the vulnerability shared beneath the starlit sky.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on?” Joel asks, his voice a gentle yet firm prompt.

You swallow hard and nod weakly, lifting your head up from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed as he searches your watery eyes for answers. “What happened, darlin’?” he asks, wiping away the lone tear that is tracing a delicate path down your cheek.

The unspoken secret sits heavy within you, a silent burden that has been shaping every whispered conversation and stolen glance over the past few weeks. Each passing day deepens the weight, a constant companion in your shared journey.

The fear of Joel’s reaction, the uncertainty of the world you are living in, and the vulnerability of bringing innocence into chaos weave a complex tapestry of emotions, a heavy cloak draped over the anticipation of a new life.

You have never been more terrified. 

“Joel, I–” your voice is shaky and you need to gather all your strength to not break down into a million pieces. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The revelation hangs in the air, momentarily freezing time. Joel’s eyes widen, a mosaic of emotions crossing his face—shock, concern, disbelief, and then a surprising warmth.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Pregnant?” he repeats, his voice softer now, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, your vulnerability echoing in the quiet night. “I swear I wanted to tell you before, I just–” you hiccup and wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m so fucking scared, Joel.” You look into his warm eyes for reassurance, your lip quivering, your whole body trembling with anxiety.  

Joel’s expression softens further, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts his hands on your arms, his eyes boring into you. “It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, the firelight casting a comforting glow around you.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

As Joel’s reassuring words wash over you, a tangible weight lifts from your shoulders, carried away by the currents of relief. You allow yourself to breathe out a heavy sigh and let your tears run freely as you cling to the man who has saved you in more ways than he will ever know.

In this moment, beneath the vast canvas of the starlit sky, you find solace in each other—a fragile yet resilient hope kindling in the midst of your endless journey. 

Later, as you settle into your sleeping bags, Joel’s arm draped protectively over you, you feel a surge of gratitude. The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours creates a safe haven, momentarily replacing your fears with the undeniable comfort you both find in each other’s arms. 

“Sarah always wanted a little brother or sister,” Joel breaks the silence with a murmur, his warm breath ghosting your neck. “I wish she could be here to experience it.”

“I’m sure she’s going to look after her little sibling,” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips, tears silently pooling in the fabric of your sleeping bag. “Just like she’s been looking after you all this time.”

“I’ll do everything to keep you and our child safe and warm, my love. I promise.”

In the quiet cradle of the night, you drift into sleep, the rustling leaves and the forest’s whispers weaving a lullaby for your dreams.

Joel tenderly places his hand on your small bump, whispering promises to the precious life growing within, his words a secret shared with the quietude of the night. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, a soft smile gracing his lips as he cherishes the serenity painted across your features.

“You are the light of my life.”

-----

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Billy’s been watching his boyfriend wear himself thin all week.

Hell, maybe even longer than that. Two or three weeks — a month, at most.

And it’s not like he’s a piece of shit boyfriend that doesn’t try to help, it’s that his stubborn as fuck boyfriend won’t let him.

Steve’s always carried his pride everywhere he went, even now. He’s swamped at work and hates it, he’s getting calls from the Hawkins brats every other night with questions about college or whatever else is going on in their lives, his parents are trying to buy property in San Diego so he’s going to look at houses when he can, he’s trying to spend time with Billy…

It’s just a lot at once.

And Steve won’t let Billy take anything off his overflowing plate for him.

So, Billy backs off, but does what he can. He cooks meals for them that’ll keep Steve going, he kisses him every chance he gets and mumbles quiet praise into Steve’s shoulder when they hug, he drives the pretty boy around to the viewings and whatever appointments he has.

He can see the dark circles under his boyfriend’s eyes now. How the light has dulled a little in his coffee bean eyes.

It’s infuriating and sad. Billy doesn’t understand why Steve can’t just fucking sit down for an afternoon and do nothing.

It’s late when Steve finally comes home, toeing his shoes off and complaining about what a dump the latest house was, how his mom would never approve of the flooring and that his dad would hate the landscaping. Billy just nodded along and lead Steve into the bathroom with him, starting up the shower.

The day washed off and comfy clothes on, they slip into bed and Steve rolls over onto his side away from Billy, expectant.

It’s cute. Billy fits himself in right behind Steve, his chest to his back, and their hands meet over Steve’s chest, their fingers interlocking.

They whisper ‘goodnight’ and Billy closes his eyes as he falls asleep to the scent of Steve’s shampoo.

But, he doesn’t stay asleep for too long.

He feels the sniffle before actually hearing it, Steve’s chest expanding with a stutter, the rain pattering against their bedroom window covering up the soft sounds of his boyfriend’s crying.

“Stevie?” Billy whispers, his voice thick from sleep as he blinks his eyes open, glancing at the clock and noting that it’s only been an hour.

“Oh—m’sorry,” Steve sniffles, glancing over his shoulder, and even in the dark of the room he can see his boyfriend’s tear-soaked eyelashes.

“Sorry? Why’re you sorry?” Billy murmurs, pulling him back into his chest, propping himself up a little so he can look down at Steve. He can’t help but to lean in and press his nose to his love’s cheek, feeling how hot it is, as they usually get whenever Steve finally musters up the energy to cry.

He’s like his mother that way. Things have to pile up before he lets himself cry it all out.

Steve doesn’t answer, just stares up at Billy with a crushed expression, his lip pouting and brows furrowed as he fights back the new tears wobbling in his eyes.

He makes this soft little pathetic sound in the back of his throat and Billy can’t help the little cooing sound he makes in return, pressing a couple kisses to Steve’s cheek before he murmurs, “C’mere.”

And Steve turns to face him instantly, cuddling into Billy’s chest and letting himself cry again, his body wracking with sobs as Billy rubs up and down his boyfriend’s back with a small, sad smile.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asks after a couple minutes, even though he already knows.

“I-I can’t sleep,” Steve sniffles again, “And my fucking shoulders hurts, like, I can’t get comfy, and work sucks and this entire…stupid thing with my parents is annoying but I wanna help them out, and the kids keep calling but they never did before so I wanna keep that connection but it’s all the time now—and I’m so tired…”

New tears come then, another wave, and Billy pets his hand through Steve’s dark hair, kissing his forehead and sliding his hand down to wipe away his tears, mumbling, “You’re always overworking yourself, baby, you gotta take a break…”

“But I don’t know how,” Steve half whines, because he always gets whiny when he cries. Billy hates that he thinks it’s cute.

“Well, we’ll figure that out together, yeah?” Billy hums, because honestly even he doesn’t fully know how to relax or take a break, but they’ve always made a great team.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbles, like he believes it, before reaching up to wipe at his wet face and he gives that awkward little laugh he always does after he cries, saying again, “Sorry.”

“Don’t gotta apologize for nothing, princess,” Billy smiles sleepily once their eyes meet, “I got you.”

Steve’s smile softens into something more genuine and he shifts closer again to press a kiss to Billy’s lips, mumbling instead, “Thank you…”

“Mm, much better,” Billy smiles against Steve’s mouth, happy to hear the soft laugh his boyfriend makes into the quiet darkness of their bedroom, the sound of the rain outside still going strong.

The next morning, Billy wakes up early. Too early. It’s so early he could go back to bed.

But, before he does that, he gets up and walks to the living room, where he unplugs the cord from the back of their phone.

Satisfied, he crawls back into bed and curls up against Steve’s side, listening to the sleepy sounds his boyfriend makes as he gets his much-deserved sleep in.